Don Gutteridge - The Bishop's Pawn

“I keep every tidbit of cloth and paper Ifind about the house, and Muriel does the same. I keep it all in abasket in my sewing-room. When it gets full, I give it to theSunday school at St. James, for the children to make religiouscrafts and toys out of. I remember Muriel emptying that waste-binover there, as she does every Monday morning. That little piece ofpaper will be in my basket.”

She turned to leave, and staggered. Cobbcaught her by one arm.

McDowell had collapsed in his chair. He lethis head drop into his hands, and he began to sob. “I’m so sorry,”he mumbled into his fingers, but he did not look up.

“Cobb, please take Mrs. McDowell to hersewing-room and fetch Muriel to her,” Marc said. “And have a peekin that basket.”

“Right,” Cobb said. “But from the look of him , I don’t think we’ll need no scrap of paper.” He guidedMavis McDowell slowly out of the room.

***

“Are you ready to tell me about it?” Marc said toMcDowell when the latter had composed himself enough to speak.

He nodded. “You were right about my seeingDougherty in the foyer that night. I almost fainted from theshock.”

“So you knew him by sight?”

“He was famous in New York, or notorious,depending on your viewpoint. I was in the courtroom when he took onTammany Hall and fought them to a draw. I was an admirer of his, ifyou can believe that.”

Marc was pretty sure why, but let McDowellcontinue.

“We all heard the rumours about his domesticarrangement, so I wasn’t surprised when he showed up that Septembernight in the club – in the special rooms at the back.”

Marc was surprised, however. “So youwere actually there the night the boy died in one of theanterooms?” It wasn’t, then, merely a question of McDowell’s nameappearing on Dick’s suspect-list: the two men had come face toface.

McDowell hung his head. But the sudden needto tell his story, to purge himself of whatever sins he hadcommitted, however despicable, was too strong. Without looking up,he said in a wobbly voice, “I was in the pleasure-pad.”

“Jesus!” Marc exclaimed, not hearing Cobbcome in and stand near the doorway. “It was you who killed thatinnocent boy!”

“It was an accident, a horrible accident.We’d done that bit with the dog-collar a dozen times. The lad enjoyed it! It was his specialty .”

Marc felt like collaring McDowell andthrottling him, but he knew that he must remain perfectly still,like a priest in the confessional.

“I ran out! The outer room was full ofregulars. All hell broke loose. I spotted Dougherty as I rushed by.He was the only non-member there. I didn’t know if he had seen myface clearly or if he knew who I was. I still don’t.”

“But your friends at Tammany Hall managed tohush the whole affair up?”

“Yes. They even closed down the brothel for afew weeks. But when no-one, including Dougherty, followed up withan official complaint, they reopened it.”

“And you were back in New York two monthslater. Where you learned from your Tammany contacts that Doughertyhad been secretly gathering evidence about the abuse of these boys,and that he even had affidavits.”

“We nearly shat ourselves when we heard aboutthis. But you don’t know Tammany Hall.”

“I’m learning quickly.”

“They framed Dougherty, I was told, and madea deal with him. He vanished. But the club members knew it had beena close shave. They shut down the special wing – for good.”

“And you decided it was safer to stayhome?”

“Yes. I came back and tried to save mymarriage.”

“And the province.”

McDowell managed a grim smile.

“So whether or not Dick recognized yououtright or had merely put your face to one of the names on hisroster of pedophiles, you could not take a chance on his remainingalive?”

“I am not a murderer. I didn’t murder thatboy in New York. I have done penance for that sin, and others, eversince. I have tried to be a prop to my suffering family and tobecome a productive citizen of my country. But I was in a state ofpanic that Saturday. I didn’t sleep a wink all night. FortunatelyMavis was busy Sunday afternoon and evening – after the morningservice. Late in the day, with Hudson and Muriel away on theirevening off, I went into the kitchen when I heard a noise, anddiscovered Reuben Epp there. He wasn’t drunk, but he had beendrinking. There was a madness in his eyes that sent chills up myspine. He started ranting and raving right away. He said theArchdeacon had condemned the Yankee lawyer and begged hisparishioners to rid the town of such vermin. I had heard thesermon, so I knew what he was babbling on about. I tried to calmhim down, but he got more and more agitated. He said that he knewexactly where and when Dougherty would be walking in the morning,and that he was going to carry out God’s will by killing the man,after which he intended to hang himself. He went on and on aboutwhat a worthless life he had led and how he wanted to end it all bydoing one good, shining deed.”

“Surely it was just talk – ”

“I thought so, too. But gradually I becameconvinced he meant it. He had come to our house to see if hiscousin or I would write the word ‘sodomite’ on a piece of paper. Hewanted to leave it on the body to show the world what he had doneand why. And who had inspired him.”

“Dr. Strachan.”

“As I realized that he was determined to dothis, one way or another, I was suddenly struck with the idea ofhelping him along. I suspected that the note was crucial to hisplan. I was also aware that when the drink wore off or the initialfervour subsided, he might yet get cold feet.”

“So you agreed to write the note?”

“Yes. We were alone in the house. I broughthim in here. I got out a calligraphy pen and in red ink, resemblingblood, I scrawled out the word he wanted.”

Marc wondered if McDowell had noticed theirony in that gesture, but said, “To suggest a religiousfanatic?”

“Or a lunatic from the asylum here.”

“And you tore it in two to further suggestthe killer’s state of mind?”

“No. Epp ripped it out of my hand before Icould blot the ink! I tossed the torn section in my waste-bin andforgot about it.”

“But if he intended to hang himself, why didyou give him fifty dollars? That’s a year’s wages.”

“I was pretty certain he would do the deed.But it’s one thing to stab a fellow in a religious fit but quiteanother to loop a rope around your neck and leap into space.”

“You hoped he would run away? Confirming hisguilt and getting out of your hair for good?”

“I suggested Detroit or Buffalo. I promisedhim more money later. I knew if he were captured on the run thatno-one would believe his wild story about an accomplice, even if heproclaimed he was my wife’s cousin.”

“But he killed Dick and then hanged himself.You must have thought then that you had miraculously escapedjustice twice, once here and once in New York?”

“When Epp was found at home and charged withthe crime, I was terrified that he would implicate me. But bynightfall he had hanged himself. I was free. It seemed like divineintervention, as if I had been chosen, despite my past sins andprodigal existence, to carry out some larger mission here on earth.I might have to pay later, but for the time being, God was backingme.”

“So you made no attempt to cover yourtracks?”

“I had no need to. Mavis had assured me timeand again that Epp had kept their secret – he was cunning enoughnot jeopardize his money-source. It did occur to me that I ought tolocate that torn piece of paper, but Muriel told me she’d thrownthe trash from this study into the kitchen stove. I knew nothingabout St. James and the Sunday school children. I gave the crime nomore thought until Cobb barged in here on Thursday. And then hismeddling was stopped instantly by Sir George.”