“Poor you,” Cobb said. “You never figuredthis skunk was bang-boozlin’ you?”
“When did you become suspicious of what hewas really up to?” Marc said.
“Well, he kept on pumpin’ me fer informationon certain people in town he was interested in. He said he had bigplans fer us to start a business with his legacy, an’ we needed tocultivate the right sorta folks. Albert, he could talk the earsoffa mule.”
“Which folks, for example?”
“Well, one night when we was well inta ourcups, we got to gabbin’ about the rich bitches an’ how they wasalways pretendin’ to be so good an’ proper, an’ before I know it,I’m talkin’ about the English lord who just moved here an’ how I’dheard a story from Itchy Quick about the shenanigans his wife gotup to. Itchy did some work fer the lord last summer, an’ spied thelady-lord in the petunia-patch doin’ what she shouldn’t, if ya knowwhat I mean.”
“We know what ya mean,” Cobb said.
“I didn’t plan on tellin’ him who thegentleman with her was, I ain’t inta that kind of gossip – ”
“Unless you can sell it to the police,” Cobbsaid.
“But he got it out of you anyway?” Marcsaid.
Nestor looked at Marc beseechingly. “God, butthat man had a way of wormin’ secrets outta me.”
“And this gentleman was Horace Fullarton, thebanker?” Marc said.
Nestor was startled, then wary. “You alreadyknow,” he said slowly.
“From our own sources,” Marc saidreassuringly. “Was there anyone else whose indiscretions you mayhave revealed to your cousin?”
“Well, Albert kept goin’ on about thislord-fella, an’ he got me good an’ drunk one night an’ I told him -though I don’t remember doin’ so – that I’d been in the newwhore-house in Irishtown deliverin’ some supplies fer the madam,an’ who should I spy there but his lordship.”
“Dressed as a woman,” Marc said.
“You got a crystal ball or somethin’?” Nestorsaid.
“Get on with it,” Cobb said, “or I’ll haveDora cut off yer ham an’ eggs.”
“Well, that is what I seen there. Icouldn’t believe my eyes. It was him alright. I’d seen him drivin’down King Street in his fancy buggy lots of times. But he had on alady’s dress and a wig an’ face-paint an’ slippers, an’ he wasdoin’ a jig an’ singin’ in a real high voice, like he’d beengelded.”
“But if you seen him an’ recognizedhim,” Cobb said, “lots of other people in that place would’ve,too?”
Nestor looked smug for a second – at thenaïveté of the question. “Nobody in a whore-house that caters togentlemen ever breathes a word of what goes on in there or who doeswhat to who.”
“So, your cousin had the goods on SirPeregrine and Horace Fullarton,” Marc said. “Did you never think toask what, if anything, he planned to do with this information?After all, it doesn’t sound like the sort of thing one would use toingratiate oneself with the rich and powerful. Moreover, you’veinsisted that he wormed it out of you.”
“I did begin to wonder. Especially when hegot to braggin’ one night that he’d dug up dirt on some otherpeople all by himself.”
“Did he say who?”
“Uh huh. He told me when he lived in Montrealhe had a lot of girl friends. One of ‘em was a maid to a Mrs.Ramsay.”
Marc and Cobb looked at each other, andbraced themselves.
“Albert said she told him in bed oneafternoon that Mrs. Ramsay had a baby girl that she was tellin’everybody was adopted from the country. But she knew fer a fact itwas a bastard child of Miss Ramsay, the sister-in-law, got with aFrench rebel who was killed in the war.”
Marc sighed. So, Duggan’s threat had beenreal after all. Servants always knew more than their mastersthought they did. But had Brodie known? If so, his motive for doingDuggan serious harm intensified. He hated the idea of having to askthe lad. But if Nestor did end up on the witness-stand, Marc had toknow every sordid bit of the truth.
“He said this maid also told him she’d seen aletter from Miss Ramsay, who was livin’ here in the city. In it shesaid she’d met a wonderful man, who was a banker an’ had a finehouse.”
“In other words, he was rich.”
“That’s what Albert said. He admitted he’dcome to Toronto hopin’ he might be able to use this secret to helphim start a new life.”
“He did, did he?” Cobb scoffed.
“But he didn’t tell me he was gonna shake himdown fer money! Honest!”
“Who else had he managed to set up forpossible extortion?” Marc said.
“Well, he spent a lot of time chattin’ peopleup in the pubs around town. An’ one day in September, he told melater, he’d met an old fella in The Crooked Anchor who’d been inthe militia an’ fought a long time ago in the war with the States.Albert got him good an’ drunk, an’ the fella got to reminiscin’about his glory days, an’ one of the tales he had to tell – ”
“Involved a certain Corporal Crenshaw who wasshot for cowardice,” Marc said, to Nestor’s amazement.
“Why are you askin’ me the questions?”he said.
“Just shut up an’ answer them,” Cobb said.“You ain’t outta the woods yet.”
“Well, it was about Cyrus Crenshaw’spapa, and I stupidly blabbed about who he was – runnin’ thecandle-factory an’ livin’ in a fancy brick house.”
“You got a healthy supply of stupidity,” Cobbsaid.
“We have reason to believe that your cousinwas also blackmailing Andrew Dutton, the retired lawyer. Did Alberthave anything on him?”
“Oh, that. Well, one day Albert come home allexcited, sayin’ he’d just found out that that fella was livin’ herein town. I asked him why that made him so happy, an’ he said hisjob in Montreal was workin’ in the asylum there – the place wherethey keep the worst of the loonies. One day, he said, a lady whowas as mad as a hatter got sick an’ died. An’ Albert bein’ Alberthad got himself a key to the files, which he said he liked to readfer his amusement – ”
“Jesus, Nestor, ain’t you got one brain torattle around in that empty skull of yers?” Cobb said with muchdisgust.
Nestor ignored the insult. “Anyways, he knewthis old lady’s name was Mrs. Felicity Dutton an’ the file saidshe’d been put in the asylum by her husband, Andrew Dutton, a whileback, but nobody knew where he’d got to.”
“Until Duggan found him here and checked himout,” Marc said. “I’ll bet he was more than excited when he learnedAndrew Dutton was alive and well in Toronto – and had married asecond time. Making him a bigamist.”
“Jesus,” Cobb said, “is there no end to allthis?”
“There’s Tobias Budge,” Marc said.
“I don’t know anythin’ about Mr. Budge!”Nestor cried, blinking fiercely at the obvious lie. “He’s been realgood to me, givin’ me a job when nobody else would. And if I everdid know anythin’ bad about him, which I don’t, I’d never tell -”
“It’s all right, Nestor,” Marc soothed. “Itdoesn’t matter. From what we already know about Albert and theBudges, your cousin most likely found out what he needed to knowwithout your help.”
Nestor choked back a sob. “But I ain’t gotthat job no more, have I?”
Cobb wanted to say something sharp aboutcowards running away to the bush, but he couldn’t bring himself todo so. What he did say was, “So yer so-called cousin had the goodson half a dozen honest citizens an’ you never guessed he was in theblackmailin’ business?”
“Not until the night before he got himselfkilled,” Nestor said.
“He told you then what he was up to?’ Marcsaid.
Nestor nodded, sniffled and said, “We wassittin’ in the cottage drinkin’, an’ Albert starts braggin’ abouthow we’re soon gonna be rich as Creases. When I laugh, thinkin’it’s a joke, he gets real mad. He stomps inta his room an’ comesout with a piece of paper in his paw, wavin’ it in front of myface. ‘It’s easy as pokin’ a hooer,’ he says. ‘I just send ‘em anote like this, tell ‘em where to leave the money, then I sneak upan’ grab it. The poor slobs’ve got no idea who’s fleecin’‘em!’”