"Henry," Crabtree called as he walked briskly into the duty room. "Where's the inspector?"
Higgins looked up from the report he was slowly typing. Miss Fairchild's statement had been helpful but quite detailed and lengthy.
"He's gone with Chief Constable Giles to the detective's home. He's been gone some time though, I expect he'll be back shortly. Why, what have you found?"
Crabtree inhaled deeply, barely even wanting to think the words he was about to say, let alone speak them out loud.
"I found out how Gillies escaped, Henry and he left a trail of bodies behind him. I'm really worried for Detective Murdoch. I mean... What if he's...?" Crabtree left the sentence hanging as if by not saying the word it couldn't be true.
"Oh! You don't know! George, Detective Murdoch has been abducted."
"Abducted?" Crabtree replied with a sigh of relief for the fact that, at least for the moment, it wasn't worse news. "By Gillies?"
Higgins looked uncomfortable. "No... Well... Sort of, maybe."
Crabtree's brow creased as he tried to make sense of Higgins' response and when nothing else was forthcoming, he extended his arms in a half-shrug and widened his eyes.
"He did or he didn't, Henry. Which is it?"
"He did, we think. It happened after Gillies escaped, but most of what happened, happened before and..."
"Oh, for the love of..." Crabtree threw his arms into the air. "Henry!"
"He's our only suspect but someone had to be helping him," Higgins finally managed a succinct explanation.
Crabtree looked thoughtful. "Do we know who?"
Higgins shook his head and shrugged. "A man about fifty, stocky with grey hair."
"That could be half the men in Toronto!"
"Ah, no, he was well dressed, had a carriage..."
"He could have hired it," Crabtree countered, raising a reluctant nod from Higgins.
"And we have a likeness."
"A likeness? We have a witness?"
"We do," Higgins replied with a broad, almost shy smile. "She's very pretty. I've asked her if I might call on her."
"Higgins, we're supposed to be concentrating on finding Detective Murdoch!"
"I am!" Higgins objected. "It took all of ten seconds to pose the question, I hardly thought..."
"I'm sorry, Henry. What did she say?"
If at all possible, Higgins' smile grew even wider.
"She said yes," he beamed.
"That's wonderful, Henry," Crabtree smiled. "But now, tell me, how was the detective abducted? If she's a witness, was she seen? Is she in danger?"
"Oh, no. Gillies was quite careful to make it look like a doctor taking an injured man to hospital."
"Injured?" Crabtree asked, unaware of all the details.
"The detective's bicycle was sabotaged and he was thrown from it quite suddenly."
Crabtree took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he considered Higgins' words.
"So, he may possibly have been unconscious when he was taken?" He asked.
"He was, George, according to Miss Fairchild." Higgins nodded vigorously. "Part of the tampering was to place a spring-loaded spike tipped with what we now know was chloral hydrate. It would have gone straight into his thigh when triggered. We've also got a few other possible witnesses. Miss Fairchild saw two men, wearing similar clothes, possibly some sort of uniform, helping him from the crowd that gathered and believes they might have seen more, certainly of the inside of the carriage. We have a short list of factories and mills who have employees dressed in a uniform of sorts."
"Let's go, Henry," Crabtree drew his lips into a thin line, clearly displaying his concern for his superior's wellbeing. "We must find Detective Murdoch before it's too late."
As both constables picked up their helmets, Brackenreid and Giles walked briskly into the duty room, Brackenreid carrying the autopsy report of the murdered priest, having already dropped off the piece of gammon for testing.
"Right, listen up, you lot! Doctor Grace has confirmed that Father Conlan had chloral hydrate in his system. Enough that he was probably unconscious when Gillies killed him."
"That's not like him to to be... I was going to say merciful, sir, but that's not the right word at all, is it?"
"Not even close, Crabtree," Brackenreid scowled. "The bastard only drugged him to stop him shouting for help, not out of any act of kindness. Remember that. This man is a cold-blooded killer with a grudge against Detective Murdoch so we have to find him, and sharpish. Right?"
"Yes, sir," came the staggered responses from all the constables present.
"Sir?"
"Higgins?"
"Sir, the drug that was on Detective Murdoch's bicycle was also chloral hydrate. Bit of a coincidence to be separate incidents, don't you think?"
"Right on the money, Higgins. Good lad." Brackenreid offered a pleased smile at possibly his two best constables. "Get round to Gillies' father's place, see if you can get them to let you have a look around without a warrant."
"Yes, sir," Crabtree nodded, "we also have a couple of witnesses to track down."
"Good, get on it. Hooper, Morrison, I want you out by St James' Park asking questions about the accident, the man who took him and the carriage. Higgins, have you passed out the pictures of Murdoch and the man Miss Fairchild saw to show around?"
"Yes, sir, everyone has one and there's one of each on your desk too, sir. There's also a description of the carriage and the driver."
"Good work, Higgins. Now you and Crabtree get yourself over to Gillies' father's house. From memory, he always seemed as appalled by his son's behaviour as we are, so he should be quite helpful. Where's Worseley? Not still at the hospital?"
"No, sir," Constable Irwin piped up. "He's out back checking Detective Murdoch's bicycle for finger marks."
"Right, I want to know the minute anyone finds anything. Understood?"
Brackenreid was greeted with another chorus of 'yes, sirs' before both he and Chief Constable Giles headed for his office.
"Fine men you have there, Brackenreid. They all seem to care about Murdoch."
"Yes, sir, we all do."
Giles nodded knowingly. "Well, that explains a few things, I suppose."
Brackenreid took a deep breath. It seemed likely that Giles was having yet another dig at the pair of them for what he knew, but couldn't prove, regarding Murdoch's part in releasing a murderess from jail and Brackenreid for covering it up. He wondered how long Giles would continue reminding them of it.
The longer he thought about it over time, he pondered the possibility that all Giles wanted was the truth; an admission of guilt and they could put it behind them. As Murdoch had said, Giles was an honest copper who was angry with them because he had reason to be. Murdoch had wanted to tell the truth but Brackenreid had begged him not to as he suspected it would have been the end of both their careers. Now, after time had passed, on reflection, he wondered if that was actually the case and part of him wanted to admit their guilt to Giles. But the nagging doubt persisted. What if he was less than forgiving, as Brackenreid had originally suspected? Was it worth the risk? No, he told himself. Why ruin two men's careers and his own family. It was too much of a risk. Giles would keep making his insinuations and both Brackenreid and Murdoch would let it pass, which, he knew, was in itself almost an admission of guilt. But there was no time to consider that now.
"Sir, do you think it possible to get a warrant for Gillies' home?"
"On what grounds, Inspector?" Giles asked with mild disdain. "Of course, I know as well as you do that he is guilty of abducting Detective Murdoch, but we have no knowledge of where he took him and even less reason to suspect that his father will hide him. Quite the opposite in fact."
"I know that, sir, but... I have a nagging doubt. Call it a copper's instinct."
"We can hardly go to a judge with that, Inspector," Giles scoffed. "Let your men do their jobs. I'm sure they'll find something significant soon."
"Sir," Brackenreid nodded unhappily. "Scotch, sir? I know we're on duty and..."
"I think that would be a very good idea, Brackenreid," Giles replied in what sounded very much a conciliatory, if not comforting, tone.
oOo
"How do you think we play this, George?" Higgins asked with a worried frown.
"It's a tricky one, Henry," Crabtree nodded. "It must be terrible for Mr Gillies to know that his only son is a murderer. I don't have a child myself, as you know, so I can only try to imagine how he feels. I was..." Crabtree paused as a sudden thought occurred to him. "You know, Henry, I was surprised that he wasn't at the court house this morning."
"Do you think he's disowned him?" Higgins asked with a sympathetic tone.
"I don't know, Henry," Crabtree sounded thoughtful. "It seems odd to me that Gillies' escape and the murder of the priest and guard have both been reported in this morning's newspaper and yet we've not heard anything from Rupert Gillies. If your son had escaped from jail, wouldn't you go to the station?"
"I suppose so," Higgins replied with a measure of uncertainty. "Unless he hasn't read it yet?"
"It was front page news, Henry. he couldn't have failed to notice. Don't mention that he wasn't there, I want to see how he reacts."
"You have suspicions then?" Higgins asked, intrigued as to where Crabtree was heading with his thoughts.
"Just keeping my mind open," Crabtree replied. "See what comes up. He maybe our only link to Detective Murdoch, I don't want anything to prevent us finding him before it's too late."
Higgins nodded grimly as they approached the Gillies' residence. Knocking on the door, the constables waited only a brief moment until the butler opened the door.
"The staff and tradesmen's entrance is around the back, gentlemen," he announced as he started to close the door.
Stepping forward quickly and blocking its closure, Crabtree spoke firmly:
"And it should be plain to you that we are neither, sir. Constables Crabtree and Higgins to see Mr Gillies."
"This way, constables," the butler replied stiffly after a short pause before allowing them entry to the house. "Please wait in the drawing room," he added turning a disapproving stare towards them before walking off in search of Rupert Gillies.
Higgins stifled a chuckle. "That was amazing, George! Well done!" He grinned.
"Well," Crabtree blushed. "It was no more than the detective would have done."
"George," Higgins began with a worried frown. "Even if he does let us look around, what are we looking for? I can't see either his son or Detective Murdoch being here."
"Maybe not, Henry, but don't rule anything out until we have the proof to do so."
"So, if we don't find anything?"
"That's not really proof he's not here," Crabtree explained.
"So we're no better off then, are we? Even if we look around."
"Henry!" Crabtree felt frustration at the undeniable logic. "We just look and see what we find, okay?"
"Yes, George, but..."
"Sorry to have kept you, constables," Rupert Gillies entered the drawing room and Crabtree pulled in a deep relieved breath, glad to have been temporarily rescued from Higgins' accurate but unhelpful comments.
"Mr Gillies, sir," Crabtree nodded politely. "Constables Crabtree and Higgins. We have a few questions, if you don't mind?"
"Of course, constables. But first, would you like some refreshment? Tea, perhaps?"
"No, thank you, sir," Crabtree replied, unexpectedly refusing the offer.
"Straight down to business then? Please, take a seat, gentlemen," he waved indicating the nearby couches. "What can I do for you?"
"As you'll no doubt know, sir, your son, James Gillies escaped from the Don Jail this morning."
"Yes, terrible business," he shook his head. "That boy will be the death of me, I'm sure."
Crabtree offered a compassionate look before continuing. "Well, sir, I have to ask, have you heard from him at all?"
"Don't you think I would have contacted you if I had, constable? Clearly your Detective Murdoch doesn't believe it or I'm certain he would be here with you."
"Well, sir, that's just it," Crabtree shifted uncomfortably in his seat. They had been instructed to keep the abduction as confidential as possible but something, he couldn't be certain what, was making him want to divulge the truth of the situation. "Sir, Detective Murdoch has been abducted, and we believe your son is involved."
Crabtree searched the man's face for any and all silent responses. Rupert Gillies appeared somewhat shaken by the news, initially faltering in his response.
"Involved?" he asked hesitantly. "Don't you mean responsible?"
"Not entirely, sir," Crabtree continued ambiguously.
"You think he's working with someone else?"
"Yes, sir we believe he has an accomplice."
Crabtree paused; was that concern in his eyes? If so, was it for his son? Detective Murdoch? Did he know the accomplice? Was it him? All these thoughts flashed through his mind in a matter of moments. He pressed on with a small experiment.
"We think that the accomplice may be an unwitting dupe."
A twitch.
"Someone who knows what they're doing of course but doesn't realise that Gillies is setting them up for the noose."
"And who might that be?" Gillies Senior asked with a defensive edge to his tone.
"Well, sir we hoped you might have some idea," Crabtree replied, expressionless.
"And just how would I know that, constables?"
"James has friends, I presume, sir. Or was Mr Perry his only friend?"
"I believe he was," Rupert Gillies voice seemed suddenly calmer, almost subdued. "I'm afraid I can't help you."
"Sir, we were hoping that you would allow us to look around?"
"Do you have a warrant?" He asked stiffly.
"No, sir..."
"Then I must insist..."
"But you've always been so helpful before and your son's actions have always been a torment to you."
Rupert Gillies put a hand to his head as if trying to concentrate.
"What do you hope to find? Not James, certainly?"
"No, sir, but something we see may give us some idea of where he might head to, somewhere he might know well."
"Yes, yes of course, constables. As you see, this whole sordid business continues to disturb me."
"Of course, sir, we will keep our intrusion to the barest minimum."
"Thank you. I'll have Heath, my butler, show you around. If you need anything please instruct him. I will make certain that he knows to comply fully."
"Thank you, Mr Gillies."
"George?" Higgins whispered as Gillies left the room. "What was all that about? We were told to keep the detective's abduction to ourselves."
"I know, Henry. But something is off here, don't you feel it? He knows more than he's letting on. I don't know what, but there is something more here."
oOo
Detective Murdoch pulled on the chain holding his right wrist once more. With a sigh of frustration he accepted that it would neither break nor pull away from the wall without an army of men. Glancing around, he searched desperately for some method of escape or at the very least some way of raising the alarm. On the far wall, a light had come on roughly twenty minutes earlier and, he presumed, this had signified the arrival of the constables that Rupert Gillies had mentioned. Somewhere upstairs, only a few yards away, he imagined that George and possibly the Inspector were standing, oblivious to his presence and about to be sent on their way under the reassurance that they would be informed should James Gillies show himself. He grew angry; Rupert Gillies had indeed fooled them all. Very possibly he was more dangerous than even his son.
Giving into his frustration, Murdoch shouted for help as loudly as he was able. he had tried a few times already when the light had initially come on but the gag had made his mouth so dry, he barely made a sound, let alone form words. Trying again, he only resulted in making himself cough violently as the material shifted awkwardly over his dry tongue.
Only a moment or two later, the light on the far wall was switched off and Murdoch's heart sank. Whoever was there had left, presumably with the understanding that the ever-helpful Rupert Gillies would call them the moment he heard from his son.
Was there really no way out of this?