Minor Corruption by Don Gutteridge Page A

seemed too
large and heavy to be borne.
    “You aren’t putting any credence in
Thurgood’s charge, are you?” he said wearily when Cobb sat down
opposite him.
    Cobb did not take out his notebook. “We are
obligated to look into it, sir, that’s all.”
    “So you want to know if dear Betsy and I had
ever been lovers?” Uncle Seamus said with a fine edge to his
sarcasm.
    “ Somebody put a baby into her,” Cobb
said quietly.
    “Well, sir, it was not me. I loved that lass,
but as a parent. She was a lonely girl whose own father and mother
saw her merely as a cash-cow. She was very intelligent. She could
read and write. I gave her the run of the library. I made her laugh
– ” He could not continue. A held-back sob broke. He coughed it
away and, to Cobb’s embarrassment, looked up at him with tears
running down both of his scarlet cheeks.
    “So you are denyin’ you ever ‘interfered’
with the girl?”
    “I am, as God is my witness.”
    “Well, that’s a good start, then.”
    “A start?”
    “Yes. I need you to give me a causible explanation for this letter I found in Betsy’s bedroom.” He drew
the note from his pocket and handed it across to Uncle Seamus, who
read it through carefully.
    “Well, sir?”
    “It’s a thank-you note for the five pounds I
gave her last week.” His voice faltered as he added, “That’s her
handwriting.”
    “But you don’t understand, sir. That five
pounds was handed by Betsy to Mrs. Trigger, the abortionist. You give the girl abortion money.”
    “I did no such thing. She never told me she
was pregnant. If she had, none of this would have happened, I
guarantee you. She told me her mother had a tumour that needed to
be removed by a surgeon. Obviously, and sadly, she lied to me. But
I gave her the money for that purpose alone – and will swear to it,
if need be.”
    Cobb cleared his throat. “What do you make of
that ‘I love you’ business at the end of the letter?” he said
diffidently.
    For the first time anger showed in Uncle
Seamus’s eyes. “Good Christ, man, don’t you love your
children? Don’t they love you?”
    Cobb blushed, and the wart beside his left
nostril quivered. “I see what you mean, sir.”
    That burst of anger seemed to use up the last
reserves of the old man’s energy. His face, his entire body, just
sagged. “I’m awful tired,” he said, barely audible, and with that
he slumped against the table.
    Cobb went to the door and called for Robert.
Chalmers was right behind his master.
    “I’ll see to him, sir,” Chalmers said,
scowling at Cobb.
    Robert turned to Cobb. “This is a sorry
affair,” he sighed.
    “And I’m sorry fer upsettin’ the old gent,”
Cobb said. “But it was a useful conversation.”
    “You are satisfied he had nothing to do with
Betsy’s death?” Much relief was evident on Robert’s face.
    “He denies bein’ the father or in any way
approachin’ the girl improperly. And he had a perfectly logical
explanation for a letter I found from Betsy to him. As far as I can
see, it’s his word against the Thurgoods. And my Dora’ll swear the
girl was delirious to boot.”
    “Thank God. It’s time we let this matter lie.
For everybody’s sake.”
    “I agree, sir. Now I got to head back to
police quarters and dictate my report. Good day to you.”
    Robert shook Cobb’s hand and led him to the
front door. He didn’t know it, but it would be some time before
they would be able to shake hands like this again.
     
     

SIX
     
    Cobb had intended to be well away from police
quarters when Burton Thurgood arrived to read his report at seven
o’clock. Thurgood would find little in it to please him. Cobb had
dutifully recounted his interviews with Dora, Auleen, Burton
himself, and Seamus, and attached Betsy’s thank-you note. After
discussing the matter with Wilfrid Sturges, Cobb agreed with his
chief that the investigation had produced a stalemate. Seamus
Baldwin’s denial and plausible explanation for the