Don Gutteridge - The Widow's Demise

“Rossiter tells me you found the perpetratoron the scene,” Bagshaw said to Wilkie as they came into thereception area.

“I caught him red-handed, sir. With a scratchon his face and weapon in hand,” Wilkie said as he shoved Gagnonfarther into the room.

“You’ve questioned this fellow?” Bagshaw saidto Cobb.

“I have, sir, and I’m not certain we have theright fellow.”

“What’s your name?” Bagshaw said toGagnon.

“I am Gilles Gagnon,” Gagnon said. “I am anassociate of Louis LaFontaine. I am helping him with his electioncampaign, and I am innocent of any wrongdoing.”

“You’re French, then?” Bagshaw said.

“I am from Montreal. Monsieur LaFontaine isrunning in the fourth riding of York.”

“I know who Mr. LaFontaine is, sir, and Iknow where and why he’s trying to get elected. But right now I’minterested in what happened up at Rosewood. I suggest we go intothat off ice and discuss the matter.” He pointed to the officeshared by the constables and used by Cobb to store his files andpapers.

Bagshaw, Cobb, Wilkie and Gagnon went intothe office and arranged themselves around the table inside.

“Wilkie, you were the first one on the scene,I take it?” Bagshaw said.

“Yeah,” Wilkie said. “And I seen this manbendin’ over the dead woman – ”

“Who is?”

“Mrs. Cardiff-Jones,” Cobb said. “Thedaughter of the Attorney-General.”

Bagshaw’s eyebrows shot up and quivered. “Oh,my. This is a calamity!”

“It happened on her own front walk, in broaddaylight,” Wilkie said.

“Go on, then, Wilkie.”

“I come up to this man and see him holdin’ avial of some sort, and I notice that scratch on his face.”

“Given by the lady?” Bagshaw said.

“Yes,” Gagnon interrupted. “I admit shescratched me. I was bending down to see if she was still breathingand she must have mistaken me for her attacker because she lashedout. I didn’t jump back in time.”

“So you admit what Wilkie saw?” Bagshawsaid.

“I cannot deny it, but I did not harm thelady.”

“How did the lady die?” Bagshaw said toCobb.

Cobb gave the Chief a brief summary of Dr.Withers’ examination at the scene.

“She had her throat cut open by a spike onthe fence?” Bagshaw said, incredulous.

“Dr. Withers thinks she was reacting to theacid thrown in her face,” Cobb explained.

“And I caught Mr. Gagnon red-handed,” Wilkiesaid. “And he started babblin’ like a madman.”

“He was speakin’ French,” Cobb said.

“The evidence is all against you, sir,”Bagshaw said to Gagnon.

“But I actually saw the real killer,” Gagnonsaid. “I saw him commit the crime. I saw him toss the acid and thenrun off around the far side of Rosewood. He was a short, slightfellow, dressed in gentleman’s clothes.”

“A convenient story, I’m sure,” Bagshaw said.“I’m going to lock you in our holding cell until I can get anarrest warrant from the magistrate.”

“You’re charging me with murder?”

“I am.”

“But I hardly knew the lady. Why would I killher?”

“You met her at the Ball,” Wilkie chimedin.

“I danced with our hostess. That’s the onlycontact I’ve had with the woman,” Gagnon protested.

Bagshaw made a mental note to questionwitnesses to this dance at the Charity Ball. Perhaps there had beensomething more than a simple dance. “I don’t know why you wouldwant to throw acid in the lady’s face and cause her death, and Idon’t really care. You were caught standing over the body of aperson who had just been killed.”

“That’s what the doc said,” Wilkie added.“She was still warm.”

“But I’m innocent! I want a lawyer!”

“In due course,” Bagshaw said. “You’llcertainly need one.” He turned to Cobb. “Put Mr. Gagnon in ourcell, then go and write out a complete investigative report for me.It looks like we won’t need a lot of fancy detective work on thiscase.”

The police quarters contained a smallholding-cell. The main jail was only a block or so away on thecorner of Church and King. Cobb did as he was told. He locked upGagnon, still protesting his innocence. Gagnon said to Cobb as heturned to leave. “Will you send a message to Marc Edwards forme?”

“You want him fer yer lawyer?”

“I do. And he’ll let LaFontaine and Baldwinknow what’s happened.”

“You’ve got some in-flew-ential friends, I see.”

“It looks like I’m going to need them,”Gagnon said.

***

Cobb went outside the police quarters where, asusual, he found a street urchin lurking.

“Hey, Nosy, I want you to take a message toMr. Marc Edwards. You know where he lives?”

“In Briar Cottage,” Nosy said, snuffling inthe manner that had given him his nickname.

“That’s right. Tell him he’s wanted hereright away.”

“You’ll pay me now?”

“I will, but you better not bugger off. It’dbe worth yer life.”

Nosy stuck out his hand and Cobb put ahalf-penny into it. Nosy then scampered away as if the money mightdissolve were he not to dash off..

Cobb went back inside and stepped into hisoffice. He opened his notebook and began to write up the details ofthe crime and his interrogation of Gilles Gagnon. He was his usualthorough self. Although he found writing painful and mainly reliedon his prodigious memory to recall details, Cobb neverthelessrealized that note-making and report-writing were important aspectsof his work. His thoroughness made it easy to get the necessarywarrants for search and seizure and for arrests from MagistrateThorpe. And, of course, Cyril Bagshaw was a stickler for details.Bagshaw had never really approved of having a plainclothesdetective on the force (unless it were he himself and that was notpossible), and Cobb had to be painstaking in order to convince theChief of his theories and conclusions. When he had finished thereport, he took it in and placed it on Bagshaw’s desk. Bagshawacknowledged the gesture with a grunt.

Ten minutes later Bagshaw shouted out Cobb’sname – once. Cobb immediately went next door, braced for theworst.

Bagshaw’s pop-eyes pounced on the open reportand then pounced on Cobb.

“What is the meaning of this drivel?” hesnapped.

“It’s what I heard and seen, sir.”

“I’m talking about your conclusions, and youknow it!”

“What’s the matter with them?”

“You say here that there’s a good possibilitythat Gagnon’s preposterous story may be true and that he may not bethe killer!”

“But surely that is an obvious conclusion,sir.”

“The fellow was caught in the act! What elseis he going to do but make up a cock-and-bull story to save his ownskin?”

“But he has no motive. And Marc Edwardsalways taught me to start with the motive.”

“We don’t need a motive. Gagnon had the vialof acid in his hand, spotted by a policeman !”

“In court, we’ll need a motive. Mr. Gagnon isan important fellow. A gentleman, even if he is French. Gentlemendon’t go around tossin’ acid at women they hardly know.”

“We’ve only got his word for that. I expectyou to talk to people at that Ball and find out just what went onthere. And talk to friends of Mrs. Cardiff-Jones to find out howwell she might have known him.”

“I was plannin’ on doin’ that, sir. I didn’tsay in my report that he wasn’t guilty. I just said there wasquestions that needed answerin’ before we charged him.”

“You raise the business of the glove.”

“Right. Gagnon wasn’t wearin’ any, so wheredid a single glove come from? A glove that didn’t fit Gagnon.”

“Surely the answer is obvious. It was droppedthere sometime before the crime. It must’ve been.”