Wedding Bell Blues

Chapter 2

Thomas had finally gotten to return home. He was still very weak and sore but was making steady progress healing. And he was looking forward to being Murdoch's best man...at last. Margaret continued to fuss over him as did the boys. He was also looking forward to returning to work. But most of all he was anticipating testifying at Mick O'Shea's trial. That would give him the greatest satisfaction. One thing he hadn't done in weeks was have a drink of Scotch. He didn't seem to crave it either, much to Margaret's pleasure. So for the meantime he puttered around the house, resting and even reading a book or two.

"I wonder how Murdoch spends so much time with his nose in a book," Thomas mused as he laid his book down after an hour or so. He picked up the Toronto Gazette instead.

"Thomas, what do think we should give Julia and the detective for a wedding present?"

"Margaret, isn't that more your area than mine?"

"Be serious, Thomas. It should be something meaningful...after all this time."

"There you go. Let's give them a nice clock."

"You know, that's not a bad idea, dear."

"Well, I do have them from time to time."

"I shall go shopping tomorrow. Will you be alright here while I'm out?"

"Yes, Margaret. I'm not exactly bedridden anymore. And I have a lovely new walking stick to help me get around."

Margaret kissed his cheek, then went to the kitchen to fetch their tea.

"I think we need to throw the detective a bachelor party, George."

"Oh, Henry! Do you really think he'd like something like that?"

"Sure he would. It doesn't have to be a drunken orgy, George. But it might be best if we made it a surprise."

"I don't know, Henry. I rather think he's glad to be giving up his bachelorhood."

"All the more reason to have a party, George."

"Let me think about it, maybe ask the inspector what he thinks."

"Alright, George. But don't wait too long."

The wedding was now just over a week away. William sat at his desk tinkering with a clock. He was working on one that didn't need to be wound daily, but ran on a battery. George knocked and entered.

"You're needed, sir."

Looking up, William said, "What have you, George?"

"Another murder...on the dock."

"The dock, George? I thought that was all finished. Alright. I'm coming."

Upon arrival Murdoch crossed himself and stooped next to Dr. Grace.

"Detective, his throat was cut and by the looks of the blood pool he bled out right here."

"I see. Similar to Michael O'Brian' s murder, which I attributed to the O'Sheas, perhaps prematurely."

"Maybe not. This cut was made by a left-handed slice. Michael O'Brian's was done by a right hand."

"I see. Do we know who he is?"

"Not yet. May I take the body?"

"Yes, of course. George see if we can find anyone who knows who our victim is."

George and William made their way to a pub, The Drunken Bear, which was frequented by the Irish dock workers. Those men whom George had not yet questioned could probably be found here. As they entered all eyes looked toward them. No one had forgotten the dust up about the O'Sheas just the weeks before.

"Sir, I think maybe we should have brought more men with us. This group doesn't look too inviting."

"We'll be fine, George. We have the law to back us." Then he addressed the room, "Gentlemen, does anyone know the identity of the victim just found on your dock?"

No one looked up, so William slammed his hand down loudly onto the bar. Raising his voice, "Now! Gentlemen, or you can all come down to the station to talk to me."

That did get a rise out of the men as they all slowly stood and started toward George and Murdoch.

"Sir...sir..."

"We'll be alright, George." But Murdoch's voice didn't sound all that confident. George noted to himself that he had never seen the detective scared or hesitant. And now was no different.

"Well..." said Murdoch. "I'm waiting."

But this time his confidence was not enough as the men in the bar circled around them.

"Sir...?"

"Alright, George. Maybe we should get reinforcements."

But as they turned to leave, the brawl began. Punches were thrown and chairs flung about. George tried a few of his Kung Fu moves and was somewhat successful. Murdoch had been able to duck several blows. But they were outnumbered and that became evident fairly rapidly. As the two struggled to reach the door a lucky punch hit Murdoch in the face. Startled, he struck back knocking his assailant down. George grabbed William's coat and pulled him outside.

"Run, sir, run!"

The cells were full of dock workers as Murdoch had had all the bar fighters arrested.

"Sir, your eye!"

"Yes, George. I know."

Murdoch now sported a lovely black eye. He dreaded explaining it to Julia. It surely wouldn't be faded by the wedding.