Don Gutteridge - Governing Passion

“Leading away from the scene?”

“Leading to Jarvis Street this time. Wherethey vanish.”

“But I told you before you cannot knowwhether these prints were made at the time of the murder. Theycould be just some gentleman on his way home.”

“But both girls were blond, sir. Sally hadher own hair and Sarie was wearin’ a blond wig. I’m sure that Sallywas taken fer a whore and Sarie was a known whore in Devil’s Acre.Those boots belong to a gentleman. So we’ve got a gentleman killerwho’s got it in fer blond whores, or just whores. He’ll kill again,I’m sure of it.”

Bagshaw leaned forward, taut as a spring. Histiny eyes shook in their sockets. “Now see here, Mr. Detective,you’re jumping to several conclusions at once. What do you want todo, spread panic through the city by saying we’ve got a maniac witha knife on the loose? No woman will feel safe on the streets!”

“But the crimes are in Devil’s Acre,sir.”

“And Devil’s Acre is full of respectablepeople every night of the week! No, Cobb, you’ve got two murders onyour hands. I want you to pursue John Kray for Sally Butts’smurder. He’s just the type of person to go off the deep end whenjilted. Get a warrant and search that house for a knife and aglove.”

“I’ve also got a gentleman’s scarf I foundnear the second scene with a ‘P’ on it,” Cobb said stubbornly.

Bagshaw’s gaze narrowed. “I know what you’rethinking, Cobb. I don’t want you near Pugh again. You’ve botheredhim enough, and you disobeyed me by seeing him without making anappointment.”

“I was thinkin’ of interviewin’ SimonWhitemarsh, sir. He was at the brothel last night and left aboutmidnight. He might’ve seen somethin’.”

“There you go again! You’re obsessed withgentlemen! That place is crawling with low-life and you’ve got topursue proper people.”

“Are you sayin’ I can’t talk toWhitemarsh?”

“Oh, go ahead. But I want Kray pursued, doyou hear? And I expect the house-to-house to turn up somethinguseful, considering the extra help I’m giving you. Now get out ofhere!”

Cobb was more than happy to leave.

***

While Rossiter and Wilkie took the description ofthe killer and went house to house in the area of each of thecrimes, Cobb got a search warrant from Magistrate Thorpe and wentto Kray’s cottage. Mrs. Kray answered the door, and was not pleasedto see the warrant Cobb brandished.

“You won’t find anything here, Cobb,” Kraysaid, trying to calm his mother. Cobb spent the next hourfruitlessly searching the Kray cottage. He felt foolish and veryannoyed with Bagshaw. It was so clear that the crimes wereconnected and that Kray had no motive whatsoever for killing SarieHickson.

“My son was home here all last night,” Mrs.Kray said in response to Cobb’s question. “From suppertime tillbreakfast.”

Cobb wasn’t surprised. He hoped, however, tobe surprised by the house-to-house inquiry. When he got back to thestation, however, he learned that no-one in Devil’s Acre had seenor heard anything. It was as if they had all been struck deaf anddumb. Fortunately the Chief was not there to hear the bad news: hehad been summoned to the Mayor’s office upstairs. Cobb decided togo and beard Whitemarsh — without an appointment.

Simon Whitemarsh answered his own door.

“I’m Constable Cobb.”

“I remember you, sir. What do you want?You’ve come at a very bad time.”

Cobb took a good look at Whitemarsh, whom heremembered from Madame LaFrance’s place as being a pasty-faced,soft-fleshed character with sleepy eyes. But the man before him wasquite flushed, as if he had been drinking, with bright red spots oneach of his cheeks. And his eyes were stark and staring, as ifhighlighted by kohl, with an unnatural brightness to them. Perhapshe had been taking opium.

“I’d like to ask you a few questions,” Cobbsaid.

“About Sarie Hickson’s death, I presume?”

“Yes, sir.”

“All right, then, come in. I can spare youfive minutes.”

“You live here alone?” Cobb said as heentered the vestibule.

“My mother shares the house. The servants areall out, as it happens.”

Whitemarsh did not move any farther into thehouse, so Cobb removed his helmet and said, “You were at MadameLaFrance’s last night?”

“You know I was.”

“I been told, yes, but I needed to hear itfrom you.”

“I was there until about midnight.”

“When you left fer home?”

“That’s right.”

“Did you go straight home?”

“I did. I go south to St. James and KingStreet.”

“Did you hear or see anythin’ unusual in thevicinity of the brothel?”

“Nothing. It was very quiet.”

“Except fer the murder of Miss Hickson, whichmust have happened only yards away from where you were shortlyafter midnight.”

“I’m sorry to hear of her death, but I’mafraid I cannot help you.”

“You ain’t lost a scarf?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“May I see yer foot, sir?”

“Good God, man, what are you up to?”

Cobb ignored him and glanced down at thefellow’s feet. They were exceptionally large. “May I see the bootsyou were wearin’ last evenin’?”

“You may certainly not. Do you think I hadanything to do with the murder? You must be crazier than youlook!”

“The killer wore boots with a special patternon the sole. I can stroke you off my list of suspects by checkin’yer boots.”

“It so happens that the boots I wore lastnight are at the repair shop today.”

“Then I’ll come back when they’rereturned.”

“Now, if that is all, I have business toattend to,” Whitemarsh said, turning away.

Cobb put his helmet back on. “Thank you feryer co-opt-eration ,” he said.

As he was going down the front steps, itoccurred to Cobb that the man’s lips had been excessively red.Could he have been wearing make-up? Was he into playing games, likeClough? What a nest of vipers he’d stuck his nose into!

***

Bagshaw was waiting for him in the anteroom. “I’vejust come from the Mayor,” he said, his taut body quivering like atuning fork.

“Had a nice visit, did you?”

“Don’t be funny, Cobb. The Mayor wanted toknow all the details so far. I told him the little bit you’vemanaged to gather. And by Christ, he agrees with you!”

“Me?”

“Yes, you! He’s convinced there’s a madkiller on the loose in his town. And so are a number of citizenswho’ve heard of the second murder. He’s afraid of panic in thestreets. He thinks men will keep their wives indoors. He wants thiskiller caught.”

“I’ve got to start over,” Cobb said. “I’msure the killer is a gentleman, one of the gentlemen at thebrothel. I’ve been lookin’ at the three Cavaliers, but there are adozen regulars or more in that whorehouse. I’ve got to go up thereand rout them out, one by one.”

“You’ll do nothing of the kind, Cobb. You’vealready upset enough gentlemen. Gussie told me while I was out thatGardiner Clough came here and complained that you’d accused him ofmurder. I told you to go easy there, but you’re incapable oflistening.”

“But we can’t just sit on our hands.”

“We’re not going to. We’re going to go backto basic police work, the kind we did when I was with the Met.”

“Whaddya mean?”

“I mean patrolling, that’s what. We’re goingto put three men on patrol all night in Devil’s Acre. If this is amad killer, then he’ll strike again. And we’ll catch him before hecan wield the knife. We’ll patrol for as many nights as it takes.And I want you to quit playing detective and join Wilkie andRossiter on the patrols. I want experienced men out there. And Ihear you’re pretty good at wielding a truncheon.”