Don Gutteridge - Unholy Alliance

As he was leaving, he gave the interior walla sharp rap. To his surprise the partition seemed thick and solid.At least the staff would not have to listen each other snore.Directly across the hall he found Prissy Finch’s room, and althoughthere were more signs of a feminine presence and several frocks notnormally sported by ordinary housemaids, Cobb discovered no hiddenvials or bottles of sherry or pages ripped from the estate’saccounts-book.

Just as he stepped back into the warmth ofthe kitchen, Tillie Janes was emerging from Mrs. Blodgett’ssitting-room.

Cobb smiled and said, “No need to go inta thelittle pantry, Tillie. Looks like we got the kitchen toourselves.”

They settled themselves at the long table thestaff used for their own meals.

“I’m so sorry about the delays, constable,but Mrs. Blodgett — ”

“No need to apologize, miss. Illness ain’tsomethin’ we do to ourselves — usually.”

“Well, at least the dear, dear soul’s had aquiet night. It’s been some time since that happened.”

“I really need to ask you about last night,”Cobb said almost apologetically, “though I expect you were prettybusy right here.”

“I helped as usual with supper preparationsan’ the wash-up. Cal Struthers come in an’ pitched in real hard.Mrs. Blodgett fell into her chair about eight-thirty. We carriedher inta bed before nine. I decided I better sleep on the cotbeside her.”

“So, other than that sad business, nothin’else out of the ordinary happened?”

“No, sir. Nothin’.”

“Yer sister told me she heard you come outhere just after she went inta her room to sleep, about a quarter toten or so.” It occurred to Cobb that young Hetty must have had herbedroom door wide open to have heard her sister or anything else ofinterest out here.

“I come out to make Mrs. Blodgett a cup ofcamomile tea,” Tillie said quickly. “There was still hot water onthe stove.” She looked hard at Cobb, as if she were bracing for afollow-up probe.

“To help the old gal to sleep, eh?”

“Yes, sir.”

“An’ the two of you stayed together, inthere, fer the rest of the night?”

“All night. She’s been sittin’ up a bittoday, an’ takin’ some soup.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“You wanta talk to her — later?”

“Hardly seems worth it, considerin’ she wasmostly asleep an’ not amble-tarry when all the fuss startedupstairs.”

“Thank you, sir. You are very kind.”

Cobb considered himself so, but invariablyblushed when reminded of it. “I’ll just keep usin’ yer pantry, ifit’s okay,” he said. “I gotta make some notes.”

“Go right ahead. I’ll bring you in a cup oftea.”

“Could ya make that a glass of ale?”

He had just finished one laborious page when Tilliearrived with refreshments. Writing came hard to Cobb: his flawlessmemory worked far too fast for his strong, stubby fingers. Normallyhe would have returned to the police quarters at City Hall anddictated his findings to Gussie French. But that was not possiblein this case.

“Ah, lass, just in time,” he smiled.

Tillie nodded, set the glass and plate down,but did not turn to leave.

“Somethin’ else you need to tell me?” Cobbsaid quietly.

“Mrs. Blodgett said I should tell youanythin’ that might have to do with the awful business upstairslast night. She said you’d likely be lookin’ close at Mr. Bragg‘cause he an’ Mr. Chilton didn’t see eye to eye.”

“You heard or seen somethin’ to do with Mr.Bragg last night?”

“I did. But I never thought to mention itearlier. It didn’t seem to have nothin’ to do with Mr. Chiltondyin’ like that. Then I remembered what Mrs. Blodgett told me Ioughta do.”

“And I didn’t ask, did I?” Cobb said kindly.“So tell me now.”

Tillie took a deep breath and said, “Just asI was takin’ the tea in to Mrs. Blodgett, I heard Austin and Prissycome down from their duties upstairs. They turned into thehall.”

“To their rooms?”

“Yes.” She began to blush. “An’ they werehavin’ a fearsome quarrel.”

Cobb set his pencil down. “A lover’s spat,was it?”

The blush deepened. “They’re plannin’ to getmarried. I never heard them say a sharp word to one another — never. But they were both shoutin’. Austin was accusin’ her of..”

“Flirtin’ with the butler?” Cobbprompted.

Tillie’s fingers were splayed out at thetable’s edge, the knuckles white. “Kissin’ him, he said. In theother pantry, off the hall by the upstairs door.”

The episode Marc must have been alluding to,Cobb thought. And if this quarrel were so boisterous, why wasn’t itheard by Hetty, nearby with her bedroom door ajar?

“Did ya hear anythin’ that Prissy said?”

“She was angry, but her cryin’ made it hardto hear what she was yellin’ back at him.”

“How did it all end?”

“I heard Prissy stomp off down the hall an’slam her door. Austin shouted a bad word after her. I waited. Butthere wasn’t any more. I heard another door close, real quiet. Iwanted to go to Prissy — she’s real pretty an’ awful kind to me — but I had to take the tea into Mrs. Blodgett, didn’t I?”

“You did indeed,” Cobb said, reaching acrossand patting the back of her nearest hand. “An’ you were right tocome an’ tell me this.”

“C’n I go now?”

“Yup. Mrs. Blodgett’ll be expectin’ you.”

Prissy left quickly. Cobb picked up hispencil. Well now, he thought, Mr. Bragg was certainly riled up atthe thought of Graves Chilton grappling with his fiancée. Angryenough to plot the fellow’s death? It would have been easy for himto dig out a pilfered bottle of sherry he’d stashed somewhere, slipup to the dark rotunda, enter the bathroom, remove the container oflaudanum, go into the dining-room where the wide windows wouldprovide lots of moonlight for him to see well enough to doctor thesherry and pocket the empty drug-bottle. Then down the hall to thebutler’s office. A friendly chat. Amontillado as a peace offeringbetween two veteran servants, men of the world who’d gotten off onthe wrong foot, et cetera. Then pad your way back to your room,knowing that Chilton, already half-cut with whiskey from his flask,would drink enough of the sherry to kill him or, in the least,render him senseless and expose his drinking habit to a master whowould not approve of it one bit, who might well sack himoutright.

Cobb was certain he was on the right trail.Prissy Finch, the foolish girl, had lied to him in order to giveher momentarily estranged lover an alibi, a lie the blackguard hadgood reason to urge upon her.

Cobb heard Hetty Janes come back into thekitchen from the shed where she had been working. He stepped outand confronted her. She took one look at his face and burst intotears.

“I was gonna tell ya about the quarrel,” shewailed. “Honest I was. But I couldn’t see how it would help ya findMr. Chilton’s killer. An’ you never asked.”

“There, there, miss, no need to go weepin’ onme. I just need you to back up the story I already heard. Now sitdown an’ try to stymie yer sobbin’. It hurts my ears.”

Between sobs, Hetty confirmed her sister’saccount of the quarrel.

“Your room is across from Prissy’s, isn’t it?Did you hear Prissy go into her room an’ slam the door?”

“Uh huh. It shook the whole place.”

“An’ Bragg didn’t follow her in?”

Hetty stared at the floor. “No. He called hera — a bad name. He was hoppin’ mad.”

Cobb thanked her, told her not to worry, andheaded back into the pantry to work on his notes. As he did so, outof the corner of his eye, he noticed Tillie Janes standing in Mrs.Blodgett’s doorway. She had been eavesdropping on her sister’sinterrogation. The two young women looked at each other, and inthat instant something significant was silently communicated. ButCobb’s head was abuzz with more exciting matters. Prissy Finchwas lying! Austin Bragg had motive, means and opportunity!