Vices of My Blood (12 page)

Chapter Twenty

T
ELLING
C
RABTREE TO FOLLOW
on as soon as he could, Murdoch went straight back to the police station. He parked his wheel outside and walked into the front hall. Sergeant Gardiner was sitting at his high stool behind the desk.

“Don’t bother taking off your coat. Miss Dignam rang through. She wants to talk to you as soon as possible. In person, not on the telephone.”

Two young women whose provocative dress proclaimed a dubious occupation were sitting together on the public bench that ran around the room. They made ostentatious giggling noises.

“Cut that out, you two,” bellowed the sergeant and they stopped abruptly. They couldn’t afford to alienate him.

Murdoch approached Gardiner. “Did she say anything else?”

“No, just that it was urgent. It was about half an hour ago.”

“Has Fyfer reported in?”

“Not yet. What was the verdict?”

“What you’d expect, homicide by person or persons unknown.”

“Well, I’m warning you. Don’t leave me alone with the culprit when you do find him.” The sergeant’s normally affable face was contorted with anger. “How dare that scum take down a man of the church.”

Murdoch started to leave, then he paused. “By the way, what is your opinion of Miss Dignam?”

“She’s a very well-bred lady. She’s always had a greeting for me and my wife, whereas there are some whose faces would crack if they smiled a good morning to the likes of us.”

“Do you think she is prone to hysteria?”

“Not that I know of. But I’ve only seen her on Sundays, mind you. She’s never married and has no chance of a dowry as I’ve heard tell, so I’d say she’s probably lonely, but sensible with it.”

“And Angus Drummond? What’s your view of him?”

“Salt of the earth.” The sergeant gave a wry grin. “A bit too salty for some tastes, but then you can’t please everybody, can you?”

“Mrs. Howard refused to admit him when he came to offer his condolences.”

Gardiner sighed. “I can understand that. Angus hasn’t minced words when he’s had something to say about the pastor. But that’s just his way. He’s a good man who’s devoted to the church.”

“Thanks, sergeant. I’d better get going.”

Murdoch headed for the door. The two women watched him go and the older one in the scarlet hat managed to whisper, “’ave a nice time.”

In the fading daylight, Murdoch could see that the Dignam house, while large and elegant, was not in a good state of repair, something he hadn’t noticed previously. The paint on the door and windows was peeling and the garden was overgrown and neglected.

Unexpectedly, it was Miss Dignam herself who answered his ring.

“Thank you for responding so quickly, Mr. Murdoch. Please come in.”

He stepped inside and she waited while he took off his hat and coat. She accepted them from him as if she were a maid and put them on the hall stand.

“This way, if you please.”

She led the way, holding aloft a single candle. Her black gown seemed to him to be excessively tight at the waist and the skirt was pulled back into a no longer fashionable bustle. There was a definite whiff of camphor coming from her. She had taken out a dress from a previous mourning period and she even had a weeping veil pinned to her hair. She opened the door to the drawing room and they went in.

“I must thank you again for your kindness at my, er, my indisposition.” She gave him a faint smile. “You remind me of Charles. Even though you are a police detective, I observe that you have the same air about you. ‘His eyes were the eyes of doves.’”

Murdoch knew by now what she was referring to and he acknowledged the compliment with a slight nod of his head. He had been compared to various things before but never to Solomon.

“I know the verdict of the inquest,” she continued. “Miss Flowers and my brother together with our servant are presently in the kitchen discussing every word that was said. However, they might be done momentarily. Elias has a limited tolerance for company, even in these exciting times.”

Murdoch could see a tea tray with silver teapot and china cups was set up by the fire, but he took her last words as a cue and forestalled her invitation to take tea.

“I gather it was a matter of some urgency on which you wished to speak to me, Miss Dignam.”

She sat down in the fireside chair, which was pulled as close to the hearth as possible, and again he took the one opposite her.

“I was wondering if you found my cake tin?”

If it weren’t for her complete composure, he would have considered she had dropped into some kind of dementia.

“I beg your pardon, ma’am?”

“I had made a special cake for the prayer meeting that I was carrying when I went into the church. I don’t have it here so I can only assume I dropped it … when I … when I tried to ascertain whether Mr. Howard was alive.”

“To my knowledge no cake tin has been found, Miss Dignam.”

“Then that is not without significance, wouldn’t you say?”

Caught up in the world of spinster ladies and tea and cake, Murdoch looked at her blankly for a moment.

She sighed. “I see I am not making myself clear. Forgive me. The tin is a pretty one with some sentimental value, but that is not the point. If you have not found it, then it was stolen.” She looked away from him into the dancing flames. “I told you that when I found him, the pastor’s body was still warm to the touch. It is possible that his assailant had remained in the church, perhaps hiding. When I ran out I must have left the tin behind. It is likely that the murderer took it.”

She had a point, but a cake tin!

“You say the tin had no particular monetary value, ma’am.”

“That is correct but the murderer did not necessarily know that, did he? It could have contained something of value. He probably took it with him to find out.”

“How big was it?”

“It was large enough to hold a cake that would feed eight people. The colours were gold and pink with a motif of peacocks and roses.”

Not an object that could be easily overlooked.

“I’ll check with the constables who were searching the premises, ma’am.”

She leaned toward him. “There is one more thing, Mr. Murdoch. I didn’t mention this to you before because frankly in the upset of the moment, it slipped my mind. I also didn’t think to say it at the inquest. There was a most disagreeable odour in the church when I first went in. I have been thinking about this most carefully, how I would describe it to you. Rotten eggs combined with a stale dirty sort of smell as if dishcloths had been allowed to stand damp for a long period of time.” There was a muffled sound of laughter from the next room and she frowned. “Elias told me that one of the witnesses saw a tramp going into the church –”

Murdoch interrupted her. “He was observed crossing the Gardens, ma’am, not actually seen entering the church.”

“But he must have gone inside. Tramps do have the odour I mentioned. I have smelled it before. They often come to Chalmers to beg. The fact that my cake tin is missing would confirm that. He would have expected it to contain food.”

She was making sense, but Murdoch found himself reluctant to pounce on the “tramp” theory. On the other hand, he couldn’t deny that was what it was starting to look like, especially given Reverend Swanzey’s testimony. If the man he had encountered and the tramp noticed by Mrs. Bright were one and the same, the likelihood was such a fellow could have entered the church, killed Howard, and escaped to a temporary hideout in the greenhouse. The timing fitted.

“Is that all you wanted to tell me, Miss Dignam?”

“Yes it is. I’m so sorry I didn’t say this earlier, but it had left my mind completely until now. It was only when I walked into the church again that I remembered.”

Murdoch wondered if she had communicated with the dead man’s spirit as she had hoped.

“There is something I meant to ask you, Miss Dignam. I do understand that you were in a state of shock when you came upon Reverend Howard’s body, but perhaps more things are coming back to you now.”

She stiffened. “I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Murdoch.”

“Constable Fyfer says you were covered with blood when you came running toward him, particularly your hands … why was that, Miss Dignam?”

Her hand flew to her cheek. “You heard what I said at the inquest. I bent down to his chest to check for a heartbeat. There was considerable blood on his coat. It must have …” She didn’t finish.

“Ma’am, essentially you are still under oath to tell the truth.”

“Of course. I don’t know why you are speaking to me this way, detective.”

Watching her try to puff herself up was like seeing a kitten fluff itself in front of the dog.

“Miss Dignam. Did you attempt to remove the knife from Mr. Howard’s neck?”

She turned quite white. “I … er …”

“I must have the truth, ma’am.”

She stared at him for a moment with horrified eyes, then she shrank back into her chair. “I did try, yes, but it was immovable.”

“You should have told me that before.”

“Forgive me. It was cowardice on my part. I was afraid how it might seem to the world, to my brother, for instance. Elias is already disgruntled with me for my behaviour at the inquest. And it is one thing to chance across such an unsavoury event, to use his words, it is another to be actively implicated. I shudder to think what he would say if he knew to what lengths I went in my desire to resuscitate Charles.”

“Is there anything else you have not said, Miss Dignam?”

She looked away from him. “Nothing. I have told you everything.”

They heard the sound of voices from the hall.

Miss Flowers, laughing merrily, and a deeper voice, who Murdoch assumed was Miss Dignam’s brother.

“Ah, she has finished.”

Miss Dignam got to her feet.

“I would rather they didn’t know you are here, Mr. Murdoch. They think talking to you will further upset me. I will draw them both away to the kitchen. Please wait here.”

She put her finger to her lips and hurried out, closing the door behind her. He could hear her talking and Miss Flowers answering but could not make out what they were saying. Then she came back into the room. “I’ve sent her off to make some tea. My brother has returned to his room. We have a few minutes only. I will give you the cake tin.”

Murdoch was beginning to suspect that the poor woman really had become unhinged through shock but she went on, keeping her voice low. “I thought it might be helpful for your investigation to see the twin of the one that is missing. My dear mother purchased several at once some years ago. Every Boxing Day, she liked to dispense Christmas cakes, mostly to my father’s employees but also to the families she knew who were impoverished.”

She listened for a moment to see if her friend was returning but all was quiet. She quickly went over to the tea trolley, pulled up the white damask cloth, and took a colourful cake tin from the rack.

“Here, you can take it with you for comparison. There is cake in it. I had made a second one and there is no sense in it going to waste. Elias doesn’t like caraway seed. I hope you do.”

“Er, yes, thank you.”

“Please eat it then.”

She thrust the tin, indeed pink and gold with a peacocks-and-roses motif, into his hands. Then she went to the hall stand for his hat and coat.

“I’ll keep May in the kitchen and you can slip away and let yourself out. We are on the telephone and you can ring me as soon as you have any more information. Goodbye, Mr. Murdoch.”

She went to the door, opened it a crack, and peeked out. She turned to him and nodded. “It’s all clear.”

Holding his hat and coat, the tin under his arm, Murdoch slipped away.

Chapter Twenty-One

A
LIGHT SNOW WAS FALLING
as Murdoch left the Dignam house, which made bicycling unpleasant. He turned left from Jarvis on to Carlton Street and rode up to Drummond’s grocery store. At first he thought the grocer had not yet returned from the inquest, but there was a dim light burning and, drawing close, he could see the grocer standing behind the counter, reading a newspaper. There were no customers. Murdoch propped his bicycle against the curb and went into the store.

Drummond looked up, his expression was sour. “Is this official business, detective, or are you in search of fresh vegetables? I’ll tell you right now, the potatoes aren’t very good and the carrots are woody. The cabbage is all right though, as long as you’re not sick of cabbage by now.”

Murdoch thought that if this was the way Drummond welcomed all his customers, it was no wonder his store was empty. Honesty might be a sign of virtue, but it could put a damper on business.

“I’m here officially, but I will take a pound of oatmeal while I’m at it. We’re running low.”

Drummond came from behind the counter to serve him from one of the bins. He didn’t seem to have much stock and the potatoes and carrots did indeed look wizened and the few Brussels sprouts were yellowing. Murdoch glanced over his shoulder. There was a big tree a few paces to the west of the store, but it was bare of foliage. He could see the side door of Chalmers Church quite clearly.

“Here you are. Two cents.” The grocer thrust a crumpled brown paper bag at him.

Murdoch handed him the money and Drummond held it in the palm of his hand and squinted through his glasses.

“That won’t bury me, will it? Are you sure there’s nothing else I can get you?”

“No thank you.” Murdoch accepted the brown paper bag, then he pulled the cake tin from the front of his coat where he’d wedged it.

“Have you seen this before?”

Drummond looked surprised. “Of course I have. It belongs to Miss Dignam. She uses it all the time at church bake sales. Why have you got it?”

“Actually she tells me this is one of several that she possesses. She says that she took some cake to the church on Tuesday and in her shock she left the tin there. It has not been found. She has lent me this so if I do come across a cake tin I can compare the two of them.”

“That’s proof then, isn’t it?”

“Of what, Mr. Drummond?”

“Come on, detective. You know what I mean, don’t play the dummy with me. That verdict of person unknown we brought in was a pile of horse manure. A waste of time, mine and the taxpayer’s. We all know who the culprit is. And this business with the tin proves it. The tramp must have picked it up. He’s the one you should be after.” He glared at Murdoch in exasperation. “You kenna have forgot already what the matron said?”

“You mean that she noticed a man crossing the Gardens who in her opinion was a tramp?”

“‘In her opinion’? My that’s a wee too lawyerish for me. That lassie is as sharp as a thumbtack. She saw a tramp all right and you don’t have to be a clever detective to work it out. He went into the church. Had some sort of quarrel with Charles Howard, for God knows what reason, killed him, then hoofed it over to that greenhouse where Mr. Swanzey ran into him. With a silver watch I might add, that just by coincidence was missing from the pastor’s waistcoat.”

He was right, but there was something smugly know-it-all about Drummond that Murdoch found intensely irritating.

“You saw him, did you, Mr. Drummond?”

“What do you mean, ‘saw him’?”

The grocer’s cheeks, what was visible of them, were already rosy in colour, so Murdoch couldn’t tell if the man had blushed. Nevertheless, the question seemed to disconcert him.

“You have a good view of the church and the park from your shop. I noticed you seem to spend a lot of time gazing out of the window. I was asking a simple question. Did you see this tramp either enter or leave the church?”

“No, I did not. I would have said so if I had.” He dragged up a semblance of a smile. “Don’t mind me, Mr. Murdoch. I can be a rough old fox, but I’m harmless. You appear to be taking offence at my tone and I didna mean anything by it. The whole affair has got us all riled up and short-tempered. Miss Sarah Dignam is a good-hearted soul and she doesna deserve to be drawn into the whole bloody godforsaken mess. I blew off a slate when you showed me that cake tin and what it implied. No hard feelings, I hope.” He stuck out his hand and Murdoch was forced to shake it. He wasn’t sure why the grocer was doing such an aboutface and trying to placate him. Drummond went over to one of the bins and picked up an apple.

“Here, peace offering. I know it’s as wrinkled as an old man’s behind but it’s still sweet.”

“Thank you.” Murdoch put the wizened apple in his pocket. “You said a few minutes ago, ‘for God knows what reason,’ when you referred to the possibility that a tramp may have murdered Reverend Howard.”

“Ay. I canna imagine Charles Howard refusing to help any tramp if they came a asking. He was as soft as butter.” His tone was neither contemptuous nor admiring. “Strictly speaking, it wasna his own money he was giving out, it was the kirk’s. I believe if you’re trusted with that responsibility you have to be doubly careful. You can waste your own muck, but not the public’s.”

Something struck Murdoch and he said, “Mr. Howard was a Visitor for the House of Industry, is that work you’ve done yourself?”

“Ay. I volunteer when I can. They need somebody like me.” Murdoch pitied the applicants who would be on Drummond’s list.

“By the way, Mr. Drummond, I understand there was some enmity between you and Mr. Howard.”

“Who the devil told you that?” He stepped away and folded his arms across his chest. His eyes were partially obscured by the spectacles, but Murdoch could sense that he had once again hit on a nerve.

“Never mind who told me, is it true?”

“No. Not the least. We didna see eye to eye about some matters of doctrine, but it wasn’t personal and I’d no call it enmity.”

“You’re an elder at the church, are you not? I understand Reverend Howard had to be elected to his office by the church council. Did you vote for him?”

“That’s a private matter within the church.”

Murdoch leaned forward. “I’m investigating the brutal murder of a man in the prime of his life, Mr. Drummond. At the moment, there are no such things as private matters. Please answer my question.”

“I dinna like the way the wind is blowing. I had nothing to do with Howard’s death, as you seem to be insinuating.”

Murdoch threw his hands out in mock indignation. “Good heavens, sir. All I asked was if the pastor was your choice.”

“No, he was not. And there you have it. The blunt unvarnished truth. He was too –” Drummond waved his hands. “Too florid. Chalmers is an old and dignified church. We came here and broke off from the previous congregation just so we could maintain our traditions, not melt and merge into Baptists or Methodists. Ach, Howard was well educated enough and I dare say the ladies found him charming, but I have no desire to belong to a mongrel church, thank you very much.” He touched his finger to the side of his nose. “Between you and me, I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t have a sly fondness for popish practices.”

“God forbid,” said Murdoch.

“It’s true. He wanted us to start a subscription for stained-glass windows. He was devilishly keen on music, and some of his interpretations of the scriptures were bordering on blasphemous in my opinion.”

Murdoch was curious to know what those interpretations were, but he didn’t want to get off track.

“Who was your choice, if I may ask?”

“Matthew Swanzey. He might look like a dry stick, but he’s got God’s fire in his belly. You should hear the man preach.”

“He was in the running then?”

“That’s right. And he should have got it. He’s been with Chalmers for the past six years as an associate pastor. We all expected he would be called when Pastor Cameron died. I didna understand it. The Kirk session was beguiled by a smooth tongue, if you ask me. And Howard won the vote. Why bring in a newcomer at all, I’d like to know? Besides which the man was originally a Yankee.”

“Mr. Howard knew of your views, I presume?”

Drummond patted his skinny stomach, as if he’d had a good meal. “I’m not one to hide my opinions in namby-pamby language. Ask anybody as knows me and they’ll tell you Angus Drummond is a man who calls a spade a spade even if others want to name it a golden shovel.”

Murdoch was saved from the impulse to be rude by the tinkle of the bell as a customer entered the store. Drummond turned to greet her.

“Ah Mrs. Reid, come for your dinner, have you? Well you’d better take one of the tins of salmon I got in. Unless you’ve got some butter, which you probably don’t, the potatoes aren’t worth the water.”

Murdoch headed for the door and called out, “If you do come across the cake tin, please let me know right away.”

Drummond barely deigned a nod and Murdoch left him to browbeat his intimidated customer.