But he couldn’t stop shaking. He was hungryand cold and afraid. He forced himself to stand up and examine thebody more carefully in the quickly expanding light. My God! thecloak was full of jagged slits, bloody and gaping where a daggerhad been plunged again and again. And Jesus, Jesus, the thing wasstill there, rammed to the hilt. And pinned to the cloak by itsblade was a sheet of white paper, torn across the bottom. Nestorwas no great reader, but the single word scrawled in scarlet on itwas instantly recognizable:
SODOMITE!
With his stomach heaving towards his throat,Nestor stumbled around to where the victim’s head should be. Heeased back the collar of the cloak. The head was there all right,squashed down against the gravel and pressed sideways. Nestor feltthe bile bubble into his throat. The socket where the right eyeshould have been was nothing but a bloody pulp.
The killer had plucked out the Yankeelawyer’s eye.
SIX
Less than half an hour later, Chief Constable WilfridSturges (nicknamed “Sarge” in honour of his stint in Wellington’sarmy), Dr. Angus Withers, the coroner, and constables Rossiter,Brown and Wilkie reached the gruesome scene. But it was HoratioCobb who had been the first to arrive, having been fetched from hispatrol by a street urchin dispatched by Simeon Galsworthy, thejeweller. The message had been garbled but alarming enough for Cobbto have the lad carry on to the police quarters to rouse the Chiefand whoever else might be needed. Between keeping the throng awayfrom the victim – and from any clues that might lie in the vicinity- and questioning an uncharacteristically reluctant and befuddledNestor Peck, Cobb had been kept busy until Chief Sturges popped upbehind him. And gasped at what he saw in the alley.
“Jesus, Cobb. I ain’t seen nothin’ like thissince my days in Portugal.”
“You ain’t seen the worst of it,” Cobb said,indicating Dougherty’s maimed face.
“And Nestor here found the body?”
“He did. And I’ve got everythin’ outta himwe’re likely to get.”
Sturges took out a coin and placed it inNestor’s still-trembling hand. “You go an’ get yerself somethin’ toeat or drink,” he said. “Then come down to the Court House thisafternoon. Gussie, my clerk, will need to record a statement ofwhat you saw. An’ we may have some more questions fer you.”
Rossiter and Dr. Withers came into the alleyjust as Nestor was making his way through the crowd, wondering ifhe would ever eat anything again and beginning to think of how -when he stopped shaking – he might turn this horror to hisadvantage at The Cock and Bull or The Crooked Anchor. Ewan Wilkie,the last of the regular constables to show up, was put to work withRossiter and Brown restraining the crowd, while Cobb and Sturgesset out to interview any of the neighbouring shopkeepers who mighthave been up early enough to spot the killer lurking about. Itseemed that the entire west end of the town had been roused. Butnone had been able to get close enough to ascertain any of thehorrific (and usable) details. That the victim was Dougherty wasself-evident, as was his fate.
Angus Withers finished his initialexamination of the body, and came up to Sturges and Cobb. “Six stabwounds in the back with that vicious dirk – short handle, long,thin blade. Pirate’s special. Any of those thrusts might have beenfatal, as they went through the lungs, but the deepest one seems tohave penetrated to the heart from the rear. I rolled him over justenough to determine that each thrust entered from the back. Theyare all jagged and wide, indicating that the attacker was in afrenzy, plunging the blade in, yanking it out, then plunging itback in again.”
“But the poor bastard fell diagonally intothe alley,” Sturges said. “How would the killer get him in thereand then manage to knife him from behind?”
“There’s a nasty-looking bump on his righttemple. I’d speculate that Dougherty – for there’s no doubt it ishe – was walking east along his usual route when the assassinstepped out of the shadows here and clobbered him with somethingsolid, like a rock. As the big man staggered under the blow, hecould have been pushed or manhandled into the alley, where hetoppled right here, facedown. After which, with the victimunconscious, the killer went about stabbing him – in some sort ofrage.”
When Sturges failed to do so, Cobb asked,“When did that – that business with the eye happen?”
“I’d say after he died. There’s littlebleeding about the gouged socket. I found the eyeball over by thewall there. Certainly he was rendered comatose by the initial blowto the temple. He never knew what was happening to him.”
“You mentioned Dougherty’s regular route,”Sturges said to Withers.
“That’s right,” Cobb interjected. “Some ofthis area’s on my patrol. Fer the past month or more, Dougherty’sbeen takin’ his mornin’ exercise along a precise route: down Bay toFront, over to Simcoe, north to King, back over to Bay an’ then onup to his cottage. I’ve never known him to vary it – rain, snow orotherwise. An’ many of the storekeepers, those who get up early,have mentioned it to me. They say they can set their clocks by hispassin’.”
“So a lot of people could have known exactlywhere he would be at a specific time?”
“That’s right. Which pins down the time ofthe murder right to the minute,” Cobb said, pleased at the easewith which such conclusions now flowed out – after four murderinvestigations carried out in tandem with the talented MarcEdwards.
“How do you figure that?” Withers said. “Ican only determine – from the state of the blood and thetemperature of the body – that it must have occurred no more thanan hour and a half ago. But that’s all.”
Cobb’s reply was swift and sure. “SimeonGalsworthy, the jeweller next door, told me that Dougherty jokedwith him one mornin’ when they met out front that he timed his walkevery day by checkin’ the big pendulum clock in the shop window.Seems he tried to rig his constitutional so he got here as close toseven-thirty as he could manage.”
“We’ll have to speak to Galsworthy an’anybody else livin’ within a block or so of this alley,” Sturgessaid.
“Whaddya make of that message stuck to him?”Cobb said to the coroner.
“It’s intended to look as if the killerscratched that obscenity in the victim’s blood,” Withers said.
“Intended?” Sturges said.
“It’s been written – before the event, Isuspect – in red ink with what looks like an artist’s brush. Damnghoulish, if you ask me. But it does suggest premeditation,eh?”
“As does this particular spot bein’ chosen,”Sturges said. “We’ll be lookin’ fer a fella who planned this aheadof time, wrote out a note, brought it along with his knife, pickedout a stone as his bludgeon, waited here fer seven-thirty to rollaround, then calmly carried out the deed – becomin’ enraged,perhaps, after he got started.”
“Or wanted us to think so,” Cobb said, withthe kind of devious logic Marc Edwards might have used.
“Well, we’ve got the means an’ opportunitypart,” Sturges mused, showing that he too had been listening to Mr.Edwards.
“And the motive, too – have we not?” Witherssaid, removing the dirk and the attached note, and drawing thecloak up over the body.
“Somebody who took offence at queers an’buggery,” Sturges said.
“That takes in most of the Christian folk inthis city,” Withers said.
“Can we trace the owner of the dagger?” Cobbsaid.
“Looks like the weapon favoured by sailors,”Withers said. “I’ve seen a hundred just like it in my timehere.”
“And I’ve pulled a few outta the mitts oftavern brawlers,” Cobb sighed.
“Dougherty certainly had his share ofdetractors,” Sturges said, “but he was still an important fella intown. An’ the gruesome details of this crime are bound to get out.”Sturges looked like a worried man.