Don Gutteridge - Governing Passion

“I have no idea what time I left.”

“Madame LaFrance says it was midnight.”

“Then that’s the time I left, isn’t it? Ihope you aren’t playing games with me. I am not amused by yourinterrogations.”

“Did you go straight home?”

“On my usual route, yes.”

Cobb withdrew the silk scarf. “Is this yours,sir?”

Pugh looked startled. He came across the roomand took the scarf in his hands. “I have half a dozen white silkscarves, Constable. So has every gentleman in town.”

“But notice the monogram on this one.”

Pugh looked at the capital “P.” He did notflinch. “None of my scarves is monogrammed. This cannot bemine.”

“Then you will not refuse when I ask you toshow me the gloves you normally wear when you go out in thisweather.”

“What are you driving at? I’ve already toldyou I didn’t lose a glove three nights ago.”

“Then you won’t mind showin’ me the ones you didn’t lose.”

“I have several pairs the same. But since youinsist, I’ll humour you. But I shall have to report your behaviourto your superior, Mr. Bagshaw.”

“I’ll wait,” Cobb said.

Pugh left the room and came back severalminutes later. He had a pair of leather gloves in his hand. Hethrust them at Cobb. Cobb took the glove he had found in the alleyout of his other pocket. He examined it closely, next to the onesgiven him by Pugh.

“You see,” Pugh said, “I have a matchedpair.”

“But this one I brought is exactly the samekind of glove,” Cobb said. “Somewhere you’ve got the missin’mate.”

Pugh leaned forward and put both hands on thelibrary table, seething with anger.

“You were in that alley where Sally Butts waskilled,” Cobb said, “and you were loose in Devil’s Acre about thetime that Sarie Hickson was comin’ back from her appointment — ”

“Oh, damn it, all right!” Pugh criedsuddenly. “I was near the alley where Sally was killed! Are yousatisfied?”

“I see,” Cobb said, as surprised as he washappy that he had elicited this admission. “But you didn’t kill thegirl?”

“Of course, I didn’t, you fool! I wasinfatuated with her. Besotted with her.” He drew a deep breath andsaid, “I was at the near end of the alley. I saw Sally towards thefar end. And there was between us a huge man in a black overcoatwearing enormous boots. I saw him go up behind her and grab heraround the chest. I cried out and ran towards her. The dark figurecontinued on up the alley and disappeared around the corner. I wentto Sally. Her throat had been slashed. She was dying. I panicked. Ithought I might be accused of killing her because everybody at thebrothel knew I was obsessed with her. I ran back the way I came andsneaked off home by another route.”

“So the killer was a tall man with largeboots?”

“And a fur hat.”

“And you’re sure this ain’t yer scarf?”

Pugh shook his head. Cobb was almost inclinedto believe him. Certainly his description of the killer fitted withthe bootprints and their size. It didn’t seem probable that Pughwas making all this up. And Pugh, as a discreet glance at thefellow’s feet confirmed, had fairly small feet. Still, he wasn’tfully in the clear as far as Cobb was concerned. The extra bigboots could have been worn by anybody. But he realized he was notgoing to get anything more out of the man this day. He had a lotthough. He was pretty certain he now knew what the killer lookedlike.

He left quietly, avoiding Smithers.

***

Carswell, Gardiner Clough’s butler, was notstandoffish at all. He seemed to be expecting Cobb, for he usheredhim straight in. Then, ignoring the main hall, he took him by aroundabout route to the kitchen, where Clough, angular andhaggard-looking, was sitting beside the stove.

“Why the secrecy?” Cobb said, coming over,removing his coat and helmet, and sitting on a wooden chairopposite Clough.

“The wife,” Clough said.

Cobb had found out a little about Clough fromBagshaw, who took it upon himself to know what needed to be knownabout his betters. Clough had once been an active barrister, buthad married rich and was living nicely off his wife’s income. And,Cobb assumed, she would not approve of his peccadilloes.

“I just need to ask you a few questions aboutSarie Hickson,” Cobb said.

“I thought you might. I heard about her deathan hour ago. It came as a terrible shock, as you can imagine.Especially coming so soon after poor Sally.”

“She was killed the same way and by the sameperson who killed Sally Butts.”

“Then you’ve got to catch him, don’t you,before he kills again.”

“You can help us with that, sir.”

Clough looked up, his sharp features shadowedwith anxiety. “How?”

“Sarie was here last night.”

Clough nodded.

“She was a regular visitor?”

“Yes. Every week or so. Whenever my wife wasaway.”

“We found her in a strange costume.”

A brief smile passed over Clough’s face. “Ah,yes. She was playing Madame de Pompadour for me. She came and wentin costume.”

“What time did she leave?”

“Just before midnight, as usual.”

“Right. That confirms the time of death atabout twelve-fifteen. Thank you for that.” Cobb paused and thensaid, “You and Sarie had — ah, cordial relations?”

Clough was startled by the abruptness of thequestion. “Of course. She was a sweet girl. I’ll — I’ll miss hervery much.”

“Did she know who you were?”

“Of course not. She knew me only asLancelot.”

“But she knew this house, where you live,didn’t she?”

“How else could she get here?”

“She could easily figure out who livedhere.”

“But she didn’t, did she?”

Cobb wasn’t convinced by the vehemence ofthis response. He sensed a touch of panic in it.

“What are you driving at anyway?” Cloughsaid.

“I was just thinkin’ that you might bewillin’ to pay a lot fer keepin’ yer secrets safe from yerwife.”

“You think Sarie was blackmailing me? That’spreposterous!”

“If she was, that is a good motive fermurder, isn’t it?”

“But she wasn’t! And I may be a fool, but I’mno killer.”

Cobb realized he had, in his zeal, gone toofar. “I’m sorry fer bringin’ it up, sir.”

“I should think you would be!”

“You been very helpful.”

“Carswell will show you out.”

Via the roundabout route, Cobb thought.

***

Now that he had established the likely time of death- twelve-fifteen — Cobb went back to the police quarters to seekpermission to use two or three constables to do a house-to-houseinquiry in the block around the alley where Sarie Hickson had beenmurdered.

“Good work, Cobb,” Bagshaw said when Cobbtold him he had discovered the time of the murder from Clough..“And I trust you treated the gentleman properly?”

“With kid gloves, sir.”

“I’ll let you organize the house-to-house.Now fill me in on what else you’ve found out about this secondmurder.”

“Well, sir, I’m convinced we’re lookin’ atone killer and two crimes.”

“What do you base this bizarre conclusionon?”

“Bartholomew Pugh was a witness to the firstcrime, and he’s given us a clear description of Sally Butts’skiller: a tall gentleman with a fur hat, dark overcoat and bigboots.”

“That should prove helpful for finding thekiller of the first girl.”

“Well, we may get lucky and find a witnessfor the second crime, too. At least we’ll be able to comparedescriptions if we do.”

“But what’s the evidence for one killer?”

“The boots are the clearest link. I foundboot-tracks again — large boots with a star-shaped pattern on thesole. And Pugh says he saw a man with big boots.”