Don Gutteridge - The Widow's Demise

“I thought you’d be pleased.”

“You’re getting to be a first-rateinterrogator, Cobb.”

“Thank you, sir. That’s great praise, comin’from you.”

“Where do you go from here?” Marc said.

“Well now, I ain’t sure.”

“If the prosecution is going to suggest ajealousy motive – preposterous as that seems – they’ll have to gettestimony from witnesses to the Ball and to the interaction betweenGilles and Delores while they danced. You mentioned several otherswho danced with her and were, according to Cardiff, suitors for herdaughter’s hand. We’ll need to know what they’re likely to sayabout Gagnon and Delores. Also, I can perhaps throw suspicion intheir direction. If Delores was entertaining several suitors, I canpoint to rivalry and jealousy, perhaps even a sense of outrage andbetrayal at the lady’s promiscuity.”

“You’re sayin’ I oughta interview Trueman andMacy?”

“Yes. And maybe even Denfield.”

“But he’s married, sir.”

“He is. But who knows, eh?”

“I’ll get right on it.”

“Good. You’ve done splendid work thusfar.”

“Do ya mind if I stay and say hello to Maggiefer a bit?”

“I’m sure she’d be delighted,” Marc said.

Cobb decided to interview Lionel Trueman first.Trueman lived in a rented house on north George Street. Cobb wentup and used the knocker. He waited a long minute and rapped again.The door was at last opened by a uniformed maid.

“Good afternoon, sir. What can I do foryou?”

Cobb was relieved to see that she took himfor someone respectable. It must be the suit, he thought.

“I’m Detective-Constable Cobb. I’d like totalk to Mr. Lionel Trueman.”

“That’s my master.”

“Is he in?”

“He is, sir. I’ll see if he can see you now.Please step in and wait.”

Cobb stepped into a small vestibule. It waswarm and stuffy inside. He adjusted his collar. A minute later themaid returned.

“Mr. Trueman has agreed to see you, sir.”

Cobb followed her down the hallway to a tinyden, where Lionel Trueman stood waiting.

“Thank you, Mavis. That’ll be all.”

Mavis curtsied and left.

“Where’s your uniform, Constable?” Truemansaid, his pop-eyes appraising his visitor.

“I don’t wear one,” Cobb said. “I’m aplainclothes detective.”

“What’ll they think of next?”

“I hope you’re all finished with duellin’,”Cobb said.

“Oh, that was all a misunderstanding. Youhaven’t come about that, have you?”

“No. I’m investigatin’ the murder of DeloresCardiff-Jones.”

“I thought you had a suspect under lock andkey.”

“We do. I’m gatherin’ evidence fer thetrial.”

“Well, I don’t see how I can help you. I’m avery busy man.”

“We’re tryin’ to find out how well oursuspect, Gilles Gagnon, knew Mrs. Cardiff-Jones.”

“How would I know anything about that?”

“You were at the Charity Ball the othernight?”

“I was.”

“Did you see Mr. Gagnon dance with thelady?”

Trueman’s brow furrowed. “I saw her dancingwith a Frenchman. I heard them babbling in that tongue.”

“You must have been very close to them.”

“I happened to be nearby, yes. By purecoincidence.”

“Did they look to be friendly?”

“They were dancing a reel. You can’t get toofriendly in those circumstances.”

“Did they talk afterwards?”

“As a matter of fact, they did. They werecozied up near the drinks table.” Trueman’s disinterested mannersuddenly became personal. There was venom in his response.

“Like they knew each other?”

“I really couldn’t say. I merely glanced intheir direction.”

“I would’ve thought you’d’ve kept a close eyeon the lady.”

Trueman’s moustache quivered. “And why do yousay that, sir? Are you being impertinent?”

“Rumour has it that you and the lady werevery close friends.”

“There’s no need to beat about the bush,Constable,” Trueman said with a tight little laugh. “The whole townknows I have been pursuing Mrs. Cardiff-Jones for some time. I hadplanned to marry the lady, if she would have me.”

“That’s what I heard.”

“So what are you driving at?”

“I just thought you might’ve been a littlebit jealous.”

“Pah!” Trueman snorted. “Why would I bejealous of a Frenchman Delores had just met on the dance-floor.Everybody knows she was a bit of a flirt. I was used to it. Iwasn’t bothered in the least.”

“I see. So you’re sure there was nothin’goin’ on between the two?”

“As I said, sir, I don’t see how that waspossible.”

Cobb cleared his throat. “Where were youabout seven-thirty on the night of the murder?”

Trueman blanched. “What do you mean? Am I asuspect?”

“Please, sir. Just answer the question.”

“I think you’re going beyond your authority,sir. I loved the woman, and I’d like to be left alone togrieve.”

“Gagnon’s lawyer, Marc Edwards, is fond ofpointing to other possible murderers durin’ the trial. We need tomake sure you’re not one of them.” Cobb was particularly pleasedwith this improvised rationale.

“Oh, I see. Very well, then. I was playingwhist at the Reverend Ogilvie’s that evening. From six o’clockonward. The Reverend and several others can vouch for me.”

“The Reverend will do.”

“Do you have any further questions?”

“Just one. This glove was found near thescene of the crime. Is it by chance yours?”

Trueman looked at the glove with distaste.“It is not, sir.”

“Would you mind tryin’ it on?”

“I would – ”

“Please, humour me, sir.”

“Oh, all right.”

He slipped the glove on easily.

“It’s too big,” Trueman said quickly.

“Looks fine to me,” Cobb said, retrieving theglove.

“But I don’t wear gloves that colour. Askanybody.”

Cobb smiled. “Thank you, sir. You been mosthelpful. I’ll see myself out.”

***

The Reverend Olgilvie lived only a few doors fromTrueman’s place. The Reverend was in, fortunately. He was a paleman with an extra ring around his waist and a pair of sidewhiskers. Cobb interviewed him in his office.

“How can I help you, Constable?” he said witha friendly smile.

“I’m checkin’ on an alibi by Mr. LionelTrueman. It’s in regard to the death of Mrs. Cardiff-Jones. He sayshe was here playin’ whist two nights ago. From six o’clock on.”

“Well, sir, we were certainly playing cardsthat evening, and Mr. Trueman arrived shortly before six. But hewasn’t here the whole evening.”

“Oh?”

“About six-thirty a message arrived for himfrom a friend who wished to meet him at his house. It’s just half ablock from here. He left right away. He didn’t come back tillalmost eight o’clock. But I’m sure he had nothing to do with anycrime. He’s a respectable gentleman.”

“Did he meet his friend?”

“No, the friend didn’t show up. Truemanwaited a while, then came back here.”

“I see,” Cobb said, getting up. “Thank youfer that information.”

“I trust it’ll be useful. Good luck in yourinvestigation, Constable. It was a horrendous murder, and thekiller needs to have justice done.”

Cobb made his way out to the street. So, hethought, Lionel Trueman had no alibi for the critical time ofseven-thirty, unless someone in his household remembered him thereat that time. Cobb couldn’t actually see a motive for Trueman,unless he was indeed the jealous type and had been betrayed orrebuffed by the lady. Love scorned could quickly turn to hate – andrage.

Horace Macy, the chemist, was up next. AsMacy’s shop was on King near Jarvis, Cobb took the opportunity tostop at the Police Quarters on Front Street. Gussie French, thepolice clerk was as usual sitting at his table in the receptionarea copying out a document of some sort. He glanced up at Cobb forthe half-second it took him to skip a comma, and went back to hisscribbling.