CRABTREE’S NAB WAS SITTING on the bench a few feet from an elderly lady and a young boy. He was indeed moaning, the woman was weeping rather noisily, and the boy was trying to comfort her, also loudly. She was in full widow’s weeds with a long black crepe veil that covered her face and fell as far as her waist. The boy was also in black with knickerbockers and jacket. A velvet cap was pulled down low and the lower part of his face was wrapped in a black scarf so that only his eyes were visible.
“Grandma, hush. Here’s the detective come to talk to you.”
She turned in the direction of the door, although Murdoch was coming from the hall behind the counter.
He walked over to her. Her grandson was speaking so loudly, Murdoch assumed the old lady was deaf and he too raised his voice.
“Mrs. Shorter, I’m Detective Murdoch. I wonder if you could tell me what happened.”
He glanced over at the man, who had sunk back on the bench and buried his face in his muffler.
“My grandma is too upset to talk much,” said the boy. “She don’t want to press charges. We have to get back to the train station before three o’clock.”
Murdoch sat on the bench beside the old woman who was staring straight ahead. He couldn’t make out her face through the dark veil, but he could see she was trembling. He tried to speak gently, which was difficult at full volume.
“Mrs. Shorter, your purse was stolen and we have caught the thief. You won’t have to stay long if we write up a charge. You’ll just have to sign it. Why should he get away with frightening elderly citizens?”
“I’m blind, I didn’t see him,” she said, her voice was shrill.
“I realize that. But we have other witnesses. And your grandson must have seen him.”
The boy shook his head, still focused on his grandmother. “No I didn’t. I was looking after grandma when she fell down. Then I saw a man running away and men yelling and chasing after him. I just thought he hadn’t been looking where he was going and knocked her over.”
“Then you saw that your grandmother’s purse had gone.”
“I noticed it then, but she could have lost it earlier.”
The woman stretched out her hand in search of her grandson’s and he clasped it tightly.
“I’m a Christian woman, Mr. Murdoch,” she said, “and I believe that we should forgive those that trespass against us. If indeed this young man did rob me, I have my purse returned, I am not harmed, and that is all that matters. There was nothing in it but some streetcar tickets and a little change. We really do have to catch our train, my daughter is expecting us.”
Murdoch peered at her, but her face was obscured by the thick crepe veil. Then he glanced over his shoulder at the thief. In spite of his attempt to burrow into his collar, Murdoch could see a broad forehead and ragged sandy-brown hair.
Mrs. Shorter went to stand up, but Murdoch blocked her with his arm.
“Why do I have the impression we have met before?”
She recoiled, bowed her head briefly, then with one swift movement, she jerked upward, threw off his arm, shoved him away from her, and kicked him hard in the shins. With a yell to the boy, she ran for the door. Startled by the pain, he couldn’t move fast enough. Somerset tried to follow her, but even though he hopped with astonishing speed, he was no match for Crabtree, who got him from behind. The woman would have got away, but her long veil, flowing out behind her, caught on the edge of the stove in the centre of the room. The bonnet came off, but it was tied underneath her chin and she was stopped in her tracks, giving Murdoch a chance to seize her arm and twist it behind her back.
She cried out in pain, but as it was now obvious she was no old woman, he held on. In the meantime, Gardiner and Callahan had run from behind the counter to help. The sergeant grabbed the boy, who fought desperately, until Callahan managed to hold his legs and Gardiner pinned his arms. In minutes the struggle was over.
“Mrs. Shorter, or should I say, Mrs. Pierce?” shouted Murdoch. “Whoever the hell you are, you’re under arrest,” He was panting from the struggle and the rush of anger beyond his control at the painful kicks that had been inflicted on him. “I’m going to let go of you so I don’t break your arm, but if you move a muscle, you will be cuffed. Do you understand?” He gave her a little shake that made her yelp again. “Do you understand?”
“Leave her alone,” yelled the boy and he somehow jerked out of the grasp of both constables who were holding him and ran to help the woman. His cap had fallen off and Gardiner grabbed him by the hair, shoved him to the floor, then dropped, putting his knee on the boy’s back. He administered a couple of hard slaps to his head while Callahan once more held on to the boy’s ankles. Murdoch let go of the woman’s arm and shoved her onto the bench.
“Let him go,” she screamed at the other two officers.
She probably would have got up again, but Murdoch yelled at the top of his voice.
“Stay there.” He looked over his shoulder. “Sergeant, let him get up.”
Gardiner looked as if he was going to defy him, but then he reluctantly got off the boy and stepped back, clearly ready to pounce again if necessary. Callahan released the lad’s ankles and also stood back.
“You, boy, come over here and sit beside your mother,” said Murdoch.
Now that she had lost her black bonnet and veil, the woman’s dark hair was revealed. She was not in the least elderly, probably in her thirties, maybe even younger but she had no teeth, which aged her face considerably. The boy’s face had gone quite white and a bruise was vivid above his eye. He looked unsteady, but he rushed over to her and she pulled him close to her side. Both of them sat staring at Murdoch with a mix of defiance and fear. The third member of the little trio wasn’t saying anything. He wasn’t that tall a man and Crabtree, who had pulled his arms back and put the cuffs on him, towered over him.
“Now then. The excitement’s over,” said Murdoch. “Madam, do I have your word, you won’t try to make a bolt for it?”
“I’d sooner trust a rabid fox,” said Gardiner. “Put the cuffs on her. And the whelp.”
The woman had stepped across the line from respectable victim to criminal scum in his eyes. He started over to them but Murdoch warned him off.
“It’s all right, I’ll deal with it.” He addressed the woman. “Shall I call you Mrs. Shorter or Mrs. Pierce?”
“Whatever you like. It don’t matter to me.”
“So neither one is your real name?”
She shrugged.
“Look, ma’am, you’re going to have to talk to me sooner or later. You delivered some pretty vicious kicks to my shin and I could lay charges against you that would have you in the Mercer for a couple of years. Your lad would go to the industrial school and I doubt he’d like that.” Murdoch nodded at the other man. “Is he your husband?”
“Not him. I’ve never seen him before. And you can’t charge me with nothing. You grabbed ahold of me and I was just defending my honour.”
“You were pretending to be blind and you claimed this man had robbed you.”
“I didn’t say he’d robbed me. And there’s no harm in pretending to be blind. It ain’t a crime. It was just a game I was playing with Tim.”
“I see. This isn’t the first time you’ve been in a police station, I take it?”
“’Course it is. And it will be last, the treatment you coves dish out. I’ll speak to the chief himself, I will.”
The preposterousness of the statement made Murdoch grin. He couldn’t help it.
“I tell you what, ma’am. This has been very strenuous. I, for one, need a cup of tea. Give me a name that I can call you by for politeness’ sake and I’ll have our constable here make us a pot. What do you say?”
“Are you going to charge me?”
“I haven’t heard your story yet, nor your friend’s.”
Gardiner was still hovering behind Murdoch, his face dark with anger. “’Course he’s going to charge you. You and your bastard assaulted police officers.”
The lad had an angry red mark on his cheek where Gardiner had hit him.
“I’ll handle it, sergeant.” Murdoch turned back to the woman. “Given that this is a public hall and we need some privacy, I suggest we have our tea in one of our jail cells.”
“All three of us?”
“Yes.” She was about to protest but he held up his hand. “I know, I know. This man is a complete stranger. But as this is the second time I’ve seen you in the same company, I don’t believe you. You’re queer plungers and your names are on a bill that I was just looking at on Monday.”
The woman’s eyes scanned the men gathered around her. Gardiner, red-faced and angry, Callahan eager for another fray, Crabtree just very large.
“All right, me name’s Bagley, Mrs. Olivia Bagley. This is my nipper, Tim, and that’s Ed Parker, a friend.”
The redhead gave Murdoch a knuckle salute like a sailor.
Still keeping a wary eye on the woman, Murdoch said, “George, remove the cuffs from Mr. Parker and then escort him to the rear cell. Get him a cold bandage and some opium lotion if you can find it for his ankle. Mrs. Bagley, you and Tim follow behind Constable Crabtree and I will walk behind you. One move in any other direction and I will put the cuffs on. You can’t get away, there are four of us here.”
“Can I have me bonnet? It cost a dollar.”
“Constable Callahan, will you hand the lady her bonnet. It’s over by the stove.”
The clerk did as he was asked and gingerly held out the hat to the woman. Then, led by Crabtree and the silent Mr. Parker, limping painfully, they moved slowly down the hall.