Minor Corruption (16 page)

Whatever Edie’s motive – and at her age she
might not know herself – this incriminating letter was now in his
hands. No-one other than Seamus came remotely close to the
description of the lover therein. The letter itself suggested that
Betsy had fancied him from afar. Had he picked up on this fancy and
crossed the line with her? Had they set up an assignation? Had she
resisted, resulting in rape? Or had the affair actually continued
after the original encounter until abortion had become a necessity?
(After all, the letter wasn’t dated.) Cobb would soon find out.
Uncle Seamus had better have some compelling answers to his
questions.

“Thanks, lass, you’ve been a big help,” he
said to Edie.

Edie looked as if she was not sure what she
had done.

***

Sixty-year-old Seamus Baldwin looked ninety. He was
slumped against the library table. He did not glance up at Cobb’s
entry nor did he acknowledge Cobb’s presence when he sat down
catty-corner from him. He reminded Cobb of a circus clown he had
once seen sitting behind his tent after the performance: all the
stuffing gone out of him, all the bright colours of his smile
melting together, his very bones sagged and defeated.

“Mr. Baldwin, I must begin by saying that
some very serious charges have been made against you, and I’ve
gathered evidence to back them from a number of witnesses.”

“I know. William just told me about the
incident at the mill.” The voice was a hoarse whisper. “It’s the
last straw. That anyone would think that I would hurt my dear, dear
Betsy.”

“I’m hopin’ we can clear this up by havin’
you explain away some of the things I been hearin’ today.”

“If I must.”

“First of all, one of the mill-hands says
that on the day we’re talkin’ about, August the third – ”

“I remember. The day after the tornado.”

“That’s right. This mill-hand says he saw you
at yer fishin’ spot in the ravine below the mill about
twelve-thirty or so. Were you there, sir?”

The reply startled Cobb. “Yes. I was
there.”

“Without yer fishin’ rod?”

“That’s correct.”

My word! The man was admitting it
outright.

“How did you expect to catch trout without
yer gear?”

“I was there for another reason.” Despite the
man’s obvious emotional and physical exhaustion, a note of wariness
had crept into his responses.

“And what might that be?”

“I was supposed to meet Betsy there.”

For the assignation! My, my, Cobb thought,
this is looking bad, bad indeed. “Why on earth would you wish to
meet yer housemaid there? You see her every hour on the hour at
Spadina.”

“It wasn’t what you think, Cobb. Betsy shared
my love of horses. She liked to admire them, those we have here and
those at the mill. I came to Spadina at the beginning of July.
Betsy helped serve a dozen dinners and picnics that month. I took a
shine to her. She was bright and literate. I wanted to help her get
ahead. Even before she came on steady at the end of the month, I
had started tutoring her. She told me that her father was thinking
of buying a pony from Seth Whittle. She knew I knew a lot about
horseflesh. She asked me to have a look at this animal before her
dad bought it. She was afraid he might get swindled.”

“I see. But why the secrecy? Couldn’t you
just have gone over and had a look?”

“Probably. But she wanted to be with me. She
was an excited little girl. Her father didn’t approve of her
staying on at the mill after she delivered his lunch. So we
arranged to meet in the ravine and from there move up through the
brush to the back door of the barn, which was always open. Betsy
knew nobody would be around.”

“So you waited, but Betsy didn’t show
up?”

“No.” He looked even more devastated,
thinking no doubt that he might have prevented the tragedy that
followed. “We must have got our arrangements confused. She probably
thought I would come up from the ravine by myself. But I wanted her
to make sure the coast was clear before she came to fetch me.”

“So you just left?”

He nodded. “Now I know why she didn’t come.
Some bastard raped her!”

Cobb cleared his throat noisily. “We got a
witness who says it was you who was in the stall with Betsy.”

“Then you’ve got a witness who is lying,” he
said wearily. “There was never anything improper going on between
Betsy and me. Oh, I know I’ve been seen teasing the girls and
Robert’s kids, and acting the fool. But that’s my nature. It’s what
I felt free to do – out here – at last.”

“Then there’s the whole business of the five
pounds and the thank-you note.”

“I’ve already explained that.”

“What about this, then?” Cobb handed him
Betsy’s billet-doux.

Uncle Seamus paled even more as he read it.
It fell from his fingers. “I never knew. I swear.”

“The trouble is, sir, the only people who
know about the pony story and about the lie Betsy told you about
her mother needin’ surgery are you and Betsy. And Betsy’s dead. We
got a signed statement from a witness naming you as the culprit.
None of the other mill-hands fit the witness’s description – only
you. No other stranger was seen anywhere about by Mullins, who was
south of the mill or by Whittle and Thurgood, who were north of it.
And we got two notes in the girl’s handwritin’ suggestin’ a romance
was possible between you and her.”

“What are you saying, sir? That I’m going to
be charged?”

“That ain’t fer me to decide. I’m just
tellin’ you what I plan to put in my report to Chief Sturges.”

But Cobb had little doubt about the outcome.
He had systematically built up a powerful case against Uncle
Seamus. The Chief had asked him to obtain the facts and he had,
insofar as they could be ferreted out after two months. He was both
saddened and proud. Saddened because Seamus Baldwin was the uncle
of Marc’s close friend and political ally, Robert Baldwin. The
consequences of such a charge could be catastrophic for the Reform
party and their hopes in the coming election. Still, Marc would
have wanted Cobb to do what he did: carefully and dispassionately
gather evidence and credible witness-accounts. And Cobb was proud
that he had done so. Perhaps he would make a good detective after
all.

In the hall, Dr. Baldwin said, “How did it
go?”

“You’d better see to him, sir,” Cobb
said.

And he left quickly.

NINE

It was late Friday afternoon when Cobb finished
dictating a summary of his interviews and adding some final remarks
to his report. Wilfrid Sturges was attending a meeting with the
mayor and aldermen, but arrived back a few minutes after Gussie
French blew the last grain of blotting sand away from the paper in
front of him. Cobb handed the report to his chief and waited with
Gussie in the anteroom while Sturges took it into his office to
read it over. Cobb was pleased to see that he was not limping
today.

Time dragged on. Gussie grumped and whined
about his teenager, whom the mumps had not made any more
manageable. Constable Brown clumped in and went into the
constables’ room. At last the Chief called Cobb inside. Sturges was
sitting and staring at the report as if expecting it to burst into
flames at any moment. Cobb sat down quietly and waited for the
Chief’s reaction.

“What a mess!”

This remark was not among the ones Cobb had
anticipated. “I thought the chain of events was pretty clear,” he
said.

“They are, Cobb, they are. You are to be
congratulated on the job you did this afternoon.”

“Then what’s the problem, sir?”

Sturges sighed. “What we have here – what
you’ve unearthed – is a series of circumstantial events, well
testified to, that surround a single witness’s claim that the
person he saw assaultin’ Betsy Thurgood was Seamus Baldwin.”

“That’s the way I see it, too.”

“The trouble is not in the details you set
out, it’s whether they point clearly to laying a charge of rape
against a revered member of a prominent family.”

“You’re not sure whether to charge him or
not?”

“What I’m sayin’ is we’re damned if we do and
damned if we don’t.”

“And if we do?”

“If we do, we’ll bring the house of Reform
down upon us like a rock-fall. They’ll claim the witness didn’t see
the culprit’s face and that the police went out of their way to
find testimony to incriminate their man. They’ll scream
witch-hunt!”

“And if we don’t?”

“The Tories, includin’ most of the
government, will accuse us of gatherin’ facts and findin’ witnesses
and then coverin’ them up! Witch-hunt or cover-up, take yer pick.
This report, you see, can be turned either way, dependin’ on yer
prejudices.”

“But who else coulda done it?” Cobb said,
beginning to get miffed.

“Nobody that I can tell. I agree with you
that Jake Broom’s account is very believable, and everythin’ –
everythin’
– you’ve dug up supports his claims. But it’s
possible he lied to cover up fer Mullins or Clift, who were free
from observation at the time of the crime. To think he might’ve
done it himself is crazy. If he did, or if he saw one of his mates
commit the crime, he never in a million years would’ve come in here
and brung the whole business up when it was long forgotten. That
makes no sense at all.”

“That’s right. He comes back to the mill
yesterday and hears nothin’ about the rape business, does he? If he
was
the culprit, he might’ve expected the girl would’ve
complained, and so on. Instead, he only hears about Betsy’s death
after a botched abortion.”

“Why come back at all, eh?”

Cobb looked warily at the report between
them. “So what are ya gonna do?”

“I’m goin’ to take this report straight over
to the Court House and show it to James Thorpe. I’ll let him
decide. I don’t fancy chargin’ a Baldwin, however elderly and
dodderin’, with seduction and statutory rape, even though I got the
power to do so.”

“But the magistrate’s a Tory!” Cobb cried.
“We know perfectly well what he’ll do and why.”

“Maybe so. But Thorpe’s an honest man.
However, once the Attorney-General and them other Tory hounds get
one whiff of what’s in yer report, there’ll be no stoppin’ ‘em.
Still, I want the charge and any prosecution left in
their
hands. I want it to be seen that we done
our
jobs – fairly
and diligently.”

“You sure you wanta retire?” Cobb said.

***

It came as no surprise that at noon on Monday, a
warrant was issued for the arrest of Seamus Baldwin. There was one
surprise, however: the charges were multiple – seduction and
corruption of a minor, having carnal relations with a minor, and
involuntary manslaughter. The hand of the Tory establishment was
evident, it was whispered everywhere, in that last unexpected
charge. Apparently, Humphrey Cardiff, the Attorney-General, had
decided to throw the book at the elder statesman of the first
family of Reform. Sturges selected Rossiter and Wilkie to drive out
to Spadina to effect the arrest. He didn’t want Cobb harassed or
compromised. Dr. Baldwin greeted them courteously and asked for
half an hour to prepare his brother. His request was granted.
Wobbly on his pins but with much dignity, the old gent, emotionally
drained, was helped to the carriage. There was no thought of
manacles.

He was arraigned within minutes of his
arrival at the Court House, the charges read, a plea of not guilty
entered and, considering his age and state of health, he was
released into the hands of his younger brother. The Baldwin name
alone was surety enough for his later appearance in court. Again,
political chicanery was assumed when the trial date was set for two
weeks hence, the first Monday in November. Three other cases in the
assizes had to be rescheduled to accommodate the Baldwin trial.

It was Wednesday before Robert Baldwin could
be summoned back to face the gravest crisis in his family’s
illustrious history.

***

They met on Thursday morning in the spacious library
of Francis Hincks, who lived next door to Baldwin House: Robert,
Dr. Baldwin, Hincks, Marc Edwards and Robert Baldwin Sullivan. It
was here that many of the important conferences of the Reform
caucus had been held, and critical decisions taken in the long
struggle for a system of responsible government in the province.
And although everyone here was eager to hear Robert’s report of his
journey to the western counties, no-one was surprised that the
first and principal topic of conversation was to be the upcoming
trial of Uncle Seamus. A copy of the Crown’s indictment lay open on
the table. It ran to five pages. They had all read it, silently and
solemnly.

“Before we discuss the particulars,” Hincks
said to get things started, “we need to decide who is to be Uncle
Seamus’s defense counsel.”

“It has to be you, Marc,” Robert said
matter-of-factly, then looked beseechingly at his friend. “I am far
too close to the situation.”

“And I have to be in Kingston on business the
very date of the trial’s beginning,” his cousin said without
apparent regret. He was a brilliant courtroom performer, but
impatient with research and the petty details that were often as
crucial as the grand gesture. “But in the interim I’ll do all I can
to help.”

“Thanks, Bob,” Robert said. “We all
appreciate your concern. As you know full well, these spurious
charges are a direct attack on our family and our party.”

“And whether you are comfortable with it or
not, Robert,” Hincks said, “we may need you to return to Windsor to
calm the waters there.”

Robert nodded, then looked at Marc again.

“It’s a terrible responsibility,” Marc said,
“but I’d be a coward and no friend if I refused.”

“That’s settled, then,” Dr. Baldwin said with
evident relief. He was still pale and weak from several bouts of
lumbago. “I’ll try to pitch in, but my brother’s in worse shape
than I am. He needs a physician close by whenever possible.”