Don Gutteridge - Unholy Alliance

“You don’t know of any loud-an’-numb bein’ used down here by any chance?”

Bragg stiffened. “’Course not. Mr. Macaulayis strict about drugs of any kind. If we need medicines, he has thedoctor supply them, an’ he pays. He’s a good man. We all feelterrible that he’s got mixed up with the likes of GravesChilton.”

“Do you keep wine in yer room?”

“What the hell are you drivin’ at? We don’tneed to keep wine or anythin’ else in our rooms. Mr. Macaulay givesus enough fer our meals, from his own cellar. You think justbecause it was a servant that got killed that the culprit’s got tobe one of his own kind, don’t you? Well, I didn’t kill him, an’neither did anybody else down here. Why don’t you poke yer whiskeynose about upstairs an’ leave us alone!”

Cobb made as if to write this remarkablestatement down in his notebook. Then he glanced up and tried tolook stern. “Where were you at midnight last night?”

Bragg, who was already quite agitated, beganto shake with anger. “Damn you, Cobb! I was in bed, and I stayed inbed all night!”

“You come down here about a quarter to ten,with Miss Finch, from yer duties upstairs an’ the two of you wentstraight to yer rooms?”

“Where else would we go? Into the parlour forbrandy an’ cigars?”

“Can you prove you didn’t sneak out after allwas quiet an’ go skulkin’ about upstairs, where you might’ve seen alight in the butler’s office?”

Bragg looked as if he were about to lungeacross the table and throttle his interrogator, but caught himselfjust in time. Instead, he sat back, and let his entire body relax,as a satisfied smirk lit up his face. “If you must know, constable,I was not in my own room or my own bed.” He paused to let thesalacious implications of this manly revelation sink in, and waitedfor Cobb to respond. He was now enjoying himself.

Cobb had little choice but to ask, “Whoseroom were you in, Mr. Bragg?”

“I shared a warm bed with Priscilla Finch.All night. An’ we didn’t do a lot of sleepin’.”

Cobb kept eye contact as he replied, “Talkin’philosophy, I take it?”

Bragg snorted. “We were doin’ things thelikes of you only dream about.”

“Enough so’s she’ll remember you bein’there?”

“If you got any more accusations to make,make ‘em now, Cobb. I got work to do.” Without seeking Cobb’sassent, he got up, kicked the chair aside, and ambled out. As hereached the stairs, he began to whistle.

Cobb was so hot under the collar he thoughtit might ignite and incinerate his tie. He had put early money onAustin Bragg at short odds, but if the pompous braggart really hadan airtight alibi, then all bets were off. For the moment, though,he had only Bragg’s word about whose bed he had shared.

When Hetty Janes poked her head in a fewmoments later, he asked her to fetch Priscilla Finch.

Although Prissy had managed to stifle her tears, theaftermath of prolonged weeping had left her pretty face devastated.Even her dazzling flaxen curls had gone limp. If she and Bragg hadtangled and tingled all night, Cobb thought, the discovery ofChilton’s body had dampened down those delights pretty quickly.That is, if they had been delights.

Cobb tried to get her to stop nibbling at theknuckles on her right hand and teetering on the edge of the chairacross from him — by taking her gently through her routine actionsat supper and afterwards. To no avail. Her answers were brief andguarded. Something was going on here, beyond her understandableupset of the early morning, he thought.

He persevered. “You turn down the gentlemen’sbeds at night an’ tidy them up the next mornin’?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did you happen to notice any bottles ofliquor or wine among the gentlemen’s effects whilst carryin’ outthese chores?”

Prissy went chalk-white. “I did not! I’m nota snoop! Mr. Macaulay wouldn’t like that, would he?”

“’Course he wouldn’t. I didn’t mean to sayyou was a snoop, but one of the gents could’ve left his bottle ofcomfort, like, on his night-table.”

“Well, I didn’t see none.”

“Fine. That’s very helpful, Prissy. An’that’s all I’m doin’ here — beggin’ yer help.” He flashed her theCobb grin.

She waited, unsmiling.

Cobb kept his voice perfectly level: “Youfinished yer chores, then, an’ come down here an’ went straight tobed in yer room?”

Prissy began trembling all over, and Cobbfeared she would burst out bawling and he would be forced to endthe interrogation, as he never knew how to handle a weeping female.“Anythin’ you tell me, Prissy, is confa-dental. Nobody elsewill need to know. I promise.”

Prissy dropped her pretty chin on thestarched border of her apron and kept it there as she said, “Austinan’ me are plannin’ on gettin’ married, as soon as we get enoughsaved up.”

“I see,” Cobb said in his most fatherlymanner. “So you sometimes cuddle in together — to keep warm on achilly night?”

“Once or twice. I know it’s wrong, but — ”

“An’ you an’ Mr. Bragg were in your room all last night?”

Prissy nodded.

Damn! Cobb said to himself. There goes twosuspects with one blow. While he was willing to think Bragg a liarand exaggerator, the emotions gripping this pretty but patheticyoung woman before him were unquestionably genuine. She and Braggwere lovers. And yet, he suddenly remembered, Marc had mentionedthat the butler had made a play for Prissy, though it was unclearwhat her response had been. But if Bragg had found out, he wouldhave had a much more compelling motive than ridding Elmgrove of anoverbearing butler. Still, if Prissy stuck to her story, nothingfurther could be done about Bragg — for now. Cobb decided not topress the girl any longer, wary of the female floodgates. Insteadhe said, “You been very helpful, miss. An’ yer secret will be safewith me.”

She mumbled a thank-you, got up slowly, as ifin a daze, and left.

That her affair was a secret here in theclosed community of servants was doubtful, to say the least, Cobbmused. Mrs. Blodgett would know all, chapter and verse. Still, thiswasn’t the old country, thank the Lord, and such goings-on amongthe staff were seldom cause for alarm or dismissal, especially ifthe business was kept discreet. Loyal and competent servants wereas scarce as hen’s teeth in Toronto. Even illegitimate babies weretolerated and often raised in the household, despite the ravings ofseveral churches. Cobb approved heartily. He despised hypocrisy,and found so-called class divisions a prime example of thatparticular human failing.

Back in the kitchen proper, he was glad tosee Hetty busy setting out a plate of ham, rolls and butter for himon one of the several sideboards.

“Help yerself to a glass of ale,” she said,indicating a small cask with a convenient spigot sticking out ofit.

“Is Tillie available to see me?” he said,sidling up to the food.

“She said she’d come out in fifteen minutes.She’s changin’ Mrs. Blodgett’s sheets. I got to go out to the shedan’ scrub chamber-pots. You’ll be all right here on yer own?”

Cobb eyed the cask of ale. “I’ll manage,” hesaid.

Cobb was just brushing the crumbs off his lapelswhen Tillie Janes poked her head out the door of Mrs. Blodgett’ssitting-room at the rear of the kitchen and said sweetly, “I’ll beanother fifteen minutes, sir.”

A fresh mouthful of bread and ham preventedCobb from objecting, so he resigned himself to another half-glassof warm ale. Then he went quickly to the hallway and turned rightinto the servants’ living quarters. Off a narrow, uncarpeted hallthere were four doors on the left and one on the right at the farend. Without knocking he went into the first one on the left. Aman’s room. And from the clothes in the rickety wardrobe he deducedit was Bragg’s sleeping den. It took no more than three minutes tosearch the threadbare, Spartan place where Bragg must collapseexhausted at the end of each day. The narrow window looked as if ithadn’t been opened since summer. In the adjacent room Cobb turnedover two pretty uniforms before realizing he was in the bedroom ofMrs. Macaulay’s maid, Phyllis. He gave the place a quick searchanyway. Next came another man’s room, stripped clean of everythingnot nailed down: the onetime abode of the self-exiled malcontent,Giles Harkness. At the end of the hall on the left he found thesomewhat larger and windowed room of Hetty and Tillie Janes. Theyshared a single bed covered by a brightly patterned quilt. He foundnothing of interest.