“But I could not swear – and would not – thatBrodie Langford was one of the men down there,” he said, as if toundercut the callousness of his previous remark.
That wouldn’t matter, Cobb sighed to himself.Brodie’s own statement not only put him there, it placed him in acrouching position over Duggan, whom he had just punched.
“You didn’t see the fella run away,then?”
“No. He was still hunched over the fallen manwhen I headed for the stairs and carried on out to FrontStreet.”
That was not what Cobb hoped to hear. “Thankyou, sir. That’s all,” he heard himself say.
Crenshaw left quickly. Cobb sat for severalminutes in a near stupor. He had failed to uncover the single pieceof evidence he needed to get Brodie released. No-one had seen thelad strike once with his fist and leave. Cobb could not bringhimself to reassemble the pieces he had turned up. He’d letMarc do that depressing work later.
By the time Cobb re-entered the “theatre” theShakespeareans had gathered once more around the long table. Theywere studying their scripts, or pretending to.
“Constable,” Sir Peregrine said heartily fromhis position at head of table, “we are about to start a secondread-through of our playlet. If you wish, you’re welcome to have acup of tea and a pastry in the dining-room. You must have had along day.”
What the hell, Cobb thought: I’m thirsty andhungry. He nodded his thanks to the baronet, tipped his helmet atthe ladies, and walked slowly into the dining-room. He sat down atthe table, where he was plainly visible to Sir Peregrine, andpicked out an apple tart. A smartly dressed servant arrived to pourhim a cup of tea. The rich were certainly experts in pamperingthemselves.
Sir Peregrine leaned forward, and his troupereadied themselves for any directive aimed their way. But hesurprised them by saying, more to Lady Mad at his side than to theothers, “I believe we have solved the matter of who to cast asBottom.”
Lady Mad’s startlement spoke for them all.“Whatever do you mean, Perry?” she said. Then she followed hisgaze, swallowed hard, and looked back at her husband indisbelief.
“Well, just look at him. That red nose wouldilluminate a pantry. And that exquisitely ugly face! He’s a naturalBardolph or Dogberry. And what a belly! It looks as if he’s wrappeda bolster ‘round his middle. All we’d have to do is pad out thebuttocks – pardon my French, ladies.”
By now everyone realized who the object ofhis attention was, and as one they craned around to stare at Cobb,who was bent over sipping his tea – unaware of their interest, andastonishment.
Lady Mad, who was no doubt picturing herselfdoing a love duet with the eccentrically shaped policeman, said,when she had located her voice, “But you don’t even know if he canread, and I’m sure he can’t act.”
“And he’s – he’s a common fellow,” ClemmyCrenshaw bleated, nicely forgetting her own humble origins. “Ithought our play was meant for proper ladies and gentlemen.”
Murmurs of assent moved up and down thetable.
“Ah, but I know a great deal more aboutHoratio Cobb than any of you might imagine,” smirked the presidingbaronet. “You see, my niece Lizzie here attends Miss Tyson’sAcademy, which, incredibly, Constable Cobb’s daughter Delia alsoattends. Lizzie, being an overly kind girl, has befriended MissCobb, who, sad to say, does a fair amount of boasting about herfamily and their meagre triumphs.”
Lizzie blushed on cue and nodded her head insupport of her uncle’s claims.
“Mr. Cobb not only resembles one of theBard’s mechanics, he was raised by a father who worshipped theGreat Man and encouraged his two sons to do the same – going so faras to name them after Shakespearean characters. Delia and herbrother recite and perform at home, I’m told, and their papa hasbeen known to join them. And if this fellow can read and memorize,I can teach him to act!”
Lady Mad, who was vaguely aware of thesefacts but had failed to associate them with the Bardolphian figuremunching through his third tart in her dining-room, said with anambiguous smile, “Well, then, Perry, go ahead and ask him. Perhapswe’ll find out if there’s anything really worthwhile under thathandsome uniform.”
Sir Peregrine stood up and motioned for Cobbto come back into the theatre.
***
Clementine Crenshaw was sitting in her nightdress onthe extreme edge of her canopied bed. “I seen you gawkin’ at LadyMadeleine, don’t think I didn’t,” she said to her husband, who wasnear the door and looking as if he were about to bolt. “You wentan’ spoilt a perfectly wonderful evenin’.”
Cyrus sighed, and came over to sit besideher. He was fully dressed except for his loosened tie and anabsence of boots. She turned her back on him, but he reached upanyway and laid a hand on her slumped shoulder.
“Everybody was starin’ at the lady, sweet.She wished to be stared at, and it would have been impolite not tohave done so.”
Clemmy choked back a sob. “But she was sobeautiful an’ she made me – ”
“Now don’t go gettin’ yourself all worked up.You know what happens to your nerves.”
“It ain’t my nerves that’s hurt!” shesnapped. All the heart had gone out of her ringlettes, which nowdrooped wherever they pleased. She had made a desultory attempt toremove her makeup, leaving her face streaked and blotched. Herlarge eyes were glazed with tears – and something else.
“If I’d’ve known this play was goin’ to upsetyou so – ”
“I ain’t upset! I’m not! We belongwith them people, I know we do. But when I seen Lady Madeleine bather lashes at you, an’ you – ” She couldn’t finish: a full-blownsob had arrived, and overwhelmed.
Cyrus put both arms around her. “Of course webelong, of course we do. We’ve worked hard to get where we are, mysweet. And we’ve always done it together. And we’ll keep on doin’it together. That’s a promise.” These words were crooned intoClemmy’s ear like a mantra or healing prayer. He rocked her slowly,and felt her body begin to relax.
“Yeah, we’ve worked hard, ain’t we?” she saidin a voice low and slurred.
“I’ll get you some more of your medicinenow,” he said, releasing her cautiously. She sank back onto thenearest pillow. He tried not to look at her splotched face, thedefeated tresses, and the sagging weight of her flesh beneath thenightdress. At her vanity, he found the stoppered bottle he wasseeking and opened it. It was half empty. It had been full, he wassure, before they had left for Oakwood Manor.
“Bring it to me, luv, please,” she murmured,stretching out one hand with a supreme effort. When he reached her,she seized the bottle, held it up to her lips and drank itscontents down.
“I’ll leave you now,” he said, leaning overand kissing her on the forehead.
“Yes, yes,” she breathed, and lay back uponthe bed. “We worked damn hard, didn’t we? Nobody thought we’d makeit, but we did, didn’t we?” Her words began to run into one anotherand she was no longer sure she was speaking them aloud. “My daddywas a bootlegger, but we showed ‘em, didn’t we, luv? And after thatawful thing your papa did down there in the war, who would’veguessed – ”
But Cyrus Crenshaw, self-made man, hadalready left the room and closed the door behind him.
TEN
After leaving Oakwood Manor, Cobb walked straightdown to Briar Cottage. He had already arranged for Gussie French tocome into the office early in the morning to prepare his account ofthe witness-statements for the magistrate, but he wanted Marc to goover them first, not with a view to altering them but rather toafford Brodie’s lawyer the opportunity to develop some kind ofuseful argument when they all met at the Court House at teno’clock. Marc was waiting for him, Beth and Maggie having gone tobed. Charlene was next door, sitting with Etta Hogg, who wasrunning a high fever and required constant watching. The cottagewas eerily quiet.