Don Gutteridge - Governing Passion

“Good afternoon, ma’am,” Marc said in French.“My name is Marc Edwards and I’m investigating the murder of EarlDunham out at the Parliament building last night.”

“Yes. Michel told me about it just a fewminutes ago. Terrible thing, eh?”

“A brutal killing, yes.”

“You don’t think Michel had anything to dowith it?”

“I’d like to eliminate him and you could helpby answering a question or two.”

“Then please come in. I’ll put the kettleon.”

Marc followed her into a large kitchen inwhich the supper dishes were still being put away. A cooking-stovein one corner looked red hot, and the room itself was exceedinglywarm. Marc took off his coat and hat.

“I’m Madame Poulin,” the woman said. “I runthis boarding-house with the aid of my son. I’ve got water alreadyhot. I’ll just make the tea.”

While Marc watched, she made a pot of tea andserved Marc a mug. He sipped at the tea appreciatively.

“Now, how can I help you?”

“Well, Michel told me that he was in here allevening, but went out for a walk about ten o’clock. Did you see himdo so?”

“Yes, I did. I heard the clock striking tenwhen he told me he felt like a walk. He hadn’t slept well sincethat foreman fired his brother Denis off the job. Denis boards herewith his brother.”

“Were you awake when he got back?”

“I’m afraid I wasn’t. He has a key for thefront door. He must have let himself in.”

So, Jardin had no real alibi, and a strongmotive: revenge for the firing of his brother and Dunham’s generalmistreatment of French-Canadians.

“So it might have been very late?”

Madame Poulin looked puzzled. “I shouldn’timagine he was more than an hour or so, but as I said, I was fastasleep.”

“Thank you. That’s helpful information.”

They sipped at their steaming tea.

“You’re one of them Reformers that aremeeting at the Clarendon, aren’t you?” Madame Poulin saidsuddenly.

“Why, yes. How did you know?”

“I saw you coming out of the hotel yesterdayand you were with Mr. LaFontaine.”

Marc looked up, alert. “So you are familiarwith politics?”

“One has to be, eh?”

“Well, I am indeed an associate of Mr.LaFontaine.”

“And Robert Baldwin?”

“And Robert Baldwin.”

“We hear that you are planning some sort ofalliance.”

“I see that word has reached ground level,”Marc said with a smile. “What is your opinion of what we aredoing?”

“Well, like most French people, I amsurprised that you would try, let alone succeed. There is so muchbitterness between the races — ever since the rebellion.”

“That is precisely why we feel we must try toreconcile the two races, especially at the political level. WeReformers by and large did not support armed rebellion, but we didsympathize with its aims.”

“So you are radicals, too? And you hope yourradicalism will be enough to overcome your natural dislikes?”

Marc realized he was in the presence of afine intelligence. And decided here was a chance to get somefeedback from the French trenches.

“You are an admirer of Mr. LaFontaine?” hesaid.

“Yes and no. He has been strong andconsistent in his denunciation of the terms of the union, and yetnow he is proposing to take part in the new Parliament andcooperate with those he’s denounced for four years. He is apuzzle.”

“But you are willing to accept his judgementon the matter of an alliance?”

Madame Poulin paused, and finished her teabefore saying, “He is a great man, a great Frenchman. Many people Iknow are willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.”

“But he will have to tread carefully?”

Madame Poulin smiled, unwarily. “Indeed hewill. And he won’t be helped by this murder.”

“Oh. How so?”

“Well, Michel tells me they’ve charged one ofhis mates just because he’s a Frenchman. And here you are, comingaround to see if Michel might be part of this thing.”

“But I’m trying to find out who really didit,” Marc said. “I’ve talked to Jacques LeMieux and I believe himwhen he says he is innocent.”

“I see. Then I hope you’re successful,because to the French people in town — and there are a lot of themin the capital for the work that’s going on everywhere — it willlook like a case of racial bias.”

“That’s why LaFontaine and Robert Baldwinhave put me on the case. They are in the middle of negotiationswith possible supporters of our cause and any racial conflictlocally will not make them any easier.”

“Well, Michel and Denis are nice boys. Youcan safely look elsewhere.”

Marc stood up. “Thank you for your frankness,ma’am. I’ll convey your thoughts on the union to Mr.LaFontaine.”

Marc said goodbye at the door and left. Whilehe sincerely hoped that Michel Jardin did not kill Dunham, he stillcould not rule him out. Even his brother Denis was a possibility,though only Jardin, Manson and Leroy knew that Dunham was going tobe on guard duty that night. Unless, of course, Michel mentioned itto Denis. Marc turned back and surprised Madame Poulin at thedoor.

“Sorry to bother you again, Madame, but Iforgot to ask about Denis Jardin. Was he here last night?”

“He was here all evening with my son and me,playing cards. I saw him off to bed.”

Marc thanked her again and left, quitesatisfied with his visit.

***

Gregory Manson’s boarding-house was only a blockfrom the Clarendon Hotel, on Queen Street, so Marc returned thehorse and cutter to the livery stable and walked to the place, aone-storey clapboard cottage. He was shown in by the landlady, aMrs. Brownwell, who was as thin as a stork with a nose that wouldhave made that bird proud.

“I’ve come to ask you about the whereaboutsof Mr. Manson last night,” Marc said when they were seated in asmall, comfortable-looking parlour.

“This is about the murder?” she shuddered. “Ijust heard about it a little while ago. Horrible business. A bodyain’t safe on the streets no more.”

“I think the streets are safe, ma’am. Themurder took place way out at the hospital, which is being turnedinto Parliament.”

“Yes, ain’t it excitin’ that Kingston is tobe the new capital. We’re plannin’ on buildin’ a splendid cityhall, and there’s ever so much construction goin’ on everywhere.The only sad thing is that there are so many Frenchies comin’ inhere to work on the projects. After what they did in the rebellion,they should all be in prison.”

Marc winced, though this was a common enoughsentiment among many Upper Canadians. While Louis was concernedwith being seen to traffic with the enemy, Robert and the Reformershad a similar problem with many of the people who would normallysupport them. But an alliance was the only way forward, if adangerous one.

“I’d like to know if you heard Mr. Mansoncome in last night shortly after midnight?”

“Oh, gracious no. I was sound asleep. He lethimself in, but he told me at breakfast it was abouttwelve-thirty.”

If true, Marc thought, that would give himjust time to walk home from Bernie’s. But there was nocorroboration, so Manson did not really have an alibi. He couldhave gone straight to the site and struck Dunham, out of jealousyat not being made foreman. With Dunham dead, as he now was, Mansonhad got the job, at least temporarily.

Marc thanked Mrs. Brownwell. At the door shesaid, “I’d look to them Frenchies if I was you.”

***

As Mrs. Brownwell had suggested, Kingston was a boomtown. There was construction everywhere as residences for theeighty-four members of the Legislative Assembly and the othercouncillors and cabinet members had to be built from scratch. Manyof the limestone warehouses were being converted into hotels andboarding places comfortable enough for gentlemen, and in somecases, their ladies. New businesses to serve such an eliteclientele were springing up daily. All of this at Toronto’sexpense, which added spice to the enterprise.