The Lady or the Tiger?

Chapter 15: Lions and Tigers and Bears – Oh my

Ever since the turn on the century the Policeman's Ball had taken on new meaning, giving it a romantic, stellar, fate-like significance, for William and Julia. Married now, it was their favorite occasion of every year. They danced, and flirted with each other, and toasted the New Year, and, my, oh my, did they KISS – in public, with surprising passion. It seemed they always made the papers the next day – usually the story accompanied by two pictures of them kissing under the fireworks, the first from 1900 and the second from whatever New Year had just been rung in. The side-by-side images brought up, over and over again each time, the sting and the magic of living their story, all wrapped up into one.

They would have had no way of knowing that it would be different this year – that THIS year there would not be a second photograph. The timing was impeccable – it was as if the fiend knew. Only ten minutes before midnight, exactly the same time that back in 1899 Julia had flipped William's soul over inside of his chest by walking into this very same ballroom, stunning, in a racy, gorgeous, red velvet gown, and then telling him, so nervously, that she didn't expect anything from him, but that she and Darcy had parted, and back then William had found it nearly impossible to remain standing with the spin and the float of such remarkable news, and yet, he had managed somehow to seize the day, not to let her slip through his fingers this time, he had managed to tell her – to tell her so very winsomely back then, that he had seen the future and that HIS future was HER…

And now, precisely at ten minutes before the New Year, William and Julia stood together in that one spot… talking, waiting and tingling with anticipation, adoring each other, Julia holding to their tradition of using the same introductory line she had used that fateful night and joking with him that with so many policemen here it would be a good night to commit a crime. They stood right next to the same big doors they had been standing in front of that first time, the big doors that would open out onto the terrace and the fireworks would explode and sparkle and sizzle overhead and they would kiss and kiss and kiss and kiss each other, and it was exactly then that the waiter walked over to them and handed them the folder with the photograph inside, and William opened it out before them, revealing its image opened wide in his hands for them to take in together, and their whole world completely fell apart, plummeted into turmoil and terror, for in William's hands was a picture of their beautiful baby boy sleeping in his bed, and they felt it instantly, heavy and debilitating in every fiber of their bodies, they knew the danger implied by the threat, they knew wholeheartedly the sinister intent.

) (

It was the intensity of Julia's panic that made her so angry – furious, and there was no one else to take it out on in that carriage, galloping at breakneck speed to their home, but William. There was a malicious demon in their house, stalking their baby who slept helplessly in his little bed. The dread, the terror, was intolerable, the high-pitched ringing in the ears, the inability to breathe, so nauseous, so very, very nauseous, dizzy, fighting with every atom to stay sane, to think, to calm down, to hurry… Please God, please hurry. Maternal instincts, fatherly instincts, pumping adrenalin, enough to lift a house, through the veins, but stuck inside this tiny space, stuck helpless, utterly, utterly, helpless.

She had actually smacked him with her bag. Cursed at him, screaming with rage, "God dammit, William!"

William Murdoch was a strong man, he loved her with a power that astonished him, and he could take it, he would take it, if it eased her burden by even the tiniest of bits.

The carriage had not stopped, had barely slowed down, when William opened the door, found the ground, reached back into the carriage and grabbed his wife by the waist and spun her around for the two of them, William so much faster than her, to run like bullets into the house. He would never remember putting the key in the lock, or even making it up the stairs, but the sight of little William's Jr.'s black hair fluffed about on the pillow, the bulging off of the mattress of the blankets, the slightest hesitation William had felt while reaching out to rouse his precious son, the heavenly sound the baby made when taking in a breath before he was pulled tight into William's chest, he would remember living through those things every day for the rest of his life.

Julia was close, close behind him, but in that odd, warped-tunnel-of-time that happens on when one is on super-drive, it seemed an eternity until she bound into the baby's room.

"He's alright!" William promised, his rush so tremendous he had not even remembered to TRY to sound calm.

Julia grabbed their one and only child into her arms, hugged him with such abandon, unaware of her tears. Rocking, the only way to soothe the shockwave, rocking him, she thought to herself that she should not squeeze so hard and she softened, and she planted her face in the tiny boy's neck and she soaked the smell of her baby in, alive and safe in her arms, in through every cell in her body…

William whispered to her, most surely quieter than she had ever heard any voice in her life, "You'll frighten him, Julia…"

Overwhelmed, her eyes met his briefly, the ghostly light from the hall in her face.

Wham

With a wallop William felt the slam, the hit in his gut. Such fury.

Julia thrust the child into his arms and she ran, ran with all her might, her legs so painfully weak and heavy from being mercury-pooled with relief, she ran into their bedroom, and then slammed the door shut behind her.

How was it possible that Claire-Marie had arrived, only then, from having had heard the couple rush in while she had sat quietly reading, waiting for them in the living room. Obviously, she had been startled into a panic by hearing the two of them flying in through the front door and barreling up the steps? Frightened, the look on her face as she asked the detective, "What is it? Is everything alright?"

William did not know that his eyes were pinned to their closed bedroom door, as he tilted his face down to William Jr.'s head and tucked his nose into the boy's hair, and his lips shushed and kissed and comforted William Jr. in his arms, then he answered Claire-Marie, shock winning over him now, making his speech monotone, hazy and distant, "We received a threatening photograph. We thought he was in danger."

"Everything's been fine, sir… uh, detective. No one has been here…" the nanny reached over and rubbed William Jr.'s shoulder. "He's been fine."

The detective's striking eyes met hers…

And he felt the young woman's sureness waft into him, and he felt – for the first time in such a long, long time – he felt himself breathe…

"It is quite a relief," he said, and a part of him for a second, inside his head, giggled, because that was such an enormous understatement.

He kissed the baby's head once more and whispered, "Sorry, Little Man. You let Claire-Marie tuck you back in… Back to sleep, hmm?" and he handed the two-year old off to his nanny for her to try to calm him and reassure him and settle him back down into the security and coziness of his bed.

Claire-Marie had enough wherewithal to think of an explanation, tenderly telling the toddler as she carried him to his bed, "Mommy and Daddy tried to wake you up to hear the fireworks, but they were too late, Master Murdoch. Maybe next year, hmm?"

Softly, William closed the bedroom door behind him.

Immediately Julia was there.

She railed at him wildly, "This is YOUR fault, William. Always pushing things. So blindly pursuing your goddamned precious truth. You pissed somebody off, AGAIN! Now we have another of your monster nemeses on our hands, some sort of ghastly Gillies nightmare all over again… or maybe some woman from a case who's infatuated with you, like that vampire-crazed girl – Arlene, or maybe even Sally Pendrick, she was always too interested in you, I thought…" a discerning eyebrow lifted judging him, her mind, his mind, flickering that Sally Pendrick had just been back in Toronto, and considering that fact in incriminating her. Julia huffed and continued her rant, a hint of tears at the edges of her voice, "But now they're not after me, William! They're after our baby!"

Julia shoved him with a whack in the chest, and then just glared at him, fire-breathing and angry. Such a shock, his mouth dropped agape, and his eyes instantly pooled with tears, and ever so slightly, his head shook from side to side in disbelief. And she saw it, her lovely William's hurt slamming into her heart like a lightning strike, but she was still so ANGRY, and a part of her felt so ashamed for acting this way, and the awareness of that shame made her start to crumble and she started to cry, and she said to him, her eyes glistening with tears, "Some monster is after our beautiful little boy, William. He's so innocent, he never did anything to hurt anyone, except maybe to be born to us, I guess, and… And I'm so sorry William. This is NOT your fault." Julia stepped in closer, touched him, his cheek cupped tenderly in her hand, for she had hurt him, and he was tender now, and she was so, so, sorry, and she told him again that it was not his fault. That she was wrong. That there was only one person at fault for all of this, and that was whoever had taken that photograph.

William struggled desperately for words, his brain screaming them at him, but the weakest utterance was all that escaped his throat, "I shouldn't have…" but he could not think of what he had done to cause this, and he thought he shouldn't have become a detective, or that they should never have had had any children to be put in danger in the first place… "I should have stayed a ranch hand, or just a lumberjack, or been satisfied with being a constable…"

And then she softly wiped aside a tear from his cheek with her thumb and she told him that he was the best detective in all the world, and that if he had not become a detective she would never have met him, and that it was his being such an remarkably good detective in the first place that had been such a large part of her falling in love with him. And he was still such a remarkable detective, and so smart, and so brave, and compassionate and… and focused, and curious, and… Julia paused, shaking her head from being amazed by the memories of how much in love with him she had been, and she told him, "Those butterflies whenever you were around… I fell completely head over heels, William. And…" and with that her eyes fixed to his eyes with a hold that rivaled gravity…

Blue, blue eyes, he noticed, and so beautiful. She was absolutely beautiful…

"It wasn't anything you, or even I, had ever done that made this happen, and you truly are brilliant, and you'll catch him, William. I know you will," she vowed.

And he reminded her that it was true, but only if he had her too, because…

And Julia interrupted him, knowing exactly where he was going, finishing his words, "We always were a good team."

And then he added – reminding them both on a deeper, less conscious level, of the intensity and the significance of the time he had finally found her after she had refused his marriage proposal, ironically because of a similar kind of threat to what was happening to them right now, and he had held her tightly in his arms, and he had promised her, in that dark, dark alley all those years ago, "Together, we are stronger than anyone."

) (

A little while later, the two of them more composed after recovering from the initial shock of receiving the threatening photograph, William pulled the folder and picture out of his coat pocket, and the two perceptive minds went to work analyzing the evidence.

"There could be fingermarks," William said.

Julia felt his eyes turn to her. "Mm," she gave in response.

He watched her face as she perused the picture in his hands and discerned the clues, her focus catching here and there on the little details, and a part of him felt the spark, the thrill, of his good fortune in having such a perfect life partner.

Julia inhaled, she'd seen something, "His curls… his hair was still long, so it was taken before Mrs. Kitchen gave him his haircut… before the Sunday before his birthday," she noted.

It was now the end of December, making the time the photograph was taken at least two weeks ago.

William looked at their sweet sleeping baby's coily curls in the image, and just a flicker replayed inside his head, of his having had seen William Jr.'s black hair, now shorter than it was in the photograph and without those beautiful curls, solidly contrasted against the white of the little child's pillow, right after he had run with all his might up the stairs, when, just a half an hour ago, he had been so thoroughly terrified that the baby had been taken…

"Oh," Julia said, her eyes grasping his, "Look William," and they both focused back down on the picture. "He's still in his crib in the photograph, so it was before we got him his bed… That was…"

"After Halloween… two or three weeks after Halloween," William remembered. Their brains both calculated in silence – more than a month or a month-and-a-half ago…

William sighed, they needed more. He considered the source of light, thinking to himself that overall it was very bright… "It's daytime," he observed.

And Julia felt a surge of hope in her chest. He was truly brilliant, and she anticipated what was to come, some sort of mathematical calculations of angles of the Sun or something of that sort…

He had gone on, "It must be morning, or a nap… The shadows on the wall from the crib… the light coming from his bedroom window was…"

And Julia's gasp stopped him.

Her brain screamed it at firstTHE WINDOW!

Her words, awed, spooked, "The window…" at first a mere whisper, it grew, "The window, William…"

His beautiful eyes…

"The Window," and a fear and a guilt and a terror filled her face, and she hurried now to tell him, her words gushing out, "Oh William, I forgot to tell you… to ask you, if you had left it opened that morning, maybe before you had gone to Church…"

And William's brain rushed backwards into the swirling, oddly-lighted tunnels of warped time that his unique brain offered him with his profound and special memory, and he chased down the clues – him to Church without her, a Sunday – a SUNDAY before she started going to Mass… baby taking a nap, she found his window opened, thought it might have been me who left it opened…

"It was too cold…" Julia's memory of her discovering the window unexpectedly opened played on, "I was certain you would not have opened his window when it was that cold."

Nothing to do but wait for her, they both knew more would come.

"Autumn," she remembered, "The Park… those wonderful leaves… Yes! Yes, you had made for me, had written, about your love changing, like the leaves, the green and yellow and red leaves…"

He remembered too, and the connections fired off in his brain, the newspapers hounding them, the body at the Body Farm, Friday the 13th! But it wasn't, it was the numbers inverted, the 31st, Halloween. Someone had set-off the booby-trap at the Body Farm – but it had only been a black cat… And further back, when he had gone to reset the trap because the Gazette reporter had set it off – they had gotten his photograph before the man had cut himself free of the net, and shooting back further than that to when he had traded the scrutiny cameras from their house with the ones up at the Body Farm – THAT WAS A SUNDAY! And one of the cameras from their house had taken a photograph – and he had decided to expose it in order to use the camera in the trap to catch the Body-Dumper Killer! AND SUCH A PANIC ERUPTED IN HIM!

Julia saw William's expression change – fear and remorse flooding into his eyes.

The horrid photograph of William Jr. sleeping dropped out of hands down onto the vanity surface and William took her hands in his. "We had a picture of him!" he said. Suddenly his jaw clamped tight and anger was there, "I'm such an idiot!" he berated himself.

And Julia Ogden knew he was not.

"We had him, and I just threw it away – exposed it without developing it. A picture taken on the scrutiny camera from here in our house, and I took it up to the Farm to replace the ones that took that reporter's picture when he triggered the trap. I can't believe I exposed it, I thought it was worth it… to reset the trap… to catch the Body Dumper Killer at the Body Farm. It was that same day – that Sunday I went up there after, after I went to early Mass. You stayed here with the baby… It must have been that morning, or his nap that day, then you noticed the window left opened. We could have known, would have evidence, his picture when he snuck in… maybe the night before, maybe earlier that morning," William struggled not to physically smack himself with his self-infuriation.

"So long ago," Julia's words, redirecting him out of the fog of his own self-loathing, "I wonder why now, why wait so long to scare us?" she puzzled.

It was disturbing to realize how vulnerable they had been, invaded in such a life-altering way without even knowing about it all this time, and worse, to realize that so much more could have been done to hurt them, and to think that now it still could be, though they would be more alert to the dangers now, more defensive. But still, the perpetrator of all this must have wanted things this way, and it was surely not finished. Terrifying to think that in many ways, it had just begun.

) (

That night, Julia wanted the baby in bed with them. Discussion led to an interesting compromise – William would use the Halloween popup monster triggering device with its very loud, evil laugh machine on William Jr.'s bedroom window to serve as an alarm. Not enough to console Julia's fears, they decided to sleep together on the floor in their son's bedroom – just for tonight. William had gone up into the attic and retrieved two sleeping bags, and, combined with the pillows and blankets from their bed, it was quite comfy.

Initially troubled, sleep appeared illusive, but they were truthfully each thoroughly exhausted, and the actions taken to ensure their child's safety seemed reliable enough, and, if they were not already asleep, they would have been surprised, in the end, how quickly sleep had come.

) (

UP!

JUST A DREAM!

NOT REAL!

Julia's voice, shaky and startled called in the darkness, "William. William, it's alright, it's alright. You must have been dreaming… a bad dream is all," her touch, warm, dependable, solid and firm, then her lips so close to him he felt her breath, "William, he's safe. I'm safe. William Jr.'s right here, with us, we're all together… Remember, I wanted us to sleep with him tonight."

Her reminders, her grounding, beginning to settle them both back into reality… and that reality was overwhelmed with the terror they had just experienced, and that they were still experiencing, and thus her connecting their minds and their bodies back to the here and now served to both calm and discomfort, leaving a bad taste in the mouth as the world hardened around them.

So out of breath still, tears in his eyes, for he had been both sobbing and running and… and…

William said, explaining, "I dreamt that Gillies had buried the baby alive."

The words, just those few words, enough to have her completely understand the horror.

Julia heard, registered, his sigh, saw his dim silhouette reach up and rub his brow. She watched him crawl and roll over onto his hands and knees, then stand, then leave the room.

) (

The light poured softly, warmly, into the hallway as Julia came down the steps to join him in the kitchen. Her own devastation in imagining, merely imagining, such a plight as William trying to save the baby from Gillies, from trying to save HER from Gillies, and so very much horror… and painfully, so much so that it felt unspeakable, painfully going back to those heinous traumas brought on by that malevolent and dangerously capable man. Her own terror in being buried in that coffin once again sucking the air out of her, dreadful nightmares, the electroshock therapy to treat them, reconnecting with William – and such profound magic – because of it, Darcy murdered, her nearly hung, all of it, all of it, flooded back in and threatened to drown her. And she knew that her beautiful William was suffering terribly as well, and it hurt her, hurt her down into her deepest core.

He was at the stovetop, stirring the pot of hot chocolate. So grateful for the soothing sight of HIM in his pajamas, the sweet smell of chocolate in the room, the fact of it, of their special way of coping, that it was there for them when they needed it, oozed over her, into her…

Julia cleared her throat, not wanting to startle him before she approached him from behind.

He smiled to himself, for his rational mind had told him NOT to make enough hot chocolate for two, but his heart had doubled the mix in spite of the figuring.

She slipped her arms around his waist from behind and he was comforted by the warmth of her plushness as it settled into his backside, her up on her tippy-toes to look over his shoulder, her chin resting down on him, a wispy curl feathering against his ear. Glad for the less-exposed connection this position yielded, his tear-filled eyes not drawing all her attention as they would have done face-to-face, he decided no words were necessary. William's deeper breath enough to tell the perfection of being, her with him.

Julia would explain, for she was breaking her own decree that they would stay with William Jr. "I left the baby's bedroom door opened, and your horrid monster's cackling is surely loud enough for us to hear down here, hmm?" her voice tender, her lips so near to his ear with a kiss. The mood not sexual, her hands out of habit rode up his stomach to the muscles of his chest, and she whispered her admission to him, "And perhaps I was overreacting…" and then she hedged…

And he felt the tweak of his own adoring of her tendency to pride spark inside of him…

Julia now wanting to minimize, to deflect, the perception of herself as having had behaved as if taken by some uncontrollable wave of female hysteria, she added, "…perhaps just a bit."

He wrinkled a corner of his mouth, but not as an admission that he thought she had been being overly melodramatic – quite the opposite. It was because he was considering, in his head, that any GOOD mother, and Julia was most assuredly a good mother, would have felt the same way…

"You're all sweaty," Julia's observation called him, her hands dwelling on the damp, moist edges of his pajama top collar.

A stutter at first, the strain of remembering, a twinge of shame for his reaction to a mere nightmare, his fear, his weakness, not considered manly, "I, uh… I was running – to the grave…" he swallowed with an attempt to strengthen his voice, "and digging."

Spying an opportunity to lighten the mood, Julia smiled. Her tone, from behind him suddenly teasing, "Really…" she questioned, alerting to her playful intent. "The Inspector says you never 'bloody' dig," and then her delightful giggle peppered the air.

William was charmed, could not help but smile. He even chuckled. But then there was a heavy pause, a deep sigh, as he remembered back. Gravity weighed on his voice as he told her, "I did…" and he needed to clear his throat, "dig… that day."

And Julia knew instantly that he was thinking back to his fierce and panicked shoveling to get her out of Gillies' grave in time. Her mood matched his in its solemnness, as she turned him to her with a gentle nudge at his big, bulgy shoulder, sometimes so floored by such a strong man's vulnerableness. "I know you did," she vowed to him, her eyes luring him so forcefully with their earnestness, with their honesty, so that the rawness of it stung.

As if swallowed up in a tunnel, she felt him falling back, his eyes becoming glisteny, pooled, tugging her heart with all their might. He was holding his breath, the only way not to feel the full force of the memory of the terror, the lack of air scratching his voice as he said, "I've never know such fear… I was unable, and it was impossible not to, imagine finding you dead, underneath all that earth…"

Julia's empathy with William's plight that day seemed unbearable, and her very saneness felt endangered by even an inkling of the thought that she herself might face the awful memories directly, and probably also because of having had undergone Dr. Roberts' shock-therapy treatment and its effect sparing her the tracks in her mind that she would follow to go back there, and because of all that she pushed the memory of being in the sweaty, putrid, dank, dark, lost coffin, buried alone, somewhere that nobody could find, in a grave under 6 feet of dirt, she pushed the past, away. Yet, she had an intense need to quell his distress, and so she comforted, "It was not your fault back then, William… and it's not your fault now. And… And I said horrible, horrible things to you tonight. And I know you know I was so scared I couldn't think, William – couldn't breathe." Julia stepped close to him, a part of her marveling at the way his thick, long, black eyelashes held his salty tears at bay, and how the sparkling and ponding of water lured her so. She took a deep breath, and heartfelt, she offered him, "I'm sorry. They weren't true, those things I said. They were never true."

Her wait was not long, his wrinkled-corner-of-the-mouth easing her. She didn't think to say it, as a result of its spontaneity hearing her own voice whisper to him, "I love you, William. So much, I love you."

) (

The next day was New Year's Day, so there was no rush to get up and get to work. When the Murdoch toddler awoke, the sunlight low and dim through his westward-facing bedroom window, his eyes caught – but could not believe – the sight of his parents sleeping there on his floor. It was like a dream come true. Hesitation though, filled his little body as he crawled out of his bed and approached. There was no door to knock on… the lack of the familiar boundary suddenly worrying him somehow. And so, he stayed back, clutched his stuffed rabbit, his trustworthy companion Blanco, to his chest and just looked at the huddle of blankets and his Daddy's red pajamas and his Mommy's white nightgown, and her long, curly hair…

Patience tough for one who is only two, the stress became more than he could handle, and his little voice, so, so, quiet at first, beckoned, "Mommy?"

And with the softest of lilts, Julia was awake.

And her pretty blue eyes opened up, and her arms lifted inviting him to nestle into her bosom, like the best thing in the world, sandwiched and sheltered and cuddled there in between Daddy and Mommy. And the little boy dove for the joy, and he wiggled and smothered his face into his Mommy's soft body. And he felt the tickly vibrations of her talking to him as much as heard her voice muffled in her hug.

And she greeted him, and she told him she loved him so much, and his Daddy loved him so much.

A deep breath removed the uncertainty of his Daddy's being awake, and William rolled to face them more directly, propping his elbow down into the picnic-like makeshift mattress and resting his head in his hand. His dark eyes bounced back and forth between his son and his wife. "Good morning," his dry voice warmed them.

Julia reached over to touch his scruffy face…

And William Jr. swung from the mother to the father and wrapped his arms around his Daddy's neck and squeezed tight. His Daddy's voice was in his ear as he said, "Happy New Year, Little Man," and for a split second his little two-year-old brain almost remembered being woken up last night, but it suddenly disappeared.

Instead he imagined the fireworks he did not see, the loud pops and bangs, and the tooting horns and the shouts he did not hear but he KNEW for sure were there – the whole New Year's celebration hullabaloo oddly pretending to be a memory…

Suddenly, Daddy became playful and he was hurled up into space, held, floating high up above his parents, his Daddy's big strong arms his spaceship. His mother caught the wave of fun, a pillow in hand, her biggest challenge was the decision of which one of the two men in her life to pummel with it – mischievously deciding it would be William.

When the roughhousing finally quieted with the small family in a Murdochian pile of huffing, happy exhaustion, William remembered the temporary popup-monster-laugh alarm at their son's window and he explained, "Come here, my Little Man," and he took his son's hand and took him to see. "We've set up the popup monster's laugh on your window, so it can warn us if anyone tries to come in. It's on a battery, and it only has so much power. It is not to be played with. You cannot make it laugh, you hear," his Daddy sounded stern.

"Yes Daddy," the little one said.

Heading out to dress, Julia nestled her arm into William's and squeezed him tight, joking, "It's a battery, William? I thought it was a capacitor…"

"Very funny, Julia," he groaned.

Still, her reminder of their upcoming speeches and awards, and subtly, or not so subtly, guarding against his tendency to get too excited, by outside standards anyway, about boring, scientific and technical details – and truth be told, she loved him for it, loved him with all her heart, this reminder was also about life going on, and so it would, ready or not.

) (

Days passed, and the urgency too passed, despite the parentally protective incessant internal reminders to remain diligent, to remember what was at stake, and that the threat was real, and looming, and still, the more time that passed without incident, without evidence of any danger, the more complacency seeped in, sunk in.

)

In the middle of the work week, bars finally installed on all the windows in their home ensuring safety, William and Julia finally opted to risk showering together, satisfied that William Jr. would be safe even while they were both fully absorbed in being together in the enclosed, cut-off, pounding of the steamy cascading water in the echoing standup bath, and distracted by the thunderous passion of their lovemaking.

Their bond solidified by their love – mind, body, and soul, the couple snuggled together in the afterglow in the blanketed softness of their marital bed, engaging in the sweet intimacy of pillow-talk. Julia thanked him for having the bars put up on the windows… and for keeping the popup-monster-laugh at guard on William Jr.'s window despite it's not being wholly necessary now.

She giggled, out of the blue, remembering her own joke about the power source for his invention, "the capacitor… or was it a battery?"

Her head resting down on his chest, his fingers brushing through her hair, he leaned his mouth down closer to her and asked her to tell, "Hmm?"

"I was thinking, William…" her pause only rousing his curiosity more. "Well… Wouldn't it be funny…" and Julia thought to remind him that he could be funny, hurriedly interjecting, "Sort of like when you surprised me with that whoopee-cushion you tricked me into sitting on – remember?" and she felt him nod unconvincingly. "Um, wouldn't it be funny if we did your speech together – both of us up on the stage, I mean." Julia lifted her face to find him in the dim, dim light of the wintery moonlight through the window. She elaborated, making the idea more and more enticing, "We could tell the audience that I'm up there with you to keep you from being boring…" such childlike glee entered her voice as she imagined aloud, her husband feigning shock and insult with his raised eyebrow, "And then you could do just that – get boring…" she giggled, "But I would love it too – because I am almost as much of a nerd as you are. Or… Oh, this would be better, I could tease you about it… about your being boring," and she gushed with excitement imagining it, "And I could make you blush. The audience would love that, William!"

) (

This year the Annual Ontario Constabulary Convention was held in Toronto, and thus the audience was fully packed with supporters for what the papers called, "Toronto's Favorite Couple," the Murdoch's, who took the stage for the Keynote Speech.

Detective William Murdoch, winner of the 1906 Policeman of the Year Award, spoke confidently into the microphone, his beautiful wife, who just so happened to also be Toronto's most notable pathologist, Dr. Julia Ogden, stood next to him at the podium, her sparkling gown, her beaming face, helping to giddy the crowd. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," the detective began…

So quickly, his wife leaned in close enough to be overheard by the microphone, "Isn't this exciting!" she whispered, wiggling and bouncing and squeezing the stiff, buttoned-up man with seemingly boundless glee.

William Murdoch's face burst into a smile, her enthusiasm contagious, especially to him. "It is," he agreed boylike, but then nodded winsomely, regaining his composure. Focusing back on the task at hand he continued, "I am Detective William Murdoch of the Toronto Constabulary…" so odd, he somewhat noticed through his nervousness that his tuxedo lacked a lapel to lift, and more importantly a badge to reveal.

His quick brain reminded him that he meant to explain why Julia was at the podium with him. He went on, unflapped, "When the Ontario Constabulary Committee met this year to decide who would be selected as this year's Policeman of the Year, it seems my name came up…" William frowned and added, with a pause, because, already, some people had laughed, "I was told at least one board member moaned…" The audience's flood of laughter deepened his frown, and he pushed himself to get back to the point and ignore the dents to his ego. He cleared his throat and continued, "The winner of the award gives the keynote speech, and there were complaints, worries, in the committee that people would find me to be boring, tedious, that I would go on and on about some math problem or an electrical charge that was recently discovered, or something…" William paused and blew away the emotions. "I'm told it was said that I am… stuffy." He looked to Julia.

"I'm sorry, William," she said, bringing the audience to laugh again, for even the man's own wife was unable to deny the claim.

William swallowed and went on, "The member who had suggested my name for the prize pointed out my accolades…"

Julia leaned in and said, trying to offer support, "Oh, and there are many," she nodded her head up and down and caught the eyes of members of the audience. Knowing William would feel uncomfortable about 'boasting,' she pushed him, asking, "Didn't you tell me that more than one board member touted your accomplishments – What were some of them, exactly, William?"

Powerfully, her eyes urged him to be brave, and he fought momentarily becoming caught by her glowing beauty, her cheeks so rosy, and her kissable glistening pink lips, so full, and those big eyes of hers, azure, clear and fresh, so magnetizing…

"They…" he cleared his throat, "One of them, uh… reminded the board that I had won other prizes, two big ones just this year. And that I have been given International Accommodations, this year by the French for solving the theft of the Pink Panther Diamond, and in the past from the United States for saving the American president – more than once…"

Julia practically jumped to reach the microphone, her voice almost yelling the amazing fact, "And for saving the Queen!"

Thomas Brackenreid's voice boomed out, "God save the Queen! Well, God and Murdoch!" And once more people gushed into laughing.

Waiting for the din to settle, William stepped closer to the microphone, Julia yielding and moving back to his side, William finally got to what he believed was his biggest asset, "I use unconventional and innovative methods in my policework, some say my methods are at the forefront of forensic science…"

Julia whispered in his ear, "Pendrick's movie, William… and, oh, Arthur Conan Doyle."

William raised an eyebrow at her, "They don't want to hear about that," he dismissed her.

The crowd grew noisy, protesting and pushing to be told.

"My wife…" and a panic surged through him because he had not gotten to the point, yet, of explaining why she was there – he hadn't even introduced her!And a part of his brain threw up a reassuring reminder, "The Master of Ceremonies introduced both of you before you came up on the stage," and so quickly he coached himself to finish what he had been saying so as not to look daft. "My wife wants me to add that James Pendrick made a moving picture about me…"

And William had to halt mid-thought for the applause, and he was courteous enough, and gracious enough, to take a moment to ask James Pendrick to stand and receive a round of applause.

James Pendrick returned the favor, having to yell to be heard from where he stood down on the floor "It should be noted that Detective Murdoch's Stationhouse # 4 has had the best record, not only in Toronto, but in all of Canada. And it has been so, I'm told, ever since Detective Murdoch became detective there."

Hoots-and-hollers filled the air, Stationhouse #4 celebrating the notoriety, Henry Higgins risking scowls from his beloved Ruth for his outburst, George Crabtree up out of his seat to cheer.

Pendrick was joined by Inspector Brackenreid at the same table. Standing the Inspector thanked everyone for their appreciation of his Stationhouse's good work, and then he added, turning to address the couple up at the podium on the stage, "But, I must warn you all, Murdoch's forensic science that he's so proud of, though it is truly brilliant, and nothing ever before it has been more effective, but, well, it makes him slow as molasses and, if he gets to talking about it, well… Dr. Ogden," his tone mixed pleading with a threat of scolding.

"Well, ladies and gentlemen, if I may have your attention once more," William announced. "What I was trying to say was that despite the accomplishments that I have been fortunate enough to have in my favor, it was argued quite adamantly at that board meeting that if I was given the award then I would also have to be the keynote speaker here tonight, and that since a keynote speaker needs to be…"

Julia reached for the microphone, nudging him.

"Julia… I just got started…"

Julia wriggled and sidled herself in between William and the microphone, gaining control. "I'm told one board member suggested that Detective Murdoch, here," she paused and made quite a show of looking her husband up and down, and then continued, "Well, I'm told the man argued that William Murdoch is quite a handsome man, and that at least all the wives would be entertained by seeing a good-looking man such as him up on the stage."

Murmurs fluttered through the audience, interspersed with feminine pockets of uncomfortable giggles.

The Hall quieted down enough for most of the crowd to be able to hear Margaret Brackenreid's voice saying to the women at her table, her speech sloshed and TOO loud, "Ruppersizing, that the handsome Detective Muderrock also writes… sssuch pretty, pretty pluv poems too – about storm rains and str… st.. steamy things under the covers…"

"Margaret!" Inspector Brackenreid snatched away the wine glass from her hand. The periphery of his eyes suddenly aware that everyone in the Convention Hall had turned to see them. "That's enough!" his eyes glared fire at her as he whispered his warning through gritted teeth…

"Ahem," Julia tried to intervene, and all the crowd's faces reoriented up onto the stage, "Well ladies," Julia pumped them up, raising her hands and gesturing towards William, "Was the man right?"

Oh, it was wonderful, the Hall erupting into huge applause.

Pressure pounding, William tried to take back the microphone.

Julia teased him so very mercilessly, "Oh no. No you don't detective. Not until your face returns to its regular color…" receiving a glorious laugh, because William Henry Murdoch had turned such a bright, bright shade of red.

Julia waited, perfectly, for the laughter to die down and then she mischievously added, "I love it when he blushes," and poor William, who had almost recovered his normal complexion, blushed beautifully all over again, as he so deliciously turned to face her and gave her a scowl, with a chastising raised eyebrow.

Of course, sending the Hall once more into roaring laughter.

Julia giggled adding, "You are delightfully bashful, William," now her face nearly as red as his.

And every heart in the Hall felt it, the power of the love these two shared.

A big, satisfied smile on Julia's face, she leaned in and whispered in his ear. She took a moment then, in front of all the world to cup his cheek, and to hold to his notably big, warm brown eyes, and then to smile once more, but to him, her smile solely meant to be given to him. Striking, the intimacy.

Julia gestured for him to take back the microphone, stepping aside and offering the central space with her hand.

The detective cleared his throat, took a deep breath, but then he started shaking his head and a smile curled, twitching with his efforts to repress it. He chuckled, losing control, for he was not yet able, it seemed, to start straight away. "Whew," a rattle sounded, loud in the room over the speakers, of his tensioned exhale through pursed lips, letting the pressure out. A little giggle, another try… He would get to the point, the reason Julia stood with him.

"I'm told that someone at the meeting suggested they could liven up my speech by inviting my wife to join me. Doctor Ogd…"

Applause filled the Convention Hall, forcing him to step back, to pause, and to applaud Julia along with the crowd.

It quieted.

William returned to speaking. "The Board members had many good reasons to put her up here with me. I have earned none of my accomplishments alone, and Dr. Ogden's forensic work is tantamount to nearly each and every one of my successes…"he took a breath and added, "Her, along with so many others at Stationhouse Four." And another pause was necessary as William gestured towards the side of the room where the Inspector and the Stationhouse 4 constables and their guests sat at their tables, to applaud them officially as well. The clapping finished, he tried to get back to the same point once more, and inside he groaned at himself, for it seemed he would never get to it, he said, "Dr. Julia Ogden has won impressive awards herself, works as the head pathologist for all of the Toronto Stationhouses, and she is a professor of medicine, teaching and inspiring the next generation of doctors." William tilted his mouth closer to the microphone and lowered his voice, the effect feeling like he was sharing a secret with them, getting down to the heart-to-heart truth of it. He told, "And she's dynamic, and she's brilliant, and she's generous and strong and tireless. And she has done all this, and so much more than you will ever know, while battling uphill against a current that has been built to move men forward and to hold women back…"

And the whole room sensed it, the electricity of the importance of his message sending little tingles up the spine.

"And, well this remarkable and rare woman lights up my life like she has lightened up this speech, and I love her, from the top of the hairs on my head down to the tips of my toes, and I really want her to know, and all of you as well… She makes me whole."

He watched her face glow, and they both thought for a moment that her eyes might tear up, and then William went on and he concluded, "And so, very wisely, the Ontario Constabulary Committee agreed to give me this prize, but on the condition that my beautiful wife would help me with delivering this speech, and so, finally, that is why you have us both of us tonight. Thank you. Thank you all, very much."

The applause was loud and long and heartfelt. William and Julia, wearing their big smiles, their twinkling eyes, politely bowed to the audience, and accepted their praise and thank-yous from the Master of Ceremonies, who would take the podium to close for the evening. They exited the stage, stopping here and there among members of the audience, shaking hands and receiving compliments, on their way back to their table.

There was much celebration and congratulations on their unexpectedly funny speech – Madge Merton would even write in her column that it was 'hilarious.' The successful and memorable night was nearly to a close, only dessert left to be served.

A waiter delivered an envelope to William…

William's expression, speechless and terrified when he caught Julia's eye, her face revealing she too shaken, and they each knew with a surging panic that they both felt the fear all over again, their insides whirling backwards in time, for this was all too similar to when they had received the terrible photograph at the Policeman's New Year's Ball, the photograph of their beautiful two-year-old little son sleeping in his bed, and every nerve had stood up on end, and they had not yet recovered, could never recover, from the shear horror of it.

The note inside the envelope was typed. William held it so that they could both read it.

I must say I was surprised, a serious man such as yourself agreeing to your wife's risqué plan – you of all people willing to attempt to entertain an audience with humor. But then, splendidly amazing, you pulled it off, dazzled them with your modest blushing. Kudos detective, kudos.

Stunned, Julia said, her tone almost calm, "I want to go home now."

William was already up, the note folded back into the envelope, tucked into the inside of his tuxedo. He pulled back her chair, not a word to anyone, although others at the table were noticing. The Inspector glanced to Murdoch's pocket. He had seen the envelope.

"Is everything alright, Murdoch," he asked.

"No. No sir. We have to go," he replied, his motion already away.

He put his arm around her shoulder as they hurried off. "Best to call first. Constable Jenkins set up a post right outside his bedroom door – knew to leave the door opened. We'll call ahead, make sure he's fine…"

In the cab barreling home once more, the mood was much calmer this time. They had spoken to Claire-Marie. They had been reassured that all was well with their son. Hearts raced, jaws clenched, but it was manageable. The panic could be held at bay this time. Thus, the rational mind worked better.

William's brain raced down multiple tracks. "The note was written AFTER their speech, because it said they had "pulled it off," but it was typed. No one could have typed up such a note so quickly. There must have been two notes prepared – one for if the speech had gone well, the other for if it hadn't…" Another thought ran alongside, "Kudos, an uncommon expression. Used mostly in academia – so someone well educated…" But there was something troubling him, something tiny, and annoying, and it kept poking and nagging at him.

He asked her, "How did the author of the note know it was YOUR idea, Julia… your idea for us to be funny?

"Perhaps they just guessed – it would imply they know us both very well, uh, to know it would be my idea," she responded, always game to travel his thoughts with him.

A twitch at his eye, distaste on his face with the lack of satisfaction, he pressed, "What if it wasn't a guess? How could they know?"

"Well," she tried, "Maybe there is yet another listening device in our house?" she suggested.

"That would make sense," he thought in his head. And so it was necessary to consider where they could have been overheard, and he considered aloud, "We did not write any of the speech in my office – or the morgue…"

"Mostly in your workroom…" she added to the remembering.

"Did you tell anyone about our plan?" he asked her, already certain that he had not.

"Only Ruby," she answered, "In a letter. Perhaps they intercepted our post?" she offered.

"Perhaps?" he gave, but his mind had already moved on. He pulled out the note, turned it over and examined the envelope. The photograph of William Jr. sleeping in his bed had been in a folder. That was different. But the method of delivery was ominously the same…

Julia asked, scaring them both so much more in admitting to the concern, "You think they are connected, don't you?"

He nodded, his brown eyes firm to hers.

"The same man sent them both," she dared say what she feared the most, "The baby's picture and this note?"

William wrinkled a corner of his mouth, bringing a stinging heat to the back of her eyes as the tears swelled and a dizzy nausea began to drown through her. They had no choice now, no choice but to go through the horror of it, helpless, with absolutely no control, like when a young child needs to cross through the scary woods at night. She had to fight it, the urge to fall down and give up, and William sensed it, and he held her close, and his words promised that it would be alright, that they were strong when they were together, that everything would be alright, easing her with his mantra.

It was spooky though, knowing for certain that there was danger hiding in wait for you, for your child, out there in the hard, cruel world… knowing it was there but that you could not see it. You had to be hyperalert, diligent… exhausted… Search the fuzzy, dark boundaries of every tree, focus and magnify every sound in the brush, don't forget it can come from above, from behind… Widen your view, focus your view, intensify your sensors, be ready, be ready to fight with every ounce of your soul, resist taking flight unless you are all together. Don't leave one alone. Never, never leave one alone… alone to be gotten by the lions and the tigers and the bears…

Oh my.

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