Withers said a quick hello to Cardiff, thenknelt beside him near the body. At this point Cobb arrived, byaccident, from the opposite direction. He had been investigating abreak-in at the Palace just up the street.
“What’ve we got here?” he said toWithers.
“A murder by the looks of it,” Withers aid.“It looks as if acid or something corrosive was thrown in Mrs.Cardiff-Jones’s face, and she fell on that low, spiked fence,severing her jugular vein. She died quickly.”
“I’ve got the vial the acid was in,” Wilkiesaid. “I found it in that man’s hand.” He pointed at Gagnon, whosat staring at the scene with blank eyes.
Withers took the vial and passed it under hisnose. “It’s acid all right. Probably hydrochloric.”
“And what’s this?” Cobb said, bending down.He picked up a gentleman’s glove.
“It was right there when I come,” Wilkiesaid.
“Are you going to arrest this blackguard?”Cardiff said to Cobb. “Or do I have to give him a good thrashingfirst?”
“I’ll need to talk to him,” Cobb said.
“I’ll fetch him fer ya,” Wilkie said.
“I want to know what you saw,” Cobbsaid.
“Well,” Wilkie said, “I was just comin’ alongFront Street here on my regular beat when I look up and see thisfella bendin’ over somethin’ on the ground. I couldn’t tell then itwas the lady of the house. I run up to him and I see he’s bendin’over her and holdin’ that vial in his left hand. Then I see theblood on the lady’s throat and I know there’s been foul play. Whenthe fella looks up, I see he’s got a fresh scratch on his facewhere the lady clawed him. Poor thing.”
“Did the man say anythin’ to you by way ofexplanation?”
“He started jabberin’ gibberish at me. Ithink he’s fer the loony bin.”
“The woman fell or was pushed against thespiked fence,” Withers said, getting up. “She slashed her ownthroat. You can see her blood on that spike there.” He pointed tothe fence, where indeed one of the spikes was dripping blood. “Iassume the acid was thrown at her first, but I can’t be sure.”
“Either way, we’re lookin’ at a grislymurder,” Cobb said. “You’ll check under her fingernails fer skin orblood?”
“I’ll do that back at the surgery.”
“Must you do an autopsy?” Cardiff said.
“It is my duty to do so, Humphrey. I’m verysorry. But I’ll do it right away so you can have the body.”
“This is all such a great shock to me,’”Cardiff said. “Why would anyone want to hurt my Delores? She neverharmed a soul.”
“I think the fella’s crazy,” Wilkie said.
“Well, crazy or not, I gotta talk to him,”Cobb said.
Cobb went over to the stoop. “What’s yourname?” he said to Gagnon.
Gagnon replied with a burst of French.
“Please, speak English if you can.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t even realize I wasspeaking French,” Gagnon said.
“The constable here says he found you bendin’over the body with a vial of acid in yer left hand. And that’s somenasty scratchin’ you’ve got on yer face.”
“I did not harm the woman, Constable. I waswalking along this street, heading for Rosewood to talk to Mr.Cardiff, when I saw a man greet the woman over there and tosssomething liquid in her face. She cried out and spun around, and Isaw her fall over the fence. She jerked upward and then slumped tothe ground. Meanwhile, the man dropped the vial and fled around thefar side of the house.”
“And what did this man look like?” Cobb ranhis hands through his untidy hair, surprised yet again not find hishelmet there. He still was not used to being a plainclothesdetective, even though he had now been at it for almost ninemonths.
“The man was short and slight. It was duskand the light was poor. I just caught his outline, in a kind ofblur.”
“Well, he left his glove behind, eh?”
“I wouldn’t know. But it’s not mine. I cameaway without my gloves this evening.”
“Let us be sure,” Cobb said, and he went overto where he had set the glove and returned with it. “Here, try iton.”
Gagnon tried unsuccessfully to pull the smallglove over his large hand. “It won’t fit. It’s only half the sizeof my hand.”
“Maybe the glove was lyin’ there all along,”said Wilkie.
Cobb smiled, as Wilkie generally did notdeploy logical thought or, if he did, preferred to keep it tohimself.
“You could be right, Wilkie.” Cobb took theglove back. To Gagnon he said, “How do you explain holdin’ a vialof acid in yer hand and bendin’ over the dead lady who managed toscratch you before she died?”
“I was checking to see if she was stillalive. I was going to rouse the household when the constable camealong and more or less arrested me.”
“But the vial?”
“It was lying beside the woman. I could seeher ruined face and I just picked it up out of curiosity.”
“But why would the lady scratch you if shewasn’t afraid of you?”
“She must have mistaken me for her attacker.You can’t think I did this. I don’t even know the woman.”
“You never met Mrs. Cardiff-Jones?”
“Only once, briefly. At the Charity Ball. Ihad no reason to throw acid in her face.”
“You ain’t gonna believe that load ofmalarkey?” Wilkie said.
“What do you think, Angus?” Cobb said toWithers.
“Plausible, but not likely, eh? That scratchis pretty damning.”
“I’d like you to come to police headquartersfer more questions,” Cobb said to Gagnon. “We’ll see what the Chiefmakes of all this.”
“You’re not going to let him go?” Cardiffsaid, looking over at Gagnon and then at the members of his staffwho had now all come out to see what was going on.
“Not fer the moment, no,” Cobb said.
He signalled to Wilkie to get Gagnon on hisfeet. Cobb was very excited. This was his first solo murdercase.
***
Chief Constable Cyril Bagshaw was waiting for Cobb,Wilkie and Gagnon, having been alerted to the general circumstancesof the crime by Phil Rossiter. Bagshaw was whippet-thin. Hisuniform seemed to be ironed on him (it was his sergeant’s uniformfrom his glory days on the London Metropolitan Police Force). Hesported a brace of craggy brows, an outsize nose and a pair ofpop-eyes that seemed manufactured for pouncing.
“Rossiter tells me you found the perpetratoron the scene,” Bagshaw said to Wilkie as they came into thereception area.
“I caught him red-handed, sir. With a scratchon his face and weapon in hand,” Wilkie said as he shoved Gagnonfarther into the room.
“You’ve questioned this fellow?” Bagshaw saidto Cobb.
“I have, sir, and I’m not certain we have theright fellow.”
“What’s your name?” Bagshaw said toGagnon.
“I am Gilles Gagnon,” Gagnon said. “I am anassociate of Louis LaFontaine. I am helping him with his electioncampaign, and I am innocent of any wrongdoing.”
“You’re French, then?” Bagshaw said.
“I am from Montreal. Monsieur LaFontaine isrunning in the fourth riding of York.”
“I know who Mr. LaFontaine is, sir, and Iknow where and why he’s trying to get elected. But right now I’minterested in what happened up at Rosewood. I suggest we go intothat off ice and discuss the matter.” He pointed to the officeshared by the constables and used by Cobb to store his files andpapers.
Bagshaw, Cobb, Wilkie and Gagnon went intothe office and arranged themselves around the table inside.
“Wilkie, you were the first one on the scene,I take it?” Bagshaw said.
“Yeah,” Wilkie said. “And I seen this manbendin’ over the dead woman – ”
“Who is?”
“Mrs. Cardiff-Jones,” Cobb said. “Thedaughter of the Attorney-General.”
Bagshaw’s eyebrows shot up and quivered. “Oh,my. This is a calamity!”
“It happened on her own front walk, in broaddaylight,” Wilkie said.
“Go on, then, Wilkie.”
“I come up to this man and see him holdin’ avial of some sort, and I notice that scratch on his face.”
“Given by the lady?” Bagshaw said.
“Yes,” Gagnon interrupted. “I admit shescratched me. I was bending down to see if she was still breathingand she must have mistaken me for her attacker because she lashedout. I didn’t jump back in time.”