Don Gutteridge - The Bishop's Pawn

“They set him up,” Marc said. “Entrapped himto shut him up.”

His mother nodded sadly.

Dick was hauled down to the municipal court.Winship went through the motions of laying charges of buggery andrape against him, but he had barely begun when Alderman NathanielBloodgood made a timely appearance. He had come directly fromTammany Hall with a proposal. Dick was to hand over all his notesand affidavits concerning the pedophiles at the Manhattan club, inreturn for which Dick would be given twelve hours to pack up hisbelongings and leave the state – with no charges laid and no reportabout his outrageous behaviour to the New York Bar.

“It was Hobson’s choice, and Dick knew it. Hewent home, told his wards to get ready, retrieved the papers andtook them straight to Winship and Bloodgood. Then he came here – totell me what had happened and why he had to go.”

“They didn’t give him a chance to fight back,did they?”

“No. And as you know, Tammany subsequentlyspread vague rumours of the charge and Dick’s apparent flight -ruining his reputation here and abroad, and ensuring that he couldnever really return.”

Marc shook his head. “But with the affidavitssurrendered and destroyed, and the boys bought or frightened off,it’s hard to see how Dick would pose any threat to thepowers-that-be here in New York. Whatever he might say – and hesaid nothing to anyone, not even Brodie – he had been thoroughlydiscredited in advance.”

“But, you see, he didn’t surrender all of hispapers.”

Marc was stunned, not merely at thisunexpected revelation but at the offhand way in which his motherconveyed it. “ You have them?” he said, open-mouthed.

She smiled, and there was a sorrowful kind ofsatisfaction in her eyes. “He kept back one affidavit and itsbackground notes – of a fifth boy who lived alone and did notassociate with the others. He gambled that Winship and Bloodgoodwould not find out about him. ‘These papers are my insurancepolicy,’ he told me that afternoon. He asked me not to read them,but to keep them in that safe over there in the wall beside thescreen. If the justices ever attempted to revive the charges, evenafter his death, I would have some bargaining power here to savehis reputation and protect his wards. You see, the rumours abouthis homosexuality were something he could live with – they werepart of his being alive and successful in New York – but he livedin mortal fear that the trumped-up charge of his being found in bedwith a mere boy would be publicly and irrefutably revealed. And ina sad way, I think he felt guilty about his own sexual deviancy.”She looked him squarely in the eye. “I understood, of course, eventhough I have never felt so myself.”

“Is it possible that Winship or Bloodgoodrecently got wind of the missing affidavit, and were afraid thatDick, who had begun to come back to life in Toronto, might act onit?”

“It’s a possibility, but a remote one. Ittakes an awful lot to truly frighten Tammany.”

“I was shadowed by a tough-looking characterfor a few blocks this afternoon.”

“It could mean little,” she said not tooconvincingly. “Tammany is suspicious of anyone whose business isnot their own.”

Marc was silent for a full minute, then said,“Will you show me the papers? There may be some names in them thatwill lead me to the persons here who are worried about my presenceand purpose in the city.”

“You could end up doing more harm than good,Marc. I loved Dick very much, and these papers are still his onlyinsurance against the defamation of his life and character.”

“I understand.”

“But I am too tired to think about it rightnow. I have to go next door where the cast is dining andcelebrating, and pretend to share their happiness. But please cometo the play tomorrow night. I’ve got a small role only. I’ll have asupper prepared – bring Brodie if you like – and I’ll have ananswer about the papers for you then.”

Marc rose to go, but stopped when he heardthe sound of a footfall, of someone stumbling perhaps, just outsidethe door. Marc rushed over and flung it open. A door slammedfarther down the hall. When he reached it and jerked it open, hesaw that it led to the wings. The theatre beyond was insemi-darkness. A janitor was haphazardly sweeping one of theaisles. That was all.

“Did you see who it was?” Annemarie said whenMarc returned.

“No, but whoever it was, he was listeningoutside your door and in one hell of a hurry to get away.”

“Then you must be very careful.”

“If they suspect that you have any ofDick’s papers, then you must be careful, too.”

They embraced for several long seconds at thedoor: mother and son.

In the darkened foyer at the front of thetheatre, Marc was approached by a stagehand. “A lady outside askedme to find you an’ give you this,” he said, handing Marc a foldednote.

Marc moved under a wall-sconce and read:

Marc darling:

I spotted you ten rows ahead of me, and waited inthe foyer, but you didn’t come out. I hope this missive reachesyou. If so, please come for tea tomorrow morning at eleven – at thewine-shop on the corner of Park Place and Church.

Love,

Eliza

***

It was well past midnight when the taxicab droppedMarc off in front of The Houston Hotel and he was let in by agrumpy porter. Still, Marc was surprised to find Brodie in theirrooms, wide-awake and obviously eager to relay his news. And whileMarc had discovered more than he wanted to know about the ManhattanGentleman’s Club, he realized that the ugly details needed to beconveyed to Brodie slowly and tactfully – in the morning when hishead was clear and he had had time to reflect further on hismother’s story.

So he smiled noncommittally at Brodie andsaid, “I thought you young ‘swells’ didn’t eat supper until oneA.M.”

“We started early ” Brodie said. He pausedtheatrically: “And ended rather abruptly.” He turned so that thelamplight revealed the welt on his left cheek.

“You’ve been assaulted!”

“Yes, but it was nothing serious,” Brodiesaid, grinning.

“Then you must tell me what happened -precisely.”

Nothing short of an earthquake could havestopped the young man from telling what had happened to him at theManhattan Club.

He and Carleton Buckmaster had been joined bytwo other former schoolmates, both of them older than Brodie andCarleton. They had spent the hours before midnight participating inthe various pleasures of the house. They had gambled, at cards andat dice, and lost more than they could afford (the Buckmastercredit, however, seemed inexhaustible). They had drunk freely andsmoked assiduously. They had embarrassed themselves in thebilliards room. Finally, Carleton suggested they move to thebrothel, where the two older chaps soon found a pair of soul-matesand disappeared, leaving Brodie and Carelton to join the sing-alongaround the piano and take turns blushing at the mock advances ofthe girls.

“You weren’t tempted?” Marc teased, wonderingwhere this tale was heading.

“A little, I admit. But the image of MissRamsay kept me honest.”

When the older pair returned from theirfleshly entanglements, the group decided to have a bit of supperand depart. Afraid that his evening would be wasted, Brodie hadleft them in order to engage one of the older members inconversation. Seeing Carleton nod to him that they were about toleave, Brodie asked the elderly gentleman if there were anyoneother than these girls available ‘for a young man with specialtastes.’ The old fellow had not seemed in the least startled by thequestion, but his answer proved arresting: “We ain’t been mixed upin any of that nonsense since the incident a year ago lastfall.”