Don Gutteridge - Desperate Acts

“Who left first, then?”

“I was over at the lounge area cleaning upthe earlier mess – Etta’s job normally – and I noticed Mr.Langford, a real young gentleman, nod to the others and head forthe cloakroom like he was in a hurry.”

“He didn’t stay to take a toast with theothers?”

“No. The rest of them clinked glasses andseemed very jolly. This clinking went on for about ten minutes orso, but I could see that the meeting was about to break up. I washappy about that because I was really needed downstairs. Nestor washelping with the bar – and breaking more glasses than hefilled.”

“Sounds like Nestor. So, did you stay upthere long enough to see anybody else leave?”

“I did. Mr. Dutton, that fuddy-duddy oldlawyer, got up, took his papers with him and went into thecloakroom. I heard him stumble on the stairs going down.”

“They usually went out the back way?”

“Yes. They preferred the ordinary alley atthe side to the excitement of the bar.” She eyed him closely to seeif he picked up on the irony in her remark.

“ Hobble-son’s choice fer a gentleman,”Cobb said, deliberately distorting Mr. Hobson’s famous name. “Sothis would be about a quarter to ten, then?”

“Roughly, yes.”

“Who went next?”

“Mr. Fullarton, the banker, and Mr. Crenshaw,the trumped-up candle-maker, went and sat next to Sir Peregrine andhuddled over some leaflets they all had. They were muttering and hewas scratching at their papers with a pencil.”

“What then?”

“Mr. Fullarton got up and went into thecloakroom.”

“How long would this be after Duttonleft?”

She paused to reflect, drawing the lids downover her pretty eyes. “Couldn’t have been more than three or fourminutes.”

“I see. That would make it about ten minutesto ten?”

“I can’t be absolutely sure, of course. Atthat point I went downstairs.”

“Leavin’ Sir Shuttlecock an’ Crenshaw stillat the table?”

“As I was going downstairs I heard footstepsheading for the cloakroom.”

“I see. Probably that was Crenshaw, eh?”

“Most likely. The Englishman was always thelast to leave. He had to fuss with his papers and such. I usuallygo back up about a quarter past ten to bar the doors, but it waslater last night because you arrived a few minutes before that -and the real fuss began.”

Cobb was excited. If Brodie’s account wereaccurate, any one of these Shakespeareans could have observedBrodie’s encounter in the alley through the window in the rearwall. Brodie estimated that his circling-back manoeuvre and hiswait in the shadows had taken at least fifteen minutes. Which meantthat he and Duggan had confronted one another betweennine-forty-five and nine-fifty. If one of them noticed Brodiestrike Duggan once and scamper northward up the alley – without hiswalking-stick – then the lad was home-free. The news of Brodie’sdetention would soon be abroad, but Cobb knew enough aboutgentlemen to suspect that if one of them did observe a scuffle in adisreputable alley, he would pass by on the other side, andcertainly would not dash to the police to entangle himself in thesordid affairs of the common folk. Perhaps, to be fair, Brodie hadnot been recognized, and a fracas in that alley at that hour of theevening would not be exceptional. Still, willing or not, these fourgentlemen would have to be closely interrogated about thosecritical fifteen minutes.

“Is there anything else?” Gillian said with anice ambiguity into Cobb’s reverie.

“Ah, yes. Do you know anythin’ at all aboutthis Albert Duggan?”

“I’ve already told you I didn’t know hisname, but I did recognize him last night in the alley.”

“He come in here often to drink, did he?”

“Three or four times. But why don’t you getright to the point: you want to hear about Tobias throwing him outlast week, don’t you?”

Cobb flinched, but managed to say hopefully,“A troublemaker, then? Quick with his fists?”

“Not up to then. More the sly, slinking type,I’d say. Anyways, he said something crude to Etta last Wednesday,and she nearly fainted. So Tobias, who likes to play the he-manwhen he can, picked him up and tossed him out.”

“An’ that was that?”

“Didn’t see him again till last night. I mustsay I wasn’t sorry to find him dead.”

“Thanks, ma’am. You’ve been a big help.” Cobbrose to go.

She smiled. “I’ll tell Tobias you’ll be backto see him at one.”

At the door Cobb turned back to her and said,“I just remembered somethin’. When I come in here to fetch yerhusband last night, he said he was too busy to help out.”

“He’s been in an ornery mood of late,” shesaid. “Worse than usual. And we were run off our feet withoutEtta.”

“Then he woulda been in this room allevenin’?”

“Most of it, yes. But just before I had to goupstairs at nine-twenty-five, I sent him to the cellar to get acase of wine – some bigwig captain come in and demanded it for hiscrew.”

“But he was back up here when you come downabout a quarter to ten?”

“As a matter of fact, he wasn’t.” She seemedsurprised at this sudden recollection. “He doesn’t keep thingsorderly in the cellar, so I guess he took some time finding thewine he was looking for.”

“I come in here about ten after ten, Ibelieve – ”

“About that. And Tobias came up a few minutesbefore that. That’s why he was running around like crazy. Nestorhadn’t been a lot of help up here.”

Interesting, Cobb thought. Budge had been inthe cellar for almost half an hour – the critical half-hour.

“I’ll talk to him about it later,” Cobb said,putting on his helmet and turning up the collar of hisgreatcoat.

“It’ll be the high point of his day,” saidGillian Budge.

***

Cobb walked around to the rear of The Sailor’s Armsin the crisp sunshine, taking the broad alleyway on the east sideof the building. He stood near the spot where Duggan had beenclubbed to death. The victim’s blood had soaked into the dirt, butthe stain was still visible. Cobb looked up, and in the daylight hesaw that the window in the wall above was clean and wide. Themoonlight that had shone across the lower half of the corpse lastnight upon his arrival would have spotlighted the two men as theyargued and grappled here about nine-forty-five. Someone up theremust have seen something.

What he hadn’t noticed last night was anarrow window at the base of the rear wall near the east corner. Hewent over to it now and crouched down. A shallow well allowed afoot-high window to be recessed into the brick foundation, givingsome natural illumination to a room below ground. Cobb peeredthrough its dusty pane. Blurry but readily distinguishable wasBudge’s wine-cellar. Tobias himself had been down there searchingfor a case of fancy booze about the time that Brodie said he struckDuggan on the cheek. Glancing to his right, Cobb spotted somethingequally interesting: a double-doored service bay, through which thetavern’s beer-barrels and wine-casks could be funnelled to thecellar. He went over, reached down, and tugged at one of thehandles. Locked, from the inside. Well, Cobb thought, here was avery convenient way for someone in the cellar to gain the alleywithout being observed. Yes, Tobias Budge would have to bequestioned vigorously. There was bad blood between him and Duggan,perhaps more than even his sharp-eyed wife knew about.

Humming to himself, Cobb went around thewestern corner of the building to inspect the door at the foot ofthe stairs, the exit-point of these tavern-shy gents. He gave thedoor a push. As he expected, it was barred. But anyone leaving bythis route, though he would have turned left and walked down thenarrow gap between the tavern and the building next door towardsFront Street, would surely have heard voices in the alley behind.If so, would he not have been curious enough to have a peek? Orwould he have panicked and dashed for the street?