Minor Corruption by Don Gutteridge

“If I’d’ve got here an hour sooner, I
might’ve saved her.”
    Thurgood glared at her. His initial response
to Betsy’s death had been to let out a long, slow breath, then turn
and lurch out of the bedroom.
    “How much do you expect to be paid?” he
snarled, perhaps letting his anger keep him from feeling something
he could not bear.
    “Nothin’, sir. I did what I could, and it
wasn’t much.”
    “You c’n help us out by bein’ a witness,” he
said, pinning her with a stare that bordered on madness.
    “What do you mean?” Dora said, packing her
bag calmly so as not to give him the slightest impression that she
was intimidated by him. “I witnessed the girl die, didn’t I?” She
felt deeply sorry for both the Thurgoods, but always reserved a
special sympathy for the husbands and fathers, who seemed unable to
vent their grief in appropriate or satisfying ways. Nonetheless,
she was rapidly losing patience with Burton Thurgood.
    “She named the man who did this to her,
didn’t she?” he seethed, digging his fingernails into his palms.
“She called out ‘Seamus’ with her dyin’ breath! And we all know who
Mr. Seamus is, don’t we?”
    “Don’t be absurd, man. Yer girl was in a
fever delirium. She didn’t even know we was in the room. And it
sounded to me like she was askin’ for him, not accusin’
him.”
    “But you heard my wife ask her who the father
was, didn’t you?” He stepped towards her menacingly. “And there’s
only one Seamus within miles of here – up at Spadina!”
    “Please, calm down. You’re terrible upset.
You can’t go around accusin’ someone like Mr. Baldwin just because
his name’s Seamus. And you’ll see things different in the mornin’.
Now I got to go. I’ll let Dr. Smollett know and he’ll come and sign
the death certificate.”
    “I don’t need no advice from a butcher like
you!”
    Dora turned to leave. It was just then that
she spotted a familiar object lying beside a stool near the door.
She picked it up. It was a ladies’ hat, decorated with red and
white beads and topped by a garish, green peacock feather. She
turned back slowly, hat in hand.
    Auleen gave a little cry and slumped back
against the dry sink. Thurgood’s eyes widened, his anger draining
quickly.
    “I’d know this awful bonnet anywheres,” Dora
said, her own anger rising. “This is Elsie Trigger’s hat. Elsie’s
already been here – and gone, ain’t she?”
    “That’s none of yer business,” Thurgood
snapped.
    “Midwifin’s my business, sir. And I’ll ask
you to tell me what that old quack was doin’ here before me. What did she do to Betsy ?”
    “She – she come just like you did,” Auleen
said in a quavering voice. Terror stood straight up in her eyes.
“To see if our girl was in the family way.”
    “And you left her alone in there with a naïve
little girl?”
    “It was just fer a few minutes, wasn’t it,
Burt?”
    “Now I know why the girl bled to death!” Dora
said, seething. “What I saw in there was no miscarriage, though it
may have started out as such. It was an abortion. And I know how
Elsie Trigger goes about it when she’s in a hurry.”
    “We know nothin’ about it!” Thurgood said,
his defiance ill-masking his fear. “It was between her and the
girl.”
    “She come out of that room with a bloody
needle in one hand and a five-pound note in the other!” Auleen
cried with the last of her strength.
    “And I’ve never held a five-pound note in my
life!” Thurgood said. “The bitch told us Betsy’d had a miscarriage
and everythin’ was fine. And she left.”
    “You’re sayin’ that Betsy gave five pounds to
Elsie Trigger to abort the babe? I don’t believe it.”
    “Why not? You heard what the girl said with
her last breath. Seamus Baldwin got her with child and Seamus
Baldwin give her five pounds to get rid of it.”
    “She went to work up at Spadina at the end of
July,” Auleen said. Then she added almost plaintively, “And