“Oh, I’ll leave all right. But you mistake meif you think I came here just fer money. My girl was murdered – bytwo people, a man and a woman. And I want justice. I hungerfer it.” Thurgood was standing now, and outrage had stripped him ofboth cunning and fear.
“And I do also,” Robert said. “I am anofficer of the court, and when the time is right, I intend toconvey your charge to my uncle. I do not wish him to hear of itfirst from any other source. And I swear to you now, if by anychance he should not deny it, I will personally convey himto the police myself.”
“Then you better do it soon, mister, becauseI’m gonna go to the police station as soon as I can get leave fromthe mill. I’ll make Mrs. Cobb admit what she heard. We’ll seewhether I got any evidence or not!”
“Do what you have to, Thurgood, but pleaseleave my house. I’ll send you the money later today.”
At the front door, Thurgood turned and raisedhis fist. “I’ll take yer blood-money, sir, but it won’t change mymind. We’ll soon see, won’t we, whether the poor c’n get justice inthis province!” And with that, he left.
Robert took several deep breaths. He felt theironies of the situation bitterly. Justice for the ordinary man hadbeen the theme of his life. His heart ached for people like theThurgoods and the blows that Fate had dealt them, yet he despisedthe low cunning they often of necessity resorted to. He knew UncleSeamus was not guilty of raping a young woman he had loved like agranddaughter. Still, he would have to be informed of the situationas soon as possible.
From the library came a ripple of girlishlaughter and a guffaw bigger than most sneezes. Edie Barr hadalready begun working miracles with Uncle Seamus.
But would they last?
FIVE
Cobb was in the constables’ room dictating notes toGussie French, the clerk, about a pair of thieves he and Wilkie hadcaught drunk and disoriented in a dry goods store early Thursdaymorning. He was just getting started, and beginning to enjoyGussie’s increasing anxiety as his pen failed to keep up with thepace of dictating, when he and Gussie’s pen were interrupted by aclump of heavy feet in the reception area. This impoliteness wasfollowed closely by a grunted demand of some sort and then theChief’s voice inviting the intruder into his office. Ten minuteslater, Cobb was just finishing his report when he heard the outerdoor slam. He poked his head out. Chief Sturges was standing in thedoorway of his office, and when he spied Cobb, he said:
“Cobb, I think you’d better come in and hearthe story that rude fellow had to tell.”
Cobb trailed him inside. Sturges eased hisgouty foot onto a padded stool and motioned for Cobb to sitdown.
“Long story, is it, sir?”
“Long and upsetting, I’m afraid. I just hadBurton Thurgood in here. He’s a mill-hand from up Trout Creek way,the one whose daughter died.”
“Whittle’s mill, ya mean? The one on theBaldwin property? Dora told me about that business.”
“He leases the land from Dr. Baldwin.”
“This have to do with the Baldwins,then?”
“It looks that way,” Sturges sighed.
“But if it’s about the daughter, we’vealready had an inquest. Dora give me chapter and verse.”
“It is about the girl. And the inquest maynot be the last of it.” He went on to repeat to Cobb the tale thatThurgood had told him and the charge he was making.
“Jesus Murphy,” Cobb whistled. “Old SeamusBaldwin, you say? That’s pretty hard to swallow, ain’t it?”
“I agree. But he’s usin’ yer Dora as hischief witness. Did she say anythin’ about any death-bed claim madeby the poor girl out there last Friday night?”
Cobb shook his head. “No, she didn’t. Butthat’s not unusual. We have a sort of pact not to gabble on orcomplain about each other’s work. But she has complainedbitterly about that quack, Mrs. Trigger, and she did go on aboutwhat the old bird might’ve done to kill Betsy Thurgood, but shesaid she only had the parents’ word on that score.”
“And Trigger’s hat, which she testified shefound in their kitchen. Enough to get a warrant out fer Trigger’sarrest. But I was at the inquest, and no mention was made byanybody of Seamus Baldwin bein’ accused of bein’ the babe’s father.And, of course, bein’ guilty of seduction and rape of a minor.”
“What did Thurgood have to say aboutthat?”
“He said he thought tellin’ the police wasthe right way to go.”
Cobb sighed. “Betsy wouldna been the firsthousemaid put in the family way by a lecher-roused lord ofthe manor. Usually them matters is hushed up and taken care of bythe swells themselves.”
“Not when the girl dies horribly and accusesthe perpetrator before witnesses.”
“You want me to talk to Dora?”
“I do, Cobb. And mister and missus as well.Thurgood’s got a big chip on his shoulder. He more or less claimedwe wouldn’t take his charge seriously because the accused was abigwig Baldwin. I assured him it would be looked into by my topinvestigator, with a written report he would be allowed to read -if he can.”
“Top investigator?”
“That’s right, Cobb. Remember, I’m goin’ tothe Council next month with that proposal we talked about. I wantyou to get off yer patrol. I’ll have Sweeney cover for you. Takeall the time you need.”
“You want me in my Sunday suit?”
Sturges laughed. “Not yet. Not yet.”
***
Cobb found Dora in the parlour with her feet up anda cup of tea in her hand.
“What’re ya doin’ home now, Mr. Cobb?” shegreeted him, as if he were some burglar who forgot it wasdaylight.
“Good mornin’ to you, too.”
She spied the serious look on his face, andsaid, “What is it?”
And he told her.
“I was just surprised he never said anythin’about Seamus Baldwin at the inquest,” was Dora’s initial responseto Cobb’s account of Thurgood’s visit.
“But you didn’t either,” Cobb saidcautiously.
“Nobody asked,” she snapped. “And I had mydoubts about the business anyway. Why smear a man’s character whenyou don’t have to?”
“It’s yer doubts I come to talk to you about.The Sarge has asked me to investigate the charge.”
“So I’m bein’ in-terror-grated, amI?”
“You are.”
Dora smiled as best she could. The grimevents of Friday evening still weighed heavily upon her. “Shoot,then.”
“First off, did young Betsy call out thegent’s name when her mother asked her who the father of the babewas?”
Dora paused, and choosing her wordscarefully, she said, “Auleen did ask that question. But the girlwas fevered and delirious. She’d been mutterin’ and murmurin’ inher fever all along, mostly gibberish as far as I could makeout.”
“But the name Seamus did come out?”
“It did. Right after Auleen’s question. But Iwas nearest to the poor thing. Her tone was much closer to beggin’than accusin’. I think she wanted someone to fetch Seamus, or UncleSeamus as everybody out there calls him.”
“If he was her lover, though, she could’vebeen askin’ fer him, eh?”
“It’s possible, but it sounded more like achild callin’ out fer an adult to come an’ comfort her.”
“Either way, that don’t sound too good, doesit? The girl’s with child and she don’t call fer her mom or dad butfer Uncle Seamus.”
“She was dyin’, not birthin’. And she’dprobably grown fond of the old gent, eh?”
“Not too fond, I hope.”
“Besides, Baldwin ain’t the only Seamus inthe county. We can’t go accusin’ a man of a hyena’s crimejust because a girl called out his Christian name?”
“That right. And that’s why the Chief’s sentme out to see if there is anythin’ that looks like realevidence.”
“If we c’n believe the Thurgoods, there was afive-pound note passed from the girl to Mrs. Trigger.”