“A ruffian?”
“Hard to say. He was wearing a gentleman’scoat, I’m pretty sure, from the way it was flopping. And properboots, I’d say.”
“You didn’t see anythin’ else?”
“No. That was all. I just assumed it wassomeone in a hurry – nothing to do with me or the club.”
“An’ you went down the stairs and onto FrontStreet through the narrows at the side of the tavern?”
“I did. And took my usual route to theGovernment park.”
Cobb thanked Shuttleworth, who offered tosend along Andrew Dutton. While he was waiting, Cobb looked againat the time-line in his notebook. Brodie had bumped into Cobb onWellington Street about ten o’clock – the fact that he didn’t knowthe exact time was maddening – so Sir Peregrine saw either Brodieor the murderer running away. Duggan had certainly been dead whenCobb arrived on the scene shortly thereafter. Or else the baronetwas simply lying. If so, it could be because he himself was thekiller, having spotted the comatose Duggan in the alley andslipping out there after the others had left to bludgeon him todeath. But Shuttleworth didn’t know who Duggan was, and wasdefinitely too late to have witnessed the altercation and deducedfrom it the identity of the blackmailer (assuming, of course, hewas being blackmailed). On the other hand, maybeShuttleworth did know who Duggan was – he could have hung aroundhis drop-point as Brodie had – but had lacked the courage to dealwith him until last night. If so, the situation in the alley wastailor-made for a safe, secret kill.
Cobb’s head was still spinning with theseideas when Andrew Dutton entered the room and sat down where thebaronet had been.
Dutton was a distinguished-looking fellow,Cobb thought. He had a full head of grey hair that had bleachedevenly with age. With his trimmed goatee, well-cut clothes andcompact build (no pot-belly here), Cobb could see how he might haveattracted two wives. As a barrister he had never been consideredmore than competent, but his father had been a successful member ofthe ruling Family Compact and had made sure his son prospered fromthat association. Now, though, there was more of a hangdogexpression in his face than the settled satisfaction one might haveexpected in a comfortably retired worthy. Having twice been made awidower may have taken its toll.
“How may I be of help, constable? BroderickLangford is a young man of sterling character, and I would stand upin any court and say so.”
“We need to know, sir, what you saw or heardwhen you left the meetin’ last night.”
“Right. The answer is, alas, brief. I was thefirst to leave, perhaps fifteen minutes after Brodie. I did lookout the window in the cloakroom but saw only the moonlight andthought about how pleasant my walk home might be.”
Cobb pressed Dutton further, but there wasnothing he could add. Dutton said how sorry he was, and left theroom.
Well, Cobb mused, if the fellow waslying – an unlikely event – he could have heard the very beginningof the altercation between Brodie and Duggan as he was descendingthe stairs, grown curious, and hid in the shadows near the alleyuntil the other gents passed by onto Front Street, then slipped outand used Brodie’s walking-stick on the blackmailer. And Dora mightget her girlish figure back!
Fullarton was next. He was eager to quiz Cobbabout Brodie’s situation, the concern clearly visible in his face,but Cobb gently reminded him that the best way to help his youngprotégé was to state exactly what he saw and heard as he wasleaving the clubroom.
Fullarton took a deep breath. “Right you are,constable. Well, as I was reaching for my cloak, I heard voicesraised in anger – coming from the alley below. I looked out and sawtwo figures grappling.”
Cobb stared at the banker. “But you told MarcEdwards this mornin’ that you saw nothin’ when you left themeetin’!”
Fullarton sighed, and looked down at thecarpet. “I am sorry about that. I told Mr. Edwards the truth – in away. I said I didn’t see anything that would help my young friend.I was upset and confused.”
“Then you better tell me the wholetruth. Right now. You seen two men grapplin’, you say. Was Brodieone of em?”
“That’s just the point, constable. I wasn’tsure. Their faces were not in the beam of moonlight, but for aninstant I thought one of the two might be Brodie. Then I thought:it couldn’t be because Brodie had left fifteen or twenty minutesbefore and would be halfway home by now. I assumed – and I havespent a sleepless night regretting it – that it was a pair ofdrunks brawling in the alley, a not-uncommon occurrence around thattavern. Had I gone back to assist the lad, none of this tragedymight have happened.”
“But you didn’t?”
“No. When I got to the bottom of the stairs,the voices had stopped or become inaudible. I just continued ondown to Front Street.” He stared down at the carpet again. When helooked up, he said, “But you don’t really believe Brodie Langfordcould kill a man?”
“It don’t matter what I believe, sir.Duggan was beaten to death with Brodie’s walkin’-stick.”
Fullarton paled. Marc Edwards had not givenhim this damning detail. “I see. But there must be some plausibleexplanation – ”
“I hope so.” Cobb felt his own voicebeginning to wobble. “Thank you, sir, for yer help.” He wanted tooffer Horace Fullarton some comfort, but knew that his duty lay inbeing calm and objective.
Fullarton slumped out.
Cobb did not have to reflect very long beforerealizing that, so far, he had not uncovered any evidence toexonerate Brodie. Dutton had seen nothing. Fullarton had heard thebeginning of the altercation, but was unable or unwilling toidentify Brodie as one of the participants (though Brodie himselfhad already done so in his ill-considered “confession”).Shuttleworth had seen someone (possibly the killer) running away upthe alley. What they needed was a witness who had seen Brodie punchDuggan once and immediately take flight, without his cane. CyrusCrenshaw was the last hope.
Crenshaw was not terribly forthcoming. Heappeared to resent Cobb’s intrusion into their gentlemanlyfrivolities. But, then, Brodie Langford was hardly known to him,and as a Legislative Councillor and self-appointed Tory, he mayhave felt little sympathy for the Yankee émigré and former ward ofthe much-maligned Richard Dougherty.
“You left the meetin’ shortly after a quarterto ten?” Cobb began.
“I don’t keep track of the time, sir.But I suspect my fellow club-members have already supplied you withsuch details.”
“So you don’t really know?”
Crenshaw grimaced, but said nothing.
“Did you look out the window when you wentfer yer coat?”
“Yes, I did.”
“What did you see?”
“An alley, lit up by moonlight.”
“Anythin’ else?”
“As a matter of fact, yes.”
Cobb was losing patience. “I want ya to tellme, Mr. Crenshaw, what you seen an’ heard there. Mr. Langford’slife may depend on what you have to say.”
This stern reminder had an immediate effect.“I’m sorry, constable. I’ve been distracted all evening. But I seenow the seriousness of your questions. Still, I’m afraid what Ihave to tell you may do Langford more harm than good.”
Which might explain his initial reluctance,Cobb thought. He braced himself.
“I saw two men in the alley. It was too darkto see their faces. One was lying on the ground and the other wascrouched over him.”
“Doin’ what?”
“My impression was that there might have beena punch-up between them – two fellows from the tavern with too muchdrink in them. But the crouching one seemed concerned, the way hishands were moving gently over the other one, who was knocked out, Ibelieve.”
“You didn’t think to go out an’ help?”
“Not really. I’m a respectable citizen andmember of Her Majesty’s colonial parliament. I do not go intoalleys where brawls are taking place.” His whole bodystiffened.
Cobb was neither surprised nor shocked. Itwas exactly the sort of behaviour he expected from the gentleclasses and their hangers-on.