Minor Corruption by Don Gutteridge Page B

contents of the
girl’s note had to be balanced against the questionable
“confession” of Betsy Thurgood. There was no way to prove that
Seamus was the father of her babe or that the five-pound note had
been provided for an abortion. Betsy had spoken his name; she had
obtained money from him; she had given that money to Mrs. Trigger;
Mrs Trigger was directly responsible for her death. Those were the
facts as they presently stood. No formal charge could be laid
against Seamus Baldwin or recommended to Magistrate Thorpe.
    Alas, Cobb was still at work when Thurgood
arrived promptly at seven o’clock. He should have been at home
eating a hearty supper, but Gussie French had been called away on
an emergency (his son had the mumps, it turned out) and by the time
he had got back, there was just time for Cobb to finish the report
and discuss it with the Chief. Cobb spotted the wiry little man
stomping up the walk, and ducked into the constables’ room. It was
the Chief’s job to deal with him.
    For a few minutes he heard nothing from the
office next door. Then he thought he could detect the drone of the
Chief’s voice – reading the report aloud, no doubt, to the
illiterate mill-hand. Then silence again. Then:
    “What! You’re gonna let that rapin’ bastard
get away with this!” Thurgood’s voice was already loud and tight
with rage. “You call that an investigation? The bastard says ‘no’
and you walk away believin’ him? My poor girl called out his name
on her death-bed! She swore to me and to God that Seamus Baldwin
raped her and put her in the family way! Let the bugger come inta
court and deny it. I won’t take anythin’ less!”
    “Please calm down, sir.”
    The two men were in the main room now,
visible to Cobb, who was beginning to feel like a coward for
stowing away from the fireworks. Thurgood was actually backing the
Chief up with the force of his anger, and Sturges was hobbling and
flinching as he retreated towards the door.
    Cobb came out. “You got complaints, sir, you
make ‘em to me . I was the fella that did the
investigatin’.”
    “He admitted he give her the abortion money!”
Thurgood shouted. His bold black eyes blazed and his sheaf of black
curls shuddered with each bob of his jaw. “She wrote them words
about lovin’ him in her letter. What more do you need? The man’s a
pervert. He oughta be gelded and then hung!”
    “There’s no proof,” Cobb said, coming between
Thurgood and Sturges. “It’s her word against his deny-all. And Mrs. Cobb is willin’ to swear that the girl’s words did not
sound like she was accusin’ him.”
    “But she’s yer wife ! A policeman’s
wife!”
    “She’s an honest woman and I’ll flatten the
man that says she ain’t!”
    Thurgood stepped around Cobb, jostled past
the Chief and strode to the door. He turned to face them. His anger
slowly evolved into a contemptuous sneer. “This ain’t the end of
this! I’m gonna go to the magistrate and bring my own suit against
that bigwig bastard. We’ll see what a jury of ordinary folk
thinks!”
    “That’s your right, Mr. Thurgood,” Sturges
said, wincing. “But that won’t change the evidence. All you’ll be
doin’ is draggin’ a gentleman’s name through the muck.”
    “And the magistrate may see it the same way
we did,” Cobb added.
    Thurgood’s sneer intensfied. “We’ll see about
that, won’t we? James Thorpe is a Tory and no friend of them
Reformers up at Spadina. And the Attorney-General is a Tory, too,
and a powerful man. They may not find the Baldwins as threatenin’
as you snivellin’ cowards do. So you can just waddle on up to
Spadina and let them know I’m gonna see justice done. And they’ll
be in the middle of it!”
    The door slammed and rattled.
    “He’ll cool off,” Sturges said, tipping
gingerly back into a chair.
    “I hope so,” Cobb said.
    ***
    Cobb went over to Baldwin House to see Robert, but
found Marc instead. As Robert was not arrived yet, Cobb