Don Gutteridge - Minor Corruption

“Let’s begin, sir, with you tellin’ me aboutthis lunch-hour business.”

“Well, Betsy’d worked on special occasions upat Spadina since she was twelve. She’d become a favourite up there,and whenever she did work, Mrs. Morrisey, the cook, made Burton aspecial lunch and Betsy was allowed to bring it down here.”

“When did she start permanent up there?”

“About a week before the day we’re talkin’about. Then she come here regular, every noon.”

“Okay. Now tell me what went on here -startin’ with Betsy’s arrival.”

Whittle tweaked his right ear nervously, asif it might jar his memory. “That’s a while ago, but I rememberbecause of the spill and the fuss in the forenoon and the fact thatBetsy didn’t bring her father’s food here fer three or four daysafter that. When she did come back, she just said she’d been sick.I never dreamed – ”

“Did she seem her usual self then?”

“Well now, as far as I could tell, yes. Wealways teased her a bit about workin’ fer the swells up at Spadinaand she always had a shy little laugh.”

“On the third, a Saturday, who all was inthis room havin’ their eats?”

“All of us. The usual bunch, that is: me,Burton, Sol, Joe and Jake. I recollect because it took all five ofus to clean up old Dennis’s mess. I got blisters on my blistersthat day.”

“How long did Betsy stay?”

“I couldn’t swear to it after all this time,but she never stayed more’n ten minutes. And she always arrivedright on the strike of twelve. There’s a path through the woodsfrom here all the way through to Spadina.”

“I see. And you lease this mill property fromthe Baldwins?”

“I do. They own all the land hereabouts. ButI got a fifty-year lease. That’ll see me out.”

“And they own Trout Creek as well?”

A faint blush reddened Whittle’s cheeksbetween the freckles, and his round, friendly eyes narrowedslightly. “Every drop of water and blade of grass.”

“So let’s say, then, that Betsy arrives atnoon and leaves at ten after twelve.” Cobb jotted the time down inhis notebook. “Did you see her cross the road and head into thebush – direct?”

Whittle paused to think this over. “I don’tbelieve she did. But Sol Clift might be able to help you there. Hemade some remark about it, I think. But I can’t rememberexactly.”

“So all five of you were here when she left,and you stayed to finish yer eats. How long did that take?”

“The men have an hour for their lunch. Butabout twelve-thirty that day, Burton Thurgood and me left to goupstream to repair the sluice at the weir.”

“That the tornado damaged?”

“That’s right. We’d started cuttin’ andfittin’ some new logs that mornin’, but had to stop and help cleanup the spilled grain.”

“So you was anxious to get back there?”

“We were.”

“How long were you there?”

“Oh, I couldn’t say fer sure. But there wastwo or three hours work there.”

“And you and Thurgood were together?”

“The whole time.”

Well, Cobb thought, that jibes with what JakeBroom swore to. When he got back to the office to report the rapeto Whittle, the miller had already gone. But where was Betsy fromtwelve-ten to twelve-thirty? Already in the barn beingassaulted?

“And you saw or heard nothin’ unusual whileyou was workin’ up there?”

Whittle thought about this. “No,nothin’.”

“Could you see the barn from the weir?”

“No, there’s a clump of trees between‘em.”

“All right, thank you. Now please bring inMr. Mullins.”

Joe Mullins was ushered in, and Whittle wasbanished to a bench in the storage room next door. Mullins wasabout twenty-five years of age, of medium build, fair-skinned butwell-tanned – with dark red hair slicked down. He looked nervousbut not frightened.

Cobb gave him a brief account of what mighthave happened in the barn on August the third, and noted the lookof genuine horror that crept into his face.

“Not our Betsy? Not here?”

“We have reason to believe so, but I need toknow where everybody was and what they were doin’ that noon hourand just after.”

The tornado, damaged weir and grain spill hada salutary effect on the young man’s memory. Cobb was pleased tosee that he did not view himself as a suspect during theinterrogation.

“Betsy left at her usual time. Just beforehalf-past, the boss and Burton left to fix the weir. I left aboutfive minutes later to go fer a stroll and a smoke.”

“What direction did you go in?”

“Not towards the barn, which is just north ofhere. I always go southwards down to the ravine where the creekmakes a big turn. It’s peaceful down there. And there’s a troutpool – a good one, though we’re forbidden to angle. The Baldwinskeep the trout fer themselves.”

There was no real resentment in Mullins’remark, just an acknowledgement of how things are. “So you just hada smoke?”

“My pipe, yes.”

“Did you see or hear anythin’ unusual?”

After a brief pause, Mullins said, “Notreally. Old Seamus Baldwin was down there, but he often is. He’s akeen angler.”

Cobb almost swallowed his tongue. UncleSeamus was here on that day! Not a hundred yards from thebarn. When he could get his thoughts aligned again, Cobb said, “Andhe was fishin’?”

“Come to think of it, he wasn’t. He was justwalkin’ up and down. He didn’t see me as I’d finished my pipe andgone to rest fer a bit in the grass. Then I went back up to themill and started work fer the afternoon – about five to one orso.”

Cobb thanked him and waved him to thestoreroom. Looking both worried and chagrined, Whittle obedientlywent back into the mill and called for Sol Clift.

Clift was a tall, gangly chap of some thirtyyears, nearly bald, and so thin he was almost skeletal, except forthe bands of muscle built up after some dozen years in agrist-mill. He had big puppy eyes that stared at you withoutblinking. Cobb thought he might be a little on the “slow” side.When Cobb filled him in on why he was here, the shock of theapparent rape registered sharply in his face, and the big eyeswatered.

“Not our little Betsy?” he breathed.

“It looks so, lad. Now you can help me catchthe bugger that did it by answering my questions carefully.”

Sol corroborated much of what Whittle andMullins had reported, adding that Jake Broom had left about tenminutes before one o’clock to see to the sick horse, and then hehimself had gone back into the mill.

“How far away would you say the barn was fromhere?” Cobb asked him.

“Oh, about a hundred yards or so. You couldget there from here in a minute or two.”

“Now one last thing. Mr. Whittle mentionedthat you might have seen which way Betsy went when she lefthere.”

Clift dabbed at his eyes. “I was sittin’ overthere, where I always do. I like to look out the window. That dayBetsy didn’t go straight across the road as she was supposed to.”He hung his head.

“Where would she go?”

He peered up, abashed. “I seen her go pastthe window. She smiled at me and put a finger to her lips.” Thepain of that memory was etched on his face.

“Headin’ north?”

“Yeah. Up towards the barn.”

Cobb’s heart skipped a beat. “The barn?”

“She liked to look at the horses. And theShetland pony Mr. Whittle keeps as a pet. She brung them apples andcarrots. I promised her I’d never tell on her ‘cause her fatherwouldn’t like her not goin’ straight back to Spadina. But it won’tmatter now, will it?”

“No, it won’t. But it may help me catch theculprit.”

Cobb struggled to keep his excitement incheck. His fingers trembled as he jotted down the key times andmovements: he did not want to rely exclusively on his prodigiousmemory. So far he had reliable and corroborated testimony thatBetsy Thurgood had in fact been in that barn, possibly fromtwelve-fifteen until the rape occurred. If Jake Broom left the milloffice a few minutes before one – say, ten to the hour – then hewould have reached the barn and observed the rape-in-progress justbefore one. Seamus Baldwin, who was looking more and more like theguilty party, was spotted by Joe Mullins lurking a few minutes awaynear Trout Creek shortly after the half-hour. Then Mullins driftedaway, giving Baldwin enough time to slip up through the bush to thebarn and discover Betsy feeding the horses. As her confidant atSpadina, he might know of her passion for the animals and expect tofind her near them. The rape might well have begun abouttwelve-fifty or so and been near completion when Jake Broom cameupon it. Cobb took a few minutes to complete his notes.