Don Gutteridge - Desperate Acts

“You were the last person to leave themeetin’?” Cobb began.

Sir Peregrine, who had settled his bulk in achair opposite Cobb, decided to adopt a bemused expression, as ifhe were the director watching himself play a scene. “Always,constable. I invariably have papers to collect and re-organize. Andas captain, I feel obliged to be the last man to abandon ship, soto speak.”

“I see. So you’d remember when the othergents left?”

“There were only four of them – three afteryoung Brodie departed prematurely – just before half past thehour.”

“You’re sure of the time?”

“I am. I requested Mrs. Budge to bring usmaterials for a toast – at precisely nine-twenty-five. She wasthree minutes late by my pocket watch.”

“So you an’ the fellas still there – Mr.Dutton, Mr. Fullarton an’ Mr. Crenshaw – went on with yertoastin’?”

“We did. But toasting is not an indefinitesporting event, constable. We toasted our success at launching anexciting new dramatic project, the fruits of which you may haveobserved in the next room, and then we toasted the Queen.”

“An’ this would take how long?” Cobb had hisnotebook open and his pencil poised, but he was mainly concernedwith checking the time-line he had sketched there, the one he andMarc had worked out.

“Oh, about five or six minutes. Then I askedthe others to bring their scripts to up to me as I had somelast-minute alterations to pencil in on them, thoughts thatoccurred to me only after hearing the members read their parts forthe first time.”

Which must have been quite a shock, Cobbmused.

“So they didn’t leave right away?”

“No. Andrew Dutton came and stood beside me,we went over two brief excisions, he said goodnight to us andleft.”

“Through the coatroom an’ down the backstairs?”

“Yes.”

“Riskin’ any riffraff that might be in thealley just to avoid the taproom?”

Sir Peregrine’s gaze narrowed slightly: hecould detect the intimation of an impertinence at fifty paces. “Wenever experienced any difficulty in exiting via that route,” hesaid coldly.

“So Mr. Dutton left about a quarter toten?”

“Or a minute before, perhaps.”

“I’m curious, sir, why you gents, allbelongin’ to a chummy club, seem to leave by yerselves. Didn’t youever walk home together? Or share a carriage?”

The baronet offered Cobb his well-oiled,condescending smile. “But none of us have become friends yet, yousee. It is our intense interest in the Bard and his glorious worksthat have brought us together. Except for Fullarton, whom I sawoften this past summer, I have met the others only at thesemeetings and, at a distance, waved to them from my pew at St.James. Moreover, we take different routes when we leave. I like towalk up Peter Street in this fine weather and over to theGovernment park, where my driver waits for me with the brougham.Dutton goes east along Front to Jarvis. And Crenshaw usually rideshis horse here, leaving it in a stable around the corner.”

“What about you an’ Mr. Fullarton, though?You’re friends of a sort, aren’t you?”

“We might have been, but, since August, I’veseen him only here and at St. James. He has an invalid wife, youknow, and rarely socializes. Ordinarily he leaves here quite earlyin order to be home with her. Last night was an exception becauseof our play-reading. Still, he was next to consult with me, and aswe had only minor changes to his part, he hurried out – through thecloakroom – at about, say, ten minutes to the hour.”

“That’s very helpful, sir. So that wouldleave just you an’ Mr. Crenshaw?”

“A salient deduction, constable. Crenshaw, Icould see, was unhappy about having been assigned the role ofBottom, so I did not go over his part. I merely spent two or threeminutes explaining that it was the plum role.”

“Then he skedadelled?”

Sir Peregrine smiled. “I think that Yankeeismaptly describes the nature of his departure.”

“So Mr. Crenshaw leaves through the coatroomat about five minutes to ten?”

“A little before that, I believe. I know thatI immediately began sorting my papers and putting them in myleather case. I looked at my watch as I got up to leave, and it wasthree minutes to ten.”

Which, if the baronet were telling the truth,would bring him into the cloakroom too late to be of any help toBrodie. “Think carefully now, sir. When you were in the coatroom,near that window, did you see or hear anythin’ from the alley?”

“I don’t have to think carefully, constable.I did glance out the window as I put my cloak on.”

“What did ya see?”

“I saw someone running north up thealley.”

Cobb’s mouth went dry. “Any idea who itmight’ve been?”

“It was dark and shadowy with swatches ofmoonlight here and there. I can only say for certain that itappeared to be a young person of slim build who could run with somenimbleness.”

“A ruffian?”

“Hard to say. He was wearing a gentleman’scoat, I’m pretty sure, from the way it was flopping. And properboots, I’d say.”

“You didn’t see anythin’ else?”

“No. That was all. I just assumed it wassomeone in a hurry – nothing to do with me or the club.”

“An’ you went down the stairs and onto FrontStreet through the narrows at the side of the tavern?”

“I did. And took my usual route to theGovernment park.”

Cobb thanked Shuttleworth, who offered tosend along Andrew Dutton. While he was waiting, Cobb looked againat the time-line in his notebook. Brodie had bumped into Cobb onWellington Street about ten o’clock – the fact that he didn’t knowthe exact time was maddening – so Sir Peregrine saw either Brodieor the murderer running away. Duggan had certainly been dead whenCobb arrived on the scene shortly thereafter. Or else the baronetwas simply lying. If so, it could be because he himself was thekiller, having spotted the comatose Duggan in the alley andslipping out there after the others had left to bludgeon him todeath. But Shuttleworth didn’t know who Duggan was, and wasdefinitely too late to have witnessed the altercation and deducedfrom it the identity of the blackmailer (assuming, of course, he was being blackmailed). On the other hand, maybeShuttleworth did know who Duggan was – he could have hung aroundhis drop-point as Brodie had – but had lacked the courage to dealwith him until last night. If so, the situation in the alley wastailor-made for a safe, secret kill.

Cobb’s head was still spinning with theseideas when Andrew Dutton entered the room and sat down where thebaronet had been.

Dutton was a distinguished-looking fellow,Cobb thought. He had a full head of grey hair that had bleachedevenly with age. With his trimmed goatee, well-cut clothes andcompact build (no pot-belly here), Cobb could see how he might haveattracted two wives. As a barrister he had never been consideredmore than competent, but his father had been a successful member ofthe ruling Family Compact and had made sure his son prospered fromthat association. Now, though, there was more of a hangdogexpression in his face than the settled satisfaction one might haveexpected in a comfortably retired worthy. Having twice been made awidower may have taken its toll.

“How may I be of help, constable? BroderickLangford is a young man of sterling character, and I would stand upin any court and say so.”

“We need to know, sir, what you saw or heardwhen you left the meetin’ last night.”

“Right. The answer is, alas, brief. I was thefirst to leave, perhaps fifteen minutes after Brodie. I did lookout the window in the cloakroom but saw only the moonlight andthought about how pleasant my walk home might be.”

Cobb pressed Dutton further, but there wasnothing he could add. Dutton said how sorry he was, and left theroom.