Don Gutteridge - Desperate Acts

Then, two nights ago, while Cobb had been onduty (and actually awake), someone had broken into the pantry atthe rear of Bishop Strachan’s Palace. When a maid noticed the baron the back door ajar, she sent for the butler who sent for Cobb.Expecting the worst, Cobb arrived in time to encounter a distraughtcook, who complained bitterly about the theft – not of her bestcutlery or irreplaceable pans, but of two loaves of bread and halfa dozen sweet-rolls destined for the Bishop’s breakfast table.

Convinced now that the only way to find theserious burglars (he was inclined to cheer on the starving fatheror youngster who had deprived the mitred master of his breakfasttreat) was to make use of his network of snitches, he had decidedto spend part of his evening seeking them out in their variouswatering-holes. Up at The Cock and Bull on York Street, he hadshared a flagon with Itchy Quick, but had got nothing useful out ofhim except that it was rumoured that most of the burglaries werebeing carried out by a single, organized gang. As for thepurloining of the Bishop’s breakfast, Itchy knew who had done itbut vowed he would never tell, however much money the police mightoffer as inducement. Cobb had declined to test the strength of theclaim.

He was now trundelling east along Wellingtontowards Bay Street, where The Crooked Anchor would no doubt beaccommodating Nestor Peck, the most reliable of his snitches. Cobbwas motivated, in part only (he assured himself), by the offer of aten-dollar reward, made by several worthies, for anyone – publicservant or ordinary citizen – who identified or helped capture thethief. While he did not consider himself venal, Cobb was worriedabout how he was going to pay his daughter Delia’s school fees forthe second term. But pay he must, for the girl was brilliant, andhe would not contemplate her “going into service,” as the slaveryof servantdom was politely termed. Miss Tyson’s Academy for youngwomen was not quite a grammar school, but there Delia could studyFrench, continue to read her Shakespeare, explore the pleasures ofmusic and painting, and so on. What she might do afterwards, he wasnot yet prepared to consider. What was important was that Delia wasnow thriving there, and had become fast friends with CeliaLangford, a senior student and occasional instructress in thejunior section. Surely this maddening colony he was born to wouldat last settle its political and economic future, and in it therewould be a place for people like his daughter, as well as his sonFabian. If what he had gleaned from Marc Edwards were true, theupcoming session of the Assembly would be the make-or-break pointfor Upper Canada.

The Crooked Anchor welcomed him in with itsfamiliar allure of pipe-smoke, the harmonious buzz of idleconversation, the aroma of fish-pie and bad breath, and the clinkand rattle of flagon and tumbler.

“He’s over there by the window!” thered-cheeked barkeep shouted at him. “Do you want an ale first?”

“Depends how thirsty the sight of Nestor’sugly gums makes me,” Cobb said with a wink. “I’ll give ya thedistress signal, if I do.”

With the rumble of the barkeep’s laughterlike a breeze at his back, Cobb sallied through the crowd to one ofthe few tables in the room. Nestor, nursing the dregs of his ale,motioned for the fellow sitting opposite to vacate his pew, thengrinned up at Cobb.

“You’re just in time, constable,” he said.“I’m about to run outta beer an’ shillin’s at the same time.”

Cobb sat down, and smiled – which seemed tooffer Nestor much relief. But when Cobb’s smile faded to a frown,Nestor said hastily, “Ya don’t believe me?”

“Where did you pinch them fancy duds?” Cobbsaid, the smoke in the room having cleared sufficiently for Cobb totake his gaze off Nestor’s sallow, rheumy-eyed face and take in thetie, clean shirt and suitcoat. Even the untameable tufts of hairhad been pomaded and parted stylishly down the middle.

Nestor feigned umbrage. “You know I don’tsteal, Cobb. I may be poor but I always been honest.”

“You always were. But them pennies youscrounge hereabouts or squeeze outta me wouldn’t pay fer thattwisted tie you’re sportin’.”

“You won’t believe this, I know, but I got mea job.”

“Not the verger of St. James?” Cobb said witha sly grin. Last March Nestor had become embroiled in a murderinvestigation being carried out by Cobb and Marc Edwards, duringwhich Nestor had entertained hopes of securing the cushy positionat the Anglican cathedral.

“No need to be cruel, Cobb,” Nestor said, buthe was still smiling, savouring the effect of his surpriseannouncement.

“Where, then? Who’d be addled enough to hireyou – besides me?”

“At The Sailor’s Arms, down by the – ”

“I know where it is. But even a divethat caters to low-life sailors an’ their lady consorts wouldn’tstoop so far as to take you on.”

“But they have, haven’t they?”

Cobb signalled for an ale. “In what cap-ass-idy ?”

“I’m a janitor. I go in three mornin’s a week- Monday, Thursday an’ Saturd’y.”

“To clean up the mess after the weekendcrowd, eh?”

“I do some of the heavy liftin’ that Mrs.Budge an’ that cute little Etta can’t manage.”

“You keep yer ugly peepers offa that girl,”Cobb said sternly. Then he chuckled. “I don’t suppose there’s muchchance of her fancyin’ a character like you.”

“I get five shillin’s a week,” Nestor said byway of deflecting Cobb’s insult.

“So you spent it all on them gentleman’sduds, did ya? Wanta look smart when you invite company inta thathovel of yers behind the tannery?”

Nestor attempted a smirk, and came close. “Igot me a proper house to live in now, a stone cottage out onWellington Street near Brock.”

“Near the chicken hatchery?”

“Right beside it,” Nestor said with evidentpride at having moved up from a tannery to a hatchery.

“An’ you rent this place and buy asuit on five bob a week?”

“Not at all. I share the rent with mycousin.”

This pronouncement really did set Cobb aback.He slipped the waiter a coin and took a long pull on his ale. “Ithought you was an orphan,” he said with a failed attempt to brushthe foam off his upper lip.

“You know I was. But that don’t mean I can’thave relatives.”

“An’ just how did you find a cousin who’d bewillin’ to share a hovel with ya?”

“I didn’t. He found me. Arrived outta theblue from Quebec one day in August. Talked about my mother, who was his mama’s older sister. Knew a lot about her and a littleabout me. We hit it off right away.”

“I’ll bet you did.” Cobb polished off hisale. He realized that he was not going to get anything useful outof Nestor this evening, and perhaps not again for a good while. “Sothis fella helps pay the rent, does he? Got a job, too, hashe?”

“Not yet. An’ he’s in no hurry.”

“Borrowin’ from you in the meantime, I takeit?”

Nestor winced.

“That why you’re suddenly broke tonight?”

“He come with money, Cobb – the firstinstallation on his inheritance, from a great uncle on his papa’sside. He’s expectin’ the rest any week now.”

“And I’m waitin’ fer my knighthood.”

“But if I knew anythin’ about theserobberies, I’d tell ya. You know that, don’t ya?”

Cobb grinned, stood up, dropped a three-pennypiece on the table, and said, “I believe ya, Nestor. That’s anadvance – to help inspire ya, an’ tide ya over till yer cousin’sboat comes in.”

“Thanks, Cobb. You always been good tome.”

Cobb was about to leave when something madehim turn and say, “This so-called cousin of yours – he got aname?”