"Sirs?" began Constable Morris as knocked on the door to Inspector Brackenreid's office. "Jackson on desk says there's a woman to see you. She wanted to speak to Detective Murdoch. I told her that he's not here and now she's insisting on speaking to you."
"Insisting, is she?" Brackenreid replied gruffly.
"Yes, she is," the woman breezed into his office and stood at the side of his desk facing him expectantly.
Behind her, walking slower and with somewhat less confidence was a young woman in her late teens, possibly twenty years old, with a fair, translucent complexion that made her look even younger.
"And who might you be, madam?" Brackenreid asked, only to receive a disapproving stare from Giles. "Thank you, Morris," he grumbled. "Close the door behind you."
"Sir," Morris nodded as he left.
"Now then, ladies," Brackenreid conjured up his most charming tones, "please take a seat."
"Thank you," the woman replied with what seemed a grateful nod, somehow instantly cooling Brackenreid's abbrasiveness.
"I am Inspector Brackenreid, ma'am. What can I do for you?"
"My name is Eliza Wilkins, this is my daughter Sarah. I spoke to Detective Murdoch after my son's trial. I... I wanted to believe he was a good man, really. That he couldn't possibly have done the things he had been accused of. But then of course Detective Murdoch told me about the confession and that there was nothing could save him."
It was Giles' turn to grow impatient.
"Madam, about whom are you speaking?" On receiving a puzzled glance from the woman, Giles clarified. "Who is your son?"
"Oh! I beg your pardon, Inspector. Yes, I use my maiden name now," she sighed. "Especially now. My son is James Gillies."
"James Gillies' mother?" Brackenreid repeated in disbelief.
"Yes, inspector, I left my husband fifteen years ago when James was a small boy because I was afraid Rupert would do the same to Sarah as he did to James. I wanted to take him too, but he threatened to kill us all. He would have done it!"
Eliza looked suddenly down, choking back the tears brought on by the abandonment of her son. Brackenreid's accusing stare softened as the younger woman, clearly her daughter, began to comfort her. As Eliza took covered her daughter's hand with her own, Sarah continued the story.
"My brother James was born first. Father was... Is a very intelligent and highly successful engineer. He wanted great things for James and forced him to learn with a private tutor for long hours from a very young age. He beat him regularly for the smallest things and he was allowed to mix with no one as it was, in father's opinion, time wasted that could be spent on studying. Everything was a puzzle for him to solve, nothing mattered except the puzzle. Not feelings, not people, not even life itself. This..." She looked down at her mother who nodded through her tears. "The murder of Professor Bennett wasn't the first time he'd killed but father would help him cover his tracks. When he went to college, he was on his own and managed to convince someone to assist him. To be his protege if you will."
"Robert Perry," Brackenreid nodded.
"That's when he started making mistakes, because father wasn't there to assist. But instead of blaming himself, he put all his anger on Detective Murdoch. I read about his escape and I'm fearful for the detective."
Brackenreid frowned. "So are we. He's been abducted."
"I'm too late?" Eliza looked up bleakly. "James has him?"
"we believe so but you're not necessarily too late," Brackenreid offered a stern yet comforting expression. "Perhaps you can help us find him?"
oOo
Almost immediately, the door at the top of the stairs opened and the slow measured footsteps of an older man, followed by a light impatient step told Murdoch that both of the Gillies men had arrived. As they arrived at the foot of the stairs and walked over, Murdoch searched his mind for something with which he could fight them both. There had to be something that would affect them in equal measure.
"Let me tell you your fate, Detective," Gillies Senior smiled a supercilious smile as, much to Murdoch's relief, he removed the gag and the addition padlocks allowing to lower his stiffened and painful arms. "In my hand I have three red envelopes. In each is described a most unpleasant death. You will choose one to be your own."
"And if I refuse?" Murdoch replied hoarsely, now thirsty and exhausted with pain.
"In that instance, I have three blue envelopes, Detective," James Gillies beamed. "In each lies the name of someone close to you. If you refuse to choose your own death, we will choose one of each envelope and whoever is chosen of your closest friends will suffer that death. Will it be Constable Crabtree? Inspector Brackenreid? Or your own dear lady love, Doctor Ogden?"
"What will it be, detective?" Gillies Senior taunted. "Who is to suffer and how?"
oOo
Doctor Ogden sighed heavily and pushed the papers to one side.
"I've been no help at all!" She admonished herself.
"Perhaps you have but you just need to talk it through with someone?" Doctor Grace suggested. "Tell me what you've found."
Doctor Ogden sighed again; what harm could it do? And possibly, Doctor Grace might even be able to contribute some vital suggestions.
"I considered how William might begin," she nodded to settle into it more. "I began with what we know. James Gillies is the only son of engineer, Rupert Gillies. He is, or was, still studying when first arrested so he has little practical experience of the world but is highly intelligent, particularly in the fields of mathematics and physics. He enjoys games and puzzles of a deadly nature and at first consideration appears to act on them for their own sake.
"Appears?" Doctor Grace cut in. "Do you think otherwise, Doctor?"
"William insists that there is a motive for every crime. Gillies' insistence that he was trying out a theory in the murder of Professor Bennett has always troubled William as he believes that there is more to it than Gillies will admit to."
"Do you have a theory, Doctor?" Dr Grace asked, intrigued and drawn into the discussion.
"I do," Doctor Ogden smiled, now a little more certain of her thoughts. "James Gillies is what has been termed a psychopath. He displays extreme antisocial behaviour with little concept or acknowledgement of remorse for his actions. Rather than concealing his reasons, such a man would gloat about them."
"So," Doctor Grace frowned. "Why did he, in this case?"
"I can think of only one reason for his denial that it was anything more than what he said." Doctor Ogden took a deep breath. "He's protecting someone."
"He has an accomplice?" Dr Grace's eyes widened.
"I believe he does," Dr Ogden nodded. "Not necessarily in the murders, as William would have found the evidence, I'm certain. But somewhere in the background, someone is assisting him. For example, someone is helping him escape from prison, finding locations and equipment. William said there was no record of the cage that he was imprisoned in being purchased or delivered anywhere in Toronto. Neither does he know how Gillies... Oh my goodness!" Dr Ogden suddenly exclaimed. "I know who it is!"
"Who?" Dr Grace asked urgently.
"I have already determined that it could only be someone he is exceptionally close to, someone he knew would protect him at all costs and would never let him down. His father!" she announced to Dr Grace's surprise. "He is an engineer, he could easily have built the cage and helped him erect it. Also with the practical details of setting up the rest of the trap for poor William. His father is how Gillies keeps escaping; small wonder he's protecting him. Doctor Grace, William is being held by both of them!"
"We must take this to Inspector Brackenreid at once!"
"And hope he accepts our reasoning." Dr Ogden reached for her hat. "William is in grave danger indeed."
oOo
"Okay, George, where are we? Ah yes, King Street." Higgins consulted his notebook. "This one is the Massey Harris Company. They make agricultural equipment."
"Who is listed as the owner, Henry."
"It's a Daniel Massey, George. I hope this is it, we only have two left."
Crabtree nodded. "It looks hopeful, Henry," he replied pointing towards some of the male workforce. "They're all wearing blue shirts and dark caps, just as Miss Fairchild stated."
"George," Higgins grinned. "I'm thinking of asking Miss Fairchild if she'd go walking in the park with me on Sunday."
Crabtree smiled. "The sounds lovely, Henry. I'm sure she'll accept."
"You think so, George?" He asked keenly.
"How could she not?" He encouraged. "Now, to business, Henry. Let's go inside."
No sooner had they stepped through into the yard than a weathered man easily in his late forties was holding them back.
"Look out, constables!" He cried as a wagon loaded with equipment trundled past, the horses whinnying under the effort of the load. As the yard cleared, the man dressed exactly as Miss Fairchild had described, smiled at them. "Can I help you with anything, constables?"
"We were looking for Daniel Massey," Crabtree replied.
"He's oversees at the moment. I'm Clarke, the Head Foreman, can I be of assistance?"
"I hope so, sir," Crabtree nodded. "We're looking for two men who assisted at the scene of an accident this morning."
"Would that be the chap who came off his bicycle?" The man asked, much to the two constables' relief.
"Yes, sir. Can you tell us any more?"
"Well, from the police involvement, I'm assuming it was either no accident or you want this man for something?"
"Very astute of you, sir," Crabtree nodded.
"Lewis!" The man turned to shout and wave to a another on the far side of the yard before speaking in a much quieter voice to Crabtree and Higgins. "Let's go into Mr Massey's office. It's quieter there."
"Sir?" A man spoke breathlessly as he ran toward the small group.
"The constables wish to speak to us about the incident on Adelaide Street this morning. We're going to Mr Massey's office."
"Of course, sir," Lewis nodded obligingly, as they all headed into the main building.
Half way down the darkened mahogany panelled hallway, Clarke stopped and opened a half-glassed door similar to that of Detective Murdoch and Inspector Brackenreid's offices.
"In here, constables."
"Right then, gentlemen," Crabtree opened as Clarke closed the door of the tastefully appointed office. "You saw the accident this morning?"
"Not me, sir," Lewis replied. "Mr Clarke did but we both stopped to help."
"How so?"
"A doctor was there," Clarke added with some uncertainty. "Said he'd take him to hospital. But if it wasn't an accident, why are you questioning us? Do you think we've committed some crime?"
"We've done nothing, sirs," Lewis fretted. "We just saw a man hurt, that's all?"
"This man?" Higgins asked as he pulled out the picture of Detective Murdoch.
"Yes, that's him." Lewis nodded. "Wanted for something, is he?"
"What happened this morning, constables?" Clarke asked with curiosity in his tone.
"Sir," Crabtree nodded; it seemed the right thing to do to explain. "This man was abducted this morning. Can you tell me if this is the man who asked you to help him? Higgins, the other picture, if you will?"
"We didn't abduct nobody!" Lewis was growing ever more upset. "In fact, I said, didn't I, Mr Clarke?"
"Yes, you did!" Clarke raised an eyebrow. "Yes, constables, that is the man we spoke to," he began as he looked at the picture. "But as Lewis says, he remarked to me at the time that his moustache didn't seem real somehow."
"That's right," Lewis nodded.
"I didn't notice, myself and paid no mind at the time. There was no indication that it was any more than an accident. He was a wealthy man too judging by the reward he gave us."
"Mr Clarke, Mr Lewis," Crabtree narrowed his eyes. "Do either of you still have that money on your person?"
"Yes, we just put it in our pockets and came straight to the factory," Clarke replied. "Three dollars each, all in silver."
"Could we borrow the money, gentlemen? Just for a short time, to check for finger marks."
"We will get it back?" Clarke asked, his head tilted in suspicion.
"Oh, yes, sir," Crabtree reassured him. "Every penny, I promise you."
"We want receipts," Clarke insisted as Higgins held out his handkerchief to the two men to drop the coins in.
"Yes, of course," Crabtree began scribbling out a receipt for them on his notebook, the carbon beneath taking a copy for himself.
"Crabtree," Higgins pointed at the picture he had been pondering over for a few moments. "You know who that would be without the moustache?"
"Oh my goodness, Henry, you're right!" Crabtree looked up. "Thank you, gentlemen. You've been of great assistance."
Both constables rose quickly and headed once more out into the daylight.
"Higgins, you get back to the station house and inform the Inspector and Chief Constable. Also, start checking the coins for finger marks. I'm going back to the Gillies house to bring him in for questioning. I knew there was more to that than met the eye!"
"Be careful, George."
Huge thanks to everyone reading and reviewing. I'm so glad you're enjoying it. It really means a lot to me! :D
Sas x