Shadow of the Dolocher

by European P. Douglas

  "Yes, thank you," he said, and they climbed on into Edwards plush carriage and followed the slow progress of the cart through the streets towards the mortuary.

  "We have to hope that this body yields some clues," Edwards said.

  "I have a feeling it will."

  "Because of where it was found?"

  "Yes, there will be something to this one. She is a girl from one of the brothels too, so the identity will be easy to establish."

  "Perhaps I might know her then," Edwards said in a happy tone. He was doing this to rile James puritanical side, and the Alderman knew this.

  "Most likely," he answered dryly.

  "Was she killed in the same way?"

  "I think so, but I'll have to wait to see properly. There was a huge section of her middle missing that was made to look like a bite."

  "But you don't believe it?"

  "You know I don't believe it, I was duped into thinking an animal might be responsible the last time against my better judgement, I won't be drawn into that again."

  They arrived at the mortuary and were greeted by Doctor Adams.

  "I'm seeing too much of you, Alderman James," the doctor said, there was some jest in the tone, but mostly it was serious.

  "Far too much," James agreed. "Doctor Adams, this is Mr. Edwards."

  "We've met, I believe," Edwards said with a smile, and the Doctor blushed and went inside after the body. James assumed that Edwards knew Adams from one of the brothels by this reaction and he thought no more of it.

  In the same well-lit room that James had been in with the last body, Doctor Adams ran over the woman with his hands, checking different parts as he went.

  "This woman was killed by multiple stab wounds to the abdomen and the rest was cut away after or during death the same as the others," he announced standing back up to face the men.

  "Do you know her?" Edwards asked, and Adams looked at him with shock.

  "What?"

  "She's one of the girls from Melanie's isn't she?"

  "I don't know!" James hid his smile at the awkwardness of the doctor.

  "I don't know her name, but I think I recognise her face," Edwards said to James.

  "We can call there later and find out," James said, "Is there anything else on the body?" he asked turning back to Adams.

  "Not on the front. I'll turn her over." He did this in a careful and efficient way. The back of the dress was closed with strong lace ties, but straight away they could all see that there was something underneath the dress, something dark and coarse. Adams cut open the ties, and they saw that it was a cloth sack that was in there.

  "Take it out," James said when Adams looked at him. The doctor did so carefully and placed it on a side table gently.

  "It's very light," he said, and he stepped back to let James get to it. The Alderman took it by the sides and slowly opened the bag and looked inside.

  "It’s paper," he said, and he put his hand in and gently gripped the sheet and took it out. He held it out at arm's length so that they could all see it. It was a picture of a boy sitting down whittling at a stick.

  "What's this?" Adams asked, clearly confused at the idyllic nature of the scene.

  "Is there something on the back?" Edwards asked. James turned it; the only thing on this other side was the picture of a crude knife and a horizontal line drawn with a vertical one joining it at the edge.

  "What do you make of that?" he asked, but Edwards just shook his head.

  Chapter 18

  A man lay in an alley off Cutpurse, dead and white skinned as the June sun slowly rose. He was on his back, and his face was severely beaten, his left thigh was missing a large chunk, looking like a bite from some huge animal. He was found by a young boy who was running away from home, leaving by first light. The boy changed his mind when he saw the man and feared that whatever had done it was still close by. He ran home and told his father who alerted the guards at Newgate, who in turn sent a message to the barracks.

  It was fully bright by the time James arrived, and Edwards was there ahead of him. The body was covered in a thick sheet and soldiers were not letting anyone hover in the area, moving people along as soon as they arrived in the vicinity of the body. Edwards was leaning against the wall of a tea room that had been forced to remain closed this morning; he smoked a pipe and looked about disinterestedly. James saw him from the carriage, and he sighed. Edwards was definitely involved now if he was showing up at the murder sites. James got out and went over to him.

  "Alderman," Edwards nodded.

  "Mr. Edwards," James replied.

  "Another one made to look like a bite," Edwards said as James looked over at the sheet. "On the leg this time." They walked over to the sheet and James lifted it.

  "He doesn't look so bad compared to the others," James noted. He leaned in and looked at the leg seeing the same marks and scratches the doctor at the barracks had shown him on the previous victim. There didn't seem to be anything inside the wound. James stood up and looked about the ground.

  "There's no sign that it was done here," Edwards said pre-empting him.

  "That fits with our man,” James looked back at the body. "I wonder what this one died from?"

  "The face looks pretty beat up. That might have done it?" Edwards suggested.

  "Maybe. The doctor will look him over and let me know anyway,” Edwards nodded and puffed on his pipe again.

  "This wasn't one of the Dolocher sites was it?" he asked.

  "It was. The gaoler Brick was found here."

  "Oh, yes. That was the last murder," Edwards laughed. "I think everyone forgets that one." James looked at him disapprovingly.

  "So far, they've all been Dolocher sites then, is that right?" Edwards asked. James nodded. "Are you going to put men on the other sites?"

  "These killings are so far apart time wise compared to the others. I've told the men and the parish watch to keep an eye out on the old sites, but the bodies are just dumped there, so it's been hard to spot them. Any coach going by in the night could drop something, and no one would bat an eyelid in this place."

  "Any suspects?" James looked around to see that no one could be listening to them.

  "None. Have you heard anything?"

  "Afraid not."

  James dropped the sheet back to cover the body and stood back up.

  "You never did show me that letter and sketch that you got," Edwards said.

  "Can you come to the house now?" James asked.

  "I'm at your disposal."

  James left a note for the soldiers to take to the doctor when they brought the body to the mortuary that said he would drop by in the late afternoon.

  Edwards joined James in his carriage so that they could talk on the way. James would have preferred to be on his own and Edwards in his own carriage, but he said nothing when Edwards climbed into his after him.

  "Has anyone been questioned under suspicion yet?" Edwards asked.

  "No. We've just been looking for witnesses so far, but that has turned up nothing."

  "I think it might be time that you started getting at some of the old names."

  "How do you mean?"

  "Get the soldiers out and question people who were questioned last time."

  "To what end?"

  "Ruffle some feathers, who knows what you might turn up?" James mused on this for a moment and nodded slowly.

  "Anyone in mind?"

  "Well Lord Muc is always up to something and maybe that blacksmith, what was his name again?"

  "Mullins?"

  "Yes, that's the one."

  "Why those two?" James asked with cocked eyebrows.

  "Well, Muc for his violent tendencies. Don't forget that the gang fights have almost dried up completely now and he'll need to get rid of the violent energy somewhere."

  "He's been brawling in bars on numerous occasions."

  "That might not be enough for him. He always knew when he was going to be fighting. He almost made a religion of it
from what I've heard. Then, of course, there were the tusks from that boar he uses; a paean to the Dolocher if ever there was one."

  "And why Mullins?"

  "He was a close friend to the killer. I don't think it is too much of a stretch to think he might be trying to emulate him. Don’t forget he was also at the grave site last time too."

  "Maybe it's something worth looking into." James agreed. He didn't like the idea of questioning people randomly, but he supposed Edwards made some salient points about the two men and there were bound to be more people in similar circumstances that might be considered for questioning. Who knew what it might throw some light on.

  When they arrived at James' house on Henrietta Street, they went straight to the study where James had the letter and envelope locked away in his desk.

  "Sit by the window there, and I'll bring it over so you can see it better," James said. Edwards walked and leaned against the wall and looked out the window at the street below. James looked to see that Edwards was not watching him and then took a small key on a chain from his waistcoat and bent to the drawer and opened it. He took the paper to Edwards and handed him the letter side up first. He watched Edwards face as he read the letter to see if he showed any kind of recognition of the handwriting or paper, but he didn't seem to. His eyes roved over the paper, and then he turned it to see the sketch on the back. At this, his eyes did light up.

  "What is it?" James asked.

  "Here is your clue Alderman," Edwards laughed. James looked at the sketch again, but he didn't see what Edwards was talking about.

  "Where?"

  "The sketch itself," Edwards was smiling at him as though the answer were completely obvious, but James had no clue what he meant. "This was done by a skilled and talented artist. This is as good as a signature!"

  "How so?"

  "This man will have worked for hire or commission before. No hobbyist is this talented."

  "You think he is a professional?"

  "I do, and there are not a million people in Dublin with this level of talent." Edwards sounded triumphant as though the case were solved.

  "I think it's safe to say that Mullins and Lord Muc are in the clear on this one then," James laughed. Edwards stiffened.

  "Not necessarily," he said, and James looked at him wondering what he could mean. "They may be working for this man, carrying out his dirty work." This didn't sound very convincing to James, and he wondered if Edwards had some kind of history with the two men he wanted to be harassed by the army. "Anyway, you need to be seen to be doing something in the Liberties," Edwards went on. With this James did agree, and he decided to go along for now and see what materialised.

  "I'll send someone to question them both later today. How will we go about finding this artist then?"

  "Ask your friends if they have had any artwork done recently and I'll do the same. We can then draw up a list and go and see what has been done and compare it to your sketch here."

  "There are always many painters in the streets too, I will have them checked out as well."

  "Good idea. Shall we meet tomorrow afternoon and compare lists?"

  "Yes, where do you want to meet?"

  "Somewhere in the Liberties?"

  "To be seen?"

  "Exactly. How about that whiskey cabin we met in once? Do you remember the one?"

  "On Cook Street, yes I remember it. Shall we say three o'clock?"

  "Can we make it a little later, five maybe?"

  "Of course."

  "In case we need a little more time to get our information together," Edwards explained, but James felt it was so Edwards could sleep late after whatever he had planned for this evening.

  "Five O'clock it is," James agreed with a knowing smile.

  Chapter 19

  Kate stood to the side of the vegetable stall as Sarah dealt with a customer.

  "Did you hear about Mary's fancy man?" Sarah asked looking sideways at her as she handed the customer their change and nodded goodbye.

  "No, it's not the painter fella is it?" Kate said.

  "No, no, he's a tavern boy, well man I suppose, around her age."

  "Is he nice?"

  "Nice on the eye, anyway!" Sarah giggled, and Kate joined her.

  "What's his name?"

  "John something."

  "And where does he work?"

  "In the same place she used to."

  "Up on Wards Hill?"

  "Yeah, he's not from Dublin, he's come up from Galway last year."

  "What does she say about him?"

  "She seems happy, she says he's nice, and he's picked her flowers a few times, I've seen them in glasses in the house."

  "Young love," Kate smiled.

  "Here she is now," Sarah said, "You can ask her yourself."

  They looked and saw Mary coming across from the river side of the market. Her empty potato basket flopping at one side as she walked.

  "I've heard all about you," Kate said mockingly.

  "What?" Mary said coming up to the stall, her face flushing in embarrassment.

  "You know well what; men falling all over you," Sarah said taking up Mary's basket and starting to fill it again.

  "John?" Mary asked innocently.

  "Is he nice, Mary?" Kate asked.

  "He is, he's really lovely," Mary said, unable to contain her excitement. The other two laughed.

  "It's great news, Mary," Kate said.

  "Things have certainly looked up this year," Sarah said.

  "How long do you think you will be going to the painter's house?"

  "Hard to say, I don't get to see the painting, so he could be still at the start, or he could be nearly finished for all I know."

  "Did he not say?"

  "Not really, and I'm afraid to ask."

  They all fell silent here, and Sarah passed the newly filled basket back to Mary so that she could go back up to the busy streets and try to sell some more.

  "How have things been for you?" Mary asked Kate, and she knew that she was referring to Edwards.

  "Quiet for a while now, but that only makes me more nervous,” she looked around to see if he was nearby, she felt that he was always nearby somehow.

  "And Tim still knows nothing?" Sarah asked with concern. Kate shook her head. "You make sure it stays that way," Sarah said in warning.

  "So, tell us all about this John fella then Mary," Kate said happily, changing the subject back to the original topic. Mary blushed again but smiled.

  "Well, he's from Galway, he's here alone. His family are on a small holding, and he is sending money to them. They hope to be able to come here soon too."

  "Where is he living?"

  "He's living in a room above the tavern."

  "Is it nice?" Kate said with a wink.

  "I haven't seen it!" Mary said with genuine alarm and shock and then hitting Kate's arm with a nervous smile when she realised that she was only joking. Sarah was laughing at them. "I'm seeing him tonight," Mary said with a wide smile.

  "Where are you going?"

  "Just for a walk along the river."

  "Sounds very nice."

  "Make sure he walks you home to your door," Kate said. There was no need to remind her that there was a killer about.

  As a group, they had not spoken of the fact that the killings were associated with the Dolocher and that two of them had been victims, albeit surviving victims, of those attacks. Kate had thought about the new murders a lot, and in a way that made her feel like a terrible person. She was happy when the identity of each person was revealed, and it was not someone who had been connected in any way with the previous murders two years ago. It made her feel less threatened, less like she was going to be targeted specifically as someone with a link to the Dolocher times.

  "I will," Mary said quietly. Kate felt silly now for saying this, she knew that Mary would never walk the streets alone at night, had not done so since she was attacked near the very start of the Dolocher's run.

  "I better ge
t going," Kate said.

  "Me too," said Mary.

  "Why don't you both pop over to the house tomorrow evening for a bit?" Kate suggested. The two women agreed, and Kate and Mary went differing ways, and Sarah was left behind attending the stall.

  As Kate walked towards the blacksmith shop, she could feel that Edwards was about to appear, and she was not surprised in the least when he did. He emerged from a coffee house just as she was passing and for all the world it looked like a complete coincidence, but she knew better.

  "Hello Mrs. Mullins," he said politely.

  "Hello," she replied sullenly.

  "I never did hear back about that letter I gave you," he said, his voice false with mock hurt.

  "That should be answer enough," she said, happy with this flippancy. He looked at her, but his face didn't betray any real emotion. He looked about the street and sighed.

  "Is this place what you really want?" he asked. She didn't answer. "The streets here are not safe Kate. Especially for you."

  "What do you mean for me?"

  "Have you not heard that someone is copying the Dolocher's murders?"

  "Of course I have!" she snapped.

  "That would put you in danger."

  "Why?"

  "What do you mean why? I know you haven't forgotten that night when he attacked you." He was angry now.

  "I haven't forgotten anything, but no one that has been killed so far has had anything to do with the Dolocher."

  "And you think that will last?" he was looking at her intensely, and she thought she could see fear in his eyes at her recklessness and she felt foolish for thinking that she was safe.

  "I have to go," she said.

  "Kate, this killer is more dangerous than the Dolocher was," Edwards warned. She didn't want to ask why, to make this meeting last any longer than it already had. She looked up the road fearful that for some reason Tim might be coming down this way on some job or errand and would see her talking to Edwards. "This man is smart, and he wont be caught any time soon," he said, a note of finality in his voice that scared her, though she didn't know why.