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

smothered?”
    There was a pause at the other end of the line, then she said, “What is your point, Mr. Murdoch?”
    “If Mrs. Shaw fell, hit her head on the fender, and then was suffocated, it wouldn’t be that hard to do. But she was a heavy woman. If she was overpowered, suffocated, then dragged to the fender in an attempt to disguise the murder, her assailant would have to be strong.”
    “A man, then.”
    “Possibly, although some women are equal in strength to men.”
    She laughed. “A hit, sir, a palpable hit. Frankly, it is impossible to determine whether the injury occurred very shortly after death or very shortly before. There is little bleeding.”
    “Could the blow have rendered her unconscious?”
    She sighed. “I wish I could be more definite but I’m afraid I cannot say. She had so much liquor in her stomach, I would think she was staggering drunk. An easy pushover–literally. She may have fallen and banged her head on the fender, been dazed, and…well I suppose her assailant could have taken advantage of that. Her gown, by the way, was splattered with beer, but from the pattern, I’d say the liquor was thrown down on her rather than she herself spilling it. Perhaps to reinforce the notion of her inebriety.”
    “Dr. Ogden, if you get tired of medicine you could be a consultant for the police force.”
    “Not very likely, Mr. Murdoch. I’ve met Colonel Grasett. I don’t think he would believe a word I said.”
    Privately Murdoch thought the police chief had difficulty accepting anything anybody said, other than himself, but he didn’t say so. He didn’t want to overstep the mark and get too comradely with the lady. He was enjoying the conversation so far.
    “Mr. Murdoch? I’m sorry I’ve not been of much help.”
    “You have, ma’am. Whatever the sequence, this was deliberate murder.”
    “That I concur with.”
    She said her good-bye and hung up. Murdoch replaced the receiver on the stand. She must be quite young because it was only recently that lady doctors could be licensed. He wondered what she looked like.

 
    CHAPTER NINE

    C onstable Robert Wiggin was the only officer available to assist, and Murdoch wasn’t happy about it. He didn’t like or respect the man. Wiggin was sallow-faced and lanky, with a caved-in chest that no amount of reprimand from Seymour the duty sergeant could straighten. He bullied the unfortunates who ended up in the jail, but was smooth as butter around his superiors. If the inspector were to ask for an arse wipe, the constable would have done it.
    Murdoch set a brisk pace over to River Street, and he took a rather mean pleasure in the fact that the constable was quite winded when they reached the corner.
    The house looked abandoned, all the curtains drawn, the black ribbon on the door drooped.
    “Stand back a bit, will you, Wiggin, don’t want to scare them into next year.”
    Murdoch thumped hard with the knocker and after a few minutes the door was opened a crack. A pair of frightened eyes peeked out at him.
    “Hello, Freddie, isn’t it? Can I come in?”
    The boy nodded and stepped back. George appeared behind him. He too looked afraid, although he had more air of bravado than the younger lad. Murdoch entered the hall, which reeked of cigars.
    “We’ve got to have a talk, my bravos. Kitchen?”
    Freddie glanced quickly at George, who nodded. Both boys were even more unkempt than before. Murdoch followed them into the kitchen, which was lit by a single candle on the pine table. The stub end of a cigar sat in a used plate. He wondered how they had been taking care of themselves and he felt guilty that he hadn’t given them more thought.
    “Has Miss Lily come back yet?”
    George answered. “No, we haven’t seen hide nor hair of her, have we, Freddie?”
    The boy shook his head.
    Murdoch paused. He didn’t know how to proceed. He didn’t want to shock them unnecessarily.
    “Boys, I want you to tell me the truth. No con do you hear? On your