Don Gutteridge - Minor Corruption

“My father didn’t die right off,” Broomexplained, obviously flustered. “He sort of wasted away. I stayedon to help with the chores. They’ve got a farm, or had one.”

“I reckon yer complaint has somethin’ to dowith Toronto?” Cobb said helpfully.

“Yeah, it does. You see a little while afterI started in at the mill yesterday, I heard stories from the otherfellows, Joe Mullins and Sol Clift, about somethin’ terrible thathappened while I was away.”

Cobb swallowed hard – again. “I see.” And hewas beginning to.

“They told me what happened to BetsyThurgood.”

“We know all about that. There was aninquest. We’re lookin’ fer Elsie Trigger, the woman who did Betsyin.”

“I was shocked to hear of it. We all knewBetsy. She brought her pa’s lunch around to him every day sheworked. Made special for him by Mrs. Morrisey up at Spadina.” Hisround eyes watered. “There was always extra, and we got to sampleit.”

“So everybody up there knew Betsy?”

Jake Bloom blushed. “Only to say hello, andtease her a bit. She never stayed. Her pa was real strict with her.And us.”

“Naturally,” Cobb said nicely, but he wasgrowing weary of this meandering tale. “Have you or haven’t you gotsomethin’ to tell us that pertains to the matter?”

“In a roundabout way, I do.”

“Then spill it, son. I ain’t got all day andmy left foot’s asleep.”

Broom would not be hurried. Whatever he wasleading to it appeared to be too terrible to tell outright. “I wenthome last night a very worried man. You see, I saw somethin’ awhile ago, somethin’ I should have reported right away, but word ofmy dad’s illness came that same day and I had no choice but to goto him and I couldn’t be absolutely sure of what I’d seen or if itwas important or – ”

“Okay, slow down now. Just tell me, slow andcareful, what you saw and let me be the judge of what’s importantor not important.”

Broom paused to catch his breath and brush anearlier tear off his cheek. “All right. What I saw happened at thebeginning of last August, Saturday the third. I remember because Iheard about my dad late that afternoon and the day before we hadthat little tornado go through the township, remember?”

Cobb nodded, confused himself now. This couldnot involve Betsy, surely, and yet the long lead-up to the climaxof the tale pointed in that direction.

“It was just after lunch time. Betsy broughther pa’s lunch, as usual. And left. The lunch broke up early, assome of us had special things to do. One of Mr. Whittle’s horseshad been poorly that mornin’ and my extra job was to take care ofthe animals, so I went out to the barn, which is a hundred yards orso from the mill. I saw to the horse, who was fine, and was headin’out the back way when I passed an empty stall. At least it shouldabeen empty.”

“But it wasn’t?”

“No.” Broom blushed again, the rednessexaggerated by his beardless, plump cheeks. “There was two peoplein it.”

Cobb waited while Broom gathered more breathand tried to find a voice that would bear the burden of hiswords.

“A man and a woman. A girl.”

Cobb braced himself. “Go on. Please.”

“They were goin’ at it. You know, like a -”

“Man and a woman?”

“Yeah. Like that.”

“You could see all this?”

“Plain as day, though I was at the doorway,lookin’ back. I was maybe twenty feet away and there wasn’t a lotof light. But I could see plain enough.”

“And you recognized this couple?”

“I knew the girl was Betsy. I could only seeher legs, up in the air, sort of wavin’ about and her thin littlearms.” More tears threatened to halt this grim account.

“Take yer time. Try a deep breath.” Cobbhimself was finding it harder to breathe.

“I’m okay. I gotta tell this. I knew it wasBetsy ‘cause her blue gingham dress, the one she’d had on when shecome into the office earlier, was draped over the side of thestall. And I could see bits of her yellow apron down in thestraw.”

So, Cobb thought vaguely, the girl had beenraped, literally. Two months ago.

“But you couldn’t see who the man was, I takeit?”

“Not right on. All I could see was his legsand his rear end. He was bareback and his trousers were around hisankles and hidden in the straw.”

“So you couldn’t tell what they were like?Their colour or kind?”

“No.”

“But?” Cobb said, knowing there was more, anddreading it.

“But what I did see, as his head came up anddown, up and down, was his great bushel of whitish hair, fluffed upand stickin’ out like a stook of oats.”

Cobb could restrain himself no longer. “Whatdid you do? Shout out? Run forward to scare him off? You didn’tjust stand there, did ya, and try to figure out which of yer mateshad big white hair?”

Broom dropped his eyes. He was trembling. “Irun,” he said, barely above a whisper.

“Jesus, a little girl is gettin’ raped bysome old guy right in front of you, and you run ?”

Broom looked up, as bewildered perhaps as hehad been on that August afternoon. “I ran to get help. I didn’t runaway. I should’ve shouted, but I was afraid he’d get up and – ”

“Run after you?”

“Yes, I’m ashamed to say. But I did runacross to the mill office to fetch Mr. Whittle, but he wasn’t inthe office. I remembered then that he and Burton’d gone down to fixthe sluice in the weir. Joe and Sol must’ve been in the mill, butthey wouldn’t have heard a horn blowin’ next to them.”

“So what did you do?”

“I ran back to the barn.”

“And?”

Broom hung his head again. “Nobody was there.The stall was empty. I looked behind the barn but I couldn’t see asoul.”

“Surely you reported what you saw to Mr.Whittle?” Cobb asked, but he already knew the answer.

“I was gonna do that. But then I wondered ifhe would believe me. I went into the stall, but they’d left nothin’behind. And if I was wrong about the man I figured I saw on top ofBetsy, then I’d be in deep trouble. I live with Joe Mullins’sfamily, and I thought I’d tell Mr. Mullins that night when I gothome, and take his advice. But when I got home, word was waitin’about my father dyin’. After that I couldn’t think of anythin’else. Joe went to see Mr. Whittle fer me, and I left for PortTalbot early the next mornin’.”

“You know who that rapist was even though younever saw his face?”

“As certain as I can be. I saw that it was ashort man, from the thin legs and buttocks, and probably old. ButI’d know that big sheaf of white hair anywhere. I saw it at apicnic we had up at Spadina in July.”

Cobb knew what was coming but that didn’tease of force of it.

“It was Seamus Baldwin. He raped BetsyThurgood.”

***

They were in Wilfrid Sturges’ office – Cobb, Broomand the Chief. Cobb summarized what Broom had told him in order tosave the young man from further stress. Sturges listened withgrowing concern and then outright anxiety, for he too saw where thestory was going to end.

“And you’ll swear to all this, son?” was hisinitial response. “In a statement written and signed?”

“It is my duty, sir.”

“Indeed it is. But you realize that you’reaccusin’ a gentleman from a prominent family of a horrificcrime?”

“I do.”

“And that your eye-witness testimony, delayedover two months, is based on identification through a man’shair?”

“And his size, sir.”

“A man you yourself saw on only oneoccasion?”

“Yes, sir. But it was at a picnic. And SeamusBaldwin entertained us with a ventriloquist’s act. His hair isalmost pure white and it’s like a big puffball. I’ve never seenanythin’ else like it.”