Solemn Vows Read Online Free PDF Page B

which gave her a plausible excuse for waving her hanky about. “No, no, you won’t find anything in that direction. And even though Chastity and I have seen little of him and his wife Flora in the past few years—now that’s another story and one that has no bearing on the dreadful events of thisday—I did know him very well in his youth. And it is my considered view that Langdon could never work up an opinion strong enough to make a monkey fart, let alone a decent enemy or two. Now if it’d been my Ignatius shot, God forbid, I could’ve given you a dozen names.”
    When Marc looked shocked at this, she added with relish, “How else do you think the man got rich and feared by lesser men?”
    “Mother, please stop. You’re overwrought.”
    Prudence turned to her daughter, squinted grotesquely, as if she had momentarily lost her sight or had failed to recognize the young woman across from her. Marc saw now that she was very drunk, but just as he stepped over to offer her some assistance, she winched her eyes wide open and leered up at him. Her voice was a loud slur: “Hell, honey, I ain’t been wrought over in a long, long time.”
    Chastity was up instantly, her tears forgotten. “I’ll call Mrs. Danby and the maids,” she said briskly to Marc. “We’ve got to get her to a bed. Our coach arrives in less than an hour.”
    “You’ll be all right?”
    “I’m used to it.”
    M ARC WAS SEATED on the front bench of the hustings exactly where he had been sitting when Moncreiff was shot. The platform was no more than four feet above ground.And though Moncreiff had been snoozing upright in the second row, he could have been seen by any marksman at or above the level of the hustings floor. Luke Bethel out at Crazy Dan’s cabin had claimed the shot had come from the other side of the square, which must mean the eastern side. The boardwalk that surrounded the square was a foot high, and at least a dozen people had been standing on benches in front of the shops: that extra elevation could have been enough. If so, then anyone near the general store, the livery stables, the blacksmith’s, or the harness shop—or in the alleyways in between—might be a witness. He would need to question every merchant and tradesman who had been standing within or near their shops at the time of the shooting. Even then, the presence of so many strangers could easily make any interrogation fruitless. Add to the mix the probability that ninety per cent of the onlookers were Reform sympathizers who would be disinclined to answer questions from military investigators about the death of a Tory.
    While Marc was willing to take Prudence Maxwell’s dismissive description of her brother-in-law at face value, she was unlikely to know much about his political or financial affairs—or his personal peccadilloes for that matter. Like it or not, he would have to probe into the man’s life in a manner that was sure to enrage the power-brokers in the Family Compact (of which Moncreiff was a nominal member) and ruffle feathers just about everywhere else.
    “Would you care for a smoke?” Angus Withers sat down beside Marc and offered him a cigar similar to the one he was puffing on.
    “No, thank you.”
    “I find a good smoke helps me think. Either that or it just anaesthetizes the thought processes to the point where I don’t give a damn any more.”
    “I wanted to ask you, Dr. Withers, about the wound, if you don’t mind.”
    “That’s why I came out. The ladies and I—well, only one of them can be legitimately termed so—have to be off for Yonge Street in half an hour.”
    “What was the angle of entry? It might help me determine the vantage point of the shooter.”
    “Unless the poor devil was lying sideways on his bench—”
    “He wasn’t. He was dozing, but otherwise perfectly upright.”
    “Then the bullet struck him just under the right shoulder, broke through a couple of ribs, ripped out his lungs, and exited through the