This One Only Goes To Ten: Part Ten
At first, Mr Ezekiel Dart had sat on the hard, wooden chair in a relaxed manner. His well cut, hand-made suit and immaculate white shirt had remained intact, despite his somewhat rough capture.
He was sat at a small table. The bare room was lit by one bright light that was strategically positioned overhead. The edges of the room were hidden by shadows but he was aware that there were at least two police officers standing close by. He had attempted to make polite conversation with his roommates, but all forms of banter had been ignored.
After nearly half an hour, it was evident that his composure was beginning to slip; he began to toy with the solid gold cufflink on the right sleeve of his shirt; he was not used to being kept waiting. He shuffled in his seat in an effort to dispel the numb feeling that was slowly creeping up his legs.
Suddenly, the door was thrust open and in strode a gruff looking Brackenreid. Without giving Dart an opportunity to speak, he grasped the chair opposite him and sat down. He seemed somewhat apprehensive.
" Mr Dart, Sir, I am so sorry, but what can I say?" He stared earnestly. Dart, keen to avoid any further confrontation, simply opened his hands as if to imply complete ignorance as to why he was there.
"It's just procedure, you know how it is." Brackenreid informed him. He was using affected Standard English, again. More quietly, has said, almost in a whisper, "tell you what, I've got a lovely bit of whiskey on my desk." He glanced slyly towards the door he had just entered. Learning in closer he continued, "How about a quick glass? It's an excellent malt. " His conspiratorial tone suggested that it was some form of an apology for the recent turn in events, one that he only offered his more distinguished suspects.
Dart smiled, appreciative of the Inspector's efforts.
"Don't you worry." He replied. "If we could just get on and get this sorted out…"
Brackenreid nodded in agreement and sat upright in his chair, indicating a more formal procedure was about to take place.
"Quite right!" He announced. "Just a few questions; we'll clear this up in no time."
Just then, the door opened again and Crabtree entered. He nodded at Dart and sat down on the vacant seat next to Brackenreid. He took out his notebook, rummaged in his pocket for a pencil and carefully lined them up on the table.
"Right, shall we start?" Brackenreid asked, seeming a little annoyed at his colleague's officious actions. And without waiting for a response he continued. " I'm sure you have a rational explanation, but it turns out 'Candida' was cancelled; The Grand has been cautious ever since the fire they had last year; did you hear about it?" Again, without waiting for a reply, he asked, " So, where exactly were you earlier this evening?"
For the first time, Dart looked shaken. Meanwhile, Crabtree dutifully retrieved his notebook from the table, turned to an empty page and picked up the pencil. He was poised to begin.
"Inspector, I will tell you. But it's somewhat …delicate." He indicated the any written evidence of their conversation would result in a less than honest account. Brackenreid swept his hand over Crabtree's writing apparel, sending it flying back onto the table. Crabtree looked suitably injured, but the gesture was enough to reassure Dart that anything he said was 'just between them.'
"Don't you worry Sir. If it has no bearing on the case, the details will not leave this room." Brackenreid turned to Crabtree who quickly acquiesced.
"Well, it was like this…" Dart moved forward in his chair. " I did go to The Grand, as I said earlier. However, you are quite right…the show was cancelled. I confess, I was more than a little disappointed; it was supposed to be one of the highlights of my trip. I do so enjoy Bernard Shaw."
Crabtree interjected," Have you seen The Importance of Being Earnest? It is excellent!" Before he could control himself he exclaimed, 'In a handbag!' in the best Lady Bracknell styled voice he could.
Dart sniggered a little and complimented him on his impression. Meanwhile, Brackenreid issued Crabtree with another firm stare. Understanding the Inspector's disapproval, he hastily motioned an apology.
"Err, so, what d'ya do after instead?" Brackenreid inquired, momentarily losing his poise and his affected accent.
Dart moved in a little closer and looked a little uneasy again.
"Well, a single man in a city like this," he continued even more quietly, " I did what any other full blooded male would do." He eyed his two inquisitors, seeking not only acknowledgement of the meaning of his confession but a masculine understanding of his actions.
Brackenreid nodded and intimated he had a full comprehension. Crabtree stared open eyed.
" I see." He said, "I now know why you didn't want to say anything earlier. Would ruin the relationship with your wife! Eh? Where did you go?"
Dart continued warily.
"Oh no, I'm not married… It's just that I have my social reputation ...I have business connections to consider. As to where we went…that, I'm afraid, is the difficult part." His cheeks flushed deep red. "I met some gentlemen when we were sharing a balcony at the show; they too are in Toronto on business. When the show was cancelled, we all left to who knows where… strangers together in a strange city as it were. The weather was so awful; three of us got in the cab whilst one man, he was called Arthur, spoke with the driver… I have absolutely no idea where we went."
Dart looked dismayed at his own lack of knowledge.
"Ok then. Who were you with, Arthur what?"
"That's the other thing…I didn't ask. I can tell you their first names but that's it." He shrugged dejectedly.
Where did they go, after you'd finished… well, you know…"
"Again, I know… this is beginning to sound terrible!" Dart laughed nervously, as if he was starting to see how ludicrous his situation was becoming. "We all shared a cab back, I got out first at my hotel; I have no idea where they were going to next." He looked at Brackenreid, as if pleading with him to offer some sort of solution to the predicament he was finding himself in.
Brackenreid ruminated for a moment; he too was struggling.
Crabtree, who had also been thinking for some time, asked firmly,
"Why have you come to Toronto? What line of business are you in?"
Dart relaxed a little, relieved at the change of direction in the questioning.
"Oh, I'll try and keep a long story short!" He smiled and sat back in his chair." My father is a very wealthy man…he has made millions from industrial innovations. He's quite cleaned up, as you might say!" He now had an enraptured audience. "However, he's not really a family man, never has been; far too interested in money for that." He added bitterly, "He invents things, but he also destroys people. Many people have lost their jobs because of his labour saving devices; he does not give them, or the poverty he is creating, a second thought."
He paused to think for a second before he continued. "My mother raised my sister and I. And, although you would think we had everything we wanted… my father has never been generous with his wealth. As I have refused to go into the family business, he has done his best to cut me off financially." He stopped and looked mournfully at his listeners.
"I could not go into a business that would only exacerbate poverty, and all the problems it brings…I want to make my mark on society… but not the way my father does. I want to do something good; I would love to prove to my father that I can make something out of myself, even without his help." This time there was no doubting the animosity in his voice. Brackenreid understood it was not about eradicating poverty and its problems at all.
"Anyway, " Dart continued more enthusiastically, "I have forged a partnership with a doctor who lives here in Toronto; we have plans, big plans, to eradicate one of the most killer diseases of our time." At this his eyes lit up and passion seeped into every bone in his body.
Brackenreid was spellbound, so too was Crabtree.
"Surely your father will give you some money, if' it's going to be such a life saving venture."
Dart laughed bitterly again.
"As I said Inspector, my father has no philanthropic desires; he wants to make money, not give it away. "
Following a moment's silence, Crabtree inquired, "who is this doctor you're going to be working with?"
"He has an excellent reputation, perhaps you know him... It's Doctor Darcy Garland."
Both listeners were taken aback. They stared, open mouthed, as if they had just been informed all their worldly possessions had been swept away in a freak tidal wave.
"I can see, from the look on both of your faces, that his reputation precedes him." Dart concluded with a flamboyant grin.