Don Gutteridge - Unholy Alliance

“Any particular kind of drink?”

“Oh, yeah. It was always sherry.”

Marc tried not to reveal the excitement hefelt. “I trust they were not taking it from Mr. Macaulay’scellar?”

“Oh no, never. Alfred kept strict track ofthat.”

“Where would they get it, then?”

“Giles got it from someplace in town. Henever said where.”

“I see. And as far as you know, Braggwouldn’t have taken sherry to his own room in the house?”

“Never saw him do so.”

“Did Bragg go to church last Sunday?”

“He went along with the rest of us.”

“Could he have had time to do some visitingwhile in town?”

“Could have. I took the Janes girls an’Prissy fer some coffee afterwards. Austin said he felt more like astroll. We all come back together about an hour later.”

“Was Bragg carrying anything with him?”

Struthers smiled. “If he did have a bottle onhim, it would’ve been well hidden in his big coat, so I couldn’tsay one way or another.”

“Could Bragg have left Elmgrove anytime onMonday or Tuesday?” (Chilton, Marc knew, had arrived on theprevious Thursday, so if any plot to murder him had been hatchedafter that, the window of opportunity had been small.)

“No way. I know when my horses’ve been used,an’ Austin was kept far too busy to have had time to walk to town.He’s been here at Elmgrove since Sunday at two o’clock. An’ we’vebeen so busy gettin’ ready fer this gatherin’ I doubt he could’vebeen off the property in the last two weeks, except ferchurch.”

Marc decided to change tack, grateful thatStruthers seemed incurious about the purpose or direction of hisquestions. “Yesterday afternoon Mr. Chilton asked Mr. Macaulay ifhe might be excused for half an hour or so while he came out hereto check on some discrepancy or other in regard to yoursupplies.”

Struthers frowned slightly but did not seemthreatened by the remark. “Oh, that. Big mix-up. I found themissin’ bags of feed under some straw that Cal tossed over ‘em bymistake.”

“I see. So you and Chilton agreed on thetotal?”

“Not really. Cal told me about the problemlast night after supper, an’ I went an’ double-checked.”

Marc could not hide his surprise. “You’resaying that Chilton did not come here yesterday afternoon?”

“That’s right. And if he did, we didn’t seehim. I was in the barn all that time.”

Puzzling, Marc thought, as it had been Braggwho had served them coffee around two-thirty in the library, notChilton. Where had the butler been?

Marc thanked Struthers and began to walk backto the house. It looked now as if Bragg had had access not only tolaudanum but to Amontillado as well. If Bragg and Giles Harknessdid plot the death of the butler, they knew that only an expensivebrand of sherry could be used as a gift, a “peace offering” and adeadly bait. The exchange must have been made after church onSunday. And there were lots of places besides his room where a wilyservant could stash such a bit of contraband. Now, if Cobb couldjust pinpoint Harkness’s movements on Sunday last, they could beginclosing the net over Bragg.

As he left the shelter of the cedar windbreaktwenty paces past the stables, Marc felt the icy nor’wester on hisface and pulled the collar of his greatcoat up over his ears. Hewas glad it was Cobb who was braving the elements.

***

Mrs. Sturdy sat across from Cobb in an overstuffedeasy-chair and offered him what she took to be a lascivious smile.Its effect, however, was somewhat dimmed by the smoking cherootthat hung perilously at the edge of one thick lip and by thetarpaulin-sized dress she had arranged to flatter her numerouscurves — its crimson and yellow tulips rippling and winking in amost distracting manner. Her right hand lay plump upon the greasydoily of the chair-arm, grasping and regrasping a glass of gin sopotent Cobb thought he could hear it sizzle. He had accepted aglass of it from his enthusiastic hostess, but had not yet raisedit above waist level.

“I don’t often get company on a Fridayafternoon,” she was saying, “especially a handsome gentleman of thelaw.”

“I’ve come on official police business,” Cobbsaid with one eye on the precarious perch of the live cigar. “I amlooking for information on a boarder of yours, Giles Harkness.”

Mrs. Sturdy guffawed, and her cheroot landedon the rag rug beside her chair. She stamped it out with one savageblow of her leather slipper, as she said to Cobb, “I take it you’rereferrin’ to the gentleman who puked all over yer boots onmy verandah a coupla weeks ago?” She raised her gin-glass towardsher mouth, but snorted so vehemently at her own witticism she hadto stop it mid-way and watch it splash across her lap. “God damnit!” she cried, still laughing. “I hate to waste the stuff on agood dress!”

But Cobb was not eyeing the gin-stain seepingamong the tulips. He was reminded once again of that incident onthe verandah: not the vomit on his boots but the threat thatHarkness had made. Cobb could not remember its precise nature, buthe knew it was made against Elmgrove and that it had been utteredin deadly earnest. It was clear now that Giles Harkness had to beconnected somehow with the murder of Graves Chilton. Even thoughHarkness could not have known the man, he must have viewed him as ausurper, and would have found a ready ally in Austin Bragg. Butwhen could they have met to collaborate?

“What can you tell me about Harkness?” Cobbasked after a pause, in which his hostess found time to lightanother cheroot with a nearby candle.

“Well, for one thing, he ain’t here,” shesaid, finally getting the gin where she had been aiming it, andcapping the pleasure with a hefty puff on the cheroot.

“You mean he’s left yer place?”

“I do. The bastard skedadelled a week agoSunday. Up an’ left early in the mornin’, owin’ me fifty cents rentmoney. If he ever shows his ugly mug here again, I’ll run his ballsthrough my sausage-grinder.”

Cobb sighed. Harkness apparently haddisappeared just two days after that Friday evening when Cobb haddragged him out of The Cock and Bull and dropped him on Mrs.Sturdy’s porch. This was not the sort of news Cobb wished to hear.“Any idea where he went?”

“I know exactly where he went.”

“Outta town?”

“All the way to Burford, a hundred milesoutta my reach!”

“How do you know this, if he just up an’ tookoff?”

“Found a letter in his room, didn’t I? Seemssome farmer down that way raises a few horses an’ heard our friendwas outta work. The letter invites him to come down an’ try hishand at tamin’ them broncos. But the only thing I ever seen himtame was a bottle of cheap sherry.”

“I’d like to see this letter, if Imight.”

“I’ll get it fer ya. Meanwhile, unbutton thatdreadful jacket an’ make yerself comfortable.”

She got up with some difficulty and lumberedinto one of the nearby rooms. Cobb tried not to watch her tulipsshimmy. A minute later she came out with the letter. Cobb read itright through. It was definitely a job offer from one SimeonMortimer near the village of Burford.

“An’ you’re sure he left town on account ofthis?”

“I’ve had two of his drinkin’ pals lookin’out fer him. He ain’t appeared in any of his usualwaterin’-holes.”

Disappointed, Cobb realized there was littlemore to be gained here. At the door, he tried one last question.“Did Harkness ever have any contact, here or elsewhere, with afella named Austin Bragg?”

“Don’t know the name. An’ Mr. Harkness didn’tentertain a lot.”

Cobb thanked her and headed down the porchsteps.

“Hey,” Mrs. Sturdy called after him, “youain’t touched yer drink!”