Here we come to a crucial point in John and his mom's relationship. It's a bit long, but the plot I think warrants a few extra sentences to finish off the point of it. He'll be shipping off to war shortly, so next chapter will be his final one in London.
Thank you again for any and all reviews. They really help keep me focused and hopefully on the right track writing this fic. Special thanks to mama-pirate-wench for her ideas and for letting me bounce plot points off of her.( Hope they didn't sting too much.) And also to lemacd for forcing me to think about what motivates John to react in certain ways, in certain situations.
The walk to the docks was less than a mile and John easily would have made it there in 15 minutes or less, but having his mother alongside demanded that he slow down his normal pace. He made a mental note to look into getting a ride for her on the return trip. Either that or he should be prepared to carry her home. As it was, it took over a half hour before they finally arrived at their destination.
John couldn't help but notice that quite a large group had gathered around the scene. As he and Elizabeth approached the crowd, the two policemen who had escorted them tried to clear a path through the mob.
"Move aside please… Police business…Please moves aside and let these people pass." John heard the murmur of the crowd as they made their way through. Instinctively he put his arm around his mom to shelter her from their scrutiny.
Elizabeth's breath hitched and she leaned even more into John as they slowly moved forward and towards the body on the ground. It looked to be laying a couple of meters off the water's edge. The closer they got, the more John was convinced that it was his father. As soon as he could make out the features of the corpse, John stopped and turned to his mother.
"Mum, I can identify the body… there's no point in you going to see for yourself. Would you like me to do that for you?"
John's mother let go of a great shuddering sigh and shook her head yes. There really was no point in her going to confirm it was her husband. She knew it was him. Elizabeth felt a huge wave of relief pass through her at the sound of John's proposal. She didn't want to actually see the body, his face. No point really when she already knew it was Shawn.
John checked to make sure that the officers had no problem with him doing the identification and they agreed it would be perfectly acceptable. As he neared the corpse he noticed that the taller of his police escorts had been pulled aside by what John assumed was another officer, only this one was not in uniform. A very animated conversation was taking place, but John ignored it and steadied himself to do the ID.
He looked down and stared at the face. That face that he had feared as a child and hated as an adult. It was Shawn all right. His father was dead. John continued to look down at the man and wondered if any sense of loss or sorrow would well up inside him. But he quickly realized that no such feelings were going to be forthcoming over the likes of Shawn Bates. The closest thing to feelings that weren't negative was the relief he felt that the man was gone, and that John had not been the one to kill him. It really hadn't dawned on him before, but he suddenly realized that his mother would have never been able to survive the blow of watching her son hang for killing his father.
Bates looked at the coroner who had just arrived on the scene. But instead of coming to John for the confirmation of identity, the man was pulled over to the plainclothes policeman and the tall uniformed bobby. Bates noticed them engaged in further conversation, the plainclothes man flailing away as he spoke. Curious to hear about what they were talking about, John gradually started to stroll in the direction of the trio when someone grabbed him by the shoulders and brought him to a stop.
"One more thing, Mr. Bates, we needja to look over the suicide note. If you know your father's hand it would help for you to confirm him as the author." It was the shorter policeman addressing John.
Bates agreed and walked away from the corpse and towards the trio of officers. They abruptly stopped talking as John meandered towards them.
"Is this yer father's handwriting, sir?" The note was shoved into John's hands. He was bothered that they actually shook as he opened the note.
I, Shawn Bates, put pen to paper knowing that this is my last words before I leave this world.
To my wife, Elizabeth I say I'm sorry. Ye deserved better than me. Now that I'll be gone, find someone worthy.
To my son, Johnny, I was not a good Da and I know I hurt you. I know it. But you bettered yerself and made me proud.
Sorry I was such a disappointment to the two of you. Blame it on the drink. I have no other excuse.
Forgive me.
John stared at the note and shook his head. No tears were forthcoming…no sense of relief…no granting of forgiveness. It was just words…with no meaning, no substance, no feeling of truth behind them. In Bates mind his father had chosen a coward's way out and John felt even more anger at his Da for taking that route. So much pain… so many hurts…so many lies. His thoughts drifted back on the more horrendous events of his childhood.
"Excuse me, Mr. Bates…Is it his hand, sir?" The officer's words jarred John back to the present.
"I'm-mm s-sorry," John stammered. He hadn't even considered the handwriting on the note, so focused was he on the content. "Just give me a moment, please."
John looked at the note again, this time intent on validating the penmanship as belonging to his father. He went over the first sentence and paused. The hand was familiar, but John wasn't sure it belonged to his dad. As he continued to read, John became more and more confused… the handwriting was very, very familiar but he couldn't say outright it belonged to Shawn.
"I'm honestly not sure," he replied to the officer. "Perhaps after my mother gets a chance to see the note, she'll be able to confirm its authenticity."
The policeman nodded and they headed over to where Elizabeth stood. John couldn't help but notice how extremely small and frail she looked. Her eyes grew wider as she saw him and his escort head in her direction. She noted that John held a scrap of paper in his hand.
"What dya have their, son?" John heard a tremor in his mother's voice.
"It's the note, mum, the one that Da wrote. Would you read over it and then confirm that it's his handwriting on it?"
She grabbed the note from John's hand, gave it a perfunctory look and then nodded her head yes. "It's Shawn's writing fer sure," she responded.
John noted that she barely looked at the piece of paper in her hands, at least not long enough to have actually read the contents.
He supposed that with all she had gone through with the man she probably doubted there would be any revelation concerning the life he'd been leading. She'd personally heard all the pleas for forgiveness, the mean degrading epithets he'd heap on her while under an alcohol fueled rage and the taunts that she withstood with their accompanying blows. John understood his mother's reluctance to read the meaningless words. There was nothing his father could have said that could have served as a basis for forgiveness.
John took the note back from Elizabeth and was just about to confirm with the office her ID of the handwriting when the coroner walked over.
"Mr. Bates, could you please come with me?"
"I was just about to give confirmation of the suicide letter to the officer here," John nodded in the direction of the uniformed copper.
"I understand sir, and you can give it to him shortly. It's just, um… there seems to be an irregularity concerning your father's suicide…" The coroner uttered the last part of the sentence in hushed tones. "Please just come with me. This won't take more than a minute to show you."
Reluctantly, John followed the coroner back to his father's body. He could tell by its positioning that it had been manipulated or moved since he'd last viewed it.
"Come closer Mr. Bates…," the plainclothes detective motioned to John. We've something to show you and would value your input regarding it."
John stepped forward and peered down at his father. The jacket he'd worn was flipped open on the left side. Bates wasn't sure what he was supposed to look for. The coroner put his hand on John's back encouraging him to get closer to the body.
"What am I supposed to notice?" questioned John. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he saw it. It was small and there was a black smudge circling it.. He couldn't believe his eyes and turned open mouthed towards the coroner.
"So you see it now?" the coroner smirked.
"Yes, but what is it?"
"It's a bullet hole Mr. Bates. Your father most likely did not commit suicide. It appears he was shot at very close range and also beaten. There are choke marks on his neck. We are assuming that after he was murdered his body was dumped off the quay into the basin."
John remained stunned at the revelation. "Not suicide…but who could've shot my father and why?"
"That's what we're hoping you'll be able to explain, Mr. Bates. Or at least point us in the right direction. Did your father have any enemies…anyone that would want to see him dead?"
Bates was still incredulous. Of course his father had run into some unsavory characters in his life. You couldn't live where they did without doing so. He may have even "borrowed" some money from them in times past, but he always paid them back including the interest. Had it been a debt gone bad? John ran his fingers through his hair as if doing so would bring some clarity to his jumbled thoughts.
Might it have been a jealous husband? Shawn was a known philanderer in their neighborhood. Had some cuckold spouse decided to kill Shawn in revenge for sleeping with his wife? But why the suicide note and in Shawn's own hand? No, this smacked of something more professional than a mere crime of passion.
"Mr. Bates, I asked if you knew of anyone who had a reason to harm your father? " The policeman's voice had an urgency to it.
John snapped out of his reverie at the sound of the detective's question. "I'm sorry... er, No, I cannot say that I knew of any one specific enemy my father had that would take such vengeance upon him. Again, I think it best to defer to my mother on this matter.
The police detective nodded and waved for the coroner and the other officers to follow him over to where Elizabeth was standing. John raced slightly ahead of the crowd in an effort to soften the impending onslaught of police and the questions that would be directed towards his mother.
Bates reached her just in time to blurt out, "The police don't believe Da's death was a suicide. He appears to have been beaten and then shot through the heart."
They both knew who the beating and choke marks had come from, but Elizabeth had seen Shawn after he'd escaped John. She recalled once again how her husband had cleaned up a bit and said he was off to look for some day work. She remembered wondering if he was telling the truth or merely spinning another tale to cover his dalliances with other women. At any rate It mattered naught to her any longer. Shawn was dead and that was all she cared or needed to know.
"Mrs. Bates, so sorry to have to question you at a time like this, but…ah…well, I'm not sure how to put this? There's been a discrepancy of sorts regarding Mr. Bates suicide." The coroner looked down at his shoes as he mumbled his apologies to Elizabeth. "It appears that he was actually murdered and did not commit suicide after all. "
John watched his mother's reaction. She stared at the coroner and blinked slowly twice, cleared her throat and spoke. " Murder, you said?... Why no, I know of no person that'd be after me husband, At least not like that.. No, I've no knowledge of Shawn being threatened any sorts of bodily harm." She shook her head adamantly as she spoke.
The man tipped his hat to Elizabeth and said, "Of course you wouldn't madam. But it's part of my job, and I've got to ask. Sorry to have upset you. It wasn't my intent"
Elizabeth appeared to bristle slightly as the man continued to speak. She really had nothing more to say on the matter. She just wanted to arrange to have the body taken to wherever it was dead bodies belonged. There'd be a simple service at which probably only she and John would attend and then he'd be put down in the ground. And that would be the end of that.
John felt slightly unnerved seeing his mum in that light. The stone cold visage, the dead appearance in her eyes. He's seen that look before, though he couldn't remember where or when or by whom at the moment. Mixed with his disquiet was also a touch of admiration for the women. She was bearing up admirably well in one sense. So perhaps this was just a public face that she put on for the outsiders. When they returned to her home, she'd be able to let her guard down.
John turned to the officers and asked, "Is there anything more you need from us? I'd like to take my mother home now. She obviously has nothing of use for you to use in your investigation."
The quartet of men looked amongst each other, their looks told John that there was something else that they needed to know. Finally the plainclothes man stepped up and asked. "We have to ask where you were Mr. Bates around 10am this morning… The coroner here has figured out that is probably the time around the murder occurred, based on the lividity of your father's body. Can you tell us where you were at that approximate time?"
John let go of a long sigh. He knew exactly where he was at 10am… he was home, waiting for the in-home care nurse Dr. Whelan was assigning to take care of Vera. John sighed again as he recalled the situation. "Yes, I can tell you exactly where I was. I was at home tending to my wife. She had had an unfortunate accident and after consulting with a Dr. Thomas Whelan, I was home waiting for a nurse that would be taking care of her medical needs in my absence during the day. Her name is Nancy Farrow and she can confirm I was at home during the time in question." The detective wrote the information down.
He tipped his hat to John when he was finished. "Thank you, Mr. Bates. If we have any further questions for you, where can we reach you?"
John pondered the question and answered best he could. "Well, I am shipping off to South Africa soon, so I'd wager the best way to get hold of me would be through the Army."
'You've my thanks for serving Queen and Country, sir. I doubt we'll need anything more from you as long as your whereabouts can be confirmed." With that the officer snapped his notebook shut and walked away.
John turned and saw his mom standing alone, her face passive but John could see the strain behind the façade. He walked towards her, his hands in his pockets, as he mindlessly kicked a stone up the road in her direction.
"We can go home now, Mum. The police have all the info they need. They'll get back to us if something comes up. The body has to go with the coroner for an autopsy, and when they're done with it, will contact us and let us take possession of the body for the funeral. Elizabeth nodded indicating she understood the procedure.
"Wait here and I'll see if I can find a ride for us." John gestured for his mom to wait in place as he scouted the area for some transportation.
"No need son, I'd prefer to walk. It's not that far…and besides, it's downhill in this direction." She gave a little wink to John. He was relieved to see her smile abit.
"Are you sure, Mum? It will just take me a few minutes to find a cart or wagon heading our way."
"Are ye questioning your mum's vitality? Shame on you John. Let's be off now. I'm feeling fine and the walk will help me clear me head."
John knew better than to argue. His mother's mind was made up, so he offered her his arm and headed down the road to their home in Whitecastle.
Elizabeth was correct in her assessment of the downward trajectory of the road back home. They were making much better time than they had in the reverse direction earlier in the day.
John noted that the further away they got from the crime scene, the more relieved his mother appeared. He thought he even saw the start of a small smile begin to form on her lips.
"So mum, I know it's probably too soon… you haven't had a chance to take it all in…but with Da gone what are you going to do? I mean going forward?"
No immediate response came from Elizabeth and John started mentally chastising himself for bringing up the subject too soon. Just when he was about to apologize for his apparent insensitivity, his mother answered.
"Ah, well I think the first thing I'd like to do is sell the house and move to a nicer part of London. My sister, your aunt Margaret, has a lovely little place up north and wanted me to move in with her for quite some time. She'd offered me the chance to buy into the house, but I couldn't do it… Not with yer father, you understand?"
John agreed, his father would never have "fit in" with a nicer part of town. And his auntie wouldn't want an alcoholic, ne'er-do-well living under her roof. He was glad that his mum had options and in fact her life might be taking a turn for the good now that Shawn was gone. A sense of relief passed over him at the thought she'd be leaving Whitechapel. And he also indulged in a smidge of self-satisfaction knowing that the extra pounds he'd been sending to his mother would help pave the way for her move.
"So, am I correct in assuming you'll be moving soon then? After the funeral?"
"I wish I could Johnny, but it may take me a while. I've got to save up some money for the buy-in. But maybe Margaret will take pity on me and let me move-in and just pay her over time."
John stopped in his tracks and turned to his mother. "I don't understand, mum… What about the money I've been sending to you?"
"What about it, son?" Elizabeth looked up at John with a quizzical look.
"Well…the money I sent you mum, what happened to it?"
"It's gone, John." She said it like it was the most logical answer in the world.
"Gone? Gone? All of it? How? Why?…Did Da find it and drink it away?"
"No son, I spent it," was Elizabeth's simple reply.
"Spent it!?" John stared incredulously at his mother. "What could you have possibly spent all that money on? It must have been close to 50 pounds I'd sent you!"
Elizabeth looked intently into John's eyes. He could tell she looked like she wanted to tell him something. But in the end she looked down at her shoes and shook her head.
"Mum?"
Elizabeth raised her head and looked her son directly in the eye. She rubbed her hand up and down his arm and then answered him with a wry smile upon her face.
"Things…Johnny...I spent it on 'things'".
She then turned her back on him and head towards the house.
John followed in silence.