Free Under the Dragon's Tail by Maureen Jennings Page A

lungs. These traces were green in colour and under the glass seemed in my opinion consistent with a material such as cotton or wool. Perhaps more likely wool. Given the position of the body, the woman could not have smothered by accident. I have to conclude therefore that she died from forceful suffocation, likely from a person holding a cloth or pillow over her face. I am yours truly,
     
    An illegible signature followed.
    “Damnation! I missed it, Crabtree.”
    “Sir?”
    “I was only too ready to assume she was some old sot who’d conked her head.”
    He told him what the doctor had written and Crabtree shrugged sympathetically.
    “Don’t blame yourself too much, Mr. Murdoch. That’s what we all thought. Including the coroner.”
    “I should have been more thorough.”
    “Don’t know what you would have found. You couldn’t look in her throat,” said Crabtree reasonably.
    “Johnson wants a report by Friday. Let’s hope those two boys haven’t turned the place upside down and there’s still something to investigate.”
    “Do you think somebody knew about her money and was intending to rob her? They might have got panicky when they realized she was done for and scarpered off?”
    “Pretty thick-headed robber if that’s the case, but it’s not out of the question.”
    He stuffed his remaining piece of pie into a tin kept for the purpose so it would be safe from the mice. He was angry with himself. Brackenreid would love the opportunity to find fault, he always did. He’d never been happy with having Murdoch foisted on him. One of Stark’s new men and a Papist to boot. More than that, however, Murdoch was dismayed at his own complacency.
    “Let me talk to this doctor, then we’ll go over there.”
    The constable shifted his feet and winced.
    “You all right?” Murdoch asked him. For answer Crabtree’s eyes rolled back in his head and with one smooth, unbroken motion he fell backwards. Murdoch was irrepressibly reminded of a Douglas fir crashing to the ground in the forest.
     
    The constable had come around quickly, refused to go home, but agreed to stay in the off-duty room for a little while longer. Fortunately, Brackenreid was out at a fire-hall inspection and couldn’t make a fuss. Murdoch left Crabtree perched on a chair sipping fresh tea and went into the outer office. A young constable, second class, was manning the telephone and telegraph.
    “Call up one-three-seven-eight for me, will you, Phillips.”
    The constable plugged in his wire and dialled the number. The call was obviously answered immediately.
    “Just a minute please, a caller for you from number-four station.” He indicated the telephone to Murdoch, who put the receiver to his ear and bent down to speak.
    “Hello?”
    “Yes,” said a female voice. “What can I do for you?”
    “I’d like to speak to Dr. Ogden.”
    “This is she.”
    Murdoch felt a flash of impatience.
    “Nurse, please put me through to the doctor. I’m in a hurry.”
    “And so am I, sir. Will you state your business? This is Dr. Ogden to whom you are speaking.”
    Murdoch shot a quick glance at the sheet of paper in his hand. He’d not paid attention to the preamble. The physician’s name was Julia.
    “I, er, beg your pardon, madam, er, doctor–”
    She cut him short but there was amusement in hervoice. “That’s quite all right. I’m used to it. Dr. Stowe and I are a minority of two in this city. We are constantly being mistaken for our nurses. However, I assume you have not called to discuss the challenges I face being a lady doctor.”
    “Not today, ma’am, although I’m sure it is a fascinating tale. My name is Murdoch, William Murdoch, and I’m acting detective at number-four station. I just received your report on the post mortem examination of Dolly Shaw.”
    “Yes?” The doctor’s voice was wary, expecting criticism.
    “You mention a small contusion at the back of the head. Do you think it happened before or after she was