Chapter 7
Friday was, if possible, even hotter and more humid. And at 5:30 am to boot! Julia struggled with her dress in the bedroom. Despite just coming out of a cooling bath, she was sticky already. "William! You have to help me with this."
He was also up early and fully dressed. She squinted at him in frustration. How can he look so impeccable and dry in his starched white shirt, vest and tie, when she was already a dishrag? It was uncanny, nay unnatural, she grumbled to herself. It was also very attractive! On the other hand, he did not have to wrestle putting on a corset.
"Yes, Julia? Can I be of assistance?" He noticed the outfit she chose was one of her older ones with closures in the back. She had slowly exchanged those for ones she could easily get into herself. He went over to her and deftly did up the back. "You know, I am better at taking them off." He kissed her neck and closed the collar clasp. He loved her scent.
She kissed him back before sitting at the dressing table. "You are still coming with me to the Asylum after Mass on Sunday? The residents are looking forward to the exhibition," Julia asked as she twisted her braid into a knot on top of her head to get it off her neck and out of the way.
"Yes, I am looking forward to it myself. I already had supplies delivered." He recalled last night's work that was now strewn around the dining room and trailed into the parlour. There was a pile of papers on each of their nightstands because they brought the questions upstairs when they retired.
Normally, that sort of collaboration between them lead to an even more stimulating collaboration in bed. The heat last night somewhat curtailed their activity. William had also been suddenly uncertain of his sound-proofing job in the bedroom walls, with someone else sleeping just down the hall, and Julia teased him unmercifully about it. The occasional embarrassing noise complaints at the hotel… He flushed a little and then remembered himself. He looked at her in the mirror. "Julia, do you really think that is was definitely not suicide?"
She turned to regard him. "No, William, nothing is certain. However, in my view, the preponderance of evidence argues against suicide. There was no despondency, no efforts to order his affairs, no note, no mental illness, no known financial troubles and no known scandal. He had some old fashioned ideas about his financial affairs, but nothing extreme. His will and insurance policies were made years ago and the family was content or at least accepted his decisions. He was a God-fearing, practicing Catholic who loved his wife and family. Catholics do in fact suicide, you know William, but there are many other protective factors I considered. Right now my psychological profile of this man is that he was harmless and did not take his own life. However, I will need to observe the family to improve my level of confidence."
William was relieved. He was glad for the widow and for the man's eternal soul. Accident or murder by person or persons unknown. It would mean he had a whole new case and was now several days behind in solving it. He was not looking forward to telling that to the inspector.
"That whole family is shattered. William, if you arrange re-interviews today this afternoon, say around 4 pm, I will complete my formulation."
"Agreed," he said.
He and Julia went down stairs to the kitchen, grabbed their tea and toast and took it to the front porch to await her carriage for her 6:30 am rounds. Ruby was still asleep. For a moment, William forgot his sister in law was even visiting, while sitting contentedly on his front porch with Julia. There was no breeze. He held her fingertips. A porch swing would be nice… They heard the sound of the carriage coming down the otherwise quiet street and stood. She reached for his face, smiled and kissed him. He handed her into the carriage and went back inside, and wrote a note for Ruby. He collected his coat and hat, got his wheel out of the garage and rode to work for an early start. The better to get this over with.
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William arrived at the station house before the morning shift started. He opened the windows in his office as it was stifling already. His jacket followed his hat to the coat rack in short order. He went to work on his chalk board and completed his notations and contemplated the recreation of the death scene on his worktable. It troubled him that the family made no mention that the eldest son was not the deceased's biological child. That, of course could explain why he was passed over in inheritance for the younger brother. Julia found the clue when looking at the family picture last night.
"Look, William," she had explained. "See the shape of the ears on each of the sons. As much as they look alike, the elder has detached ear lobes and the mother, father and younger son do not. I have observed this is an inheritable trait, that may be dominant." They had both been reading up on genetics lately. He saw exactly what she meant under the magnifying glass and chastised himself for not noticing and not asking the right questions. "The eldest must have had a different father. Was the mother previously married? Or was the dead man cuckolded? Was there family animosity because of the will?"
He used the quiet time before 8 o'clock to work out a sketch of exactly where each of the family members were. They gave alibis for each other and he could find no holes in the timeline. Maybe they all did it, and the conspiracy had fallen apart resulting in conflicting statements about the manner of death. The interviews later today will sort that out. If none of them are guilty and it is not suicide -then who killed him?
By the time the inspector arrived to work, William had his list of questions for the family and a list of other inquiries to make. He apprised Brackenreid of the progress so far,
The inspector surveyed the chart. "Are you sure about the suicide angle, Murdoch? And if so, are you going to tell the family so they can get him buried properly?"
"No…sir. I want to keep that back at least until I have reinterviewed everyone this afternoon. You did give me until Monday….."
Constable Higgins interrupted them by knocking on the office door. "Sirs. I have the paperwork for Mr Downs' and Mr McCarthy's arrests. The prosecutor wants to go over your theory of the case. They have hired barristers of their own. I suppose with the money they stole," he joked. "I hear a rumor they will use each other as reasonable doubt of their guilt."
"Do they really look that much alike?" asked the inspector.
"Not up close," said Higgins, "but from a distance or in a disguise…close enough I'd say. You might want to come down and take a look yourself. One of the barristers is right here and wants to talk with you. "
"Thank you Henry," said William. He accepted the folder from the constable, flicked through the file and then tapped his desk as if he made a decision. "Call the courthouse and tell them I will be there in an hour. Send the lawyer in now."
After talking earnestly with the barrister and listening to the plea deal, William went over to the chalkboard with all the photographs of the death scene taped to it and the grid below. He pulled off all but the pictures of 2 men. He turned to Brackenreid. "We are going to need more proof. Inspector, I have another idea about following the money on this case," gesturing to the chalkboard. "I'm going to need more constables. Let me run this by you…."
"Bloody Hell!" was the response.