Don Gutteridge - The Bishop's Pawn

“That leaves only one other place, doesn’tit?” Constance said with only a modest attempt to modulate herglee.

“You want me to search a minister’s rooms?”Cobb said, aghast.

“I do. Mr. Chalmers is not there. Ichecked.”

Cobb couldn’t see any other option, short ofa court-martial, so he lumbered down to Chalmers’ suite at the endof the hall, next to the rear entrance and across from the coveredwalkway to the church. He knocked discreetly.

“He’s not there, Cobb. And none of theseinside doors can be locked.”

Cobb opened Chalmers’ door slowly.

“For Heaven’s sake, man, go on! The HolyGhost’s not in there!”

Cobb went in. All was quiet. No Chalmers, noghosts. Still, Cobb felt vaguely disrespectful as he pawed throughthe drawers of the vicar’s desk. In the top drawer he found acompact, leather-bound, gilt-trimmed Bible. He felt like athief himself, and a sneak-thief at that, as he riffled its pages.On the fly-leaf he noted the inscription: “To David Chalmers, maeye fare well in the sight of the Lord, from Rev. J. Strachan,Cornwall, U.C., 1811.” He dropped the book-prize. Beside it, whereit fell, lay a silver locket, sprung open. It contained theminiature portrait of a young woman with ringlets and eyes as greenas her brother’s. The crippled sister in Windsor, Cobb thought witha guilty shudder, the one referred to in Marc’s notes. He eased thetop drawer closed and slid open the one below it.

In it he spotted a small calfskin purse, itsdrawstrings well tightened. He picked it out and dropped it on thedesktop. It clanked. Cobb’s breathing quickened. He poured thecontents out: a variety of English and American coins, and a singledollar bill.

“That’s the one, isn’t it?” Constance stoodin the doorway, her eyes as round as communion wafers.

***

Cobb and Constance were sitting in the senior vicar’sstudy. They were alone.

“I fail to see how there can be any otherexplanation,” Constance was saying. “The Poor Box was locked andfull last night. This morning the box is found unlocked and themoney removed. Myrtle assures me that the back door was locked andbarred at ten o’clock, after which she and Missy went to sleep, andheard nothing till morning. The Halifax dollar you planted in thebox is found in the Reverend Chalmers’ desk-drawer, with the restof the cash. Mr. Chalmers has a key for the Poor Box.”

“I agree, ma’am, that it looks bad. But keysare an easy thing to get copied. A good robber’s even got skeletonkeys that’ll get him into pert near anythin’.”

“So you are telling me that some thief cameinto the church, robbed the Poor Box, slipped back in here throughthe walkway and, because he’s a good Christian, deposited his bootyin Mr. Chalmers’ desk-drawer?”

“No need to get scar-castic ,ma’am.”

At this point in the lop-sided exchange ofviews, Myrtle Welsh appeared in the doorway, broom in hand. “Oh,I’m sorry – ”

“No, no, Myrtle, do come in.”

Myrtle took one cautious step inside.

“Did the Reverend Chalmers happen to tell youwhen he would be back this morning?” Constance said to hersweetly.

Myrtle looked surprised. “But haven’t youheard, ma’am?”

“Heard what ?”

Myrtle trembled slightly, but replied, “Theyoung reverend left right after the morning service yesterday.”

“ Left ?” The word was spat out.

“He got a message that his older brother wastook sick out in Streetsville. Reverend Hungerford told him to gothere straight away. So he took the roan mare an’ rode off. Weexpect him back this afternoon.”

“And why was I not informed of thisunorthodox arrangement?”

Myrtle blinked. “But you was visitin’ youraunt all day. You hadn’t come home by the time Missy an’ me went tobed.”

Constance’s bosom heaved alarmingly, like aDiva’s before a death-aria. Her face went as purple as herhusband’s vestments.

“D-d-didn’t the reverend himself tell you,ma’am?”

“ He did not !”

And the senior vicar would no doubt regretthe oversight, even though he too had been abed when his wife hadarrived home from a day in the country and rousted the stableboyout of a deep sleep.

“That’ll be all, Myrtle.”

Myrtle vanished with alacrity.

Getting control of her anger with difficulty,Constance turned back to Cobb. “Well, then, constable, it appearsas if Mr. Chalmers could not himself have removed the money.”

“Or stashed it in his own desk.”

“Then I submit that he has anaccomplice.”

My God, Cobb thought, not another conspiracy.“How do ya figure that?”

“I figure it this way. Mr. Chalmersknows that I suspect him of thievery. I have already accused him ofan earlier theft, the details of which you need know nothing. Afterlast week’s robbery here, he realized that if he were to deflectsuspicion, he would need an accomplice – and an alibi.”

“But who could he get to steal from the PoorBox?”

“The town is crawling with cutthroats andburglars. The Reverend Chalmers wastes much of his time amongstsuch lowlife in hopes of bringing them to God. It would be simpleenough for him to bribe one of them and provide him with thenecessary keys.”

Cobb sighed. “And if Reverend Chalmers deniesall this? After all, we know he didn’t do the deed himself. Anyburglar could’ve jimmied those locks an’ planted the cash in thereverend’s desk to make mischief.” Cobb tried not to smile as headded, “Fer some reason we know nothin’ about.”

“That is patently absurd! It is you who arebeing mischievous!”

“All I’m sayin’, ma’am, is that unless thereverend was to confess, or unless we can find this accompliceamong the lowlife hereabouts, we ain’t got a case to make.”

Constance glared at him with such malice thathe thought he could hear the metal buttons on his coat sizzle. “Howwill we know he really was in Streetsville if you don’t goout there and interview this so-called brother?”

“You’re cluckin’ at straws,” Cobb saidmeekly.

“You don’t seem to realize, sir , thatDr. Strachan is about to be elevated to the position of bishop. Ifthere is evil in this establishment, then it must be exposed to thelight and purged, so that no taint of scandal or maladministrationtouches that saintly man’s robes. David Chalmers has slipped thesnare, twice. But I am not one to give up.” She stood up. “Now Iexpect you to report to me that you have interrogated the suspectand checked his alibi. Good day to you.”

Any chance of it being a good day had longsince gone by the boards.

David Chalmers himself appeared at the policequarters later that afternoon. He looked haggard and hag-ridden,which made Cobb even more impressed by his calm demeanour andstraightforward testimony. He seemed to regard Constance Hungerfordas a millstone sent by the Almighty to test his patience andforbearance. Not only did he state that he had indeed visited hissick brother in Streetsville, but added that Dr. Withers hadaccompanied him, and both had spent the night there. When Cobbpointed out, diffidently, that the marked money had been found inhis desk-drawer, Chalmers did not seem surprised. But when pressedfor some plausible explanation, he suggested that there werecertainly a few citizens in Irishtown and elsewhere among thedowntrodden in the city who resented his intrusions into theirlife, and who might well have decided to implicate him in a crime.Lots of people had seen him and Withers riding west along KingStreet towards his brother’s home fifteen miles way: so theopportunity was there.

“Still,” he said with a resigned smile, “Ithink they would have kept most of the money, especially theHalifax dollar.”