Chapter 12_Winnipeg_T
The knot of their entangled bodies pulled so tightly against her edges she couldn't breathe. She wanted him closer… much, much closer. "Oh my God William, as hard as you can," her insides begged and pulled and sucked at him. "Touch me William, touch me harder," Julia craved, lured, drew him in. William's colossal effort so humungous, so demanding, pounding forward, driving forward, deeper and deeper, with each of his primal thrusts his roaring, hot breath flared, grunting and pumping, closer and closer and closer, with all of his might he shoved onward. His mouth seized her earlobe ruggedly, forcefully holding her in place for his final surge as she pulled him tighter, "Hurry, please hurry… William," she alerted, summoned, urged, for it was…
Inevitable… the collapse had begun, the wave, the first phenomenal wave hovered, tilted her world, whooshing its silence as it soared her up so high… to reach the abysmal peak, the drop from such a mountainous height threatening her very survival, before the pleasure, the ecstasy, William's delicious moan in her ear, wave after wave of pleasure, sweet and hot, and everywhere hot, rocking her, filling and bursting through her every atom, into her soul, as he ragingly thrust and thrust and thrust on top of her, touched her so intimately, so completely. And she loved him so much that the tears had already started to come, delirious with reaching for a few more, sultry, sumptuous drops of him…
"Mm," she moaned again, "I love you William. Oh my God I love you," she whispered, feeling her lips grazing across the ridges of his ear, as she squeezed as tight as she could until… his rhythm ceased, completely used up, leaving stillness except for their thunderous, rushed, hot breathing… and she let go, molten and pliant, with her heart pounding ferociously, beating against him on top of her, and he felt her wet tears against his cheek, and he would hold her there, perfect and with him, riding the slowing ripples of their eruptious love."
His enchanting voice in her ear, he told her that he thanked God every day for bringing him such a remarkable woman, that he has loved her with all of his heart and all of his soul. He swallowed, his throat dry, adding playfully, "Worth the wait," he chuckled, for they both knew it had been a long one.
William rolled off of her, brought his head close to her belly, and spoke to their baby inside of her. His voice vibrating with just the right tone, pitch, harmonious with her essence, he shared, "Your mother thinks you can hear me, and I hope you can, because that gives me some hope that, no matter what, you will know that nothing ever made your father happier than when you came into our lives, and I love you my little baby, my beautiful little baby, with all of my heart. Your mother also thinks you can feel her emotions as they pump through her blood, mingling with yours, and if she's right, then you already know that I'm breaking her heart right now, leaving you both… But I know you'll have each other, and I know the love your mother and I have for each other, the profound, astounding, awesome power and warmth and vigor of it, cannot die with me – because of you little baby, and so I ask of you to be good to your mother," he had become choked up but he pushed out a whispered, "good-bye." Then he got up, dressed in his undercover hobo clothing, tossed his backsack over his shoulder, and without looking back, he left.
Julia rushed to the front room window. She pulled the curtain back and watched until he stepped up into carriage and then watched the carriage pull away. Around the bend – gone now – gone forever, the sight of its absence, the knowledge of it, crushing her down to her very core, bursting her into a deluge of tears.
Awakening, from the spasms of her weeping, Julia reached over in the dark seeking the bulk and presence of his pillow, longing to take in the smell of him from his soft pajamas… finding only that nothing was all that was there, only emptiness, lonely and hollow. Her remembering of the reason that his pillow and his pajamas were not there – it came slowly at first, landing after the pain and the anger, drifting into her awareness, rocking with echoes, only then to smash in – hard, and she wept torrentially, for he was gone it was true – and he had left her planning to go to another… And maybe he didn't love her the way she had thought he had. And maybe it was all a lie. And she would never know… if he had loved her with all of his heart and with all of his soul.
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Torn, Ettie stood in the dim glowing light from the opened bathroom door looking down at William's blanketed, sleeping body on the floor. Her heart expanded with such force, throbbing with the heat of love. My God she cared for this man – like none other, ever. William's shivering concerned her. Reminding herself that he had been standing in the windswept tiny platform of a barreling train, in the teeming, freezing rain, for hours and hours on end, she felt a chill down her own spine as she tried to picture it. Aware of his body's struggle to get warm enough, she knew she needed to warm him up, and her imagining of cuddling close with him is what her mind offered up as a solution. Her body primally urged her to go to him.
And now, standing there looking down over him, the memory flashed of the first time – that she knew. It had been days after he had saved her life all those years ago, risking his own before her very eyes – taking on her monster. She thought she'd fallen in love with him then, for he was not only everything she had already fallen for, gorgeous, compassionate, so smart, focused, and my God the man was intense, but after his battle with her assailant she also knew that this man was brave and strong too. But then, a few days later, he had stopped by to let her know about the upcoming court case. He had stood there with her in her seedy little room, so handsome and kind. And he listened, really listened to her. She hadn't noticed that he had noticed, but her eyes had gotten stuck on Alice's fancy perfume bottle. William, too, had known Alice. They had met when Alice was still alive, and then Alice had been killed. Ettie was suffering intense grief with the loss of Alice, for she and Alice had been a team in the world – partners against the world it seemed – for years. And Ettie had never felt as alone as she felt then, without Alice anymore. And as she stood there, her eyes fixed on Alice's perfume bottle and her heart cried with the loss, she heard William say through the mist and the pain, that she must miss Alice terribly…
And somehow, the grief just erupted inside of her, and bubbled up to the surface, and she heard her own voice, speak from the heart, a heart she herself had not known she had, that told of such love and such suffering and such loneliness… and she turned to look at him… and that's when it happened. Ettie saw that William's big, warm, brown eyes – his eyes were watery, glistening and reddened. There was such care for her in those beautiful eyes. And suddenly she was not alone anymore. It was as if she had been swept up in a deluge, completely flooding, out of her control, she was carried away, the currents, the torrents of the gushing emotions had her and she had no choice but to ride it out. Somehow she already knew that despite the magical, lovely hum of the rush, the dizzying, enticing spin of her gravity, that there would be a landing, and it would be a hard one. She already knew that she would never be the same. And although she had never thought it possible, she knew at that moment that she, Ettie Weston, the tough, stand-alone woman of the hard-knocks life, had fallen in love.
Ever so slightly, she remembered the wonderful feeling of it now, she had leaned forward towards him, feeling pulled in, but fighting it. And then suddenly she had found herself in his arms, her tears muffled by the heavenly strength of his shoulder. She was safe, as she had never, ever, been before in all of her days. She had cried and he had held her and the storm had passed. Then he had offered her his handkerchief, so gentlemanly and chivalrous. And then she had kissed him. And then he had kissed back. Her need to love him, to make this remarkable man feel good, to feel superbly loved, had overpowered her and she had ravaged him mercilessly, dragging him under, flooding him with her love and with her lustful powers of seduction and lustful completion… And in the end she had been even more in love William Murdoch than before…
Now, still standing over him, her sigh announced her decision, reason prevailing; she would get him another blanket, she would not lay with him, for it was obvious that William did not want to lie, to sleep, with her. Their phone conversation from before he had left from Toronto replayed in her head. She had told him then that each of the rooms in her "Coffee House" has a permanent occupant, a woman who serves customers, many of whom spend the night, thus no man could rent a room without also renting someone's company. Of course, William and his friend would not be paying for these accommodations, but still, she had explained to him that each of them would have to share a different room with its occupant. Shaking her head to herself she reflected, "He shouldn't have been surprised by the arrangement… but maybe he didn't expect to be in my room." She and he, they had a history. Perhaps it was for that very same reason that he expected not to be with her. Coping with the disappointment as best as she could, she covered him with an extra blanket, resisting every powerful urge she felt to do more, and then crawled into her bed without him.
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Eloise used her key and let herself in. Before she went to the kitchen with her bags of groceries, she decided to check on the doctor, having found herself unable to sleep with worry for her all night. She dropped her packages on the table in the foyer and quietly headed up the stairs, listening intently for any signs from the troubled woman. Arriving at their closed bedroom door at the top of the stairs, she stealthily leaned against the door and held her breath, listening. Relief poured through her with the subtle sounds. Dr. Ogden was in the bathroom, water running and an occasional clank. "Thank God," Eloise thought, having had pictured the woman curled up in a fetal ball, crying her eyes out, having thrown-up all night, with her distress.
As quietly as possible, she went back downstairs to prepare breakfast. She hoped with all her might that the detective was fine, that he would come home soon. Eloise caught the sight of it, out of the corner of her eye, it causing her pause before she picked up her grocery bags. The pile of bedding the doctor had left by the couch for the detective once he returned, if he returned, the same pile still remained.
Whatever the man had done to make her angry, to hurt her so, Eloise was certain it was all a mistake. In all of her time on this Earth she had never seen a comparable love as theirs – and even more so, she had never even imagined it possible that a man could be so devoted to a woman as the detective was to the doctor. Eloise had followed their romance for years, having known and worked for the doctor since before she had left for Buffalo. Why, Eloise had often entertained notions of how differently things would have turned out if she had been the one working for the Garland's rather than that vile woman who testified against Dr. Ogden at that godforsaken trial. So often she found she had wished she could have moved into the Garland household, bringing her husband along in tow – but it was not meant to be. Suffice it to say, however, that she knew that she didn't know everything, but she knew enough – the detective would never do anything to hurt Dr. Ogden, not if he could help it. "My God, please get home soon detective. You've got to fix this mess up," she thought to herself, shaking her head with the pain of it, pushing away any thoughts of his not ever returning at all.
A little while later, Julia limped towards the kitchen, her badly cut heel throbbing and currently housed in a pair of William's slippers. Thinking she was too upset to eat, she was considering different ways to break the news to Eloise, who had clearly worked hard to make her a good breakfast. The brightness of the kitchen caused her to squint, exaggerating the swelling of her face from all of her crying. Eloise turned to gaze upon her, her eyes drifting down to the odd choice of footwear.
"Oh, I uh…" Julia tried to explain, "Last night I…" the memory of the agony, not from the slicing open of her flesh when she had stepped on the broken locket, but more so from the dramatic suffering to her spirit from the reason she had broken it in the first place, it seemed to take all of the air out of the sunny room. Their eyes touched, and Julia had this strong urge to fall into the woman's arms.
She swallowed, pushed the feelings down to best handle them, to best cope. "Stepped on something, um… cut my foot," she said. Forcing herself to move on, she turned to look at the stove. "French toast!" she exclaimed, surprised she hadn't noticed the delightful smell of it earlier.
Eloise pulled out the doctor's chair at the breakfast table. "I figured it would be a good day to pamper you some, doctor," she replied. Eloise had known for years that French toast was the doctor's favorite.
Julia decided to brave telling her the truth, warning, "I'm afraid I don't have much of an appetite…"
The sadness in her statement broke Eloise's heart even more. "Well for the little one then, hmm?" Eloise encouraged, using the term she had heard the doctor herself use so often when addressing her unborn child, hoping to connect with her, and to bring the anguished woman's attention to something happier.
Surprisingly, Julia discovered she was famished with the first few bites of the delicious comfort food. She had not eaten anything of significance since receiving Ettie Weston's phone call the day before, and she seemed determined to make up for the absence all in this one sitting.
After eating a hearty second helping, Julia thanked Eloise profusely. She brought a loving smile to the older woman's face when she asked if she could make the same meal for dinner tonight as well.
"It comforts you, eases some of the pain? Eloise asked, seeing tears instantly fill the doctor's eyes with the grace of receiving another's compassion. Contagious that emotion, Eloise felt the heat and the swelling in her own eyes as well and unconsciously she tilted her head, and just a little, she opened her arms, and Julia whimpered, breaking her heart even more, and unable to hold herself back, Julia collapsed into the woman's hugging embrace.
"It'll be alright. I'm sure he'll be home soon. You'll see," Eloise soothed as she held the shaking woman and cupped her head, and stroked her wavy curls.
Powerfully and quickly, the waves passed and Julia soon felt the relief of having shared her burden with another. "Thank you," she said, sniffling and drying her eyes with Eloise's dishtowel, confident that Eloise truly knew the value of her kindness. "The baby furniture is coming today," Julia said, changing the subject, trying so hard.
"Wonderful," Elise offered.
Julia made her best effort at a smile and thanked her again and then took her leave.
Only a few minutes later, Eloise was nearly finished cleaning up in the kitchen, her plans for the day running though her head, she had much to do, all of the upstairs cleaning today. She pondered suggesting to the doctor that she take up her experiment again. It had seemed to excite her so, before the dreadful phone call came. Perhaps it would be best if she didn't bring it up…
The phone rang, and she couldn't help it, she felt such a fear and a dread with the sound. She tried to change her reaction, perhaps it was the detective calling to say he was fine, that he would be home soon, Eloise thought as she rushed to the foyer to get it.
The sight when she arrived, it was devastatingly painful. The phone still rang. The doctor and Eloise's eyes met across the room, bouncing from each other to the phone and back again. There was such terror in the doctor's eyes… But mostly, the pain of it sank deeper and deeper into Elise's heart as she processed it, figured it out, what it was that the doctor had been doing when the phone had started to ring…
It seemed that Dr. Ogden must have stepped close to the detective's coat, and his maroon scarf, and his hat, all hanging, empty, without him, on the coat rack… And she must have stepped up to them, and let her face sink into the plush fabric, to be surrounded as much as possible by him, by his scent, by his memory. She had pulled the outer edges of the coat, its sides, its arms, around her, trying to get herself as deeply nestled into it as possible, and she'd wrapped the soft, maroon scarf around her neck, pulled it up close to her nose. She had been weeping there, missing him…
"I can't," the doctor said, her eyes pleading… begging for Eloise to be strong enough to answer the phone, but more so for what she feared so much not to be true. "Please no. Please no," her head had been screaming the mantra with the incessant rings. All form of reason had failed to un-stun her, having told herself that, if it were truly bad news, a man like the Inspector wouldn't call, he would come here in person, ring the doorbell, offer her his shoulder to her with such unbearable news, and yet still, she could not move.
"It's the Inspector," Eloise said, holding the phone out to her. Listening, there was neither sigh of relief nor collapse into despair. Somehow, even though he had, "good news," that none of the myriad of constables checking every inch of every train route from here to Winnipeg had found anything, meaning no bodies and no reports of any wrongdoing, and yet, somehow his call offered her no relief. William was still missing. William could still be dead, or hurt somewhere, and she might never, ever see him again, might never know what had become of him, and she would have to live without him, and she just knew down to her bones that she couldn't, and that she would, for there was a baby coming, and it was William himself who had fathered it, and she already loved this baby so, and it would need her, even more without him… And still, everything was not alright, and it wouldn't be, until she could breathe again, until he was here with her… not till then. It seemed, for now, that her hurt had been harbored, so overshadowed by her missing him.
) (
Upstairs cleaning their bedroom, Eloise found the half of the golden locket on the doctor's vanity. Taking the tiny treasure in her hand, feeling its importance, she examined it. The chain still hung from the top of it. Inside was an older picture of the doctor, and it was obvious to her that somewhere in the world there existed the other half – and it would have his picture, and it would likely also be from as long ago as hers. A tiny square-shaped piece of metal stuck up rigidly at its edge, torn from its matching notch. Now it seemed – to wait. On it there was blood. Eloise almost gasped as she re-ran the picture of the doctor down in the kitchen this morning – her feet inside his roomy slippers. "Perhaps she broke it last night and then stepped on it!" Eloise wondered.
She took up the hunt, searching the room's every nook and cranny for the detective's half of the locket. She moved the vanity over, and then his bureau. And there it was, complete with a matching piece of metal sticking up as well, reaching for, waiting for, missing, its notch too. "The detective will be able to fix it, I'm sure," she thought as she carefully placed it next to its other half.
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When William awoke the next morning, the smell of mouth-watering pancakes and eggs, and bacon permeating his nostrils, seeping down into his brain, his stomach, and his hunger announced itself. He stirred, thinking on the fact that the makeshift bed had been quite comfortable.
"Are you awake, William?" Ettie's voice came from behind him up on her bed.
"Mm-hmm," he answered. "Is that breakfast I smell?" he asked, his voice dry and scratchy from deep sleep, as he rubbed his eyes and then turned onto his side better facing her.
Through her smile, finding that her heart was swelling and warming again, she replied, a tone of teasing with her words, "It is a coffee house after all, Will. My customers expect the quality of the cooking to match the quality of the other services I provide…" She lifted her covers and moved towards his temporary bed on the floor, "Services I believe you have not yet had the privilege of indulging in, Mr. Codrum," Ettie's sexy voice added, as she slipped under the blanket, joining him on the floor.
William's heart began to race, danger and excitement charging him. Ettie Weston had always had a way of throwing him off guard. Now, here, once again he found himself dumbfounded, flustered, stunned – caught in her net, wanting and not wanting to be there. Choices began to run through his head – tell her 'no' now before it's too late, get up now before it's too late… "Whatever you do, don't look down at her bosom!" he yelled his advice to himself. He failed in this endeavor however, the jolt to his groin attesting to the power of the view. The fabric of her negligee… absolutely breathtaking… translucent and so, so, tight. It made his head spin and swirl, and his breathing rush. The curves of the two sumptuously creamy orbs, delicious and moldable, made his fingers itch, his jaw muscles tighten, as he fought his urges to touch, to taste, to squeeze.
Ettie slid in to lie on her side next to him, sharing his covers, her chin in her hand, propped up on her elbow, matching her posture to his, and they looked at each other eye-to-eye. "Remember when we used to lie together like this for hours, exploring each other, hmm?" she asked inching closer, surging his head into screaming its warnings at him now. "Touching, traveling, every avenue of each other, getting to know each other intimately – mind and…" Ettie raised an eyebrow at him, tempting him with her mischief, and such an enticing sparkle, "…body… Oh, most definitely body," she said her warm breath pouring between them as she said it, surrounding him, capturing him within its primitive, humid lure.
Hovering too close to the flame, William took exception to her statement, feeling the need to remind her, to remind himself, of the boundaries they had drawn, now leaning in closer to her to give his professorial lecture, his tenor now private, almost a whisper, he corrected, "We didn't "lie" and "know" in the biblical sense... well, not absolutely I mean," William's face blushed and he needed to clear his throat drawing even more attention to his uneasiness with his own comment, but he continued, "I mean we…" he paused, this was going to be harder for him to say than he had expected. He had been considering saying that they had only used Plan C… back then, but he knew Ettie would have no idea what he meant by "Plan C," and there was no way he was going to actually describe what they had done over a decade ago when they had each pleasured each other.
She had seen it though, a quick flash, of William's discomfort – miniscule but present, and the pink flush had suggested to her that he felt ashamed of the memory. Ettie assumed his distress was with his remembering how naïve and inexperienced he had been back then. The memory of how young, and vulnerable, and truly beautiful he had been all those years ago, it made her smile. In all her days she had never known anyone so lovely. Oh, and her womb twisted and throbbed in anticipation with the memories, for with these memories came her awareness of the fact that she knew that, with William Murdoch, when that little barrier of shame was disabled – such disabling being a skill for which Ettie knew she had always been a master – she knew that in William Murdoch's case, once that shame was overcome… then what was there to be discovered, and enjoyed, was a man who was bursting with joie de vie, tender, and savage and open and willing to learn. This man had always been a master of self-control and my God was he motivated to use that self-control to improve the lovemaking, not only for himself but for her as well – and capable… and, Oh My, this man had always, always been so very, very delicious. Ettie marveled with the intensity of her arousal. She wanted him and she wanted him deeply, her insides nearly shouting with their urgency.
She slid closer, and he felt a stir down below, his breath catching, his groin rising. She touched the top button on his silk pajama top, popping it opened, and said, "But now Will, now we could..." Her lips, her breath, suspended, surging him, spinning him, stealing his breath with the danger… Her soft bosom pillowed against his chest, through the thin veneer of her negligee – the stark contrast between her pliable, supple flesh and his muscular, rigid tone sending William's groin into high alert. Her fingers slipped into his hair. Her voice unfamiliar and yet remnant in the same moment, "We could do that now, lie together, in the biblical sense." And with that her lips took his, luscious, soft, warm, rhythmically enticing him to open to her as her hot breath flooded over him, and he felt more of her magnificent curvy body push solidly against him, and her velvety tongue lingered and coaxed, so wet, and soft.
William surrendered, and he kissed back, his brain hollering with all its might for him to lean back, to stop, stop! Ettie's hand – now, with her fingers delicate on his neck, next kneading and grabbing at his pectoral muscle, now his stomach… Only seconds more and he would not be able to deny it, how aroused he was. Terror flooded!
William pushed her away, ceasing her progression, and he hurried to explain, "Ettie, I can't."
So fast, William was alone in his sea of blankets and pillows on the floor. Ettie had run for the bathroom, crying, William immediately on her heels. He stopped her, turned her to face him in front of the bathroom door. Wham… William felt his body react to the sight of her. He had not seen a shapely, nearly naked, woman – at least not one that was not very, very pregnant – for quite some time. He prayed the pajama bottoms cloaking him were not as revealing as he feared. He swallowed and prepared to talk, his eyes wide and holding firmly to hers, with the back of his mind working to get a handle on his male urges.
It was Ettie's voice that spoke first. He noticed, the thought panicking his gut with guilt for subconsciously it reminded him of Julia, that Ettie's voice did not squeak when she was upset. "I have loved you Will for so long, and I have never quite understood it, I mean you are just a man, like any other," Ettie told him, pausing to question herself on this fact, the intellectual effort of doing so calming her. She went on, "Well not really like any other. It is rare that a man who is as handsome as you, and smart and brave… but mostly what you are Will…" her eyes met his again, "is kind, sensitive to the world. My God I've loved you so long. And I always knew…" She shook her head at the sadness of it, rejecting her own love, disregarding it as unworthy, and she continued, "I always knew…"and her crying resumed, "that I would only be in your way…" Choked-up again, she pushed herself to say, "An upstanding man, Will, you truly are, you always have been. And I knew it would never work – me – with who it is that I was, that I… am."
Ettie couldn't help but show her shame, her hurt with not being good enough for him, and tears formed and poured down her cheeks once more. She swallowed, fighting to find her voice for she was overwhelmed by the humiliation and by the power of her emotions, "I used to give you such a hard time about your thinking you were too good for me… I don't know if you did think you were, maybe you always have thought so, maybe you still do I guess, but I thought it Will. I thought it… I have always thought it," she cried, so desperate for air now she had to stop take a breath.
He had never known her to be abundant with her words, even less so with her feelings. It had always been something he had thought they had had in common. And now seeing it… her turmoil, her obvious, nearly unbearable, pain, it tugged violently at his heart.
She went on, surprising both of them, "Well, obviously, it has been a long time since… since I have entertained the thought that you might… care for me… But, well, I started thinking that maybe you weren't so happy, um, in your marriage," she hurried to explain, "I mean the papers say it's a fairytale romance and all between you and… her. My God, look at the way the two of you professed your love for each other at her trial for instance… But still I often wondered. I mean, you just didn't seem the type to me Will, to marry a wealthy, sophisticated…" Ettie thought about holding back, hiding her ugly jealous envy and distaste for his wife, but she had pulled back the veil now, and it was too late, so she said it, "…snob," she finished her sentence assertively. "And if you weren't happy, but you were married… Well, I'll have you know most of the men here are married Will…" she said, pausing to make sure he would get her point, that he would put two and two together about what it is that the mostly married men do in brothels, and she went on, "And then… Well you didn't tell your wife that you were meeting me here, kept her in the dark about the fact that you would be staying with me here. And I thought that meant… Of course, now I know I was wrong, but I thought it meant that you did love me and you were hiding it from her… and I thought that now that you were a married toff, and you were free from having the world judging who you spend your time with… you, now an upstanding man married to an upstanding woman. Well, no one would expect such an affair… and no one would care much if such a man had taken a mistress anyway… And I just thought, you and I would finally have a chance. But now I know I was wrong… And I'm sorry, and I'm embarrassed, and mostly I just had gotten my hopes up so high… and I'm so truly devastated Will," she finished, fixing her eyes to his, waiting, teetering on the edge of falling into sobbing or falling into his arms.
Silent now…
So much had gone through his mind while she had been speaking, revealing her darker insecurities, wearing her heart out on her sleeve. And yet now he was speechless. William's eyes found Julia's photograph on the floor, sticking out from under the blankets. He had taken it out of his backsack the night before, concerned that all the rain might have damaged it, and grateful for its survival, he had allowed himself the pleasure of looking at Julia's image for a while before he had turned out the light and yielded to sleep.
William's voice started slow and soft, "It is a fairytale, Ettie," he said, "what Julia and I have… together. I have loved Julia for a very long time. I have loved her like I never thought it was possible to love someone…" William walked over and leaned down to pick up Julia's picture, Ettie seeing it and almost gasping with the significance of it being there, next to him while he had slept. "The last time you saw me in Toronto, years and years ago, when one of the women who worked for you in your "Music Academy," had been killed…" he went on, lifting his eyes off of the picture to meet hers, "I was crazy in love with her… by then."
"Did she love you too… that long ago?" Ettie asked, "I mean Will, it was years and years before you married her – the time you speak of was many years before even the whole trial where it came out about your affair."
William thought about correcting Ettie's belief that he and Julia had had an affair, back before Darcy had been killed by Gillies. He figured her believing that he had had an affair would only provide fuel for the fire Ettie already had kindled for him, making it more likely for her to expect that he would be opened to having an affair with her now – for if he were willing to do so once before, if he were willing to marry a woman who had had an affair while she was married to another, why not again, why not with her? But, the conversation had moved on, and he had missed the opportunity.
"I'd wager she fell for you when you saved her from that monster… that ghoulish man who had buried her alive… when she was still married to that American toff doctor – the same one who so brilliantly framed her for his murder, nearly got her hung, if not for you?" Ettie asked, revealing that she had followed his life closely over the years.
William wrinkled a corner of his mouth, admitting to himself, to her, that there was so very much to their story, to the story of his and Julia's love. "No, actually, she says it was long before that for her too…" he began his tale, carefully tucking Julia's picture back into his backsack. "Julia was already in love with me when you first met her, although I didn't know it, when she served as the pathologist on that same case, the one with the judge and the artist. She says she fell in love with me when she was almost killed by a different man. A sadistic killer," William raised an eyebrow as he spoke, reflecting on the brutality and threat that had been posed by James Orville, "a man who we believe might have been Jack-the-Ripper." For a moment, William's mind threatened to run off on this tangent, wondering to himself why he hadn't pursued his suspicions of the significance of the culprit in this case at the time, but Ettie's voice pulled him back.
"So then it is as I thought, another woman who fell for you after you saved her life," she said, implying that his doing so in her own case had been part of her falling in love with him.
"No," William responded quickly, "Julia killed that man… in self-defense." He did not plan on going into Julia's story, from when he had helped her through her traumatic reactions after Orville had tried to kill her, his being trustworthy and caring of her then being the spark that Julia claims had pushed her into the tumble of falling in love with him.
"Oh," Ettie replied. It appeared to her that this Julia Ogden of his must be a stronger woman than Ettie had originally thought. Perhaps she had judged the woman harshly. Jealousy was not very familiar to her, and she was coming to accept that her feeling such jealousy would likely have clouded her judgement and made her prone to holding to ideas of this Dr. Ogden that would be far from flattering, wanting to believe that the one who William truly loved – instead of her – was not worthy of him.
There was a brief pause…
William found himself pondering about Meyers in all this. He had not really thought about it last night – too tired, too much else going on – but now that he did, his instincts told him that Meyers was quite in love with Ettie. William began to nod slightly to himself, thinking, "Yes, Meyers had definitely behaved as if he was jealous of me, last night, finding me here, in Ettie's room, in pajamas, about to get into her bed."
Deciding to bring it up, he started, "Ettie it seems to me that there is someone who feels… jealous, um, jealous when he thinks that someone else has eyes for you…"
"I promise you Will, no one," Ettie immediately interrupted, certain there was no one in the world who cared for her so exclusively.
"I beg to differ," William explained, "He came here last night, before you… Uh, right after I had my shower. Ettie… Terrence Meyers, he seemed to be incredibly jealous when he came here last night."
"You know Terrence?" she asked, avoiding William's point. William felt a pang of compassion being stirred in him for Meyers, for didn't Ettie's avoiding discussing Meyers' jealousy of anyone interested romantically in her indicate that she did not feel the same way about him?
He refocused, "Yes, I know him. And that is not the point, Ettie. He…" William nodded his head, agreeing with himself, encouraging himself to hold to his argument. "He is clearly a man in love, and not sure what to do about it." For the briefest moment, William remembered the many years he was in the same state over Julia. My God, he thought, grateful now for how fortunate he had been that in the end Julia had felt the same way about him as he had felt for her. That was part of the magic of their story, he guessed.
Ettie countered, claiming, "Terrence Meyers will never love any woman. It would mess up his spying," she said.
To William, it sounded like Ettie had been hurt, felt neglected by Meyers. Perhaps Meyers had not done very well at telling her how he felt… William almost laughed out loud at the recognition, once again, of how much Meyers was like himself, and how the man's behavior with Ettie was so similar to how he had been with Julia.
Stubbornly, Ettie went back to her feelings about him. "When you married her Will, I was convinced the reason you couldn't love me was because I was just a lowly whor…"
He stopped her, unwilling to let her degrade herself so, grasping hold of her shoulders. And she looked into his face, and her heart broke some more, for she saw that he did care for her… and it hurt so… that it would never be more than that.
She pulled herself free, and offered, "I told myself that you must have wanted a toff after all."
"No…" William started to object.
"I thought you married her for money, and when you didn't tell her you were coming to me… I… I really thought that you loved me after all," Ettie started to cry again, "that we… we would have an affair…"
William took a hold of Ettie's upper arms again, held her eyes to hers. He shook his head, passionately rejecting her claims, he explained, "No, no Ettie. I love Julia… terribly, devastatingly. She is my very life. All the toff stuff, all the money and all the stuffiness, and servants and all that, it only adds complications… and causes fights, sometimes. It's not what I wanted. I uh, I only ever wanted her… despite so much that seemed to be put in our way, I only ever wanted her, Ettie." His eyes seemed to beg for her to understand, to see.
Ettie stepped back, freeing herself from his grip, his insistence. She needed to stand alone, as always, she was alone. She knew that now. She needed to put back up the walls, find her own inner strength – like always. Taking a deep breath, building her resolve, she said, with sadness lingering in her tone, and adding a little self-deprecating chuckle, "Deep down I knew you wouldn't marry for money, Will. Your heart is too good for such motives to drive you."
She moved even further away, picking up the pillows and blankets on the floor – as ever getting back to work. She spoke without looking at him, more to herself, perhaps, than to him. "I love you Will… have since back then…" Her eyes jumped up at him suddenly, driven to be honest, she said, "I love you now, though I know my love will go unanswered."
"You know Ettie, I have told you… I love Julia… We're having a baby. I can't…"
Ettie's chin jutted up, "I know. I know Will. I definitely know… And I have told you that I am devastated about it. And we are done there. Are we not?!" she demanded.
All at once relief and regret and he wasn't sure what else, but it seemed there was quite a lot, flooded through him. "We are," he admitted, wrinkling up a corner of his mouth as he characteristically tended to do when his words could not wholly express what he felt. He picked up the blanket, helping her with the task.
Suddenly it hit him hard, surging small chills of panic in his core. "Ettie," he asked, trying with all his might to stay calm, "How did you know I didn't tell Julia I would be staying here with you?"
He could tell he had failed in hiding his fear by her expression as she said, also speaking deliberately, slowly, trying to lend towards calm. "We, uh, we spoke," she said.
Oh, that was not good, William's mind scurried in multiple directions, hearing the high-pitched note of dread begin to play in his head, starting his heart to race. Aware Ettie had continued to speak, William coached himself to listen, to pay attention.
"… I mean Will, a maid answered your phone. Why wouldn't I think you had become a toff, just like your cousin over there in the States. But then… well she was so shocked when I told her that you had planned to meet me here. That's why I thought you did that on purpose – intentionally keeping it a secret from her – so we could safely have our affair…"
"You what?" he begged her for it not to be true.
Looking worried, Ettie repeated, "I called your home and spoke to your wife and told her that I was worried because you had not shown up here as you had planned to do."
"You did what!? Why?!" he exclaimed, his eyes threatening tears and his throat seeming to close up with fear.
Defending herself, now feeling regret for all of the glee she had had with his wife's distress before, Ettie explained, "Because you were missing, Will. I was worried. And then I thought maybe you decided not come and just didn't bother to call to tell me. Either way, I wanted to know, whether to be hurt and angry or worried. Turned out it was worried."
William was terrified, knowing Julia would be sick with worry. "I have to call her," he screamed at himself. As William imagined calling Julia, after she had found out that he had planned – and he would have to tell her that now he was – staying with Ettie, it sent his insides into tumultuous nausea. "She will be upset, he thought, "My God, I'm going to throw up."
"Ettie, I have to call her," he said, his eyes pleading with her.
Ettie's eyes drifted over to the nightstand by her bed, to the phone. "I'll… I need to go downstairs and make sure all is on track," she told him, knowing he would want to be alone for the call.
Gratitude flooded over William's face. "Thank you," he said simply. It took all William had not to wring his hands.
Ettie opened one of the closets in the room and said, "Most of the clothing in here will fit you, maybe not the shoes…" Ettie leaned down and lifted a pair of cowboy boots into the air – this was Winnipeg after all. "Size 9," she offered.
"Thank you Ettie," William replied, his heart still racing with panic in his chest, "You've been more than kind," he said, with a small bow.
As soon as her bedroom door closed, William stepped to the phone, imagining what Julia would be doing when it rang in Toronto, considering the time difference, knowing it was later there. "Maybe Eloise would be out shopping," he thought. He sat on her bed and started to dial, suddenly jumping up to stand, instead, once he heard the phone start to ring. Sitting on Ettie Weston's bed, of all things, would be completely intolerable during this conversation – actually this whole conversation scared the hell out of him.
))) (((
A bundle of dirty clothes in her arms, Eloise was halfway down the stairs when the phone rang. She couldn't help but remember the intensity of the concern on the doctor's face earlier when the phone had rung. Eloise put the pile of laundry down on the table near the phone in the foyer, and lifted the receiver. "Murdoch – Ogden residence," she answered.
The detective's voice, she'd know it anywhere, and the beautiful tone of it surged her heart more than she could have imagined it would, rendering her dizzy, feeling intoxicated, needing to place her hand down on the table to stabilize her balance. She would never remember what it was he had actually said, only that it was him, and he was alive, and the doctor had been saved!
"Detective," she nearly screamed into the phone, "we were so worried… Thank the Lord, you're alright… You are alright, sir?" she asked.
William heard it in her voice, she had been frightened, and if Eloise had been that worried, how scared must Julia had been. Intense guilt and regret filled him. Of course she was terrified, particularly after Ettie called saying something had gone wrong, that he hadn't shown up like he had planned…
"I'm so sorry," he said. "I'm fine. Um, Eloise, is Julia there? Is she alright?" he asked, suddenly worrying that something might have gone wrong with the baby… with her being so upset…
"She has been having a hard time detective, but she'll be so glad to hear your voice," Eloise now felt she had best hurry. "I'll get her, sir," she said, and then placed the receiver down.
Eloise's footsteps pounded on the staircase down into the basement, alerting Julia to the hope. She had heard the phone, knew Eloise would have answered it. "She wouldn't run so if it was bad news," Julia told herself, feeling her heart start to flutter.
"Dr. Ogden," she called. Julia was already heading up the stairs…
"Is it William?" she asked excitedly.
"It is," Eloise declared, "It's him, doctor!"
Tears glistened her eyes. "Oh thank God!" Julia whispered to herself, her hand covering her heart as she felt it skip a beat, feeling that she was actually thanking Him… Thanking William's God… He felt real to her in that moment. By the time she reached the top of the stairs, stood over the phone, it gurgled up from her depths… the emotion arriving before the thought, she remembered that he had hurt her, that she was angry with him. Overwhelmed by it all, but needing to hear his voice more than anything else in the world, she took a deep breath and lifted the receiver. Her voice declared her highly emotional state with its customary squeaky tone.
"William? Are you alright?" she asked. And there it was, his voice, and the world seemed to spin with the floating relief of it while at the same time she had never felt so solidly grounded as in this moment when she had the guarantee that he was alive, he was still there, his magnificent, perfect voice in her ear.
"Julia, I'm fine. I'm so sorry to have frightened you so, Julia…"
"William, Oh, thank God…" her voice almost whispered to herself, "William, it's you. You're alive. You're alright…" Julia cried, over and over, reassuring herself. "William," her tears started to flow.
"I am. I'm fine Julia. You, the baby?" he asked.
"Fine William, fine," she answered, but her jaw was locking, her anger had caught up. How dare he act like he had been worried about her? The upset squeak was gone now.
William sensed the change in her tone, suddenly desperate with the need to explain. He hurried, justifying the delay, "George and I got on the wrong train – went to Chicago instead…" In the back of William's mind, the images and memories ran through him so fast it made him dizzy – Sin and then Clegg and hiding in the retching garbage and the jungle and Jack and Flannel Bull and the boy being taken and then the pigs and repeating the sin of torturing them again and again, and getting caught in Armour's office, and then, Oh my God had he killed the man? He still didn't know – and Armour was Julia's cousin! And then escaping his imminent capture in the USA, getting stuck outside in the freezing rain while the train hurled through the night, and Meyers and Ettie, and being tempted to – but never, really he would never!
Somehow William had managed to continue to speak with all that flooding through his brain, "But we got a break on the case in Chicago. I have evidence now…"
Julia felt it, her rage surging towards the surface. If she stayed on the phone with him much longer she would explode. She interrupted him, her tone curt, that being the best she could do, "I know it is risky for you to call William, that I have to let you go. And I suppose you made it to Miss Weston's brothel as you had planned all along, or you wouldn't have called at all, and for that, I would ask that you please thank her for me… Will. Good-bye."
The phone receiver was back in its cradle so quickly, she couldn't tell whether or not he had tried to stop her or was left stunned and silent as she expected of him with her veiled attack. Her fury had hit, and she really, really didn't care. Julia felt Eloise watching her, was sure she heard the woman gasp. She wanted to break something, having a witness to her loss of control only angered her more. "Arghh!" she screamed and groaned as she punched the table. She marched over to the coat rack, where only an hour ago she had longingly wrapped herself in his pseudo-presence. Grabbing his beloved homburg, she charged for the front door, having every intention of throwing his treasured hat in the garbage before the city trash wagon collected it from the street. She saw Eloise out of the corner of her eye, throw her hands over her mouth, stifling her cry somewhat.
"Doctor, no," the other woman declared under her self-imposed muzzle.
Julia flung open the door to be hit in the face with the windswept freezing rain and hail – for the storm that had entrapped William and George, nearly freezing them to death, had traveled east and now pelted Toronto. Wearing only her dress and his slippers, Julia rushed into the storm, barreling for the trash can at the end of their front path with his hat. Arriving to find that the trash had already been collected, she kicked the can ferociously with her injured foot, somehow repeatedly enjoying the physical pain ensued by the act, somehow feeling she deserved it, that it matched what she felt in her soul.
"Goshdarnit!" she screamed at the world. "Darn William Murdoch! Darn him!" she screamed again, but the hate of it, the anger of it, the pain of it, collapsed her fury and she fell apart, dropped down onto her knees into the frigid puddled street, crying.
Eloise scooped her up. "Come now doctor. You'll catch yourself your death out here in this," the woman said as she helped Julia stand, retrieved the empty garbage pail, and led her back into the house. Eloise placed the trash can in its spot under the porch before they rushed up the front steps, being paused by Julia as she tossed his homburg into the empty, stinky can.
"I'm so infuriated with him Eloise," Julia explained, feeling weak and embarrassed now that the energy of the emotional thunder and lightning has passed.
Heartbroken and unable to find words, Eloise took her under her arm and guided her back into the house. Acknowledging Julia's suffering, she said to her, "I know. I know," wishing she could once more take her into her arms and help take away the pain. They rushed upstairs to the bedroom and got Julia out of her soaking-wet clothes and then into a hot bath. Julia insisted that Eloise too remove her wet clothing, offering her a warm nightgown and robe to use in the meantime. They would use the laundry cupboard and clean Eloise's clothes for her to change back into later.
Sadness enveloped Eloise as she closed their bedroom door, her wet clothes in her arms, hearing the doctor start to cry again. In the foyer, Eloise hesitated entertaining the idea of saving the detective's hat. "No," she thought, "That's the doctor's decision, not mine," and she headed for the kitchen. The detective was such a marvelous man, she thought as she placed the drenched clothing into the laundry cupboard, brilliant with all his inventions. It's so hard to believe he would…" she shook her head, uncertain what it is he had done really, but it involved another woman – this Miss Weston, and a brothel, and it seemed it was truly dire, and it was so, so hard to believe of the man.
)) ((
Sitting at a small table in the café-section of "Miss Weston's Coffee House," George and William were talking over a hearty breakfast. It was taking enormous effort for William to push away his feelings, to focus on the case at hand. The best he could do was coach himself that he would have to fix things with Julia later, feeling so distraught however, by intrusive thoughts about whether it would ever be truly fixable or not. He looked around the little café, noticing that Meyers was speaking with Burns off at a table in the corner.
"Did you sleep well sir?" George asked, lifting his coffee cup to his lips for a sip.
"Uh… Yes," he answered, adding, "I slept on the floor George," hoping to quell any thoughts the man had had about his being involved with Ettie.
"Oh, I see," George replied, wrinkling a corner of his mouth – as William himself was prone to do, suggesting to William that George was admitting that he had been wondering about just that.
"You George?" William asked.
Rarely had William seen George blush. Thus, he rested his fork and listened intently.
George whispered, leaned close. William's eyes darted momentarily to Meyers over in the corner – the man was highly involved in his own conversation, and for a moment, William wondered what they were discussing, but he turned back to George. "I, uh, well sir… It is hard for me to say, really. Um, well sir, I… I had the company of… two lovely women last night…"
William's eyebrow shot up! "Two, George?" he repeated.
"Yes sir. It seems my escort prefers… There was a name for it…"
"A ménage a trois, George," William offered.
"Yes! That was it… sir," George responded.
"I see," William said, hoping desperately to change the subject. "Um, our friend Mr. Meyers is here," he said, eyeing Meyers and Burns' table in the corner, drawing George's eyes and attention that way.
"Who is that he's speaking with?" George asked.
"Edward Burns," William replied, getting a nod of recognition from George implying that he understood the significance of Canada's most powerful meat magnate being in the same room with them – and meeting with Meyers at that.
"Do you think Meyers has noticed us?" George asked, sounding alarmed.
Immediately the image of Meyers in Ettie's room with him last night flashed into William's mind as he replied, "Mm, possibly," and nodded his head. They made small talk, noticing that Ettie, who had been stopping by at each table, had approached Meyers and Burns and started up a conversation with them. George was going on and on about some idea for a book that had come to him, while William's mind wandered. In his imagination he sat next to Inspector Guillaume in a carriage and they were discussing William's taking Julia on as his mistress, while she would be married to Darcy. William reasoned it was George's brush with his own ménage a trois that had brought on this particular memory of his, for the Frenchman had had, not only a somewhat temporary mistress, but also his own wife, in the bedroom with him when William had arrived at the man's hotel room. The world just seemed so odd to William sometimes, that it would be commonly accepted, this idea of loving more than one person. It was what Ettie had expected of him. He still couldn't fathom it.
George pulled his attention, bringing up something about the case. "What George?" William asked, "My mind was off somewhere else."
"One of the women last night, sir," George lowered his voice, "She said she met a different man who had been hired by Davies, not Adomas sir, this guy was Irish, older…"
"And frequented prostitutes, George. Adomas wouldn't do that," William added.
"Right sir," George replied and went on, "She said this man told her, bragged about all the money he was going to make… told her he was going to be the one to destroy Davies' competition for him, get rid of Canada's "Cattle King," I believe that's a nickname they use for Burns sir," George added.
"That's very interesting George," William wondered aloud. "I had thought that it was Adomas who was hired…"
Ettie had made her way to their table now. "Mr. Codrum. Mr. Flowers. How are you finding everything?" she asked pleasantly.
"It is quite delicious," William replied.
George added, "Everything has been…" suddenly seeming to lose his voice, feeling exposed, he scratched out, "mam."
Ettie ducked her chin and broke into a knowing smile, sending William's brain into a personal whirlwind for the look reminded him strongly of an expression he so often saw Julia make, often at him. "I'm glad you are enjoying your stay, Mr. Flowers. Let me know if there is anything else I can do…"
"Join us," William interrupted. He wanted to pick Ettie's brain about what Burns was doing here with Meyers… And they still needed to make plans about going to see Ieva Baltavesky's landlady. "Please, just for a few moments… Maybe a cup of coffee?" William added, standing and pulling out a chair for her.
Ettie tactfully informed them that Meyers was here in Winnipeg solely to meet with Burns – she seemed to dig that point in, indicating that it was further evidence that William had been wrong about Meyers being in love with her. The two men had asked her to pre-arrange the meeting. She promised to get William a meeting with Burns this evening, him planning to pretend to be trying to sell his electric stun-gun as a means of more efficient slaughter. He had every hope of being invited to Burns' Winnipeg Meatpacking plant to look for witnesses that might have known Adomas Baltavesky, preferably around the time the man had been killed last August on a train full of refrigerated meat headed for Burns' Toronto facility.
George took the opportunity to ask Ettie some questions about his latest attempt at writing a book…
William ran his theories on the case through his head once again. He had believed Adomas had been killed while attempting his second act of sabotage – this one here in Canada, with Burns as the victim – having been hired by Davies through his manager Mulligan. It was while doing this that William had believed Adomas had been attacked and killed by an American spy, suspecting this because of the method of assassination – of pretending to be shaking hands and then instead stabbing the victim under the right armpit. However, now that Crabtree had discovered that it was not Adomas who had been hired to sabotage Burns' meat, but someone else, William was unsure what Adomas was doing on that train in the first place.
Either way, William figured that Adomas' killer had most likely worked for Clegg and was stopping what was believed to be any further sabotage being done against America's meat magnates, like Jonathan Armour, by killing the sabotager, Adomas Baltavesky. He figured Meyers fit in because Meyers wanted to cover-up the fact that a Canadian had sabotaged the American meat, killing all those innocent people, and thus Meyers was willing to look the other way about Clegg having had a Canadian killed, being that Adomas Baltavesky was a Canadian citizen. Another possibility was that Burns had had Adomas killed when he discovered he was sabotaging his meat. But now William suspected that that was not what Adomas was doing on the train, and how would Burns hire an assassin who had been trained to kill using an American spy method anyway! My God, this case made his head hurt!
The one thing he knew for sure was that Davies' manager, Mulligan, had killed Adomas Baltavesky's wife Ieva, probably because she showed up at his office looking for her husband, or maybe she even attempted blackmail, and Mulligan had had the now likely dead Mr. Kempsey move Ieva's body after he had killed her. That had all led to a dead end, once George had stolen the letter-opener from Mulligan's office and their blood evidence on the green carpet had not been convincing – Mulligan coming up with an alternative explanation for the blood on the rug, claiming it belonged to a man who had sliced off his finger, and once Kempsey had been sent down the butchering line on the meat-hook, much as had almost happened to William himself, and Jackson, there would be no one to claim otherwise. It was a complicated web of intrigue indeed, and it was certainly challenging putting all of the pieces together.
But now William had, in his pocket, the proof he needed, that Adomas Baltavesky had been working for Armour, as an icer, on the very train that ended up delivering the spoiled meat, the same meat that despite being warm enough to spoil had arrived at its destination chilled, the same meat that killed five people in Toronto, Buffalo, and New York City. What William needed, though, was something that linked Davies and/or Mulligan to hiring Adomas to commit the sabotage on Armour's meat. Hence, the need to get into Burns' establishment to find a witness of Adomas' next attempted sabotage, or even his murder. He also held out hope that they would find something at Ieva's old flat – there were still missing letters…
Suddenly, Ettie rose to leave, leaning over to William's ear as she stood. "Will, be careful. Terrence was told there has been a man outside watching the coffee house all night. His informant said the man arrived right after you got here," she whispered.
William gulped down his last sip of tea, saying, "George, I think we'd best check around outside. It seems we may have been followed after all."
)) ((
Searching outside, William found a spot behind an outhouse that had multiple shoeprints in the frozen mud, likely from last night when it was still warm enough to rain. He also found a vaguely familiar candy wrapper. He knew it was significant – "Necco Wafers…"
George approached from across the other street. He saw the look on the detective's face, recognized it immediately, Murdoch was running something through that big brain of his. He had found a clue! George himself was excited, for he had found something as well. He had collected a cigarette butt from behind some garbage cans in an onlooking alleyway. Clearly, someone had been there for many hours, and, as it had been very windy last night, the fact that so many cigarette butts had not blown away suggests that whomever it was, they had been there as recently as this morning.
In his mind William saw Julia, telling him about Rebecca James' reason for stealing the strange bright pink-colored stomach contents from the well-labeled bottle in her morgue, stomach contents from the murdered Minister Fergus, on the case that involved Pendrick's rocket, when a Canadian rocket was aimed at New York City, and when William flew! Julia's voice stated it so clearly in his head…
"They're Necco Wafers. Only sold in the Boston area," William said, staring down at the candy wrapper in his hand, extending it for George to see. "Alan Clegg," William declared.
"Oh my," George responded, both worried and impressed. "That is not good sir," he added, receiving an agreeing nod from the detective.
"It seems we have the American government on our tails, George… And we still don't know whether Jonathan Armour was found…" William needed to swallow back his fear, "dead or alive."
William glanced over at George's hand, noticing he had something in his handkerchief. "What have you George?" he asked.
George flipped his chin in the direction of the alleyway and answered, "Cigarette butts."
"Two men then," William thought aloud. "Do you think they were together?" William asked.
George thought for a moment and then said, "Sir, you said Meyers had an informant. Perhaps one of the men was…"
"No. Meyers' man was in that parked car over there all night," William said.
"My goodness, in that awful weather there were three different men out here surveilling… us!?" George marveled.
"Well, they aren't here now," William said. "We'll have to be on the lookout."
They headed back into the coffee house, planning to soon be accompanied by Ettie to Ieva Baltavesky's last known apartment. Once William got up to Ettie's room he discovered that his backsack had been stolen! Fortunately, he had thought to put the logbook page that he had ripped out of Armour's records in his pants pocket rather than leave it in the backsack. As he rushed to get George and head back outside to better search the area, he remembered that he had put Julia's photo in there! He absolutely adored that picture of her…
)) ((
In the alleyway, William and George searched through the garbage cans for the backsack or any other relevant evidence. William had moved deeper into the alleyway, and was squatted down near the ground inspecting some interesting shoeprints, trying to decide if they matched those he figured were Clegg's because they had been made in the spot with the Necco Wafer wrapper. Glancing up to check on George, William's heart leapt out of his chest and he bolted for George with all his might!
A man approached George, extending his hand for a handshake, and George was in the process of reaching out for the man's hand…
With acrobatics similar to those he had used to save the American president while on his honeymoon, William soared, horizontal to the ground, through the air, reaching for the assailant, screaming for George to STOP!
With a wild smack, William's body sailed into the killer's, seemingly before the thin knife-blade had been shoved into George's armpit. Before William could get the upper hand, the man had slithered away, quickly turning right, already out of sight.
"George!" William panicked, checking to see if he had been cut. "That was Adomas' killer!" he yelled.
George had his hand covering his side. When he pulled it away – there was blood! Both men frantically gaped at George's side. The wound did not seem to be very deep – thank God. "Not bad, sir," George said, nearly smiling with relief.
"That is the technique used to kill Adomas…" William explained, his heart pounding, rushing to take in enough air.
"Well, he failed this time, thanks to you," George said. "Go after him sir. I'll be alright," he urged.
William took up chase. Figuring the man would likely make the earliest possible turn to best escape pursuit, William charged into the next alleyway on the right… Quickly slamming on the brakes and ducking behind more garbage cans upon discovering that in that very alley, the killer was being held at gunpoint – by Clegg.
Clegg's slimy little voice smirked, "Graveson, admit it. You messed up. You always mess up. Kill too fast… Did when you worked for us… Do now working for Armour. Went and killed that icer before you found out who he was working for, you idiot – We're still paying for that mistake – Hell, it's why that blasted Murdoch is involved in the first place. And now I find you… You complete imbecile! I swear, if you kill them before I get that logbook page… I swear I'll… Jesus, Mr. Armour is still implicated in all this. Unbelievable! How could you be so stup…"
Bloody Hel… Suddenly Graveson's eyes met William's! Clegg turned to see…
Graveson charged past Clegg, barreling, knife-blade in front, dead on for Murdoch…
William turned and, he could never run fast enou…
BANG! The gunshot pierced the air!
"Freeze!" Clegg demanded, halting both William and Graveson in their tracks.
William turned back slowly, arms in the air, to see that Graveson, too, had his hands above his head.
Clegg lowered his voice, commanding but amazingly calmly he ordered, "Get the hell out of here Graveson. Let me handle this." Graveson backed away, past William, out into the street, instantly gone.
Clegg turned his gun on William.
His hands still in the air, his big, wide brown eyes on Clegg, William said, "Mr. Clegg… Thank…"
"Oh, don't thank me Murdoch," Clegg said smugly, "It's not for you, it's for my country. Now, give me the paper."
William paused, his brain going a mile a minute, "Had to be Clegg took the backsack – that's how he knows I have it on me…"
"I will shoot you Murdoch," Clegg warned, "Just not kill you. As a matter of fact…" Clegg lowered his gun, directing his aim downward, its barrel pointing directly at William's groin. So arrogantly he went on to explain, "I have a feeling, based on where it was I found your precious hobo-invention, your waterproof… back thing, right there next to Madam Ettie Weston's bed, where I'm quite sure you, Murdoch, had just spent the night. Yes, I am quite sure that the good Dr. Ogden might thank me for my choice of the bullet's spot." My God, the creepy little man even let out a wicked chuckle, so proud of his plan. "It's your choice Murdoch. I can shoot first, then take the paper, or you can give me what I want… and then we'll see…"
Raising an eyebrow at Clegg, William said, "Not much in it for me."
Clegg took exception. "I probably won't shoot you. And if you're quick enough, I might even let you go before that…" Clegg shook his head, for he still marveled at the ruthlessness of Graveson, "before that lunatic comes back for you. And mark me, he will. A one track mind that crazy sadistic brute."
William handed over the folded up logbook page from Armour's employment records – the only solid evidence he had in the case. Clegg held the gun on William's privates, and opened the page to verify that it was the real page from Armour's record book. William asked him to return Julia's picture. He told Clegg he had the wrong idea about him and Miss Weston. They had done nothing sordid as he was suggesting… And he loved Julia profusely. And he had hoped to keep that particular photo of her forever…
It was then that they heard footsteps running their way, then George's voice, "Sir! Sir!"
Clegg took off through the back of the alleyway as William called out, "Over here George," and watched as Clegg disappeared.
"Well George," William declared, "We now know the name of Adomas' killer. It's Graveson. And… we know he didn't kill Adomas for Clegg. No, he's the hired man of my very own cousin, Jonathan Ogden Armour."
"Sir, that's astounding," George said, unsure which of those points had surprised him so. Though, it was something to think that the detective was related to the man who had hired their victim's killer – and that the detective might have killed that very man – and that in doing so he might have killed his own relative – and that Detective William Murdoch had such a rich and powerful cousin – and, of course, he must really be Dr. Ogden's cousin – "and that that same assassin had just tried to kill ME!" Oh, that was it. This was all getting to be a bit too much.
))) (((
Inside the Lithuanian landlady's parlor, William, Ettie and George sat with the older woman drinking tea. She had denied any knowledge of any letters to Ieva Baltavesky from her husband, but William suspected there was more to it, and he was stubbornly holding to asking the woman questions pertinent to the aforementioned letters.
"So, Mrs. Mamantovas, you hold that Mrs. Baltavesky moved out with her son before the end of July, but this is the address where she received all of the letters we have found that she had with her in Toronto. Perhaps, a letter came after she had moved out?" William asked, curling up his face in doubt.
It was the woman's body language that bothered him. She was clearly feeling guilty. Yet, she denied it again.
Ettie tried, "Mrs. Mamantovas, we are certain there were letters after that…"
William rummaged through his brain, "Why would she feel guilty?" he asked himself, "If she never saw the letters – no guilt. Perhaps she threw them away, and now doesn't want to tell us that she did so – seeing as the letters are so important… Or… Oh, that's it!"
William leaned forward, excited but coaching himself to approach with calm. He interrupted, "It may be of interest to you, Mrs. Mamantovas, that as members of the Constabulary, we are interested in evidence involved with these crimes, but we have no interest in attempting to regain the payoff money. You see, the culprits responsible for the sabotage and the murders, well this would have been their money, not the Canadian government's money. We would not be…"
Everyone in the room saw the change in the woman's demeanor. That did it. She had the letters… And she had also taken the money out of them!
William went on, "True, it is likely that the letters of which we speak would mention that there had originally have been rather large sums of money within them, but that would in no way implicate that the person who now possesses those same letters ever received that same money, you understand." He nodded to her, encouraging her to trust him on this.
Mrs. Mamantovas took a deep breath and stood up, releasing an optimistic sigh from all. "There was only one letter," she said as she opened a desk drawer and pulled out an envelope.
William recognized it right away – it matched the others that Adomas had sent. His heart raced! Finally some good luck!
"Ieva owed back rent, you see," she said, handing it to William. She explained further, "I was going to throw it away… I didn't know where Ieva had moved. But I thought that she might come looking for it… And I would tell her I got it, but that it was unsealed and there wasn't any money in it when it got here."
William opened it, finding it was in Lithuanian, as he had expected. Mrs. Mamantovas translated. In his letter, Adomas told that Davies had provided the deal and the money for him to go to Chicago, to get a job with Armour and then to sabotage the refrigerated meat. The letter said that Mulligan was the one who had made the deal with Adomas, but that Davies was in on it because he provided the money, and he was present when Adomas collected the payoff after the deed was done. It named the dates and the trains and the method used to spoil the meat.
It also said that Mulligan had tried to hire Adomas to sabotage Burns' meat in the same way afterwards. It turns out that Adomas wanted to decline – his conscious had been tortured by the deaths of the innocent people who had eaten the meat he had sabotaged. According to his letter, Adomas was smart about this though, and he knew that if he declined Mulligan's offer to pursue more sabotage, his life would be in danger. So, Adomas agreed to commit the next round of sabotage against Burns. He wrote to his wife, however, that he had no intention of actually ever committing the act of sabotage against Burns. He went through the motions, hoping to put them at ease. He got a job at Burns' facility here in Winnipeg, but he never sabotaged anything, that seemed certain.
"Perhaps Davies and Mulligan figured out he wasn't planning to do it?" Ettie asked.
George suggested, "Or perhaps Adomas threatened to tell… To go to the press or something… Maybe he tried to blackmail them and that's why he got killed!?"
William nodded, but he reminded himself that they knew had killed Adomas - Graveson. But that didn't mean that there were not others who wanted to kill him as well. "We will need more," he said, standing, collecting the letter and thanking Mrs. Mamantovas for her help.
Once they were outside, William leaned close to George and said, "Remember, there was someone else hired to commit the sabotage against Burns. Davies and Mulligan knew, somehow, that Adomas was not going to do it – why else would they hire someone else."
"Yes, of course sir!" George exclaimed.
"And we already know Graveson killed Adomas," William added.
Instinctively, George reached over and covered his injured side. He definitely remembered – the thought sending a chill down his spine.
George spotted a wrapper in the bushes – a Necco Wafer wrapper. Clegg had been there too!
William's heart rushed. They were in danger, even more so now. "George, do you think the woman who told you about the other icer – could she help us find him?" he asked, whispering, but figuring keeping Ettie out of this now was hopeless. He had to admit, he was concerned she would tell Meyers.
William decided to ask Ettie if she had heard anything about Jonathan Armour's health. Ettie replied, "Mr. Codrum, it seems you would know better than me," she said coyly. She leaned close and whispered, "That is why all this spy intrigue, no?" she asked. "Yes. It is known by many that a Canadian, they think he's a spy, going under the name of Codrum…"
William couldn't stand it one more second, "Did they say if Armour had been killed?" he asked desperately.
Realizing how seriously William had been worrying about this, she took pity on him. "No William. Armour is fine. A few stitches – didn't even have to stay in the hospital. It's alright," she reassured him. "You didn't kill your fellow toff cousin," she said, digging a little barb in despite her compassion for him.
Arriving back at the Coffee House, George observed, "Sir, Don't you find it surprising that a spy as successful as Alan Clegg would have such a bad habit as leaving such an obvious clue behind wherever he goes? Do you think he wants us to know he's watching us?"
"No George, I think it's like a good gambler who doesn't know he has a "tell," and I think it's to our advantage to keep it that way, hmm?" William said, his eyes insisting George keep it to himself.
George and William sat on a step in a stairwell to the roof, hoping to be outside of anyone's range of listening in on them. They whispered back and forth, working on how to proceed. William figured they now had enough proof to convict Davies for sponsoring the sabotage of Armour's meat industry, and Mulligan for planning it, and as a result of their doing so, these two men would likely be held responsible for the deaths of those five innocent people who had eaten the bad meat. George was arguing for racing back to Toronto as quickly as possible with that proof, claiming that many of the loose ends on the case were now neatly tied up – they had Davies, and Mulligan too, for planning the sabotage, they knew who had killed Adomas Baltavesky – Graveson, a former American spy who now was Jonathan Armour's hired killer, and they knew who had killed Ieva Baltavesky – Mulligan, and they knew, unfortunately, that they couldn't prove it.
"But we don't know why Adomas was on that train," William urged. And… this next argument for staying longer was personal, leading William to feel reluctant about bringing it up. "George, I don't expect you to understand this, but… I feel strongly about at least trying to get Burns to consider using my electric capacitor…" William looked at George, unsure he would know where he was going, "I want to try to stop the inhumane killing of the pigs and the cattle, George. I know it's not… police business…" William swallowed and held tightly to George's eyes.
"I understand sir. It is a good invention, and it would make a difference," George agreed. "But they'll be expecting us to stay, Graveson and Clegg, and now even Meyers too. We're like sitting ducks here, sir," George argued, feeling he owed it to the good doctor to be the voice of reason.
"So, we'll leave sooner than planned – after I meet with Burns, but we won't wait for my meeting with him at his establishment tomorrow morning. I'll give him the design for the electric stun-gun at this meeting tonight. There is a train of refrigerated meat that heads out of Burns' facility in the middle of the night – two AM. It's the one Adomas took, the night he got killed…" William wrinkled his face and said, "Two birds with one stone?"
And so it was agreed. William and George would sneak out of Ettie's Coffee House in the dark of night, headed for Burns' meatpacking facility here in Winnipeg. They would steal away on the train, on their way home to Toronto, the evidence they needed to convict Davies and Mulligan of sponsoring and planning the sabotage of Armour's meatpacking industry, and subsequently killing five innocent people, in their possession. If all went as planned, they would be home by sunrise on Monday morning. Soon, they would be out of Winnipeg.