Don Gutteridge - The Bishop's Pawn

“Reuben had come inta money somewheres?”

“Yup. Started before Christmas. Seems a longlost cousin’d moved to town an’ Reuben was goin’ to her fer extracash when he needed it – which was quite often. He told Swampy thegal was ashamed of him an’ give him money just ta keep him quietan’ well away from her fancy house.”

Cobb took a deep breath and said, “And whomight this cousin be?”

Nestor looked coy for a millisecond, thoughtbetter of it, and said, “You gotta promise not ta tell Swampy Itold you – ”

“Just spit it out, Nestor, or I’ll change mymind about tossin’ you in the clink.”

Nestor told him.

And here at last was the lead Cobb had beenhoping for all along: a direct link between Reuben Epp and someonewealthy and presumptuous enough to be a willing accomplice in themurder of Dick Dougherty.

Cobb knew that he should take the news straight toChief Sturges. The name that Nestor Peck had given him wasprominent enough to warrant the kind of special treatment that onlya chief constable or attorney-general or even a lieutenant-governorcould negotiate. On the other hand, he had been given a name and arelationship – that was all. Surely it was logical for him topursue the matter to the point where its significance to the murdercase became moot; after all, a cousin could be merely a cousin,couldn’t it?

Deep down, though, Cobb knew full well thathe was driven by his desire to solve the murder on his own ,before the major got back from New York on Saturday or Sunday.There was also the matter of method. While Marc was a subtle andtactful interrogator with an intuitive grasp of human motive andbehaviour, Cobb fancied that his own more direct approach, coupledwith his vast knowledge of city-life and his network of snitches onthe ground, was more likely to pay dividends. For example, his bolddecision to stake out the church, taking advantage of Missy Prue’sattraction to him, had not only put the kibosh on the unchristianshenanigans of Constance Hungerford and saved David Chalmers frompossible ruin, it had led inexorably to Nestor Peck’s startlingrevelation.

Now all he had to do was confront the cousinand shake the truth out of her tree!

***

To his surprise Cobb was shown immediately into MavisMcDowell’s sitting-room by a plump maid with a permanent blush.

“Oh, do come in, Constable Cobb,” Mavis said,putting aside a sheaf of official-looking papers, rising from herbrocaded settee, and smiling at him expectantly. “You’ve come tobring me news, I believe.”

Taken aback by this effusive greeting, Cobbmumbled his reply: “Well, sort of, ma’am.” His helmet was in hishands, searching for a spot to settle, while the spikes of his hairreared up alarmingly.

“I have been so worried about the thefts fromthe Poor Box,” she continued. “Mrs. Hungerford has been veryunderstanding, but as treasurer of the Ladies Auxiliary I feelpersonally responsible.”

Cobb was quick to respond. “Then you’ll beglad to know that the robber was caught – this very mornin’.”

“That is wonderful news. I must say that I amimpressed by the diligence of your constabulary. I shall be sure toinform Mr. McDowell of your success in this matter. You see, he isof the old school. He feels that the system of constables directedby squire-magistrates appointed from amongst the better classes ismore efficient and safer from corruption than a municipal policeforce under the wing of ordinary aldermen. I shall enjoy disabusinghim.” She reached out and touched his sleeve. “And I do want toapologize for the abruptness of my manner the last time we met. Iwas somewhat . . . distraught when I found the box empty.”

Cobb’s nose was purpling, for more than onereason. Now that he was here and face to face with this tall andelegant woman with her diligently braided hair and large, probingeyes, he wasn’t sure how to proceed. He didn’t know whether he wasoverawed, intimidated or disarmed by the touch of brittlevulnerability he detected in her eyes and her posture.

“Who was the culprit?” she asked.

“Oh, just some vagabond, ma’am. He won’t berobbin’ anybody else fer a long time.”

“Ah, I see.” She smiled and added, “Would youlike some tea?”

“No, thanks, ma’am. Ya see, I’ve come aboutsomethin’ else, somethin’ serious an’ . . . well . . .delicate.”

“You have?” she said, stepping back butshowing no real concern. After all, she was the wife of a veryimportant politician and used to petitioners of every ilk.

At this critical moment in Cobb’s effort toredirect the interrogation, however, they were distracted by themaid stumbling in the hallway and righting herself against the sashof the open door.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, ma’am. I was just takin’this – ”

“It’s all right, Muriel. But I hope youweren’t going off to the back shed with that waste basket?”

Muriel’s blush threatened to burst her plumpcheeks. “Oh. I did forget, ma’am. I’ll take it to the sewin’ room,as usual.”

Mavis waved her away with an indulgent smile,watched her close the door discreetly, then turned back to Cobb,still unconcerned. “Now is there something you wish from me or Mr.McDowell?” she said with a note of disappointment in her voice.

“Oh, it ain’t like that, ma’am. I ain’t comefer a reward or a favour.” He seized his helmet by the brim andsqueezed. “It’s a police matter.”

She smiled uncertainly, but said, “Then youhad better sit down and tell me about it. I am not one of thosewives who sits in her sewing-room embroidering pillows: Mowbray andI are partners in the enterprise of politics. I am privy to histhoughts and his efforts in the legislature. I managed his electioncampaign. If there is a ‘police matter,’ as you say, which concernsthe McDowells, then please give me the pertinent details – all ofthem.”

Cobb sat opposite her on the edge of a chairthat appeared to be designed to repel any would-be occupant. Heswallowed hard and said, “Well, ma’am, I been told, by an un-peckable source, that you an’ Reuben Epp arecousins.”

She didn’t blink, but she stayed very stillbefore saying, “We were cousins. Reuben was my mother’ssister’s son.” She gave him a bold stare and added, “Born out ofwedlock. Ran away from home at eleven.”

“I see,” Cobb said, though he wasn’t sure hedid. Her candour had caught him off-guard. “You’re tellin’ me,then, that you ain’t seen him since then?”

“I am. That is, until I moved here in Octoberto set up this house in anticipation of my husband’s arrival.”

“Ahh.”

“Is that a meaningful ‘ah’ or a puzzledone?”

“I been told – ”

“By your impeccable source.”

“ – that Reuben came here to get money offayou, which you gave him to keep him . . . ah, quiet.”

She actually smiled, to Cobb’sdisappointment. “Your attempt at being tactful is commendable,constable, though I doubt you’re ready for the diplomatic service.But there is no need, I assure you. This is politics, notdiplomacy.”

“Politics?”

“Of course. My long lost cousin was notexactly a reputable character in spite of the fact that he wasverger of St. James and a tiresome Christian. He was a knowndrunkard, frequented the dives and brothels of Irishtown, and wasadept at extorting a bit of spending money out of thehigh-and-mighty McDowells. I was happy to give him the occasionalguinea. He was my dead aunt’s child. I felt sorry for him. And Idamn well didn’t want him jeopardizing Mowbray’s career. Does thatshock you, constable?”

Cobb wasn’t shocked by anything the gentrydid, but he was intrigued by her use of the word “extortion.” Therewas definitely a motive for murder here, but the victim was morelikely to have been the extortionist himself, not a reclusiveYankee barrister. Still, he was on a live scent, and had nointention of letting it go cold. “We got reason to believe, ma’am,that Reuben Epp had someone help him kill Richard Dougherty. Reubencouldn’t read or write, could he?”