Don Gutteridge - Desperate Acts

“That might explain how Duggan and Peck cameup with the dirt they needed. Nestor’s been workin’ at The Sailor’sArms since September, cleanin’ up an’ even helpin’ upstairssometimes. He’s got the ear of a jackrabbit when it comes toscuttlebutt.” He glanced again at the list. “But we got one leftover.”

“‘TB’ – Tobias Budge.”

Cobb whistled through the gaps in his teeth.“I wonder if he knew what Duggan was up to when he tossed him outlast week?”

“If he did, I doubt he would have tossed himout. Still, if Budge got to thinking things over, he could haveguessed who was trying to blackmail him. And the question-mark hereindicates perhaps that Budge, like Brodie, was a recenttarget.”

Cobb sat back and tried to absorb theunexpected flow of information. And while Cobb polished off his alein doing so, Marc stared out the window – thinking.

“You know what we have, Cobb?”

“A lot more’n we thought we would atbreakfast.”

“Indeed.”

“You plannin’ on summin’ up, count-seller ?”

“I am, milord,” Marc smiled. “First, we’vegot a clear time-line. About nine-thirty Brodie leaves and sets thetrap for Duggan. He circles about and, at nine-forty-five or so, heand Duggan meet, and exchange insults. Brodie knocks himunconscious, checks to make sure he’s breathing, then runs north upthe alley and out to Peter Street, leaving his walking-stick whereit had fallen. Sometime between nine-forty-five andnine-fifty-five, the four remaining members of the club leaveindependently, passing the cloakroom window and exiting no morethan five yards from that ashcan – around the corner. In thewine-cellar for much of this time we have Tobias Budge, with awindow of his own and an exit to the alley through the baydoors.”

“Which means one of ‘em must’ve seen or heardsomethin’.”

“Oh, but I’m sure it was a lot more thanthat.”

“You’re not imp-lyin’ that – ”

“I am. We began the day hoping to identifyone or more eye-witnesses who could exonerate Brodie. But thesefive potential witnesses are now murder suspects. ”

***

Cobb ordered another ale, and waited for the newlyminted barrister to continue.

“Let’s look at their behaviour in that light,then,” Marc said. “Dutton comes down first. I figure he’s a bitearly to have seen the encounter from the window, but let’s say ashe’s leaving the stairwell below, he hears Brodie shout as hesurprises Duggan. Or perhaps he even hears Duggan rummaging in theashcan and decides to peek around the corner.”

“In time to see Brodie coming down thealley?”

“Right. He hears enough to conclude that hereis the man blackmailing him also. Perhaps he’s thinking of rushingout and assisting – but Brodie knocks Duggan out and runs.”

“So Dutton decides to finish the job?”

“If he did, he likely waited until the othershad left.”

“Then I must’ve got there a minute or twoafter the clubbin’. I know the fella was still bleedin’ when Iarrived.”

“Fullarton leaves next. He could have been atthe window at the right moment to see the altercation, though hetold me he didn’t.”

“Killers’ve been known to lie.”

“Crenshaw leaves next. And if the encounteroccurred a minute or two later than we’re surmising, he too couldhave seen and heard it – and hid in the shadows until he could putan end to the vicious and prolonged blackmail.”

“Sir Party-grin likely left too lateto see anythin’ but Duggan lyin’ out cold on the ground.”

“Unless he followed Crenshaw out sooner thanMrs. Budge claims. But I agree that he is the least likelysuspect.”

“Still, he may’ve spotted Duggan earlier onin the month but was afraid to do anythin’ violent about it. Hehears Duggan groanin’ back there as he reaches the bottom of thestairs, goes back to take a look, spots the cane, recognizes thevillain, an’ before he knows it he’s done him in.”

Marc smiled. “You’re getting to be quite thehypothesizer, Constable Cobb.”

“I’ll take that as a condiment , major.Still, we can’t ferget tapster Budge peekin’ outta that cellarwindow.”

“I haven’t. And I wish I could go with you tohelp interrogate him, but I’ve got another important meeting.”

“If he’s hidin’ anythin’, I’ll weasel itoutta him.”

“I’m sure you will.”

Cobb drained his flagon. “I hate to say it,major, but we got a problem with these names.”

“I know. You and I are sure who theseinitials refer to and why, but we can’t go before James Thorpe withsuch flimsy evidence as a set of initials and suggest that fourpillars of the community and the proprietor of a public house areblackmail victims and murder suspects – certainly not in thispolitical climate. And one of them, Crenshaw, is a LegislativeCouncillor.”

“We could put Budge forward as a suspectbased on his run-in with Duggan.”

“Possibly. Though that alone isn’t likely toget Brodie released. What we need is some solid witness testimonyfrom the other four to establish that Brodie left the scene beforethe bludgeoning – even if one of them is the actual killer.”

“True, but I don’t look forward to trackin’down them Shakespeare gents between now an’ ten o’clock tomorrowmornin’.”

“You won’t have to. Brodie told me on the wayto the Court House this morning that the very four you need tointerview are going to be at Oakwood Manor this evening – for anearly supper and a dramatic reading of the play they’re planning toput on in a few weeks.”

“Lemme guess: Shakes-beard ?”

“Yes. Brodie had a part in it, and he wantedme to tell Horace Fullarton that he couldn’t be there and that hefelt he must withdraw, regardless of the outcome of ourinvestigation.”

“So you want me to head out there about seveno’clock?”

“You could interview all of them in an houror less. That way, we’ll have a full report to make to themagistrate in the morning – with enough evidence, I hope, to ensureBrodie’s release.”

“Well, that’s what I’ll do, then.” Cobbgrinned gleefully: “I’ll be as welcome out there as a polecat at atea party.”

As Gillian Budge had forewarned, Tobias Budge was ina very ornery mood. Which suited Cobb just fine.

“What about it? Can’t a tavern-keeper spendfifteen minutes in his own wine-cellar?” Budge snarled across thebar at the constable who had so rudely interrupted his preparationsfor opening-time.

“It’s the par-tick-ulars that interestme,” Cobb said, his nostrils flaring eagerly as Budge carried onwith bleeding a fresh keg of ale from Enoch Turner’s brewery. “Yergood wife tells me she saw you go down there just as she was takin’a tray of drinks to the gents upstairs – a little beforenine-thirty.”

“She did, did she?”

“I got no reason not to believe her.”

Budge scowled, bending his thick black browsinto a pair of fearsome vees and repositioning the variousplatelets of his face. “Some ponce of a sea-captain come in hereshortly before that an’ demanded half a dozen bottles of chateausomething or other for his crew, who’d trailed in behind him. Itold him we didn’t have any, but herself has to go an’ givethe game away.”

“She ordered you to go down there and dig outa case?” Cobb prompted with some delight.

Budge’s hairy-knuckled hands gripped the edgeof the bar as if they were itching to rip it away and use it as aclub on Cobb’s noggin. “So I went down stairs an’ shewent up , leavin’ that dolt Peck in charge of the bar.”

“Because Etta was off sick again.”