Don Gutteridge - Governing Passion

“And that worked, did it?”

Another pause. Mrs. Butts said, “Sally toldme that he used to follow her to work, in Devil’s Acre. Sometimeshe’d be waiting for her when she finished work at one in themorning.”

“Said he was worried about her safety,” Buttsadded. “But it was a lot more than that.”

So, Cobb thought, Sally Butts was beingstalked by a jilted lover. Had they quarrelled a last time? Had hetaken out his anger in the most violent way possible?

Cobb obtained Kray’s address, apologizedagain for disturbing the Butts in their grief, and left with apromising lead.

***

According to Butts, John Kray lived with his motherin a small cottage near the corner of Church and Hospital Street.Cobb found it without difficulty. His knock was answered by anelderly, grey-haired woman with spectacles that made hersquint.

“I’m lookin’ fer yer son, John,” Cobbsaid.

“I’m lookin’ fer him, too,” Mrs. Kraysaid.

“He’s not here, then?”

“He ain’t been home fer two days.”

“Is that unusual?”

“It is. He’s a good boy, but he tends todrink and gamble a bit when he’s feelin’ down.”

“Do you know where he gambles?”

“At Ned Dowd’s dive in Devil’s Acre.”

“I’ll have a look fer him there, then.”

“Tell him to come home, will you?” Mrs. Krayasked in a pleading tone.

“I’ll do that,” Cobb said.

***

Devil’s Acre was as quiet as a tomb during daylighthours. It felt like a ghost town to Cobb as he walked through thenarrow alleys that served as streets. He had stopped in at theCrooked Anchor and bearded one of his snitches, Itchy Quick,concerning the whereabouts of Dowd’s gambling joint. It turned outto be about a block west of LaFrance’s brothel and a block and ahalf from the scene of the crime. Cobb rapped loudly on the dooruntil he finally roused someone inside.

The door inched open a crack. “We’re closedfer Christ’s sake. Go away.”

“I’m the police,” Cobb said, “and I need totalk to Ned Dowd.”

“You’re lookin’ at him,” the fellow saidgrumpily. “Whaddya want?”

“I need to know if John Kray is here orhereabouts.”

“Ah, Kray. He’s inside somewhere, sleepin’off a mighty drunk. Do you want me to kick him awake?”

“I do. I’ll wait outside here fer him.”

Cobb stood on the snow-covered stoop andwaited. Three or four minutes later a young man with a shock of redhair and puffed eyes came out, shivering in his overcoat.

“What’s this all about?” he saidnervously.

“I’ve come to talk to you about SallyButts.”

The young man’s expression softened. “MySally?” he said, puzzled. “Has anything happened to her?”

If he were faking his ignorance, he was doinga good job, Cobb thought. “I’m afraid I have to tell you that she’sdead,” he said.

“Dead? How?”

“She was murdered last night, not two blocksfrom where we’re standin’.”

“Oh, my God! That’s not possible.”

“I’m afraid it is. I seen the bodymyself.”

John Kray sat down on the stoop, put his headin his hands and wept. Cobb stood beside him, much embarrassed. Hehoped Kray wasn’t putting on a good show. Or perhaps he was weepingbecause of regret, not sorrow.

“Who did it?”

“We don’t know. Someone came up behind herand slashed her throat.”

“My God, that’s terrible. I begged her toleave that place.”

“I need to ask you, sir, where you were aboutten o’clock last evenin’.”

Kray looked up, startled. “You can’t think Ihad anythin’ to do with her death?”

“Well, sir, I know she had turned down yeradvances and that you were stalkin’ her right here in Devil’sAcre.”

“You’ve been talkin’ to her parents, haven’tyou?”

“Were you or were you not followin’ her abouttown?”

“I just wanted to talk to her. I wanted toget her out of Madame LaFrance’s whorehouse. She didn’t belongthere. Now she’s dead, because of it.”

“You ain’t answered my question yet.”

“I was in this dive, from eight o’clockonwards. I got thoroughly pissed. I just woke up a few minutesago.”

“I guess Ned Dowd can vouch fer that.”

“Of course he can.”

“I spoke to yer mother, son. She’s worriedsick about you. I’d advise you to go home. And stay there because Imight want to talk to you again.”

While John Kray staggered off, Cobb wentinside the foul-smelling dive and spoke to Ned Dowd, who — tono-one’s surprise — backed up Kray’s alibi. But in the smokyconfines of this gambling den a person could slip out easily andthen slip back in again without being noticed coming or going. Butof course Cobb couldn’t prove that that’s what had happened withKray.

Perhaps his evening would be moreproductive.

Cobb spent the early evening with Dora and the kids,then went out again about ten o’clock. He walked to Devil’s Acreand made his way through the fresh snow to Madame LaFrance’s place.He did not go right up to the door, but waited in the shadows untila well-dressed gentleman appeared out of a side-alley and ascendedthe front steps. Cobb slipped up behind him. The fellow then gave acoded knock and the door was instantly opened by Madame LaFranceherself.

“Come in, good sir. We’ve been expectingyou,” she boomed, then spied Cobb right behind and scowled.

Cobb pushed his way past the expectedgentleman into the anteroom of the parlour.

“What is the meaning of this, sir?” Madamecried as Cobb continued on past her.

“I’ve come to interview the three gentlemenwho left here just after Sally Butts last night. Please be kindenough to point them out to me.”

The expected gentleman had turned to leave,spooked no doubt by the sudden appearance of a policeman.

“Oh, don’t go, Merry Man,” Madame said. “It’sjust the Constable wanting some business with a couple of mycustomers. There’s nothing to fear. Is there?” she added toCobb.

“You can go on with yer business, such as itis,” Cobb said. “I just want to talk to those men who were herelast night.”

“What if I said they were not here?” Madamesaid coyly.

“I’d say you was lyin’,” Cobb said, for hehad already spotted three likely looking gentlemen together over bythe fire.

Madame smiled rakishly. “They’re over there.But please be tactful. I’ve got a business to run.”

Cobb made his way through the smoke and opiumhaze of the parlour towards the designated customers. He went up tothe overweight fellow and said, “Sir Gawain, I presume?”

Bartholomew Pugh gave a start, then tried asmile. “I go by that nomination in here. What do you want with me,Constable?”

“I want to talk to you three about SallyButts.”

“Oh. Poor Sally. We heard all about it whenwe arrived. We’ve been discussing her as a matter of fact.”

“That’s what I’d like to do,” Cobb said, “butfirst I want to talk to people who’ve got names besides the knightsof the Round Table.”

With obvious reluctance, Pugh, GardinerClough and Simon Whitemarsh introduced themselves, their voicesbarely above a whisper.

“I understand you admired Sally Butts,” Cobbbegan.

Pugh decided to be spokesperson for thegroup. “Yes, we did. She sang like a warbler. We came here mainlyto hear her sing.”

“You were not attracted to her in any otherway?”

Pugh feigned umbrage despite hissurroundings, heavy with the scent of opium and tawdry sex. “Ofcourse not. There are other girls here for that sort of stuff.”

“None of you decided to follow her after sheleft?”

“Why would we do that?” Clough said.

“I’m lookin’ fer witnesses,” Cobb saidcraftily. “Some sewer rat from Devil’s Acre slit Sally’s throat,and I need to know if any of you gentlemen, who left right afterthe girl, saw anyone suspicious lurkin’ in the area.”