The Dolocher (12 page)

As dark fell that Saturday evening, Mr Edwards left the clubhouse on Francis street in ebullient spirits, finishing one last glass of wine in one drain before dashing it against the building directly opposite and laughing as a few women standing nearby were frightened by it and scurried away in terror.

He had received a message from James to meet him at the ‘Black Dog’ at dusk, but he was in no mood for the Alderman’s worrying all night and so he sent a boy to tell the Alderman that he would catch up with him later in the evening as he had a few important matters to attend to.

After walking the streets to take in the atmosphere for a while, he started to walk towards Temple Bar. He saw the people as he went, rushing from their work to home and those who were alone as he passed looked at him and anyone else who passed them with suspicion and fear. It was this whole fearful atmosphere that had Dublin so electric at the moment and Edwards loved it. He imagined all these people of the lower classes rushing home and making love in case one of them was dead the next day, bottles of alcohol being drunk now in case there is no future to drink them in.

He stopped into a tavern on his way and met a few men he knew from his days in Trinity College, and they spoke at length about the state of the parliament and the new taxes being raised. These men would have, of course, been familiar with the news of the murders that had taken place but they would have no inclination to talk about it as it seemed only to concern the lower classes and those type of people never merited much conversation with people like these. How funny it would be, Edwards thought, if one of them was the victim tonight; that would certainly put the cat amongst the pigeons.

When he left them he went to a gambling house on Crown Alley where he lost what would be a month’s wages to a busy trader, in about twenty five minutes. He mingled with the crowd and watched others lose and some win, and he had a few drinks while he was there.

After this he left and went to the brothel in the hopes of finding Kate working. He enquired to Melanie, but he was disappointed when his favourite girl was not there. When Melanie tried to placate him by saying she would send out someone to find her, he replied that he could do that himself and urged that Kate be here more often. He went to bed with Melanie then as he knew she would have to make it up to him to keep his custom. He knew she was well retired, but tonight he felt like punishing her for not having what he wanted. That happened at far too many places these days, he thought as he left her without paying, feeling the spite of her venomous eyes on the back of his head.

He finally met Alderman James at ten o’ clock. The latter was skulking around on Fishamble Street, and Edwards came upon him as quietly as he could and then spoke in a loud voice,

“Anything to report so far?” and laughed at James reaction.

“Not yet,” James replied looking at him with annoyance.

“How many men?” Edwards asked

“Twenty over the normal patrol,”

“Twenty, that’s quite a lot!” Edwards exclaimed

“They are not in uniform, I have them on certain streets and I am walking the others.”

“Lying in wait as it were?”

“Yes.”

“Just like he does?”

“He does not lie in wait Mr Edwards; he follows and then attacks when he sees his chance.”

“Or so we think.”

“What are you getting at?”

“Nothing, but all we know is that he attacked Mary Sommers from behind.”

“Plus the versions of the attacks on the guards at Newgate.”

“I suppose,” Edwards said and he let his tone convey that this conversation was becoming tiring to him.

They walked in no fixed pattern the streets and alleys between the Coombe and the Liffey and from Hell to the Four Courts area. From time
to time,
they would see people coming and going, and James would ask them who they were and where they were going. Though most people would lie about what they were doing or where they were going to the Alderman, for fear of what he might say or do to them, none of them seemed suspicious to either James or Edwards.

Midnight came with no event, and Edwards regretted not staying in the gambling house and the tavern longer. These streets were now almost deserted, and there was none of the fun and the excitement of Temple Bar. He hoped that he was not missing anything good at the clubhouse either. He stopped and looked at James, who also stopped.

“I’m very tired Alderman, I think I will retire.”

“Fine go, you are no use to me at the moment anyway. Perhaps if you had not spent so much time at your previous errands you might have been better.” The Alderman was angry at his drunkenness on a night such as this and Edwards laughed at his simplicity.

“If something happens let me know, but I don’t think our man is the type to write letters advertising what he is going to do Alderman. Goodnight,” and with that, Edwards spun on his feet and walked away chuckling to himself at the stern, serious face of the Alderman. How he has let this into his soul he thought as began to walk away in the direction back to the club house.

The scream had come from close by and James and Edwards looked at one another.

“Circle the block!” the Alderman cried and he ran one way around the building and Edwards the other. As James rounded a second corner, he saw something hunched over in the street, and he shouted

“You, stop!” and he ran towards it. Whatever it was, it didn’t look at him but instead set off in the opposite direction.

James bounded after it, glancing at the stricken woman on the ground as he passed. She was alive but badly mauled, but he couldn’t stop to aid her if he wanted to catch this monster and stop this from happening to anyone else.

“Woman attacked in the lane by coffee house Edwards,” he shouted out “I’m chasing the attacker!”

Up ahead he saw the black shape moving between shadows as it kept close to the wall as it ran. Its movements were strange, but he didn’t get to study them as he chased with the constant changing of the light. It passed by a lantern and for an instant the large back was lit up and he could see that it was covered in dark hair or fur. It was an animal!

It rounded a corner and only then did the Alderman get a sense that it might have looked at him, and he saw a quick side profile and saw the massive jaws and teeth for a moment. As he rounded the corner, James couldn’t see it anymore but he kept on running, knowing now that if he stopped he wouldn’t be able to start again. His own clattering footsteps echoed in his ears and then he heard something else from above, he looked up and saw something try to evade his glance on top of the building next to him.

James, without stopping reeled towards the building and jumped up and used the frame of a door to bound himself up towards a window and ledge and then he slipped and held on with his fingers. He got a better grip, and he pulled himself up before adjusting on the sill and pulling himself up onto the roof.

When he finally dragged his body up and over the edge he kneeled up and looked around and saw in the distance of a building or two away the creature drop back down to street level and out of sight. James was panting heavily, and he couldn't get up from his knees which were bleeding now from the climb up here.

“The Dolocher is on Meath Street!” he called out, desperately hoping that someone on that same street would hear his cry and apprehend the monster. No reply came back, and it was quiet save for the Alderman’s laboured breaths.

When he got back to where the attack had happened he saw that the woman was on the ground and Edwards had covered her with his coat, all the way up over her face. James looked at him in surprise.

“Literally this minute,” Edwards said sadly, “I sent a boy for the doctor, but he hasn’t arrived yet.” James bent down and lifted the coat to look at the woman. Her throat was gashed severely several times, but there were not at first glance many more marks on her body. The thought crossed his mind that of all the other victims there had been, perhaps they were actually already dead when the worst of their wounds was inflicted-that was if it always went for the throat first, and the idea was on small comfort to him that somehow all the suffering might have been lessened a little.

“You saw it then?” Edwards asked. James nodded. “Man?”

“I couldn’t be sure what it was. It was so dark, and it kept to the shadows, it seemed to know how to use the light at every turn.”

“Did you call out about Meath Street?”

“Yes that was me. He went up on a roof, and I couldn’t follow fast enough. When I got up there I saw it drop into Meath Street, but there was no way I was going to catch up by then.”

“Your hands are bleeding Alderman,” Edwards said, “And your legs, did it injure you?”

“No, I never got near it.”

He looked down at his knees and saw the blood coming through the coarse brown wool of his britches and running into his cream stockings. His left knee was still bleeding, but the right had stopped and a dark splotch sat around a hole at his knee. He looked at his hands, and they were cut badly, he was pumping blood like a bare fist brawler, and he could feel his heartbeat in his knuckles as he closed his hand. As he looked at them, he noticed he was trembling, and he looked at Edwards, who was holding out a small bottle for him,

“Just the effect of the chase and the excitement on the system Alderman.”

He took the bottle and took a swill, and he felt the brandy burn as he did. It was strong stuff. The doctor arrived then, and the two men looked at him and shook their heads. He bent to the woman and looked under the cloak.

“Terrible, terrible,” was all he said, and he stood back up. Both James and Edwards could see that he wanted to ask what had happened, and the answer would not be ‘The Dolocher’ but he was sensible enough not to ask and have himself disappointed.

The soldiers arrived on the scene, and James ordered them search the streets in increasing circles from Meath Street, but he was not hopeful that they would find anything. The chance to catch the killer had come and gone in moments, and James felt that he would never see that dark shadow shifting creature ever again, and he would feel the regret of letting Dublin down forever more, especially when the next killing took place.

“I need to get fitter if I’m going to ever be able to catch that thing,” he said finally to Edwards when they were alone again.

“Keep this up every night, and you will get fitter Alderman,” he smiled back.

“I’m growing tired of this cycle Edwards. I walk the street; I have soldiers walk the streets and every time we miss the attack.”

“But not tonight.”

“The woman is still dead, and we don’t have him in custody.”

“It was close though and next time we will get him.”

“I don’t want there to be a next time,” James said with a terrible sad tiredness. Edwards didn’t say anything for a few moments but then he looked at the Alderman seriously.

“If there is no next time we will never catch him.”

The fire crackled and filled the room with brownish peat smoke and the smell of the country. Small bits of wood that had dried in the fireplace were added to the bundle and caused the brighter flames that flickered pleasantly. Mullins looked at it and was lost in the dance. It had been a hard day’s work, and he was exhausted; too tired even to think about washing. All he wanted to do was sit and be warm and look at the fire until he felt the pull of sleep. This came quicker than expected, and he only noticed that he was about to nod off when he heard screaming.

At first he wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, and then he wondered for another second where it was coming from, was it in the row of buildings or outside in the street. He went to the door and opened it and found he wasn’t the only one who had done this, most of the doors held a curious frightened face, and they looked to him when he came out.

“Someone’s being killed!” one of the women across from him shouted at him “Do something!”

Mullins ran in the direction of the screaming, but it stopped before he got to the laneway it was coming from. As he rounded the corner into it he saw someone was lying on the ground, and as he got closer he saw the blood and the torn clothes that had become so common in this city at night. He leaned down over her, and he saw that it was a girl he knew to see, who lived on his street; she worked in the tavern on Francis Street. It was a horrible thing to see and like nothing he had ever even imagined before. He had to look away as he took her small soft hand and began to say a prayer for her.

“Get away from her!” a voice snapped at him and Mullins looked up to see three soldiers at the end of the alley. He stood up, blessing himself.

“She’s dead,” was all he could think of to say.

“Get back away from her, killer!” the same soldier answered.

“Killer?” Mullins said, “I didn’t do this!”

“Save it for the magistrate!” the lead soldier said and they approached him with their weapons drawn. Mullins could see that they were careful in approaching him, and he assumed it was because of his size and they were afraid he would do to them what they thought he had done to this girl.

“Show your weapon and throw it on the ground!” the soldier barked.

“I don’t have a weapon; I didn’t do this!”

More soldiers arrived at the other end of the laneway, and they too approached with caution. Mullins saw fear in these men too, and he looked at his own hands and saw he had his fists clenched as though waiting for a fight. He let them fall flat by his sides and he leaned back against the wall to soften his stance altogether and then they surged forward as though seeing an opportunity, and they wrestled him to the ground and shackled him. He didn’t fight them; he knew this would make things worse. It was hard though, as he felt their rough hands on him, and they spared no concern for him as they kicked and beat him as though he were, in fact, resisting them.

As he was led away he could see the eyes of his neighbours watching him from their doors and windows and the eyes were hostile in this dark and he knew they all thought he had done this horrible deed. He wasn’t brought down his own street where the people would have seen him leave after the screaming and could tell the soldiers that he was innocent, that he had been urged by them to try and save the woman.

He wanted to say that the real killer was getting away, had slipped through their fingers while they were blaming him, but he knew there was no point. These soldiers didn’t care who was innocent or guilty; they brought you to the magistrate and let him decide.

He looked up at the moon and he thought about how close he had come to seeing the Dolocher and he wondered what he might have been able to do if had come across it in the action of killing that poor girl. Would he be able to overpower it or would he simply have been killed like everyone else who had ever seen it; everyone except Mary Sommers anyway.

A man he didn’t know caught his eye, and he looked at him. He was a gentleman, and he nodded at Mullins as he was brought by with an odd half smile on his face. There was something off about him, something that made Mullins want to look at him some more and when he turned he could see that the man was still looking at him, and he met his gaze and didn’t let it drop until Mullins was bundled around a corner by the soldiers.

He was halfway down Cook Street, passing his favourite cabin when he realised that they were taking him to the ‘Black Dog.’ At the gates, they knocked loudly, and a guard appeared at the hatch and asked what they wanted.

“Open the fuckin door!” the lead soldier ordered.

“Wait here,” the guard said and he closed the hatch. For a minute there was nothing, and then they could hear the voice of a man who was complaining about something. The hatch opened again, and another man peered out at the soldiers and then at Mullins.

“What is it?” he asked

“Open the gate Brick, this is a guest for you for tonight” The gaoler looked at Mullins again.

“You’re the blacksmith from just over there,” he said, “What did you do?”

“Nothing,” Mullins said

“Shut up prisoner!” the soldier said and he slapped him across the face.

“Why do you keep dumping people in here, why don’t you bring him to the proper prison?” Brick whinged.

“Just open the fuckin gate and stop moaning.”

The hatch closed and they could hear Brick muttering something about lazy soldiers and then they heard the locks open and the gate began to creak open to admit them. The soldiers pushed Mullins inside as soon as there was gap enough and four of the six came in with him; the leader telling the other two to patrol the perimeter of the prison, and then the gate was shut.

“Bring us up to the tower,” the soldier said and Brick waved at the stairs and nodded for the guard to bring them up.

The steps were hard to take in the way that he was shackled, but Mullins could feel how cool and smooth they were under his worn soft soled shoes. When they finally got to the top they pushed him into the room, and the soldiers searched him once more as they had when they first subdued him.

“No copycattin’ your hero,” the soldier said, but Mullins didn’t know what he was talking about, and he didn’t ask.

The door was clanked shut and locked, but two of the soldiers stayed in the cell with him and then two more stood at the bars outside. He thought this was quite odd too, but he didn’t say anything, trying not to cause any problems for himself. He looked about the cell, and it was not as he had imagined at all. It was cleaner for one thing. The floors were flat worn stone, and no rats scuttled from corner to corner as damp patches gathered from unknown water sources. The hay on the bunk was not fresh but nor was it rancid and reeking of urine. He heard the soldier telling the guard to send for the Alderman, and he went back down the stairs.

Mullins had seen the Alderman before, and he felt that he was an honourable man, and he would be able to tell his truth to him and have this whole affair cleared up in no time. In the meantime all he was able to do was to rue how slow he had been and wonder if he could have saved that girl if he had not been so tired and falling asleep when the first screams came to his ears. He saw the scars of Mary Sommers and thought about how she had survived this beast.