Don Gutteridge - The Widow's Demise

***

Lionel Trueman, in his study, was surprised to seethe detective-constable enter his private domain for the secondtime.

“More questions?” he said to Cobb with barelya nod of the head by way of greeting. “I thought you had your fillthe first time.”

“Somethin’s come up since I was last here,”Cobb said. He remained standing, as did Trueman.

“What could that possibly be?”

“I’ve got a witness who says he saw youhavin’ an argument with Mrs. Cardiff-Jones on her front porch onthe night of the crime – about seven o’clock or later.”

Trueman’s gaze narrowed. “That’spreposterous. I was at the Reverend Ogilvie’s.”

“And the good reverend tells me you left hishouse for an hour and a half about six-thirty that evenin’.”

Trueman looked down, then up. “Oh. So I did.I forgot. A message came that a friend wished to see me. I camehome and waited, but he didn’t arrive. I discovered later that he’dhad a fall and couldn’t make it.”

“But yer whereabouts are not known by anybodyelse, are they? Between six-thirty and eight o’clock. And thedescription the witness gave me suits you to a T.”

Trueman sighed. “All right, then. I was overat Rosewood about seven o’clock. I called on the lady after myfriend didn’t show up. She would not let me in. She said she had animportant appointment and I was to come back the next morning.”

“An appointment with who?”

“One of her lady friends, she said.”

“You didn’t believe her?”

“I suspected it was a man. There had beenothers than me pursuing the widow – ”

“And you were annoyed? Jealous?”

“I told her I didn’t believe her, and she gotvery angry.”

“And yer jealousy turned to rage?”

“What are you driving at?”

“Maybe you came to Rosewood to have it outwith her.”

“With a vial of acid in my pocket? You’rebeing ludicrous, sir.”

“Mr. Gagnon says he saw a man throw a vial ofacid in the lady’s face, then turn and run off around the east sideof the house.”

“And you think I could be that man?”

“It’s possible.”

“But I loved the lady. I was the favouriteamong her suitors. Why would I try to destroy her?”

“Love and jealousy do strange things tomen.”

“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you,Constable, but Mrs. Cardiff-Jones and I had a brief tiff on herfront stoop, then she went back inside to get ready for herso-called appointment, and I went directly back home to see if myfriend had arrived late, then on to the Reverend Ogilvie’s.”

Trueman’s story might seem incredible, but itdid fit the time-line well. If the argument did take place closerto seven than seven-thirty, then that would leave time for Mrs.Cardiff-Jones to go back into the house, fetch her maid Vera, anddress for her meeting with her friend, Marion Stokes.

“And you’re stickin’ with that story?” Cobbsaid.

“I am because it’s the truth.”

Cobb thanked Trueman and was shown out.Trueman’s tale might be dicey, Cobb thought, but a smart lawyercould make much of it during a trial.

***

With Gussie’s help, Cobb wrote up a full report onthe investigation thus far, and left it on the Chief’s desk. Hehoped that Trueman would decided not to complain, although if hewere thrown off the case now, it would not be a calamity. He hadfollowed up almost every lead he could, except for John Perkins,the disaffected servant. Of course, Itchy Quick might come up withsomething. It remained now for him to make another report to MarcEdwards.

***

“That’s a very interesting set of facts you’vedredged up on Lionel Trueman,” Marc said. He was dandling youngJunior on his knee as he spoke with Cobb in the parlour of BriarCottage. Squeals of laughter could be heard coming from the nextroom. “It puts a third party in the vicinity, and the presence of athird party is critical to my defense of Gilles Gagnon.”

“The timing’s a little off, Major, unless mywitness got it wrong. Or Gagnon.”

“I don’t think Gagnon did. He left BaldwinHouse at seven-fifteen, and it’s only a ten-minute walk toRosewood. That puts him there close to seven-thirty.”

“I see. And Vera the maid says her mistresswent out a little before that.”

“Of course, there’s no reason why Trueman hadto throw the acid at five after seven. We only have his word thathe returned to his card game immediately. He could have lingered atthe side of the house, brooding and unobserved, until the lady cameout again at seven-thirty.”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“It’s enough for me to work on for the trial.My strategy always is to look for viable alternatives. And you’vegiven me plenty.”

“Would you put Constance Brown in withthem?”

“It’s far-fetched, but she could have beenwearing a man’s coat.”

“She seemed like a very determined person.And she sure hated Mrs. Cardiff-Jones. I think she had a lot moremotive than poor Mr. Gagnon.”

“And there’s still this John Perkins toquestion,” Marc said. “You’ve done a good job in shaking up thealibis of the others. I’ve got more than I need, I believe, tomount a strong defense. I should be able to get Gillesacquitted.”

“You got time to work on it, what with theelection and all?”

“It’s been difficult,” Marc said, givingJunior another jounce. “I’ve used the mornings mostly. In theafternoons I hire a fast horse and patrol the back roads of theriding looking for intimidators. I’ve seen quite a bit of action -alas.”

“Made you feel like a major again, eh?”

“Well, I have had to brandish my pistol morethan once.”

“What’s the count?”

“Pretty much even. But a lot more farmsupporters are just finishing the harvest and will come in towardsthe end of the campaign.”

“If they can run the gauntlet, eh?”

“It’s my job to protect them,” Marc said.“And also to see Gilles Gagnon acquitted. Fortunately I’vepersuaded a judge that Gagnon be granted bail. He’s due to bereleased tomorrow morning.”

“Well, he’s in good hands,” Cobb said.

John Perkins lived at the west end of Queen Street,near the edge of town. Cobb approached the half-log cabin andrapped on the door. The door was opened a few moments later by ayoung woman in bonnet and apron, who was very much pregnant.

“What can I do for you, sir?” she saidpolitely.

“I’d like to speak with yer husband. I’mDetective-Constable Cobb and I’m here on a police matter.”

“He’s just inside. Please come in.”

Cobb stepped into the cabin. It was dark andgloomy, a single, sparsely furnished room with a curtained-offbedroom at the far end. A lone candle flickered on a rough-hewntable, upon which sat a teapot and two mugs. Perkins was seated atthe table, his chin in his hands. He looked up when Cobbentered.

“This is a detective from the police,” saidMrs. Perkins. “He’s come to see you.”

“Police?” Perkins said, starting to get up.“What next?”

“Please sit down, Mr. Perkins. My name’sCobb. I’ve come to ask you a few questions about the death of yourmistress, Mrs. Cardiff-Jones.”

“But I know nothing of that business,”Perkins said, sitting back down.

“That’s what I’ve come to find out,” Cobbsaid.

“Would you like some tea?” Mrs. Perkins said.“It’s fresh.”

“That would be nice,” Cobb said.

Mrs. Perkins went to an open cupboard andtook down a mug. She passed Cobb a mugful of steaming tea.

“I heard the lady was murdered,” Perkinssaid.

“She had acid thrown in her face and diedwhen she fell on a spike on her fence,” Cobb said, sitting down andtaking a sip of tea.