Minor Corruption Read Online Free PDF Page B

new
constables, aren’t they likely to balk at extra expenses? They’re
too cheap to cobble or macadam the main streets, for God’s
sake.”
    “They are. But I’ve got a long list of yer
successful investigations to regale them with. Besides, serious
crime is on the increase. Toronto would like to be the capital of
the united provinces when Kingston drops the ball, so they’re much
aware of our town’s safety and the success of our constabulary.
Anyway, as long as you approve of the idea, I’m goin’ to push it as
hard as I can.”
    Cobb nodded his assent slowly. Then he said,
“You sure that gout of yers ain’t gonna get better?”
    ***
    Beth dropped Marc off at Baldwin House and continued
on up Bay Street towards Smallman’s. Marc watched her
awhile, marvelling yet again how competent she was around horses
and most things practical, and at how content they both were at the
life they had begun making together. Like many people in this
colony, they had suffered the loss of those they had loved and
themselves had had brushes with death. But they had survived and
found each other. They had brought a daughter and a son into this
world. They could do nothing to alter the whims of Fate or a
vengeful God, but they could do all in their power to make the new
Canada a place fit to live and prosper in. Politics was a human
enterprise and, if possible, they would make sure it was humane as
well. Beth had worked for the Reform cause – the redress of
long-time grievances and the establishment of a responsible,
cabinet form of government – all her adult life. It was she who had
won him over to the cause, along with his heart. He watched her
now, and marvelled anew until the buggy wheeled east onto King
Street.
    Marc turned back towards Baldwin House, which
faced Front Street at Bay. Half of the splendid, two-storey brick
building provided living quarters for Robert, his four children,
their governess Diana Ramsay, and their servants. The other half
contained the law chambers of Baldwin and Sullivan, the firm that
Marc, as a barrister, assisted from time to time but one that he
had so far resisted joining, as he had still not decided the
precise direction his future would take. His assistance this
morning, and for the next several weeks, would consist of writing
letters on Robert’s behalf while offering guidance to and keeping a
close watch on Seamus Baldwin as he settled in “to be of help.”
Uncle Seamus had come into town yesterday evening, and was to make
his inaugural appearance in chambers at nine this morning. Marc
went immediately to his office, a small but comfortable room next
to the suite of rooms occupied by Clement Peachey and his clerks –
the place where the conveyancing and other fee-paying business was
carried out. At the end of the hall lay two large and
well-appointed chambers reserved for the firm’s partners.
    Robert’s manservant had set a small fire in
the corner stove to take the night chill off, and Marc had just
walked over to dampen it down when he heard a sharp cry. It had
come from next door, and sounded as if someone had jabbed something
sharp into Clement Peachey. Marc ran out into the hall. The cry had
evolved into a string of oaths, none of them complimentary. Marc
opened Clement’s door and went in.
    “What happened?” Marc said, but already the
anxiety had gone out of his voice. Peachey was not injured. In fact
he had not risen from his desk. He was holding aloft what appeared
to be the firm’s seal, the one used to press hot wax onto the many
official documents and letters he dealt with daily. He was glaring
at it as if it had of its own accord chosen to alter its shape. He
glanced up at Marc, scowled, then looked down at the document
before him. Marc could see what might have been shards of clear
glass scattered over it.
    “Macaroons,” Peachey said bleakly. “Some damn
fool glued bits of macaroon to my seal!”
    Uncle Seamus had struck early.
    ***
    It took Marc five minutes