Читать книгу The Klondike Mysteries 4-Book Bundle - Vicki Delany - Страница 26

I sat on the hard, uncomfortable bench and looked around the empty dancehall. The benches were pushed up against the walls, except for two that had been placed in the middle of the room, for some reason. A mouse scurried across the floor and jumped up the stairs onto the stage. Its whiskers twitched cautiously and, catching sight of me out of the corner of its black button eyes, it disappeared into a crack that at a casual glance appeared to be far too small to accommodate its chubby frame. My stomach rolled over at the thought of what the creature might discover in the dark, empty space underneath the stage.

I fled.

Ray Walker was sitting at the big table in the centre of the room, reading my ledger. He looked up when I came in. “Not a good idea, Fee me dear, to leave the accounts spread open on the table with the door unlocked and not a soul in sight. Ye don’t look well. Rough night?”

“Oh, shut up.” I slammed the ledger shut.

“Rough night,” he said.

I placed my hands on the table and leaned forward. “What do you know about Jack Ireland’s body being found in the Savoy? If you know anything, you’d better tell me.” Helen came out of the back with a tray. “Coffee!” I said. “How lovely!”

I threw my body into a chair with so much force, my tailbone groaned in protest. “I told Helen about the unfortunate events of yesterday. She’ll have the stage as clean as a whistle by opening. And biscuits too, isn’t that nice.”

Ray accepted his coffee with a tight smile. He might think I looked awful, but I hope that as far as my appearance is concerned, awful is a relative term. Ray himself looked like he’d been dragged out of a snowdrift and left to thaw in front of a one-twig fire.

Coffee served, Helen retreated to her back room.

“These biscuits are as tough as hard tack,” Ray mumbled. “They could be used to stake out a man’s claim.”

“Will you shut up about biscuits and how the hell I look. I want to know what you know about the murder of Jack Ireland, and I want to know it now.”

Ray’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you asking me this, Fee?” Helen’s bucket clattered as she dragged it out of her storage closet. Ray and I smiled at her. She disappeared into the back rooms.

“I’m asking you,” I whispered, “because if you’re involved, I’m going to be dragged through the muck with you, and I’d prefer to avoid that.”

“Now, I wasn’t there, but folks told me the last words anyone heard from Jack Ireland was that he was going to get you, Fee. So I’m thinking you may have had more reason to want the man dead than I did.”

“Me! You can’t turn this back on me!”

“Come on, Fee. There are parts of your life you don’t want exposed to the world.”

“Now see here, Ray Walker! Constable Sterling, what brings you out so early this fine morning?” Sterling stood in the doorway, blocking the morning sun. “If you two are having a business meeting, I can wait here. Pay me no mind.”

“Please join us. Would you care for coffee? It’s fresh. Let me pour you a cup.”

“That would be nice, Mrs. MacGillivray. Thank you.”

The Mountie pulled up a chair. “Morning, Walker.” “Morning.”

I sprinted into the broom closet and grabbed a cup from the cupboard. I couldn’t find a saucer, too bad. My heart was pounding in my chest, and not from that minuscule bit of exercise.

“Have you made an arrest yet, Constable?” I put the cup down on the table and poured the coffee. “Please, have a biscuit. Made fresh this morning.”

“I’ve come to talk to Mr. Walker,” Sterling said. “About the events of Saturday night.” He selected a biscuit, which is what the Canadians call a “cookie”. Horrible word. Belongs in the nursery, not as a part of polite, adult conversation.

Ray leaned back in his chair. “Busy night, Saturday. Always is.”

“Everyone’s trying to soak up enough drink and dances and spins of the wheel to see them all the way through to Monday,” I added.

Ray eyed me. “Really, Fiona? Is that what they’re doing?”

Sterling cleared his throat. “Tasty cookie this,” he said, trying to stifle a grimace of distaste and avoiding my eyes as he put the remaining half back onto the table. Goodness, he thought I had made them.

I once boiled an egg. Forgot about it and left the pot over the fire until all the water had evaporated. The egg exploded as I reached into the burnt pot to take it out. I never dared to try cooking again. I wouldn’t call the horrid food I managed to scrape together on the Chilkoot trail cooking. Angus had to intervene out of sheer desperation.

“Can you tell me any more about what happened on Saturday, Walker, Mrs. MacGillivray?” Sterling pulled a small note pad and a stub of pencil out of his tunic pocket.

“Where’s Inspector McKnight today?” I asked, dipping my biscuit into the coffee to soften it. “I expected he would be the one looking into Ireland’s death.”

“Who said anything about Jack Ireland? I only asked you about the events of Saturday night.”

“Oh, don’t play clever with me, Constable Sterling. You don’t come in every morning to join us for coffee and chat about our business.”

He grinned, and I remembered last night and that brief moment standing on the steps of the stage, with a dead body lying at our feet, when I had thought he was going to touch me.

“McKnight is pursuing other lines of inquiry. He’ll be around later to talk to you. This isn’t Alaska; we don’t have many murders in the Yukon. Ireland is the first this year, and the boss is determined it’ll be the last. Now, about Saturday?”

Ray shrugged. “Told you all about it last night.”

“So you did. But I’d like you to tell me again.”

“Ireland wanted to keep dancing after his minute was up. He wouldn’t let go of the girl and objected when I told him to leave. So he got thrown out. That’s about it.”

Sterling lifted one eyebrow. “Was Jack Ireland here for long?”

“I seem to think he might have been. Did you see him, Fee?”

“Oh, for pity’s sake, Ray. It probably took the Constable less than a minute to find out precisely when Ireland was here and what transpired. People will have been talking about nothing else, and no doubt the story is growing bigger and more extravagant every minute.”

Helen clattered back through the bar carrying her pail and a dripping mop. Liquid sloshed in the bucket, and the contents of my stomach rose into my throat. I averted my eyes. “Jack Ireland made quite the nuisance of himself. He insulted one of my girls and tried to start a fight when Ray stepped in, which is, as you are no doubt aware, part of his responsibilities here. Mr. Ireland was escorted to the door and politely told never to return.”

“As you said, Mrs. MacGillivray, the men are talking about little else. I dropped in to a couple of the dance halls on my way over here. I’ll admit that the story gets more interesting in the telling. They’re saying that Walker would have kicked Ireland to death if you hadn’t intervened. Isn’t that taking things beyond your job, Walker?”

Ray growled.

“Exaggeration, of course, Constable. Ray was, naturally, extremely angry at the insult to the dancer. An insult that was accompanied by an act of physical violence. Ray takes the girls’ welfare to heart. Don’t you, Ray?”

“I’m inclined to believe you, Mrs. MacGillivray,” Sterling said. “Bar gossip is about the most unreliable evidence the police can get. The men are saying you put Ireland onto the floor yourself before Walker intervened, and that you single-handedly dragged Walker off of Ireland.”

I laughed lightly and waved my hand in the air. “You see the things you might start to believe if you listen to gossip.”

“Which lady was it, Mr. Walker, who Ireland offended?”

Ray said nothing.

“Irene,” I said.

“Irene?”

“Irene.”

“Irene what, Mrs. MacGillivray? What’s her last name?”

“Davidson.”

Sterling wrote in his notebook.

I was about to make my excuses and take my leave when he spoke again. “People are also saying that you’re very fond of Irene Davidson, Walker. A fondness that she doesn’t appear to return. They say you weren’t happy about the attentions Ireland paid her. He promised to take her to San Francisco and make her a famous actress, or so they say.”

Ray said nothing. I wanted to shake some sense into him. He was a suspect in this killing, and his sullen refusal to speak up didn’t show him in a good light.

“Did Ireland have reason to believe that Irene Davidson might give him more dances than he paid for?”

“Unfortunately, he may have,” I said. Obviously the man knew everything, no point in pretending otherwise. “I believe they spent some time together the previous evening, after closing. Perhaps he thought that gave him the right to certain liberties.”

“Gossip, Fee.” Ray was not doing a very good job of hiding his anger at the direction in which these questions were heading. “Now you’re the one spreading gossip.”

“Sorry, I didn’t quite get that, Mr. Walker.”

“He accused me of listening to gossip. Which I never do. Much too common.” I glared at Ray. He threw daggers back. We must have presented an interesting sight to the observant constable.

I waited for Sterling to ask me what else I knew about Irene’s involvement with Ireland. A meaningless phrase like “spent some time together” covered a lot of sins. But his focus shifted.

“At what time did this trouble take place?” “At about, ahem, the time you arrived to watch us closing down.”

“I didn’t see you, Walker. In fact, a couple of your bartenders were showing Mr. Ireland the door. Under Mrs. MacGillivray’s supervision, if I remember correctly. Where were you at the time?”

“Supervising the closing of the gambling rooms, of course,” I answered for my taciturn partner. “Precisely where he would be expected to be at that time of the night.” I opened the inexpensive watch I keep pinned at the waist of my dress when I’m working. “Goodness me, look at the time. Almost opening. If you have no more questions, Constable?” I got to my feet and gathered up my ledger and pen.

Clearly, Sterling had plenty more questions, but he was too well brought up to remain seated when a lady got to her feet. Unlike Ray, who remained slumped over the table.

I tossed the constable a demure smile and dared to flutter my eyelashes. But only once. “I can’t tell you how pleased I am that you’re investigating this horrid business so seriously, Constable Sterling. That such a thing could happen in our establishment is simply beyond belief. Isn’t it, Ray? Ray!” If my partner had been any closer, I would have kicked him.

“You can count on me to do my duty, Mrs. MacGillivray.” Sterling tucked his notebook and pencil back into the pocket of his scarlet tunic. “Inspector McKnight will want to speak to you later. And you too, Walker.”

“I can be found in my office every morning from nine o’clock until shortly before noon, unless I’m running errands. He’s welcome to call on me then.”

Sterling nodded politely, put his hat on his head and made for the door.

I tossed the ledger on the table, collapsed back into my chair, and took a deep breath. “What the bloody hell’s the matter with you, Ray?”

“Lucky the constable isn’t here, Fee. He’d have you up on charges for language like that.”

“Damn the constable.”

The corners of my partner’s mouth turned up.

“Don’t you understand what’s at stake here?” I said. “There hasn’t been a single murder in Dawson this year. And this one happens right in the middle of our place. The police will be dead keen to solve it. Fast. I wouldn’t trust that McKnight not to pick the first available suspect and drag him off to a hanging.”

“Or her?”

“What?”

“Or drag her off to the hanging, Fee.”

“Are you saying they’re going to investigate me?”

“No, I’m not. Sterling wouldn’t arrest you if he came upon you up to your elbows in blood dissecting the corpse with a paring knife.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I didn’t kill Ireland, Fee.”

“But…”

“But I don’t want the police investigating Irene, that’s all.”

I couldn’t see why they would think Irene had murdered anyone. We’d thrown Ireland out, hadn’t we? Irene would scarcely have come back to the deserted Savoy the next day to meet up with him once again.

Would she?

Why was Ray so worried about her? Or was he? Maybe he was trying to be clever: throw suspicion on Irene so that everyone would think he was protecting her. What nonsense. My imagination was galloping away with me.

“If there is anyone in this town who didn’t want Jack Ireland dead, I’ll stand him to a month of drinks,” I said. “I have to get over to the bank. Constable Sterling is much too polite to make any sort of a detective. He could have pushed us a lot harder.”

The edges of Ray’s mouth lifted a fraction higher. “Only with you, Fee. Only with you.”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing. Where’s Angus this morning?”

“Working. He has a job helping Mr. Mann at the store.”

Helen came into the room, her steps hesitant, wondering if it was safe. As the police had gone and Ray and I didn’t appear to be about to rip each other’s throats out, she started to pile the abandoned coffee things onto her tray. She eyed the plate of largely untouched biscuits. “No one hungry this morning? Not to worry. Murder does that to a person’s appetite. They’ll keep nicely for your afternoon tea, Mrs. Mac.”

Ray stifled a laugh.