Except the Dying (14 page)

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Authors: Maureen Jennings

Tags: #Mystery, #Historical

BOOK: Except the Dying
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Samuel Quinn, with Princess at his heels, pushed open the big door of the taproom, and the din and the smoke rushed out together. At the far end a hunchback was thumping out popular music-hall songs on the battered, out-of-tune piano, and a group of men and women, arms linked, stood around him, bellowing out the words.

“And lo it was her father,
Rum ti-iddle ey oh,
And lo it was her father…”

One of the women was Bernadette Weston. She was singing at top voice, head thrust back, mouth wide open. The brim of her hat had tilted under such strenuous efforts and settled at an angle across her right eyebrow, and a scrawny green feather bobbed and danced in time to the music. She noticed Quinn and winked at him but didn’t break rhythm for a moment.

He waved, then, tugging at the piece of twine attached to his dog’s collar, dived into the crowd, heading for one of the long plank tables by the far wall where he could see Alice was sitting. Princess tried to lap at some sticky mess on the floor but he pulled her away. Cuspidors were provided but few used them, and the freshly strewn sawdust was churned into clumps by the mixture of tobacco juice, melting snow and phlegm.

“Heads up!”

A sweating waiter in shirtsleeves, his leather apron stained and wet from splashes, squeezed by Quinn, his laden tray held high. The beer that was brewed at the John O’Neil tended to be sour and weak but it didn’t seem to matter. The customers came for the company, not the brew.

“Comin’ through. ’Cuse me.” Quinn used his elbows for emphasis and the bodies reluctantly yielded. He was known here, and a couple of the men slapped him on the shoulder. There were only a few women and one of them, jammed in the side bench, smiled and beckoned, but he moved on. His eyes were already smarting from the thick pall of smoke from innumerable pipes and cheap cigars.

Alice hadn’t seen him yet; she was intent on her companion, a man Quinn didn’t recognize. He was burly, clean-shaven with his hair cropped very short. There was a flattened appearance to his face that made Samuel think of prizefighters.

He slid in beside Alice on the bench, wrapped the twine around the leg of the table and pushed Princess underneath. She sniffed with interest at the other man’s boots.

“Oi, look what the cat dragged in,” said Alice. “Where’ve you been keepin’ yourself?”

“Busy working. Not like some as I know of.” He gave her a friendly poke in the ribs and she squealed. Her sense of humour was already enhanced by hot gin.

“You’re forgetting your manners, Alice. Aren’t you going to introduce me?”

“This here’s Jack,” she said, indicating the man beside her. “He’s just passing through. His name’s Jack and he’s a Jack Tar.”

“How’d you do,” said Samuel. He called to the beleaguered waiter. “What’ll you have?” he asked the other two. “It’s on me.”

“Oi, come into money, have you? Lucky for you. How’d that happen?”

“Never mind. Do you want a drink or not?”

“Another hot jackey’d go down nice,” she said.

The man nodded. “Same. Thanks.” His voice was husky and strained as if he had laryngitis.

Samuel gave the order to the waiter, taking a pint of beer for himself. He took a folded newspaper out of his pocket and put it on the table.

“Look at this, Alice. It’s concerning that young girl the police were asking us about yesterday –”

“I don’t want to hear one more word about that sodding mort. You’d think she was the Queen’s daughter, all the fuss that’s being made.”

“What’s the story? I don’t know nothing about it,” her companion said.

Alice sniffed. “You don’t want to. Bloody coppers, they’re always on at a girl. Ettie and me wasted all yesterday afternoon at the shicey station just because they thought we’d nimmed the girl’s clothes.”

She stayed her indignation while the waiter banged down two glasses of gin, a pitcher of hot water and a pint of ale. Then she added a couple of splashes of water to the gin and took a deep gulp. “As if we’d do anything like that. What do they take us for? Couldn’t prove nothing, we was asleep –”

“If you’ll rein in a minute, Alice, I’ll tell you what it says in here,” said Quinn. “They’re offering a reward for information.”

He sipped at his beer, wiped the foam from his moustache and prepared to read. At that moment an arm reached over his shoulder.

“Give us a swallow, will you, Sam. I’m fair parched.”

Bernadette didn’t wait for his answer but seized the glass and drank some beer.

“He’s buying tonight, Ettie,” said Alice. “Why don’t you order one?”

“Won’t say no.”

Good-naturedly, Quinn flagged down the waiter again
and a foaming mug of beer splashed on the table.

“Ettie, sit down and listen to this,” said Alice. “There’s somethin’ else in the paper about that dead girl.”

Bernadette glanced quickly at Alice and pulled out the chair. She removed her hat and fanned at her hot face.

“Hard work, all that singing.” Princess popped her head up from under the table and pawed at Bernadette’s knee. “Hey, lookit who’s here.” She rubbed the dog’s ears affectionately. Then she reached down and offered her mug of beer. The hound lapped at the drink thirstily. Quinn watched.

“That’s enough now. Don’t want to get her soused.”

“First time I’ve ever seen a dog drink brew,” said Jack.

Bernadette took back the glass and finished off the beer. “Ain’t seen much, then, have you?”

“Ettie, don’t be cheeky. Jack here is a well-travelled man.”

“That so? Like where? Where have you been?”

He smiled, a smile that didn’t come close to touching his eyes. “Britain, France, China twice. You name it.”

“What are you, a sailor?”

“That’s right, a saucer and plate.”

“What?”

“First mate.”

“He’s speaking rhyming slang,” said Alice. “The cockneys do it in London.”

“Sounds like barmy talk to me.”

“Ettie,” protested Alice. “Jack’s a stranger here. You’re not being very neighbourly.”

“Do you want to see my how-d’you-do?” the sailor asked.

“No.”

“I mean my tattoo.”

“Yeah. Come on, Jack, let’s see,” said Alice.

He pulled off his right glove and pushed up his sleeve.

“Lord love us, look at that,” gasped Alice.

A red snake curled around his forearm and wrist. The mouth was open and the fangs, which ran along the edge of his thumb and forefinger, were gripping a woman, stark naked and bleeding. He spread his fingers and the woman’s legs opened.

“Cheeky,” said Alice.

“What d’you think?” the sailor asked.

Ettie shrugged. “Not much. I’ve seen better.” She turned to Quinn and indicated the little white ribbon that was pinned to her velvet jacket. “How do you like me bow, Sam?”

He grinned. “Don’t tell me you’ve joined the Temperance League?”

“That’s it. I’m taking the Pledge next week. They stand you to a swell tea, cakes and sandwiches, all you can eat. I’ve been practising.”

She pouted like a little girl, putting her finger to her
mouth. “I pledge that lips that touch liquor will never touch my … lips.”

The sailor grinned. “You make me want to be an abstainer this minute.”

Quinn rattled the newspaper. “Do you want to hear this news or not?”

Jack smiled again. “Let’s get another round of blinks first, on me.”

Ettie shook her head. “I’m going back to sing in a minute. Sam, get on with it, for Christ’s sake.”

Quinn swallowed the rest of his beer so he could take advantage of the stranger’s offer. He was glad Ettie was being surly with the man. He was too cool a customer by far. But she was like that. Formed strong likes and dislikes right away. God help the man she took a scunner to. She could freeze hell over with one look when she wanted to.

He picked up the paper and read aloud.

Information sought: The investigation continues into the death of Therese Laporte, the lovely young woman who died so tragically last Saturday night. Anyone who saw this young woman on Saturday night between the hours of five o’clock and midnight is asked to report to Detective Murdoch at number-four station immediately. She was known to be wearing –

“Bloody hell, Sam, don’t go on with that. We’ve heard it already, haven’t we, Ettie? Get to the bit about the reward.”

In the public interest, the owner of the
Signal
is offering a reward of fifty dollars for any honest information that our officers will deem useful in clearing up the mysteries of this tragic episode.

“Fifty dollars!” exclaimed Alice.

Ettie frowned. “nothin’ for us. We didn’t see her. Too bad.”

Quinn continued.

We must ensure that our streets remain safe for our loved ones and for those who cannot fend for themselves. If we do not eliminate the riffraff that are pouring into our city on a daily basis, we are condemning the fairer sex to a life of perpetual fear.

“What’s it mean?” asked Alice in bewilderment. “Who’s the riffraff? Do they mean lumberjacks?”

The sailor shook his head. “Haven’t you heard of those immigrants coming in from Moldavia?”

Alice laughed. “Where in God’s name is that? Oh, never mind. I doubt if I’ll be going there in the near future. My carriage has got a wheel missing.” She pursed
her lips again. “Read that bit once more, Sam. About the reward. Fifty dollars …”

Bernadette caught her friend’s sleeve. “Alice! Why don’t you come and sing with me.”

Alice pulled away. “I don’t want to, Ettie. Jack and me was having a good chin. Weren’t we, Jack?”

She leaned toward him so that her breast was brushing against his arm.

“Why’re you so interested in that money? Do you have some information about the girl?” he asked.

“No, she doesn’t,” said Ettie. “She’s just dreaming, aren’t you, Alice?”

“No, I –”

“You heard me.”

Alice stared sullenly at her friend. “Yeah. I don’t know anything. Never have,” she muttered.

Bernadette stood up abruptly. “That’s my song he’s playing. Sam, thanks for the beer. See you, Captain. ’Bye, lovey.”

This was addressed to the bitch under the table. Ettie gave her an affectionate caress and returned to the piano, where the hunchback was beginning a plaintive series of chords. Resignedly, Quinn folded up the paper and sat back in his chair to watch.

Alice pressed harder on the stranger’s arm. “Don’t mind her. She’s moody.”

The piano player thumped out a chord to get attention. The noise in the bar lessened slightly and Ettie
began to sing. Her voice was clear and true as water.

“I stand in a land of roses
But I dream of a land of snow …”

The room quieted even more.

“When you and I were happy
In the days of long ago.”

Alice Black leaned forward, beckoned to her companion as if to whisper and slyly licked the inside of his ear.

He laughed. “Hey, that tickled.”

“I’m good at tickling, I am. Here, I’ll show ya.”

She did so, more slowly this time. He didn’t move away. “Did you like that?” she asked.

“Yep. That was real nice, Elaine.”

“Alice. Not Elaine. My name’s Alice.”

He reached over and touched the bead necklace she had around her neck. “That’s pretty. Most unusual. Where’d you get it?”

She caught hold of his bare hand and put one of his fingers in her mouth. “Who cares?”

She thrust her tongue in between his fingers and he grinned again.

“Tell you what, Miss Alice, why don’t you take me somewhere private. Where you can tickle away to your heart’s content.”

She grinned. “Two dollars?”

“You’re dear.”

“I’m worth it, you’ll see. Where d’you want to go, upstairs or to our place?”

“I’ve a better idea. You can come to my dodgy figs. Very private. I’ve got a couple of good bottles tucked away just dying to be opened. Got them in Turkey.”

“You’re on. I’ve never had Turkish brew before.”

“You’ll love it. Come on, pick up your faggot sacks and let’s go.”

She gulped back the dregs of the gin and they both stood up. Quinn was watching Bernadette and didn’t pay any attention. Alice started to lead the way to the door, shoving at the hot bodies that crowded the floor.

“Coming through. Move your carcass, you lumps.”

However, as they approached the piano, Ettie was finishing her song. The piano player tinkled the treble keys. A burst of applause came from those who had free hands. Ettie, flushed and excited, bowed lavishly. The hunchback launched into another song and a burly man whose sooty clothes betrayed his calling started to sing an old ballad.

“Where have you been today, Randall my son?
Where have you been today, my beloved son?”

Ettie was about to join in when she saw Alice. She stepped back.

“Where you going?” she asked, grabbing her hard by the arm.

Alice tried to shrug her off but couldn’t. “With him.” Alice jerked her head in Jack’s direction. He was watching them with his flat cold eyes, but the waiter had stopped to serve one of the tables and he was separated from the two women.

“I don’t like him,” hissed Ettie.

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re not the one going with him, then.”

“Alice, don’t go. I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him.”

“Ha. Since when are you so choosy? If we only went with cullies we liked the look of, we wouldn’t do nothing.”

“What will you leave your mother, Randall my son?
What will you leave your mother, my beloved son?”

The chimney sweep was warbling in a lovely countertenor. All around the room men were laughing, ignoring him.

Ettie scowled. “He’s a liar. He’s no sailor, his hands are too soft. I had a sailor once. His hands were all rutted and hard. He said it was from the ropes.”

“What is he, then?”

“Probably a nark.”

Alice looked over at Jack, still blocked by the waiter,
who was having a dispute with one of the patrons about his bill.

“No! He can’t be.”

“Yes, he could. You’ve been babbling all over him about that girl. We’re going to end up in the Mercer if you don’t shut up … And I told you not to wear that necklace. Not yet. We’ve got to be careful.”

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