Don Gutteridge - The Widow's Demise

“That’s horrible,” Perkins said. “I had nolove for the woman after what she did to me, but nobody deserves todie like that.”

“You mean firin’ you?” Cobb said.

Perkins looked startled, and a flash of fearwent across his face. “You know about that?’

“I do.”

“She fired me for no reason whatsoever. SaidI was spying on her, when all I did was answer a question from themaster – truthfully.”

“So you had good cause to be mad?”

“Of course I was angry and upset. I’ve got awife who’s expecting a child this month and debts to pay off. Andthe woman refused to give me a reference even though I’ve workedthere satisfactorily for eight years.”

“He won’t be able to get another job easily,”Mrs. Perkins said, hovering behind her husband.

“I’m sorry about that. But you, sir, wereoverheard threatenin’ to do harm to Mrs. Cardiff-Jones.”

“Who told you that?”

“Never mind about who. You said you’d geteven, isn’t that right?”

“He never meant it, did you, John?”

“I was very upset,” Perkins said. “I justflew off the handle a bit, that’s all. In front of the maids. Imeant no real harm.”

“But the lady is dead shortly thereafter,”Cobb said quietly.

The fear came back into Perkins’ eyes. “Youdon’t think that I had anything to do with her death?”

“Where were you on the night of thecrime?”

Perkins tried to catch his breath. “I was . .. I was home here. All evening. I was drinking a little, to drownmy sorrows.”

“And can Mrs. Perkins vouch fer you?”

“Liz was out visiting her sister.”

“I didn’t get back until ten o’clock,” Mrs.Perkins said. “John was here. A little drunk. I put him tobed.”

“So you were all alone the rest of theevenin’” Cobb said to Perkins.

“Of course I was. We have no money to beentertaining guests.”

“Were you mad enough to throw acid in Mrs.Cardiff-Jones’s face?”

Perkins flinched. “I was not! Where would Iget acid?”

“At any apothecary’s.”

“Well, I didn’t. Why would I? When I had timeto cool off, I realized my best hope was to throw myself on themercy of Mr. Cardiff and ask him for a reference. He liked me alot.”

“But he fired you?”

“He didn’t want to, but she hadcontrol over him.”

“Maybe he’ll take you back,” Mrs. Perkinssaid. “Now that she’s dead.”

“I’ve got a glove here I’d like you to tryon, Cobb said.

“What ever for?” Perkins said.

“It was found near the body.”

Cobb pulled the glove from his pocket.

“But that’s a gentleman’s glove. It’d be amonth’s wages.”

“I need to see if it fits.”

“Very well.” Perkins pulled the gloveawkwardly towards his right hand. It slipped on easily.

“But it’s not mine!”

“We’ve never seen it before!” Mrs. Perkinssaid excitedly.

“It don’t prove nothin’” Cobb saidplacatingly. “But neither does it eliminate Mr. Perkins as asuspect.”

“Is there any more you want of me?” Perkinssaid.

“No, sir. That will be all. Thank you fer yercooperation.”

Cobb drained his tea, and left. He heard abuzz of dialogue start up behind him. He felt sorry for Perkins,but the man was still very much a suspect, with motive andopportunity. Cobb went to the police quarters to write up hisnotes. Then he went straight to Briar Cottage.

***

It was late in the evening when the meeting tookplace in Baldwin House. Present were Robert Baldwin; his father,Dr. William Warren Baldwin; Louis LaFontaine; Francis Hincks; andMarc Edwards. They had come to discuss the progress of the electionand the release on bail of Gilles Gagnon the next morning. Louis,who had just come from a late visit to his lieutenant, looked paleand tired. It had been a gruelling campaign – before the voting andduring it. And the weight on his mind of Gilles Gagnon’slife-threatening predicament was overwhelming.

“Thank you for persuading the judge to letGilles out,” Louis said to Marc when the meeting had been called toorder.

“There’s only a week till the trial,” Marcsaid, “but I didn’t want Gilles to spend one minute more in thatdank place than was necessary.”

“There’s a lot of anti-French sentiment beingstirred up among the Tories,” Hincks said.

“And not just the Tories, I’m afraid,” saidRobert. “I’ve heard rumblings among our supporters in thetownship.”

“That may account for the closeness of therace,” said Marc. “What is the latest count?”

“Our scrutineers have it almost dead even. Ithink we may be two votes up,” Hincks said.

“Well, a few of the farmers on our side arestill taking their crops off the fields,” said Robert. “They’llshow up in the next few days and turn the tide.”

“I’ve heard rumours of worse,” Dr. Baldwinsaid.

“Oh. What is that?” Robert said.

“There’s talk on the street of a bigdemonstration against Gilles and the Quebecers,” Dr. Baldwin said.“To be held outside the jail.”

“Well, then, it’s a good thing we’re gettingGilles out of there at nine o’clock in the morning.”

“He’ll be safe here in Baldwin House,” Robertsaid.

“Perhaps we’d all better go to fetch Gillestomorrow,” Hincks said. “Just in case any of the protesters decideto show up. They may have got wind of Gilles’ release.”

“A good idea,” Louis said.

“We can take our brougham,” Robert said.

“How is the defense shaping up?” Louis askedMarc.

“I’ve been given lots of evidence that pointsto three or four other suspects, and I intend to use it with allthe skill I can muster,” Marc said.

“That’s good enough for me,” Robert said.

“Meanwhile, Detective-Constable Cobb isstriving mightily to find the real killer – despite the objectionsof his superior.”

“He’s a good man,” said Robert.

“The best,” Marc said.

***

The sun rose the next morning in a cloudless sky. Itshone brightly on the east wall of the jail and upon the broad lawnin front of it. The jail and matching Court House next to it weretwo of the proudest public buildings in the city. But this morningthe public, or a particular part of it, had something on its mindother than admiration. Long before nine o’clock, the streets andalleys leading to Church and King were marked by the presence ofmen who walked stealthily and steadily towards the jail. They didnot speak to one another as they converged, but there was aboutthem a purpose and a will. And it did not bode well.

By quarter to nine the esplanade in front ofthe jail and Court House was jammed with outraged citizens. Somecarried placards proclaiming “Death to the Frenchman,” “HangGagnon,” “No Bail for Killers,” and “Frogs Go Home.” The jailer,sensing trouble, sent for the police, and Constables Phil Rossiterand Ewan Wilkie arrived shortly thereafter.

“Shall we try to move ‘em?” Wilkie askedRossiter. They were standing in the front doorway surveying thecrowd, who in their turn were hurling impolite suggestions to thepolice.

“Not as long as they’re peaceful,” Rossitersaid. “I don’t see no weapons.”

“I spotted a club or two, near the back,”Wilkie said.

“Come to protect the murderer, have you?”someone shouted.

“We’re here to see that justice is done!”someone else cried.

“We’ll let the judge decide that,” Rossiterhollered over the general din.

Just then a black brougham pulled by twohorses wheeled onto the path that circled in front of the jail andsurrounded the crowd. In it were Louis LaFontaine, Robert Baldwinand Francis Hincks; on the driver’s seat sat Marc Edwards. The topwas folded down, exposing them all to the sudden shouts of derisionfrom the gathering.