Governing Passion by Don Gutteridge

crimes are in Devil’s Acre,
sir.”
    “And Devil’s Acre is full of respectable
people every night of the week! No, Cobb, you’ve got two murders on
your hands. I want you to pursue John Kray for Sally Butts’s
murder. He’s just the type of person to go off the deep end when
jilted. Get a warrant and search that house for a knife and a
glove.”
    “I’ve also got a gentleman’s scarf I found
near the second scene with a ‘P’ on it,” Cobb said stubbornly.
    Bagshaw’s gaze narrowed. “I know what you’re
thinking, Cobb. I don’t want you near Pugh again. You’ve bothered
him enough, and you disobeyed me by seeing him without making an
appointment.”
    “I was thinkin’ of interviewin’ Simon
Whitemarsh, sir. He was at the brothel last night and left about
midnight. He might’ve seen somethin’.”
    “There you go again! You’re obsessed with
gentlemen! That place is crawling with low-life and you’ve got to
pursue proper people.”
    “Are you sayin’ I can’t talk to
Whitemarsh?”
    “Oh, go ahead. But I want Kray pursued, do
you hear? And I expect the house-to-house to turn up something
useful, considering the extra help I’m giving you. Now get out of
here!”
    Cobb was more than happy to leave.
    ***
    While Rossiter and Wilkie took the description of
the killer and went house to house in the area of each of the
crimes, Cobb got a search warrant from Magistrate Thorpe and went
to Kray’s cottage. Mrs. Kray answered the door, and was not pleased
to see the warrant Cobb brandished.
    “You won’t find anything here, Cobb,” Kray
said, trying to calm his mother. Cobb spent the next hour
fruitlessly searching the Kray cottage. He felt foolish and very
annoyed with Bagshaw. It was so clear that the crimes were
connected and that Kray had no motive whatsoever for killing Sarie
Hickson.
    “My son was home here all last night,” Mrs.
Kray said in response to Cobb’s question. “From suppertime till
breakfast.”
    Cobb wasn’t surprised. He hoped, however, to
be surprised by the house-to-house inquiry. When he got back to the
station, however, he learned that no-one in Devil’s Acre had seen
or heard anything. It was as if they had all been struck deaf and
dumb. Fortunately the Chief was not there to hear the bad news: he
had been summoned to the Mayor’s office upstairs. Cobb decided to
go and beard Whitemarsh – without an appointment.
    Simon Whitemarsh answered his own door.
    “I’m Constable Cobb.”
    “I remember you, sir. What do you want?
You’ve come at a very bad time.”
    Cobb took a good look at Whitemarsh, whom he
remembered from Madame LaFrance’s place as being a pasty-faced,
soft-fleshed character with sleepy eyes. But the man before him was
quite flushed, as if he had been drinking, with bright red spots on
each of his cheeks. And his eyes were stark and staring, as if
highlighted by kohl, with an unnatural brightness to them. Perhaps
he had been taking opium.
    “I’d like to ask you a few questions,” Cobb
said.
    “About Sarie Hickson’s death, I presume?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “All right, then, come in. I can spare you
five minutes.”
    “You live here alone?” Cobb said as he
entered the vestibule.
    “My mother shares the house. The servants are
all out, as it happens.”
    Whitemarsh did not move any farther into the
house, so Cobb removed his helmet and said, “You were at Madame
LaFrance’s last night?”
    “You know I was.”
    “I been told, yes, but I needed to hear it
from you.”
    “I was there until about midnight.”
    “When you left fer home?”
    “That’s right.”
    “Did you go straight home?”
    “I did. I go south to St. James and King
Street.”
    “Did you hear or see anythin’ unusual in the
vicinity of the brothel?”
    “Nothing. It was very quiet.”
    “Except fer the murder of Miss Hickson, which
must have happened only yards away from where you were shortly
after midnight.”
    “I’m sorry to hear of her death, but