Don Gutteridge - Vital Secrets

At ten o’clock the next morning, with his report sketched out and under his arm, Marc slipped past Ogden Frank into the empty taproom. He opened the door to the theatre, startled Wilkie awake, and asked him to bring Thea Clarkson down to the hotel dining-room. Moments later, Thea, Wilkie, and Cobb arrived simultaneously. Wilkie scuttled back to his sentry post. Marc mouthed the word laudanum at Cobb, who shook his head slowly. Marc then turned to Thea, who looked very nervous, wondering no doubt what new calamity was about to strike. He got right to the point. “We have discovered, Miss Clarkson, that you purchased a quantity of laudanum from Ezra Michaels’s shop on King Street last Saturday afternoon.”

Thea went white, then red. She stared at the table and said nothing.

“As you know, Tessa Guildersleeve and Ensign Hilliard were drugged with laudanum. The empty bottle, which is unquestionably the one you purchased, was found in the hall upstairs near Tessa’s room. We know you couldn’t have committed the murder yourself, but as the supplier of the drug, you must be considered-”

“I had nothing to do with that!” she cried. “Nothing! Why are you doing this to me?” She laid her head in her arms and wept wearily.

“All we need to know,” Marc said soothingly, “is whether you have any plausible explanation for why you purchased laudanum last Saturday.”

Thea’s tears slowed and stopped. Summoning her strength, she raised her head and faced her tormentors. “I bought the laudanum in order to kill myself.”

“I don’t understand,” Marc said lamely.

“I’m carrying Jason’s child, and the bastard refused to marry me. He wasn’t even man enough to admit it was his.” Her voice was thin, but very cold.

“But you couldn’t go through with it.”

“I would’ve,” she said. “But when I got back here, I found I’d lost the stuff somewhere. You can believe me or not. I don’t give a damn anymore.”

“Oh, I believe you,” Marc said. Cobb could only look at him in astonishment.

when Thea had been put into the solicitous care of Madge Frank, where she was to remain for the time being, Cobb lit up his pipe and said to Marc, “You sure she didn’t just happen to drop that loud-numb near somebody who didn’t like Merriwether any more’n her?”

“What I think is that Thea Clarkson is much more likely to harm herself than anyone else. What we know for certain, though, is that we still have a vial of laudanum unaccounted for.”

“She could’ve dropped it anywheres between here an’ Michaels’s place.”

Marc sighed. “And there’s still no way to link it to Merriwether himself. By the by, did you and Mrs. Cobb enjoy the performance last night?”

“Yes, we did, though I kept thinkin’ I was gonna fall outta that apple-box an’ land on somebody I oughtn’t to! But them Yankees can sure sing an’ dance! I figured Missus Cobb’s foot-tappin’ would wake the dead at Lundy’s Lane!”

“Well, I want you up there again this evening, and Dora, too, if she so wishes. I want you as my eyes and ears in the theatre proper. I’ll assign Wilkie to watch the dressing-room area.”

“Even if we manage to fool the traitors inta believin’ you’re Merriwether, how’re you gonna know where an’ when they’ll get a message to you about a round-a-view ?”

“That’s the Achilles’ heel of my plan, I’m afraid. But the rebels or whoever they are know the guns are here in Toronto, and they believe for now that Merriwether is alive and waiting for the second message: they’ll deliver it all right. I’ve just got to be alert enough to recognize it when it comes.”

“You gonna take that report up to the governor?”

“Yes, but I’m going to see Rick first. There has to be some detail he’s forgotten: I’ve got to try and help him recall it.”

“I better come with ya.”

They slipped out the back entrance to Frank’s quarters into the alley there.

“You don’t haveta come to supper, ya know,” Cobb said. “You got more’n enough on yer plate as it is.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Set back from King Street among the autumn vermilion and gold of maple trees and with its cozy gables, its homely chimney-pots and rambling verandahs, Government House looked more like the estate of a country squire dozing in the Dorset sun than it did the seat of power and nerve-centre of a troubled British colony. The duty-corporal recognized Marc and led him and Cobb into the foyer.

“Where are they keeping Hilliard?” Marc asked.

“In the old pantry at the back, sir,” the corporal replied, then added in a lower voice, “but it ain’t locked.”

“Good. Cobb, would you mind waiting here with the corporal? When I’m finished with Rick, I’d like you to accompany me when I present this report to the governor. Your corroboration will be helpful.”

“I c’n manage the ‘helpful’ part,” Cobb said, and the corporal smiled.

It was now about eleven o’clock. Before leaving the theatre, Marc had gone upstairs with Cobb and reviewed with each of the actors a written summary of the testimony they had made to him during the interviews on Tuesday morning. He then had each sign the document, with Cobb as witness. Marc knew he wasn’t a surrogate justice of the peace, but he needed the semblance of notarized legality if he were to lay out for Sir Francis the apparent scenario of the murder and then point out the anomalies, such as they were. (Thea had been resting and so was excused, but since Cobb had been present during both interviews with her, Marc was not concerned.) He had hoped to have linked Merriwether to the laudanum, but that was now a lost cause. Though the villain most likely had found or purloined it from his distraught mistress, there was no proof of this. Marc realized also that, distracted as he was by the gun-running business and the deteriorating situation in Quebec, Sir Francis would not give Rick Hilliard’s case his usual close attention. Rick would simply have to help himself.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Lieutenant Spooner had popped out of his office next to the governor’s and sprung to a quivering halt in front of Marc.

“I have a report to deliver to Sir Francis, after which we have details to work out regarding this evening.”

“Well, then, I will be happy to accept your report on behalf of the governor.”

“I must hand it to Sir Francis in person, Lieutenant. There are additional explanations and comments that are necessary to his full understanding of the situation.”

“Be that as it may, Lieutenant, you will not be able to see the governor today. He’s gone down to the Legislature for emergency meetings with the Executive and the Legislative Council. You have no choice but to give the report to me. Moreover, I have been placed in charge of tonight’s operation.”

Marc was not prepared for this. While he knew Sir Francis had never forgiven him for what he took to be a personal betrayal, he also knew that the governor liked to be informed directly of matters that concerned him and would, despite everything, be willing to accept Marc’s word in regard to statements of fact and reasoned judgements. “All right, then,” he said graciously, suppressing his rising anxiety, “I’ll give it to you just as soon as I have interviewed Ensign Hilliard. His testimony was given while he was in a state of exhaustion and not yet recovered from having been drugged. It would be unfair to him, and improper of me, not to have him corroborate my notes.”

“Oh, I don’t think anything as elaborate as that will be necessary,” Spooner said with a smug smile.

“Are you refusing me access to him?”

“No, you may see him anytime you like.” The smirk oozed and widened. “And you may put any gloss you wish upon the ensign’s actions; it won’t matter a fig.”