Macy glowered. “You’re not thinking I had anyreason to throw acid in her face? I thought you had arrested thekiller?”
“We have a suspect, sir, but he claims he sawa third party at Rosewood on the night of the incident, and I haveto make sure our case against the fellow has no holes in it.”
“Well, the lady was about to choose me, sir,and I was at home in my study reading in the early part of theevening.”
“Is there anyone who can confirm that,sir?”
“There is. My maid Gladys was in the nextroom the whole time. You can ask her.”
“Where do you live?”
Macy told him.
“Now, sir, you can help us in another way.We’re tryin’ to find a motive fer the arrested man, Mr. GillesGagnon. And it turns out, accordin’ to him, that they only metwhile dancin’ at the Charity Ball. You, sir, were at that ball,were you not?”
“I was there, yes. And this Gilles Gagnon wasone of the two Frenchman who came in about nine o’clock.”
“Yeah. He was with Mr. Lafontaine.”
“I saw them both.”
“Mr. Gagnon danced with Mrs. Cardiff-Jones,didn’t he?”
“I believe he did.”
“You’re sure he did, aren’t you, sir, becauseyou would’ve kept a close eye on yer lady.”
“Is that unreasonable?”
Cobb ignored the question. “Did Gagnon andthe lady talk while they were dancin’?”
Macy paused to think this over. “Yes, nowthat I think back on it, I’d say they had quite a little chat.”
“They were friendly?”
“Oh, I’d say more than friendly. The fellowwas smitten with her. I saw him make moon eyes at her. And when thedance was finished, he followed her to the drinks table andcontinued to talk at her.”
“But she didn’t return his talk?”
“No. She was a proper lady, Constable. Andshe was in love with me. She had done her duty as hostess, and sherebuffed him. He went scuttling back to his friends on the otherside of the room.”
Oh, oh, thought Cobb. He would have toinclude this remark in his report, and some fancy Crown prosecutormight construe it as a motive – slim as it was – for retaliation.That is, of course, if Macy were telling the truth. His accountdidn’t exactly jibe with Trueman’s, and he could be merely tryingto show that his lady was a loyal soul and not an incorrigibleflirt.
Cobb switched tactics. “I understand you’vegot quite a temper.”
Macy glowered again. “Don’t be impertinent,sir, or I shall have to complain to your superior.”
“You were charged with assault last spring,and I caught you duellin’ the other day.”
“You know I was charged with assault becauseyou were the arresting officer.”
“It was a fight over a woman, as Iremember.”
“Yes, it was. The blackguard I struck madeinsulting remarks about my fiancée.”
“Mrs. Cardiff-Jones?”
“Of course not. I was engaged at the time toMiss Constance Brown.”
“When did you break off that engagement?”
“A month or so ago. When I became seriousabout Delores.”
“How did Miss Brown take it?”
“I don’t see what business it is of yours,but the end of our engagement was amicable. Naturally Miss Brownwas disappointed.”
“Where does Miss Brown live?”
“Surely you’re not going to bother her?”
“Only if I have to.”
“Very well, then, if it’ll satisfy you.” Macymentioned a house on Berkeley Street where Constance Brown boarded.It had occurred to Cobb that Miss Brown may have been very upset atthe broken engagement and might have decided to blame the otherwoman. It was worth checking out.
“And since you’re insistent on talking witheveryone even remotely involved with Delores,” Macy said, fiddlingwith his scales, “you shouldn’t overlook Cecil Denfield.”
“Why is that?”
“Denfield was one of Delores’s dancepartners, and I thought he was cozying up to her in an outrageousway, considering he’s a married man.”
What was obvious to Cobb was that Macy hadkept a very close watch on his lady friend, and that, readingbetween the lines, she was quite a coquette. Could one of her malefriends – besotted with her or her money – have taken rejectionbadly and decided to try out a little revenge, which had resultedin her death? It could have been Macy or Trueman, or even thisDenfield fellow.
Cobb now pulled out the glove. Macy objectedto trying it on, but eventually relented. It fit perfectly.
“But it’s not my glove,” Macy protested.“I’ve never seen it before. Half the men in town have a hand mysize.”
“Right you are, sir. Just tidyin’ up looseends.”
Cobb thanked Macy for his cooperation andleft the shop. He went immediately to Macy’s house and rapped onthe door. A pretty maid in a white cap and apron opened it.
“Good afternoon, sir. How may I helpyou?”
No snooty butler here, was Cobb’sthought.
He introduced himself and said, “Would youhappen to be Gladys?”
The girl swallowed and said, “How did youknow that, sir?”
“I’ve just been speaking with your master athis shop. I’m a policeman investigatin’ a murder – ”
“The one two night’s ago? Mr. Cardiff’sdaughter?”
“That’s the one.”
“How can I help you?”
“I had to ask Mr. Macy where he was thatevenin’ between seven and eight o’clock, and he said he was in hisstudy readin’. He also said that you were in the next room all thetime. Is that so?”
Gladys blushed to the roots of her red hair.“Well, I was in the next room, doin’ some mendin’. But I’m afraid,sir, that I dozed off. You won’t tell the master, I hope.”
“There’ll be no need fer that,” Cobb saidsoothingly. “So you’re sayin’ you were asleep between seven andeight o’clock?”
The blush deepened. “I dozed off about sevenand was woken up by the clock striking nine. Mr. Macy was in hisstudy then.”
“But you don’t know fer sure if he was therebetween seven and eight?”
“No, sir. I’m sorry. I don’t.”
Cobb thanked her, reassured her he would keepher secret, and left. So, he thought, Macy as well as Trueman hadno alibi for the time of the murder. The glove could have belongedto either of them. And one or the other of them could have thrownthat acid out of frustration at the lady’s faithlessness.
Cobb decided to go straight to interviewCecil Denfield, though he considered the married man to be less ofa suspect than the other two suitors. Still, Denfield was at thedance, and had danced with Delores. He could also have observedGagnon and Delores dancing, and could therefore prove a usefulwitness, if nothing else. Denfield ran an import-export businesswith a warehouse on Wellington Street east, but Cobb thought hewould try the fellow at home first.
He used the bell-pull and waited.
A butler with slicked-down hair parted in themiddle answered the door. He looked down on Cobb as if from a greatheight.
“Yes?”
“I’m Detective-Inspector Cobb. I’d like totalk to Mr. Denfield.”
“A policeman?”
“That’s right, and I’m here on policebusiness.”
“I’ll check with the master. Please wait onthe stoop.”
As the butler turned to walk down the halloff the foyer, Cobb stepped inside and closed the door. He sat downon a bench nearby and waited.
The butler returned and bade Cobb follow him.Cobb was led to a den that was overheated and stuffy. Denfield, abald man with sleazy eyes and the beginnings of a paunch, stoodbefore the fireplace in his shirtsleeves.
“You are a policeman, sir?” Denfield saidwith a slightly imperious air.
“A plainclothes detective. I’m investigatin’the death of Delores Cardiff-Jones.”
“Ah, such a shame, that. I was shocked tohear of it. But I understood you had a culprit in custody.”
“We have, sir. I’m gatherin’ evidence fer thetrial.”
“I see. How can I help?”
“You were at the Charity Ball?”
“I was.”
At this point the door opened and a brisklittle woman with ringlets and an overly large nose entered theroom.
“Oh, I didn’t realize you had company,Cecil.”