East of Orleans

by Renee' Irvin

  Jacqueline heard Patrick coming down the hall outside their hotel door. They had left town for a few days to try and forget Jules and all that was troubling them, but most of all to celebrate their marriage. There were other things that he was pressuring her to tell him. Things like the morning Jacob Hartwell was killed. This, she knew she had to tell him; she just had not found the right moment—maybe the opportunity was now.

  Patrick opened the door and came in with the morning newspaper in his hand. “Prominent banker’s missing son found dead,” said Patrick.

  “What?” said Jacqueline. She reached out for the newspaper and Patrick handed it to her. Jacqueline read the headlines and she felt sick. She was hoping to tell Patrick about Jacob in her own time, but she supposed now was the time.

  “Do you have something that you want to tell me?” he asked.

  Jacqueline put out her hands. “I didn’t lie to you, I just didn’t tell you everything that happened and why I left so abruptly.”

  “My darling, how can I help you if you don’t tell me everything,” said Patrick. “When are you going to stop doubting my love for you? Jacqueline, it’s time you place some trust in someone in this world. I am never going to abandon you, do you understand? Your mother, your father, Jules, everybody in your entire life has either deserted or tried to destroy you. I am not going to do that. I love you. If I have to tell you every day of your life, I want you to believe me. For months I’ve heard rumors; all over town. Rumor is that Jules McGinnis sent that low-life Hoyt, and his nephew Jacob Hartwell, to throw you out of your house after his cotton fields were burned. It’s being said all over town that there were five of you in the house that morning—you, Hoyt, Jacob, Isabella and Jesse. Word is that there must have been a fight and somebody killed the Hartwell boy. Of course, we all know that Hoyt was found dead not long after all this took place. And that was no loss—I’m sure a lot of people were mighty pleased when that sonofabitch was found dead. Hell, anybody could have killed that bastard. If given the chance, I would have done it.”

  Jacqueline looked around, confused. “I don’t know where to start.” Patrick placed his arm around her shoulder and whispered, “Just start at the beginning.”

  “Did you kill him?” Jules asked Isabella.

  “I wanted to, I wanted to more than I’ve ever wanted to do anything, but no, I did not.”

  “Then who did?” Jules asked.

  “It was an accident,” Isabella said, under considerable strain.

  Jules nodded and lit a cigar. “Well, nothing can change the fact that he’s dead and from everything that you’ve told me, hell, he deserved it.”

  Isabella broke down and cried. “He killed my daddy, it was him all along. He raped me and then he killed my daddy,” she said crying hysterically.

  Jules stood, silently staring into the distance with a pained look on his face. “That boy was always troubled, no one could reach him. You hate to think that some people are just born bad, but I believe that was the case with Jacob. There were many times that I tried to know him, but I never could. Maybe he was just weak; he wanted everyone to think he was strong, but he wasn’t.” Jules didn’t know what to say to Isabella. He couldn’t tell her that Jacob was his son, but he knew that he would have to and soon. Mae was not going to let Jacob’s murder be forgotten. Soon, everyone from Savannah to Atlanta would know that he was Jacob Hartwell’s father. In the past, he had been able to pay Mae off, but not this time; this time Jules knew that Mae would go to her death before she let this go.

  Two days had passed when Jules noticed that a man had been following him to the warehouse. Jules turned around, waiting for the stranger to approach him. But it was the stranger who was the first one to speak. “Good morning, are you Jules McGinnis?”

  “That depends.” Jules smiled removing a cigar from his mouth. The man stuck out his hand to shake Jules’s hand. With hesitation, Jules shook the man’s hand.

  “I’m the lead prosecutor on a case that’s going to be coming up in Effingham County,” said the man.

  “Yeah—” said Jules.

  “Grand jury met this morning and looks like there’s reason for questioning,” said the prosecutor.

  “So, if you have some time, I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

  “Well, actually Mr.—?”

  “Jones, Noble Jones,” said the man.

  “Mr. Jones, I don’t have any time or any information for you.”

  In a clear and sarcastic voice, Mr. Jones said, “Mr. McGinnis, if might be in your best interest to find some time. This thing is going to get ugly.”

  Jules slammed the door behind them and looked the prosecutor directly in the eye. “I’ll give you five minutes. Anything you want to ask me, you better ask me now. After your five minutes are up, if you come back in this warehouse, you better bring a subpoena or a gun with you.”

  “Is that a threat, Mr. McGinnis?”

  “Take it any way you want,” said Jules. He sat down in his leather chair behind his oak desk and removed a bottle of whiskey and a crystal glass from his desk drawer. The prosecutor pulled up a chair and sat down across from Jules. “You want a drink of this?” Asked Jules.

  Noble shook his head. “I’ll get straight to the point, Mr. McGinnis. Where were you the day Jacob Hartwell was killed?”

  Jules swung around in his chair and looked out over the river. He took a swig of his whiskey.

  “Mr. McGinnis, did you understand the question I asked you?”

  “Hell, yeah, I heard your goddamn question. Jacob Hartwell was my nephew and I’m still trying to get over the shock of his death. You know, it ain’t been that long since they found his body.”

  “Yes, I realize that, Mr. McGinnis, and you have my condolences, but it seems there are a lot of people that would have liked to see Jacob dead. You must understand I’m just trying to do my job.”

  There was a long pause, and then Jules said, “Noble, is it all right if I call you Noble?”

  The prosecutor nodded and smiled.

  “I firmly believe that my nephew’s death was caused by something he done to someone, and as bad as I hate to think it, I’m convinced that he deserved what happened to him. Who killed him? Who knows? I’m like you; from what I hear, it could have been a lot of people. However, I don’t want to see any more people that I care for get hurt. Do you understand what I’m saying? What would it take for you to forget about this investigation? I hear there’s an election coming up next year. Hell, Savannah could use a good understanding man like yourself for a judge.”

  Noble snapped, “Mr. McGinnis, are you trying to bribe me?”

  “Bribe you?” asked Jules, “Why, hell no; I’m trying to convince you to protect some good honest people and I’ll return the favor,” said Jules. He lit a cigar and glanced at Noble Jones.

  “Thanks for the offer, Mr. McGinnis, but I have a job to do.” The prosecutor stopped for a moment and then said, “And by the way, I do have a subpoena. You are to appear before the grand jury fifteen days from today.” Noble Jones lay the subpoena on Jules’s desk, turned and walked out the door of the warehouse on Bay Street. Jules sat in his chair, drained of all emotion, and finished the bottle of whiskey.

  Two weeks passed and Savannah was a very nervous town. Jacqueline and Patrick O’Brien had received a subpoena, as well as Kate, Jesse, Isabella, Jules, Mae Patterson, and even Annalee Hancock. At the last minute, Jules thought that the assistant to the prosecutor was going to take a bribe, but then he got scared and backed out. On the day before his inquisition, Jules and his lawyer met at his lawyer’s office. Jules lawyer was the son of a former high ranking federal judge and Jules felt that he and Isabella were in competent hands. His attorney told them to be sure they looked at the jury when they answered their questions. “Look them direct in the eye,” he said. Jules and Isabella left the courtroom comparing notes and with the jury whispering. The whole town was whispering. Jules knew that there were a lot of secrets being prot
ected and he wondered how long before they all hatched out. When he and Isabella arrived back home, Jules left for Patrick O’Brien’s tavern down on Riverstreet. And for good reason. Jules was certain that Isabella would have figured out by now that Jacob was his son, but she had not. He wondered how much time he had before she put it all together.

  By early evening the scandalous news was all over Savannah. Mae Patterson, owner of a bordello north of Atlanta was the mother of Jacob Hartwell and his father was Jules McGinnis. Small crowds were breaking up around the courthouse and gossip filled the streets. Reporters were starting to arrive in town to write the story and one of the reporters was a young journalist named Thomas Slaughter, from the Atlanta newspaper. They were all there to get the story, but that was not all that Tom was after. He had come to reclaim the woman he loved, Isabella McCoy McGinnis.

  Large photos of Jacob Hartwell’s face flashed across the front pages of newspapers. There was a lot of speculation as to who killed Jacob and why, but the most popular theory was that he went to get Jacqueline Rousseau out of his uncle/father’s house and she shot and killed him. Of course, there were conflicting sources about this account. Rumor was that Annalee Hancock had seen Jesse Rucker, the Negro employee of Jules and Isabella McGinnis drag a blood soaked sheet with something heavy rolled up in it and load it up into the carriage of Mrs. McGinnis. There were also rumors that Jacqueline was pregnant by Jacob Hartwell and he went there to confront her about having Patrick O’Brien living with her, they got into a scuffle and she shot and killed Jacob. Theories were flying all over the place about who killed Jacob Hartwell, and many of them were perfectly reasonable.

  Finally, the newspapers got the story they wanted. Jacqueline Rousseau O’Brien was charged with murder, handcuffed and led to jail with her small army of lawyers. Isabella froze as she thought of her friend being sent to prison or off somewhere for women with un-sound minds.

  Patrick never imagined that not long after saying, “I do,” he would spend countless hours going over one testimony after another in an attempt to find justice for his bride.

  Jules thought that he could pull off bribing the prosecutor, but when that didn’t happen, he went to work seeking favors owed from powers higher up. He had financed two governors and a president, and he was not about to stand back and watch while the woman whom he had never stopped loving was sent to prison for a crime she didn’t commit.

  Jacob Hartwell’s death had changed the social structure of Savannah. The artists in Forsyth Park, instead of painting ladies of leisure out for an afternoon stroll, now painted the reality likeness of jurors, prosecutors, journalists and anyone that was apt to have a seat in this high profile trial.

  A court date was set for a month later and the Desoto Hotel began to fill up with journalist from far away. There had also been much speculation about the death of Jules foreman, Hoyt. And it was generally agreed that he must have been killed by someone that had something to do with the death of Jacob Hartwell. Both the prosecutor and the judge kept armed deputies around them.

  On the first day of the trial, whispers were rampant as Isabella McGinnis entered the courtroom. Stoically, she took a deep breath and walked to the front of the courtroom. Isabella slid into a cramped aisle seat next to Kate. Kate leaned toward her, whispering, “Did you hear that Patterson woman and some of those girls that work for her are going to testify against Jacqueline?”

  Isabella closed her eyes. “Just think, Kate, that it will all be over with soon.”

  “Where’s Jules?” asked Kate.

  “He said he was going to look for some coffee.”

  “I didn’t know he drank coffee,” said Kate.

  “He don’t,” said Isabella.

  “I heard he tried to give boatloads of money to stop this mess,” said Kate, “As, many differences as he and Patrick have had, I just want you to know we appreciate everything that he has tried to do.”

  “Jules said that if it were not for this young prosecutor who is out to make a name for himself, he could have gotten something done,” said Isabella.

  “Patrick thinks that once the trial begins and the prosecutor realizes that he does not have a case, that he will drop it,” said Kate.

  Isabella pulled Kate close to her. “I pray to God he’s right.”

  Isabella heard loud voices, then familiar footsteps. “Good morning, Brother Carver, Mary Lee. Is the reverend here yet?” asked Jules. Brother Carver strained to lean forward in his seat. “Is your back giving you trouble this morning, son?” asked Jules.

  “Yeah, it has been for awhile, I reckon it’s a touch of arthritis. No, I passed the reverend out in the hall a little while ago; I believe he was going to go in and try to have a word of prayer with Brother Noble. This is a mess, isn’t it, Jules?”

  Brother Carver started to stand up. “Keep your seat, hell, you don’t need to be moving around in your condition,” said Jules. “Hell, I’m just proud to have friends here, yeah, it’s a shame that I lost my nephew; then my wife and Mrs. O’Brien all get pulled into this mess. Regardless, we’ll get it all straightened out. Just appreciate you coming,” said Jules, patting Brother Carver on the shoulder. At that moment Jules spotted his brother-in-law Rollins Hartwell enter the courtroom. Jules walked up to Rollins and placed his arm around his shoulder. “Everything’s fine,” said Jules.

  Rollins stared vacantly into the distance. “Hell, everything’s not fine. I checked on everything before I left home and I thought this case was wrapped up. You sold out you sonofabitch. I guess Liza and I overlooked the fact that you were sleeping with that whore. My boy was slaughtered like a lamb and you might as well have been the one to sacrifice him,” said Rollins as he stormed off.

  Jacqueline walked into the courtroom, a free woman, her husband had made her bail. Jules pulled her to the side and said, “Where is that husband of yours?”

  “Why do you care?” she whispered

  “Don’t worry, baby, you ain’t going anywhere,” he said in a low voice.

  “Haven’t you learned everyone’s not for sale,” she whispered.

  Jules leaned to her side and said, “For the right price they are, darling.”

  Jacqueline pushed past Jules and walked to the front of the courtroom to find her husband and her army of lawyers. Everyone in the courtroom turned to look at her. To the most critical eye, Jacqueline was modestly dressed, but even so, her full ruffled skirt with the high tailored bustle exaggerated her feminine curves. Jacqueline’s bustle jutting out in the back emphasized a tiny corseted waist and very rounded derriere. Kate O’Brien heard Annalee Hancock whisper to Lucy Baker, “Look at her strut like a peacock!” Kate turned around in her seat and gave Annalee a furious look and then turned back around.

  Jacqueline seated herself at the first bench on the left in the front of the courtroom. Isabella sat directly behind her. Isabella whispered to Jacqueline, “Have you been here long?”

  “No, I just got here.”

  Suddenly lawyers adjusting their reading glasses and shuffling papers as they made their way to their seats overran the courtroom. After a few minutes of making acquaintances, the court was called to order. Jacqueline listened while the State of Georgia called their first witness, Mae Patterson. Mae hurt Jacqueline’s case from the start. She told of how Jacqueline had sought employment at her boarding house in Norcross and while she was there how she had an endless supply of clients. Mae clenched her hands and with a tight face, began to tell her theory of why Jacqueline killed Jacob Hartwell. The prosecutor of Effingham County said to Mae, “Was there any reason, in your opinion, Miss Patterson, that Jacqueline Rousseau O’Brian would have wanted to see Jacob Hartwell dead?” Mae glanced around, her eyes stopped at Jules and she smiled. The prosecutor said, “Miss Patterson, I repeat, in your opinion, was there any reason that Miss Rousseau would have wanted to see Jacob Hartwell dead?” After a long pause, Mae said, “Yes, Jacqueline Rousseau was having an affair with Jules McGinnis and she was upset when she
found out Jacob was our son.”

  “What—!” screamed Isabella.

  Jacqueline was in shock, but then she thought how Jacob had seemed so familiar to her. That was why—he was Jules’s son. The judge demanded order in his court and warned Isabella that if she screamed out again, she would be asked to leave the courtroom for the remainder of the trial. As the crowd was settling down Isabella got up from her seat to walk outside for a breath of air. She met Jules as she started toward the back door and said, “Nothing ever changes, does it? When were you going to tell me, never? I’m just another one of your fools, aren’t I, Jules?” Jules offered Isabella his arm, but she pushed right past him and walked to the door. As she started to go outside, a voice said, “Who killed Jacob Hartwell?” Isabella knew the voice; she turned and looked direct into the eyes of Tom Slaughter. He was wearing a white collared shirt with a narrow lapel, brown trouser pants and a fitted coat. He smiled and nodded. “I assume you know who killed Hartwell, so who are you trying to protect?”

  “Maybe me,” she said.

  “I believe you had good reason, but you didn’t do it,” said Tom.

  “How do you know?” she asked.

  Tom lowered his head. “Because I know you.”

  “That was years ago,” she said.

  He whispered, “Some things don’t ever change.”

  Isabella’s eyes misted with tears. “When’d you get here?”

  “Got here yesterday.”

  Jules walked up and studied Tom and Isabella. “Is this a private conversation?” Jules said.

  He and Tom exchanged introductions and then Tom bowed his head and pushed his hands deep into his pants pockets. He looked back up and said, “Isabella and I were childhood friends. I’m surprised she hasn’t mentioned me.”