CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

"Wait...what?" Julia's voice squeaked.

"That is a photograph of Rocco Perri. Are you certain that was the man involved with your suicide victim?" She appeared to be speechless, only nodded at him. Murdoch's thoughts whirred, as he picked the photograph off the board. "Your sister said a man named Rochbert gave her the information for her article. Extremely accurate information about the whole case, notably leaving out the true cause of death for Mr. Salieri. Rocco is the diminutive for Rochbert - or Bert...Bertie." He could barely believe it. "Julia, I think…." He stopped, looking at her face. She looked shocked and speechless. "There was no leak to the press. Rocco Perri gave your sister the information for her article." He was not sure how Brackenreid was going to take that, because it also meant Rocco Perri was one step ahead of him the whole way, and the constabulary played right into his hands...

"Can you believe it?" Rather than shocked or fearful, Julia looked positively...gleeful.

He was dumbfounded. This answers so many questions!

"How extraordinary. We have been working on parts of the same mystery all along." Julia kept going on excitedly. "Those must have been his children, I knew it!"

She was magnificent - bold, brilliant, unshakable. Too bad she won't like my answer.

He sent a glance over to Brackenreid's office where her sister was still holding court. He shook his head. "Rocco Perri handed over his own man, John Salt, also known as Giovanni Salieri, because distributing poisoned alcohol hurt Perri's business. Perri killed a man. Handed him over dead, instead of us arresting him, alive, to be tried in a court of law where he might implicate Perri."

She looked chastened. "And you think he will get away with it, don;t you?"

"Perri has effectively insulated himself completely from any guilt and we have no evidence tying him or anyone specifically in his organization to the murder of Mr. Salieri. He eliminates a threat to himself and sends a message to anyone else who hurts his business that the penalty is death, all in one blow. And I am not certain you wish to have someone murder for you as compensation for your actions."

"And the apology?"

"Someone was sent to drown me in the lake by ramming a boat at us, and mistakenly sent you in the water with me. I am quite sure that was no accident, Julia."

"Oh." Her eyes held steady.

He studied her remarkable face, a smile tugging at his mouth. "Your sister should have given you more credit in her newspaper story."

"Since Ruby got her information more or less directly from a criminal it is hardly surprising my contribution was overlooked."

"Point taken. As for the rest..."

She took both his hands in hers. "Later, Detective…"

Her face turned up toward his, her lips parted. He was certain she was going to kiss him, and his lips twitched in anticipation thereof when he heard a chair scrape against the floor outside his office. He unwound his hands from hers and stepped back. "Doctor...the rest of today is going to be, well...difficult. Do you suppose…"

"How about dinner tonight?" she asked, her eyes never leaving his.

"Yes. I'd like that, and I think we need to talk." He found himself smiling at her.

"Yes, we do," she answered, reaching for his hand and giving it a slight squeeze, hoping to allay any concerns about her interest.

He squeezed back. "Seven o'clock? Have a place in mind?"

"I do. Someplace private. Let me confirm and I'll get back with you." She departed after gracing him with a saucy smile.


Murdoch sat at his desk after finally finishing his report, staring aimlessly about his office. Shift change left the station house quiet. He should be feeling elated. Instead of losing his job in humiliation, his reputation was more celebrated - that Rocco Perri had orchestrated most of it and was going to get away with murder was not a happy thought. It had taken all day for Brackenreid to calm down enough to make up a coherent story that was both truthful enough and believable enough to satisfy the Mayor and Chief Constable.

It took longer to extract a promise of complicity with said story from the Ogden sisters. In the end they both saw the logic of it and the benefit.

Thank God.

While writing up his notes, he struggled to focus, his attention divided by anticipating his rendezvous with Julia and the tools at his workbench, picking them up and putting them down, just for the fun of playing with them - something he hadn't done in years. Standing up and looking at his stack of Scientific Americans, he smiled. He had no concrete ideas as of a project yet, but he looked forward to puttering about this weekend provided there was no pressing case. In the last few years his life had focused too much on work; in the last few days he'd come closer to losing that life than any time since the war.

His eyes rested on the framed photograph on his green filming cabinet. Me and Liza. It was the image which carried him through the war, gave him someone and something other than death to think about, someone and something to live for. We were both so young and in love- then. Picking it up, he gave the image a last glance before sliding it away in the back of the cabinet with the rest of his closed cases, shutting the metal drawer firmly.

This is now.

He needed to back out and enjoy life again. Lord knew, Brackenreid and Crabtree, even Mrs. Kitchen had nattered on about that subject often enough. Did it include the tantalizing Julia Ogden? He'd spent a good part of the last several days trying to figure out what he wanted, what was even possible between them. He still had no clue, other than he knew that if things didn't work out with her, that he'd be fine too - that there was something other than death on the other side of loss.

Walking to his desk, he picked up the final report on the raid at the Leaside factory, and decided to take it to the inspector's office to hand it in personally.

"Thanks, Murdoch," Brackenreid replied, taking his glasses off to take the folder.

"We are never going to get Rocco Perri for John Salt's murder, are we sir?" he said. It wasn't a complaint, really. More a statement of fact.

"I sincerely doubt it." Brackenreid scoffed, leaning back in his chair. "Arresting and convicting Perri for the bootleg booze deaths was a long-shot, right from the beginning. Even convicting Salt and getting him to turn on Perri was going to be a heavy lift. We have no physical evidence at all of Perri garotting Salt and leaving his body in the factory to be blown up. I won't say Perri did us a favour…" Brackenreid didn't finish the thought, only gave a tired smile. "What a day! Can't say I want to do any of that ever again, although it did net me a diner at the Albany Club with the Mayor. You just might be looking at Toronto's newest Alderman...and if so, you just might get that promotion to inspector you deserve."

He checked to see if Brackenreid was joking. "We'll see."

"Indeed we will." Brackenreid laughed. "I'm about to head out of here myself, and I insist that you do the same. We have bloody-well earned it."

"I plan on it, sir," he answered, unable to keep the grin off his own face.

"Are you now? This sudden yen to depart at a decent hour wouldn't have anything to do with our new city coroner, would it?"

He never could get anything past Brackenreid. He looked down, not wanting to answer.

"Murdoch...You don't need a defense attorney suggesting the coroner's office is in bed with one of the constabulary's detectives - literally or figuratively. Understand?"

The implications had already occurred to him...so many, so very many ways this could all go terribly wrong. He only nodded.

"Just be careful, me' old mucker."

"I will sir, I promise." He knew there was no point in lying to Brackenreid, and no reason to start now.

His boss chortled. "Well then, it's probably time you get out of here then...Take a ride on that bloody noisy machine of yours. When you see Dr. Ogden, find a way to thank her on behalf of the constabulary."