Was the man actually enjoying this game?
“That possibility was anticipated and forestalled.”
“Indeed. Sure you won’t have a cigar? Or a chair?”
“Because of that necessity the whole scheme went awry.” Marc found himself pacing back and forth across the room like a Crown counsel, feeling just a bit foolish as he fired his barbs both obliquely and directly at the witness in his baize box.
“It did?”
“I suggest, sir, that you paid Michael Badger, a former employee who subsequently worked as a bruiser in Madame Renée’s brothel, to sneak into the house in the middle of the night and create some kind of disturbance, something that would be certain to expose young Ellice publicly by involving the police.”
“How very clever.”
“Too clever by half, however. For what you didn’t know was that Badger bore a grudge against the madam and her business, and in a sudden rage stabbed the prostitute to death and fled.”
That remark got the banker’s full attention. He removed the cigar from his lips and watched it slowly descend in his fingers to the table. “Ellice was found beside the murdered girl?”
“You know damn well he was!” Marc stopped and leaned on the baize cover with both hands. “You’ve already admitted knowing about the stabbing of Sarah McConkey, and since it was you who led Ellice to her, how could you not connect the two events?”
Hepburn looked genuinely shocked. Marc was pleased that he had finally pricked that maddening façade. “But Matilda only told me that some harlot had been stabbed in Irishtown. Even the rumour mill has been starved for details.”
“Well, sir, now you know. Your conniving plot to embarrass Lord Durham resulted in the vicious murder of an innocent girl, however fallen we may think she was. You paid the assassin to enter the premises. You seduced the young man and led him to that door. In my book that makes you an accessory to murder. You are as guilty as Badger. What is more, I think you’ve known since Tuesday morning exactly what must have happened.”
“You’re certain it was Ellice there?”
Marc suddenly realized that Ellice’s secret was now out. But then if the killers were not exposed by eight o’clock, all would be lost anyway. He plunged ahead. “There is more.”
“How could there be?”
“We found Michael Badger’s body an hour ago in a ditch at the end of Jarvis Street-where you left it after shooting him point-blank in the heart.” While Marc didn’t believe this, he felt justified in using it for its shock value.
Hepburn’s jaw dropped. “Now, young man, this has gone far enough. I’ve humoured you because I’ve nothing better to do with the remainder of the afternoon. But Michael Badger was an employee of mine, and my housekeeper’s only brother. In fact, he was like a son to me-Matilda and I have no children of our own-and I am shocked and grieved to hear of his death. I thought he had got safely out of town and away from his creditors.” He started to get up. “I must tell Mrs. Hepburn immediately. Does Una know?”
“Yes. She’s at the Court House now. But I must, as a deputized constable, ask you to sit down until my interrogation is completed.”
“But your accusations are preposterous! You’ve spun a fantastical tale that would be more pertinent to The Mysteries of Udolpho than to Toronto. You haven’t offered a shred of proof-”
“Ah, but I have the proof, sir. Hard-and-fast evidence that you did lead Ellice to the murder scene and did hire Badger to invade the premises. That should be enough to get an indictment from the magistrate.”
“I don’t believe you.” Hepburn glared at his accuser but stayed in his seat.
“First of all, we have testimony from your stable hand and barouche driver that you did have a third party in your carriage, one fitting the description of Ellice.”
“But I know for a fact that Willy Falmer did not give Constable Cobb that version of events.”
“True, at least not yesterday. I’m sure that out of loyalty or other more tangible considerations he backed up Mrs. Hepburn’s version, but he has since changed his mind.”
Marc hoped this lie would be sufficient to unnerve the suspect. Instead, Hepburn smiled tightly and stared hard at Marc. “That is not possible, sir. Willy Falmer left town at dawn this morning. He is on his way to join his brothers somewhere beyond the Mississippi River.”
Good God, the man was more cunning than Marc had anticipated. It was time to play his second trump card. He drew out the note he had plucked from Badger’s pocket. “I have here, sir, all the proof I shall need to link you to the paid assassin. This note, foolishly signed by you, was found on Badger’s body, along with a stolen key to facilitate his entry into the brothel.” Marc dropped the letter on the table and Hepburn glanced at it, looking puzzled.
“This is my letter to Michael,” he said. “And?”
“And it accompanied thirty dollars, also found on Badger, the money he earned by entering the brothel and stabbing a girl to death. Mr. Hepburn, you have a clear motive for leading Ellice there, and here is incontrovertible proof that you hired a bruiser to cause some kind of mayhem that night.”
Hepburn paused to gather his emotions and his thoughts. He stubbed out the cigar. He flushed and then paled. Beads of sweat popped out on his forehead. “This is all too much. I am overwhelmed.”
“Do you wish to confess, then?’
Hepburn smiled wanly. “I’m afraid not.”
“But you’ve just admitted that the incriminating letter is your own!”
“It is. But the money was Michael’s, not mine.”
“Surely you can come up with a more plausible explanation than that.”
“It’s true. You see, sir, Michael was in many ways a good man, a sort of gentle giant. He was not in the least violent, though he knew how to intimidate if he had to. He was more of a conniver and would-be confidence man, a charmer of gullible ladies. I don’t believe for a second that he was capable of murdering anyone in cold blood. His principal weakness was gambling, and it looks as if it led to his death. He was a hard worker whenever he needed to earn money to feed his vice. I paid him well, and both his sister and I tried to get him to save money and straighten his ways. We were both upset when he went to work for Madame Renée.”
“I am not a fool, sir. I suspect you were quite happy with that particular employment when you began hatching your little plot.”
“Then in January he came to me and asked me to deposit his wages in my bank, wages from Madame Renée and from the odd jobs he was doing for me. The account was set up so that only I could withdraw the money or both of us in person. It was the only way he knew to stop himself from squandering his earnings in the dicing dens. If you wish proof of this arrangement, you’ll find all the relevant and notarized documents at the Commercial Bank.”
“But what else would he need savings for? He merely wrote worthless promissory notes and got himself into serious trouble at the Tinker’s Dam.”
“Incredible as it may seem, he was planning to go off to the Iowa Territory and try his luck at farming.”
“So you’re telling me that this note was in response to Badger’s written request for his own money.”
“I am. Una Badger brought me that request Tuesday at luncheon. I recognized Michael’s handwriting, as I’m sure Una did when she surreptitiously read it.”
The man was ingenious and abominable. His alternative explanation provided a foolproof cover story for the dastardly transaction that had resulted in Sarah’s death. “But you did not go back to the bank to get his money, did you?” Marc said, trying to hide his desperation.
“No, I didn’t. Una described how scared and distraught he had been that morning and begged me to help him immediately. According to our long-standing arrangement, I was to send him his money-in a dire emergency-by messenger to the post office on George Street, where he would pick it up. I assume he feared his pursuers would be watching this house. So I got the cash from my own safe here and had it delivered. I can give you the name of the lad who took it there.”