Don Gutteridge - Minor Corruption

Nonetheless, at noon, he returned to theChief’s office – Sturges was home ill – and sat there for half anhour going over all his interviews and the testimony he had, as washis custom, automatically memorized. When the solution came itstruck him like a tornado on a house of straw. He shouted, “I’vegot it!” so loudly that Gussie French’s pen jabbed into thedocument he was writing on and its ink spurted up onto hischin.

Cobb was now sure how the crime had beencommitted. And he knew what he had to do – quickly.

***

At three o’clock the Crown called Dr. WilliamBaldwin as its final witness. At Baldwin House there had been muchdiscussion and more speculation about what the Crown was up to. Dr.Baldwin, perhaps the city’s most illustrious and beloved citizen,seemed as puzzled as anyone else. And, Marc noticed, there lurkedin him some uncharacteristic unease, anxiety even.

Dr. Baldwin was sworn in. If it was possiblefor the onlookers to be any more riveted than they had heretoforebeen, it was now.

Cambridge began by waving a sheet of paper inthe air. “Milord, I have here a letter which I would like to enterinto evidence as Exhibit C.”

The clerk brought the letter to the judge,who had already read it. He nodded and it was returned toCambridge. Marc, too, had read it a few minutes before, and couldnot yet see its relevance. But he was certainly worried.

“This letter,” Cambridge continued, “is dateda month ago and is addressed to Bishop Strachan of this city. Itlay unopened for over a week, having got lost among the Bishop’smany papers. It was read by the Bishop only this morning. He haskindly attested to these facts.”

“Carry on, then,” said the judge.

“The letter was written by one D’Arcy Boylan,a prominent barrister in the City of Cork, Ireland.”

The Baldwin clan, including of course UncleSeamus, were from the Cork region of Ireland. Marc held hisbreath.

“It is addressed to Bishop Strachan. I wouldask the witness to read aloud only that part I have marked with apencil.”

The letter was taken to Dr. Baldwin. The lookof concern on his face had deepened. He read:

Some disturbing news, Bishop. The story aboutSeamus Baldwin

retiring because of a nervous breakdown turnsout not to be true.

It seems the fellow was entangled in somesort of scandal that

was hushed up by his law partners. I shallkeep probing for the

details, which you might find useful in thefuture.

Dr. Baldwin finished and stared hard at theprosecutor. But the letter was quivering in his hand.

***

Cobb walked up to Frederick Street and knocked atthe door of Wilfrid Sturges’ house. His wife showed Cobb through tothe little den, where the stricken man lay suffering. However, whatCobb had to tell roused him considerably. He readily approvedCobb’s absenting himself from the trial and gave him carteblanche to carry out the further investigation he had sketchedout for his mightily impressed chief.

Cobb rented a buggy from Frank’s livery anddrove straight up to Whittle’s mill. Neither the miller nor any ofhis crew had been in the courtroom this morning, so Cobb wascertain they would all have returned to work. He found Whittle inhis office. He came right to the point.

“Sir, did you ever employ Tim Thurgood,Burton’s son?”

“What’re you doin’ pokin’ about in thisbusiness now?” Whittle said, his natural cheerfulness disrupted bythis unexpected visit from the police.

“That’s fer me to decide, sir. Please answermy question.”

“That’s easy. He never worked here.”

“Where did he work, then?”

“At Getty’s farm. It’s just up the road. Youpassed it on your way here. But he ain’t there now. He run off toget married.”

“I see. And he never come back here tovisit?”

“I don’t like tellin’ tales outta school,”Whittle said, indicating that he never missed a chance to do justthat, “but father and son didn’t see eye to eye. It’s common,alas.”

“Thanks fer yer time.”

At the door, Cobb turned and said, “How’s thefishin’ up at the trout pool there above yer dam?”

Whittle looked puzzled but replied happilyenough. “Tryin’ to catch me out, are ya?” he laughed.

“Catchin’ you out at what?”

“Poachin’, of course.”

“Ya mean ya can’t use them two great troutpools no more?”

“Not since the old uncle come last summer. Ibeen forbidden on pain of losin’ my lease.”

“I always thought the Baldwins wereeasygoing?”

“Oh, they are. But that uncle loves hisanglin’ and he prefers to angle alone.”

“Well, Whittle, that uncle may not be aroundmuch longer, eh?”

Whittle gave a wary chuckle and watched Cobbhead for his buggy. Cobb had got what he had come for, and more. Heheaded off now to find the Getty farm. He found it exactly whereWhittle had directed him. A young fellow was repairing asnake-fence on the driveway into the farm. Cobb hailed him.

“What can I do for you, constable?” The ladhad a kind, generous face but looked wary just the same.

“You was a good friend of young Tim Thurgood,I hear,” Cobb said, stretching the truth a little.

“We were mates, yes. But Tim’s married nowand nobody’s seen him since.”

“So I was told. What I need to know is wherehe is now.”

“He never told me where he and Marian weregoin’. He doesn’t want anybody to know.”

“Didn’t get along with Papa, I hear.”

“That’s right. Tim just wants to be leftalone.”

“I can’t imagine he’d not tell his bestfriend where he’d got to.”

“Well, he didn’t.” The Getty lad glanced downjust enough for Cobb to be sure he was lying.

“Son – ”

“Will. The name’s Will Getty.”

“Will, a man’s life depends on me findin’ TimBurton before tonight. If he’s anywhere near Toronto, you’ve gottatell me.”

“But he made me promise. I can’t let him getinto any trouble.”

“He’s not in any trouble, son. You have myword on that. But he has information in a life-and-death trial nowgoin’ on in the city. Without his help an innocent man’ll perish inprison.”

Will Getty hesitated but, in the end, he gavein.

***

“What do you make of that paragraph, Dr. Baldwin?”Neville Cambridge said with disingenuous relish.

“Sounds like rumour-mongering to me,” Dr.Baldwin said forcefully, but the unease showed plainly in his eyes.“The Irish have been known to indulge from time to time.”

A slight ripple of laughter went through thejury. They were hanging now on every word, every nuance. Herebefore them was one of the first citizens of the colony, agentleman among gentlemen, on a witness-stand defending as best hecould his reprobate Irish brother.

“That may well be, doctor, but I believe youknow otherwise.” Cambridge stared hard at Dr. Baldwin, holding himgaze for gaze.

“I don’t know what you are implying,sir.”

“I’m not implying anything other thanthis: tell this court exactly how much you know about why and howSeamus Baldwin came to leave his law firm in Cork, Ireland. Andremember, you have sworn an oath before God to tell the truth.”

Dr. Baldwin bridled. “I know what an oathbefore my God is, sir.” Then he paused and looked slowly up at hisbrother slumped against the bailiff’s man in the dock. A greatsadness overwhelmed him. He dropped his gaze, struggling with somedeep, insurgent emotion. “The truth is this. I’ve had it fromSeamus’s law partners in correspondence and from Seamushimself.”

The courtroom was silent. A crow cawed in thedistance.

“John McCall, the senior partner, discoveredthat Seamus was paying court to his daughter.”

“And how old was the daughter?”