Edwards had a look around to see that no one was watching him and then concealed the letters in his coat and made his way back to his room to look them both over. Something big enough had happened that both Olocher and Dunbar were writing to Waterford about it. This excited him as he rushed along through the house.
Once alone in the room, he placed the letters on the desk and opened Olocher’s first. He read through it with interest and was delighted with its content. This was more than he could have hoped for. A copycat killer already! What were the odds of that happening? Edwards could only hope that this would continue until James and himself were back in Dublin. Not only was he going to get to watch his own plan unfolding, but now there was an actual separate case to investigate in the city.
He felt giddy at the prospect of what lay ahead and he began to feel it would be better to solve this Waterford killing sooner rather than later now. He wondered if James had an idea what had happened here yet, something that he hadn’t told Edwards so far. This would not be unlike him. Edwards had seen him come out of the library yesterday afternoon and assumed he’d spoken to Victoria and Henry about Thompson’s death while he was in there. He hadn’t mentioned this to Edwards and for his part, he didn’t let James know he’d seen this.
Rereading the letter, he could feel some of both the panic and annoyance coming through from Olocher. He probably felt the wind had been taken from his sails. No doubt there had been an extreme high ruined by someone else stealing his thunder so soon after.
Next, Edwards took up the letter to James from Sheriff Dunbar and cut if open. He popped the letter out and then looked in to make sure there was nothing else in the envelope. He then spread the letter on the desk and read it.
It was no more than an account of the second murder and an inquiry as to why Dunbar hadn’t heard back from James about the first killing. Edwards laughed as he thought of James finding out his letters were going missing. He would be spitting feathers!
Dunbar seemed to be in a terrible panic, and no doubt would be handling the case all wrong. A man had been arrested at the scene for the second murder and was being held in the Black Dog- this worked into Edwards' plan too! Dunbar thought this man was innocent all the same but had seen the killer escape.
“Sloppy work, whoever you are,” Edwards said at this sighting of the killer. “Olocher would be most displeased with you.”
Olocher has asked in his letter what Edwards thought he should do about the second killer. Edwards was of the opinion that when it came to chaos the more the merrier. He penned a reply to Olocher telling him not to let this person distract him from his own work. Edwards felt it was time for Olocher to start planning his second outing, and to plan it well. He finished off the letter by saying he should be back in Dublin in a few days. Now all he had to do was either hurry James along or else leave before the case here at Wild Boar Hall was brought to a conclusion. Either way he didn’t much mind.
Edwards himself had no idea who might have killed Thompson, and no one so far was acting in any way that he would consider furtive. He had long been able to see dishonesty in people and so far in those he spoke to it had not been visible. The fact remained however, that someone had killed Thompson; someone was guilty.
The rain started coming down more heavily as he stoked the fire to dispose of the letters and envelopes from Dublin. It was going to be a miserable day down in this part of the country, that was for sure. As he looked into the flames slowly ripping up the papers, his mind wandered to the old woman at the cauldron up in that horrid little village.
Edwards saw her eyes again and they seemed to go through him as if she was seeing things within that he’d never seen himself. Mystics and witches like her had always fascinated him and he’d studied enough over the years to know that it wasn’t all nonsense and sleight of hand that they performed. This woman had sought no payment for her wisdom and this in itself was telling. It made him wonder and he felt he would like to go back and speak to her again. Hearing the thrumming on the windowpane he thought it would most likely not be today.
The last of the letters were consumed in fire and Edwards lay back on his bed thinking of what may be happening in Dublin at this very moment.
Chapter 29
The Stapleton family-including Frederick-, Alderman James and Mr Edwards reclined in comfortable chairs in a parlour of the house that looked out over the lawns and the driveway leading up to the house. From here, they were afforded views of the full might of the storm that was raging outside this night.
“It’s a pity it wasn’t like this last night, when you were telling your story,” Edwards smiled to Fredrick.
“Yes, it would have been better wouldn’t it,” Fredrick agreed.
“I don’t suppose anyone else has any scary stories they’d like to share?” Edwards asked smiling at each person in the room in turn. James wore an apprehensive mask hoping that Edwards would not try to talk about the Dolocher or Spencer murders. He hoped that someone would say something to divert the conversation. It would be too obvious to everyone if he were to do this himself.
“Well, I don’t have anything that could match Fredrick’s tales on the last few nights,” Stapleton said.
“Wait a moment,” Edwards said holding up a finger and standing to look closer out the window, “We have a new story unfolding right before us!”
“What is it?” Stapleton asked as everyone got up to look out the window with Edwards.
“Who is that?” Lady Stapleton asked in alarm.
Coming up the driveway, was a dark rider on an even darker black horse. They moved in the teeming rain as if they couldn’t feel it. Lightning flashed and lit up the rider. The brim of his dark hat obscured his downcast face, but they could see he was a large man and he looked like a perfect vision from a nightmare.
“Who would come out on a night like this?” James asked.
“I don’t recognise him,” Stapleton said, “But he’ll be at the door in a minute and Hodges will deal with him.”
“I don’t like this, Daddy,” Victoria said close to tears.
“Don’t fret, dear,” Lady Stapleton said taking her daughter by the shoulders, but James could see the unmistakable glint of fear in her eyes too.
“It’s probably a letter carrier,” Fredrick scoffed going back to his seat and taking up his glass of sherry from the side table where he had set it down in the excitement.
“Come away from the window, everyone.” Lady Stapleton said, “We don’t want to be staring.”
Everyone moved reluctantly away. Such was the power of the image of this man in the rain approaching the house, each one of them felt mesmerized and wanted to watch him all the way to the front door.
“Well, all will be revealed soon,” Edwards smiled mischievously.
James had a feeling, more like a hope, that this visitor would in some way have a bearing on the murder investigation but he held his tongue on this. Looking around at the women of the family he noted how scared they were and how much Victoria must believe in the legend of the house- she was at least as worried looking as Lady Stapleton, if not more so. Glancing at Henry, James saw that even he was not his usual cocksure self. He’d stayed very quiet on the approach of the visitor thus far.
The room sat in silence as they listened to the horses hooves come to a halt outside. The rider dismounted and steps followed before three loud ominous bangs boomed on the front door.
Next came the sound of Hodges shuffling towards the door but after that they could hear no more of use. They waited wondering if Hodges would send the man away or would he be someone who should be admitted to the house. It seemed very long before anything happened but finally there was a gentle tap on the door,
“Come,” Stapleton said.
The door opened and Hodges entered alone.
“What is it Hodges?” Stapleton asked.
“Well, Sir, there is a man here asking to speak to the Lord of the house.”
“Who is he?
”
“He says his name is Mr Deek, I think he is German, Sir,” Hodges said more meekly than usual.
“A German!” Fredrick exclaimed, “He’s lost his way!”
“I don’t know any Germans,” Stapleton mused.
“Did he say why he’s here?” Lady Stapleton asked.
“No my Lady,” Hodges answered, “Only that he seeks shelter from the Lord of the house.”
“Is he a gentleman?” she then asked.
“I think so, my Lady. His clothes though wet through, are of very high quality and his horse is an amazing animal.”
“See him in then,” Stapleton said, “We’ll see what’s what.”
James couldn’t help but notice Stapleton seemed to have a confrontational manner about him now, like he might expect some trouble from this man, whoever he was.
“Would you like me to go out and speak to him first?” James offered. Stapleton looked at him and seemed to ease a little,
“No thank you, Alderman; we will see who he is when he comes in.”
“Maybe it would be best if Mr James went out to him first,” Victoria put in clearly very scared that this dark stranger was about to be admitted to the room.
“Don’t be frightened, dear,” Lady Stapleton said, “This is not a story we are living in.”
“She thinks the Devil has come to visit us!” Henry said laughing.
“Perhaps he forgot something the last time he was here,” Edwards said slyly and Fredrick and Henry laughed at this.
“See him in, Hodges,” Stapleton said and the butler left to do so.
Half a minute later Hodges appeared at the door again,
“Presenting, Mr Daniel Deek of Prussia,” he said.
The stranger entered and they were all surprised by his size. He was a huge man, well over six feet and broad in the chest and shoulders. He had to stoop to enter the room. His hair was black and long, down over his shoulders, and shining wet from the storm. His eyes, blue and bright danced with candlelight and he smiled handsomely as he entered. His clothes were all black and he held in his hand a high top hat. His face wore a thin goatee and thin moustaches adorned as well.
“I am Lord Stapleton. Welcome to Wild Boar Hall, Mr Deek.”
“Thank you, I have long wanted to come to this place,” he said looking around after shaking hands with Stapleton.
“Very good,” Stapleton said and then he introduced the rest of the people in the room to Deek.
The visitor was pleasant and warm with each new introduction but James noticed the man held Edwards’ hand and gaze a little longer than he did anyone else. Deek looked at Edwards as if he was a puzzle to be solved and James was glad that it seemed someone else saw through Edwards right from the start for a change.
Chapter 30
Pat Croker was glad to be among the free as he walked along the sunny streets on his way to the Custom House. He’d spent a couple of very frightening and worrying days in Newgate Prison accused of the murder he’d stumbled upon in Angel Alley. It had been a wretched stay and while he was there, he had been prodded and kicked by the guards and questioned relentlessly by the Sheriff and the gaoler Cabinteely- though the latter had been much more lenient than the former.
At last, they had let him go, though they didn’t tell him they no longer suspected him and Croker supposed someone might be keeping tabs on his movements since he was released. Well, he thought, there was nothing he could do about that. If he just went on living his life as he had before, they would soon see that he had nothing to hide and then they would leave him alone. He had made a vow to himself that he was not going to be out and about after dark until the real killer was caught. He didn’t want to take the chance of coming across another victim; there would be no believing his innocence if that were to be the case.
As Croker passed a laneway, he heard the unmistakable tinkle of coins clapping on the cobbles. He paused a moment and looked down to see a cloaked man leaning against the wall like he was trying to catch his breath. Scanning the ground around the man, Croker saw a few silver coins about. He waited to see what the man would do.
The man set himself straight and then took a step forward away from Croker, heading for the far end of the lane where some houses were located. It was clear with the first step that the man was blind drunk. He probably hadn’t even noticed the coins falling. He took another few steps away from the money and once more stumbled against the wall, letting it prop him up.
Croker smiled; this was going to be an easy payday. He rubbed his hands with glee and looked around to be sure no one was either watching him, or else waiting to claim the money for themselves. Of the few people who milled about, none of them was paying either Croker or the drunk a blind bit of notice. Croker took a step into the lane and waited there.
The drunk took the same few shambling steps and now he was a good few feet beyond the coins. He slumped against the wall again and now another coin dropped and clinked on the ground. Croker strained to see it but couldn’t make out its colour.
‘I’ll let him take a few more steps and the next time he leans against the wall, he should be far enough away not to notice me come up behind him and collect up the coins, Croker thought. The man moved on once more and again stopped for support. Croker started to move forward.
At first, he was moving with great stealth but as he got closer to the money, he started to wonder why he was being so quiet. This drunk would not notice if a battleship was coming up the lane behind him. No longer caring what the man might think, Croker strode forward and swooped on the money.
It only took a moment to collect up the coins, but as Croker stood, a fiercely strong hand gripped him by the throat and he felt himself being slammed hard against the wall.
“What the...” was all he managed to say before the wind was knocked out of him on impact.
“What did you see in Angel Alley?” the man asked in a harsh whisper. Croker was getting his senses back and he saw it was the man in the cloak who was holding him. He was looking downwards and the brim of his cloak meant Croker could not see his face at all.
“What?” he asked in fright; he knew already that there was no point in trying to resist the strength that held on to him just then.
“What did you see on Angel Alley?” the raspy voice repeated.
“Nothing!” Croker said suddenly very fearful. He thought this was the killer right here before him.
“What did you tell the Sheriff?”
“Nothing, I swear it, there was nothing I could have told him, I saw nothing!”
“You saw a man leaving the end of the alley. What did you see of him?”
“Just a shape,” Croker said almost in tears.
“How tall?”
“I don’t know.”
“A fat man? Thin?”
“Stocky, I suppose,” Croker said after a moment's thought. If this man was asking these kind of questions then perhaps he was not the killer after all, but merely someone else looking for him.
“What was he wearing?”
“I really don’t know,” Croker said, “It was so dark.” The man appeared to nod slowly in agreement with this.
“Do you know anything about the man who was killed?” he asked.
“No, never seen or heard of him before that moment,” Croker said truthfully.
Then, to his horror, Croker saw that the man's head was starting to rise to look into his face.
“You better be sure to never lie to me,” the man said, “I will know if you do.”
And now, the red flesh of his snarling face showed as he drew close to Croker.
“I won’t, I swear it!” Croker said closing his eyes in horror. It was the very image of the Devil that stood before him and Croker felt his last moment on earth had arrived.
“See that you don’t,” the Devil said letting go of Croker.
The terrified man didn’t need a second invitation to run and he tore off as fast as he could tossing the coins in the gutter
as he ran.
Chapter 31
“Where are you taking me, Mr Mullins,” Larry asked as he drafted along Cook Street behind the blacksmith.
“It’s not far, Larry,” Mullins said and then added, “And I told you to stop calling me that. Mullins will do fine.”
“Sorry,” the boy said.
“I can set you up with a way you might be able to earn a living, but where I’m taking you now, you can learn how to take care yourself.”
“Do you mean fightin’?” Larry asked and Mullins noticed some excitement in his voice.
“Yes, we’re going to Lord Muc, he’s going to teach you how to handle yourself.”
“Lord Muc!” Larry said excitedly, “He’s the best fighter Dublin’s even seen!”
Mullins smiled at this; he knew the notoriety Muc had all over the Liberties but he never knew the youngsters of the area looked up to him.
“Is that so?” he asked.
“Yeah!” Larry said as if Mullins was completely naive, “He killed a huge wolf with his bare hands!” Mullins chuckled at this; he recalled the wolf having come face to face with himself a year ago.
“He did do that alright,” he said, “I’m not sure if it was with his bare hands but I’m sure that’s something you could ask him yourself.”
Larry suddenly looked a little pale at the idea of meeting this icon of Dublin lore.
“”What’s he like?” he asked.
“Muc? Mean and sour, but don’t worry. He’ll make you as tough as stone in no time.”
Larry didn’t make any answer to this but Mullins could feel his trepidation. The boy had made a lot of progress in only a few days and had opened up to Mullins quickly. Mullins thought he’d probably been so bashful at the start because he was so used to being surrounded by only women. The presence of a man was doing him good, and now his work coupled with what Muc showed him would give him a great start in life. Mullins felt proud of himself and wondered if this was what it was like to be a father.
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