Don Gutteridge - The Widow's Demise

“Unless there was a third person about, sir.The one Gagnon says he seen.”

“Nonsense. You take this detective businesstoo seriously. You see things that aren’t really there and ask sillquestions about silly details.”

“I’m just tryin’ to do my job.”

“Well, I’m ordering you to go back andrewrite that report. Leave off all your conclusions. I’ll fill inthat part and take it to James Thorpe.”

“So you’re gonna charge Gagnon?”

“I am. With cold-blooded murder.”

Cobb heaved a big sigh but knew better thanto argue with Bagshaw once he had made up his mind. He picked upthe report and left.

***

Marc arrived at the police quarters about an hourlater. Bagshaw had got his warrant, and Gilles Gagnon wasofficially charged with the murder of Delores Cardiff-Jones. Marcand Gagnon stood toe to toe in the cramped cell and talked. (Gagnonwas to be transferred to the main jail within the hour.)

“You were just on your way to see HumphreyCardiff, weren’t you?” Marc began in French.

“Yes, and as I approached Rosewood, I saw thecrime being committed, and merely went to see if I could help thevictim. The attacker had already run away.”

Gagnon then proceeded to tell Marc exactlywhat had transpired in those fatal moments on the walk ofRosewood.

“You actually saw the killer?” Marc said.

“I did, but the police don’t believe me.”

“I admit it looks bad at first glance,” Marcsaid, “but there is the small matter of motive. You haven’tany.”

“That’s right. And I only danced once withthe lady at the Charity Ball. We exchanged half a dozen words. Nomore.”

“That will play out powerfully in court.

“And the killer left a glove. One thatdoesn’t fit me.”

“Too small?”

“Yes. The killer was a short, slim man. He’dhave small hands.”

“Again, that’s a fact that will point to athird party and be very convincing to a jury.”

“But this scratch looks bad, doesn’t it?”

“Yes. And since I can’t put you on the stand,it’ll be hard to get your plausible explanation before the jury.But you did relate your account to Cobb and Wilkie, didn’tyou?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll get them to quote from theirnotes.”

“What if they don’t get put on thestand?”

“They’ll have to put Wilkie there. He’s thecrux of their case.”

“Can’t you get the charge dropped? We’re inthe middle of an election.”

“And this won’t help any, will it?” Marcsaid. “A French-Canadian charged with killing the daughter of theAttorney-General of Canada West. The anti-French sentiment will bestirred up madly, I’m afraid.”

“With violence,” Gagnon said. “LikeTerrebonne.”

“Let’s hope not.”

“Could we actually lose the election?”

“I doubt it very much. But our priority isgetting you free. It doesn’t look as if Chief Bagshaw is in a moodto drop the charges, but I’ve got a strong case to take to court.Maybe the powers-that-be will expedite the trial in order to gain apolitical advantage.”

“Well, thanks for coming.”

“I’ve sent word to Louis and Robert. They’llbe along to see you when they take you over to the county jail.We’ll make you as comfortable as possible.”

Marc signalled to Cobb and was let out of thecell.

***

“Come into my office, Major,” Cobb said, using hisnickname for Marc.

“You want to discuss the case?”

“I do.”

Marc followed Cobb inside. Cobb closed thedoor, even though Chief Bagshaw was back over at the CourtHouse.

“You don’t agree with Gagnon’s beingcharged?” Marc said, sitting down opposite his old friend. They hadcollaborated more or less on eight previous murder investigations -before Cobb had been made detective and even after Marc had becomea barrister.

“I don’t,” Cobb said.

“I’m glad, because the case is full of holes,despite your eye-witness account.”

“I know. You taught me good.”

“There’s no motive.”

“That’s the first thing I told Bagshaw. Butwith an eye-witness, he says a motive don’t matter.”

“And the glove suggests a third party.”

“That’s what I wrote in my first report.”

“And if the woman was dying in front of him,it’s only natural for Gagnon to be bending over her to check herwound and general state.”

“And Wilkie didn’t see the crime itself,”Cobb said. “He only saw what happened afterwards.”

“I’ll have a field day in court.”

“But the investigation’s not closed,” Cobbsaid, smiling slightly.

“Oh? In what way?”

“Bagshaw wants me to go fer the motive. I’mto interview the lady’s a-quaint-ances to see if she knewMr. Gagnon at all.”

“What are you saying, old friend?”

“Well, Bagshaw won’t know it but I can stillpoke about and see if I can find any other suspects. Someone with areason to throw acid in the lady’s face.”

“Yes. Acid is a very personal crime. Theintention here was not murder, even if that was the unhappy result.You’re looking for a short, slight man, although you must rememberthat Gagnon only caught a fleeting glance as the fellow rounded thecorner of the house. Don’t limit yourself to small men, althoughthe killer likely has small hands.”

“I’ll keep you informed of anythin’ useful Ifind,” Cobb said.

“Isn’t that dangerous? I know you’re notCyril Bagshaw’s favourite policeman.”

“I’ll be careful. And, of course, I may turnup some evidence that points to yer client.”

“It’s the truth that we’re after here.”

“Yeah,” Cobb said. “The truth.”

James Crawford kissed his wife goodbye, climbed ontohis two-seater democrat, clucked the team of horses into motion,and headed down his lane towards the sideroad. It was a brightSeptember morning and augured well for what might turn out to be anadventurous day. He was picking up three neighbours, and they weregoing to drive to Danby’s Crossing and register their votes forLouis LaFontaine.

Alvin Gayle was waiting for him at the end ofhis lane. He carried a lunch and a canteen of cold water. It wouldbe a two-hour drive to the poll, if all went well.

“Good morning, Alvin,” Crawford said from hisseat on the box. “Make yourself at home.”

“Mornin’, James. I see you brought the fastteam.”

“Well, you never know when you might need alittle speed.”

Gayle climbed up beside the driver. “I hearsome of the fellas have run into a spot of trouble on the way.”

“That’s right. Stu Barnes was waylaid by abunch of toughs out near Yonge Street, but managed to outrunthem.”

“He made it to the poll?”

“He did. There he had to run the gauntlet ofjeers and taunts, but he did get his vote in.”

“For LaFontaine?”

“Of course,” Crawford said, snapping thereins over the horses’ ears.

“And you don’t have any qualms about votin’for a Frenchman?”

“As long as Robert Baldwin is backin’ him,that’s good enough for me.”

“They say he will lead the party when he’selected.”

“That’s what I hear, too. Baldwin seems to behappy playin’ second fiddle.”

“They work well together, that’s the mainthing,” Gayle said, taking a drink from his canteen and offering itto Crawford.

“There’s Billy, waitin’ fer us by hisgate.”

They hailed Billy Thomas, and drove up tohim.

“Mornin’, fellas,” he said, and hopped upbehind the other two men. “Good day fer votin’, eh?”

They agreed, and the democrat proceeded westalong the sideroad to the next farm, where they picked up thefourth and final member of their group, Toby Baron. He too hadpacked a lunch, or rather his wife had. As they made their waytowards Yonge Street, the forest rose up on either side of them, afew scattered farms here and there along the way.