Constable Wilkie was excused. Marc had doneall he could. The presence of a small glove that might havebelonged to the slight man whom Gagnon had seen running away fromthe scene did point to the third party that Marc was at pains toestablish, as did Gagnon’s story, though it had been materiallyweakened by McBride’s redirect. Still, there was plenty to come.But not until the morning. Court was adjourned for the day.
***
Constable Cobb made his way to The Crooked Anchor.An urgent message had been sent to him at the police quarters thatItchy Quick wanted to see him right away. Cobb found him at hisfavourite table, looking famished.
“Hello, Itchy. Why the big hurry?” Cobb said,sitting down opposite him.
“I got some news.”
“Then spit it out. I’m a busy man.”
“I talk better on a full stomach,” Itchy saidcoyly.
“You want me to stand you a meal before youtell me somethin’ that may or may not be worth a dinner?”
“Oh, it’s worth a dinner. And you know youcan trust me, Mr. Cobb.”
“About as far as I could throw you – and thatain’t far.” Cobb said. “But if that’s what it takes, what the hell,I can always have you arrested fer loiterin’.”
Itchy blanched before he realized Cobb waskidding. “I’ll have liver and onions and a slab of apple pie,” hesaid, “washed down with an ale.”
The meal was ordered, and while they werewaiting, Cobb said, “This has to do with the Gagnon murder charge,I take it?”
“It does, in a way.”
“I don’t like the sound of that.”
“It’ll help Mr. Gagnon, I’m sure.”
“It better.”
Cobb sat silently and watched Itchy devourhis meal, like a starving boar. Itchy wiped the grease off his lipswith the back of his hand, took a last swig of ale, and lookedacross at Cobb.
“What I’m gonna tell ya – you gotta promiseme not to go chargin’ my informant with anythin’.”
“That depends on what he’s done,” Cobb said,wondering where this was going, if anywhere. “And who’s thisinformant anyways?”
“Pussy Cramden. A friend of mine.”
“Pussy! He just got out of prison fer breakand enter. He’s a second storey man.”
“So he is, and it was while he wasreconoitrin’ Rosewood that he come up with the information you needto know about.”
“Rosewood? Did he see the crime committed?See anybody runnin’ away from the scene?”
“Oh, no, he wasn’t around near the front ofthe house.”
“What did he see, then, while he was casin’the place fer a possible robbery?”
“He’s hidin’ out behind the house, fer two orthree days runnin’, to see who comes in and who goes out, like, atwhat times and so on. And when they lock the doors or leave awindow open – ”
“I don’t want to hear about Pussy’s criminaltechniques. Get to the point.”
“Yes, sir. Well, the night before Mrs.Cardiff-Jones is killed, Pussy is hidin’ in the bushes when hesees, about eleven o’clock, a man go up to the back door. Thefellow has a cape and hood, so Pussy can’t see who it is.”
“So what?” said Cobb, losing his patience.This certainly had little to do with the crime itself. He feltdisappointed, and annoyed at having stood Itchy his dinner.
“So when the door opens, in the moonlight, hesees Mrs. Cardiff-Jones in the doorway, dressed in a kimono.”
“I see,” said Cobb, growing interested. “Inher nightclothes?”
“Right. And what do you think? They kissed.Right there in the doorway.”
“But Pussy didn’t see who it was?”
“Not then. But he hung about, figurin’ hemight be seein’ somethin’ he could turn to his advantage – ”
“Like blackmail?”
“A nasty word, Mr. Cobb. A nasty word.”
“But?”
“But when the fella comes out an hour or solater, he’s got the hood off and the moon is full, and Pussy seeswho the guy is. He recognizes him.”
“Who was it? Spit it out!”
“Another ale?” Itchy said.
“Don’t push yer luck,” Cobb said.
“It was Cecil Denfield.”
Cobb whistled. “That’s worth two more ales,”he said. “And I’ll have one myself.”
***
It was about seven o’clock that evening when Cobbwent around to Briar Cottage with the news. He and Marc sat in theparlour smoking. Marc told Cobb about the afternoon in court.
“You did a good thing with the glove,” wasCobb’s comment.
“Yes. It suggests a third party,” Marc said.“And my whole defense will be based on potential persons who hadgood reason to be that third party.”
“I got some news that may help.”
“You have?”
“From my snitch, Itchy Quick. He saw CecilDenfield go into Rosewood the night before the murder, where he wasembraced by the lady of the house.”
“My word, that is interesting. We know thatLionel Trueman and Horace Macy were courting Mrs. Cardiff-Jones,but Denfield was actually her lover. She was quite a woman.”
“And him a married man,” Cobb saiddistastefully.
“What if Macy or Trueman found out? Theycould have been enraged. We know their passions ran high becausethey fought a duel. That kind of passion turns easily to rage. MyGod, but there’s a strong motive for throwing acid at the faithlesswoman who strung them along like slack puppets.”
“How can you use it?”
“I don’t know yet. But I’ll think of a way.The Crown is still presenting its case. I’ve got lots of time tothink about it.”
“I hope it helps.”
“So do I. We’ve had such a victory in theelection, it would be a shame to see all the goodwill we havegenerated in Quebec go down the drain if Gilles is convicted of acrime he didn’t commit by an English-speaking jury.”
“Well, there’s always tomorrow in court,”Cobb said helpfully.
“I’m looking forward to it,” Marc said.
ELEVEN
The trial resumed on Tuesday morning. The Crowncalled Lionel Trueman to the stand. He was sworn in and SheldonMcBride began his questioning.
“Mr. Trueman, did you attend this autumn’sCharity Ball?”
“Yes, sir.”
Trueman looked relaxed and confident in thewitness-box.
“And did you have occasion to observe Mrs.Cardiff-Jones dancing with the defendant, Mr. Gagnon?”
“I did.”
“Would you describe his behaviour towards thelady as friendly?”
“Milord,” Marc said, rising. “Crown isleading the witness.”
“The witness may answer yes or no to thequestion, Mr. Edwards.”
“I’d say they were very friendly,” Truemansaid.
“What did you actually see that would suggestthey were more than friendly?”
“Well, sir, Gagnon couldn’t take his eyes offher. And she kept smiling back at him.”
“Did they converse at all?”
“Well, there wasn’t much time during thedance, but I noticed that whenever they came near to each other,they would exchange remarks and smile.”
“And did this conversing continue after thedance had concluded?”
“It did. They went over to the drinks tableand continued to talk and smile at one another.”
“Then what happened?”
“Mrs. Cardiff-Jones stopped smiling. Sheseemed annoyed at the continued attention.”
“I see. She was getting weary of Mr. Gagnon’sblandishments?”
Marc started to rise, but sat down again.
“I’d say so,” said Trueman.
“And how did the defendant react?”
“He seemed annoyed. He turned and walkedaway.”
“His entreaties were rejected by thelady?”
“Milord,” said Marc, “ Mr. McBride is doingit again.”
“Don’t put words into the witness’s mouth,Mr. McBride,” said the judge.
“My apologies, Milord.”
McBride tuned back to Trueman. “No furtherquestions.”
“Mr. Edwards?”
Marc rose to his lectern. “Mr. Trueman, whenthe couple were in their set dancing, how far away were you?”
“I was on the other side of the room, abouttwenty paces away.”
“And you were able to see the couple smilingand making eye contact from that distance?”
“Yes, I was.”
“You say they kept their eyes on one another.Is that not usual in the dance?”