As he pushed through the crowd, Murdoch had to sidestep a man who had lifted a boy, presumably his son, onto his shoulders. The lad could have been no more than seven or eight and his face was alive with excitement as he swung his fists in mock battle, his father urging him on. Murdoch had a sudden memory of his own father taking him to see a prize fight when he was about eleven. It was a paltry affair compared with this one and took place in a local farmer’s field. Even to a young boy’s eyes, the two fighters seemed ridiculously mismatched, one of them a strapping blacksmith’s apprentice, the other a flabby, older man who had once been a champion. Harry had got them a place close to the ring, no beaters needed at this match. The ex-champion was canny and seasoned and at first that stood him in good stead, but after less than half an hour, the younger man’s better conditioning began to show. He landed blow after blow on his opponent’s face, closing both his eyes and causing his lips to puff out to twice their size. One blow landed square on the older man’s nose and as his head jerked backward, the blood spattered over young Will’s shoulders. Harry had laughed. “Got baptized, did you, son?” Murdoch couldn’t bear to let his father see how close he was to retching and he wiped off the blood as stoically as he could. The old champion’s seconds didn’t throw in the towel for another four or five rounds until the brawler’s face was no longer recognizably human. Later, Murdoch asked his father if the man had died. “No, but the poor bastard won’t be able to recognize his wife again,” was the reply.
The bruiser who had served as Lincoln’s other second blocked Murdoch’s entrance to the barn.
“No visitors. Sorry, mister.”
“I’m an acquaintance of Mr. Elijah Green. Tell him William Murdoch would like a word with him. He knows me.”
The man eyed him suspiciously, but he backed off.
“Wait here.”
In a few minutes, Green himself came to the entrance and stopped abruptly when he saw Murdoch. A few paces behind him was one of the young coloured men who had been standing aloof from the match, watching.
“Don’t worry, Green. I’m not going to arrest you, I wouldn’t be so foolish. I’m here unofficially.”
Green grimaced. “I didn’t think coppers were ever off duty if it suited them.”
“Well, this one is. Is there somewhere we can talk in private?”
“I suppose so.”
Green jerked his head in the direction of the man in his wake. “Jim, you stay on the gate. I’ll be back in a minute. Follow me, Mr. Murdoch.”
He led the way down the path. Fortunately, the crowd was drifting across the fields toward the carriages calmed by the fact that most of them had bet against Lincoln and had won their wager. A couple of men were taking down the chandelier and others were dismantling the ring.
They’d only gone a few feet when a man, thick-set, drunk and dirty, got in their path.
“Why’d you throw in the towel, Green? He could have gone on.”
“Not in my opinion,” said Green calmly. “He didn’t hardly know his name.”
“Lost me a lot of money.”
“That ain’t my fault, O’Rourke. It was a fair fight.”
The fellow didn’t budge. “So you say.”
He was shorter than Green but much heavier and there was a menace to him that Murdoch didn’t like. He’d met the man before. He stepped forward.
“You heard him. I saw it too. The Chopper landed a good one.”
Murdoch still had his muffler around his face so maybe his voice didn’t come out as strongly as it might have. The Irishman glared at him.
“I’m talking to this nigra, not you, whoever you are. Keep your nose out of it.”
Murdoch pulled away the scarf. “As a matter of fact, I have a very long nose. And I’m sticking it into your business. As I recall, Judge Robinson said the next time you were booked for taking wagers he’d make sure you were given the opportunity to visit Kingston.”
O’Rourke stared at him, the light was dim, only one lamp was left hanging on the nearby post.
“You’re a copper, ain’t you?”
“That’s right. Murdoch’s the name. Now like I just said to Mr. Green, I’m here unofficially so I can’t take you into custody for uttering threats or for taking wagers illegally, much as I would like to. But if you don’t bugger off I might suddenly find my badge.”
The Irishman muttered under his breath, looked as if he was considering defiance, then retreated.
“I thank you, Mr. Murdoch,” said Green. “I’m not in any mood to deal with the likes of him.”
They continued on the path that led to the rear of the barn. Here was another lantern and Murdoch could see a tethered horse and a carriage with the familiar yellow C painted on the side.
Green opened the door. “Come into my office.”
He climbed in and took a seat. Murdoch followed and sat across from him.
“What do you want to talk about, Mr. Murdoch? I can’t stay long. I’ve got to get Linc home.”
“I understand you’re managing prize fighters.”
Green looked weary. “I wonder who told you that? At a guess, I’d say it was Musgrave.”
“Is that what you do in the barn when nobody’s there? With the skipping rope? Very good exercise, that. And the Indian clubs.”
“You’ve got to keep yourself fit in my line of work. Training’s not illegal.”
“But taking a horse and carriage without permission is. It’s called theft.”
Green smiled. “I had permission. Daniel Cooke gave that to me a couple of years ago. ‘Take the carriage whenever you need, Elijah,’ were his very words. Let’s say it was a barter. He paid me next to nothing and in return I could have use of the horses as I needed. I have to travel around to find good venues and to see other fighters. I saw no reason not to pass on my opinions as to who might win to Mr. Cooke.”
“Do you have that agreement in writing?”
“No. It was a gentleman’s agreement.”
“Did he come to the fights with you?”
Green sat back so that Murdoch could hardly make out his face. “Sometimes.”
“Musgrave says he heard you quarrelling about one of the fights. Cooke wanted you to fix it so that your brother lost. Is that true?”
“If I say yes, I can be charged with running an illegal game. You might put your badge on. As it is, I’m claiming what you’ve seen is just one of many sports that gentlemen come to for pleasure. Nobody can say one way or the other, now can they?”
“Cooke’s death could be convenient for you.”
“The opposite, Mr. Murdoch,” Green answered sharply. “First of all, who will believe he had given me permission about the carriages? Not his wife, I’m sure. If she knew I was here, she’d probably have me arrested.”
“She does know. Musgrave brought her.”
Green’s shoulders sagged. “Is she charging me with theft?”
“Frankly, I don’t know what she’s going to do. She said she wanted to consider the matter.”
Green stared at Murdoch. “Did she now? I wonder what that means? From what I know about the lady, it won’t be good.” He peered out of the window at the now-empty field.
“You can always leave,” said Murdoch.
“Not now. She’ll make sure I never work anywhere else. She’s got me fast.”
“It’s my impression she won’t stop you from the fights. Perhaps the opposite.”
Green digested that. Neither possibility was a good one.
Murdoch didn’t know if there was anything he could do about it. On the other hand, he might have a little leverage over Mrs. Cooke himself.
“Is that everything? I should see to Lincoln.”
“In a minute. I’m curious about that paper Crabtree found in your box. The words have a different look to them now I’ve seen this fight. Were they really copy for your son?”
“Just that. I took some words from Mendoza’s papers. He was a celebrated man of the ring, an excellent fighter. Lincoln and I have been studying him. My Donnie is interested in the old sport, so I thought I’d give him the words to learn. Believe me, it had nothing to do with plotting Mr. Cooke’s death, as your constable suspected.”
“And the bloody sacking?”
“Just what I said. I had to bleed Bendigo’s abscess. Why waste good sacking?”
Gingerly, he touched the bump on his forehead. “Now this I was fabricating just a bit. The beam I said I walked into was Lincoln’s fist when we were sparring.” He shifted. “I must go now.”
“Sorry, I’m not quite done. First, I wanted to let you know I was sorry about what happened to Thomas Talbert.”
Green rubbed his hand over his face. “I’d almost put that out of mind with the fight happening, but I must say I was mighty shocked when I heard. Thom was nobody’s enemy.”
“At least one person’s, I’m afraid.”
“But he didn’t have much money, I’m sure.”
“It wasn’t a robbery. There were banknotes dropped on his body, obviously deliberately. All small denominations amounting to forty dollars.”
Murdoch was watching Green, but the man seemed genuinely bewildered. “What was the point of that? Oh no, don’t tell me you’re connecting it with some kind of wager?”
“Judas betrayed our Lord for forty pieces of silver. I was wondering if there was a message in that money. An indication of betrayal.”
“You’ve lost me, detective. What sort of betrayal?”
“I don’t know.” Murdoch took his sketch out of his pocket and held it in front of the lantern. “After death, Mr. Talbert was tied into this position.”
Green studied the drawing and Murdoch saw that tears had sprung to his eyes. “Was he, indeed? Such desecration to an innocent old man, I don’t understand.”
Murdoch replaced the sketch in his pocket. “Nor do I, at the moment. Was Mr. Talbert ever mixed up in placing bets on the fights?”
“No. He came to one about a year ago and said it made no sense to him to see two sane, healthy men who had no grudge with each other try to batter the other into raw meat.”
Murdoch was of much the same opinion, but he didn’t comment.
“I know Constable Burley already asked you this, but since you talked to him, has anything come to you? Any suspicions? Anything at all?”
Green shrugged. “If Cooke hadn’t been done in first, I might have pointed the finger at him. There was some enmity between them. They didn’t hardly see each other, mind, but sometimes Thom would drop a comment about Mr. Cooke that would have set light to straw and Mr. Cooke never seemed comfortable around him. I couldn’t understand it. Another owner would have got rid of Thom, I suppose, but Mr. Cooke kept him on. He wasn’t even that good a worker any more. I often had to do his job over again.”
They heard somebody calling. “Murdoch, where the hell are you?”
Murdoch looked out of the window. Musgrave, swinging a lamp, was walking around the field.
“You’d better see to your brother,” he said to Green. “If he’s not back to his normal self tomorrow, I want you to take him to a physician I know, a Dr. Ogden on Gerrard Street. I’ll speak to her. She won’t ask difficult questions.”
“Thanks, but he’ll be all right. He’s tough as shoe leather. It’s all part of the game. Next time, he’ll learn to be more careful. The Chopper just got in a lucky blow.” He hesitated. “What are you going to do? Are you going to arrest me?”
“That’s the second time you’ve asked me that. I’m starting to think you’re hankering after the good cooking in the Don Jail.”
Green managed a grin. “Not likely.”
“No, I’m not going to arrest you. I’m not here officially, as I said. It all looked like good clean fun for gentlemen to enjoy to me. I didn’t see any money changing hands.”
Green offered his hand. “Thank you. If I can return the favour sometime I will.”
“You can help me get back to the city. I don’t fancy an hour in the carriage with Mrs. Cooke.”