“But I must be here for the birth of ourson.”
“Well, as I recall, you weren’t plannin’ onhelpin’ with the delivery, were you?” She smiled. “Don’t befoolish, love. Dora is ten minutes away. Charlene is here day an’night, an’ Jasper would like to be. Besides, I’ll ask our daughterto wait a while. That shouldn’t be hard: women know how towait.”
Beth’s speech was met with various degrees ofsilence. Finally, Cobb said, “But until the roads get better afterthe spring rains let up, you can’t get very far on land. An’there’s still enough ice on the lakes to keep the bigger boats indry dock. I don’t see how you can get to New York quickly, or atall.”
“But we could,” Marc said, glancing atBrodie. “The Erie Canal will be unfrozen all the way from Buffaloto Albany by now. That’s the route that Brenner and Tallman weretaking.”
“But it could be dangerous there,” Cobb said.“All them Yankees an’ you a stranger.”
“I was a Yankee once,” Beth said,smiling.
“Well, I know many of the importantfamilies,” Brodie said with mounting excitement. “I went toboarding school with the sons.”
And Marc, though he didn’t plan on tellingBrodie just yet, had contacts of his own in New York. “If Brodieand I left on the early morning steamer to Burlington – icepermitting – we could cross over to Niagara and be in Buffalobefore noon. We can travel light and sleep on the deck of a bargeif we have to. From what I’ve been told, we might arrive onManhattan Island as early as Sunday evening.”
“But Sir Gorge’s might call fer the inquest aweek from next Monday. That’s about when our ten days’ll be up.”Cobb said.
“I think he might be persuaded to extend thedeadline,” Brodie said, “when he knows what we’re up to.”
“What’s really bothering you, Cobb?”Marc said.
Cobb gave his partner a sheepish grin.“There’s still a lot of interviewin’ to be done here, major. Youain’t expectin’ me to head up the case all by myself, are ya?”
“Why not?” Marc said. “You know what to doand how to go about it. Just mix in a little tact, as Sir Georgesuggested.”
“It seems I already got too many tacks,” Cobbsaid, still smarting from his encounter with the ReverendHungerford.
“Then it’s settled,” Marc said.
THIRTEEN
After a snowy January, the winter of 1839 had turnedunseasonably warm with frequent thaws, sleet storms and, finally inearly March, torrential rains. All this had made the roadsimpassable, and a sudden return to cold weather in the middle ofthe month had left the waterways dotted with ice-floes and morethan one ice-jam. However, several of the smaller, moremanoeuvrable steamers had begun venturing out into Lake Ontario,and an irregular mail-packet now plied cautiously between Torontoand Burlington. It was one of these latter that Marc and BroderickLangford boarded at the Queen’s Wharf about eight o’clock of aThursday morning. Only Cobb stood by to wave them Godspeed. Othergoodbyes had been said at Briar Cottage, several of themtearful.
Marc had sat with Cobb the previous eveningand gone over plans for the continuing investigation in Toronto.Cobb had taken home all of Marc’s notes to date just in case heneeded to refer to them. Now he stood on the wharf watching hisbreath balloon in the crisp, clear air, and realized that he wastruly on his own as investigator. Marc insisted that he and Brodiewould be back in ten days, but North America wasn’t England: anysort of travel here was hazardous and wholly unpredictable.Moreover, no-one knew what kind of troubles Dick Dougherty had beenembroiled in back in New York City or what manner of enemy he mayhave made. If one of them had plotted to assassinate Dick,using poor Epp as his pawn, would he not do the same to anyone benton exposing him? Beth had not seemed alarmed about thispossibility, however, telling Cobb that “He come back from thewars, didn’t he?”
The ship’s whistle startled Cobb out of hisreverie, and he watched the wood-burning side-wheeler until itdisappeared around the island-spit that protected the harbour. Thenhe walked slowly back up to Front Street.
***
Wilfrid Sturges was not happy when Cobb conveyed thenews to him. It was his opinion that Marc was more concerned withrehabilitating Dougherty’s reputation than he was in catching anaccomplice to murder. Cobb didn’t disagree. Being a practical man,however, Sturges allowed as they would have to “make do.” Cobb wasto combine his regular patrol duties (self-directed andidiosyncratic anyway) with judiciously timed interrogation of thesuspects whom he and Marc had targeted. Cobb was relieved thatSturges had lost none of his enthusiasm for continuing the case,despite the risks. He was also pretty certain that the royalsummons to the Archdeacon’s “palace” on Sunday had as much to dowith his chief’s determination as the pursuit of justice.
An hour later, Cobb was ushered into thestudy of Everett Stoneham, Executive Councillor and lifetime memberof the ruling Family Compact. Cobb noted the book-lined walls andfelt the carpet caressing his boots. He was never intimidated bybooks and those possessing them, however, even though he himselfread little. His father, who had just died in February, had owned asmall but cherished library, had worshipped Shakespeare, and hadpaid homage to the Bard by naming his sons Laertes and Horatio (orLarry and Harry as the boys preferred to call themselves).
Stoneham waited a good thirty seconds beforehe removed his spectacles with a bored gesture and turned partwayaround in his chair to acknowledge the visitor. He stared at Cobb’smuddy boots before scanning the rest of him – upwards.
“What do the police want with me?” he said,but there was no hint of concern in his face.
“I’m lookin’ into Mr. Dougherty’s death,”Cobb said.
“Shouldn’t you be out on your patrolpreventing murder?”
“We’ve caught one of the villains, sir, butthe other one’s still abroad.”
“You mean that there’s another madman likeReuben Epp running loose in the city?” Stoneham feigned shocknicely, as he had done innumerable times when he had sat in theAssembly.
“Not exactly, sir. We got reason to think Eppwas helped to carry out the crime, by someone who wanted Mr.Dougherty out of his hair but didn’t wanta do the deedhimself.”
Stoneham now looked genuinely appalled. “Areyou accusing me of such a crime?”
So much for tact, Cobb thought. It was hardto see how tact could be managed with these bigwigs. “No, sir. Ofcourse not.”
“Then why in blazes are you here?”
Good question – alas. “Well, sir, we was toldyou threatened Mr. Dougherty at the Legislature last Saturd’yevenin’. An’ my chief just needs to make sure you weren’t inany way involved – ”
Stoneham was in the process of turning threeshades of crimson when Cobb said quickly, “Ya see, we don’t wantpeople spreadin’ nasty rumours about you, now do we?” He waspleased with this tactful ploy.
Stoneham’s dudgeon began to subside somewhat,and his cheeks faded from crimson to a not-unpleasant pink. “Well,I was rather loud in my denunciation of the degenerate thatnight. But all I intended to do was to let him know that he had nochance of being admitted to the Bar, and that his putting out hisshingle was an act of outrageous presumption.”
“That’s what we been told,” Cobb soothed.
“By that turncoat Edwards, no doubt!” Some ofthe flush returned to Stoneham’s cheeks.
“But you have to admit, sir, that the phrase‘over my dead body’ has an unfortunate ring to it.”
“Damn that meddling fool!”
“If I may say so, sir, you seem to have arather sharp temper.”
Stoneham started to respond angrily butstopped himself as he realized his response was about to prove theimpudent constable’s point. And as a superb debater in his Assemblydays, he did not relish the thought of being out-argued by anilliterate. “Only when the object of my temper is deserving of suchsharpness,” he said with practiced aplomb.