:: The Maiden Tribute ::Chapter Eight One by one the huge portable coal lamps were extinguished. The sun rose and began to burn off the fog. Mulder stood off to the side and watched with a detachment that scared even him. He walked to the edge of the water and tried to pull up some semblance of feeling. But, he just felt dead inside. The police surgeon began his preliminary exam at the water’s edge while a small army of policemen scurried about sketching the scene, searching for evidence. Mulder clenched his eyes shut as the brutal image played again in his mind. A beautiful young vibrant woman - now still and lifeless, her long hair plastered against her cold pale face. "Why don’t you go home, Mulder?" Mulder didn’t bother to turn and look at Doggett. Both of them were dead tired. An uneasy truce had sprung up between them since yesterday, when they had discovered that Owens had presented himself as Skinner during his supposed investigation into the missing Georgina Taylor. They had returned to the Ephesian house a little after 3:00 o’clock. Mulder led Doggett to the alley and down to the small areaway of the mansion. The house was unusually quiet for mid afternoon and they had to wait until the sun was beginning to set in the cold February gloom, before the scullery maid came out with a bucket of slop. Mulder stepped around the large tree where he had been waiting and quietly called out to the girl. "Millie? It’s Fox Mulder, remember me? We talked this afternoon." Millie started to panic when she saw Doggett step up next to him, but Mulder soothed the girl. "Now Millie, this is a friend of mine, John Doggett. John, this is Millie." Doggett stepped forward, tipped his bowler and in a series of smooth questions and calm observations, he performed the one feat of detective skill that even Walter Skinner himself couldn’t duplicate. He had the maid telling him everything that was going on in the house, just as if they had been friends for years. "Oh sir, tis sumfick ter’ble. The young miss din’ come home las’ night. ‘is lordship is near crazed wif fear. ‘indricks, ‘es the butler, don’cha know, ‘e an’ Chalky, the groom’s been out h’all day lookin fer ‘er." When asked, she thought before continuing. "Call the coppers? Don’ tink so, sir. H’aint seen none. I cen smell ‘em rotten rozzers. Taint good for nuffink if ya h’ask me." Where did the young miss go last night? "Lor’ sir, she don’ tell none of us, nohow. But, I did ‘ear cook say sumfink about that Missus Stanhope and ‘ow she were h’alwys getting Miss Melissa in trouble wif the master." :: :: ::
After a long search, they managed to track down Mrs. Stanhope just as she was leaving her small cottage in Tyburn. The tall, hawk-nosed woman eyed them warily and when Mulder introduced ‘Sergeant Doggett of the Yard,’ she stiffened her eyes flashing in the street light. "Well, the police. What lies will you be making up about poor Georgina now?" She had turned away from them in anger only to spin back around to confront Doggett. "It’s not like she was one of us you know!" Doggett took a stop back from the enraged woman. "Ma’am?" Stanhope’s bitter laugh barely reached the men. "You know what I mean, Sergeant. She cared nothing for improving her lot, nothing for the rights of her fellow women. Frankly, I couldn’t stand to be around her, she was so shy and retiring. Melissa tried to get her to come to some of the meetings, but Georgina always declined." Mrs. Stanhope sniffed loudly. "Frankly, if I hadn’t known the saintly and sanctimonious Mr. Taylor, I would swear he beat her and her mother, but he is a timid little man and would never raise his hand against anyone." Stanhope narrowed her eyes. "Are you married, Sergeant Doggett?" Taken about by the turn in conversation and the tone of her voice, Doggett blurted out, "Yes, ma’am!" Stanhope’s face twisted into a tortured mask. "And, how many times have you struck your wife, Mr. Doggett?" Mulder’s bark of laughter cut off Doggett’s vehement protest. As Stanhope and Doggett turned their attention to the reporter, Mulder explained, a huge grin on his face. "Forgive me, Mrs. Stanhope, but I doubt that it is in Sergeant Doggett’s nature to strike any woman, certainly not Mrs. Doggett." Mrs. Stanhope loosened her fury on Mulder and spat out, "Why not? Because he is a friend of yours." Mulder eyed the flabbergasted detective and grinned ruefully. "No ma’am. I’ve met Mrs. Dogget and no man, including her husband would strike her and live to tell the tale." He quieted then and said seriously, "but enough of Sergeant Doggett, Mrs. Stanhope. Melissa Ephesian went out last night and didn’t return home. We understand the servants are out looking for her, but Ephesian hasn’t yet called in the police." Mulder took a step toward the now worried looking suffragette. "Please, Mrs. Stanhope, did you see her last night?" Lydia Stanhope grew pale and started to shake. She brought her finger tips to her lips as her eyes grew bright with unshed tears. She nodded slowly and whispered. "Yes, Melissa stopped by around this time last night. She was quite exited about a new lead on who had taken Georgina. She said she wanted to go back down there and could she borrow my driver, Ellis. But he was busy. I needed him. She promised me…" Lydia Stanhope began to sink to her knees. Doggett reached out a hand to steady her, but her self-control reasserted itself. She slapped his hand away and hissed. "Don’t touch me." She straightened, squared her shoulders and gritted out, "she told me she would wait until tonight or the next." "Do you know where she had planned on going?" Doggett demanded gruffly. Stanhope whispered, "Whitechapel." "Alone!" The two men exclaimed in unison. "I pray not," Lydia responded. "But I fear so. She was so headstrong, so stubborn." Mulder spun and left them. He hurried down the street and it took a moment before Doggett caught up to him. "Where are you going, Mulder?" "Whitechapel." Doggett grabbed Mulder’s sleeve. "It’s a big place, Mulder. We have no idea where to start." Mulder jerked his arm free. He yelled at Doggett. "I’m not asking you to come with me. Go back to the Yard! Go back to Ephesian. Go home! I don’t care! I have to go. You don’t understand. I don’t understand. But, I have to go! I have to try." He took a shuddering breath, turned away from the startled Doggett and continued down the street toward Manchester Road. :: :: ::
It wasn’t until they were settled in the hansom cab, heading toward Cable Street that Doggett tried a different subject. He asked with a deceptive mildness, "so, you’ve met my wife have you, Mulder? What did you do? Go to my house and bother her when you were writing about vampires down at the docks? Mulder had been staring out the window, lost in his own thoughts. He turned and tried to pick up the thread of conversation. "What? Your…? Oh, no." He managed a small dry laugh. "She never told you?" Even in the dim light from the passing gaslights he could see anger blaze in Doggett’s eyes. Mulder held up his hand. "After the article where I…ah…quoted you…" "Lied." "Well, shall we say, filled in the blanks that you…" "Lied." Eyes descended from proud Saxon stock met and dueled with eyes from stubborn Norman stock and this time the Norman gave in. Mulder sighed. "Lied." He refused to tell Doggett that he hadn’t written that part of the story, that his editor had embellished the quote. Just as he had refused to tell Monica Doggett when she had stormed into the office on Fleet Street, shouting wild gypsy curses at him. Mulder grinned ruefully. "After the story was published, your wife came in and suggested that perhaps I had been mistaken when I quoted you. She made me promise not to do it again." Doggett leaned back in the coach and grimaced. "I just bet she did. Put a curse on you, did she?" "Several actually. But other than that she seemed like a very nice, level headed woman." "She is. Now that I have her away from her family." Doggett’s voice was so low that Mulder barely heard him. Mulder started to say something, but thought better of it and returned to watching the street lamps pass by. Doggett closed his eyes and mused on his fiery, loving wife. He had arrested her nearly 10 years ago when she was helping her gypsy uncle in a game of Spreading the Boards. That he had fallen in love with her wild and easy ways hadn’t surprised him at all. She was beautiful and mysterious, nothing like his stern Calvinist upbringing. But, he had been astounded that she had returned his love with a wild passion and possessiveness that sometimes scared him. The birth of their children had done little to curb her passion and he was thankful and unquestioning when her favorite uncle had left them enough money to buy the small cottage in Camden Town with rooms enough so that they had some little privacy. A deep blush suffused his face as he remembered how she often woke him in the morning and a sudden tightening in his groin forced him to think of several unpleasant subjects to keep his mind and other parts from betraying his incredible lust for her. By the time they reached the entrance of Cable Street, both men had regained control of their emotions and they agreed to start their search with a visit to the whorehouse where Stanhope and Melissa had discovered Georgina. A small blond woman who was dressed to go out, a bonnet perched precariously on her head and a warm coat pulled tight around her met them at the door. She seemed to be both angry and in a hurry. Doggett flashed his warrant card and demanded, "we want to see where Miss Georgina Taylor was found." The blond spat out, "I don’ know wha’cher yappin. H’its my place, and ther h’aint no Miss Taylor ‘ere." She tried to push past the men, but Doggett stood firmly in her way. "The lady that was found here several weeks ago?’ The woman glared up at the ‘rozzer’. "Don’t know nuffick h’about that, I jess took h’it over two weeks ago. Now if you would be so kind, gov’ner, I’m late, don’cha know." Doggett kept a firm grip on her arm wondering why she didn’t recognize him. "I want to see the room…Miss?" The woman tried another track and simpered, "Marita, luv. Jess Marita." Seeing the determined look she jerked her arm out of his grasp, turned back into the doorway and screeched, "Emmy!" Both Mulder and Doggett grimaced at the sound. A small girl came to the head of the stairs and squeaked, "Yes’em?" Marita huffed and called up, "show these coppers where the tart were found all crazy, Em." The girl came down the stairs shyly and Doggett’s eyes grew wide. He studied the small child and could have sworn it was the girl from the workhouse. He knew his assumption was correct when the small girl’s eyes shone with recognition. She put a dirty finger to her mouth and began to suck on it in fear. Marita, missing the entire interchange, flounced down the steps, calling back over her shoulder, "jes’ you make suare that ya leave me other girls ha’lone. I got right powerful men ‘ere an’ they don’ take kindly to bein’ distrubed, if ya get me drift." Doggett and Mulder stared at the woman’s back as she made her way down the street. Men milling about who might conceivably be looking for a whore, turned away from her as if she were carrying the plague. Mulder observed wryly, "must be well known in the neighborhood. I wonder where she’s off to?" Doggett sighed. "What do you want to do, Mulder? Follow a tart or try and find Miss Ephesian?" Mulder swung around at the rebuke but answered mildly, "perhaps following one will lead to the other?" "Perhaps, Mulder. Well? What do you want to do?" Doggett repeated, keeping his eyes on the sad little girl who had finally reached the bottom of the stairs. Mulder rubbed his forehead. "I don’t know. We’re here. Let’s look at the room." They didn’t find much. Emmy led them up the steep stairs to the attic where they found a cold bleak room with a foul smelling pallet, cracked reeking chamber pot and a set of heavy chains, one end firmly anchored into the wall. Doggett sent Emmy for a candle and she returned with a large oil lamp, which shed a dull gloom across the room. There was little else there for them to find and Doggett was beginning to regret not following Marita when he felt a shy tug on his coat. He looked down into the wide hazel eyes of Emmy. "Wha’cha lookin fer, Mister?" Doggett crouched down in front of the girl. "A lady, Emmy. Not a whore, but a lady who might have stopped by here? Did any lady stop by last night?" Emmy’s eyes widened in fear and she stepped back away from Doggett. The policeman started to reach into his pocket for a penny to give to the girl, but she began to shake. Fat tears rolled down her face. "’e’ll ‘urt me, if I tell." Mulder came over and stooped down too. "Who will hurt you, Miss Emmy?" Keeping her eyes locked on Doggett’s she whispered. "Spender, ‘es a bad’en." Doggett paused and tried to figure out why a small waif would know a peer of the realm when it hit him. "Constable Spender?" The, now clean, finger stuck back in her mouth impeded her slight nod. Doggett held out his hand and touched the small girl on the arm. "Tell me, Emmy, what happened?" The girl haltingly told the story. "The lady, she were pretty like, she come las’ night. She got inta a row wif’ Miss ‘rita and Miss ‘rita tol’ Jimmy, ‘es what does fer ‘er, to run ‘n fetch Mr. Spender. The pretty lady were bargin’ in on the ‘ores an’ the gel’men wif ‘em an’ the ‘ole ‘ouse were in a riot like. She seen summick, cause she come runnin’ down all white and pale, cryin’. Then Spender got ‘ere, and Miss ‘rita says sumick to ‘em and ‘e grabs the pretty lady and slaps ‘er. Say ‘es gonna ‘ress ‘er fer breakin the peese. An’ then ‘e ‘its ‘er real ‘ard and she falls down. Miss ‘rita is yellin’ and this man comes down the stairs. ‘es a fright an’…" Emmy was shaking so bad that Doggett pulled her to his chest, patting and soothing the small child like she was his own little Maud. "There, there, luv, its all right. Come on, tell us the rest." Clutching Doggett like a lifeline the little girl continued. "’E’s the real baddin, ‘e just stood there and says all soft like, ‘you know what to do’ and Mr. Spender gets all white and ‘e nods and picks up the pretty lady and frows ‘er over ‘is shoulder and goes down the stairs." Emmy was crying so hard now that Doggett gently picked her up and, nodding to Mulder, left the room and began down the stairs. Once they were on the street, Doggett pulled his head back and gazed into the round fearful eyes. "Did you see what happened next?" "Ya. I were so scar’t fer the pretty lady that I followed Mr. Spender. ‘e took her down the street and frew ‘er in back of a cab what was waitin’ fer him." Mulder and Doggett studied the opening of an alleyway, so narrow that only the smallest of carts could fit down its path. Mulder asked gently "did you hear where he told the driver to go?" Emmy nodded and whispered. "Shadwell." Mulder gasped and Doggett closed his eyes. "Are you quite sure, Emmy?" The little girl buried her head in Doggett’s shoulder and nodded. Doggett began to walk away before he realized that he was still carrying the child. He started to put her down but changed his mind. "Come on Mulder. Let’s not think the worst." Mulder spat out. "Worst? What could be worse? He took her down to the docks, Doggett. What do you think he did with her? Put her on a ship to China?" Doggett studied the reporter and he realized that the man felt something for Melissa Ephesian, something more than just a reporter looking for a sensational story. "Let’s get back to the main road and find some help." "Who? Who the hell can we trust? Let’s go find Spender and beat the…" They reached the main thoroughfare and Doggett, still clutching Emmy to his chest, reached into his pocket and brought out a shiny steel whistle. Hoping to distract the child somewhat he held it up to her. "You think you can blow on this?" The answering tweet was loud and long and it was only moments before an answering whistle and a shout greeted them from the East. Daniel Pendrell was surprised to see Sergeant Doggett and another man standing at the entrance to Cable Street. He was astounded to see young Emmy firmly ensconced in Doggett’s arms. "Sir?" Doggett shifted Emmy in his arms. "Where is Spender, Constable Pendrell?" Pendrell paled and answered hesitantly. "He called off today, sir. He sent word that that he wasn’t well." Doggett nodded and sighed. "Send word to the Yard. Tell who's ever on duty to meet Sergeant Dogget at Shadwell docks. And tell them to try and get word to Chief Superintendent Skinner, will you Pendrell." Pendrell nodded, turned and ran off toward Leman Street and the newfangled invention recently installed. It would save time, though Pendrell couldn’t for the life of him understand how the telephone contraption worked. :: :: ::
Mulder shaded his eyes as the sun burned off the thin fog bathing the crime scene in a bright vivid glow. Doggett stood by his side, wondering why they could not find Skinner and beginning to worry about damn near everything. They couldn’t find Skinner, they couldn’t find Spender and he had no idea what he was going to do with young Emmy, who was now sleeping, albeit uncomfortably, on top of a packing case, his wool coat tucked around her. He had no idea what Monica would say when he showed up with the girl, but he couldn’t take her back to Whitechapel. He glared in anger down at the men working around Melissa Ephesian’s body. They had found her almost immediately, her arm caught grotesquely in between two pylons. She hadn’t been in the water long enough for decomposition to have set it, though there were various rips and tears at her delicate skin from the few creatures that could live in the foul water. But, the cause of her death was evident, most of the back of her head had been bashed in and there was no way she could have received such an injury by accident. He had taken it upon himself to put out a request for information on the whereabouts of one Constable Jeffery Spender of Whitechapel Station. He was tired, hungry and wanted nothing more than to make his report to Skinner and go home and get some sleep. He turned to Mulder. "There isn’t much you can do here, Mulder. Come on I’ll give you a ride home." Mulder ignored the man and then suddenly shook himself. He made his way down to where the medical examiner was finally finishing up. Two attendants gently lifted the body of Melissa Ephesian onto a stretcher. They started to cover her face but Mulder stopped them and knelt down next to the body. Dr. Handly started to say something but Doggett’s light touch on his shoulder stopped him. They watched as Mulder gently stared into Melissa’s dead staring eyes. Only Doggett was able to hear the strangled. "I found you, only to lose you. I promise I will find the bastard that did this and I will avenge your death." Doggett cleared his throat and motioned to the attendants to continue. "Mulder, please. Come away now, let me take you home." Mulder roused himself and shook his head. "No that’s okay. You go ahead. I want to walk and think for awhile. I've got to go see someone." "You sure, Mulder?" Mulder stood and started to walk back up the steep embankment. "Yeah, but thanks. Thanks for coming with me." :: :: ::
Skinner got them out of the whorehouse early, before dawn and they found an early morning hansom cab. They had been very quiet with each other upon waking; each dealing with their own feelings in their own way. Skinner felt incredible guilt at using Scully and Scully was trying to deal with her newly awakened feeling of sexuality. Everything they had done last night was wrong or so she had been taught, but she had felt so good. She kept her mind firmly from Cassandra and what the whore had told her. Instead, she had concentrated on getting back into her clothes. She had looked at herself in the cracked mirror over the bureau and wondered what she had been thinking last night. Something finally occurred to her in the carriage and she asked softly, "what were you doing down there, Skin…Walter?" Skinner studied her in the brightening light and whispered, "following you." At her narrowed eyes he continued more firmly. "I was going down to speak with Mrs. Wells, when I saw the light in the clinic go out. I was a little surprised to see this young boy walk out, particularly one that walked so funny." Anger finally overtook his guilt and he snapped. "Damn it, Dana. What were you thinking?" Dana retreated into anger. "You followed me, because I walked funny? I’m supposed to believe that!" Skinner eyed her speculatively and nodded. "I figured out it was you when a strand of your hair fell out of your cap, just like it is now." He reached up and pushed the errant lock back up under the cap. He let his finger caress her cheek as he brought his hand back to his lap. He leaned forward and asked again, "are you sure I can’t drop you off at home?" Dana’s anger was replaced by intense embarrassment. "Looking like this? Mother would lock me in my room for the rest of my life. No, drop me off at the clinic. I can wash up there and change back into my dress. I’ll send word that I had to attend a difficult birth. She won’t be happy, but she will be okay." <<<At least I hope she will.>>> Dana thought ruefully. She had never stayed out all night. To do so was a sure ruination of her ‘good name’. She studied the man next to her. She knew so little about him, only that last night in his arms had felt so very right. She tried to compare last night with the times with Jack Willis and she couldn’t. Jack had appealed to her from an intellectual level, he had seduced her, used her. She felt none of that with Skinner, but she still didn’t know much about him. She wondered if she could ask Mulder and how she would go about questioning her friend about someone that as of yesterday neither of them had trusted very much. The carriage finally pulled up outside the small clinic. Skinner started to get out to help her down, but she stopped him with a kiss. "Don’t. I’m fine. Will I…will I see you later?" Skinner pulled her into a rough embrace, kissing her, scratching her with his unshaven face. "Wait for me tonight. I have to go into the office and figure out what I am going to do about that damnable place. I have to figure out what I’m going to do about Owens. I have to talk to Doggett and…please just wait for me or send word that you are going home. Please." Dana reached up and caressed his cheek. "What choice do I have? God help me but I’m lost in this feeling for you, Walter. I’ll wait or I’ll send word." She stepped down and went to the door. She turned and watched the cab pull away. As it turned around and went the other direction, her eyes grew wide as she saw Mulder standing across the street, gaping first at her and then at the cab, Skinner’s profile clearly visible through the open window. :: :: ::
Mulder had walked more miles across London that he ever had in his life. He tried to make some sense of what had happened to him, but he couldn’t. He tried to understand his strange attraction to a woman he had just met. He knew he had lost someone important to him, even before he had a chance to get to know her. He needed to talk to somebody, and the only person he could think of was Scully. He found himself heading toward Red Lion Court. She usually didn’t open the clinic for at least another two hours, but he knew she sometimes came early. Regardless, he had nowhere else to go, so he found an old barrel across the street from the clinic, and sat back against the wall to wait. Mulder turned his head to watch the approaching hansom cab. His brow furrowed as the cab came to a halt in front of the clinic. He knew it couldn't be Scully since she usually walked from the omnibus stop. He was surprised when he saw the passengers through the open window; Chief Superintendent Skinner with a small man sitting next to him. He nearly fell off the barrel when he saw Skinner take the man into his arms and kiss him with a passion Mulder couldn’t imagine. As the passionate embrace continued the young man’s cap slipped off and massive waves of thick red hair cascaded down ‘her’ shoulders. Scully! His mouth went dry and he tried to make sense of one more blow to his tattered psyche as the cab turned around and pulled away. He saw that Skinner’s eyes were closed in thought or pain and that the policeman hadn’t seen him. As the cab passed by Mulder looked up into the shocked, terrified gaze of Dana Scully. As he briskly crossed the street Mulder allowed his shock and anger to grow. Scully watched him warily for a moment and then turned away from him, quickly unlocking the clinic door. She tried to close it behind her but Mulder pushed his way in. "What the hell is going on Scully? What have you and Skinner been up to? What did he do to you? The bastard! I’ll kill him myself." Scully watched in tired exasperation. "Are you finished? What are you doing here so early? As to what I was doing with Skinner, it’s none of your business." She retorted. Now that Skinner was gone, guilt at everything she had done last night, from dressing up so ridiculously to the incredible but sinful acts of early this morning began to override her conscience. She had to think and she wasn’t in the mood for Mulder’s accusations. Mulder stared at her in disbelieve. The one person he thought he could talk to was in a liaison with someone who might be involved. Someone who might be compromised! He wanted to hurt her like he had been hurt. He growled out, "I thought I would tell you before you read it in the papers. Melissa Ephesian was murdered yesterday evening; by a policeman, Constable Spender. A policeman, Scully! One who probably reports to the man I just saw you KISSING!" He didn’t bother to add that a policeman had helped him find Melissa. He turned and stalked out the door. Scully sank to the floor and covered her hands in her face and sobbed. The events of the past days finally overtook her. She rocked and hugged her knees to her chest. The door opened again and she looked up hoping to find Mulder standing there, his silly little boy grin smiling apologetically, but it was Tommy. The teenager rushed to her side. "You all right, Doctor?" Scully smiled wanly. "Yes, Tommy, I’m fine. I was… Oh never mind. Would you start the fires and please could you boil me a kettle of hot water? I want to wash up and…" Scully closed her eyes and sighed "…and I would love a cup of tea." Glad that he had something that he could do, Tommy beamed. "Coming right up, Doctor." :: :: ::
Skinner had the cab wait while he rushed up to his rooms, quickly washed off, shaved and donned new clothing. He was just barely late in getting to his office, but found Doggett already pacing outside his door. Most astounding though was Byers sitting quietly down the hall, watching as a small little girl hungrily ate a large muffin, a glass of milk clutched tightly in her hand. Skinner recognized the girl immediately and pushed past the open mouthed Doggett to stand above the small girl. The large dark shadow finally pulled the girl’s attention away from her food and she looked up and up into the incredulous gaze of the tall, bald man who had given her the half-crown. Seeing the expression on the man’s face, she thought he was mad at her and she quickly reached into her shoe and pulled out the coin and held it out to him in fear. His eyes widened further and he crouched down next to her. He closed her hand around the coin and said softly, "No that’s yours. I’m glad you managed to keep it. What’s your name, and why have you come to visit me?" Doggett coughed into his hand and started to tell the story but the girl smiled up at Skinner and piped out in a loud clear voice. "Emily Tucker, sir. What’s yours?" Skinner smiled and answered softly, Walter Skinner, Emily." He held out his hand and when she took it, he brought it to his lips and kissed her fingertips like she was a duchess. "Pleased to meet you, Miss Emily. Now what brought you here?" When her face grew anxious and fearful he looked over at Byers who in turn looked back at Doggett. Skinner sighed and rose. "In my office Mr. Doggett. Mr. Byers, make sure that Miss Tucker is well taken care of." He reached into his pocket and found a gold crown. "Go an buy her something a little less threadbare to wear while you're at it Mr. Byers." "Yes, sir! Come on Emmy lets go buy you a new dress." Suddenly confused, he looked nervously between Skinner and Doggett. "Uhm…sir? Where do you buy dresses for little girls?" Doggett sighed. "Byers, send someone to my house in Camden Town and ask my wife if she could find one of Maud’s outfits and give it to the officer." Doggett studied the child critically and then amended, "no, Maisy. I think one of Maisy’s dresses should fit her better." Skinner looked at his Sergeant with renewed respect and motioned him into his office. Before the door closed, Doggett stuck his head back out. "And Byers, remember what I told you about Owens." Byers nodded and turned to Emmy. "Miss Emily, will you wait here. I’ll be right back." Skinner sat back in his desk chair and listened to Doggett’s report of his day with Fox Mulder. His eyebrows arched high as he heard of their visit to the whorehouse on Cable Street. He sat forward and remarked quietly. "So Miss Marita is a busy woman." Doggett blushed. "Yes, sir. She didn’t recognize me from Grove Street. Of course, she was pretty well focused on you that afternoon, sir." "Harumph. Yes well…" Skinner hesitated to tell Doggett about last night but he had to trust someone and after their long history together, if he couldn’t trust John Doggett, then he might as well retire to the country now. He eyed the open door and suddenly stood up and went to glance down the hallway. Byers was holding Emily in his lap reading the Police Gazette to her. "Byers!" "Yes, sir!" "I don’t want to be disturbed for the next few minutes. By anyone, do you understand!" He low firm growl left no room for interpretation. "Yes, sir." Skinner thought to admonish him for his choice of reading material for a small child but realized that children in Whitechapel grew up much faster than the children of Whitehall. He closed the door and instead of returning to his chair, sat in the one next to Doggett who looked over at his boss with some concern. Skinner leaned forward and in a low rumbling voice told Doggett of his visit to the Hellfire Club. He told him he had heard rumors of the place, keeping Dana Scully’s name out of it entirely. Doggett’s eyes grew large in shock as he heard the names of the judges that Skinner had recognized and his lips grew thin in anger when he heard that Owens, also evidently known as Krycek, had been there and had followed Skinner from the club. "How did you evade him, sir?" "I hid in an alley all night," Skinner snapped and Doggett knew he was lying, but didn’t know why and decided he didn’t need to know the truth. Skinner eyed his best investigator warily before continuing. "But that’s not the most interesting fact I discovered. It seems that the female half of the…uhm… entertainment was none other than our little Abbess, Marita." Doggett leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes in thought. "She seemed awfully angry last night, not just because we had detained her either. You would think that a woman who had managed to own two whorehouses wouldn’t have to do…uhm…to participate…You would think she would be beyond that." Skinner nodded. "Yes, if in fact she really owns the houses herself, or she is just a front for the real owners. ‘Just’ Marita bears some looking into. I also want to find a whore named Cassandra." Doggett nodded. "Yes sir, Mulder told me about her." Somewhat surprised Skinner snapped, "Mulder knows about Cassandra?" Doggett furrowed his brow. "Yes, sir. How did you find out about her?" Skinner realized that Scully would have told Mulder and mentally chastised himself. "I have my sources too, Mr. Doggett." Suddenly they heard a commotion out in the hallway and both men jumped to their feet. Skinner reached the door first and flung it open. Doggett groaned at the sight. "Mr. Byers, I open my door at an ungodly hour and find a constable standing on my doorstep, hat in hand, telling me I’m to give him one of my daughters’ dresses. Just like that." Monica Doggett stood nose to nose with the trembling John Byers. Emily stood to one side staring in wonder at the pretty dark haired woman standing there. Doggett pushed past Skinner and approached his wife. "Mon? Dearest?" His wife finally swung around to confront her husband. She crossed her arms, one hand firmly holding a brown wrapped package, tapping her foot. "Yes, John." She replied with deceptive calmness. "Uhm…why did you come down here? I know how busy you are and surely you could have given the officer the dress and gone..." He gulped as his wife eyed him critically. "Why do you want the dress, John?" Her eyes found the little girl, who had scooted around Byers and the Doggett and stood behind Walter Skinner, clutching his pant leg. "Uhm, well, ah…you see Miss Emmy, Miss Emily here is an important witness and she needs to be cleaned up and well, Byers didn’t know where to buy her a…" "So you men were just going to throw on any old dress without considering that the child…!" Monica rolled her eyes and gently pushed her husband out of the way. She approached Walter Skinner who stood there, his hand resting gently on Emily’s head, watching with amusement the domestic interchange before him. He had met Mrs. Doggett only once before and she had struck him then as a devoted albeit headstrong wife. As she approached him, he squatted down next to Emily and pulled the child around. He had a feeling how this meeting would end and in the long run, he knew it was for the best. Monica Doggett gracefully knelt before the child and studied her carefully. "Ah, such a pretty girl. And very brave, no?" Emily, her finger firmly planted in her mouth eyed the woman suspiciously. She seldom trusted any adult, and never had she met a woman who wasn’t a whore or some strange do-gooder bent on giving her a lecture on Jesus and a thin useless muffler. Monica reached out a slender hand and gently brushed the filthy hair from the girl’s face. "Would you like to come home with me and we’ll get you all washed and cleaned and I’ll see what I can do with your hair. Would you like that, Emily?" Skinner looked down into the wide, questioning eyes of Emily and said gently, "I think that is a most kind thing for Mrs. Doggett to do. Would you please go with her, Miss Emily?" Emily considered the situation and finally nodded. Skinner looked over at Byers and motioned him to come forward. He stood and offered his hand to assist Monica Doggett up. "If you will wait with your husband for just a moment, I want to give Constable Byers some instructions." Monica took Emily by the hand and went to stand by Doggett. Skinner murmured low to Byers, "Take them out the back way. If you see Owens, explain that Mrs. Doggett is a church lady come to get a waif. Don’t mention any names if you run into him. Understood?" Byers bleakly nodded. He had no idea what was going on, but he didn’t like Owens very much. It wasn’t right that a mere constable should spend so much time with a Lord of the Realm and he wondered if Skinner knew how much time Owens spent with Lord Spender. He made a note to himself to tell Skinner someday. Skinner and Doggett stood side by side and watched Byers escort Mrs. Doggett and her charge down the back steps. Skinner asked, "does Owens know your wife, John?" "No, sir. And, there should be no reason why Constable Spender should be here today." Skinner paused. "Does Byers know what Spender looks like?" "No reason why he should, sir. But if you will excuse me, I think I’ll go down with them and make sure they get into a cab, unnoticed." Skinner nodded. "Do that. I’ll meet you out front then and we will go and visit Lord Ephesian. You haven’t told him yet?" Doggett blushed. "Uhm, no sir. I thought it best to see you first." "Very well, Doggett. We’ll go together."
:: Chapter 9 ::Doggett followed Skinner out of the cab and up the stairs to the front door of Lord Ephesian’s house. Skinner rapped loudly and waited impatiently. When the servant finally opened the door, Skinner could see that the famous reserve of the English Butler was going to be sorely tested today. He noticed the signs of sleeplessness and stress in the set of the man’s jaw and shoulders. Gruffly, he commanded, "kindly tell Lord Ephesian that Chief Superintendent Skinner and Sergeant Doggett are here to see him." Not giving the man a chance to argue, he pushed past him and stood in the large foyer. Hendricks tried to think of something, anything that would make this formidable man go away. He had a feeling that once Skinner stated his business, the household would never be the same again. Hendricks sniffed loudly, but the gesture was wasted on the two. "If you gentlemen will wait in the morning room, I’ll see if his lordship can see you." Skinner glared at the man and responded firmly, "Tell his lordship that he doesn’t have a choice." Hendricks gulped and nodded and pointing to the door they were to enter, turned and forced himself to calmly walk up the stairs. Skinner paced, nervously considering his options and the probable outcome of this interview. If he couldn’t break Ephesian, if he allowed him to retreat behind his stoic, British coldness, then they would get little or no information. After a long interval, the door opened with a bang and Lord Ephesian stomped into the hall. "What is the meaning of this…this outrage? I suddenly have no choice in who I see this early in the morning? You forget yourself, sir." Skinner, his hands fisted on his hips, considered the exhausted looking man in front of him. He thought it was a useless gesture, but a good try. Skinner nodded to the settee and commanded, "Perhaps you should sit down, Lord Ephesian." Ephesian’s face went red at the insolence and then deathly pale at the implications. He realized that no high official of the police would dare such a presumption unless something outrageous had occurred. Ephesian straightened his shoulders for the blow and snapped out, "what has happened?" Skinner met his gaze and calmly inquired, "your daughter, Lord Ephesian? Where is she?" Doggett locked his jaw to keep from gasping. It was a cruel gambit that Skinner had adopted and one that Doggett had never seen him use before. Ephesian stuttered. "S-s-she’s upstairs, she’s been ill. Caught the flu a few nights ago, we’ve been…." Ephesian’s explanation petered out as he saw Skinner gently shake his head. "Do you have any idea where she went two nights ago, Lord Ephesian?" "I t-t-told you…" "Do you have any idea why she went back to that whorehouse where she found Georgina Taylor?" Ephesian brought his hand to his mouth, his eyes wide with fear. "Don’t…please…" Skinner pushed on. "Do you care that your daughter was found this morning, in the Thames, Lord Ephesian?" Ephesian sank to the settee. "Oh Dear God. Is she...?" Skinner stood in front of the shaken man. "Yes Lord Ephesian, she is dead. Now, sir. What do you know about the Hellfire Club and what did your daughter discover about your involvement and did that involvement contribute to her death?" Doggett rushed forward and kept the man from falling forward. Skinner turned and roughly opened the door where he found Hendricks, his face pale, his brow shiny with sweat. Skinner snapped, "bring your master a brandy." Skinner stood off to the side while Hendricks handed Doggett a full tumbler of brandy. Doggett knelt next to the wheezing man and held the glass to his lips. Doggett glared up at Skinner, but the tortured look on the Chief’s face stilled his tongue. When Ephesian finally regained his composure he lay against the back of the couch and studied Skinner. "How did you know?" he whispered. Skinner inwardly relaxed. It had worked. It had only been a hunch but it had worked. "Come now, Sir! It was all too convenient. What happened? Did you threaten them? Were they putting pressure on you? Why would a man come to your house, the servants’ entrance to give you important information about a crime that had already been forgotten by everyone? Everyone except your daughter. You had better tell me everything. Unless, of course, you don’t want to see the men responsible for your daughter’s brutal murder brought to justice." Ephesian nodded and managed to stand up. Doggett watched, but made no move to help the peer, who went to stare out the window. Grasping at the last straw available to him Ephesian croaked out a hoarse, "how do you know it’s really her? Who identified her?" Doggett gently replied. "I was there, your lordship. Mr. Mulder identified her. We will, or course, need you to come down and make it official, but it is your daughter, sir. Mulder was certain." Ephesian studied the shadows that the barren trees cast in the midmorning light. "She spoke to me about him. After I sent him away, I wished that I had told him then. Maybe he could have saved her." Doggett shook his head, though only Skinner saw the gesture, "No, sir. By the time Mulder talked to you, she was already dead." Ephesian’s shoulders sagged and his body seemed to close in on itself. "I told them that I could manage her. I swore that she would never go near there again. I promised them that they were safe from her. Oh God, they’ve killed her. He’s killed her." Skinner nodded for Doggett to step away and stood quietly behind Ephesian. "Who is involved in this Ephesian. And, who isn’t?" Ephesian stared out the window. When he finally began, Skinner and Doggett had to strain to hear the thin whisper. "It all started in school, nearly thirty years ago. One of the professors, I don’t even remember which one, caught several of us bothering the headmaster’s daughter. He lectured us for hours about how it was stupid to foul one’s own nest so to speak. He brought us down the next weekend and took us on a tour of the whorehouses. It was a real eye opener. I couldn’t believe it. It became somewhat addictive. One thing led to another and I met this upperclassman, Charles Spender." Skinner and Doggett exchanged shocked glances. "He was the one that introduced me to the Hellfire club. I never went that often, but several times, Spender would call and tell me to invite so and so and I would and I didn’t realize that some of the men had no taste for the…the…the perversity of it. I didn’t know till much later that Spender was blackmailing them." He paused and looked back at Skinner. "Do you remember Lord Richardson?" Skinner nodded bleakly. "A good man, under much pressure." Ephesian turned back to the window. "A good man who could have stood the pressure, if Spender hadn’t threatened to go to his wife and tell her how he was seen watching the sick perversions at the Hellfire club if he didn’t do what Spender wanted. That’s why he took his own life and left that ridiculous note saying the pressures of his job were too much. He just couldn’t bring himself to do what Spender wanted him to do in regards to the Home Office’s involvement in Ireland." Skinner sighed. "Who else? Who else wanted to be there?" Ephesian’s laugh was bitter. "Oh there are always men, who once they are ‘tricked’ into going, join willingly in the games. Judges Masters and Dunston for two. Well there’s a whole sick story about those two anyway. Then there is Lord Barrington. Lots of money. Lots of strange bents. Of course, no one is sicker than old Spender himself. You know his son works for the police don’t you. Skinner’s look warned Doggett not to divulge the killer’s name just yet. "I had wondered, though I am surprised that Spender would have his own son work such a miserable beat. I’d have thought he would have done better for the boy." Ephesian bitter laugh was stronger now. "Please. That boy has been his father’s henchman since he was a lad. Diana, Lady Spender, isn’t the boy’s real mother you know. Oh it is all very hush-hush. No one talks about it and no one ever sees the father and son together. But there are whispers. Old Fowley nearly had a cow when Spender claimed the boy as his own. I suspect it was to get back at Diana for something. Diana refuses to have the boy to the house, but I’ve seen the father and son together at the club and there is no doubt." An odd inkling niggled at the back of Skinner’s mind. "Who’s the mother?" Ephesian rubbed his forehead. "I don’t know and I really don’t care." He turned to Doggett; his eyes held a haunted pathetic look. "How did she die? Did she suffer?" Doggett thought back on the scene this morning and while the remains of the girl had been horrific, he felt he answered truthfully when he replied. "I don’t think she even knew what hit her, your lordship. It was fast and our witness says she was unconscious, before the blow was struck." This last bit was creative reconstruction on his part, but if Mulder could get away with it in the interest of a story, why not spare the man some agony. Skinner wasn’t feeling so kind hearted. "Now, sir. I need to know. What about Miss Philydia Wells?" he snapped. Ephesian shuddered. "Lord Cavender’s governess? From what I understand, and mind you, I wasn’t told much; it was a fluke, a mistake. The girl was walking down Red Lion Court and they grabbed her. It’s happened before, but usually not to women with powerful employers." Skinner pushed harder. "But why was she taken? Why her, why not some other woman?" Ephesian shook his head vehemently. "I tell you I don’t know. It could have been any reason. Certain members of the club want to deflower a certain type or kind of woman. I haven’t partaken in that particular sport in a long time." His lordship ran nervous fingers through his hair. "I just don’t know." Skinner asked one last question. "Was Cavender a member of the Hellfire Club?" Ephesian closed his eyes and shook his head. "You must be joking? Cavender? Good Gad, the man is more morally rigid than the Archbishop himself, High church and all that. Won’t be seen in Bertie’s company. Cuts him dead. Don’t see how he can get away with it. But the Queen, bless her, adores Cavender. He’s one of her closest advisors. Damn prig sometimes but has a good nose for keeping out of trouble. I heard Spender’s afraid to even try and trick him into going to the club for fear Cavender would throw such a row they would have to kill him to keep him quiet." He laughed ruefully. "No, Chief Superintendent, I don’t know why the Wells woman was taken, but I’m quite sure that Spender never ordered it. Cavender has been making noises at the Home Office and it never does well to call too much attention to our little perversions." A deep shuddering sob shook the man. "When…when can I see my daughter?" Skinner looked over at the exhausted Doggett and went to the door of the morning room once again. "Hendricks!" he called. "Yes, sir?" "Send someone to find the constable on the street. Have him come in right away." "Yes, sir. I’ll go myself." "No. You need to stay with your master. Send one of the footmen." Hendricks nodded and called for one of the men. He came in and stood at attention next to his master. Skinner inquired, "what of Lady Ephesian." When Ephesian didn’t answer, Hendricks cleared his throat and squeaked out. "Lady Ephesian died two years ago, sir. She was a good-hearted lady. I’m glad she didn’t live to see this awful occurrence." When the constable ran in a few moments later, Skinner identified himself to the startled man. He instructed him to escort Lord Ephesian down to the morgue, to stay with him while he identified the body and to make sure that Lord Ephesian returned home safely. He then pulled Hendricks aside. "Watch him man, if you want your position to be here tomorrow, watch him closely. Call for his doctor and let him know that you are concerned for his state of mind." Hendricks grew even more pale but nodded. Skinner finally addressed Ephesian. "Sir, there is little I can do to you. You say you have no hand in this? Very well, but your daughter is dead, partly because of your own inaction. I would hope you will help us avenge her death, by agreeing to tell all you know." Ephesian wearily nodded his head. "As if anything I could say will stop this. Do you have any idea how old the club is?" At Skinner’s blank look Ephesian weakly smiled. "From what I understand the club was formed 250 years ago. I really rather doubt that you can destroy it all by yourself." The constable escorted Ephesian down the steps and Doggett and Skinner stood on the curb watching them alight Lord Ephesian’s carriage. Stifling a yawn, Doggett asked Skinner, "where next sir?" Skinner hailed a cab and held open the door for Doggett. When he slammed the door Doggett leaned out only to hear Skinner shout up to the driver. "25 Barre Street, Camden Town." He looked up at Doggett’s surprised face. "Go home. Get some sleep and send Byers to meet me at Lord Cavender’s house." He held up his hand. "No arguments, Sergeant. You’re no good to me dead on your feet and I suspect that I will be needing your level head very soon. Go home, make sure that Emily is safe and then go to bed. When you wake, make sure that you get one of the constables from Bow Street to stay with your family. I don’t want any harm coming to them or Emily. Is there a particular constable that you can trust?" Doggett nodded and sat back as the carriage pulled away. It was just past noon when he finally alighted in front of his house; the weariness finally overtaking him. He stumbled over the threshold and was summarily attacked by two pairs of soft hands clutching at his knees. He stooped down and picked up his three-year old and hugged her tightly. "Well, Miss Melinda, how is my little princess." Melinda buried her head in her father’s shoulder and giggled with excitement. He looked down into six year old Maisy’s solemn eyes and was told, "Papa, momma brought home another little girl. Can we keep her?" "We’ll see, luv. Is Mr. Byers around?" This rather innocent question brought on another fit of giggles from He climbed the stairs and stood in the doorway of the large bedroom that the three girls shared. Byers sat on a large hassock while Maud served him and a wide-eyed Emily tea. Maud, who had been born only two years after his marriage, took being eight very seriously. She felt she was all grown up. Emily, at least two years older, appeared to be enthralled with the intricate pattern on the tiny china cup. Doggett felt a delicate hand caress his back and he looked down into the eyes of his smiling wife. He bent down and kissed her soundly. "The dress looks very nice on her," he whispered. Tears shone bright in Monica’s eyes. "Yes, yes it does. And you, my dear, look quite tired. How long can you stay?" Byers looked up then and nearly fell backward getting up from the table. "Uhm…sorry Sergeant…I uhm…" Doggett laughed. "Don’t worry about it Byers, you were keeping an eye out on our guest. Now I’m home and Skinner wants you to meet him at Lord Cavender’s place. Do you know where it is?" Byers nodded and indicating the hallway he murmured, "a minute of your time, Mr. Doggett, before I go?" Doggett handed his daughter to Monica who ushered her two youngest children into the bedroom and closed the door on the two policemen. She knew the look and wanted to give them as much privacy as she could. Doggett nodded toward the stairs. "I’ll see you out Byers." As they descended Byers cleared his throat. "I hope I didn’t overstep my authority Mr. Doggett, but I asked Constable Fredricks to stop by when he got off shift at noon and he just left a few minutes ago. He told me that Owens never showed up at work." Doggett sighed. "Did anyone from Leman Street come by with word on Spender?" Byers shook his head. "No and Fredricks said that Skinner’s order to find and detain Spender has been issued to all the stations, but no one has heard anything yet." Doggett nodded and opened the door, but Byers hesitated. "What is it Byers?" Doggett asked resignedly. "Well, Sergeant, again, I don’t know whether it’s my place or not, but is Constable Spender any relationship to his Lordship?" Doggett nodded. "Yes, I believe so. Why?" "Well you know that whenever Lord Spender stops by headquarters, he makes a point in looking up Constable Owens. I’ve seen them together several times." Doggett snapped. "Does Skinner know this?" Byers shrugged. "Not from me, Sergeant." Doggett rubbed his hand across him mouth and then stretched his neck. "Well, when you see him at Cavender’s make sure you tell him right away." :: :: ::
Skinner once again found himself waiting on a lord of the realm. This time, the mood of the staff was somber, but with none of the nervousness or agitation of the Ephesian household. He waited by the tall bay windows overlooking the quite tree lined street. When Lord Cavender finally entered the library Skinner turned around prepared for a confrontation but instead he was met with a kind, almost apologetic look on Cavender’s face. "Please forgive my delay, Chief Superintendent. I had a rather lengthy report to get through for Her Majesty. I assume you’ve had some word on Miss Wells’ murderer? May I offer you tea?" Realizing he hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday, Skinner nodded and hoped that something more substantial than biscuits would be served as well. Moments later a maid brought in a large tray containing an ornate silver tea service as well as several plates of small cucumber sandwiches and sweet cakes. Skinner felt his mouth begin to water and gratefully sat across from Cavender. He forced himself to take only a few sandwiches as he drank his tea. He promised himself a stop at the first public house he came across. After Skinner had finished several of the small sandwiches, Cavender prompted gently, "now, Chief Superintendent what do you have for me?" Skinner placed his teacup down and sat back and studied Lord Cavender.
He prayed that Ephesian hadn’t lied to him. He cleared his throat and began.
"Lord Cavender. I am afraid I don’t know who exactly killed your governess. I
have some suspicions that I am working on Instead, he was surprised to see Cavender nod gravely. "I see. How many men do you have working on the case, Mr. Skinner?" Skinner considered the implications of the question and decided to be frank. "After the initial investigation of the site, only myself and my most trusted men – two to be exact." Cavender sighed and closed his eyes. "And that would be because you don’t trust anyone else in your department or because you already know who killed her and they are very important and you don’t want to upset the status quo?" His voice held no bitterness, only a vast knowledge and understanding that belied Ephesian’s description. "Miss Wells’ death is connected with that young lady you mentioned in your office yesterday? A Miss Taylor, I believe." Skinner nodded. Warm, yet calculating hazel eyes met Skinner’s deeply troubled brown eyes. "And tell me, Chief Superintendent. Did you drop the matter of Miss Taylor’s death." Skinner took a deep breath. "No, Lord Cavender, I did not." "Do you think that the same person who killed Philydia killed Miss Taylor?" "I don’t know, your lordship. I suspect yes. And when we arrest the man we are fairly certain killed Miss Taylor, we will, of course, question him on the matter of Miss Wells." Skinner leaned forward in his chair, his hands grasped tightly in front of him. "You must understand, though. Even if we bring this man to justice, even if he confesses to the murder of Miss Wells, I strongly suspect that he was just the instrument." "I see. So even when this man is hanged for his crime or crimes, the kidnapping will still continue. Women will still be sold into this awful slavery?" Skinner gasped. "How much to you know?" "More than people suspect." Cavender studied the policeman carefully. "Very important and powerful people are involved aren’t they?" Skinner nodded again, some small hope finally appearing in his face. "Yes, I…I was at the club on Green Street last night. It was…" Understanding and sorrow filled Cavender’s eyes. "Perverted and sinful no doubt, Chief Superintendent. Were you recognized?" "I don’t know. I’ve been out of my office all day. But I recognized several men and one of my own constables was there. I think he followed me, but I eluded him. I’ve got a couple of men who are watching for him, but he hasn’t come into headquarters as far as I know." Skinner dropped his eyes to his clenched hands. "I might as well tell you, we suspect that Constable Jeffery Spender is the murderer of Georgina Wells." Cavender’s sharp intake of breath was followed by a whispered question. "Is he related to Lord Charles Spender?" "I’m told his son, though not by Lady Spender." Skinner watched warily as Cavender suddenly got up and began to pace. "Do you think that Lord Spender knows what his son is up to?" Skinner remained silent causing Cavender to turn and face the policeman. "Do you think that Lord Spender is involved?" Anger and fear suffused his ragged voice. "Answer me, man." Skinner stood and faced Cavender. "I only have my feeling and the word of one man to confirm it, your lordship. Now, answer me this? Why were you with Spender in my office, yesterday?" At first, Cavender was astounded by Skinner’s effrontery, but then understood the position the man was in. He responded calmly, "Spender came to me. He suggested that he could be of help in finding the killer of Miss Wells. Frankly, Mr. Skinner, I was rather surprised. I don’t like Spender, never have. Too many whispers, too many looks follow him down the steps of Whitehall. But I was desperate. Miss Wells has been a godsend to my wife, Anastasia, who is quite delicate and frail. The children adore her. Anastasia insisted that when Mr. Johnson, the artist, painted her portrait last year, that he paint Philydia with the children. I want her death avenged. Do you understand? Any help I can render is yours. If Lord Spender is involved he has made a powerful enemy. We may fail at this Skinner, but you will not fail alone." A light knock interrupted them. Cavender called out. "What is it Jenkins?" A footman opened the door and a very nervous John Byers entered the room. "Sorry your lordship, but Mr. Skinner sent for me." Skinner introduced the two men. "If you will excuse me for a moment your lordship, I need to give Constable Byers some instructions." Skinner led Byers out into the hallway. "I need you to go and find out where Constable Spender is hiding. Check with your friends down at The Headless Goat. If you find him, do nothing. Send word to me." Byers nodded but pursed his lips. "Uhm…sir…Sergeant Doggett said I should tell you." "Tell me what?" Skinner prodded. Byers gulped and then continued. "About Constable Owens and Lord Spender, sir." Skinner didn’t bother to turn at Cavender’s sharp intake of breath, he had known that the peer had followed them out into the foyer. "What about Constable Owens and Lord Spender, Byers." Byers paled, but told his story. Cavender came up to him and listened intently. "It seems to me, Mr. Skinner that you have been compromised." Skinner nodded. "Yes. All day yesterday, every time I tried to work on Miss Wells’ case or leave headquarters to check on something, Owens was right there. Owens followed me from the club and I know he is using at least one other name, Krycek." Skinner rubbed the back of his neck tiredly. "Byers, do you think any of your…uhm…contacts would know Owens?" Byers straightened. "I’ll ask, sir. I’ll get word back to you as soon as I hear anything. "Very good Byers, I’m going back to headquarters now, see what paperwork has built up on my desk. Send word there." He turned to thank Lord Cavender but the man had returned to the library. He re-entered the room and found Cavender staring at a small, framed oil painting on the wall. He cleared his throat to say goodbye, but the sound was strangled as he realized what Cavender was looking at. Cavender turned at the sound with a small smile on his face. "She was very pretty, of course, but her spirit and loving nature was far more beautiful." He saw the horrified look on Skinner’s face. "Of course, you saw her when she was dead, you could never realize how she looked when she was alive." Skinner stumbled back and raced to the door. Cavender watched in amazement and turned back to the picture of his three children sitting in front of their smiling governess, her thick red hair done up demurely in a fashionable bun on the top of her head." :: :: ::
Scully spent the entire day with more and more patients suffering form various ailments, including another case of cholera. Though she had slept soundly in Skinners tight embrace, the tension of last night’s adventure and the strain of all the emotions hitting at her from all sides was beginning to take it’s toll. When the waiting area finally emptied out she glanced at the small watch she kept pinned to her lapel. 4:30. She closed her eyes in relief and called Tommy to her desk. He stood waiting while she finished a brief note. "Take this to Scotland Yard. Hand it only to Chief Superintendent Skinner." She handed him sixpence and admonished him to take the omnibus. He grinned down at the coin and then back up at her, carefully avoiding lying to her and ran out the door with the note. She pushed herself up out of the chair and went and began turning off all the gaslamps in the office. A short time later, she was plodding down the fog-laced street, lost in her own thoughts. Perhaps Mulder had been right to be so angry with her. She really didn’t know anything about Walter Skinner other than the way he made her feel. Of course, he did follow her and probably saved her life, if not her virtue. Though what they had done last night somehow seemed more moral than the show that they had been forced to watch. She shuddered and stumbled on the cobblestones. She turned down the passageway that would take her to the street corner and the omnibus stop. The whisper of cloth over her face was her first and only indication that she was in danger. :: :: ::
Skinner reached the clinic a little after 5:00 o’clock, the fog promising to be as thick as pea soup tonight. He yelled for the cab to wait and went and pounded on the door but he could tell that no one was in. He looked around but could see nothing. He thought at first to rush to Bethany Circle to see if she was home, but he didn’t want to worry her mother for no reason. After all, surely who ever had kidnapped and killed Philydia Wells would not be so stupid to try anything so soon. He forced himself to return to the cab and gave the driver terse instruction. "Scotland Yard." During the ride through the heavy evening traffic he berated himself for not seeing the slight resemblance sooner. Of course, in death, Wells had a look of pale imitation of life. Her skin so vibrant in the portrait had been gray with ugly black bruising; her hair soft, full and red in the picture had been lank and dull in the dim light. Dana had been so very alive; not at all like the dead girl. Surely, no one would have seen the resemblance. His groan shook his sturdy frame. "Oh lord, what have I done?" He trudged through the front door of headquarters. Constable Eisley was on duty behind the desk and when he saw the Chief Superintendent he greeted him heartily, completely ignoring Skinner’s vile disposition. "Good evenin’, Mr. Skinner, sir. You have a visitor, a very important man with a message only to be delivered to you, no one else. ‘e’s been waitin’ near 30 minutes, ‘e ‘as." Skinner wearily looked over to where Eisley was pointing. A teenage boy stood defiantly returning Skinner's stare. The boy approached holding a white, though somewhat grimy piece of paper. "You, Chief Superintendent Skinner?" "That’s right." Skinner growled. "You got papers?" Eisley snorted. "Come on, boy, I told ya, ‘e was Mr. Skinner. Now give ‘em the note and be off with ya." Skinner sighed; he really didn’t have time for this nonsense. He needed to find Dana. He pulled out his warrant card and showed it to the boy who studied it carefully, though Skinner doubted if the boy could actually read. The boy nodded and looked up at Skinner. "Name’s Tommy. Pleased ta meet’cha. Doctor Scully said to give this ta you and nobody else." He handed Skinner the note and the policeman scanned it quickly. Skinner felt his tension release in a slow long breath. "She went home. You saw her home." Tommy scuffed one foot against the other. "Well, not home, ‘xactly. She made me leave bafor’ she left. She scooted me h’off like." Seeing Skinner’s tension return the boy’s eyes grew large. "Haint nuffink happen to her, gov’ner. She walks home h’a lot. No body ever boffers ‘er. She’s tha doctor!" Skinner’s unease was beginning to effect the boy. "H’its like I told tha’ther copper. She goes h’all h’over the place. Don’ nobody bother her." "What are you doing here Tommy?" Skinner spun around and saw Doggett trudge up the stairs. "You know this boy, Sergeant? And I thought I told you to get some sleep." Doggett observed the boy and his boss for a moment and decided it was easier to answer the questions out of order. "I got four hours, sir. I’ve survived on less. Keats from Bow Street is at my house, as well as my brother-in-law. As for the boy? I talked to him when? Two days ago? He told me the Doctor was out with a patient. I didn’t figure on bothering him so I asked the boy about Miss Taylor. Tommy here said he never saw the girl." Tommy nodded vigorously. "Tha’s roight, gov’ner. Never saw her, but the rozzer, your pardon, tha sergeant tol’ me the lady only came by on Sundays. Sundays me ma drags us ta church and then down ta tha park. Says we’s got’ta see summfink green, though h’aint much ta see in winter, if ya get ma drift." "Well that’s another useless mystery cleared up," Skinner said. Just as he was about to explain his cryptic remark, the doors to the station burst open and Byers rushed in. "Sir! Sergeant! Mr. Frohike thinks he knows where Constable Owens is!" Skinner glared furiously. He needed, for his own peace of mind to KNOW Scully made it home. He studied his Sergeant for a moment before making his decision. "Go with him Doggett, find out what you can and if you spot him, don’t do anything." He reached into his pocket and took out a half-crown and handing it to the surprised Doggett, continued. "Take the boy with you. If you find out anything, then send Tommy to find me." Skinner looked at Tommy. "If he sends you, go to Doctor Scully’s house first. If I’m not there, then I’ll be here, waiting. You’ll get the coin when the Sergeant sends you. Find me in less than a half hour, and I’ll give you its sister." Home :: X-Files Index :: e-mail |