Chapter Thirty-five
ALMOST AT A TROT, Murdoch headed over to Church Street where he could catch a northbound streetcar. He was also anxious to talk to young Billy. The lad was at the same spot, and when he saw Murdoch he called out.
“More letters for me, Mister?”
“No. I just want to make sure you delivered the one I gave you.”
“I did. No gammon. I did exactly what you asked.” He grinned cheekily. “If I told you how she was, will you give me another nickel?”
“Maybe. Depends if it’s worth it. But the truth only. No fibbing. Was she pleased?”
“She was and she wasn’t. When I said the letter was from you, she looked alarmed. You know, as if you was going to write something bad that she didn’t want to hear. Then she stood there and read it and she looked happy; then she looked sad again.”
Billy was suiting his facial expressions to his words so that the contortions made Murdoch laugh even though he didn’t like it that Enid had looked sad.
“Did she say anything?”
“She thanked me kindly for bringing the letter. She talks in a funny way, doesn’t she? Like she’s singing. ‘Thank you, young man. I am obliged to you.’” He gave such a perfect imitation of Enid’s Welsh accent that Murdoch laughed again.
“Hey, mind your manners, fellow.”
The arab was studying him shrewdly. “I should tell you, Mr. Murdoch, you’ve got a rival, a masher.”
“What are you talking about?”
“’S true. He must have seen you give me the note. I hardly got round the corner there when he was on me. He offered me twenty-five cents if I’d tell him who you were.”
“And did you?”
“Not me. ‘Why do you want to know?’ I asks.” He squinted up at Murdoch. “Shall I tell you what he says?”
“You’d better!”
“All right, you don’t need to blow. He says, ‘Because I have reason to believe that man is of a suspicious character, and if you are carrying a letter for him it could get you in trouble with the law.’”
“What! Who the hell was this fellow?”
“I told you, he’s trying to shove you out with your lady. That was just guff he was giving me about suspicious character.”
Murdoch frowned. “Did you tell him my name?”
“’Course I did. I says, ‘You’ve got it all wrong, Mister. He’s the law himself. He’s a Detective, name of Murdoch.’”
The boy was grinning at Murdoch triumphantly.
“Get on with it, Billy, for the Lord’s sake.”
“That stops him right in his tracks. ‘Can I have a peek at the note?’ he asks, which was when I knew he was trying to move in on your lady. ‘Not a chance,’ says me. ‘This is private for her eyes only.’ ‘Very well,’ he says, ‘I am mistook in my suspicions,’ and off he goes.”
Murdoch stared at the boy, who immediately shifted his glance.
“You’re a little liar. You showed him the letter, didn’t you?”
Billy flinched away from the raised hand. “No, I didn’t. I swear, Mister.”
Murdoch stepped back, ashamed of his sudden temper.
“Can you describe him to me?”
“He wasn’t anything special. Not as tall as you. Brown moustache. He had on one of those waterproofs with a cape. He wasn’t no swell, but he didn’t look hard up either. Spoke sort of soft.” The boy regarded Murdoch anxiously. “That’s all I noticed, honest.”
“You were probably staring at his money, that’s why.”
Billy flushed and once again, Murdoch felt ashamed of himself. He cuffed the boy lightly on his arm.
“It’s all right. I’d be the same if I was in your shoes.”
“I just remembered something,” Billy said. “He took off his glove to pay me, and he had the top of his finger missing. This one.”
He held up the middle finger of his left hand. Murdoch stared at the boy.
“You’re not having me on, are you?”
“No, sir. I swear that’s what I saw. This finger.”
“All right, I believe you. If he comes and talks to you again, let me know at once. You can come to the station. They’ll take down a message. Don’t look so nervous. If you’ve got a clean conscience, nothing will happen to you.” Murdoch fished another couple of pennies out of his pocket. “Here. Add that to your haul.”
At that moment a carriage stopped at the kerb, and an elderly man leaned out of the window, snapping his fingers at the lad to clear a path to the hotel door.
“Yes, sir. Here we go.”
Billy jumped to the command, and Murdoch left him to it and continued on his way. Unless there had been an epidemic of amputations of middle fingers in the city, he assumed this man was the same one who had negotiated hiring Gargoyle for Mr. Pugh. Sam Quinn must have let it leak out why he was inquiring. Trying to stop gossip among the Fancy was as impossible as trying to stop fleas hopping from dog to dog.
He wondered how the man had tracked him down. It was also embarrassing to think of another man reading his tenderest thoughts, but there was little doubt the boy had shown him the letter. How could he resist such an offer when it meant a night’s lodging to him? On the other hand, maybe it was strictly a coincidence about the dogs, and this man was truly a rival. As far as he knew, Enid had had no callers all the while she lived at the Kitchens’, and it seemed unlikely. So either the “bland as blancmange” stranger was interested in knowing about Murdoch because he was Enid’s suitor or because he was investigating the Delaney case. Both possibilities troubled him.