Don Gutteridge - The Bishop's Pawn

“Well, I recollected there’s a shortcut backof that hotel that could take you up to Lot Street near theentrance to Irishtown. You’d use it if ya wanted to slip across tothe bootlegger’s there without anybody seein’ ya.”

“I see,” Marc said. “You think Epp could havebeen spotted behind The American because he was sneaking off tofind cheap booze? Could we check out that possibility?”

Cobb feigned disappointment in his partner’sremark. “Already done,” he said. “That’s why I’m late gettin’ overhere.”

“You tracked down his bootlegger?”

“Easy enough. I asked Phil Rossiter, who hasthat patrol now, where Epp got his ill-lickit drink, an’ hesaid definitely at Swampy Sam’s place. So I go into Irishtown,riskin’ my neck in the progress , an’ roust Sam outtabed.”

“Did he admit that Epp had been there?”

“I had to provide a little persuasion, but hefinally told me that Epp come there about suppertime Sunday an’bought two jugs of whiskey. An’ he left right after. But I wouldn’tstake my life on Swampy Sam’s memory.”

“So that means that Epp could havebeen at The American Hotel earlier in the afternoon to meet withthe New York lawyers,” Marc said.

“And not in the main foyer either,” Brodieadded.

“There’s more,” Cobb said.

There usually was with Cobb.

“Sam said he paid fer the hootch – an’ caughtup on his tab – with a five-dollar Yankee bill.”

“Jesus,” Marc said. “I’ve been dreadingthis.” He looked at Beth.

“What can we do?” Brodie said. “We can’t letthem get away with murder.”

“Well, we sure can’t hop a whoopin’ crane an’fly to New York,” Cobb said.

“I’ll go,” Brodie said, his pale blue eyesflashing. “It’s my uncle who needs avenging.”

“But the roads are impassable,” Beth saidquietly. “It could take weeks. An’ what could you do there besidesaccuse these men? They’d laugh in yer face.”

“I’ll – I’ll think of something when I getthere.”

“It is I who must go,” Marc said.

“Whaddya mean, major? We don’t know fer surethese fellas are guilty of anythin’. There’s plenty of Americanbanknotes in this town, an’ Swampy was sure it was a five, not aten. Besides, we got some real suspects we need to talk to righthere.”

Marc was only half-listening to Cobb. “Weneed to eliminate Brenner and Tallman, if they are not guilty. Andthese men may also have information about why Dick was forced toleave New York in disgrace.”

“I must go with you, then,” Brodie said.“Celia and I deserve to know the truth that Uncle kept from us forour own protection. But we are not children any more. And we havedecided to make our own way in this province. We need to clearUncle’s name and start our lives here free of suspicion and thetaint of moral corruption.”

“You’re right, Brodie,” Marc said. “I meantthat it is I who ought to go. But, of course, I can’t.” Helooked now at Beth and her “condition.”

Beth had been listening with growing interestto the conversation. She touched Marc on the shoulder. “You mustnot hold back on account of me,” she said.

“But I must be here for the birth of ourson.”

“Well, as I recall, you weren’t plannin’ onhelpin’ with the delivery, were you?” She smiled. “Don’t befoolish, love. Dora is ten minutes away. Charlene is here day an’night, an’ Jasper would like to be. Besides, I’ll ask our daughterto wait a while. That shouldn’t be hard: women know how towait.”

Beth’s speech was met with various degrees ofsilence. Finally, Cobb said, “But until the roads get better afterthe spring rains let up, you can’t get very far on land. An’there’s still enough ice on the lakes to keep the bigger boats indry dock. I don’t see how you can get to New York quickly, or atall.”

“But we could,” Marc said, glancing atBrodie. “The Erie Canal will be unfrozen all the way from Buffaloto Albany by now. That’s the route that Brenner and Tallman weretaking.”

“But it could be dangerous there,” Cobb said.“All them Yankees an’ you a stranger.”

“I was a Yankee once,” Beth said,smiling.

“Well, I know many of the importantfamilies,” Brodie said with mounting excitement. “I went toboarding school with the sons.”

And Marc, though he didn’t plan on tellingBrodie just yet, had contacts of his own in New York. “If Brodieand I left on the early morning steamer to Burlington – icepermitting – we could cross over to Niagara and be in Buffalobefore noon. We can travel light and sleep on the deck of a bargeif we have to. From what I’ve been told, we might arrive onManhattan Island as early as Sunday evening.”

“But Sir Gorge’s might call fer the inquest aweek from next Monday. That’s about when our ten days’ll be up.”Cobb said.

“I think he might be persuaded to extend thedeadline,” Brodie said, “when he knows what we’re up to.”

“What’s really bothering you, Cobb?”Marc said.

Cobb gave his partner a sheepish grin.“There’s still a lot of interviewin’ to be done here, major. Youain’t expectin’ me to head up the case all by myself, are ya?”

“Why not?” Marc said. “You know what to doand how to go about it. Just mix in a little tact, as Sir Georgesuggested.”

“It seems I already got too many tacks,” Cobbsaid, still smarting from his encounter with the ReverendHungerford.

“Then it’s settled,” Marc said.

After a snowy January, the winter of 1839 had turnedunseasonably warm with frequent thaws, sleet storms and, finally inearly March, torrential rains. All this had made the roadsimpassable, and a sudden return to cold weather in the middle ofthe month had left the waterways dotted with ice-floes and morethan one ice-jam. However, several of the smaller, moremanoeuvrable steamers had begun venturing out into Lake Ontario,and an irregular mail-packet now plied cautiously between Torontoand Burlington. It was one of these latter that Marc and BroderickLangford boarded at the Queen’s Wharf about eight o’clock of aThursday morning. Only Cobb stood by to wave them Godspeed. Othergoodbyes had been said at Briar Cottage, several of themtearful.

Marc had sat with Cobb the previous eveningand gone over plans for the continuing investigation in Toronto.Cobb had taken home all of Marc’s notes to date just in case heneeded to refer to them. Now he stood on the wharf watching hisbreath balloon in the crisp, clear air, and realized that he wastruly on his own as investigator. Marc insisted that he and Brodiewould be back in ten days, but North America wasn’t England: anysort of travel here was hazardous and wholly unpredictable.Moreover, no-one knew what kind of troubles Dick Dougherty had beenembroiled in back in New York City or what manner of enemy he mayhave made. If one of them had plotted to assassinate Dick,using poor Epp as his pawn, would he not do the same to anyone benton exposing him? Beth had not seemed alarmed about thispossibility, however, telling Cobb that “He come back from thewars, didn’t he?”

The ship’s whistle startled Cobb out of hisreverie, and he watched the wood-burning side-wheeler until itdisappeared around the island-spit that protected the harbour. Thenhe walked slowly back up to Front Street.

***

Wilfrid Sturges was not happy when Cobb conveyed thenews to him. It was his opinion that Marc was more concerned withrehabilitating Dougherty’s reputation than he was in catching anaccomplice to murder. Cobb didn’t disagree. Being a practical man,however, Sturges allowed as they would have to “make do.” Cobb wasto combine his regular patrol duties (self-directed andidiosyncratic anyway) with judiciously timed interrogation of thesuspects whom he and Marc had targeted. Cobb was relieved thatSturges had lost none of his enthusiasm for continuing the case,despite the risks. He was also pretty certain that the royalsummons to the Archdeacon’s “palace” on Sunday had as much to dowith his chief’s determination as the pursuit of justice.