Don Gutteridge - The Bishop's Pawn

“That proof enough?” Cobb said into thestunned silence of the room.

“How did you find him?” Marc said, trying notto look too surprised, and certainly pleased that Dick’s killer hadbeen so quickly and tidily apprehended.

“Dusty Carter spotted Mr. Epp runnin’ awayfrom the alley just about seven-thirty. I sent Wilkie to check outEpp’s shack. I myself went up to St. James to see if he was at work- ”

“You didn’t disturb anybody up there, Itrust,” Thorpe said.

“I talked with that uppity ever-rants at the vicarage,” Cobb said.

“Not the Archdeacon!” Thorpe was aghast.

“The other one, Hunger-for-it. ” Cobbwinked at Marc.

“Why didn’t you just go into the church andlook for Epp?” Sturges said, looking worried once again.

“He’d been to work – earlier than usual,”Cobb said, taking in all the rapt faces around him. “An’ then hedisappeared, in plenty of time to meet up with Mr. Dougherty an’stab him.”

“So you went on out to Epp’s place?” Marcprompted.

“Where Wilkie was standin’ guard. We went in,found this wretch stinkin’ of whiskey an’ covered with blood. So weborrowed Gandy’s butcher-cart an’ hauled him in here.”

“Excellent work, both of you,” Sturges said.He would speak to Cobb and Wilkie later about going off on theirown. “You’ve saved us all a peck of trouble.”

“And if the blackguard is feeling this much remorse,” Thorpe said, alluding to the whiskey-binge, “weshould get a quick confession out of him.”

“You don’t suppose he’s fakin’ bein’ asleep,do you?” Sturges said.

Thorpe’s eyes lit up. “Let’s interrogate himright now and get it over with. I’ve got to go to Port Hope in afew minutes and won’t be back till six. French, go out to the pumpand fetch a pail of cold water. We’ve all wasted enough time onthis matter.”

Gussie flinched, glared at his chief, foundno comfort there, and headed out into the yard.

“Don’t you think a confession can wait?”Robert said.

“Seems to me we don’t really need one,”Sturges said.

“That’s why you’re not a magistrate,” Thorpesaid. Sturges wanted to say that that had more to do with accentthan abilities, but didn’t.

Gussie came back in, lugging a pail of icywater.

“Pull his head back,” Thorpe barked atCobb.

“But I’ll get my table wet!” Gussie cried,horrified at what was coming. (He had been quick to remove all hispapers and ink-jars to safety when Epp had first been broughtin.)

“Damn your table, man!” Thorpe thundered.“Now, Cobb, do as I asked.”

Cobb took a handful of Epp’s greasy hair andpulled his head up. The eyes were even glassier, the lips slack,drool oozing down to the chin. Squeezing his own eyes shut, Gussiepitched a pail-full of water at the hapless prisoner – drenchinghim, Cobb and most of Wilkie. Epp blinked once. The lips trembled,and gave out a gurgle of sound – syllables perhaps but not yetwords.

“Aha!” Thorpe said. “He can speak.” Heleaned across the table to stare down his victim just in time toreceive the full force of Reuben Epp’s projectile vomit.

***

Marc, Robert, Cobb and Sturges were back in themagistrate’s chamber. The accused was now safely ensconced in acell of the adjoining jail, conscious but still babbling nonsense,like a holy roller. James Thorpe had been cleaned up and was on hisway to Port Hope. A distraught Gussie French had been sent home torecuperate from shock, with orders to return by six o’clock, whenthe prisoner would be properly interrogated by the magistrate andhis confession written out in legal form.

“What did you want to see us about – out ofthe magistrate’s hearing?” Robert asked Marc when they had seatedthemselves.

“Several things,” Marc said. “First of all,even if Epp recovers his wits long enough to be usefullyinterrogated, there is no guarantee that he will automaticallyconfess.”

“But how else could he explain all that bloodon him?” Cobb said, more miffed at Marc’s quibbling than concerned.They had their man. And Cobb had cornered him.

“It is conceivable that he may claim hemerely came across Dick’s body lying in the alley, tried to turnhim over to help him or see if he were alive, and thus got theblood all over him.”

“But what would he be doing in that alley atseven-thirty?” Robert said, playing prosecuting attorney, for whichhe got a grateful nod from Cobb.

“I suppose he could claim he was feeling ill,went to St. James early to open the doors and do his morningchores, then headed home – which would put him at the scene aboutthe right time.”

“Doesn’t Epp usually walk on the street ?” Sturges said, looking at Cobb.

“That’s what I been told,” Cobb said.

“He could say that he just happened to spotthe body from King Street. After all, it was lying only a few yardsinside the alley. Then when he saw the blood all over himself, hepanicked and stumbled away up the alley and along the service lanewhere the baker spotted him.”

“You plannin’ to be Epp’s defense lawyer?”Cobb said peevishly.

Marc smiled, though every thought and imageof what had happened in that alley made him want to weep or rage.“Not at all, old chum. I do believe, like you, that Epp did it. Mychief concern is that he will not, or will not be able to, give usany kind of usable confession.”

“In which case,” Robert said, “we will bewise to gather as much physical and circumstantial evidence as wecan.”

“Precisely. Wilf, I think you should sendWilkie, Brown and Rossiter out to canvass the route Epp might havetaken to and from St. James this morning. We need witnesses notonly to track his every move, but someone who might have seen thatdirk on his person. It’s a long shot, but it’s worth pursuing. Thatis, of course, if Thorpe can get nothing sensible from Epp thisevening.”

“What about the Melton notepaper?” Robertsaid. “Where on earth would a simple fellow like Epp, living in ashack, get hold of such expensive stationery?”

“That question has been niggling at me, too,”Marc said.

“I can’t see Epp having cozy conferences withthose New York lawyers we were talking about earlier,” Robertmused.

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to talk withthem,” Marc said. “For Brodie and Celia’s sake, it might help forthem to know what actually did happen to dispossess them of theircountry.”

“Those gentlemen may well decide to gostraight home when they hear of Dick’s death,” Robert said, thenadded, “But I’ll be happy to look them up this afternoon, if youlike.”

“I just thought of somethin’,” Sturges said.“Somethin’ the magistrate ain’t goin’ to like.”

“Are you thinking, as I am, that Epp may havehad access to the vicarage?” Marc said.

“I am. Those vicars are certainly fond offancy notepaper.”

“Let’s leave that barrel of oysters unopened,shall we?”

“I agree,” Marc said. “Meanwhile, Cobb, youand I will team up, as we have done in the past, and return toEpp’s shack. I take it that you and Wilkie did not have time for athorough search of the place.”

“It was as dark as a tomb in the place,” Cobbsaid, “an’ we wanted to get Epp in here as soon as we could – tosave you an’ the Chief wastin’ yer energies.” Cobb’s wry grinacknowledged Marc’s attempt to minimize his failure to do a propersearch out there.

“Then we’ll take a lantern with us,” Marcsaid.

***

In the event, they took two lanterns with them.Despite Cobb’s forewarning, Marc was shocked at the shabby,pitiable room in which Reuben Epp had lived for more than a decade.On route, Cobb had filled Marc in on what was generally known aboutthe man. Epp had arrived in Toronto a decade ago (a year or soafter Cobb himself), brought here, it was said, from the easternpart of the province by Quentin Hungerford at the behest of afriend and subsequently approved by Strachan himself. He had beentaken on as verger, and while he was religious to a fault, he wasalso a binge drinker. Cobb then mentioned how defensive theReverend Hungerford had seemed when Cobb had questioned him aboutthe verger’s actions this morning.