moaning to herself. Reid led Mrs. Foster back to her bed.
“Are you going to be good, now? I don’t have to tie you down, do I?”
“No, dear, not me.” She pointed at Peg. “It’s her who’s the troublemaker. Tie her down.”
Peg shrank back, shaking her head. “Please, I was just trying to help Miss Anderson. Mrs. Foster was hurting her.” She spoke in her best English manner. “She began to sing and Mrs. Foster got angry.”
“And why shouldn’t I?” interjected the other woman. “That’s the third time this week she’s started bellowing and woken us all up. Listen to poor Mrs. Mallory over there.”
The two attendants exchanged glances and Mrs. Reid went over to Miss Anderson, who immediately became silent.
“It’s too early to be singing. You’re just being naughty. You can sing after dinner. Now do you promise to be a good girl and go back to sleep?”
Miss Anderson nodded, her blue eyes wide and bright above the gag. The attendant removed the linen strip from her mouth. She waited until the elderly woman lay down, patted her lightly on the head, and went back to Mrs. Foster’s bed. She brought her face so close their noses were almost touching.
“You will not move a muscle until morning bell or you will have only bread for breakfast. And tomorrow is Wednesday and it’s ham. You know how much you like ham, don’t you?”
Mrs. Foster nodded. “I have to use the commode.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, it’s coming fast.”
Reid sighed. “Very well.” She turned to the other attendant. “Thank you, Mrs. Furness, I think we’ll be all right. I’ll keep her with me until morning.”
“What about that one?” Furness indicated Peg, talking as if she were invisible.
“I just want to get back to sleep, if you don’t mind.” She suited her actions to her words and quickly got into bed and under the covers. Her legs were stinging from the scratches but she wasn’t about to add to the trouble by mentioning it.
Reid, who was the senior of the two, was satisfied, and holding Mrs. Foster by the arm, she led her away to the water closet. Furness wagged her finger in a warning at Peg and followed.
The room seemed to rock as unsteadily as a dinghy in the wake of a steamer. Peg lay staring at the ceiling.
Be calm. Think! You’ve got to think!
Chapter Fourteen
T HE CHAPEL AT H UMPHREY’S F UNERAL H OME was used regularly for coroner’s inquests because the post mortem examination could be easily conducted on the premises. The room was panelled in dark oak with a sober brown carpet and pews. A large portrait of Her Majesty and the prince consort, surrounded by their young children, was hung at the front of the room. Murdoch assumed Mr. Humphrey had chosen this particular reproduction because of the family aspect. Queen Victoria and Prince Albert as a source of parental comfort to the bereaved.
The chapel could comfortably hold about forty people but there were at least sixty jammed into the room, extra benches having been provided. Word had spread about Wicken’s death and Murdoch also recognised many of the people he had been questioning the previous day. There were four or five constables from the station and Inspector Brackenreid himself waspresent. He was looking quite disgruntled and Murdoch knew he considered Wicken to have brought disgrace to the force and particularly his station. He gave a curt nod as the detective went to take his seat near the front with the other witnesses.
In the first pew were the thirteen jurors. Murdoch slipped into the aisle seat in the second row and was almost knocked over by the various odours of camphor, violet pomade, and shaving soap. Several of the men had cleaned themselves up and taken out their Sunday-best suits, as befitted their important role in the proceedings.
Across from him was Oliver’s mother. She was in deep mourning and a heavy crepe veil fell to her shoulders. Her head was bowed and she was very still. She didn’t
“Are you going to be good, now? I don’t have to tie you down, do I?”
“No, dear, not me.” She pointed at Peg. “It’s her who’s the troublemaker. Tie her down.”
Peg shrank back, shaking her head. “Please, I was just trying to help Miss Anderson. Mrs. Foster was hurting her.” She spoke in her best English manner. “She began to sing and Mrs. Foster got angry.”
“And why shouldn’t I?” interjected the other woman. “That’s the third time this week she’s started bellowing and woken us all up. Listen to poor Mrs. Mallory over there.”
The two attendants exchanged glances and Mrs. Reid went over to Miss Anderson, who immediately became silent.
“It’s too early to be singing. You’re just being naughty. You can sing after dinner. Now do you promise to be a good girl and go back to sleep?”
Miss Anderson nodded, her blue eyes wide and bright above the gag. The attendant removed the linen strip from her mouth. She waited until the elderly woman lay down, patted her lightly on the head, and went back to Mrs. Foster’s bed. She brought her face so close their noses were almost touching.
“You will not move a muscle until morning bell or you will have only bread for breakfast. And tomorrow is Wednesday and it’s ham. You know how much you like ham, don’t you?”
Mrs. Foster nodded. “I have to use the commode.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, it’s coming fast.”
Reid sighed. “Very well.” She turned to the other attendant. “Thank you, Mrs. Furness, I think we’ll be all right. I’ll keep her with me until morning.”
“What about that one?” Furness indicated Peg, talking as if she were invisible.
“I just want to get back to sleep, if you don’t mind.” She suited her actions to her words and quickly got into bed and under the covers. Her legs were stinging from the scratches but she wasn’t about to add to the trouble by mentioning it.
Reid, who was the senior of the two, was satisfied, and holding Mrs. Foster by the arm, she led her away to the water closet. Furness wagged her finger in a warning at Peg and followed.
The room seemed to rock as unsteadily as a dinghy in the wake of a steamer. Peg lay staring at the ceiling.
Be calm. Think! You’ve got to think!
Chapter Fourteen
T HE CHAPEL AT H UMPHREY’S F UNERAL H OME was used regularly for coroner’s inquests because the post mortem examination could be easily conducted on the premises. The room was panelled in dark oak with a sober brown carpet and pews. A large portrait of Her Majesty and the prince consort, surrounded by their young children, was hung at the front of the room. Murdoch assumed Mr. Humphrey had chosen this particular reproduction because of the family aspect. Queen Victoria and Prince Albert as a source of parental comfort to the bereaved.
The chapel could comfortably hold about forty people but there were at least sixty jammed into the room, extra benches having been provided. Word had spread about Wicken’s death and Murdoch also recognised many of the people he had been questioning the previous day. There were four or five constables from the station and Inspector Brackenreid himself waspresent. He was looking quite disgruntled and Murdoch knew he considered Wicken to have brought disgrace to the force and particularly his station. He gave a curt nod as the detective went to take his seat near the front with the other witnesses.
In the first pew were the thirteen jurors. Murdoch slipped into the aisle seat in the second row and was almost knocked over by the various odours of camphor, violet pomade, and shaving soap. Several of the men had cleaned themselves up and taken out their Sunday-best suits, as befitted their important role in the proceedings.
Across from him was Oliver’s mother. She was in deep mourning and a heavy crepe veil fell to her shoulders. Her head was bowed and she was very still. She didn’t
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