Chapter 3

The discordant jangling of the phone shocked them both awake just as the sun was rising, the living area of their suite just beginning to brighten as rays of light crept over Toronto's buildings.

"We're both needed." William returned from answering the call with a heavy sigh, scrubbing his hand over his whiskered jaw. Julia sat up, a hand shooting to her mouth as her stomach seemed to shift heavily inside her. William didn't notice, continuing to speak as he made his way to the bathroom, "A body has been found in Queen's Park. We're needed as soon as possible."

As soon as William exited the bathroom, Julia entered with a bundle of clothes. After the previous night, she could not face dressing in front of him, nor could she even look at herself in the mirror; after his lack of response to her elegant nightdress, she feared seeing her body through his eyes. Did he no longer desire her body? Or was he tiring of their repeated and failed attempts to conceive? Or a combination of both

The press of the front-fastening corset against her abdomen made her whimper, the pressure worsening her already fragile constitution. Still, she steeled herself to continue. She had a job to do and resolved not to let a minor discomfort stop her. At least, that was her plan.

The jostling of the carriage did nothing to settle her, neither did the small, enclosed space. The journey seemed interminable, and once the horses did eventually come to a stop, Julia practically tumbled from the carriage. Doubled over at the entrance to the park, she vomited, eyes watering from the convulsions. Eventually, dazed, she stood, her body colliding with William's.

He was tender with her, prompting her eyes to water further. His handkerchief was handed over, and he guided her away, a steadying hand on her waist as her whole form trembled.

"Are you alright?"

She hummed in affirmation, though took a few deep, steadying breaths before speaking. "It must have been something I ate." Although she didn't quite believe that, considering she'd consumed the same food as, and much less of it than, William the night before. Still, she had duties to perform, so she straightened her posture, raised her head and forced a smile. "I'm quite alright now."

Walking towards the location of the crime scene, they became aware of a pungently sweet aroma. Both wrinkled their noses, though for different reasons. For Julia, the odour was an extra sensory assault that only further unsettled her. For William, the smell was familiar, and though he could not immediately place it, he was immediately on edge. Perhaps it was Julia's current physical state, but William was suddenly, inexplicably protective of her. With his left hand on her back, leaving his dominant, right hand free, he led them towards the area of Queens Park to which the constable on the telephone had directed him. The closer they drew, the greater the stench, until a familiar figure stepped into view.

"Terrance Meyers," they uttered in unison.

The man in question turned. "Mr and Mrs Murdoch! We've been waiting for you." He smirked around his cigar, puffing a cloud of smoke in their direction, causing Julia to cough and desperately waft the air before her face.

Still protective of Julia's condition, William plucked the cigar from Meyers' fingers and passed it to a bewildered constable, ordering him to take it far away from them. "Crime scene," he simply uttered in response to the spy's baffled expression.

Meyers recovered himself and beckoned them to follow him farther from the Legislative Building and into an area of trees and shrubs. Wary whenever the spy was around, Murdoch stayed close to Julia, alert to any potential dangers, especially as the vegetation served to obscure them from view of the constables. That was until they come upon the body, and like flicking a switch, his attention focussed on the case.

While Julia crouched down, William took a moment to study the area. The body was nicely hidden from view by the summer foliage of the surrounding plants. "Who is he?" he asked Meyers, knowing that he must have been someone important for the spy to be present.

"Anthony Hurley. Member of the Legislative Assembly. He left his home on Tuesday morning, and hasn't been seen since. Now we know why."

"Detective, look!" Julia called. She gestured to the man's jaw. William crouched beside her, having to almost rest his head against hers so that he could see to what she was pointing. "I suspect that this is another shaving cut."

"Coincidence?" He turned his head to hers, then so close that all he could breathe in was the scent of her perfume, which thankfully masked the sour note of her earlier bout of sickness.

"Well, there are no other outward signs of trauma, so I'd hazard that the cause of death is the same as Mr Henshaw. But I will have to conduct a full examination to be sure. However, I'd estimate time of death to be three days ago."

"So he died before Mr Henshaw," William added.

She nodded. "And look." She gestured to two parallel tracks in the soil, slightly obscured by twigs and leaves. "I'd say he was dragged here. Judging by lividity, it would have been prior to, or immediately after his death."

He was about to praise her for her keen eye, when they were disturbed by two figures crashing through the trees. One was a flustered Constable Higgins, and the other was a suited gentleman who drew himself up to his full height as he took in the scene before him.

"I'm sorry, sir, I tried to stop him," Higgins panted just before the other man boomed-

"I demand to know what's going on here!"

"Detective Murdoch." William opened his jacket to reveal his badge while he stepped in front of Julia and the body. "And you are?"

"James Malcolm Kirkham, Speaker of the Legislative Assembly. And again, what is going on here?"

"Allow me," Meyers stepped in smoothly, holding out a hand. "Terrance Meyers of the Canadian government. Fear not, I will be overseeing the investigation."

For once, William did not resent Meyers' interference as he handled the disgruntled politician with practised ease.


With a ride in a carriage, came the return of her nausea. Unfortunate on many levels, Meyers and Kirkham insisted on riding with her and William. The politician opposite her, Julia had to fight to prevent herself from losing what was left in her stomach onto his expensive-looking shoes. Although, she could not deny that a tiny part of her was tempted not to fight too hard, if only to ruffle his pompous demeanour.

She was decidedly pale, therefore, when they alighted the carriage before the imposing doors to the City Morgue. Miss Hart greeted the morgue wagon, which arrived just behind them, and directed the manoeuvre of the unfortunate Mr Hurley inside.

Being her place of work for numerous years, Julia had become accustomed to its curious mixture of odours: decay, various bodily fluids, cleaning products and preserving chemicals. Yet that morning, for first time since she had been a newly appointed coroner, she gagged as she walked through the doors. The clenching of her stomach had her rushing to the sink, gripping the rim and hanging her head as she took desperate gasps of air.

William, for his part, was anxious to go to her, yet was stuck in indecision. Working a case, they were technically playing the role of colleagues, rather than husband and wife. Would she really have appreciated his interference in front of so many people? He doubted it. He as grateful, therefore, when she seemed to rally, and turned to them.

Despite her outward recovery, Mr Kirkham looked her up and down with displeasure. "If you are not fit to continue working, I will call in another doctor to take over."

The slight was familiar, yet no less hurtful. Not only did she feel the weight of Kirkham's, Meyers', Miss Hart's and William's gazes upon her, as was usual, she felt the pressure of needing to prove that she, a woman, was capable of doing her job. Which is utterly ridiculous, considering how many years I have worked here…

Still, she did not want to let William down, nor give Mr Kirkham the satisfaction of calling in one of his own men (and it surely would have been a man). That was without considering Miss Hart's ofttimes discomforting eagerness to usurp her from her position. So, she straightened her spine and levelled Kirkham with a flinty look. "I assure you, Mr Kirkham, I am more than capable of conducting this post-mortem, just as I was capable of conducting the hundreds more that came before this unfortunate soul." That said, she set to work, noting with considerable satisfaction that with the first sight of blood, Mr Kirkham paled considerably and excused himself.


Having witnessed Mr Kirkham leave the morgue, and seeing that Julia appeared to be feeling better,

William, too, decided to excuse himself, taking Meyers with him.

In Station House Four, Meyers hovered while William instructed the constables, who were lined up smartly before him. Higgins was to investigate where Mr Henshaw's soap and razor may have been purchased. Crabtree was to search Mr Hurley's office and fetch his diary. Finally, McNabb was instructed to accompany William to Mr Hurley's house, retrieve the man's shaving kit, deliver the soap to Doctor Ogden, and deposit the rest in Murdoch's office.

Glancing over to see a blustering Mr Kirkham occupied in Inspector Brackenreid's office, Murdoch, Meyers and the constables made a mutual decision to swiftly and silently depart.


With two bodies, a definite cause of death for the first one, and a potential cause of death for the second, the investigation gained speed, despite Meyers' insistence on being updated on every find, and Mr Kirkham's impatient presence. Thankfully, Brackenreid did an unenviably good job of keeping the latter in his office, and away from the morgue and the rest of the station house.

Therefore, while Julia was conducting the post-mortem and analysing the soap, William and George were poring over the diaries of their victims: politician Anthony Hurley, and bank manager Mr Gerald Henshaw.

Searching backwards through the politician's schedule, William stopped upon an entry. "George, look here, Mr Hurley has an entry stating, 'Meeting with GH and LB. 19hrs, Scott's Diner'. Check October 12th. Perhaps GH is Gerald Henshaw."

Flicking a couple of pages, George landed upon the date in question and read aloud, "'Mr Hurley and Dr Botham, 7pm, Scott's Diner.'" He looked up. "Perhaps this Doctor Botham is our killer, sir."

"Or our next victim. Either way, we must find him quickly."

"Of course. I'll enquire at the restaurant." And with that, Murdoch's energetic and efficient protégé departed, leaving William with no choice but to reluctantly return to the inspector's office in order to update Meyers and Kirkham on the case's progress.


Later, initial findings in hand, Julia made her way across to Station House Four and to her husband's office. She reported that it had been as they thought; Mr Hurley had died by hellebrin poison, administered through a shaving cut. The second victim's soap also contained the poison.

"It is surely lucky," Julia mused, "or I suppose unlucky for them, that both men cut themselves while shaving within days of each other."

William shrugged. "Well, you noted the cut on my jaw. It is quite a common occurrence."

"But not an everyday occurrence," she argued. "Have you checked the razors? Perhaps they were altered in some way." Without waiting for an answer, she lifted the lid on one of the boxes and scrutinised the blade, being careful not to leave any finger marks. "May I borrow your magnifying glass?" she asked after a few silent seconds.

William handed it over, then alternated his glances between his wife and the razor, impatiently attempting to discern what she had noted. She opened the other box, studied the second razor, then with a gasp, turned to him, eyes shining.

"William, look here." She angled the magnifying glass just right, then shifted so he could see through it. Through the glass, he could see her freckled finger pointing to an area of the blade. "Can you see that tiny notch, there?"

"I can."

She repeated the same process with the other blade, manoeuvring them both so that they were so close that wayward strands of her hair rested against his temple. "And here, there's the same notch. But note how both blades are otherwise unmarred. I'd wager that someone tampered with them."

"Brilliant work, Julia!" He resisted his initial urge to clasp her with pride, instead reluctantly moving away. While doing so, he fleetingly felt a pang that it was only at work that they could feel comfortable with being close to one another. Yet as usual the case took precedence, and he turned to the blackboard to make a note of Julia's discovery.

She was positively beaming at him when he turned back to her. Again, he almost closed the distance to embrace her as a surge of affection filled him. Her brilliant mind, her beautiful smile, her sparkling eyes, all pulled him. Yet he faltered when the stilted state of their marriage again intruded. Instead, he changed direction to his desk, missing the moment when Julia realised his intention and the smile dropped from her features.

Just then, George breathlessly entered. "I've found Doctor Botham, sir. There's a laboratory of sorts near the docks."

"Please excuse me, Doctor." William spoke with forced formality, as if by doing so, he could push down his tender feelings. By the time William turned back to Julia, her features were once more composed. "I have a lead."

Without another word, William was gone, leaving Julia alone to heave a heavy sigh. It seems he wants me only for my insight. She felt foolish for getting her hopes up that working together would help mend the rift between them. For while he seemed pleased with her work, but as far as she could discern, that did not lead to any endearing feelings towards her away from the case.


It seemed her disquiet was confirmed that evening when William returned home late, just after dinner was served. He did not divulge what his lead was, nor did he state how his afternoon passed. They ate in silence, with Julia once again picking at her meal; a headache had grown to accompany the pervasive nausea, and she wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed. Yet she knew what must come.

William, for his part, was running through the case. Doctor Botham turned out to be Doctor Louisa Botham, thankfully very much alive. She was most helpful in aiding their investigation, providing a definite link between the politician and the banker. It turned out that she had developed a filtration system to reduce the concentration of chromium from entering the city's watercourses from factories such as tanneries. Ever the philanthropist, Mr Henshaw had funded the research, while Mr Hurley lobbied to make it law that the system be fitted to all relevant factories. Doctor Botham divulged that there may have been some pushback, but if that was the case, she had not been informed. Further, she could not begin to suggest who would be angry enough to kill over it.

With the end of the day drawing near, William was definitely feeling the strain of a still unsolved case, with the added pressure of the government watching over him in the form of Meyers and Kirkham. Although the former had lost some interest since it appeared the case was not related to national security, the latter was becoming increasingly fervent with each hour without an arrest. William was so lost in his own thoughts that he barely tasted the food that his was unconsciously consuming, let alone registering his wife's disquiet.

Later in bed, once William had silently rolled off of her and turned away, she wrapped herself in her olive-coloured, quilted dressing gown and padded on bare feet into the bathroom. She had wanted nothing more than for everything to be as it was mere months before, for her curl into him so that they may rest together in comfort. Whilst she did not think William would push her away, she could not bear the possibility that he would lie stiff and unyielding against her, silently abhorring her continued presence.

Therefore, while her husband drifted off to sleep, she completed her nightly ablutions, and finished by retrieving her bottle of pills from the cabinet above the sink. Her stomach clenched at the very thought of introducing anything more into her digestive system. Yet with a steely resolve, she tipped two tablets into her hand, then quickly swallowed them down.

Closing her eyes and bracing her hands on the cold edge of the sink, she breathed deeply, partly to settle her insides, and partly to settle her emotions. Please let the hormones work, she silently, fervently wished. Success was the only way that she could see an end to their marital strain.

Yet a tiny, barely acknowledged part of her wondered: perhaps we've already succeeded.


A/N: Many thanks for reading, and thank you for the lovely comments I've received so far. This is my first multi-chapter MM story so I hope I'm doing okay with this!