The Klondike Mysteries 4-Book Bundle. Vicki Delany
Чтение книги онлайн.

Читать онлайн книгу The Klondike Mysteries 4-Book Bundle - Vicki Delany страница 31

Название: The Klondike Mysteries 4-Book Bundle

Автор: Vicki Delany

Издательство: Ingram

Жанр: Исторические детективы

Серия: A Klondike Mystery

isbn: 9781459723863

isbn:

СКАЧАТЬ impossible, on the Savoy stage, constructed of cheap wood and insufficient nails. He stood behind Richard Sterling and peered over the constable’s shoulder, swallowing the bile that rose into his throat, threatening to choke him, or worse.

      Sterling and McKnight were talking in low voices, as if they were mindful of showing respect to the dead. Sterling had pointed out that the wound in Ireland’s stomach wasn’t deep enough to kill. At least not right away. He would have died from it, eventually, if it had been left unattended. But not here, on the stage of the Savoy. With that wound, a healthy man could have staggered into the street looking for help. But the slice across the throat would have sent his lifeblood splashing across the stage in all directions. He wouldn’t have been able to stand up after suffering that.

      “You can look, Angus,” Sterling said, acknowledging the boy’s presence. “But mind you don’t touch anything.”

      Angus leaned closer to get a better look, trying to take it all in. His stomach was beginning to settle.

      “Had to have gotten a good amount of blood on his clothes,” Sterling said.

      “Agreed,” McKnight said.

      The doctor arrived in the company of Sergeant Lancaster. Breathing heavily from his exertions, Lancaster took a seat on the bench beside Ray. The doctor walked to the foot of the stage. “Dead, I’d say.”

      “Really, doctor,” McKnight said. “Is that your professional opinion?”

      “Don’t know why you dragged me away from my pipe,” the doctor grumbled. “The fellow’s obviously dead from a knife wound to the abdomen.”

      “If you could take a closer look?” Sterling asked.

      “No need.” The doctor snapped his fingers at the men who’d come in behind him. “He’s dead. I took the liberty of calling in at the funeral parlour on my way past. When you’re finished looking for clues, these men will take care of him. Drop by my office tomorrow during hours, and I’ll have the death certificate ready.” The doctor slapped his hat back on his head and started to leave, but he hesitated at the door. He walked over to Ray’s bench.

      “Perhaps I should call on Mrs. MacGillivray? I understand she found the body. She might be in need of sedation. Exposure to the brutal reality of life and death can be most upsetting to the delicate female constitution.”

      Ray yawned. “Right. I remember my mum. Gave birth to twelve children, buried nine o’ them, nursed my gran for months as her guts rotted inside o’ her, and then cared for my own dad when he died. Her delicate wee constitution almost cracked under the strain.”

      The doctor’s chest rose, and he puffed up all over, reminding Angus of a frog the boys had watched for what seemed like hours on a summer’s day at the creek behind his school in Toronto. “I was of course referring to the fact that Mrs. MacGillivray is a lady.”

      Angus held his breath, expecting that Ray would take offence at the blatant insult to his own mother. Instead, the Scotsman chuckled. “We know exactly what you were suggesting, Doc. Don’t we, lads?”

      The doctor’s eyes narrowed. He struggled to think of something appropriately cutting to say.

      “Thank you for your time, Doctor,” Sterling said. “An officer will be around tomorrow to get that certificate.”

      “Someone should check that man’s credentials,” Sterling said as the door swung closed behind the doctor. “He wouldn’t be the first fellow to arrive in Dawson pretending to be something he isn’t.”

      “I don’t think his intentions towards Mrs. MacGillivray are entirely honourable.” Sergeant Lancaster wagged a finger at Angus. “You watch out for him, young fellow. Until she marries again, it’s up to you to protect your mother’s reputation.”

      “I’m fully aware of that, Sergeant,” Angus said. And he was. At school, they’d lectured the boys extensively about a man’s responsibility to his mother, a God-given responsibility, particularly important in the case of a widowed mother such as Angus’s. But it was a hard job, in a place like Dawson, with the sort of company that came into the Savoy and the fact that, as a child, he wasn’t allowed to spend much time in the dance hall.

      McKnight rolled the body over, checking to see if there was anything underneath. There wasn’t and he let it fall back. The limbs were stiff, as if Jack Ireland were exerting all his control to keep them from moving.

      “What’s the matter with him, Constable Sterling?” Angus whispered, forgetting in his curiosity that he should be keeping quiet.

      “He’s dead, Angus,” Sterling said, not laughing.

      “I mean other than that, sir. Why are his arms so stiff? It looks like he’s frozen solid.”

      “Rigor mortis, son,” Inspector McKnight said, standing up with a soft grunt. “Happens in the hours after death. It wears off after a few days.”

      “Rigor helps us determine how long a man’s been dead,” Sterling explained. “It starts in the head and moves down. Now, Ireland here is pretty stiff most of the way down, but his feet still have a ways to go yet.”

      “So at a guess, I’d say he’s been dead anywhere from six to nine hours. No more than twelve. Constable?”

      “Probably, sir. But it would have been cold in here last night. Cold delays rigor. Might be more.”

      “Good point,” the inspector said.

      “Pardon me, sir, but that doesn’t seem quite so clever. It’s close to six o’clock now. Me and my ma found him around five. The Savoy was full of customers at midnight, and Ma and Mr. Walker and the staff would have been here for a while after that, say until about one. Anyone would’ve noticed a dead body lying in the middle of the stage. So he couldn’t have been killed more than sixteen hours ago. Common sense tells me that.”

      “That’s true, Angus,” Sterling said. “But suppose he wasn’t killed here, in the Savoy? Maybe he was killed a couple of days ago. I know everyone saw him here last night, but I’m saying suppose. And then the body was carried in here after closing?”

      “I see,” Angus said.

      “I’m guessing you want to be a Mountie, young man, and good for you,” McKnight said. “We could stand here all night talking about police methods and medical clues. But that’ll have to wait for another time.”

      Angus beamed. He had been included in the men’s talk, not sent home under his mother’s skirts.

      “His pocket watch is missing, Inspector,” Sterling said. “It was a good one?” “Looked good, but I didn’t see it close up. I think he had a diamond stickpin as well.”

      “Theft?” “On the stage of the Savoy, on a Sunday night? Unlikely Ireland would have wandered in here all on his own, to be waylaid by a pickpocket.”

      “Maybe someone wanted it to look like a theft gone wrong,” Angus suggested. “I read a story where that happened. Is there any money missing?”

      “No wallet,” McKnight said.

      “Ireland liked to flash his money around,” Sterling muttered. “He would СКАЧАТЬ