Dead Man's Handle

Dotty moved along the rows of gravestones and eerie benevolent angels with sure steps and no hesitation. It was not that she was uncommonly brave walking fearlessly along the dead, but her life was in such a shambles at this moment, that should a headless horseman gallop out of the nearest headstone he could not frighten her any more than the thought of her father's strap. Or make her shiver with as much disgust as the suitor he'd decided she would marry.

"I'll not be marrying him for all the money in the world." She muttered, trying to still the sudden nausea bubbling up in her stomach at the thought of Mr. Blake's thick lips anywhere near her. As she approached the huge tree in the center of the graveyard she forced her thoughts back to brighter things.

Jack. Sweet, funny, adorable Jack, he would make a fine husband. Tall and strong, just the thought of him made her whole body heat up. She bit back a wicked giggle as she sank down onto the small bench under the tree to wait, the paper clutched in her hand. It was the answer to her prayers; with this she and Jack would be able to marry immediately, though convincing Jack to go along with it might be a little problematic.

Happy with the thought that by the time her father caught up with them, she'd be well and truly wedded and bedded and far beyond his thick leather strap, she never noticed the figure that moved up behind her.

Dorothy Gibney fought for her life as she'd fought her father's tyranny, and died with her last thought on Jack.

Murdoch parked his bicycle against the outer wall of the cemetery. He adjusted his hat and braced himself, it was becoming harder and harder to slip into his protective shell of distance and control knowing she would be there probably kneeling beside the body. It amazed him how she managed to keep the miles of material of her skirts from dragging through the blood and gore she worked with. Then again she just plain amazed him... and infuriated him, he thought ruefully.

George Crabtree fell into step beside him as he headed towards the hive of activity in the distance.

"Good evening George."

"Evening Sir, it's not so good for Dotty over there." He said and there was a tightness in his voice that was unusual. Murdoch glanced over at him and noted the pallor of the younger mans face.

"You are unwell?"

Crabtree shook his head and sighed, then stopped. Murdoch bit back the impatience trying not to dig too deeply into whether it was because a body awaited his attention, or the pathologist that was attending it.

"I knew her Detective." Crabtree said. That got Murdoch's complete attention. Questions whizzed through his head, but he bit them all back for the more pressing need to console his officer.

"Would you like to be excused from this one?" He asked wincing inwardly, doing this without George's boundless energy and sometimes quirky but always quick mind would lessen the chances of them solving the murder.

"No Sir. It's the least I can do for Dotty to see her killer brought to justice." He said, Murdoch eyed him but said nothing, just nodded and started back towards the scene.

He did not question George just yet, he wanted his mind clear and open to its own inputs and impressions, before any outside information could cloud it.

She lay like a small broken doll, propped up half on and half off the bench, her legs sprayed her clothing awry. Her head at an odd angle.

"Broken neck?" He murmured crossing himself and kneeling beside her.

"At first glance it would appear so." Julia's voice came from behind the tree and he craned his head to see her as she stepped into view. Despite the horrible circumstances and his focus on the job at hand, he could not stop his reaction to her. He ached. It was an almost physical pain just looking at her and knowing she would never be his.

"I'm going to have to perform a postmortem before I can give you more details," Julia said as she reached down and lifted her doctor bag, " but she fought so hard one of her shoes is stuck in the tree up there," she pointed then looked back down at the body.

"Good girl!"

Forcing his emotions back inside the iron box of his will he rose, stepped up beside her and looked to where the small boot hung in the branches.

"The force it must have taken to tear open the shoe and fling it up there is astounding," he murmured.

"She was fighting for her life." Julia said. She suddenly frowned and knelt back down over the body. Murdoch moved to look over her shoulder.

"Have you seen something Doctor?"

She stiffened slightly but said nothing as she gently pulled a fold of skirt aside, the dress was a dark brown, easily disguising the dried blood, "it looks like another injury, but it appears to be under her clothing not through," she shook her head and rose, "I won't be sure until I get her to the mortuary."

She beckoned to the constables carrying the stretcher and turned to Murdoch, "I'll bring you my findings when I have them Detective Murdoch."

It was like being slapped in the face. Despite everything that had passed between them she'd still called him William until today, and hearing her use his title like that brought a finality to their relationship that he was far from ready to accept.

"May I take her now?" Julia asked and he nodded. She didn't look at him again or even acknowledge him as she followed the stretcher. Another shot of pain arrowed through his heart, which must be riddled with holes at this rate.

"Her name is... was Dorothy Gibney. She lived with her father," George said as he moved up beside Murdoch, "he's probably going to be your top suspect, Frank Gibney was very hard on his daughter."

"Has her father been informed?" Murdoch asked trying to keep his eyes off Julia as she walked away, her hips swaying so enticingly and that saucy little hat sitting so jauntily on her head, the soft curls it nestled on reminded him of how she looked with all that hair loose and falling down her back. She'd taken his breath away that night, but then she'd always managed to do that.

"No sir, shall I do that now?" George was asking. Murdoch shook his head trying to get his head back to where it should be.

"Not yet, bring him to the station, I want to judge his reaction when we tell him." He murmured still watching Julia as she disappeared through the gates.

"Sir!" Georges voice brought his attention back, and he grimaced when he realized the constable had been talking to him at length and he'd stopped listening, again.

"I'm sorry Constable, you were saying?"

George waved the apology away, he knew what Murdoch must be going through, the woman he loved was marrying another and it hurt his very romantic heart. Not that he would ever admit it openly.

"The footprints sir, there is something odd about them."

"Odd?" Murdoch asked.

"Yes sir, I can't be sure because there are so many new prints now with everyone coming and going, but I got the impression that something did not match up with them. I'm sorry I can not be more specific," he shrugged. "The ground is too dusty for wax impressions but I think I could perhaps map out a drawing of some kind. It might help me to figure out what actually happened."

Murdoch patted him on the back, "Excellent idea, let me know when you have it."

Julia felt his eyes on her until she reached the street. It was strange how she always felt him, as if as soon as he got within range a strong thread of emotion ran between them.

She'd spent years trying to read his expressions, at first because as a woman in a mans world she needed to stay at least ten steps ahead of all the males around her, and then as a friend. It was only in the last years that she'd become almost insane with the need to see inside his head, get a glimpse of the emotions she desperately needed to believe he had. Now hard as she tried she could not shake the habit.

The distant ring of a church clock made her start, and she bit back the curse that wanted to slip out. Darcy would be angry with her if she came late to yet another function, he'd been very terse with her for leaving in the middle of dinner. For a moment uncertainty made her steps hesitate, but she squared her shoulders and continued.

"Julia!"

Darcy's voice made her swing around as she reached the street. There was a plush carriage sitting on the curb, Darcy opened the door and beckoned her into it.

"What are you doing here?" She asked as she let him help her inside. His face seemed pinched and distant.

"Tonight is very important Julia, I can not have you being tardy."

Julia sighed but said nothing. She looked down at the ring on her hand and realized she'd not really thought the consequences of saying yes through.

"I'm afraid that is part of my job Darcy, I will always be called away at odd moments. Sadly people are not murdered only during working hours."

"Well it is not something we need to worry about after we are married, so I apologize for being a little short with you Julia," He said lifting her hand and kissing the knuckles, another sign that she'd not done a lot of thinking, there were none of the shivers running up and down her spine as she got when William just looked at her.

"I don't understand? How are things going to change when we are married?" She asked, still too distracted to heed the warning bells that were going off all over her head. They'd reached her little town house and Darcy handed her down before answering.

"You obviously won't be working as the coroner, you will be much too busy with your duties to me and our home," He said giving her an impatient look. Julia stopped short, completely stunned by his statement, and the fact that he gave her a little push to get moving did not go unnoticed either. It became suddenly clearly and painfully apparent that she has made a very huge mistake.

She let him steer her into the house but waved her butler and the maid away as they waited for her hat and coat. Ignoring the surprised look on all their faces she marched through to the first drawing room and stood in the center of it, hands on hips like a gunslinger.

"What on earth is the matter? Really Julia, there is no time for dallying, I have explained how important this is," Darcy snapped as he followed her in.

"Shut the door please." She ordered, and she suddenly realized by the expression on his face that this was not a man who enjoyed being ordered around.

When he would open his mouth to talk further she held up her hand, judging by the sudden fury in his eyes he enjoyed that even less.

"The dead deserve justice and the faster I get my information to the people that need it, the faster they will get their justice and the less bodies will pile up in my mortuary," her hand shot up again as he opened his mouth, when it clamped into a tight line she felt a very petty sense of satisfaction.

"Frankly my being at your fund raiser will in no way influence the amount of funds raised, it will however involve me leaving my work undone and perhaps allowing a vicious murderer to roam free to kill again," she took a deep breath and bracing her shoulders, jutted out her chin and met him square in the eyes, "I am not going to be giving up my job after we are married, whatever duties you feel I need to concentrate on could not possibly be as important as the duties I hold at the moment."

His face was like thunder, Darcy took a step toward her. Julia held her ground glaring him down, the clock in the hallway chimed the hour and she gave him a very small cool smile. "I'm afraid your rebuttal will have to wait Darcy, or you are going to be late, and under the circumstances I will not be joining you at the ball."

With that she strode past him out the door, took Darcy's hat and coat from her butler and held them out to him. "Good evening."

"I find this appalling behavior unacceptable in someone who is to be my wife," he snapped, Julia jutted her chin out.

"Then perhaps we should both reconsider," she retorted, Darcy said nothing, simply stormed out of the house.

It took about ten minutes after that for her to feel guilty. She'd known he was under a terrible strain, the hospital need all the help it could get. Why then was she not showing more consideration? It didn't take much for her to realize that she was sabotaging the engagement, and she did not want to admit why, even to herself. She nodded to her butler who was not even trying to hide the disapproving expression on his face.

"I will be home late Jarvis, please tell cook I won't be needing supper." She snarled at him and sailed out the door.