by Al Lacy
Sidney thanked her, then turned to the men. “Gentlemen, I understand you are acquainted with Captain Gordon Burke, who was here for almost a month.”
“Yes, sir,” Westbrook said. “The captain was in this bed right next to me for the entire time he was here.” He gestured to an unoccupied cot. “I got to know him quite well.”
“And I did too,” Byars said.
“Good. I’m his brother, Sidney Burke.”
Both men smiled and shook his hand.
Sidney gestured toward Darlene. “And this is my wife, Darlene.”
“Ma’am,” they said in unison, nodding at her.
“And this lady is Gordon’s wife, Elizabeth.”
There was an awkward silence as the two soldiers looked at each other. Then Westbrook said, “Ma’am, I’m—we’re sorry, but this comes to us as a complete surprise.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well … ah …” Westbrook looked at Sidney. “Mr. Burke, what we have to tell her is … well, is going to be a shock. Maybe we should tell you out of her presence and—”
“Tell me!” Elizabeth demanded, her eyes flashing.
The sergeant took a deep breath and said, “Ma’am, we had a nurse in this ward who was assigned to Captain Burke. Name was Lila Murray. Well … we watched a romance develop between them. Neither made any attempt to hide their feelings for each other. Everyone who knew him here in the hospital thought the captain was unmarried … as did Miss Murray.”
A moan escaped Elizabeth’s lips, and she crossed her arms and gripped them tightly, trying to press the pain from her chest.
“I’ll get a nurse,” Sidney said.
“Ma’am,” Byars said, “we’re sorry to be the ones to tell you this.”
Elizabeth stared at the floor, gasping for breath, as Darlene held her.
Sidney returned with nurse Twila Duncan, who said to him, “Grab that chair over there by the other bed.”
When Elizabeth was seated, Twila checked her pulse, then bent down and looked in Elizabeth’s eyes. Twila asked Sidney to help her get Elizabeth on the adjacent bed. Then she pulled the privacy curtains around the bed and hurried away. She returned with a tin cup and disappeared behind the curtain.
Twila managed to force a little of the sedative from the cup between Elizabeth’s tightly drawn lips. Elizabeth choked and gasped, but after several minutes, the contents of the cup had been drained.
Two orderlies came to place Elizabeth on a cart, and Sidney and Darlene followed alongside the nurse to a small, sparsely furnished room outside the ward where they placed Elizabeth on a cot. Elizabeth began trembling all over, and Twila covered her with blankets, tucking them up under her quivering chin.
Finally the trembling began to subside, and Elizabeth’s eyelids started to droop. Sidney excused himself, saying he wanted to talk to Westbrook and Byars some more.
Sidney asked the two soldiers if Lila Murray had left her job at the hospital the same day his brother had been released, and they said yes. He thanked them for their help and returned to the small room to find that Elizabeth was asleep. Twila Duncan told them Elizabeth would sleep for a while; if they wanted to get away for a while, she would keep an eye on her.
Sidney and Darlene left the hospital hand in hand and walked to the café they had noticed upon their arrival. They sat down at a table and ordered coffee, strong and black, then Sidney told Darlene what he had just learned from the two soldiers.
For a few minutes they simply sat and stared into space, then spoke at the same time.
“You go first,” Darlene said.
“I can’t believe Gordon would do something so stupid,” Sidney said. “How could he just walk out on Elizabeth and those children?”
“I know, I can’t believe it either. But Elizabeth and her children are going to need all the help and support we can give them. Just being angry won’t help.”
After his third cup of coffee, Sidney released a deep sigh and gave Darlene a sheepish grin as he admitted she was right.
When they returned to the small room in the hospital, they found a droopy-eyed Elizabeth sitting on the edge of the cot, holding her head in her hands. Nurse Duncan was not in the room. Darlene knelt in front of Elizabeth, gathered her in her arms, and held her close for a long time.
When she released her, Elizabeth looked up at Sidney and said, “Thank you both for being here. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.” She drew a shaky breath. “Now I need to get home to my children.”
When Elizabeth was able to walk, the three returned to Vernon Glover’s office and thanked him for his help. Glover told them he had no idea where Lila Murray went after she quit her job, but he gave them the name of the apartment building where she had lived.
When they arrived at the apartment, the landlord could only tell them that Lila had left quite suddenly. She was with a man in uniform. There was a captain’s insignia on his coat, and he had a bandage on his head.
On the train ride back to Boston, Elizabeth leaned on Darlene’s shoulder and wept.
Elizabeth walked into the house with Sidney and Darlene at her side, and the children came running to her. All three looked beyond their mother as they hugged her, and asked if their father was with her.
“No, he isn’t,” she said.
“Why not?” Evelyn asked.
Elizabeth looked at the maid, and said, “Cleora, would you heat up some tea and bring it into the parlor, please?”
“Yes, ma’am. I have some in the kitchen already hot. I’ll be right back with it.”
Elizabeth guided the children to a brocade couch in the parlor, where the girls sat down with Adam between them. Sidney and Darlene took seats nearby, and Elizabeth pulled up a straight-backed wooden chair in front of the children.
Cleora came in bearing a tray with a steaming teapot and three cups. When she had poured for Elizabeth, Sidney, and Darlene, she left the room.
Elizabeth took a few sips, then ran her gaze over the faces of her children, her mind at a loss as to how to tell them. Noting the fear in their eyes, she took a steadying breath and said, “Adam, Laura, Evelyn, your papa will not be coming home. Ever.” Haltingly, she told them what she had learned at the Potomac Hospital in Bethesda, pausing at times to compose herself and to carefully choose her words. “So you see, children, Papa has chosen to go away with this woman rather than to come home to us.”
Laura left the couch and rushed into her mother’s arms, tears blurring her vision. Evelyn joined them.
Adam sat staring at his mother and sisters, then suddenly sprang from the couch. Elizabeth reached out and grabbed his arm, but he jerked free and bolted for the door.
“Adam!” Elizabeth cried.
They heard the rapid pounding of his feet as he ascended the winding staircase.
“I’ll see to him, Liz,” Sidney said, rising from his chair.
Before he reached the parlor door, a sound of breaking glass came from upstairs. Sidney saw Elizabeth start to get up and said, “I’ll take care of him, Liz. You stay with the girls.”
Darlene joined mother and daughters as Elizabeth held the girls against her, trying to comfort them with the gentle murmur of her familiar voice.
Sidney bounded up the stairs and ran down the hall toward the master bedroom where he heard more glass shattering. When he reached the open door, he saw three windows broken out and Adam throwing his father’s bust of Napoleon Bonaparte through a fourth window.
“What are you doing, Adam!”
“I’m throwing away everything my father owned! I don’t want to see anything of his ever, ever, ever again!”
Sidney took hold of Adam’s shoulders, but he pulled loose from his uncle’s grasp, screaming, “I hate him! I don’t want anything of his left in this house!”
Sidney reached for him again, and Adam jumped back. “Leave me alone, Uncle Sidney!” He took another backward step, reached into his pocket, and pulled out the gold watch his father had given him.
He threw it to the floor and smashed it with his heel. “I hate him! I hate him! I hate him!”
Sidney went to Adam, and this time the boy did not move away. Just as Sidney was wrapping his arms around Adam, Elizabeth, Darlene, and the girls came into the room.
“I hate Papa, Mama!” Adam wailed. “I hate him! I wish he had been killed in the war!”
THE SUN WAS JUST BEGINNING ITS CLIMB into the hazy sky, but its warmth was already heating up the streets of Philadelphia. A short, stubby man of sixty stepped down from a carriage in front of the Philadelphia Enquirer building. As he crossed the sidewalk, other Enquirer employees were also arriving.
He passed through the double doors beside a younger man, who greeted him. “Have a nice weekend, Mr. Corwin?”
“Not bad, Norm. Would’ve been better if the weather was cooler.”
“Can’t disagree with that, sir. But then, it’s August. What can we expect but heat and high humidity?”
“That’s it, I guess,” Corwin said with a chuckle.
He made his way to the second floor and headed for his office. Just outside his door, two men huddled together over some papers. To the older one Corwin said, “Is he ready, Lance?”
“Yes, sir. We worked on it for a couple of hours Saturday afternoon, so our promising young apprentice reporter is ready for his first big story.”
“Only with your expert help,” Derek Mills said. “I’d be scared stiff to tackle this story without your coaching.”
“We all needed help when we first went into the newspaper business, Derek,” Corwin said. “This will be a good start for you. With everybody in the city keyed up about this trial, we’re printing two thousand extra issues each day the trial lasts.”
Derek smiled. “I want to thank you again, Mr. Corwin, for allowing me to write this story. I couldn’t ask for a better employer than you, or a better tutor than Lance.”
Corwin laid a hand on Derek’s shoulder. “You’ve got the stuff, kid. If I didn’t see it in you, I wouldn’t have put you with my star reporter. Now, you gentlemen finish up what you’re doing and be at the courthouse good and early.”
Corwin entered a glassed-in office with lettering on the door that read: JIM CORWIN, EDITOR IN CHIEF.
“All right,” Lance said. “Let’s go over the basic facts. Tell me what you have so far.”
Derek shuffled the papers before him, putting them in order. “Today is the first day of the trial for police officer Seth Coleman, who has been charged with the murder of fellow officer Lawrence Sheldon. Such a charge has never before been brought against a police officer in the state of Pennsylvania. For that matter, it has only happened one time in the history of this country … in Bangor, Maine, in the summer of 1797.”
“Correct,” said Lance. “And in that case the accused officer committed suicide in his jail cell before the trial, leaving a note confessing that he had killed his fellow constable over a woman.”
Derek looked at the paper in his hand. “The judge in this trial is the honorable Lucius P. Shagley. The prosecuting attorney is Hansel Vandeveer. The jury is made up of a dozen prominent Philadelphia businessmen. The defense attorney for Officer Coleman is Adam Burke, a dazzling young associate in the Benson, Smith, and Walters law firm. Burke, now twenty-four, graduated from Harvard University Law School in May 1873, and was hired by George Benson, senior partner of the firm almost while still in his cap and gown.”
Derek felt Lance’s eyes on him. He looked up, caught a look of disapproval, and cleared his throat. “Sir?”
“I wouldn’t use the word dazzling when you write it. Granted, Burke is a sharp lawyer for his age, but you really don’t need an adjective like that.”
“All right. I’ll come up with something less potent.”
“You need to be careful about that kind of thing until you see how the trial turns out, then go with your flashy adjectives.”
“All right, sir.”
“And since Burke is young for a lawyer, you’re on solid ground to give his age in the first story. But I’d leave out that ‘cap and gown’ stuff.”
“Whatever you say.” Derek scratched through a few lines with his pencil and stared at the paper for a moment. “What about if I say that Burke is engaged to the beautiful Philipa Conrad, the spoiled and snobbish only child of Philadelphia’s wealthiest and most prominent attorney, Philip Conrad III?”
Lance snorted. “You’re kidding, of course.”
“No, I’m not kidding. Everybody knows that Philipa is spoiled rotten and sticks her nose up at people she thinks are below her.”
“I mean about putting that in print.”
Derek laughed. “Gotcha!”
Lance grinned and shook his head.
“Seriously, Lance, wouldn’t it be newsy to let the readers know that the defense attorney works for another firm but is engaged to Philip Conrad’s daughter?”
Lance rubbed his chin. “Mmm. I wouldn’t put that in unless Burke wins the case for his client. If he does, that’ll be chewy stuff for the public.”
Derek nodded and made a note to himself.
Lance looked at the clock on the wall. “We’d better get going. You’ve got the basic things down. We’ll work on them some more after we see what happens today. By the way, you didn’t mention that Officer Seth Coleman is single. You ought to include that in your first write-up. People want to know about family and that kind of thing.”
Derek made of note on the pages, then said, “Officer Sheldon was also unmarried, correct?”
“That’s right,” Lance said as he closed a side desk drawer. “Coleman has no family at all. Sheldon’s parents, Jack and Thelma Sheldon, will be at the trial, along with some cousins. Didn’t I give you that information?”
Derek shuffled papers for a moment, then snapped his fingers. “Yes, you did. I’ve got it right here.”
“All right. Let’s go.”
When Lance Rankin and Derek Mills arrived at the Philadelphia County Courthouse, they spotted reporters from the town’s other two newspapers on the courthouse steps and gave a civil nod, acknowledging their presence.
Lance pointed out police chief Mandrake Bennett as they entered the courtroom. Bennett was sitting with several off-duty police officers. On the second row, center section, sat Jack and Thelma Sheldon, along with friends and relatives. Lance and Derek took seats behind the police chief and the other officers.
Ten minutes before the trial was scheduled to begin, the courtroom was packed, and there were people in the hall who had gotten there too late to get seats.
The jury filed in from a side door. Immediately behind them came the accused, Seth Coleman, along with a uniformed officer on each side of him. On their heels was Adam Burke.
A door opened on the other side of the room, and the bailiff came in with prosecuting attorney Hansel Vandeveer behind him. Vandeveer took his seat at a table to the left of the bench, and the defendant and Adam Burke sat at a table to the right. The two uniformed men moved to the door they had entered with the prisoner and leaned against the wall.
The court reporter entered and made his way to a small desk near the bench, notepad in hand.
There was a murmur of voices across the courtroom, but the sound faded quickly and died out as the door to the judge’s chambers opened and the bailiff said loudly, “All rise!”
When the shuffle of feet subsided, the bailiff spoke again: “Court is now in session, the Honorable Judge Lucius P. Shagley presiding.”
It was an equally hot day on Wednesday, August 8, and the courtroom was just as packed as it had been the previous two days. Women throughout the crowd used small fans to create a breeze on their faces.
Silence prevailed as the prosecuting attorney walked away from the jury box, having just delivered his final argument before the jury would retire for deliberations.
Adam Burke leaned close to his client and said, “Here goes. We’re going to win, Seth. You just hold on.”
Seth Coleman tried t
o smile but couldn’t quite manage it.
A few rows back, Lance Rankin focused his eyes on the words his apprentice was scribbling on his notepad. Derek was describing the contrast between the dark-haired, brown-eyed attorney and his blond, blue-eyed client.
Judge Shagley looked at Adam over half-moon spectacles and said, “Mr. Burke, you may now approach the jury to make your closing argument.”
Adam patted his client’s shoulder and made his way to the jury box.
He gazed at the twelve somber-looking men and said, “Gentlemen, no one in this courtroom envies your position. You have on your shoulders a very heavy responsibility. My client’s life is in your hands. We are all deeply sorry over the loss of Officer Lawrence Sheldon, who faithfully wore his badge and served this city well. My concern now is that we not lose another fine officer who has equally worn his badge and served us well.”
Hansel Vandeveer leaped to his feet. “Objection! Your honor, Mr. Burke is forgetting that Seth Coleman is on trial for murder. Such a crime would nullify any prior service to the city when Mr. Coleman wore his badge. Mr. Burke is planting misleading information in the minds of the jury.”
The judge was about to speak when Adam Burke said, “Your honor, may I respond to Mr. Vandeveer’s objection?”
Shagley nodded. “You may.”
“Thank you. Your honor, Mr. Vandeveer objects to my statement that Officer Seth Coleman has worn his badge faithfully and served this city well, saying that I am forgetting that my client is on trial for the murder of Officer Sheldon. I am not forgetting that fact at all. But Mr. Vandeveer is forgetting the foundational letter of the law: that my client is considered innocent until proven guilty. Therefore, I believe my statement regarding Officer Coleman’s record as an honorable member of our police force plants nothing but the truth in the minds of these gentlemen who comprise the jury. His record stands by itself.”
The judge nodded. “Objection overruled.”
Vandeveer sat down, a scowl on his face.
Adam turned back to the jury. “Gentlemen, you have heard the prosecution declare that the two witnesses to the murder of Officer Sheldon positively identified my client as the man they saw stab Sheldon to death on the night of July 10. Yet, under cross-examination, you heard both witnesses falter in their answers when I asked them point-blank if they could, without hesitation, pull the trapdoor lever on the gallows to send Seth Coleman to his death for the murder they say they saw him commit.