“Yes, that’s the bad news in all this. ButI’ve felt in this case, as in several of our past ones, that motiveis the most determining factor in an investigation.”
Cobb smiled around his wayward teeth. “You’rethinkin’ of Tremblay, who ain’t too happy about yer economicaladventures an’ might wanta break up yer parlay?”
Marc had skirted around the political aspectsof the secret discussions, but Cobb was quite aware of their natureand purpose. As a Reform supporter, he heartily approved, though hedid wish the Quebec people would adopt a lingo that ordinary folkcould get their ears around.
“I’m certainly hoping it isn’tTremblay,” Marc said. “Now what have you got for us?”
“I got us a murderer,” Cobb said, unable tocontain his delight.
“You old bugger!” Marc said, laughing. “Youlet me go on and on, and all the while you’d already fingeredsomebody. Well, then, go ahead. I’m all ears.”
“I’m glad I waited fer you to finish,” Cobbsaid, “’cause what yer French gent told ya about what he’d seen inthe office over there perfectly fits what I’ve come up with.”
He then went straight to the main point: Austin Bragg was their man. Cobb laid out the fellow’s motive,means and opportunity, and then outlined the testimony he’delicited from the various other servants to corroborate his theory.He magnanimously omitted several of the more clever manoeuvres hehad used to get said testimony from servants who were not alwaysforthcoming. The presence of the doctored sherry on Chilton’s deskat or before midnight, along with Chilton’s advanced state ofinebriation, made Cobb’s deductions about how Bragg carried out thecrime not only plausible, but undeniable. Moreover, Bragg had liedand had suborned his own fiancée. For what other reason would hebehave so brazenly than to cover his tracks as a murderer?
Marc looked much relieved: better a servantthan a delegate from Quebec.
“What do we do now?” Cobb asked. “Go toPrissy an’ break that phoney alibi? Haul Bragg in here an’ put thescrews to him?”
Marc thought for a minute, then said, “Ithink we need to see what Bragg himself has to say first. You admityou failed to shake Prissy from her story a few minutes ago. Ithink it wise to let her stew for a few hours, if need be.”
“Maybe Bragg’ll fess up,” Cobb said, thoughhe was not sanguine about the possibility.
Marc got up. “We’ll soon see. I’ll haveGarnet round him up and bring him here. We’ll both take a run athim.”
Cobb rubbed his hands together. “I can’twait.”
Marc walked down the hall towards thebilliard-room. Macaulay must have heard him coming because hepopped out of the doorway and said hopefully, “Any news?”
“We’re on a promising trail, Garnet. I can’tgive you details yet, but Cobb and I need to talk to Austin Braggright away — in the library.”
“I believe he’s upstairs. I’ll get him foryou.”
“Thanks.”
“By the way, Marc. The natives are gettingvery restless. Could we possibly move the seven o’clock meetingwith Louis to six o’clock?”
“All right. Let’s do that. I may have aresult for you by then. If I need to, I can always ask for it to bemoved to a later time.”
“Good, good.” Macaulay, a natural optimist,did his best to smile through his anxiety. Then he dashed offtowards the rotunda.
Austin Bragg was not pleased at being escorted byhis employer into the library and bade to sit down opposite Marcand Cobb. But the setting, his master’s grave demeanour, and theno-nonsense expression on the face of his interrogators did much toundercut his belligerence. He sat grimly silent while Marc thankedMacaulay, who reluctantly left the room.
Marc got right to the point: “Mr. Bragg,Constable Cobb and I have good reason to believe that you didnot spend the night with your fiancée, Miss Finch.”
Bragg’s lip began to curl in defiance, buthis response was meek enough: “I don’t see how that’s possible. Itold yer friend here the truth.”
“We know all about the quarrel you had withMiss Finch as you two came downstairs from your chores at about aquarter to ten.”
“So what? We didn’t try to hide it — we wasloud enough to wake the dead.”
“But you failed to mention it when firstinterviewed.”
“Why should I have told you people? It didn’tmatter a fig to Chilton bein’ poisoned.”
“Oh, but it did,” Cobb said. “Who’s gonnabelieve you an’ Finch cozied up together after yer screamin’ match,and after that filthy word you yelled at her, eh?”
Bragg started to glower at Cobb, whom heconsidered a lesser being than a manservant in a prestigiouscountry manor. Then he sat back and let a contemptuous grin slideacross his face. “I called her a fucking slut, that’s all. I wasangry. But I was soon sorry I done it an’ — ”
“You called her that vile thing for lettingMr. Chilton accost her in the hall-pantry and otherwise accede tohis advances,” Marc said quietly. “Didn’t you?”
Bragg’s black eyes blazed. “You got nobusiness snoopin’ about in people’s personal affairs!”
“Ah, but we have, Mr. Bragg,” Marc said.“Your response to Miss Finch was one of anger and jealousy, both ofwhich are powerful incentives to murder. You feared that Chiltonwould steal the affections of your bride-to-be, didn’t you?”
Bragg snorted. “You can’t provoke me intasayin’ somethin’ I’d regret. Prissy and I made up. I said I wassorry, an’ that was all there was to it. I knew she’d never reallygo fer such a fancy Dan as Chilton.”
“You were heard goin’ inta yer own room an’she was heard slammin’ the door of hers,” Cobb said.
“Got yer spies everywhere, ain’t ya?”
“So, Mr. Bragg,” Marc said, “are you nowprepared to tell us what really happened? What you did after thequarrel had driven you to your separate rooms?”
Bragg stared hard at Marc, then Cobb, andbegan to smile slowly as he said, “Chilton was poisoned by someoneafter midnight, wasn’t he? I was with Prissy all night. An’ sheain’t said otherwise, has she? Else you would’ve come right outwith it, wouldn’t ya?”
Cobb gave the show away by saying sharply,“We know you’ve talked that girl inta lyin’ fer ya!”
Bragg got up, grinning. “You got nothin’ onme. I’ve got an alibi. I’m goin’ back to my work, where I should’vebeen all along.”
And he stomped out.
“He’s a tough customer,” Marc said to Cobb,who was seething.
“Not as tough as me, he ain’t! He thinks he’sput one over on us, but all he’s done is make us more certain he’sthe killer.”
“It looks that way,” Marc said. “It’s hard tosee why he’d go through with the lie and the stress it’s obviouslyputting on his fiancée unless he were guilty ofsomething.”
“So, Major, just how’re we gonna go aboutprovin’ it?”
“I’ll need to think about that somemore.”
“I say we drag Prissy in here an’ get her tode-track that alibi.”
“But even if she does, Cobb, we’ve got noreal evidence against Bragg. You searched his room and foundnothing. In fact, you searched all the bedrooms down there.”
“Except fer Mrs. Blodgett’s.”
“I’d bet ten pounds that Bragg would neverconsider hiding the laudanum bottle or anything else in thatquarter. Mrs. Blodgett may be ailing, but nothing goes on in herkitchen or its vicinity that she won’t know about or soondiscover.”
“So what’ll we do? You wanta come up with aguilty party before that meetin’ of yers, don’t ya?”
Marc nodded. “Bragg will go straight to MissFinch and tell her about the pressure we’re putting on them. Let’sgive her an hour or two more to sweat and worry. Also, the nexttime we bring Bragg in here, I want to know a lot more abouthim.”
“How’re we gonna do that? Unless we could getMrs. Blodgett to help.”
“Possibly. I’d like to know, for example,whether Bragg and the malcontent, Giles Harkness, were pals. Wereeither of them known to filch a bottle of the best from Macaulay’scellar or the well-stocked stores of other houses they followedtheir master into? That expensive sherry had to come into thishouse from somewhere outside it.”