Don Gutteridge - Governing Passion

“You never met the bride?”

“I don’t have to! I know what she must belike. She’s selfish and cruel to steal my darling Christopher fromme. Don’t you agree?”

“Well, I’d have to meet her, wouldn’t I?”

“She’s a witch! She’s bewitched my poor,helpless Christopher. Damn her!”

“I think you’re gettin’ yerself all workedup, ma’am. Perhaps I oughta go and leave ya to yer thoughts.”

Christine looked over at Cobb with somethinglike pity in her eyes. “You’re a man, aren’t you? I wouldn’t expectyou to understand anything of what I’m suffering.”

“I know you’re upset, that’s fer sure.”

“Well, go, then. I’ll just have to talk toChristina.”

“Who’s Christina?”

In a faraway, plaintive voice, Christinesaid, “Oh, just a friend who comes by every once in a while.Perhaps she’ll come this evening. Do you think so?”

“I’m sure she will,” Cobb said. He got up,snatched a chocolate, and said, “I best be off to my post.”

But she didn’t seem to hear him. She was offin some world of her own — where twin brothers didn’t betray.

A day later, Marc returned to Marvin Leroy’sboarding-house. This time, Mrs. Soames, his landlady, was home. Sheherself answered the door. She was a tiny wisp of a woman with redhair and bright blue eyes. She wiped her hands on her apron andinvited Marc in.

“I’ve come to ask you a question about thenight that Earl Dunham was murdered,” Marc said. “Two nightsago.”

“Well, come in and have a cup of tea,” Mrs.Soames beamed, her friendly face seemingly arranged in a permanentsmile. “It’s not every day I get to meet a gentleman.”

“Please, don’t go to any trouble. This willjust take a minute.”

“I don’t hurry in my business, young man. IfI did, I’d never stop running. I’ve already got the kettle on theboil. I’ll just make us a fresh pot. Come along into thekitchen.”

The Soames’ kitchen was spacious andcomfortable. Mrs. Soames made the tea and put out a plate of tarts.She settled down at the kitchen table opposite Marc, who hadremoved his hat and coat and placed them on a chair. The room waswarm and cosy. It reminded Marc of Briar Cottage and the family hehadn’t seen for over a week.

“Now then, you had a question you wanted toask me,” Mrs. Soames said, sipping her tea.

“Yes, I’m investigating the murder, and Ineed to know what time Mr. Leroy, your boarder, arrived home thenight it happened. Did you hear him come in?”

“I’m a light sleeper. I remember hearing theclock strike one, and I hadn’t heard the door open and close bythat time.”

“So Leroy could have arrived much later?”

“I suppose he could. I fell asleep afterone.”

So Leroy had no real alibi. And no realmotive either.

“You are married?” Mrs. Soames asked.

“Yes, and I have two children.”

“How wonderful. Mr. Soames and I have notbeen so blessed.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“But I take a keen interest in the young menwho board here.”

“So you know Mr. Leroy well?”

“He’s only been with us six months, but he’sa talkative fellow and we hit it off right away.”

“And he’s an honest, upstanding fellow?” Marcasked, seeing his chance to get some background on Leroy.

“Oh, yes. Despite the sad life he’s led.”

“Oh? He’s suffered some tragedy?”

“Not directly. It was his sister who was thetragic figure.”

“They were close?”

“Very close.”

“What happened? Did his sister die?”

“Oh, no, sir. Worse than that. She was leftstanding at the altar, if you can believe it.”

“Her husband-to-be didn’t show up?”

“That’s right. Backed out at the lastminute.”

“That must have been devastating.”

“It was. And I’m afraid Mr. Leroy bears ahatred for the man to this day.”

“It would be hard to blame him.”

“And then he comes from Montreal and findsout he’s got to work right next to this dreadful man.”

“Out at the hospital?”

“That’s right.”

“Who would that be, ma’am?”

“Why the man who was killed — EarlDunham.”

***

So, Marc had now come up with three viable suspects: Michel Jardin, Gregory Manson and Marvin Leroy, each with strongpersonal motives and no real alibi. Of the three, Manson haddefinitely been out at the building site after midnight. But if hedid leave Dunham alive, then either Leroy or Jardin could have comealong afterwards and done the deed. But how was Marc to get anycloser to discovering which one did it? The murderer did not seemlikely to confess, and Marc had no physical evidence other thanManson’s lost button and the murder weapon, LeMieux’s hammer. Heexplained all this to Robert back at the hotel.

“You’ve done good work, Marc. But we’vereached a dead end, eh?”

“It looks that way, Robert. But if I can’tfind the real killer, I’m pretty sure I can get an acquittal forLeMieux in court.”

“But that won’t be for several months at theSpring assizes,” Robert said. “And I understand the small Frenchcommunity in town is quite upset at LeMieux’s being charged.There’s talk of a revolt by the French workmen out at the site. Andwith negotiations still going on between Louis, us and the otherpotential French members of our alliance, the whole enterprisecould be put in jeopardy, especially if this unrest among theFrench here grows worse. In short, we can’t wait for theassizes.”

“Well, I’ll think of something,” Marcsaid.

“Meanwhile, I need you to accompany youngPettigrew to Cornwall on the chance that Thériault will be luredthere by Pettigrew’s most recent letter. The murder investigationwill have to be put on hold.”

“I’ll go and see Pettigrew right away. We’llleave this afternoon.”

Marc went immediately to ChristopherPettigrew’s room The young man answered the door in an agitatedstate.

“What’s the matter?” Marc asked.

“It’s my sister,” Pettigrew said, waving asheet of paper at Marc. “She’s had a terrifying experience. I’mneeded at home right away.”

“Is that a letter from her?”

“Yes. You’d better read it.”

Marc took the letter and read:

Dear Christopher:

You had the gall to send me a miniature of yourharlot. I spit upon her yellow-headed image! How dare you choosesomeone who resembles me? Do you not have a heart? Have we notshared our lives for twenty-five years. Can you forget the thousandchildhood hours we spent in each other’s company? Even Mother andFather could not keep us apart for more than a minute. Why do youthink I dressed as a boy and had my hair cut short when we wereeleven? I could not bear to have you go off hunting with Fatherwhile I sat in our rooms tatting doilies. I hunted as keenly as youdid. And wasn’t it you who cried the first time you shot a rabbit,and wasn’t it you who were afraid of father’s skinning knife, evenwhen he showed us how to use it, and later in our room I consoledyou and swore the next time I would cry along with you just so youwouldn’t be embarrassed? These were the moments that bonded us asclose as if we were identical and not fraternal twins.

I think of these matters in the midst of mypain, with only old Mrs. Baldridge to try to soothe it away, whenall I need is my loving brother near me. If you do not come backimmediately, I feel I will sink permanently into the blackness thatengulfs me whenever I think upon your absence and your lies andthat wanton creature you claim will take my place and leave meforsaken forever!

And just now a horrible thing has happened. Ihave been attacked in the street by a madman, and almost killed! Iwas so lonely I went off to see our cousin at ten in the evening. Igot lost in Devil’s Acre. And had to face — alone — aknife-wielding killer. And why was I alone? Because you’veabandoned me!