Random question: Does anyone else read the dialogue in the character's voices?
Some time later, William returned to station house #4. He immediately went to the Inspector's office to inform him of the latest information, but the man's door was closed and he was on the phone. Making eye contact with the man through the window, the Inspector waved him off and William nodded in response. He knew where to find him when he was free.
Walking back into his office and closing the door, he picked up the phone for a call of his own-to the asylum where he hoped Julia would still be. Sadly, he'd missed her at lunch because of his unexpected trip to Mimico, and as maudlin as it seemed, he missed her. As she had left early to complete her rounds so that she could leave at lunch and assist him, it was his turn to be asleep when she left, and wake up alone this morning. He better understood the disappointment she'd felt the other morning upon waking up alone, and marveled at how just a few short months of marriage had changed him, perhaps even made him a bit softer in more ways than one he thought, poking his mid-section that wasn't quite as trim as it had once been when he was living at Mrs. Kitchen's. No doubt he was eating better these days, but perhaps he had better eat less well lest he begin looking like the Inspector.
Unfortunately, Julia was gone for the day, according to the nurse. Disappointed, he shifted his thoughts to what he was going to tell George, how he was going to use the information he'd learned today to convince his friend that he was protecting someone who was already cleared from official suspicion-that it was in his best interests to come clean.
At that moment, the Inspector burst into his office and closed the door behind him.
"Did you have a productive trip me old mucker?" Brackenreid asked.
"I did indeed, sir. Mrs. Brooks didn't know about the death of her husband, and during the time he was purportedly killed, her and Simon's alibis are solid. The train staff and carriage driver all remembered her bruised face vividly. Neither one could have done it, sir, which puts us back at George," Murdoch said, making a face.
"You still don't think he did it?" Brackenreid asked.
William shook his head, "No, sir, I still don't. I know I've got to consider the possibility, but my gut is telling me he didn't. There's more than meets the eye, here, sir."
Brackenreid snorted, "I agree. I was on the phone with my army contacts just now. Brooks deserted his unit 10 months ago, while he was recuperating from his wounds received in a barrage at the battle of Leliefontein. Somehow, that desertion got turned into being listed as missing, presumed dead in the labrynthian, bureaucratic quagmire of the Royal Army. All was well and quiet until Sgt. Brooks mysteriously returns to Toronto, back from the dead a few days ago. They said that if they'd known he was back, they would have tried him for desertion. They were as surprised as poor Crabtree and Mrs. Brooks that he had returned."
William made another face and walked over to the box of evidence, removing the gun he'd found in George's desk, examining it. Operating on a solid night's sleep, he saw the weapon with fresh eyes. He hadn't noticed it before, but it looked brand new; clean and shiny actually, and it was almost as if it had never been fired.
Turning it over in his hands, he realized that as George had brought the body in, there were at present no casings found at the scene to compare bullets fired from the gun to. Trust George to have thought of that, but had he realized or remembered in his frantic haste that there might possibly still be one or more bullets in Brooks' body for comparison?
Looking up at the Inspector, they both smirked at one another as William stepped back over to the phone to call the morgue to see if Dr. Grace had retrieved any bullets from the body.
As it turns out, most of his multiple wounds had been through and through, but one bullet had been pulled from the body, though it was rather damaged. Still, there were enough marks on the bullet to where William thought he might be able to determine whether or not it matched one fired from the gun found in George's desk. After test-firing the evidence weapon, William was just about to compare the bullets when Julia came in, bursting with news.
"William, I went around and spoke with the Brooks' neighbors-particularly the ones who reported the domestic dispute. None of them heard any gunshots or a dispute that would have accounted for the state in which the apartment was found. As I was visiting, I could hear what was going on in neighboring apartments, the walls are quite thin. William, I believe them, there's no way they wouldn't have heard a murder in their midst," she excitedly told him.
Taking a deep breath, William nodded. It was certainly nice to have independent confirmation from a person whose opinion he trusted and was second to no man, but the man in him didn't approve of his beautiful wife going around unescorted in a tenement.
The look on his face must have shown his displeasure because his perceptive wife immediately picked up on it.
"William, surely you're not upset that I went without you, are you? I told you that I was going to assist you every afternoon on this case, and that's what I'm doing. Surely you're not becoming the Inspector in expecting me to seek your permission on everything," she answered.
"Would it matter if I'd said no?" William asked with trepidation. He was risking a fight with those words.
"Would you have?" Julia asked, her body stiffening in anger.
Relenting and wrapping his arms around her, he breathed in her scent before continuing. "No, I wouldn't have refused-not that you would have listened anyway, but I would have voiced my concerns about your safety, as I'm doing now. I don't like the idea of you being unescorted in that part of town, Julia. It's not safe. At the very least, you could have been attacked and robbed."
Her body relaxed, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing behind his ear, a particularly sensitive spot of his that she often used when she wanted to get him to relent. It was then that William knew that he had successfully avoided a perilous confrontation that he didn't want to have at this time or any other time for that matter.
"I know you worry about my safety William, which is the only reason why I'm even entertaining this conversation. I certainly wasn't flashing large amounts of jewelry or money around, and I would never have gone by myself at night. Besides, most of the men were at work and the ones who weren't were far too drunk and feeble to bother me," she added, alluding to his unspoken fear.
Taking her hands and looking her squarely in the eyes, he explained his deepest fear, "Julia, if anything were to happen to you, it would absolutely ruin me."
Squeezing his hands in response, she nodded, "I know, William. I feel the same way, which is why I assure you I will always exercise the utmost caution when I enter such situations. I know that I'm no longer the only person my actions impact, but you must promise me that you understand that it's the same situation for you. You don't belong entirely to yourself anymore either, William."
Smiling, he brought her hands to his lips for a kiss. "I know, Mrs. Murdoch. I belong to you now, and I must admit, I'm still quite ecstatic about it."
Her giggle raised his spirits. "Likewise, William, likewise," she agreed, taking his lips for a brief kiss. She certainly would have liked for it to have lasted longer, but it was still a workday and they both definitely still had work to do. Still, she was definitely looking forward to that stiff drink she was going to enjoy back at the suite.
"What are you doing now, William?" she asked.
"Well, I'm about to compare these two bullets, and I was wondering if I could ask you to bother Dr. Grace about the blood sample taken from the Brooks' residence-is it human or animal, and is there anything else you can discern from it? I don't think she's done it yet as she's been busy trying to finalize all of the autopsy reports of the game contestants," he informed her.
Smiling, she nodded. "She certainly has her hands full, I'll go down and see if I can't help her and even perform the test myself. A detective I once worked with explained it to me, and even showed me how it was done."
"Did he now? Is this a romantic rival I need to be concerned about?" he asked, eyebrow raised.
"I'm afraid so, husband. Even after all these years, he still takes my breath away," she supplied, kissing him soundly one final time before taking the blood sample and making her way down to the morgue.
Laughing, he watched her head for the morgue. He hated to see her go, but he loved watching her leave. The swing of her hips and backside could captivate him for years.
In fact, it already had. Shaking his head to clear it of off-task thoughts, he resumed his task of comparing the bullets. He prayed that he wouldn't find a match.
Walking into the morgue, Julia noticed her friend hunched over her desk, furiously writing. Standing at the entrance to her office, she waited for Emily to notice and acknowledge her before bothering her. Writing a single autopsy report could be odious and tedious, and the fact that she had been writing several may not have her in the best of moods. Looking around with a smile upon her face, she remembered the years she had spent in here proving herself as Emily now did. This had been her first position as a physician, but not her first encounter with stodgy males who defended their superiority and privilege with discrimination, lies, and assuming credit for her work.
It was also where she first met William; a man she quickly discovered was not like all the other men. Experiencing some of that same discrimination himself on account of his religion, he'd immediately seen what she dealt with on a daily basis and being the gentleman he was, did his best to respect and support her as best he could. He'd quickly become a friend and it wasn't long before those thoughts had turned to something deeper on her part. Unfortunately, as he'd been engaged when they first met, it took him longer to reciprocate those feelings, and it was here in this very morgue, where they'd flirted and eventually fallen in love.
It had been a long and difficult path, but they were finally together, and they were happy. Snapping out of her reverie, she realized that Emily was now staring at her, with a big smile on her own face.
"Good afternoon, Julia."
"Good afternoon, Emily. Have you dug your way out of the quagmire yet?"
"Almost, I have one report left after this one, and then I'm done with our players from that most dangerous game."
"Excellent, anything I can help you with?" Julia asked.
Emily shook her head. "Sadly, no. Did the detective send you to check on the blood testing he requested yesterday?"
Julia laughed out loud. Emily had always been able to see straight to the heart of the matter. "Not exactly. He knows your priority was wrapping up the cases from the game. I came to see if I could help."
"You can perform the test yourself. You know where everything is," Emily offered.
"I believe I will. Thank you," Julia replied, turning towards the workbench with a flounce.
Laughing, Emily shook her head and went back to her reports. Despite what Lillian had said against marriage, it clearly looked good on Julia, who had the glow and happiness of being a woman who was well loved. Although she couldn't see it herself, apparently the detective really was quite the romantic behind closed doors.
Speaking of romance, perhaps if she were lucky she'd get out of here at a decent enough hour this evening to spend some time with Lillian.
Some time later, Julia stepped back from the workbench, excited that her and William's hunch had been right: the purported crime scene had been staged! Julia had performed the test twice to be sure, but the test was conclusive-the blood found at the Brooks' apartment was indeed animal and not human; meaning that the blood at the apartment and on George's boots was not that of Archibald Brooks.
Confirming that the apartment was not the scene of the crime was a step towards exonerating George for murder, but proving that the gun found in George's desk was not used in Sgt. Brooks' murder would conclusively demonstrate (at least for the present) that George had not committed the murder, but it did leave him guilty of being an accessory after the fact. But as William had just cleared Mrs. Brooks and her son earlier that afternoon, it begged the question: Who had killed Sgt. Brooks if George had not?