Don Gutteridge - Unholy Alliance

“He’s not a violent man,” Bessie was saying to Cobb.“Horses don’t take to violent men. He keeps half a dozen straykittens in his little cabin beside the barn. When one of our horsesgets sick, he sleeps in the stall next to it.”

Cobb fingered the bruises on his neck. “I c’nsee why he’d be protective of you , but why go after me whenyou were a room away?”

Bessie smiled, despite her nervousness. Shehad been eyeing Cobb closely ever since they had sat down at thetable in the dining-area near the comfort of the fire Cobb hadbuilt earlier. Graves Chilton had reluctantly agreed to let Brutusescort him into the kitchen, where the stableman had fired up thecooking-stove and offered to help the butler into the clothes hehad not seen for eleven days.

“Brutus wasn’t protecting me,” Bessie said.“He thought you were going to hurt dear Graves.”

Cobb was taken aback, even though he knew heshould not be, given the bizarre goings-on among these eccentriccharacters. “But I heard you told yer lover that Brutus was alimb-tearin’ brute.”

“Unfortunately, that was Graves’s firstimpression of the gentle soul, and nothing I could say thereafterwould change his mind.”

“And I suppose it wasn’t you who told thefella he’d landed in the middle of a forest surrounded by bears an’ice?”

“A figment of his overheated Englishimagination. He had become terrified of our woods during thecoach-ride from Kingston — all those trees and no people. He wasdeathly sick by the time he staggered in here.”

“An’ you calmed him down with a cup of cleartea?”

“He passed out before he could drink it. Wecarried him into my quarters and put him to bed, and told thecoach-driver to carry on without him. He had his ticket to Toronto,and we figured we’d put him on the coach when it came here the nextafternoon, along with his baggage.”

“An’ he ain’t recovered yet?”

She smiled again, less nervously this time.“He was fine by Wednesday morning. Feeling quite perky, if you knowwhat I mean.”

“Assisted by a cup or two of yer bestwhiskey?”

“He spotted my supply on the table, and howwas I to refuse a sick and frightened man?”

“Who was also quite perky.”

“Well, he got perkier as he went along.”

Cobb heaved a big sigh. Part of him admiredher cunning and temerity as she attempted to mollify a man whose“ cousin” she had flagrantly abused and who himself had barelyescaped strangling at the hands of her henchman. “So you’re gonnastick to yer tale of a fella so un-armoured of the drink an’the fair sex that he curled up in yer pink nightie fer eleven daysan’ didn’t once beg to sniff the open air?”

“I doubt he’ll say otherwise,” she said,maintaining her bold stare on him.

“I guess we’ll haveta see about that when heremembers who he is an’ where he was goin’.”

“You aren’t his cousin, are you?”

“No, ma’am. My name is Cobb all right, butI’m a constable with the Toronto police. I been out lookin’ ferGraves Chilton on behalf of Mr. Garnet Macaulay, the gentleman whowas expectin’ him to arrive in town last week.”

“I see.” Cobb could hear the wheels turningin her head as she reassessed him and tried to decide where she nowstood. “Well, I’d say you’ve done a fine job in tracking him down.His baggage, I assume, has already been dropped off at hisemployer’s. Brutus put it on the coach a few days ago.”

Cobb smiled darkly at the brazen lie. “I’mafraid there’s more to it than that.”

“I thought as much.”

“The baggage did get there, but another fellacallin’ himself Graves Chilton arrived with it. An’ this one wasn’tbald like the one you waylaid. He had a head full of orangehair.”

“My word, an impostor! What is the worldcoming to?”

“An’ this one was spotted gettin’ out of acutter driven by your Brutus — in Cobourg on Thursday mornin’ oflast week — just in time to hop onto the coach fer Toronto.”

“I–I can’t know or be responsible forpersons Brutus might give a ride to on his way into town.”

“There’s no use lyin’ any more, Bessie. Likeyou said when you stopped Brutus from doin’ me in, the game is up.”He did his best to look stern as he added, “The impostor’sconfessed everythin’.” He considered this falsehood a minoroffence, given the string of whoppers he had just been subjectedto.

Bessie visibly sagged. So much of herundeniable appeal lay in her exuberance and good humour that Cobbwas shocked to see the flesh of her face droop into folds, and therosiness fade from her lips and cheeks.

“I haven’t a clue who the impostor was,” shesaid in a voice he had not heard before, and he was inclined tobelieve her.

“Then why did you agree to waylay the real — bald — Graves Chilton an’ keep him, ah, occupied fer almost twoweeks?”

“I didn’t really kidnap him, you know. I onlylocked the door when I thought one of those rubes in my taproommight wander back there and scare the shit out of him or youngCassandra might decide to practise her techniques on him.”

“We’ll come back to that. It’s the impostorI’m interested in. Why would you get mixed up in some loony schemeto send a fake butler to some fancy manor-house in Toronto? You’rean innkeeper, aren’t ya?”

Bessie sighed, and for the first time Cobbsaw in her face unmistakeable signs of the rough and challenginglife that she — and poor Brutus — had had to endure. “It’s allabout this place, Cobb. The Pine Knot is all Brutus and I haveafter a lifetime of effort. I wasn’t about to give it up without afight.”

“Whaddaya mean, give it up?”

“I’ve got a mortgage on the inn with the Bankof Upper Canada. Brutus saw some horses last spring that we justhad to have — if those vultures in Cobourg weren’t going to stealour business. I borrowed money to buy them. We’re doing all rightbecause of them, but I got behind in my payments to the bank.”

“They wouldn’t foreclose, would they?”

“I didn’t think so. But two weeks ago today — Sunday — a well-dressed gentleman arrives at my door to inform methat he’s learned from a friend of his at the bank that if I don’tcome up with the money due by the end of this month, the bank willtake my inn.”

“What made you believe him?”

“He had a letter from some bigwig at thebank. He wasn’t bluffing.”

“Wanted the place fer himself, did he?”

“Not at all. He would not tell me why, but hesaid he was willing to give me enough cash to make the payments dueand a lot more besides. I almost fainted, and I’m not exactly shy,am I? The sums he mentioned were damn near enough for me to own ThePine Knot outright.”

“But in order to get the money you had to dohim a big favour?”

“Yes. He seemed to know a great deal aboutme. And he didn’t realize it, but I had spotted his name on theletter he showed me, and I knew who he was.”

“What was the favour — kidnapping abutler?”

She smiled grimly. “He didn’t put it quitelike that. He said it was important to him, and to other importantpeople in Toronto, that a Mr. Graves Chilton, a butler en routefrom England, not reach his employer in the city when he wassupposed to. He needed to be delayed for ten days or so, that wasall. This butler would be aboard Weller’s stagecoach from Kingstonsome time in the week following that Sunday. My task was to invitehim in for a drink and find a way to keep him away fromToronto.”

“Did he know Chilton had a weakness ferwhiskey, an’ women?”

“Yes. I don’t know how he knew, but hedid.”

Whoever he was, Cobb thought, he also knewabout Bessie Jiggins’ attraction to men and her considerable appealto their baser instincts.