Hunting Down the Darkness Read online

  “Was she hurt?”

  “No, but she could have been, that’s the point.”

  “Did Muc see the man chasing her then? Did he recognize him?”

  “No, he didn’t see anything; he was blind drunk, same as ever!” Kate said exasperated.

  “Well, I'm sorry to hear Mary got a fright, but I don’t see what any of this has to do with me,” he said getting back to the point. Kate was happy to see both his tone and demeanour had improved since she first came in. It was upsetting in a way as it reminded her of how good a man he was inside.

  “We need your protection,” she said. He looked at her with a quizzical expression but she did not go on.

  “How would you suppose I do that?” he asked. “I’ve well learned my lesson about going around at night looking for killers. I won’t be doing it again.”

  “I’m not asking you to do that,” Kate said.

  “Then what?”

  “I don’t know,” Kate said, “I mean, if we need you, will you help us?” He looked at her in a way she couldn’t read.

  “If you’re in trouble near the shop or my home, I can help you, but if I’m not where you are, I can’t.” It was such a simple, logical statement but it meant the world to Kate. This was a breakthrough, however small.

  “I know I'm not making sense to you right now, but I appreciate this, Tim,” she said. He nodded.

  There was a silence between them.

  “They let the man out of the Black Dog today,” he said, “The one who was arrested in Angel Alley.”

  “I heard that,” Kate said, “That’s what made up my mind to come and talk to you.” It was a lie, but only a little one.

  “Try not to read too much into anything that’s going on, Kate,” he warned her.

  “It’s hard not to with all that’s happened.” She regretted saying this as soon as it came out. She could only hope he would not think of their past and what he saw as her betrayal. He shifted uncomfortably and she rushed to clarify what she meant, “Especially to Mary.” Mullins nodded at this and his focus seemed to shift again.

  “Well, if that’s all for now, myself and Larry have a lot of work to get through,” he said.

  “Oh, yes, of course,” Kate said, she was happy with her visit. It had gone much better than she’d dared to hope. He still had feelings for her, she was sure of that and that was something amazing to hold on to for now. “Where did you pick up your new apprentice?” she asked. Mullins seemed to blush at the question and she smiled,

  “His aunt dropped him in and asked me to train him,” he said.

  “That’s very nice of you. He’s a very lucky boy to have such a master.” Thinking it best to leave on that note she said goodbye and left quickly.

  Such was her hurry to get away; Kate was already on Back Lane before she knew where she was going. She stopped in her tracks and turned back to Cook Street. She was happy and this was a feeling she’d not had in so long.

  Tim has spoken to her, had not said a bad word against her and did not throw her out on sight. Not only that, he had promised to help her, to protect her if he could. This was as far from how she’d imagined things might go she just couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t wait to tell the girls.

  Chapter 23

  Steven Olocher paced furiously in the library of Edwards’ home in Dublin. He’d just finished reading an account of the murder that had taken place on Angel Alley. It was not, however, the murder he had committed in killing Tam Grady, but instead some lazy idle copycat. This fiend, whoever he was, was now making all the news. He had received all the accolades and frenzied speculation that Edwards had promised would come Olocher’s way.

  What riled him most was that this man had been seen, had nearly been caught in the act! And yet the idiots of the Liberties and the press all thought he and this man were one and the same! It was infuriating and he pounded hard a few times on the desk in anger. The noise reverberated around the room and now he stood there in silence taking in deep breaths. He’d been about to fail one of his main tasks in all the training he’d done over the last year.

  Both his mentors had told him never to let rage take over control of your body- though Muc said it was fun sometimes! Edwards was more serious on the matter and Olocher had yet to see him anything more than cranky or moody, and never once saw him lose his temper. More deep breaths and he was starting to come back to himself.

  Walking around the desk, he seated himself and rested his arms on the desktop.

  “What is important here?” he asked aloud. His voice seemed to silence the reverberations of his pounding. He thought about the question he’d just asked.

  It wasn’t important right now that people didn’t see what was happening. It wasn’t important that someone had been copying his work- although it was a very crude attempt at copying. What was important was that Olocher had started his work. It had been a resounding success.

  His thoughts shifted to the motives of the other killer. In this, despite no reports of it in the newssheet, Olocher felt sure he would find something very simple. This was a personal act of murder carried out under the guise of another. Whoever killed that man had done it for a reason; this had been no random victim. A spat about cards, money owed, a woman perhaps, but he was sure it would be nothing more than this. He hoped that some journalist would be following this same line of thought, but that wouldn’t be the story they would want and he couldn’t leave them to come to this conclusion.

  Olocher wondered if he should use his new skills of stealth and cunning to investigate himself and then turn in a letter to the parish watch or the press with his findings. As he thought this, it sounded to him like a very good idea, and something he was sure he could accomplish in very little time. Still, it would be best to ask Edwards about it. He was going to have to write to Edwards anyway to let him know about this second killing. He may have some insight on it and come up with a solution.

  Olocher took a sheet of paper and dipped the quill to write but no words came to the page. He put the quill down and went to the window. There was a patter of rain just starting. He watched what few people there were in the street go to and fro and then turned abruptly and left the room.

  He managed to get to his bedroom with seeing any of the servants and he shut the door behind him. Standing in the room, he looked to the vast visage of the Devil that adorned his wall. This painting, so lifelike and buzzing with intensity had been painted by Colonel Spencer. It had been placed in the Hellfire Club up on Montpelier Hill and everyone thought it had been consumed in the fire that took that building to its foundations. Edwards had rescued it however and he told Olocher he had no idea how it had survived the fire intact as it was. There was not so much as a blemish on it.

  This hideous malevolent smiling face had been the last thing Olocher saw each night and the first thing that greeted him each morning on awaking. At times he grew afraid of it and would cower under his sheets like a scared child, but at other times, such as right now, Olocher found it to be a tremendous boost to his energy and determination. Despite what Edwards thought, Olocher considered this painting, and more so this representation of the Devil as his true guiding light in this world.

  The decision to look into the copycat killing was made as he stood there facing the great red tormentor. He was going to find this Pat Croker who had seen the killer and find out what else he knew. After that, he would move in the victims circle and take it from there.

  Satisfied that he now knew what he was going to do, Olocher went back down to the library and wrote his letter to Edwards. He told him of the second murder and asked his advice on it as would be expected by the older man. He wondered what Edwards would make of it, and what he would write back with. Most probably, he would not care in the least, would think nothing of it and tell Olocher to remain focused on the plan.

  What made it all the harder to remain focused on the plan was the fact that Edwards hadn’t told Olocher the full extent of it yet. He was onl
y allowed to know the next step along the way each time. Now and then Edwards might drop some clue or allude to what he had in mind but he never said anything really explicit for Olocher to fully grasp.

  It didn’t matter all that much, Olocher thought, there was part of the plan that Edwards didn’t know about too. A part that Steven Olocher alone was privy to. He smiled at this idea as he sealed the letter and dropped it into the tray to be taken out.

  Chapter 24

  Alderman James stood by the wall of the stable once more looking down where Thompson’s body had been found. Again, Hodges was with him and this time they were accompanied by Fredrick and Stapleton.

  “So, what have you come up with, Hodges?” Fredrick asked gleefully. James observed that he looked very pleased indeed to be taking part in this.

  “Sir, we have managed to match all of the footprints to people who were around after the body was found and there is one set left over that does not match any one of the staff on the land,” Hodges said proudly.

  “They are not the prints of the victim?” Stapleton asked, a question James was just about to utter himself.

  “No, Sir, Thompson’s have been counted out.”

  “So, which ones are not accounted for?” James asked bending down to look at the ground.

  “There, Sir,” Hodges pointed out the prints.

  “Here they approach the wall,” James said studying them, “and here they move away.”

  “What do you make of that?” Fredrick asked.

  “It fits with the murder. First they faced the wall to which Thompson had his back and then after killing him they turned and left on to this grass here,” he pointed.

  “Heading for the house?” Stapleton wondered aloud. James looked down at the feet of all three of the men with him and then looked to the house.

  “That may not mean anything, once on the harder ground here they could have gone in any direction. They may have faced the house to give us that impression,” James said.

  “Have you had your own shoes matched to the ground here, Hodges?” Fredrick asked with a wry smile. Hodges flushed,

  “Yes, Sir, These here are mine,” he said pointing.

  “Perhaps you might indulge us all the same?” Fredrick said. James could see a mean look in the older man’s eyes and he knew he was only trying to make the butler uncomfortable.

  “Of course, Sir,” Hodges said growing redder still. He took a step closer to the wall and placed his own foot carefully into one of the prints.

  “Fits like a charm,” Stapleton said laughing.

  “If I may be so bold,” James said, “Could I ask his Lordship and Mr Planter to do the same?”

  “How dare you!” Fredrick suddenly exploded in anger.

  “Take it easy Fredrick, the Alderman doesn't suspect us, but he still has to rule us out. Isn’t that so?” Stapleton said looking to James.

  “Quite so, your Lordship,” James said, “No offence was intended and I apologise if I have given any, Mr Planter.”

  “There, that’s all cleared up,” Stapleton said, “I will go first, eh?”

  “Please be careful not to upset the prints in question,” James cautioned. Stapleton nodded and then pressed his foot to the ground next to one of the prints. His impression was nothing even close to what was there. “Now, Freddy, you go,” he said smiling.

  For a moment, James thought Fredrick was going to refuse, or at the very least make a show of objecting, but after a slight grumble which James didn’t catch, he stepped forward and pressed his foot down.

  “There,” he said grumpily, “Is everyone happy now?”

  “Thank you very much,” James answered looking down. Once more, there was no similarity between the prints.

  Looking closer at those of what would appear to be the killer, he noted that the indentations were much heavier in the heel than in the toe save one print. He thought this must have been the footing position when the kill was made and they dug their feet into the ground more firmly.

  “What do you think, James, an outside man?”

  “I will never say anything for certain, but it looks possible,” James conceded. “I still haven’t spoken to all of the servants yet, however, and I would like to continue with that today if I could?”

  “Of course,” Stapleton said, “Hodges will be at your disposal again today.”

  “I mean no offence to Mr. Hodges, but it may be better if I could go up to the village alone to ask my questions.

  “Oh?” Stapleton was surprised by the request. He thought a moment and then began to shake his head slowly, “I don’t think it would be wise to leave you off on our own if there is a murderer about. What would they make of us up in Dublin if you were to come to harm?” He smiled warmly at James at this last part.

  “Perhaps I could accompany the Alderman,” the voice of Edwards said coming at them from the house. “I’ll keep him safe!” he laughed.

  “I suppose with two of you that should be fine,” Stapleton said. James didn’t want Edwards to tag along but he didn’t want to say this in front of Stapleton. Hodges had been the real issue. Even though he was a servant, there was an air of authority in him over the others. They might not feel free to say all they would if he was not there. This was going to have to be the next best alternative, at least none of them would know who Edwards was.

  “Shall we go now, then, Mr. Edwards?” James said.

  “Why not,” was the cheery answer.

  “You’ll be back to the house for lunch?” Stapleton enquired.

  “We will aim to be, Lord Stapleton, but if we are late please don’t wait for us,” James said. He didn’t want to have to come back in the middle of a promising line of enquiry just so he could have sandwiches and tea while taking nonsense with the family.

  “Very good, take care up there,” Stapleton said.

  “I think we will go on foot this time, Hodges,” James said, “So there will be no need of the horses on this occasion.”

  “Are you sure, Sir?” Hodges asked looking with worry at the clothes of Edwards and James in turn.

  “I am very sure,” James answered and then turning to Edwards said, “Mr Edwards won’t mind a little dirt on his trousers, I’m sure!”

  “Of course not,” Edwards laughed, “They generally get dirty one way or another before each day is out.”

  Chapter 25

  “So, Alderman, let's have it out before we get on to any pleasantries,” Edwards said with a large grin as they walked the muddy path towards the village. James thought for a moment of feigning innocence but quickly stopped himself,

  “Who told you I was here?” James asked.

  “You know I have eyes everywhere,” Edwards said, “What you should be asking is why I am here.”

  “Why then?”

  “Plain old boredom, I’m afraid.”

  “I was trying to get away from Dublin for a few days, away from everything that even reminds me of the place.”

  “I see,” Edwards said and they were silent for a time walking up the rise.

  “You should be more grateful to me,” Edwards said, “There are not too many people willing to offer their assistance without having to be asked for it, you know.”

  “I didn’t need your assistance,” James retorted.

  “Oh, so we are on our way to make an arrest right now?”

  “No.”

  “Do you have any idea at all who may have done it?”

  “Not yet, but I feel sure it is someone from the staff.”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “I don’t know, but I feel it.” Edwards smiled at this answer.

  “Is it possible you are finally getting good at this line of work?” James did not rise to this taunt.

  “I want you to be quiet when I speak to these people,” he said. “I don’t want them to feel intimidated in any way.”

  “If you really want to know what people like these really want to say just give them some alcohol. That
will loosen their tongues,” Edwards suggested.

  “I’d leave that to a last resort,” James grumbled.

  As they neared the village now, the people began to disappear indoors or move off around the back of huts.

  “Popular as ever!” Edwards laughed.

  By the time they stood in what passed for a road here the only person in sight was an old woman sitting stirring a large cauldron. She looked on the two newcomers with interest and James addressed her,

  “I am Alderman James. I am here investigating the murder of Mr Thompson.”

  “I think that was the first time he was ever called Mr,” she smiled.

  “Who might you be?” James asked.

  “I told Thompson he was in danger, you know. He didn’t listen to me.”

  “You knew he was in danger?” James asked eagerly. She nodded. “In danger of what, from who?”

  “I never knew who,” she said looking into the cauldron, “But I told him not to go down to the stables that night.”

  “How did you know he was in danger?” James asked.

  “I see things from people,” she said and now James started to lose the zest he’d had before. “I see things in everyone, sometimes good, and,” here she looked at Edwards, “Sometimes bad.” Edwards smiled and came over to look into her cauldron.

  “Is this where you see the future?” he asked with disdain.

  “I see it in the person,” she answered.

  “I don’t have time for this kind of nonsense,” James interjected, “Do you know anything about Thompson’s death or not?”

  “I know someone hated him, but they are good at hiding it. I could feel it around the place but I could never pinpoint it to a person,” she said.

  “What did you feel?” Edwards asked.

  “Fury,” she answered looking into his eyes. “I see some of that hidden in you.”

  “I don’t always keep it hidden,” he smiled at her.

  “You show your anger but the fury is hidden,” she said and then looking on him a moment longer said, “Even from yourself in its entirety, I think.”