The Bishop's Pawn (28 page)

“That was me, too. But nothin’ seemed to
satisfy the woman. She said if I wanted the verger’s job I had to
keep on with it.”

“An’ this was to be the
last
time, I
take it?”

“She promised. She said the real scoundrel
was gonna be ‘exposed’ an’ the bishop would be awful happy about
it.”

At this point, Cobb’s eye caught something
shiny on the floor beside Nestor’s foot. He bent down. “What’s
this?”

Nestor gave Cobb a sheepish grin. He was
still not sure what sort of ground he was standing on, as Cobb’s
expression had given nothing away. “She told me I had to leave that
thing beside the box.”

“That thing” was a silver locket. Cobb knew
that if he opened it, he would see David Chalmers’ sister staring
up at him. He shuddered. Fantastic as it seemed, Nestor Peck was
telling him something very close to the truth, and it was as ugly
as it could be. He slipped the locket into his coat pocket.

“What’re ya gonna do?” Nestor said, starting
to quake just a little.

Before Cobb could reply, they were
interrupted by a loud and imperious voice at the other end of the
nave.

“What in Heaven’s name is going on here?”

Constance Hungerford came storming up the
aisle and into the pool of moonlight like a force of Nature. She
had a florid dressing-robe wrapped ineffectually around her body’s
aggressive angles, and metal curlers shook in the thickets of her
hair like Medusa’s locks. She strode right up to Cobb, stopped with
the precision of a drill sergeant, and skewered him with a keen,
appraising, unblinking stare. Cobb stood his ground, thinking it
best to let surprise have its way with her.

Slowly, some sort of understanding
registered, and Constance said, “It’s you, is it, Cobb? Sneaking
about like a thief in order to catch one?”

“I believe, madam, that it was you that
wanted the thief caught.”

“Don’t be impertinent, sir.” She swivelled
and glanced once at Nestor. “However unsavoury your methods – and
the racket in here might have wakened the dead! – it’s evident you
have the felon in hand. My God, he looks as if he’s just crawled
out of a sewer!”

Nestor was trembling again, all over, and
looking at Cobb with a desperate pleading in his bruised eyes. It
was clear that he was incapable of accusing Constance Hungerford to
her face.

“I did catch this fella with his paw on the
cheese, ma’am. An’ he’s confessed to bein’ in here twice
before.”

“Then do your duty. He’s stinking up my
husband’s church!”

“Well, ma’am, I intend to do just that but,
you see, he’s been tellin’ me a strange tale of how he was
purr-suaded
inta robbin’ the Poor Box by a lady that lives
right here in the vicar – ”

Constance gave Nestor a cuff on the side of
the head, and he yelped at the shock of it. “I had to tell the
truth,” he wailed. “Cobb
made
me!”

“Shut up, Nestor,” Cobb said.

Constance stared at Cobb with a look that
combined hauteur, malice and animal cunning. “I trust,
sir
,
that you gave no credence to such a self-serving and implausible
story out of the mouth of this – this cutworm!”

It was not a question.

“I take it you’re denyin’ you had anythin’ to
do with – ”

“What I’m
doing
, Cobb, is ordering you
to haul this thief and prevaricator off to jail.
This
instant
! I have seen the wretch only once before in my life –
when Epp dragged him over to help repair the porch – and I do not
intend to lay eyes on him again. Now go, at once!”

“I didn’t do nothin’ wrong!”

Cobb grabbed Nestor by one elbow. “Come
along,” he said, but made no move to leave.

Nestor, fearing the worst, pulled something
out of his pocket and managed to babble, “But she give me these
keys. How else could I have gotten ‘em?”

Constance reached out and snatched both keys.
“Don’t be absurd,” she snapped. “Look at these, Cobb. They’re cheap
copies.”

Cobb looked at them, and nodded his
agreement.

“Epp and this creature here were likely in
the game together,” she said. This bald-faced lie prompted a new
thought. “Have you searched him thoroughly?” she said with a
malicious half-smile.

Cobb sighed, but went through the motions of
patting down the suspect. “Only the keys on him, ma’am. You was
expectin’ somethin’ more?”

“Of course not. I was just making sure you
knew your duty. Now take him out of here before the vicar is
wakened.”

Cobb shoved Nestor along and they went out
the oaken door. With Nestor squirming and whining, Cobb paused and
glanced back inside. Constance Hungerford was bent over and feeling
about among the flagstones below the Poor Box. Looking for the
locket she had taken from David Chalmers’ desk, Cobb thought
ruefully. He would return it as soon as he could.

“But you can’t just cart me off to jail,”
Nestor wailed.

“If the magistrate has to choose between your
story an’ the lady’s, who is he gonna believe, eh?”

“But that silver thing, it ain’t mine!”

“You had a key fer the church. You coulda got
into the vicarage through the tunnel an’ filched it from Chalmers’
study.”

“
But I didn’t
!”

They had progressed along the single block
between Church Street and the Court House. Suddenly Cobb pulled
Nestor into the nearby shadows and whispered harshly, “Shut yer gob
fer a second an’ listen. I ain’t throwin’ you in jail. I’d like to
throw
her
inta some dungeon an’ leave her to rot, but I
can’t, an’ you know I can’t. She’s a respectable Christian lady and
a crony of his
ever-rants.
”

“You’re gonna let me go?”

“Only if you agree to vamoose fer a couple of
weeks. If she asks, I’ll say you escaped. But I got a feelin’ that
now her game is up, she’ll soon forget about you. An’ here’s two
bucks ta tide ya over.”

Nestor dropped to his knees and threw both
arms around Cobb’s shins, knocking his forehead against Cobb’s
tender kneecap.

“Fer God’s sake, quit
gravellin’
an’
get up, man! I ain’t no engraved image!”

Nestor relaxed his hold, reluctantly, and got
back onto his feet. He gripped Cobb’s right hand in his. “You
always been good to me, Cobb. An’ you’re the only one. The only way
I c’n think of thankin’ you is ta give ya a bit of information I
swore never to tell – on my granny’s grave.”

Cobb stared at Nestor with fresh interest.
“Not about Reuben Epp?”

Nestor grinned. “The same.”

“Well, out with it! The sun’ll be comin’ up
and I want you a long ways from here before it does.”

“All right, all right. It’s like this. I was
over at Swampy Sam’s havin’ a drink or two with him, an’ before we
know it we’re both pie-eyed.”

“Some news that is.”

“Well, Swampy gets awful gossipy in his cups,
an’ he tells me Reuben Epp was his best customer till he hung
himself – payin’ up regular an’ sometimes even treatin’ the
house.”

“Reuben had come inta money somewheres?”

“Yup. Started before Christmas. Seems a long
lost cousin’d moved to town an’ Reuben was goin’ to her fer extra
cash when he needed it – which was quite often. He told Swampy the
gal was ashamed of him an’ give him money just ta keep him quiet
an’ well away from her fancy house.”

Cobb took a deep breath and said, “And who
might this cousin be?”

Nestor looked coy for a millisecond, thought
better of it, and said, “You gotta promise not ta tell Swampy I
told you – ”

“Just spit it out, Nestor, or I’ll change my
mind about tossin’ you in the clink.”

Nestor told him.

And here at last was the lead Cobb had been
hoping for all along: a direct link between Reuben Epp and someone
wealthy and presumptuous enough to be a willing accomplice in the
murder of Dick Dougherty.

TWENTY THREE

Cobb knew that he should take the news straight to
Chief Sturges. The name that Nestor Peck had given him was
prominent enough to warrant the kind of special treatment that only
a chief constable or attorney-general or even a lieutenant-governor
could negotiate. On the other hand, he had been given a name and a
relationship – that was all. Surely it was logical for him to
pursue the matter to the point where its significance to the murder
case became moot; after all, a cousin could be merely a cousin,
couldn’t it?

Deep down, though, Cobb knew full well that
he was driven by his desire to solve the murder
on his own
,
before the major got back from New York on Saturday or Sunday.
There was also the matter of method. While Marc was a subtle and
tactful interrogator with an intuitive grasp of human motive and
behaviour, Cobb fancied that his own more direct approach, coupled
with his vast knowledge of city-life and his network of snitches on
the ground, was more likely to pay dividends. For example, his bold
decision to stake out the church, taking advantage of Missy Prue’s
attraction to him, had not only put the kibosh on the unchristian
shenanigans of Constance Hungerford and saved David Chalmers from
possible ruin, it had led inexorably to Nestor Peck’s startling
revelation.

Now all he had to do was confront the cousin
and shake the truth out of her tree!

***

To his surprise Cobb was shown immediately into Mavis
McDowell’s sitting-room by a plump maid with a permanent blush.

“Oh, do come in, Constable Cobb,” Mavis said,
putting aside a sheaf of official-looking papers, rising from her
brocaded settee, and smiling at him expectantly. “You’ve come to
bring me news, I believe.”

Taken aback by this effusive greeting, Cobb
mumbled his reply: “Well, sort of, ma’am.” His helmet was in his
hands, searching for a spot to settle, while the spikes of his hair
reared up alarmingly.

“I have been so worried about the thefts from
the Poor Box,” she continued. “Mrs. Hungerford has been very
understanding, but as treasurer of the Ladies Auxiliary I feel
personally responsible.”

Cobb was quick to respond. “Then you’ll be
glad to know that the robber was caught – this very mornin’.”

“That is wonderful news. I must say that I am
impressed by the diligence of your constabulary. I shall be sure to
inform Mr. McDowell of your success in this matter. You see, he is
of the old school. He feels that the system of constables directed
by squire-magistrates appointed from amongst the better classes is
more efficient and safer from corruption than a municipal police
force under the wing of ordinary aldermen. I shall enjoy disabusing
him.” She reached out and touched his sleeve. “And I do want to
apologize for the abruptness of my manner the last time we met. I
was somewhat . . . distraught when I found the box empty.”

Cobb’s nose was purpling, for more than one
reason. Now that he was here and face to face with this tall and
elegant woman with her diligently braided hair and large, probing
eyes, he wasn’t sure how to proceed. He didn’t know whether he was
overawed, intimidated or disarmed by the touch of brittle
vulnerability he detected in her eyes and her posture.

“Who was the culprit?” she asked.

“Oh, just some vagabond, ma’am. He won’t be
robbin’ anybody else fer a long time.”

“Ah, I see.” She smiled and added, “Would you
like some tea?”

“No, thanks, ma’am. Ya see, I’ve come about
somethin’ else, somethin’ serious an’ . . . well . . .
delicate.”

“You have?” she said, stepping back but
showing no real concern. After all, she was the wife of a very
important politician and used to petitioners of every ilk.

At this critical moment in Cobb’s effort to
redirect the interrogation, however, they were distracted by the
maid stumbling in the hallway and righting herself against the sash
of the open door.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, ma’am. I was just takin’
this – ”

“It’s all right, Muriel. But I hope you
weren’t going off to the back shed with that waste basket?”

Muriel’s blush threatened to burst her plump
cheeks. “Oh. I did forget, ma’am. I’ll take it to the sewin’ room,
as usual.”

Mavis waved her away with an indulgent smile,
watched her close the door discreetly, then turned back to Cobb,
still unconcerned. “Now is there something you wish from me or Mr.
McDowell?” she said with a note of disappointment in her voice.

“Oh, it ain’t like that, ma’am. I ain’t come
fer a reward or a favour.” He seized his helmet by the brim and
squeezed. “It’s a police matter.”

She smiled uncertainly, but said, “Then you
had better sit down and tell me about it. I am not one of those
wives who sits in her sewing-room embroidering pillows: Mowbray and
I are partners in the enterprise of politics. I am privy to his
thoughts and his efforts in the legislature. I managed his election
campaign. If there is a ‘police matter,’ as you say, which concerns
the McDowells, then please give me the pertinent details – all of
them.”

Cobb sat opposite her on the edge of a chair
that appeared to be designed to repel any would-be occupant. He
swallowed hard and said, “Well, ma’am, I been told, by an
un-peckable
source, that you an’ Reuben Epp are
cousins.”

She didn’t blink, but she stayed very still
before saying, “We
were
cousins. Reuben was my mother’s
sister’s son.” She gave him a bold stare and added, “Born out of
wedlock. Ran away from home at eleven.”

“I see,” Cobb said, though he wasn’t sure he
did. Her candour had caught him off-guard. “You’re tellin’ me,
then, that you ain’t seen him since then?”

“I am. That is, until I moved here in October
to set up this house in anticipation of my husband’s arrival.”

“Ahh.”

“Is that a meaningful ‘ah’ or a puzzled
one?”