The Klondike Mysteries 4-Book Bundle. Vicki Delany

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СКАЧАТЬ He had the sour expression of one whose ambitions have not quite panned out and who never allowed himself to forget it. “Your son can show us.”

      I ignored him. “Angus, go and get Ray.”

      “But, Ma.”

      “Now.”

      He ran out the door.

      The watchman gripped his empty glass and looked around for the bottle, which I’d closed and slipped under the counter before collapsing to the floor in a shocked stupor.

      “Gentlemen, follow me.” I led the way through to the back room and its macabre still life.

      “Jack Ireland,” Sterling said as the two Mounties approached the body. Despite my early outburst of bravado, I hung behind, back pressed against the wall.

      “You know him, Constable?” Sergeant Lancaster asked.

      “Yes, sir. American. Reporter. Only arrived in town day before yesterday. Saw him get off the boat myself.”

      “Pretty quick to make enemies, even for Dawson.” The sergeant chuckled. “Don’t suppose this was an accident, do you? Or a suicide?” His tone turned wistful.

      “’Fraid not.”

      “Someone had best fetch the inspector, then.”

      “Right.”

      “Won’t be happy to be roused out from his after-supper pipe.”

      “No, but he’ll be even less happy if we don’t call him.”

      This was starting to sound like a comedy act so dreadful, I wouldn’t allow it anywhere near my stage. I abandoned my refuge against the wall and stepped forward. I opened my mouth, while the words took shape behind my tongue. Don’t stand here blabbing, you fool. Find the killer! Arrest him! And I would have said something, had not Sterling looked at me. His face was wooden and more impassive than I’d ever seen it, but his eyes were full of compassion.

      “Someone has to go for the inspector,” Lancaster repeated.

      “I’ll fetch him,” Sterling said. “You guard the body.”

      The sergeant shivered at the thought. “No. I’ll go.”

      He touched his hat as he passed me. “What a fool,” I mumbled, once Lancaster was out of earshot.

      Sterling read my mind. Either that, or he has exceptionally good hearing. “He’s not a bad man, Sergeant Lancaster. They say he was headed for high rank, until he lost a company of new men, raw recruits, in a snowstorm.”

      “The boys died?”

      “No. Just fingers and toes lost to frostbite. But Lancaster blamed himself.” Sterling shrugged. “Killed his career all by himself, with regret and guilt. Or so they say. What do you make of this, Mrs. MacGillivray?”

      “What? Oh, Ireland. He’s dead.”

      “Thank you for that considered opinion.” Sterling knelt by the body. He didn’t touch anything, only looked.

      Reluctantly, I walked over to stand at the foot of the stage. “He was not a nice man, Mr. Ireland.”

      “You’re right about that. First, we’ll have to eliminate the handful of people who didn’t particularly want Ireland dead. Then we’ll be left with the majority of the population of Dawson.”

      Sterling stood up at the moment I leaned over to take a closer look, my churning stomach having settled down and my pesky curiosity taking control. Sterling was on the stage, and I stood on the first step. He loomed over me. All the inquisitiveness of a police officer fled from his perfectly structured face, his expressive eyes softened, and the edges of his mouth turned down. He lifted one hand as if he were about to touch the top of my head, to run his fingers through my hair.

      I had sworn that no one would ever again look down on me. My heart pounded, and I took a step backwards down the stairs.

      Heavy boots sounded on the floorboards in the gambling room. Sterling and I were facing the door when the men arrived. Angus and Ray came first, with Lancaster and his inspector close on their heels. The watchman followed.

      “Oh, for the love of God,” Ray said. “Jack Ireland, of all people.”

      “You know this man, Mr. Walker?” the inspector asked.

      “Jack Ireland, it is. He came in here for the first time only yesterday, maybe the day before. Spreading money around like he’d printed it himself.” Ray shook his head. “Fee, my dear, are you all right?”

      The inspector’s attention shifted. He nodded to me, the greased edges of an enormous handlebar moustache curling heavenward. I hate a moustache that requires artificial embellishment. “Perhaps the lady would be more comfortable sitting outside?”

      I peeked out from under my lashes. “I am feeling faint, sir.”

      “Constable!” he barked. “Escort Mrs. MacGillivray and her son home.”

      “If you don’t mind, Inspector,” I said, patting my chest to gather breath. “Perhaps Sergeant Lancaster would do me the courtesy. He has been so terribly gracious.” I smiled at them all.

      Ray raised his eyes to the roof.

      Lancaster tried not to look thrilled at being singled out and failed utterly.

      Richard Sterling and Angus MacGillivray looked at the body, both of them avoiding my face.

      “Very well.” The inspector was new in town, and I didn’t know his name—a substantial oversight on my part.

      “I’m sorry, sir, but I do not believe we’ve met?” I offered a slightly strained smile, which contained a hint of distress beneath a lady’s natural desire to be polite.

      “Inspector McKnight,” he said, with a smile almost as condescending as mine. And I knew that I’d best not play this man for a fool. “At your service, madam.” He was a scrawny fellow, about my height, with a pair of glasses so thick, he must be half-blind. But his eyes, enormous behind the lenses, were sharp and intelligent. “Who’s the fellow who found the body?”

      The watchman stepped forward, wearing nothing above the waist but his dirty undershirt. “This were how I found him, sir. I didn’t touch nothin’. Then I went and fetched Mrs. MacGillivray right away, Mr. Walker not bein’ available like.”

      “Mrs. MacGillivray?” Lancaster said, “shall we go?”

      “Angus?”

      “Please, can I stay, Ma? Mother, I mean. Ray might need me.” Angus looked around the room, seeking support. It came from an unexpected quarter.

      “Let the boy stay, Mrs. MacGillivray,” Richard Sterling said. “If Walker wants to get a message to you, Angus’ll be needed.”

      Angus beamed, looking more like an angel than the hard-hearted criminal investigator СКАЧАТЬ