Don Gutteridge - Desperate Acts

“How is he?” she asked Marc.

“Holding up well,” Marc said, taking hergloved hand. “And he’ll be even better – soon.”

***

Beth was seated at the desk in the study, writing aletter. Two other letters lay open beside her. She looked up,smiled, then said quickly, “What’s happened?”

“Oh, a couple of surprises in the case,that’s all. I’ll tell you about them, if you’ve got a moment.”

“Ya mean, if Maggie don’t wake up an’surprise us ?”

“Something like that.” Marc nodded towardsthe half-composed letter. “Writing to the Iowans?”

“One to Winnifred, an’ one, later, toMary.”

Winnifred Goodall and Mary Hatch had beenneighbours of Beth when she and her first husband, Jesse Smallman,had operated a farm near Cobourg. They and their husbands had beencaught up in the maelstrom and aftermath of the rebellion two yearsbefore, victims of the hatred and thirst for vengeance it hadengendered throughout the province. It was said that as many as tenthousand farmers and their families had pulled up stakes, soldtheir land for a song, and moved to the far-off, nameless spaceswest of the Mississippi. The Goodalls and Hatches had been amongstthem, trekking to the Iowa territory and taking along with themAaron McCrae, Beth’s young, handicapped brother. Every time Marcwatched Beth read one of their many letters, he felt a rage buildup inside him – at the injustice and random cruelties that theabortive revolt had wrought. He and Beth, like countless others,had lost good friends, whom they would never see again. It couldnot continue. Robert’s obsession with responsible government and asecular state was directed aright. Upper Canada had to be made aplace where diligent and honest citizens could work, feel safe,seek justice under the law, and be ruled by those they elected. Andthat included Brodie and Celia Langford. Marc was not going to loseone more friend – whatever he had to do.

“I could finish this letter while you finishthinkin’,” Beth said wryly.

“Ah, sorry. Yes, I do have lots to tellyou.”

“Let’s go to the parlour, then. Charlene leftsome coffee on the stove.”

But they never got to the parlour, thecoffee, or their talk. Charlene had just flung open the back doorand rushed through the kitchen towards them. Her hair was askew,her sweater tied crookedly across her shoulders.

“What is it?” Marc said.

“It’s Etta next door! She’s bleedin’ todeath!”

Beth grabbed Charlene’s arm to steady her.“She’s cut herself?”

“Oh, no. She’s bleedin’ . . . you know . . .down here.”

Beth looked relieved and Charlene mortifiedas the girl aimed two fingers towards the lower half of herapron.

“Jasper’s gone fer the doctor,” Charlenesaid, “but Etta’s callin’ fer you.”

“I think we’ll need Dora as well,” Beth said.“You run over to Parliament Street an’ fetch her, as fast as youcan, and after you put yer coat on. I’ll go over to Hogg’san’ see what I c’n do to help.”

“Her mom’s just wailin’ an’ pullin’ at herhair.”

“Just go!” Beth said. “Please.”

Charlene disappeared back through thekitchen.

“Yer coat , Charlene!”

Marc, who was beginning to feel like a thirdthumb, said, “What about Maggie?”

“You’ll have to stay with her, luv. I’ll needCharlene over there as soon as she gets back with Dora.”

Before Marc could say he’d be happy to dothat, Beth kissed him on the cheek and said, “Don’t worry, she’ssound asleep.”

With that, she flew out the front door,coatless.

Just as the door banged shut, Maggie Edwardsdecided to wake up. Apparently she was not happy, and began tocommunicate her discontent – loudly.

***

When Beth got back an hour and a half later, shefound Marc dozing in the rocking-chair beside an embering fire.Maggie was asleep in his arms, teething on one of her father’sforefingers. Beth lifted the baby gently from Marc’s grip, changedher nappy, and tucked her into the cradle nearby.

“How’s Etta?” Marc said sleepily.

“She’s fine,” Beth said, slipping across toMarc and kneeling down beside the rocking-chair. “She did lose someblood, but Dora got it stopped quickly enough. She’s a wonder, thatwoman, as you know.”

“And Dr. Pogue?”

“He arrived in time to feel Etta’s foreheadan’ leave his bill.”

“What was wrong with her?”

“Well,” Beth sighed, “a lot more than bloodcome outta her.”

“What do you mean?”

“Etta had a miscarriage.”

“My God! But that’s not possible, is it? Thegirl has no boy friends and – ”

“That wee blob – about two months old, Dorasaid – wasn’t put in there by immaculate conception.”

Marc was, at last, fully awake – with hisantennae twitching. “Did she say who?” he said slowly.

“Yes, an’ you’ll never guess.”

“I think perhaps I can: Tobias Budge.”

“Been playin’ investigator, have you?” Bethsmiled. Then she frowned and added, “Her employer, eh, who was damnquick to dismiss her as soon as he found out. What a bastard !”

Marc winced at the word – Beth rarely cursed- but could not disagree with the sentiment it conveyed. “GillianBudge owns that tavern and the cottage they rent out around thecorner on Peter Street. If she finds out about the baby, she’lltoss her mate into the nearest sinkhole, face-first.”

“It gets worse,” Beth said, getting up togive the fire a poke. “The silly child says she’s in love with him,an’ don’t want us to do anythin’ to hurt him.”

“How did she keep Jasper from taking a hammerto the man?”

“It was Charlene. She grabbed him an’shouted, ‘I don’t want you hanged, too!’”

“So, even Charlene thinks poor Brodie is acandidate for the noose?”

Beth pulled up a chair next to Marc. “Doesthis business have anythin’ to do with Brodie?” she said. “Like theCrenshaw secret?”

“I believe it does. And it’s a positiveeffect. As you’ll remember, Tobias Budge has been on our list ofsuspects from the beginning – Cobb’s choice, I’m sure, as thekiller. But he did not appear to have a strong enough motive forbludgeoning Duggan to death. It’s almost certain now that Duggan,who cozied up to Etta at The Sailor’s Arms, was blackmailing Budgeover Etta’s pregnancy.”

“An’ holdin’ on to yer wife an’ yerlivelihood are powerful motives.”

“They are.”

“But what good does this really do ferBrodie? You plannin’ to beat a confession outta the barkeep?”

“Much as I’d like to, no. But Cobb’s joiningthe Shakespeareans up at Oakwood has produced other victims ofblackmail who could also have had reason to want Duggan dead.”

“Like Cyrus Crenshaw over that war-herobusiness?”

“Exactly. And we owe that discovery to you.And this one, too.”

“But I still don’t see how any of this isgonna be of practical use.”

“Then it’s time I told you about the defenseI’m preparing for Brodie.”

***

As he had done so many times for Beth in the past,Marc recounted the facts and theories of the case he was workingon. In this instance it took him nearly half an hour (while Maggieslept on) to flesh out the preliminary notes she had already seenand bring her up to date. He also knew better than to leaveanything out, however shocking or sordid. He revealed to her, asgently as he could, the dark secrets that Albert Duggan had soruthlessly exploited. As was her custom, Beth listened quietly,taking it all in – nodding or shaking her head from time totime.

“Well, luv, what do you think?”

Beth looked solemn. “It seems like you’replannin’ to ruin four lives in order to save one.”