Don Gutteridge - Unholy Alliance

“You are not a suspect, sir, but a potentialwitness who may help Constable Cobb and me solve this case andsalvage the political achievements we’ve made since Wednesday. AndI am not a paid policeman or investigator. I am occasionallyseconded by the police to assist them in murder cases, as I wasthis morning. I could hardly say no, especially in circumstanceswhere tact and judgement may be essential.”

“Very well, then. Proceed with the fictionthat I am merely a witness. I have nothing to hide in anyevent.”

“I didn’t suppose you had. Now, first of all,tell me what you did when you left the dining-room ateight-forty-five last night?”

“I thought this incident took place aftermidnight?” Tremblay said warily.

“Did you go right to your room?”

“No. If you must know, and I fail to see howit’s any of your business, I went up to my room for the purpose ofpreparing to take a bath.”

“But Erneste beat you to it.”

“Not exactly. He looked as if he needed itmore than I did — he hadn’t slept much in three nights. I patientlywaited until he had finished, and then ran my own bath.”

“A little past nine-thirty?”

“Probably.” Tremblay’s lip curled as headded, “Where is this going, Edwards? The butler wasn’t drowned,was he?”

“He was poisoned with laudanum from a bottleremoved by the killer from the shelf above the bathtub. Did younotice whether or not it was still there?”

“You think I may have removed it, waited tillthe rest of you nodded off, and then went straight up the hall tothe butler’s office and induced him to swallow it?”

Marc was beginning to seethe at these rudeand contemptuous remarks, but held his temper long enough to say,“Please tell me whether you noticed it there while you bathed.”

“I didn’t notice it and then again I did notnot-notice it. In short, I haven’t the slightest idea whether itwas there or not.”

If Tremblay were telling the truth, then thelast person to confirm its existence on the bathroom shelf wasBergeron, about nine-thirty. “Let me ask you another question,then. You were back in your bedchamber before your other twocolleagues retired about ten o’clock. Did you see or hear anythinglater on? Any sound or movement in your hallway?”

“How could I? I was asleep by ten-fifteen. Iam a sound sleeper.”

“You had no cause to leave your room in thenight? To visit the water-closet, for example?”

“Or commit a murder? And if I did so, Icertainly wouldn’t confess the crime to you, would I?”

“I repeat, sir, that you are not a suspect,”Marc lied. “I am asking you the question because I’ve been toldsomeone on your floor did leave his room around midnight. Thatperson may have seen or heard something he didn’t considerimportant at the time but in hindsight might be critical to thisinvestigation.”

“I fell asleep. Period.” Tremblay set hischin on his chest and dared Marc to continue.

“I do have one final query. Did you bring anywine or spirits with you or see such anywhere in the house that didnot come from Macaulay’s cellar?”

Almost resigned to these apparentnon-sequiturs, Tremblay sighed: “No and no.”

Marc smiled and sat back. “You are not happywith the accord we are going to ratify later today, are you?”

“Why should I be?” Tremblay snapped. “But I’mnot foolish enough to poison my host’s butler just to throw aspanner into the works. If this is an example of your prowess as aninvestigator of crimes, we have no hope of catching the actualkiller.”

“I was asking merely because I heard you wereplanning to stand for the new parliament — as a Nationalist, as a Rouge. ”

Tremblay looked daggers at Marc, but did notreply.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” Marc said,and turned his back to the man.

Louis LaFontaine was in every way a contrast to hisyoung colleague. He was mannerly, cooperative, appreciative of thedelicate situation Marc had been put in, and acutely aware of theimportance of the investigation. He asked after Beth’s health, andsat with perfect calm as Marc took him through the sequence of keyquestions he had asked the others. LaFontaine answered promptly butalways without elaboration. He was a man who husbanded his wordsand kept his feelings intensely private.

When asked about the bathroom and thelaudanum removed from it, he said, “I did not use our host’s bath,though I was tempted to. The room appeared to be unoccupied when Ipassed it on my way upstairs shortly before ten.”

Marc mentioned the sherry and his desire toknow where it might have originated. “Hincks wrote me that Macaulayhad an excellent cellar,” LaFontaine said, “so, as far as I know,none of us brought along anything to drink.”

“I’ve been told that someone was heardleaving their bedchamber upstairs about midnight. Did you happen tohear anyone in the hall at that time — while you were working onthe French draft of our agreement, perhaps?”

LaFontaine’s lips moved in the slight flinchthat stood for a smile among his few gestures. “Not unless I waslistening to myself.”

It was Marc’s turn to flinch. “Are you sayingit was you, sir, who walked down the hall towards the stairs atmidnight?”

“It was. And I walked down the stairsand made my way through the shadows towards the parlour, where Iwished to observe the fully risen moon shine upon the snow outsidethe French doors.”

Marc’s heart skipped a beat. At last, apossible witness to what happened in the little office next to theparlour. Perhaps LaFontaine had seen the light in there or evennoticed who the mysterious visitor might have been.

“Was Graves Chilton in his office, sir, whenyou approached the parlour?”

“Of course he was. He hailed me like a longlost friend, and invited me in for a chat and a drink. Naturally Iaccepted.”

Marc’s heart damn near stopped.

LaFontaine leaned across the table towards Marc witha look of concern on his face. “It was just a drink and a briefexchange of pleasantries, with execrable English on my part — nomore than ten minutes in all.” Then he added wryly, “I did notpoison the fellow.”

Marc was abashed, at his extreme reaction andat the traitorous thought that had prompted it. He recovered asbest he could, grateful again for LaFontaine’s unshakeable aplomb.“Would you mind telling me, sir,” he said at last, “precisely whatoccurred?”

“Certainly. Mr. Chilton was in the doorway ofhis bureau, having heard me shuffling down the dark hallway, and hebegged me to join him in a celebratory drink. I asked him what hewas celebrating, and he said the conclusion of his first week atElmgrove and his success in his new position. I thought, why not? Iwas too excited to sleep, and I too had something tocelebrate.”

Marc was pleased to hear that this man, whomight well lead their unified party to future glories and whoseemed so aloof at times, could be too excited to sleep. “So youentered the office?” he prompted.

“I did. Mr. Chilton waved me to a chairopposite him. On the desk lay a silver flask, and I realized, toolate, that the fellow had been celebrating from it for some time.Near it sat an uncorked bottle of sherry.”

“Were there any glasses?”

“No. I was afraid he was going to bid meshare his flask, but he smiled and asked me to drink a toast withthe sherry. It was, he said, a gift, and he did not wish to open itand drink alone. Relieved, I acquiesced, and he immediately excusedhimself and returned a minute later with two small crystalgoblets.”

“From the dining-room,” Marc suggested. “Didhe happen to say who gave him the gift?”

“No. I assumed it was from his employer,either Mr. Macaulay or his former one in England. But he never saidone way or the other.”