Chapter 4

The morning was a slow one for both William and Julia, although for different reasons. After another less than romantic coupling to begin the day, William headed to Station House Four, full with a breakfast of eggs, toast and Mr Kellogg's granola. Julia on the other hand, departed feeling considerably less full, only managing a couple of forkfuls of omelette before she feared for the delicate state of her stomach.

A body from Station House Two was already on her morgue table when she arrived, despite her repeated insistence that she always be called to view the body in situ at the crime scene. After an initial examination, she determined that the case of death was likely a simple gunshot. She therefore handed the case over to Miss Hart, who was quite pleased at the opportunity to conduct her first autopsy. Perched on one of the stools, and relieved to be off her feet, Julia observed and provided guidance, although her assistant was becoming ever more skilled that few words from her were necessary.

Over at Station House Four, William had the misfortunate of having Meyers and Kirkham present in his office; the inspector had obviously had enough of them the day before. Meyers was impatient for the case to be closed as it was very likely it was not a matter of national security. Kirkham, meanwhile, was aggrieved that the death of one of his colleagues was still unsolved.

Murdoch had already compiled a list of all factories in Toronto that had chromium as a waste product, and therefore would have benefited from Doctor Botham's filtration device. Before questioning each owner, he was awaiting further information from the constables' enquiries. He therefore had the choice of listening to Meyers and Kirkham bickering, or lose himself to his own thoughts. Unsurprisingly, he chose the latter, and unsurprisingly, his thoughts turned to his wife.

Whenever he used to think of Julia, he would be unable to prevent a fond smile and the warmth of love filling his chest. He would picture her with her brow furrowed as she poured over textbooks in the morgue, or teasing him over dinner with her pink tongue just peaking out as she grinned at him, or her sleepy eyes gazing softly at him in the gentle light of an early morning.

Recent days, however, had brought weariness and disconnect. When his mind turned to Julia, he could only think of what wasn't, and what may never be. As often was when faced with matters of the heart, he was at a loss of how to approach the situation.

Thankfully, Constable Higgins arrived soon after lunch, forcing William from his despondent thoughts. Henry divulged that the razors in both victims' shaving kits were high-end, sold only in one store in Toronto: Eatons. Just as William began to congratulate him on his fine work, Henry continued, "I enquired as to recent purchases. Two identical shaving sets were purchased by the same man: Michael Drake. He's employed to work odd-jobs at Jacobs Factory on Mills Street."

William recognised the name from his list of factories, and Mr Kirkham, from his post in Murdoch's office, looked up. "I know the owner, Alvin Jacobs. A thoroughly unpleasant man. He's often up at Queens Park, complaining about this and that. I wouldn't be surprised if he took exception to the invention Mr Hurley was attempting to bring into force."

"I recognise the name, sir," Crabtree piped up. "Mr Henshaw's diary included a meeting with a Mr Jacobs."

At the prospect of a suspect, William brightened, becoming energised at momentum with the case. As well as questioning their suspect, William hoped that he could find evidence pertaining to the case with a visit to the factory. He therefore strode out to the morgue, ignoring Meyers and Kirkham, and instructing George and Henry as he passed to be waiting in a carriage.

The autopsy for Station House Two was complete by the time William arrived. A good thing too, for without preamble, he launched into an explanation of recent findings, eventually asking, "Julia, would you accompany us to the factory? You'll likely be better able to identify any set-up for poisoning soap than I."

All morning, she had been counting down the hours until she could return home. Yet with William asking for her assistance, valuing her knowledge, how could she turn him down? How could she let him down? Let him down again, she added.

So, despite the headache and light-headedness that she attributed to the little food she'd eaten in recently days, she acquiesced without complaint, striding with as much balance as she could muster out to the awaiting carriage.


William, Julia, George and Henry alighted the carriage at an imposing building: red brick with barred windows set high into its walls. With the journey, the nausea had reared its ugly head, and Julia fervently hoped that she would not embarrass herself. William had been sweet enough the day before, but she doubted that he would be so accommodating if she were to hinder his investigation. So, she set her spine, breathed deeply through her nose and followed the men through the dark steel gate without complaint.

Just as she was about to trail the police officers into the darkened interior of the factory, something caught her eye. She veered away from them, towards the back of the factory, where gravelled ground met the trees that shielded the Don River from view. She crouched to inspect a plant that reached mid-calf.

In her mind's eye, she saw the image of the Helleborus viridis, or green hellebore, in her textbooks back at the morgue. The jagged, tapering leaves certainly matched. Helleborus viridis flowered in early spring, but she was certain that the flowers of this particular plant would have the distinctive green petals if she were inspecting it in a different season. She smiled; this should please William.

Eager as she was to notify William of her find, she hurried to the door through which he had entered, only to be caught in a scuffle bursting through the doorway. Accompanied by angry, raised voices, all four police officers grappled with an irate, unknown man. At least one collided with Julia, sending her stumbling backwards, her pervasive light-headedness further affecting her balance. She landed heavily on the stony ground.

Seemingly oblivious to Julia, who was gingerly manoeuvring to a sitting position, the five men continued to tussle. It is only a second unknown man – more of a lad, really – who noticed her. By the time he reached her, she had already risen, wincing at the cuts to her hands, and the bruising to her coccyx.

"Are you alright, ma'am?"

"Yes, I think so," she responded, a little breathlessly. Upon closer inspection of the boy, who appeared to be no more than sixteen, she determined that it was he who may not be okay. She laid a gentle hand on his arm. "Are you alright?"

His already glassy eyes watered further, and he glanced fretfully towards the police officers. "I think they're going to arrest me."

"Arrest you? Whatever for?" She exclaimed.

"I- I don't know. Something to do with Mr Jacobs. He's my boss, over there," he added at Julia's quizzical expression.

She looked across to where Mr Jacobs, although still huffing angrily, had been restrained somewhat between Henry and George. "William!" Her voice high and strident, she attracted her husband's attention, and gestured to the young man. "Do you intend to arrest this gentleman?"

William walked over to them. "Michael Drake, isn't it? I don't have any reason to." The younger man relaxed, although only marginally. "It is your boss who I came to see, although I don't yet have enough evidence to arrest him, either. Unless you can be of help."

Fear returned to Michael's eyes. He stuttered, glancing fearfully between his boss, the detective, and finally fixing Julia with a pleading gaze.

That was Julia's cue. With a reassuring glance at Michael, or Micky as he later told them, Julia lead William back through the property, away from the others and towards the tree line. "Helleborus viridis," she announced, indicating the plant with the toe of her boot. "Green hellebore. I'd wager this is the source of our poison."

Finding the plant from which the poison derived, on the land of a factory owner who had met with one of their victims, and who's employee had purchased the tampered razors, provided William with sufficient evidence to arrest Mr Jacobs. He was soon sent off in the carriage with Constables Higgins and Crabtree, and the inspector.

William stayed behind to question Micky. Julia's presence and gentle smiles appear to reassure Mr Jacob's assistant. He admitted to purchasing the razors under his boss' instructions. "Mr Jacobs told me to buy them under a false name. But my sister works at Eatons, and I know some of her friends there. I'd look stupid if I gave a fake name." He brow furrowed and he again looked fearful. "That's how you found me, isn't it? You won't tell Mr Jacobs, will you?"

"I'll do my best to be discrete," William replied. "You did the right thing by telling us the truth."

The trio then explored the factory, Micky becoming more relaxed and proudly showing off his knowledge of the processes conducted there. Any setup for contaminating the shaving soap had long disappeared. However, upon entering the set of Mr Jacobs private offices, using the keys William had earlier confiscated, Julia noticed some white powder and flakes of another white substance, possible soap, upon a table in an otherwise bare room. She collected samples of both, in addition to a few leaves of the green hellebore plant when they exited the factory.


On his return to the station house, William began questioning Mr Jacobs in the interview room. The man was evasive, in equal parts aloof and irate. He refused to admit to instructing Michael Drake to purchase the razors. His response to the green hellebore on his property was nonchalant; "But surely these plants grow in many places, Detective." And while acknowledging that he did indeed have a meeting with Mr Henshaw, the deceased banker, Mr Jacobs did not admit to any animosity towards either victim.

The frustrating interview was made even worse by the presence of Mr Kirkham and Terrance Meyers watching from the corridor. While Meyers was even less interested than before, – they were now almost certain the case had nothing to do with national security – William could practically feel Kirkham's impatient glare boring into him. It was therefore a welcome relief when a knock on the door summoned him out of the room.

"Detective, I apologise for the interruption, but I have something you must know." Julia was animated, obviously eager to divulge her information. "I tested the powder we found in the factory. It's hellebrin. The flakes we found are indeed soap. The composition is the same as what was being passed off as Vinolia Shaving Soap, which was present in both of the victims' homes. And," here, she allowed a small smile of triumph, "the flakes were contaminated with hellebrin. Not merely on the surface, but mixed in before the bar was re-hardened."

Finally, concrete information he could use in his interrogation! He was about to thank and congratulate his wife when Constable Crabtree arrived with more good news. After bringing Mr Jacobs to the station house, George had taken the man's finger marks. Upon comparing them with the marks on both razor blade boxes, he found a match.

"Mr Jacobs," Detective Murdoch strode back into the room. "I now have further proof of your involvement in these murders. First, your finger marks are on both boxes that contained the tampered razors. Second, hellebrin powder, along with soap flakes tainted with the poison, were found in a room in your factory. A room that is only accessed using your key." He calmly took a seat opposite the man who was beginning to look anything but calm. "Now, Mr Jacobs, I have more than enough for the courts. It would really be in your best interests to confess."

With so much evidence, the suspect's composure quickly unravelled, and he was soon admitting to everything: instructing his employee to purchase the shaving sets, tampering with the blades, and mixing and poisoning the soap. He even came upon Mr Hurley soon before his death, and dragged him into the foliage at Queens Park to delay his discovery, and hopefully also to further complicate the case for those investigating it. His motive was to stop the factories in Toronto being forced to purchase the new filtration devices. He simply could not condone spending so much money, no matter the benefit to the health of the Don River.

And with that, the interview was over. William rose.

"I have one question." The factory owner stopped Murdoch as he reached the door. "How did you detect the cause of death? My plan seemed fool proof!"

"Our coroner is quite brilliant." His face is stony, yet there was pride in his voice. With that he exited the room.

It was just a pity that Julia, having departed after communicating her findings, was not there to hear his praise.


A/N: Thank you for reading. I am still very much trying to improve my writing, and I only now realise and error I made in writing this story. I made sure to complete the whole story before posting the first chapter (I am a very slow writer), and reading it through as a whole, it sounds mostly okay. However, I now realise that this chapter, standing alone, probably isn't particularly exciting, although it is necessary. So I apologise if you found this chapter dull. It is something for me to be aware of when writing my next multi-chapter story.