Don Gutteridge - Governing Passion

“You’re a fine patrolman, Mister Cobb. Youalways was. And who knows, you might catch the killer tonight.”

Cobb nodded. “The first two crimes were threedays apart, weren’t they?”

“You’re sure it’s the same person?”

“Positive. I got a gentleman’s glove and agentleman’s scarf found near each crime scene, a pair ofgentleman’s boots makin’ clear signs in the snow, and a fistful ofgentlemen at the brothel two blocks away. That’s enough ferme.”

“There are other brothels.”

“But Madame LaFrance’s is the only onecaterin’ to real gentlemen.”

“How long is Bagshaw gonna keep you onnight-patrol?”

“I’m afraid it might be till we catch thekiller.”

“Well, it sure is a nuisance havin’ youaround here all day tryin’ to sleep.”

“I’ll be sure and tell Bagshaw about yerobjection.”

***

Cobb met Wilkie and Rossiter, his fellow patrolmen,at the cathedral entrance to Devil’s Acre at eight o’clock thatnight. A light snow was falling on the gravestones in thecathedral’s cemetery, and Cobb shuddered under his turned-upcollar. Cobb told the others that he would take the west side ofthe maze, and suggested, as they had done the previous night, thatWilkie do the north-east and Rossiter the south-east. Cobb was notlooking forward to the night’s work. He felt that no murderer,however mad, would come out knowing that his territory was beingpoliced by three constables. And their presence was well known toresidents and visitors alike. The word had spread quickly, and onmore than one occasion an angry resident had left his businessestablishment to complain that his customers, respectable citizensall, were being frightened off by the police presence. MadameLaFrance had come out onto her stoop and shooed Wilkie away (he wasdozing on the lower step).

“We gotta tramp around here till sun-up,”Cobb said to his associates. “And it’s cold enough tonight thatwe’ll have to keep movin’ or freeze to death.”

With that advice Cobb walked into Devil’sacre and swung west. After two previous nights of wandering aroundnot knowing where he was, Cobb felt that he had finally figured outthe lay of the land. But if you didn’t stay alert, you could soonfind yourself coming up against a dead end or re-entering an alleyyou had just come out of. The snow made it even more difficult tosee the shape of buildings or the far end of an alley, and Cobbrealized that the killer would be able to carry out his crime andescape notice, despite the police. Throat-slashing was a silentbusiness and the snow would camouflage a getaway.

Cobb had been meandering for about an hour — his feet were already cold — when he thought he saw a shadow upahead, moving stealthily across in front of him. He ran towards itand skidded to a stop at the end of the alley. He looked left. Hesaw nothing. Without warning something heavy and grappling slammedinto him and knocked him over. He rolled to one side, expecting atany second to feel a knife-blade at his throat.

“Gotcha!” Wilkie cried, pouncing on Cobb ashe lay helpless on the ground.

“Fer Christ’s sake, it’s me you’ve caught.Get off!”

Wilkie rolled away. “I heard somethin’ comin’up behind me,” he said, breathless, “and so I ducked aside untilyou went by. I was sure you was the killer.”

“Well, I ain’t, and you’re patrollin’ my territory!”

“It’s so easy to get turned around in here.I’m — I’m sorry.”

“And you’ve gone and got me all covered withsnow,” Cobb complained. “My balls are already frozen solid.”

“Maybe that madam would let us warm our toesfer a bit.”

Cobb brushed the snow off his greatcoat andtrousers. “That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said tonight,” hesaid.

They made their way, after missing severalturns, to the brothel, and Cobb gave the coded knock. MadameLaFrance answered.

“We was wonderin’ if we could warm ourselvesby yer fire,” Cobb said.

“You might as well,” Madame said with a sigh.“You’ve scared off most of my customers. I guess they’ll not comeback till you fellas have caught the killer. I might as well be ofsome help.”

“Thank you,” Cobb said.

They entered the parlour and made their wayto the roaring fire. The room was empty, of customers andgirls.

“We’ll just stay a minute,” Cobb said. “Untilour toes thaw out.”

“Can I get you something warm to drink?”

“No, thank you.”

Just then Bartholomew Pugh and GardinerClough came down the stairs and stopped when they spotted theconstables. They turned and went back up the way they had come.

“I guess they ain’t worried about killers,”Wilkie observed.

“That’s because one of them might be akiller,” Cobb said. To Madame LaFrance, seated at the piano, hesaid, “Is the other one here as well?”

“Sir Galahad?”

“That’s the one.”

“He left just a few minutes ago.”

“Then I guess we better get back out there,”Cobb said to Wilkie. “I don’t trust any of these so-calledgentlemen.”

He and Wilkie headed out into thestill-falling snow. Cobb went directly west, along the route thatboth Pugh and Sally Butts had taken several nights ago. Wilkieturned south. Ten minutes later, Cobb was just enjoying the returnof feeling in his feet when he heard Wilkie cry out.

“Where are you, Wilkie?” he called.

After a brief pause in which there wasnothing but silence, Wilkie blew on his whistle (Chief CyrilBagshaw had insisted that all his patrolmen be equipped withwhistles to be able to alert fellow constables of their whereaboutswhen needed). Cobb moved in the direction of the sound, but therewas, of course, no direct route. But Wilkie, bless him, continuedto blow. He’s discovered the killer, was Cobb’s first thought. Andcould be in danger himself.

Cobb finally rounded a corner and saw Wilkiestanding in the middle of an alley with the whistle stuck in histeeth. The snow had stopped, and he was clearly visible. So was thebulk of the body lying at his feet.

Cobb raced up to Wilkie who was still blowingon the whistle.

“I’m here, Wilkie. You can stop thatnow!”

Wilkie, as pale as the snow around him,pointed at the ground. “I found her,” he stammered. “Anotherone.”

Cobb knelt beside the body. Fresh blood wasstill leaking into the snow, from a slashed throat. “You’re right.It’s another woman. And just killed.”

Cobb stood up and glanced farther up thealley. There, among the competing ones, were the bootprints heexpected to see. “He can’t have gotten far,” he said. “Go andinform the Chief and the coroner. I’m going after the bastard.”

He set out on the trail of the bootprints,fresh and stark in the snow, their star-pattern winking up at himlike a taunt. The trail zigzagged several times, but eventually ledto an alley that opened onto Jarvis Street to the south-east. Againas Cobb arrived there, he saw evidence of a shuffling about, as ifthe killer were waiting for the all-clear on Jarvis before steppingout. But this time, with fresh snow, the trail ought to have keptgoing. However, just as Cobb was about to move onto the street, asquall of snow erupted in his face. He saw a shadow flit into analley or side-street to the north, but a gust of wind blew snow upinto his face and he could see nothing. Not even the boot tracksthat were, like everything else, swallowed up in the maelstrom. Hewalked a block north, but the trail, if there was one, had gonecold. Cobb cursed the snow, and headed back to Devil’s Acre,retracing his own prints before they too were obliterated. He cameagain to the body. Wilkie was gone but Rossiter had come up toassist.

They looked down at the body, slumped on itsside. It was warm all right. She was wearing a fur coat and aladies’ fur hat and ladies’ button boots. Cobb was not surprised tosee the thick, blond hair under the hat.