“I’ll do that,” Cobb said.
***
Devil’s Acre was as quiet as a tomb during daylighthours. It felt like a ghost town to Cobb as he walked through thenarrow alleys that served as streets. He had stopped in at theCrooked Anchor and bearded one of his snitches, Itchy Quick,concerning the whereabouts of Dowd’s gambling joint. It turned outto be about a block west of LaFrance’s brothel and a block and ahalf from the scene of the crime. Cobb rapped loudly on the dooruntil he finally roused someone inside.
The door inched open a crack. “We’re closedfer Christ’s sake. Go away.”
“I’m the police,” Cobb said, “and I need totalk to Ned Dowd.”
“You’re lookin’ at him,” the fellow saidgrumpily. “Whaddya want?”
“I need to know if John Kray is here orhereabouts.”
“Ah, Kray. He’s inside somewhere, sleepin’off a mighty drunk. Do you want me to kick him awake?”
“I do. I’ll wait outside here fer him.”
Cobb stood on the snow-covered stoop andwaited. Three or four minutes later a young man with a shock of redhair and puffed eyes came out, shivering in his overcoat.
“What’s this all about?” he saidnervously.
“I’ve come to talk to you about SallyButts.”
The young man’s expression softened. “MySally?” he said, puzzled. “Has anything happened to her?”
If he were faking his ignorance, he was doinga good job, Cobb thought. “I’m afraid I have to tell you that she’sdead,” he said.
“Dead? How?”
“She was murdered last night, not two blocksfrom where we’re standin’.”
“Oh, my God! That’s not possible.”
“I’m afraid it is. I seen the bodymyself.”
John Kray sat down on the stoop, put his headin his hands and wept. Cobb stood beside him, much embarrassed. Hehoped Kray wasn’t putting on a good show. Or perhaps he was weepingbecause of regret, not sorrow.
“Who did it?”
“We don’t know. Someone came up behind herand slashed her throat.”
“My God, that’s terrible. I begged her toleave that place.”
“I need to ask you, sir, where you were aboutten o’clock last evenin’.”
Kray looked up, startled. “You can’t think Ihad anythin’ to do with her death?”
“Well, sir, I know she had turned down yeradvances and that you were stalkin’ her right here in Devil’sAcre.”
“You’ve been talkin’ to her parents, haven’tyou?”
“Were you or were you not followin’ her abouttown?”
“I just wanted to talk to her. I wanted toget her out of Madame LaFrance’s whorehouse. She didn’t belongthere. Now she’s dead, because of it.”
“You ain’t answered my question yet.”
“I was in this dive, from eight o’clockonwards. I got thoroughly pissed. I just woke up a few minutesago.”
“I guess Ned Dowd can vouch fer that.”
“Of course he can.”
“I spoke to yer mother, son. She’s worriedsick about you. I’d advise you to go home. And stay there because Imight want to talk to you again.”
While John Kray staggered off, Cobb wentinside the foul-smelling dive and spoke to Ned Dowd, who — tono-one’s surprise — backed up Kray’s alibi. But in the smokyconfines of this gambling den a person could slip out easily andthen slip back in again without being noticed coming or going. Butof course Cobb couldn’t prove that that’s what had happened withKray.
Perhaps his evening would be moreproductive.
THREE
Cobb spent the early evening with Dora and the kids,then went out again about ten o’clock. He walked to Devil’s Acreand made his way through the fresh snow to Madame LaFrance’s place.He did not go right up to the door, but waited in the shadows untila well-dressed gentleman appeared out of a side-alley and ascendedthe front steps. Cobb slipped up behind him. The fellow then gave acoded knock and the door was instantly opened by Madame LaFranceherself.
“Come in, good sir. We’ve been expectingyou,” she boomed, then spied Cobb right behind and scowled.
Cobb pushed his way past the expectedgentleman into the anteroom of the parlour.
“What is the meaning of this, sir?” Madamecried as Cobb continued on past her.
“I’ve come to interview the three gentlemenwho left here just after Sally Butts last night. Please be kindenough to point them out to me.”
The expected gentleman had turned to leave,spooked no doubt by the sudden appearance of a policeman.
“Oh, don’t go, Merry Man,” Madame said. “It’sjust the Constable wanting some business with a couple of mycustomers. There’s nothing to fear. Is there?” she added toCobb.
“You can go on with yer business, such as itis,” Cobb said. “I just want to talk to those men who were herelast night.”
“What if I said they were not here?” Madamesaid coyly.
“I’d say you was lyin’,” Cobb said, for hehad already spotted three likely looking gentlemen together over bythe fire.
Madame smiled rakishly. “They’re over there.But please be tactful. I’ve got a business to run.”
Cobb made his way through the smoke and opiumhaze of the parlour towards the designated customers. He went up tothe overweight fellow and said, “Sir Gawain, I presume?”
Bartholomew Pugh gave a start, then tried asmile. “I go by that nomination in here. What do you want with me,Constable?”
“I want to talk to you three about SallyButts.”
“Oh. Poor Sally. We heard all about it whenwe arrived. We’ve been discussing her as a matter of fact.”
“That’s what I’d like to do,” Cobb said, “butfirst I want to talk to people who’ve got names besides the knightsof the Round Table.”
With obvious reluctance, Pugh, GardinerClough and Simon Whitemarsh introduced themselves, their voicesbarely above a whisper.
“I understand you admired Sally Butts,” Cobbbegan.
Pugh decided to be spokesperson for thegroup. “Yes, we did. She sang like a warbler. We came here mainlyto hear her sing.”
“You were not attracted to her in any otherway?”
Pugh feigned umbrage despite hissurroundings, heavy with the scent of opium and tawdry sex. “Ofcourse not. There are other girls here for that sort of stuff.”
“None of you decided to follow her after sheleft?”
“Why would we do that?” Clough said.
“I’m lookin’ fer witnesses,” Cobb saidcraftily. “Some sewer rat from Devil’s Acre slit Sally’s throat,and I need to know if any of you gentlemen, who left right afterthe girl, saw anyone suspicious lurkin’ in the area.”
“I did not,” Whitemarsh said, “but then I gosouth and I was told Sally was found some blocks west of here.”
“And if I see anyone suspicious inthis place,” Clough said, “I look immediately the other way.I go east, and I don’t recall seeing anyone at all. And it wassnowing, so you couldn’t see much anyway.”
“You go west, then?” Cobb said to Pugh.
“I do. As does Sally. But she was ten minutesahead of us. And we must’ve taken different routes because I didn’tcome across her body in that alley.”
“Sorry we can’t help you,” Clough said. Andit was obvious from his tone that the Cavaliers did not seethemselves as suspects.
“Did any one of you lose a glove last night?”Cobb said abruptly.
There was a collective shaking of heads, andCobb thought of pulling the glove from his pocket to see if itmight prompt a startled look. But he didn’t. Instead he said, “I’dlike your home addresses, in case I need to speak to youagain.”
“Is that absolutely necessary?” Pughsaid.
“I don’t see how we could help further,”Clough said.
“I live with my mother,” Whitemarsh said,“and she’s very easily upset.”
“It’s just a formality,” Cobb said, enjoyingthe feel of that big word rolling off his tongue. If this detectivebusiness kept up, he’d be sounding like a gentleman soon.
“Very well, then, if you insist,” Pughsaid.
Cobb took down their addresses, then wentover to the piano, where Madame LaFrance had been standing, keepinga close watch on him and her clients. “I’d like to speak to some ofyer girls — alone, please,” he said.