Don Gutteridge - The Bishop's Pawn

Cobb’s eyes were saucers. “Don’t ya see,chief. We got the bugger by the short hairs!”

Sturges put the note on the desk. “All wedone is find somebody who uses Melton bond-paper. There could be adozen or two dozen more bigwigs in town usin’ it – an’ writin’ realfancy on it. They teach ‘em to scribble like that in school.”

At this moment, though, nothing his chiefmight say could dampen Cobb’s excitement. “But we got a lot more,ain’t we? We got Reuben Epp sneakin’ over to tap his rich cousinfer booze money and a husband who don’t want his good namebesmirched just when he’s reached the top – an’ Reuben justhappenin’ to have this Melton paper to hand an’ somebody to writeon it fer him in curly-kewpie letters.”

“But the McDowells don’t even know Dougherty.Nobody does. He only come outta his cocoon in January. And ifthey’d been thinkin’ of killin’ anybody, it would’ve been Epp.”

“But I now got enough to go back over therean’ fire a few questions at that bugger, an’ even enough to get awarrant to tear the place apart. I’m sure we’ll find themwhatchamacallit pens and a stash of Yankee banknotes.”

“Hold yer horses, Cobb. You’ll get no warrantfrom a Tory magistrate like James Thorpe, honest as he is. You’vegot no motive. You can show him a connection between Epp an’ theMcDowells, but that’s all. The notepaper would be helpful if we hadsomethin’ else to tie it up with. But we don’t. You can’t askThorpe to believe that using Melton bond-paper is a crime or thatthey would plot the murder of a man they didn’t know an’ had noreason to kill.”

Cobb was stunned. He had expected his chiefto back him up all the way. Was something at play here that he wasmissing? “Okay,” he said carefully, “I c’n see yer point about thesearch warrant. But I got a right to go an’ ask McDowell, real tack-ful , whether he ever knew Dougherty, don’t I? An’whether he himself ever met Epp when he visited the missus, an’maybe got to know him a little?”

Sturges leaned on his desk with both fists.He looked up slowly. “If it was anybody else but Mowbray McDowell,I’d say yes – in a blink.”

Cobb couldn’t believe his ears. “You’re notafraid of the Governor, are ya?”

Sturges grinned ruefully. “We’re all afraidof the Governor, Cobb. But that ain’t what I’m sayin’ here. Youknow me better’n that. McDowell ain’t just any bigwig or Tory.Right now he’s seen as the leader of the party fightin’ againstLord Durham an’ this business of responsible government. If we gobargin’ in makin’ wild accusations against their chosen one,they’ll be labelled political, not legal. And we’ll be theones accused : of takin’ up with the Reformers an’ tryin’ tobring down a Tory leader fer our own gain. You’ve got to realize,ol’ chum, everythin’s political right now. We’re only the city’s police, not the province’s. We gotta walk on eggshere or we’ll soon be nobody’s police.”

Cobb had sagged somewhat under the force, andlogic, of this speech, but he recovered sufficiently to ask, “Soyou’re sayin’ the investigation’s got to stop? I’m to stay clear ofthe McDowells?”

“That’s right. Unless you come up with moreevidence – without direct contact .”

“But we might only have a few more daysbefore the inquest is – ” Cobb stopped. Sturges was examining hisfingernails. “The inquest’s already on, ain’t it?”

“Yes, I’m sorry to say. I just got word thatthe coroner has set it fer ten o’clock Monday mornin’.”

“But that just gives me three days. An’ Marcwon’t be back till Saturd’y at the earliest.”

“I realize that. And I’m sorry. I really am.But there it is.”

Politics, Cobb thought, grinding histeeth.

***

Cobb was still seething when he reached Bay Streetand marched south towards Baldwin House. He definitely wanted asecond opinion. Robert Baldwin greeted him warmly, asked for newsabout the new baby, and sat the constable in a comfortable chairuntil some of the steam went out of his anger. Then he listenedrespectfully to Cobb’s tale of discovery, frustration and betrayal.And it was with considerable reluctance that he told Cobb he had toagree with Wilfrid Sturges, on both legal and expedient grounds.Legally, a warrant could not, and should not, be granted in thecircumstances. Practically, any forceful interrogation of MowbrayMcDowell, given the initial confrontation and its unfortunateaftermath, was bound to be seen as a form of intimidation promptedby supporters of the Reform cause and Lord Durham’s proposals, theconstabulary being adjudged de facto members of theleft-wing party.

Cobb gave Robert a curt thank-you and stompedout, grabbing a handful of macaroons from the bottomless bowl onRobert’s desk in order to calm his nerves. He now found himselfcompletely stymied. He was certain he had flushed out an accompliceto murder. But he had no motive, and now no means of discoveringone. It was possible that Marc would be back by late Saturday orearly Sunday. But even the major, with all his sophisticatedskills, would be able to do nothing. Once the inquest began onMonday morning, the investigation would be over. Period.

Cobb headed for The Cock and Bull.

In fact, it was early Saturday evening when Marc andBrodie stepped onto the Queen’s Wharf and hailed the lone taxicablurking nearby. They had saved a full day on the return trip bygetting off the Erie Canal at Rochester and, by chance, catching asteamer crossing the lake to Cobourg, Lake Ontario now being freeof ice and its maritime activity fully restored. At Cobourg theyhad picked up the mail-packet to Toronto. They arrived there verymuch tired, but buoyed by what they had unearthed in New YorkCity.

First thing the precious Wednesday morning,after the tumultuous events and disclosures of their evening at TheBowery Theatre, Marc and Brodie had gone to Eliza’s shop, caughther in a state of elegant undress, and prevailed upon her to pullseveral dusty ledgers off a nearby shelf. In which they found theevidence they needed to confirm Marc’s suspicions. Mowbray McDowellhad indeed made regular visits to New York City during the firstyear or so that Adams-Dewart-Smythe had been in business – that is,in late-1836 and throughout 1837. Eliza said that he came every twomonths or so, winter and summer, and stayed for up to two weeks,during which time he visited her shop on several occasions onfamily business (selecting wines and spirits) as well as forpersonal pleasure (he enjoyed Eliza’s lively conversation). A checkof the invoices revealed that he had been in New York during thecritical weeks in late November when Richard Dougherty had beenundone. He had also been present earlier that fall when the“incident” had taken place at the Manhattan Gentlemen’s Club, theone that had prompted Dick to initiate the inquiry that ruined him.Equally interesting was the fact that McDowell’s business trips toNew York had abruptly stopped. Eliza had not seen or heard of himsince November of 1837.

“But this could still be a series ofcoincidences,” Brodie had pointed out as they headed back to TheBowery Theatre to let Annemarie Thedford know what they had foundand to say their farewells.

“It might have been, except for a royal snubI received.”

“A snub?”

“Yes. On the Saturday evening before Dick’sdeath, he and I attended a sitting of the Legislative Assembly tohear Mowbray McDowell deliver his maiden speech. Dick fell soundasleep and missed the whole thing.”

“But even though he didn’t see McDowell,surely the name would have rung a bell, since Uncle wrote it downon that list your mother showed us,” said Brodie.