Let Loose the Dogs

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Let Loose the Dogs Page 31

by Maureen Jennings


  Barker led him out. Murdoch felt as if his legs might not hold him up any longer. He could hardly breathe, as if there were a scream trapped in his chest that was holding all the air in his body.

  “Why don’t you sit down for a moment, Mr. Murdoch.” He became aware that Massie was standing close beside him.

  “Why you, a police officer, were fighting with a prisoner under my care is something I will get you to explain at a later date. However, there is an urgent matter you must know about.”

  Murdoch stared at him, unable to comprehend what he was saying.

  “I did not want to say this in front of your father because it might cruelly raise his hopes. We have received a message over the telephone from Number Seven Station. Apparently, Walter Lacey’s wife has attempted to take her own life, and she has confessed to killing John Delaney.”

  Chapter Fifty

  MASSIE PUT HIS HAND ON MURDOCH’S SHOULDER. “The woman is still alive. Her husband found her just in time and carried her to the tavern. It was the publican who insisted you be sent for. I assume he is aware of your relationship with Harry.”

  “Yes, he is.”

  “Mr. Murdoch, I have been a warden for a long time, and I have perhaps seen all there is to see of human depravity and human foolishness. Unfortunately, I have encountered many instances of such confessions, which always prove to be spurious. It might be very tempting for you to clutch at this as a last hope of proving your father’s innocence. But I do not advise it.”

  Murdoch pressed his fingertips against his temples. He had developed a stabbing headache.

  “Mr. Murdoch? What would you like to do?”

  He looked up. “I have to find out what this is all about. I’ll go right away.”

  “Ah, I rather thought that would be your decision. I have made my carriage available to you. It is ready in the driveway.”

  “Warden Massie, if this is in fact a true confession, how shall I proceed?”

  “Not to be facetious, but I’d advise, with the utmost speed. If you bring me credible proof that she was the one who killed Delaney, then I will be able to stay the execution. However” - he grimaced – “apparently her life hangs by a thread. It is highly likely she will have gone to Her Maker before you get to her.”

  Spontaneously, in spite of the warden’s presence, Murdoch crossed himself.

  “Dear Lord, preserve her soul.”

  “Amen to that,” added Massie.

  “And if she is already dead?”

  “I cannot answer that question until I have heard all of the circumstances. God speed.”

  The warden’s horse was young and well cared for so the coachman was able to hold a canter from the jail to the Manchester tavern, and they were there in less than thirty minutes. Murdoch replayed the confrontation with Harry over and over in his mind. The expression, to be at the boiling point, was virtually a literal truth about the way his body felt. The news about Jessica Lacey was a surprise. He’d gone through his list of local people in answer to “If not Harry, then who?” but he hadn’t seriously considered her a suspect. “A spurious confession” was the term the warden had used. Momentarily, Murdoch wasn’t sure if he wanted it to be genuine or not; but even in his anger, he couldn’t stomach Harry hanging for a crime he didn’t commit.

  The coachman was pulling up his steaming horse in front of the tavern. They came to a halt, and he jumped down from his seat and opened the door of the carriage as smartly as if Murdoch were the warden himself.

  “Shall I wait for you, sir?”

  “Yes, for now.”

  As Murdoch got out, the front door opened and Newcombe waved at him.

  “I heard the carriage,” he said. “Come this way.”

  Murdoch followed him inside. “How is she?”

  “Very weak. She lost a lot of blood.”

  “Will she recover?”

  “The doctor is optimistic.” He ushered Murdoch into the hall. “She’s in the parlour. Walter carried her up from the ravine, and we put her in here.”

  “Can I talk to her?”

  “The doctor said nobody should go in, but given the circumstances, he might relent.”

  “I have to, Vince. You know that.”

  Murdoch was on the verge of going into the parlour no matter what the opposition, but the doctor himself emerged.

  “Dr. Moore, this is Detective Murdoch. I spoke to you about him.”

  The physician was a tall, thin man with what turned out to be an implacably cheerful bedside manner. He thrust out his hand and greeted Murdoch energetically.

  “Yes, yes, no need to explain your astonishing circumstances; I heard the entire story, and I quite understand you will want to talk to the young woman. And so you shall, but not for too long. I have written down everything she said to me, as is the law, and she has even been able to sign the paper herself so you need not worry on that account.”

  Murdoch couldn’t get a word in edgewise and had to wave his hand in a dumb show of wanting to go into the parlour.

  “Give me ten more minutes, and then you can come in. She’ll be quite all right,” he continued, and he popped back into the room. Vince touched Murdoch’s sleeve.

  “Why don’t you speak to Walter in the meantime? He’s in the taproom with the constable.”

  “Vince, does Lacey know who I am?”

  “Yes, I had to say it out. The sergeant wouldn’t have sent for you otherwise.” He hesitated. “Do you want to hear what happened first?”

  “Yes, I would.”

  “Let’s go into the kitchen then. We’ll leave the door open, so we can see if the doctor comes out.”

  They went in.

  “Tch, tch!” exclaimed Newcombe, and he quickly opened up the stove and pulled out a pan of meat. “Completely forgot about it in all the excitement.”

  He put the pan on the table and without being asked picked up the teapot and poured two mugs of tea. The tea had steeped so long, it almost walked into the mug, but Murdoch was glad to drink it.

  “All right, tell me what happened.”

  Newcombe sat down at the table. “Maria and me were having our dinner, right here, when we heard Walter calling from outside the window. I looked out and there he was with Jess in his arms. He’d carried her all the way up from the ravine. She’d cut both her wrists, and she looked nigh to death’s door. Well, we both ran out to help him, and he told us he’d found her in some hideaway near the cottage. Thank God he’d had the presence of mind to tear up his shirt and apply a tourniquet on both arms. And thank God for my Maria. She took right over. I brought Jess straight through into the parlour.” He pointed at the floor. “Look, you can see the blood spots. It was pumping out of her. Maria snatched up her towels and bound up the wrists tight. Walter looked like he was going to fall down himself, but Maria shook him into some sense and sent him back for the child, who was tagging behind him. We could hear her bawling from here. I ran off fast as I could to fetch Dr. Moore, who’s just around the corner, thank the Lord. I thought I’d see the lass dead when I got back, but she was still breathing and looking a bit better. Maria had got some brandy down her throat. Dr. Moore took over, but really Maria had done as much as could be done. He stitched up the wounds but it’s prayer now and waiting.”

  “At what point did Jessica say she had killed Delaney?”

  “About an hour ago. She recovered consciousness sufficiently to speak, and the doctor of course asked her why she had done such a dreadful thing to herself. She said it was because she had killed John Delaney, and an innocent man was going to be hung for it.” He patted Murdoch’s arm.

  “Go on. I’m all right.”

  “She said she wanted to talk to Maria alone, but my good wife was too sensible to be the sole witness. She got some paper and made the doctor write down what Jess said. Maria asked her why had she killed Delaney if ’twere true? ‘Because he tried to force himself upon me. I pushed him over the fence,’ Jess said.” Newcombe wiped his face with the b
ack of his shirt sleeve. “All this time Walter was like a tethered wild horse. He just about burst. ‘You did not kill him. I told you that.’ Poor girl got mighty distressed at that and looked as if she was going to give up the ghost right there and then. The doctor said no more talking. He got Jess to sign the paper with what she had said; then he told me to take Walter into the other room. Which I did, although he didn’t come easy. I felt as if I was swimming in waters that was too deep for me, so I didn’t ask him any more. Dr. Moore came out and said he had to fetch his nurse, and he would go to the station and get a constable to come. I told him to have them find you and get you up here. I sat with Walter.” Newcombe screwed up his face. “I must tell you, Will, that was one of the longest hours I’ve ever spent. Neither of us spoke a word. I didn’t think it wise. I was only too happy to hand him over to Constable Stanworth. Ready?”

  Murdoch nodded. They both drained the mugs of tea and went down the hall to the taproom.

  Walter Lacey was seated in the ingle seat close to the fire, huddled in his chair. There was a blanket draped over his shoulders, and he was dressed only in his undershirt and trousers. He looked like a man who had been washed ashore after a shipwreck. Constable Stanworth was standing at the window. He saluted and he and Murdoch exchanged introductions.

  Murdoch went over to Walter and sat down across from him in the ingle.

  “Mr. Lacey. I know this is a most difficult time for you, but it is imperative I ask you some questions. I believe Mr. Newcombe has told you who I am.”

  “Let me make this clear. My Jess didn’t kill that devil, although she had damn good reason to. God himself wouldn’t pass judgement on her. She just thinks she did, and it’s weighed terrible on her conscience.”

  “Please tell me what happened.”

  Lacey blinked. “I suppose it was about nine o’clock. Everybody but Mr. Pugh had left. I was out back washing down the pit when Jess comes running in. She’s carrying our daughter and she’s white as paint. Sally’s screeching like she’s been stabbed. I couldn’t understand Jess at first; she’s trembling so much, she could hardly talk. Then I realise what she’s telling me … that Delaney had come up to the cottage and tried to force himself on her. She says he’s had his eye on her for some time, which she’d never revealed to me before.” He clenched his fists and his eyes were so hot with rage, Murdoch could understand why his wife had kept her secret.

  “Please continue, Mr. Lacey.”

  “Delaney used the dog as a pretext. I knew he’d been bringing it around more frequently lately, but I thought it was so as Sally could play with it. But it was Jess he was after.” Again he stopped to regain some control. Newcombe and the constable hovered uneasily nearby. “She wouldn’t even tell me every which thing, but Sally witnessed it all. Delaney says he’s going to harm the child if Jess doesn’t give in. He makes like he’s going to tie Sally to the chair. But she manages to snatch her up and run outside. He follows after her, playing like a fox with a rabbit. Next thing she knew, he grabs her by the hair. But she’s got spirit, has my Jess, and she gives him a fight. She was too quick, and she got free. They had both got turned around somehow, so that he’s backed up against the rear fence. She gives him a shove as hard as she can, and he falls backward and rolls down the hill.” Lacey was starting to breathe hard as if he had been fighting himself. “According to Jess, he hit one of the trees. She hardly took notice she was so needing to escape, but she says he lay still and she thought his neck was broken. She took Sally and fast as she could ran down the other path to the tavern. I told her we had to get Maria, but that really set her off again. She didn’t want anybody to know, not even Maria. I said I’d look after everything. I ran back down to the ravine. There wasn’t a sign of the bastard, living or dead. I came back and told her that. That he must have been able to get up and walk so his neck wasn’t close to being broken, more’s the pity. She starts to calm down but makes me promise I won’t say anything or try to get revenge on Delaney. She says she would die from the shame of it. I tell you frankly, I’m beside myself but thought it best to wait and see what falls out. Maria is fetched and tends to both of them.” He paused and looked over at Newcombe. “I’m as parched as a desert, Vince. Could you pour me a drop of spirit?”

  The innkeeper hurried over to the counter and poured out a shot of whiskey. Murdoch waited as patiently as he could while Lacey drank some of the liquor, shuddering as men do who haven’t had the fire in their belly for some time.

  “She’s just starting to get some colour back in her cheeks when along comes Philip Delaney a-looking for his pa, and well, you know the rest of it. He and Mr. Pugh found Delaney in the creek. He was dead, may he burn in hell. One bastard killed by another.”

  “Meaning Harry Murdoch?”

  “That’s right. I’d be lying if I said I was sorry. Justice was done. But Jess, she … she let it plague her to the point where she’s not stable. She lost the babe she was carrying right the next day. She’s not been right since. Then she hears as the verdict is in, Harry Murdoch is convicted, and that was the last straw.”

  Murdoch crouched down so he could look into the other man’s face. “Mr. Lacey, is your wife aware that the coroner himself said Delaney was killed near where he was found? He walked on his own legs down to the path. And even if that weren’t the case, even if Delaney had broken his neck in a fall, no jury in the world would blame Jess for trying to defend herself.”

  “She wasn’t up to attending the trial, but I told her and told her she wasn’t responsible. She just moiled on it. Wouldn’t believe me.”

  “Why didn’t you, yourself, bring this forward at the trial?” asked Murdoch.

  “Are you married?”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Then you can’t understand.”

  “I know what it’s like to love a woman. Married men don’t have the prerogative on that.”

  “It’s different when it’s your wife. Getting her to talk about what happened was like taking a bandage off somebody who’s been in a forest fire. I couldn’t do that to her again and in public. It was obvious who the real killer was; there was no sense in destroying Jess and Sally any more than they’d already been destroyed.”

  Murdoch took a deep breath. “Mr. Lacey, I think you are a liar. That you are a yellow coward, and that for all your professions of love, you are, in fact, intent only on saving your own skin. That you would allow an innocent man to die for a crime he didn’t commit and you would even allow your beloved wife to take her own life because she thinks she is the one responsible.”

  Lacey leaped to his feet, and it was only because Newcombe got in front of him in time that he wasn’t at Murdoch’s throat. The constable had to help force him back to the bench.

  “Calm down, Walter,” said Newcombe. “We’re all under pressure here.”

  “He’s not. It’s not his wife who might die!”

  “No, it’s not!” Murdoch shouted back. “But Harry Murdoch is my father, and there is no doubt he will die – this Monday morning at seven o’clock to be precise – unless I find out the truth.”

  “What truth? He did in Delaney.”

  “Did he? Or was it you?”

  “Horsecrap!”

  “Is it? I think you were the one who encountered Delaney when you ran back into the ravine. You were enraged at what he had done to your wife. You smashed him over the head then rolled his body into the creek, hoping it would look as if he had drowned by accident …”

  “No!”

  “You told your wife you didn’t see any sign of Delaney, but it’s my guess she knows you’re trying to protect her. She is an honourable woman, and she cannot bear the thought of an innocent man dying for something she did. But you don’t care, do you? You’ll let both of them die as long as you are alive. Isn’t that the truth, Mr. Lacey?”

  Tears were streaming down Lacey’s face, and he could hardly speak for his sobs. Murdoch felt like a torturer.

  “Look, Mister, if
you think I would do that to Jess, you have another think coming. I would die on the rack before I saved myself and not her …”

  “Tell me the truth then. Did you or did you not kill John Delaney?”

  “I swear I did not. I never saw him alive after he left this tavern.”

  “Will you take an oath on a Bible?”

  “Yes.”

  Lacey caught Murdoch by the wrist. “And you? Do you swear to me that there is no possibility that Jess was responsible for the bastard’s death?”

  “I am sure of it.”

  “Then I will tell you the truth.”

  Murdoch looked over his shoulder at Newcombe. “Can you fetch us a Bible right away?”

  Chapter Fifty-one

  NEWCOMBE WENT TO THE BAR COUNTER, reached underneath, and removed a small Bible. Murdoch handed the book to Lacey.

  “Hold this in your right hand…. Do you swear that the evidence you are about to give touching the death of John Delaney shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God.”

  “I do.”

  “Mr. Newcombe and Constable Stanworth, take note of what Mr. Lacey says, commit it to memory. I, myself, will write it down. Please go on, sir.”

  Lacey slid the Bible onto the bench beside him. “What I have to say isn’t that much different from what I’ve already told you. If the man had been in front of me, I would cheerfully have killed him with my bare hands. But he wasn’t and I didn’t.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Like I said, as soon as I’d got the story out of Jess, I ran down into the ravine. I expected to find Delaney’s body, and I did. He was lying across the path just up along from the bridge. I could see he was dead. I thought she had killed him. How was I to know any different given what she’d told me? I didn’t have no clear plan, but I rolled him into the creek, like you said, thinking it would look like he’d slipped in accidentally.”

  “Did you kick the body? Remember, you’re under oath.”

  Lacey stared at the Bible beside him as if it would jump up and bite him. Reluctantly, he said, “Yes. I put the boots to him. I was only sorry he couldn’t feel it.”

 

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