Don Gutteridge - The Bishop's Pawn

She paused before saying, “That’s true. Andyou’re wondering how that note with the obscenity scrawled on itgot into Reuben’s hands?”

“I am. We also found a lot of American moneystashed in his house – ”

“I never gave Reuben anything but Englishguineas or sovereigns. He would never take folding money. But Idon’t see what – ”

“We figure someone he knew helped him withthe writin’ an’ give him fifty dollars as a bribe to stab Mr.Dougherty to death.”

She started to rise, indignant and angry.“You go too far, sir. I did not know Mr. Dougherty from Adam, and Ihave no intention of listening to such absurd accusations!”

The door to the sitting-room was flung openand a slim, blond gentleman strode through the opening. His sharpblue gaze swept over Mavis and stopped dead on the incongruousfigure of Horatio Cobb – red-faced, wart a-wobble, helmet spinningon the tips of his fingers.

“And just what the hell are you accusing mywife of!” he screamed, as if Cobb were deaf as well as dumb.

“It’s all right, dear. Mr. Cobb was justabout to leave.” She looked over at Cobb imploringly. “Weren’tyou?”

“Well, ma’am, I did want to talk to Mr. McDow- ”

“ I am Mr. McDowell, you impertinentfool! And I will not have a scruffy policeman barging into my homeunannounced and trying to intimidate my wife.” The near-albinopallor of his skin doubled the effect of his outrage, which wasalready considerable.

“But I come here on police business – ” Cobbstammered.

“If you wish to speak to me or my wife about police business , whatever that may be, you will in thefuture arrange for an appointment – at our convenience, notyours.”

“But – ”

“I want you to take your malodorous carcaseout that door this minute, or I shall send for the Governor’s guardand have you horse-whipped back to your hiding-hole!”

“Mowbray, please. There is nothinghere to be concerned about. I – ”

McDowell ignored his wife’s plea. He strodeto the door and yelled, “Hudson. Come in here!”

“Okay, okay, I’m leavin’,” Cobb muttered,itching to give his truncheon a workout on McDowell’s skull.

“Believe me, sirrah , you have notheard the last of this affair!” McDowell called after him as Cobbscuttled down the hallway, tripped on the rug at the back door andstumbled off the porch. He then drew himself up straight and strodewith defiant dignity to the gate, where he realized he had droppedhis helmet beside the porch steps. He slunk back to retrieve it,drawing a baleful stare from the aforementioned Hudson, a six-footbruiser of a fellow occupying most of the doorway.

So much for the direct approach, Cobb thoughtas he made his way reluctantly towards the police quarters – andthe chief constable.

***

Wilfrid Sturges was not in the least amused at Cobb’stale, even in its most favourable form.

“You see what you’ve done,” he said, glaringat Cobb across the desk in the cubicle he called an office. “Youuncovered an important lead in this case an’ then proceeded to killit dead.”

“Well, sir, it ain’t quite – ”

“It’s dead, Cobb. You blundered into the homeof the most revered Tory politician in the province an’ practicallyaccused his wife of conspiracy in the murder of Richard Dougherty.If I’d’ve been her husband, I’d’ve beaten you silly with yer owntruncheon!”

Cobb hung his head. The Sarge, as he calledthe chief, was a man whom he held in the highest regard. He washonest, fearless and fair. To have disappointed him was almost ashard to swallow as screwing up the case.

“But she gave him money,” he said quietly.“Epp was in that home many times.”

“I know that! An’ that’s why I’mangry. We needed to find out, without usin’ a balpeen hammer, whoelse in that house might’ve talked to Epp.”

“Well, that husband’s sure got a temper onhim,” Cobb offered. “I could still talk to him. Or maybe he’d agreeto talk to you.”

“Of course we can’t. That’s the point I beentryin’ to drive into yer thick skull. You’ve gone an’ give the gameaway. You’ve spooked him, given him fair warnin’ of what we’re upto. He now knows we’re lookin’ fer a direct connection withEpp an’ those Yankee dollars an’ that horrible note. Themissus’ll’ve told him everythin’. So, you think he’s gonna admit heever whispered a word to Epp or that he’s not gonna go out an’ burnevery piece of fancy paper he has – even if he’s not involved.You’ve gone an’ stymied us!”

“But – ”

“Buttin’s about all you did up there, like abilly-goat at a garden party!”

“She did say she give Epp money to keep himquiet about bein’ her cousin,” Cobb persisted. “May be she decidedto – ”

Sturges glowered at him, and then a bemused,slightly mocking look took hold of his expression. “You’resuggestin’ that the McDowells paid Epp to murder a man they knewnothin’ about on the off-chance he’d be caught an’ hanged – an’thus outta their hair?”

“Now, Sarge, there’s no need to be scar-castic. ”

Sturges heaved a big sigh. “What’s done isdone, eh. Let’s just leave it till Marc gets back from New York.Why don’t you go an’ dictate yer notes to Gussie an’ then head backto yer patrol. The barkeeps’ll be sendin’ out a search party.”

As if responding to a cue, Augustus Frenchpopped his bantam rooster body into the doorway. His eyes were asround as a cockerel’s on the trod. “I got a message for ya, sir.Just hand-delivered by a giant fella called Hudson.” He passed asealed envelope across the desk to Sturges, then stood back,waiting.

“Thanks, Gussie.”

Crestfallen, Gussie back-pedalled out of theoffice.

Cobb said quickly, “That’d be MowbrayMcDowell’s bodyguard.”

Sturges sighed again, and looked wearily athis number one constable. “It didn’t take His Highness long tolodge a complaint,” he said, breaking the seal and removing athick, white sheet of notepaper. He read its contents aloud.

Chief Constable:

This is by way of a formal complaint againstConstable H. Cobb who, this very morning, entered my home on thepretext of reporting on the progress of a minor theft at St. James,and then proceeded to bully and badger my wife about somefantastical connection with the recent murder on King Street. Ifound the dear woman near tears when I arrived in the midst of hisunlawful, unwarranted and callous interrogation. I threw him out onhis ear. I trust that you will take appropriate disciplinary actionimmediately, and inform me in writing of its scope andconsequences. Further, I shall be speaking privately with SirGeorge Arthur at Government House this evening, and shall becompelled to broach the entire, disgraceful episode with HisExcellency.

I remain, yours truly,

Mowbray McDowell, Esq., MLA

Chief Sturges sat back in his chair. “Jesus,” hesaid. “Them’s the nastiest words I ever saw written in such fancyletters.” He looked up at Cobb, expecting to observe some evidenceof remorse or anxiety, however poorly feigned. But all he saw waspuzzlement.

“Lemme see that note, if I might, Sarge,” hesaid, reaching over and taking it from the chief.

“Ya don’t wanta read it again, do ya?”Sturges said. “It won’t get any sweeter.”

But Cobb was not listening. He was standingbeside the narrow window in the chief’s office, holding McDowell’sletter of complaint up to the light.

“What’re you lookin’ at?”

“An eagle holdin’ up an ‘M’.”

Sturges got up, took the paper from Cobb andraised it up to the light. “You’re right. This is the same kind ofnotepaper used by Epp in the murder. Brought in from New York, if Iremember.”