Brodie said goodnight and left for home. Marcslipped into bed and gently stroked his wife’s knotted calves.
***
More than a hundred mourners crowded into the modestwooden building on Hospital Street that normally served the severaldozen Congregational adherents of the city – for the funeral ofRichard Dougherty. Besides those few but loyal acquaintances Dickhad made since his emergence from hibernation in January, therewere those ordinary folk who had grown to admire him for the efforthe had made in defense of Sergeant Billy McNair, one of the heroesof the “patriot wars.” Billy himself was present, with his pregnantwife Dolly, who had worked in Beth’s shop until marrying Billyafter the trial. But the biggest surprise of all was the arrival ofKingsley Thornton, the crown prosecutor whom Doubtful Dick hadbested in the Court of Queen’s Bench.
Robert offered to hold the receptionfollowing the service at Baldwin House. Beth was too tired to go,but Marc and Cobb put in a token appearance before setting out tobegin their investigation. Marc decided that they would start atthe vicarage. Because Cobb had already met Quentin Hungerford, hevolunteered to have another run at him. Meanwhile, Marc would seekout David Chalmers.
“Let’s focus on Epp,” Marc suggested. “Weneed to know how close he might have been to either man.”
“An’ we need to snoop about to see if we canfind any of that fancy paper,” Cobb added as they walked up thepath to the rear door of the vicarage.
“We’ll need to find the housemaids, too,”Marc said. “They’re never as invisible as their employersthink.”
“There’s two of ‘em,” Cobb said. “Young MissyPrue and a gnarly older gal called Myrtle Welsh.”
It was the latter – middle-aged,scrub-toughened, and sceptical – who answered Cobb’s knock. Sherecognized the constable immediately.
“The Reverend’s busy,” she said. “He ain’tseein’ nobody today.”
“I’m afraid he’ll have to,” Marc saidpolitely. “We’ve been officially assigned to investigate the murderof Richard Dougherty. I wish to interview Reverend Chalmers and Mr.Cobb would like to see Reverend Hungerford.”
Myrtle Welsh appraised Marc’s clothing with akeen eye, and said, “Well, seein’ as you’re a gentleman, I guessit’ll be alright.”
She let them in, after instructing them towipe their boots on the mat. “Mr. Chalmers is in his little study,right here,” she said, indicating a door just inside the narrowhallway. Opposite it was the door that must open onto the coveredwalkway to the church itself. “Just knock an’ go on in. He won’tbite ya.”
She led Cobb to the end of the hall and theydisappeared into the main section of the vicarage, which housed theHungerfords.
“Come on in!”
Marc hadn’t yet knocked, but did as he wasbid.
In a cramped little room, crowded with booksand papers, sat David Chalmers, junior vicar of St. James -writing. He was a cherubic man, no longer able to call himselfyoung, with bright green eyes and a genuine smile. His clericalcollar was askew, and his chin and vest were blotched withink-smudges. Despite the smile he gave Marc as he introducedhimself, he looked like a worried man.
“I take it you’ve come about that dreadfulbusiness with Mr. Dougherty,” Chalmers said. “Your reputation as aninvestigator precedes you.”
“I have, and I apologize for barging in likethis, but time is of the essence in this case.”
Marc was not surprised, given the obviousintelligence in Chalmers’ face, when the vicar said, “You believethat someone else was involved with Reuben in the murder?”
“I do. I’m not at liberty to say exactly whatevidence we have to that effect, but it is compelling. Sir GeorgeArthur has given us ten days to see if we can find the accomplice,who may turn out to be the instigator as well.”
Chalmers looked thoughtful. “Reuben Epp was aman with many fine qualities, but he was also deeply troubled andunstable. We did our best here to make his life tolerable.”
“We know about his drinking binges and hisreligious zeal.”
“Aah. And you assume like many others thatthat zeal drove him to slaughter a man he didn’t know?”
“It looks that way, given the note we foundat the scene and the gouged-out eye.”
Chalmers nodded to indicate he was aware ofthe veiled reference to the Archdeacon’s sermon. “Still, I wasshocked to learn that Reuben did it, but his hanging himselfconfirms the fact, doesn’t it? You see, he had no family thatanyone knows about, but his loneliness and his not being able toread the Bible in whose parables and commandments he foundhis only comfort – well, they often sent him to the bootlegger’s.The poor chap drank alone or else with strangers in ablind-pig.”
“He didn’t gamble, then? Or havecronies?”
“No. Definitely not. As I say, he wasunstable. He often came late for work or not at all. Quentin, blesshim, covered up these peccadilloes as best he could, not wantingthe Archdeacon to get wind of them.”
“Dr. Strachan would have sacked him?”
“Possibly, though the Archdeacon is lenientwith drinkers, enjoying a tot now and then himself. But not withshirkers.”
“Did you yourself ever meet Mr. Dougherty?”Marc said disingenuously.
Chalmers gave Marc a shrewd, appraising look.“I did. About ten days ago.” He paused, not quite certain how heought to continue. “On a matter pertaining to a legal problem.”
Marc decided that a judicious lie was inorder. “I know something of the matter. We found references to itamong Dougherty’s papers.”
Chalmers sighed. “Then you’ll know that Mrs.Hungerford accused me of theft, and that Mr. Dougherty was the onlysolicitor who would agree to help me. You see, as a result of hercharge – made to the Archdeacon – my work as treasurer for theparish was audited. Well, I admitted up front that I was an inept,although diligent, accountant. Small discrepancies were discovered.I don’t think Dr. Strachan believed I was guilty of actual theft -he’s known me since I was ten – but he is sensitive to anywhiff of scandal concerning St. James – ”
“Especially with his elevation to bishopimminent.”
“That’s part of it, yes. He suggested I bemoved to a wilderness parish in the Huron Tract – till things blewover. I did not wish to go at all, but more important to me was myreputation in general. I had not been clearly exonerated of theaccusation of theft, and the odds were good that the news wouldleak out. And eventually ruin me.”
“I understand. Would you mind telling me howsuch an outlandish charge came to be made?”
“Not at all. Mrs. Hungerford is head of theLadies Auxiliary. A few weeks ago she organized a bazaar at theMarket to raise money for the Widows and Orphans Fund. I alwaysassist in these matters. At the time, Mrs. McDowell, the wife ofMowbray McDowell – ”
“The MLA from Kingston?”
“Yes. His wife, who has lived here on her ownsince October, is a parishioner of St. James, and was madetreasurer of the Ladies Auxiliary. But being new to the job, sheasked me to take custody of any cash we raised that day. Chits andreceipts were carefully kept on site for all goods sold. At the endof the day, I put all the proceeds and chits in a strongbox andcarried them here to my rooms. The next day, while I was out, the‘take’ was counted by Mrs. Hungerford and Mrs. McDowell. There wasa ten-dollar discrepancy between the total of the chits and theactual cash. And since I was the only one with access to thestrongbox overnight, it was I who was accused. I was, of course,stunned. Mrs. Hungerford has never liked me, but I found her chargeundignified, unchristian, and certainly untrue.”
“Could not any volunteer at the bazaar havesiphoned off the ten dollars? Or even lost it or mislaid it?”
“Not really. As they brought their cash tothe main counter, it was mentally noted before it was put into thestrongbox. We had all agreed that we had roughly seventy-twodollars in there. But Mrs. Hungerford wanted to make sure that allthe chits had been made out properly and retrieved, and thenmatched to the cash total. She suggested this final accounting beleft until the next day. As it turned out, we had less thansixty-two dollars in the kitty.”