Chapter Forty-three
THE INNKEEPER FOLLOWED MURDOCH into the parlour then turned the key in the lock.
“People wander around,” he said, nodding in the direction of the taproom. “Please have a seat.”
There was no question that there were plenty of chairs to choose from, the problem was negotiating a path through the furniture to any one of them. The room was filled with small tables, and on each one of them was a glass case under which was either a stuffed member of the dog family or representatives of their prey. He didn’t dare get Newcombe launched on a history of each piece, so he got straight to the point and remained standing.
“Vince, I just came from talking to Mrs. Bowling, and I met her daughter. Nan said some troubling things, but I couldn’t quite determine if they were true or not.”
“Not true, I’m sure. Poor girl isn’t right in the head as you could see.”
“She certainly seemed muddled but not completely in unreality.”
Newcombe regarded him uneasily. “What did she say?”
“That Philip Delaney was at their cottage the night his father died. However, according to his testimony and that of his mother, after the match he went directly from here to his own house, where he stayed until she sent him to look for his father.”
It was obvious this wasn’t what Newcombe had been expecting him to say, and Murdoch thought he was relieved.
“Philip does visit Nan to play with the dog. She probably got the days mixed up.”
“She said Philip brought two dogs with him, Flash and a grey dog that, by the sound of it, could only have been Havoc.”
“No, Will, no. I do appreciate the peculiarity of your circumstances, but you’re clutching at straws. Nan mixes up times when events take place. Don’t forget, the terrier was on the loose when Mr. Pugh found Delaney. Maybe the little cur wandered up to the Bowling cottage and Nan saw him, then in her mind added him to a visit Philip had made on another occasion.”
“She didn’t sound that confused, Vince. Not about this.”
Newcombe went and sat in the armchair by the hearth. “Forgive me saying so, Will, but I know the girl better than you do. You can’t rely on anything she says. And besides, even if by a remote stretch of the imagination she did get it right and Philip came to visit her that night, what does it prove?”
“That the boy was lying. He wasn’t at home.”
Newcombe rubbed at his head as if he were polishing it. “Well now, Philip Delaney isn’t quite accountable either. His memory isn’t the best.”
“Nan said he has a sweetheart. Does he?”
“Not that I know of. He’s a boy in a man’s body, don’t forget. I don’t think any proper young woman would encourage him.”
“By the same token, Nan is a girl in a woman’s body, but I doubt we men are always as scrupulous.”
Newcombe flinched like somebody whose sore tooth had just been probed by a dentist. He reached up and straightened one of the half-dozen photographs that hung in a line on the wall.
“Bad business,” he said ambiguously.
“Vince, listen to me. I don’t have time for niceties. There’s too much at stake. Why is it that I keep getting the impression you want to hide something? And I don’t mean about your charity act with Mrs. Bowling’s ale.” He caught Newcombe by the arm, forcing him to keep still. “Are you poking Nan? Is that the real reason you’re visiting the cottage? Is that why you don’t want your wife to know?”
Newcombe stared at him, appalled. “My God, no. How could you think that?”
“Because I saw the girl. She’s got the wiles of a whore. Some men find that appealing.”
“Not me. I promise you, I don’t.”
“Is it her mother then? Is the surly Mrs. Bowling your mistress?”
Newcombe shook off his hand. “No, she is not. You wouldn’t even say such a thing if you knew me better. And if you knew my Maria.”
“What is going on then? Tell me, because I know there’s something between you and Mrs. Bowling.”
The innkeeper moved away from him and perched on the edge of one of the armchairs. “You’re right but I swear it’s not on my part. Ucillus acts cosy like that all the time.”
“Why do you keep visiting her then?”
“I told you, I feel sorry for her. The girl is a handful.”
“I don’t believe you, Vince.”
“Whether you do or not isn’t the point. Besides it has nothing to do with your father’s case.”
“Let me be the judge of that.”
Newcombe stared at him, then he slumped back in the chair. “Will you promise not to repeat what I tell you?”
“That depends on what you tell me. If it is not, in fact, relevant, I’ll forget it.”
Newcombe picked up a smaller glass case and absent-mindedly rotated it to get the best view. There was a stuffed weasel inside.
“My Tripper got this one when she was only one year old.”
“Vince, not now, please.”
“All right, all right.” He returned the weasel to its place. “I knew Ucillus Bowling many years ago. Fifteen to be precise. I had just arrived in Canada. I went to Peterborough first of all. Maria and me were engaged, but she was still in England … I’m ashamed of myself and will be forever, but it’s a common story. I was lonely. I met Ucillus, who was eager to show me how welcoming Canadian girls could be. I succumbed. The whole affair lasted no more than a fortnight at most, and I told her I couldn’t continue. I moved away to Toronto and got work in a hotel. She hadn’t seemed to be bothered much by me going, and I never expected to see her again. Then she showed up here just over a year ago. She had a daughter in tow.” He nodded at Murdoch. “I can see you’re expecting what comes next. She said Nan was mine. She’d never married, and there’s no doubt in my mind she’d many another man in her bed. But what could I do? She didn’t want much from me, just some money every now and again. I didn’t want to tell Maria I’d been unfaithful to her, and I wanted to do the best I could by the girl.” He held out his hands in a gesture of supplication. “There you have it. I told you it wasn’t relevant to your situation.”
Murdoch studied Vince’s face for a moment. “Has Nan been in the habit of wandering about in the woods?”
Newcombe looked away and again Murdoch caught the uneasy expression in his eyes. He was not a difficult man to read, and he suspected Maria knew more than Vince gave her credit for.
He moved closer. “Why is it, Vince, that every time we get near the topic of this girl, you look like a poacher caught with a brace of pheasants in your hands? No, don’t gammon me. I believe what you’ve told me already….”
“Thank goodness….”
“But you haven’t said everything there is to say, have you? What are you hiding?” “Nothing…. I, er …”
“Will you please answer my question. Her mother had the girl tied up like a dog. Why?”
Newcombe’s shoulders slumped. “Nan did start slipping out of the house. Ucillus likes her drink, and the girl can be cunning. She’d go when her mother was asleep. I started to hear gossip, real covert, mostly when the men were in their cups; but it seemed she had picked up ways more becoming to a woman of the night than a young girl. Thank God nobody, as far as I knew, was prepared to take advantage of her; although I made it clear there would be no funny business from the men or they would hear from me. But I was sure it was only a matter of time before somebody trespassed. I warned her mother, and I myself try to keep a good lookout.”
“Was Delaney one of those men? He would have seen her often enough. Was he titillated by the girl?”
Newcombe sighed. “Yes, he was. I was on my way to visit Ucillus one afternoon in the spring. I came across him and Nan. He tried to deny it, but I thought he was on the verge of taking her. I warned him off.”
“I’d say it’s a good thing you have an alibi for the time of his murder, Vince.”
“Good Lord, you don’t think I … I’m not that sort of a fellow. I might give him a good talking to or even a swat but never like that …”
“All right, all right. As I said, you are covered. Unless you and Mr. Pugh are shielding each other.”
Newcombe looked so appalled that Murdoch couldn’t keep him in his misery much longer.
“I’m talking like a policeman, Vince. There are moments when you suspect everybody. Nevertheless, what you’re telling me might not be as irrelevant as you think. Damnation, this should have come out at the trial.”
“Will, it doesn’t change anything.”
“The jury might not have been as antagonistic towards Harry if they knew this about Delaney. Not quite such an upstanding Christian after all.”
Newcombe’s voice was kind. “They did know. They live here and there’s always been talk about him. But I must emphasize, I only found him with Nan one time. If that had come out, all it would have accomplished is several lives being dragged through the mud.”
“And as it stands, only one man’s life is getting all dirty. But a man who they didn’t know. How convenient.”
“Come on, Will. I can understand you being bitter, but so far you haven’t convinced me somebody other than your father killed John Delaney.”
There was a rap on the door and Lacey called. “Mr. Newcombe, are you done? Mr. Clarry wants to settle his bill.”
“I’ll be right there, Walter.” Newcombe turned. “I’d better get back.” He pressed Murdoch’s arm. “Sorry about all of this.”
He went to the door, unlocked it, and ushered Murdoch out into the hall. Lacey was waiting for them.
“Everything all right, Mr. Newcombe?”
“Yes, thank you, Walter. I was showing Mr. Williams the collection.”