“Did Gagnon get away?”
“The last I saw of them they were leaving themob behind down King Street. I assume they made their escape. Ibeen told the mob broke up and scattered. But Wilkie recognized acouple of them. We’ll pay them a call today and see that they cooltheir tempers in our cell.”
“I wish I’d’ve been there,” Cobb said.
“I’m glad you’re here now because I’ve gotsomething to discuss with you.” Then he added in a tone that madeGussie French stop scribbling and look up, “In my office.”
Once inside and seated, the Chief said, “Igot a visit late yesterday from a Miss Constance Brown.”
“Oh . . .” said Cobb, his throattightening.
“You’ve been at it again!”
“I interviewed her, that’s all.”
“You accused her of killing Mrs.Cardiff-Jones!”
“I only asked her where she was when thecrime was committed. She had no alibi.”
“She doesn’t need an alibi! Theculprit has been charged and will go on trial next Monday!”
“Gagnon claims there was a third party at thescene. I was just checkin’ to see who might’ve been there with astrong motive.”
“Good God, man, why would Constance Brownwant to kill the lady?”
“Mrs. Cardiff-Jones took her fiancé away fromher. She was furious.”
“But Gagnon claims he saw a manrunning off.”
“He could’ve been mistaken. I was neardark.”
“But we have the killer. I sent youout to find a motive, and you go looking for any motive except theone I asked for.”
“That’s just it, sir. Gagnon has nomotive.”
“He must have. He killed her. We’ve got aconstable as our witness. What more do you want?”
“A proper motive.”
“Well, that’s for the Crown prosecutor toworry about. Not us. We’ve done our duty.”
“But a smart lawyer will get Gagnon off.”
“I doubt even Marc Edwards can get aroundWilkie’s testimony. Anyway, I’m ordering you to stop investigating.Now. The case is complete. It’s in the hands of the courts. And ifyou continue to poke about, I’ll put you back to patrolling. Andyou’ll have the night-shift from now till kingdom come. Is thatunderstood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You may go. There’s a gentleman on SimcoeStreet who claims he is being blackmailed. I have the name andaddress here. Get on it right away.”
“Yes, sir.”
Cobb took the paper and left the office. Hewasn’t too disturbed by the Chief’s order for he had done all hecould to help Marc Edwards defend what he himself took to be aninnocent man. The only iron that was left in the fire was ItchyQuick, his snitch.
And that was a long shot.
***
For the next five days Marc spent mornings andafternoons pounding up and down the township roads in a effort toget the Reform vote out. It was not easy. Many of the farmersfeared the intimidation tactics executed by D’Arcy Rutherford andsanctioned by Humphrey Cardiff. Marc offered to act as guide andescort, an offer that was taken up by half a dozen voters. Stillothers declined to vote, citing the case of Gilles Gagnon: if LouisLaFontaine’s lieutenant was a murderer, then what kind of peoplewere these Quebecers? What did it say about Louis’ judgement? WhileRobert Baldwin’s championing of the French leader was persuasive inand of itself, it was not enough for some of the potential Reformsupporters. On Saturday, the final day of voting, the count stoodeven at two hundred and sixty votes for each candidate. Marc andothers were desperately combing the countryside for the votes thatwould give Louis the victory longed for by Baldwin’s Reformers.
Unbeknownst to Marc and his associates, threesuch voters were, just before noon, arranging to go to the poll, aten-mile journey from their farms. Their names were Seth Green,Calvin Powell and Arnold Crow. They lived side by side, and hadjust helped each other clear their fields of corn. It was Green whopersuaded his neighbours they had a duty to vote. The method oftransportation they chose was Green’s hay wagon, drawn by his pairof Percherons, a slow but reliable means of getting to Danby’sCrossing. As there was room for only one man on the driver’s box,the other two had to content themselves with sitting in the back ofthe wagon, with only some potato sacking between them and theterrific jouncing they had to suffer as they made their way downthe concession line towards Yonge Street. Green, however, was asfair as he was friendly, and kindly offered to let Powell and Crowtake turns in the driver’s seat. They arrived at Yonge Streetwithout incident and turned southward. It was hot in the noondaysun, and when they came to Murphy’s Tavern, Green suggested theystop for a draught of ale to quench their thirst. His suggestionwas taken up happily by the other two.
They entered the tavern to discover it washalf full of customers, even so early in the day. The clink oftankards and glasses and the whorls of wafted smoke met them headon.
“Looks like a lively spot,” Crow said.
“Murphy serves a good ale,” Powell said.
They bellied up to the bar and ordered aflagon apiece.
“There’s an empty table over there by thepiano,” Green said, and the three farmers headed over to it.
“Down the hatch!” Powell said, tipping hisflagon to his lips.
The men drank thirstily.
“How about one more?” Crow said.
“The poll doesn’t close until sixo’clock.”
“Splendid idea,” Green said.
“What do you think of this murder business?”Crow said after a while.
“A strange business all ‘round” Green said.“This Frenchman, Gagnon, comes to Toronto for two weeks and getshimself thrown in jail for killin’ the Attorney-General’s daughter.He must be crazy. That’s the only explanation.”
“I hear he claims he’s innocent,” Powellsaid.
“He was caught with a vial of acid in hishand, standin’ over the dead body.” Crow said.
“Some innocence,” Green said.
“I don’t see how Louis LaFontaine could keepsuch a fellow close at hand.”
“And trust him,” Crow added.
“Frenchmen are not like us,” Powell said.“They do strange things for strange reasons.”
“But I trust Robert Baldwin,” Green said. “Ifhe says he needs Louis LaFontaine in Parliament, then I’m willin’to go along with him.”
At this point the three men took out theirclay pipes and lit them. They were puffing peacefully when astranger stepped up to their table and said, “Good afternoon. Myname’s D’Arcy Rutherford. Are you gents headed for the poll by anychance?”
“That we are,” said Green.
“I trust you’re going to vote Reform,”Rutherford said, smiling benignly.
“Never voted any other way,” Crow said.
“Would you let a fellow Reformer buy you anale?”
“Golly, we’ve had two already,” Crowsaid.
“You’ve got plenty of time. And in a whilethe day will cool off, and you’ll have a more comfortable run downto Danby’s Crossing.”
“That’s mighty kind of you, sir,” Green said.“We’d be pleased to join you in a round.”
“I’ll get the barkeep,” Rutherford said.
Rutherford ordered the round, and sat downwith the three farmers. They drank and talked politics for half anhour. The room grew smokier, hazier. Another round was ordered.
At this point Rutherford rose, shook handswith the trio, and left.
“Nice fellow,” said Green.
“I’m feeling no pain,” Powell said.
“We should really be going,” Crow said.
“Going where?”
The question came in the form of a femalevoice. The men looked up to see two women standing before them. Onewas a dusty blonde with a buxom figure partially exposed in heropen blouse. The other had curly locks assisted liberally by theapplication of henna. Both wore broad smiles. Even through thesmoke-haze, they were immensely attractive.
“You’re not in that much of a hurry, areyou?” said the blonde.
“We got to vote today,” Green said.
“But we just got here,” said henna-locks,“and we’re parched, aren’t we, Glenna?”