Don Gutteridge - Governing Passion

“And I am needed here, aren’t I?”

“You’re essential to the success of ourplans.”

Pettigrew smiled. “And my sister is loved andsafe in Toronto, isn’t she?”

They were all in the anteroom of the police quartersat the rear of the City Hall: Cobb, Wilkie, Christine Pettigrew andChief Bagshaw. The latter had just arrived, having been wakenedjust after falling asleep. He was drowsy and shivering as he cameinto the room, and was shocked to find a young blond woman seatedbetween Cobb and Wilkie. Wilkie had got a roaring fire going in thestove, and Cobb had found in the constables’ room an extra cloak tothrow over the trembling shoulders of the girl. A tea kettlewhistled on the stove.

“What on earth’s happened?” Bagshaw said,though it was plain that he saw readily enough what hadoccurred.

“Another attack, sir,” Wilkie said.

“And unsuccessful this time,” Cobb said,pointing out the obvious.

“Our police whistles may have saved thelass,” Wilkie said.

Bagshaw glowered. “But four of you up therecouldn’t prevent the attack!”

“No, sir,” Wilkie said.

“The culprit got clean away?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Was he seen?”

“We were waiting to question the young ladytill you came,” Cobb said. “She’s had a terrible fright.”

“I’m much better now, Constable,” Christinesaid. “You’ve all been very kind.”

“I’ll make the tea,” Wilkie said.

“Can you tell us your name?” Bagshawsaid.

“Christine Pettigrew.”

Bagshaw blanched. “You live up in Birch Grovewith your brother, Christopher Pettigrew?”

“That’s right.”

Bagshaw now realized the enormity of what hadjust happened. A young woman of social standing had been attacked.The stakes were raised yet again.

“What were you doing in a place like Devil’sAcre?” Bagshaw said gently.

“Well, sir, I decided to pay my cousin avisit. She lives on King Street past York.”

“At ten o’clock in the evening?”

“I sent her a note saying I was coming, and Igot delayed at home.” Christine was still trembling now and then,but otherwise seemed quite composed. Wilkie handed her a mug oftea.

“But you have a carriage and a driver.”

“I do, of course. But I felt like a walk.It’s only fifteen minutes or so.”

“But we’ve had three murders in the last tendays.”

“I’ve always felt safe on our streets,especially with our constables on duty.”

Wilkie smiled at the compliment.

“But Devil’s Acre is not on your route, isit?”

“Birch Grove is about a quarter of a mileaway, off Jarvis Street north. I came down Jarvis and decided — foolishly, I now see — to cut through the corner of Devil’s Acre tosave a little time.”

“And you got lost in that maze ofalleys?”

“Yes. I couldn’t believe how fast I gotturned around.”

“This may be painful, ma’am, but tell us whathappened in there.”

Christine took a swallow of tea and held themug in both hands. “Well, I was walking along, peering right andleft, when I heard a thumping of footsteps coming up behind me. Iturned to look back and — ”

She paused and took another sip at hertea.

“Go on when you’re ready,” Cobb saidquietly.

“I looked back and this large dark shape wascoming at me. Its right hand was raised. There was a knife in it.”She shuddered at the memory. “He lunged at me and I fell backwards.I heard myself screaming.”

“And that — ”

“That seemed to scare the man, for it was aman, a tall man with a big black greatcoat, a fur hat and big blackboots. He paused and raised the knife again. I screamed. I heard apolice whistle somewhere. He did, too. And he took off.”

“Did he speak?”

“No. Not a word.”

“Did you see his face?” Cobb asked, and got aglare from his superior.

“No. It was too dark. I saw only that it wasa man.”

“Did he run off the way he had come?” Cobbasked.

“I’m not sure. I was terrified. I couldn’tscream again.”

“We didn’t find any bootprints,” Cobb said toBagshaw. “But that’s because the whole area was covered with ourown tracks.”

“And if those tracks had been where theyshould have been, Miss Pettigrew would not have been shamefullyattacked!” Bagshaw retorted.

Wilkie looked at the floor.

“Well, we did foil him, sir,” Cobb said.

“Wilkie, I want you to take Miss Pettigrewback to Birch Grove. And don’t try any short cuts!”

Wilkie escorted Christine out of theroom.

“Well, Mr. Detective, are we any furtherahead?” Bagshaw said, standing closer to the stove.

“We’ve got the description of the fellowrepeated,” Cobb said. “It jibes with Pugh’s.”

“That’s not a lot, is it?”

“We know now he’s right-handed.”

Bagshaw snorted. “So we’re looking for asix-foot, big-booted gentleman or would-be gentleman who’sright-handed?”

Cobb grimaced. “It’s not much, is it?”

***

Cyril Bagshaw was right about the stakes beingraised. On the afternoon following the latest attack, Bagshaw wassummoned to the mayor’s office, where he was given a gooddressing-down by Mayor Kennedy and two aldermen.

“We’ve doubled the size of your force toallow you to patrol our streets day and night,” the mayor ranted.“And suddenly we’ve had three murders and a near-murder, all withinan area no bigger than a city block. Get your troops out there andcatch this maniac!”

Bagshaw took the criticisms quietly, but hewas boiling inside. The mayor was right, though. His troops hadfailed him. And especially that fellow who called himselfdetective. “I’d like permission, sir, to end this detectiveexperiment. I’d like to put every man on the street.”

The Mayor’s gaze narrowed. “It seems to me,Bagshaw, as if what we need on this case is more detecting, notless. Move Cobb around as you see fit, but he remains our detective- for now.”

“Yes, sir.” He’d move Cobb around all right!“ We’ll catch this fellow soon. I guarantee it.”

“I don’t want guarantees, sir, I wantresults.”

And with that Bagshaw was summarilydismissed.

***

Cobb found himself on night-patrol with Brown,Rossiter and Wilkie. For two fruitless nights they pounded up anddown the alleys and lanes of Devil’s Acre. So effective were theythat hardly a soul ventured into the gambling dens and brothels.Madame LaFrance came out on her stoop and shook her fist at them.The snow was hard-packed where the constables walked, so that thebig-booted maniac could have come and gone without his spoor beingnoticed. But, of course the murders had occurred on every thirdnight, so it was with much more expectation that the four patrolmenmet at eight o’clock that evening at the police quarters. ChiefBagshaw was waiting for them. He came out of his office with alaundry bag in his hand.

“What’s up?” Rossiter said.

“I’ve come up with a plan,” the Chief said,smiling tightly. “I’m sick and tired of having the madman makefools of us. I’m going to set a trap for him.”

“A trap? How?” Wilkie said.

“I’m going to provide the killer with a blondwoman to kill.”

“But sir,” Brown said, “you can’t expose awoman to the possibility of havin’ her throat slit!”

Bagshaw grinned. “Ah, but I don’t intendto.”

Cobb looked at the laundry bag. “You’re gonnago there in costume?” he said.

“Close, Cobb, close. I am not going incostume. Wilkie is.”

Wilkie blanched. “As a woman?” he gasped.

“As a seductive blond woman. Our killer — this is likely his night — won’t be able to resist, but he’ll findhimself face to face with a policeman’s truncheon.”