“An’ that was that?”
“Didn’t see him again till last night. I mustsay I wasn’t sorry to find him dead.”
“Thanks, ma’am. You’ve been a big help.” Cobbrose to go.
She smiled. “I’ll tell Tobias you’ll be backto see him at one.”
At the door Cobb turned back to her and said,“I just remembered somethin’. When I come in here to fetch yerhusband last night, he said he was too busy to help out.”
“He’s been in an ornery mood of late,” shesaid. “Worse than usual. And we were run off our feet withoutEtta.”
“Then he woulda been in this room allevenin’?”
“Most of it, yes. But just before I had to goupstairs at nine-twenty-five, I sent him to the cellar to get acase of wine – some bigwig captain come in and demanded it for hiscrew.”
“But he was back up here when you come downabout a quarter to ten?”
“As a matter of fact, he wasn’t.” She seemedsurprised at this sudden recollection. “He doesn’t keep thingsorderly in the cellar, so I guess he took some time finding thewine he was looking for.”
“I come in here about ten after ten, Ibelieve – ”
“About that. And Tobias came up a few minutesbefore that. That’s why he was running around like crazy. Nestorhadn’t been a lot of help up here.”
Interesting, Cobb thought. Budge had been inthe cellar for almost half an hour – the critical half-hour.
“I’ll talk to him about it later,” Cobb said,putting on his helmet and turning up the collar of hisgreatcoat.
“It’ll be the high point of his day,” saidGillian Budge.
***
Cobb walked around to the rear of The Sailor’s Armsin the crisp sunshine, taking the broad alleyway on the east sideof the building. He stood near the spot where Duggan had beenclubbed to death. The victim’s blood had soaked into the dirt, butthe stain was still visible. Cobb looked up, and in the daylight hesaw that the window in the wall above was clean and wide. Themoonlight that had shone across the lower half of the corpse lastnight upon his arrival would have spotlighted the two men as theyargued and grappled here about nine-forty-five. Someone up theremust have seen something.
What he hadn’t noticed last night was anarrow window at the base of the rear wall near the east corner. Hewent over to it now and crouched down. A shallow well allowed afoot-high window to be recessed into the brick foundation, givingsome natural illumination to a room below ground. Cobb peeredthrough its dusty pane. Blurry but readily distinguishable wasBudge’s wine-cellar. Tobias himself had been down there searchingfor a case of fancy booze about the time that Brodie said he struckDuggan on the cheek. Glancing to his right, Cobb spotted somethingequally interesting: a double-doored service bay, through which thetavern’s beer-barrels and wine-casks could be funnelled to thecellar. He went over, reached down, and tugged at one of thehandles. Locked, from the inside. Well, Cobb thought, here was avery convenient way for someone in the cellar to gain the alleywithout being observed. Yes, Tobias Budge would have to bequestioned vigorously. There was bad blood between him and Duggan,perhaps more than even his sharp-eyed wife knew about.
Humming to himself, Cobb went around thewestern corner of the building to inspect the door at the foot ofthe stairs, the exit-point of these tavern-shy gents. He gave thedoor a push. As he expected, it was barred. But anyone leaving bythis route, though he would have turned left and walked down thenarrow gap between the tavern and the building next door towardsFront Street, would surely have heard voices in the alley behind.If so, would he not have been curious enough to have a peek? Orwould he have panicked and dashed for the street?
Cobb himself walked out to Front Street. Hepulled out his pocket-watch. It was time to head up to Nestor’splace. He was not concerned about locating his long-time snitch.Whenever Nestor was frightened or upset (an almost dailyoccurrence), he headed straight for whatever hovel he occupied anddrank himself into a stupor. The main problem would be getting himconscious enough to talk straight. Certainly he was the only personwho might be able to provide the police with information about thismysterious blackmailing cousin.
***
Marc was waiting for him outside the chickenhatchery. Cobb took ten minutes to fill him in on his interviewwith Gillian Budge. While he occasionally scribbled notes – toplease the chief and his clerk – Cobb had a prodigious memory foranything he heard or saw. His children, Fabian and Delia, had thegift as well, memorizing great swatches of poetry and reciting itto him and Dora on long winter evenings.
“Well, Cobb, you’ve turned up a lot of usefulinformation in a short time. Surely we’ll be able to find onewitness out of that bunch to help Brodie’s cause.”
“I’m puttin’ my money on Budge theelder.”
“While I was at Robert’s, Horace Fullartonarrived. I had sent word to him on Brodie’s behalf. He wasextremely upset at the news, as you can imagine. He has alreadyvolunteered to act as a character witness, should Brodie becharged.”
“Did he see anythin’ last night?”
“He says not. But I couldn’t reallyinterrogate him in the middle of a political strategy meeting.”
“I see. Well, let’s give Nestor a friendlykick in the ribs an’ see if he knows more’n his own name.”
They approached the crumbling stone-cottage.No smoke curled out of its gap-toothed chimney. Cobb pushed thedoor open and stepped inside.
“Jesus, major. What a dump!”
Marc stepped up beside Cobb. The main roomwas a shambles, though it soon became clear that that was itscustomary, everyday condition. And the effect of the litter anddetritus was not improved by the murky, sallow light let in by theoil-paper window-panes. Two small, doorless chambers adjoined thebig one.
“Let’s wake the ugly bugger up,” Cobb said,not unkindly. He went into the nearest bedroom. “Ain’t in here,” hesaid. “This looks like Duggan’s room. It’s too tidy ferNestor.”
Marc was standing in the other doorway.“No-one’s in here either.”
“Damn. He must’ve gone out fer more booze.”Cobb kicked over an empty whiskey-jug beside the three-leggedkitchen table.
“I think he’s gone farther than that,” Marcsaid. “The commode has been emptied and the drawers tossed on thefloor.”
It was then that Cobb spied the sheet ofpaper on the table. He picked it up and stood close to the nearestwindow. “The bugger’s flown the coop,” he muttered. “Take a look atthis.”
Marc did so, and read:
Cob
I had to get out of towen. Yoo poleec wil
blame me for Berts deth. See he gets a
desent funeral
Yor frend
Nestor
“I know he’s frightened at what happened,” Marcsaid, “but I don’t believe he’ll have gone far.”
“I hope not. But what if Duggan really didhave money – like Nestor was tellin’ me last week? Maybe Nestorbeetled home last night, dug it out an’ took off fer Kingston orMontreal?”
“Well, let’s give this hovel a thoroughgoing-over,” Marc said. “There’re plenty of niches and mouse-holesfor hiding contraband in.”
“Good idea. And I see you brung thelantern.”
***
Twenty minutes later, soiled and disgusted, theyabandoned the search. Duggan, it seemed, fancied himself agentleman and had several coats and vests to be examined, butnothing useful was turned up. No cash was found anywhere. Oneenvelope had been retrieved from a drawer in Duggan’s commode, butthere was no letter inside.
“It’s addressed to Albert Duggan,Ass-choir of Toronto,” Cobb snarled. “Somebody outta townknew he was here, eh?”
“Let me have a closer look,” Marc said.
“Nothing inside, major.”
“Not a letter, no. But see, here, how theflap has been cut after the seal was broken?”
“What about it?”