Solemn Vows by Don Gutteridge

several ways of responding to that question, depending, I suppose, on who’s asking it and why. I infer from your presence here that the governor is concerned about the effect it might have upon the elections.”
    “That, of course, as well as the importance of finding the killer.”
    “Rumour has it that the shooter was an ex- patriot American with a grudge or an empty larder.”
    “Rumour is reasonably accurate, for a change.”
    It was Mackenzie’s turn to smile. Then his chiselledfeatures took on a grave, almost sorrowful, cast. He brushed his wig back unconsciously with his right hand. “A rumour like that could do irreparable harm to the Reform cause in this election. As you know, the governor is stumping the constituencies and playing up the loyalty theme. The murder of one of his hand- picked councillors by a crazed democrat from the States would play to the paranoia out there and make credible the preposterous claim that the Yanks are mustering for imminent invasion.”
    “Which is why the governor wants this man found,” Marc insisted.
    Mackenzie gave Marc a narrow, appraising glance. “I think you do believe that, lad.”
    “But surely, sir, you see that, crazed or not, if this killer were hired, he could have been recruited by anyone with a reason to do away with Councillor Moncreiff—including someone from his own, ah—”
    “—class?”
    “Or party … which might suggest to the electorate that the Compact and the Tories do not have their own house in order.”
    “Yes, I do see.” Mackenzie began drumming his fingers on the desk, rustling the papers scattered there. “Are you sure you’ve chosen the right profession, Lieutenant?”
    “What I am leading towards, sir, is the question of who might have reason to have Councillor Moncreiff assassinated?”
    “Well, then, I’ll save you and Sir Francis some time by stating here and now and unequivocally that no one in the Reform party and no one remotely interested in its welfare would have hired an assassin or shot the old fellow himself.”
    “But there must have been resentment and some bitterness among Reformers when Sir Francis replaced the protesting councillors with even more unpalatable members? Could a Reform sympathizer, albeit temporarily deranged, have hired an assassin to publicly eliminate one of those new councillors, as a message or a warning to the governor himself?”
    Mackenzie gave the question some thought. “Deranged he would have to be, but, yes, it is possible. However, in such a case, Moncreiff could only have been a symbolic target. The old codger had no status as a politician or as a mover and shaker. Remember that Ignatius Maxwell was seated on the same bench as Moncreiff, according to the eyewitness reports my compositors are just now setting to type. If the motive were practical revenge, then that grasping fraud would have been singled out, not Moncreiff.”
    Marc shuddered. How many of the spectators present at Danby’s Crossing yesterday had already relayed their biased accounts of the events there to the radical press? But if Mackenzie had heard details of Crazy Dan’s death at the hands of a less than competent British troop, he had decided not to bring it up. Or perhaps the complicity of Alvin Chambers, one of their own, had given the farmers somepause before spreading the story abroad. But the details, twisted beyond all recognition, would come out eventually and the governor’s crude attempt to smooth over their ugliness would soon become part of the campaign rhetoric.
    Emerging from his momentary reverie, Marc said, “I think you’re implying that the ‘message’ was more likely intended for Sir Francis?”
    Mackenzie appeared shocked. “If that is so, then it is profoundly regrettable. The lieutenant- governor is the representative of the Crown.”
    Marc hesitated, took a deep breath, and said quietly, “But you are accused everywhere, even by some of your own supporters, of being an ardent