by Linda Hahn
The detectives nodded and one of them asked, “You mean her scam attempts?”, as though he already knew the answer. Apparently they’d heard of this from other people. It was public knowledge around our way after all.
I didn’t like being associated with that woman, and certainly not in front of strange cops. I guess they sensed my embarrassment for one of them said, “Women, huh? You never know when they’re going to turn on you.” Quickly I nodded and pointed out that it had been fifteen years ago. And I told them that in recent years it felt like our brief affair had never even happened.
It was then they asked where I’d been on the previous morning. Of course I told them that I’d been in bed until my usual rising time, about six thirty this time of year, depending on first light. I also informed the detectives of my usual morning routine, up until the time I met Murphy and shortly thereafter, Bob Milhaus. And being a bachelor, I had no witness to my activities.
They seemed satisfied with our interview and before leaving, asked me if I knew of anyone else they should talk with. I could think of no one and told them so. As they were leaving, they passed Murphy on his way in. He stepped aside for them quickly I noticed.
The first thing he said to me was “Cops, right? I can smell ‘em a mile away.” We both laughed and he asked if they were on the Frome case. I told him all about it, although I downplayed the romantic angle quite a bit.
Still, Murphy was a sharpie and he said her? with evident disbelief. I was uncomfortable with it but still managed to smile and shrug. You should’ve seen her fifteen years ago I told him. She was really something then. He grinned and said I’ll take your word for it.
Chapter 6
I suppose it shouldn’t have surprised me when Murphy was arrested for murdering the shopkeeper. But I hadn’t expected it at all and the breath went right out of me when I heard the news. I put my hand to my chest to shore up my heart. It was old Mr. Nailor that told me. That old man is more of a gossip than ten old women.
I’d been working in my garage that morning. I was calculating the best way to keep a table from wobbling when I first heard him wheezing his way down the street. I could tell by the way he was beating on his tired old body that it was something big. Something on the murder was my first thought, two days ago it happened, now something was shaking. And, although I usually avoid old man Nailor and his endless comment on trivia, this time I found myself all ears.
“Nicholas! What! You here!” He shouted all this directly in my face. I waited patiently for him to get a running start. “You heard what happened I suppose?” Tapering off the excitement I noticed, then eyeballing me to test audience receptivity. His performance would be a waste if I’d already heard the news. I kept waiting patiently until he spilled it.
“Nicholas! Do you know who was arrested this morning for killin’ that poor woman?” He waited until I said no, I didn’t know. We went through more careful eyeballing as regards audience response. Then he said, “Your friend, Murphy, Jimmy Murphy.”
Murphy! It couldn’t be. He didn’t do it. I tried to think through the cold shock battering my head. My breath shortened and the pain came into my chest but I willed it away.
Murphy would never do anything like that anyway. Then suddenly I knew why and it cleared my head. Murphy’s an ex-con, that’s why. They’re always first to be suspected when there’s trouble. I felt better knowing it and opened my eyes.
He was right there waiting too and continued with my full attention. “I was there when they took him away, Nicky . . . I saw everything. It was Bob Milhaus, our regular fella, and somebody I didn’t know that done it. Well sir, it’s a shock.”
“That boy Murphy, I surely do feel sorry for him. He took it awful hard young Murphy did. Yessir. Purely looked like death walkin’ the earth he did.”
“They wouldn’t even say where they was takin’ him and I’ve known that Milhaus brat for years. I might say a word or so to his pappy. Teach that boy some manners.”
Suddenly sad and disheartened, he told me would you believe I witnessed that boy take his first step. I didn’t know what to say to him, so continued to stare at him. I was still full shocked at Murphy’s arrest.
Finally he meandered away, still muttering about young puppies and respect for elders. I was left in the silence with the thought of Murphy taking it awful hard.
Chapter 7
I never considered for a moment that Murphy was in serious difficulties. Not at the first and not after I thought about it. He’d had nothing to do with it. It was after all simply a mistake that a finger had been pointed at him. And it was unfortunate that he had no plausible alibi. If only he’d gone to work that day is what I thought.
Embarrassment for him would be the result. It did cross my mind briefly that Murphy might be forced to prove his innocence. In which case, would it matter if the true culprit never came to light? It was a disquieting thought. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time. As God is my witness, I nearly shook when I thought how unlucky Murphy was.
Rather than circling in confusion, I decided to take action on the matter. Right away I went to offer whatever assistance I could to him. Finally I reached him huddled and forlorn in an interview room I guess it was within the city jail. Windows all around that I assumed were two way mirrors. I had no doubt there was someone on the other side seeking to gain information. That alone would explain my ability to get into the lockup so easily.
“Murphy.” I said it very quietly so as not to unsettle him. Slowly he moved himself to face me, all of his usual zest gone from him. He looked to me with tears in his eyes and I swear I had trouble containing my own tears. His spirit was broken and I thought so soon? What’s happened to bring it so soon?
We talked then for awhile and he was a different man that the one I’d known. I soon found that he’d given up. He was sure he’d be convicted of this crime by virtue of set-up. And he swore to me with the only strength I saw in him that he did not do it.
I assured him that I believed him and that the truth would come to light. But no, he was having none of it and clung to his knowledge of doom. I tried to make him fight for himself then and he looked bitterly at me. “You’ve never known the score.” he said.
I was deeply shaken when I left him. For the first time I realized how tightly bound the two of us had been. Friends were few with me; I hardly knew what to think. If it was this much of a shock for me then I couldn’t even imagine how it was for Murphy. What he must be thinking I couldn’t begin to fathom. The man was newly cast into hell. And for no reason that he knew.
It crossed my mind that Murphy was badly rattled; if I could get him out right away the damage would be stopped. He would surely improve on his own after a time. God only knew what would happen if he were forced to remain there in his condition. I remembered that he’d told me he’d never go back to prison. I remembered the wild unseeing horror in his eyes when he said it. He had a deep terror of it, I knew that.
Accordingly I sought out the bureaucrat in charge of making bail. Only to find out that I had to wait until the hearing on the following morning. That’s when Murphy would be formally charged. Those words formally charged gave me chills. Somehow it seemed even more serious with legalese like that being bandied about. The witch trials jumped into the forefront of my mind without bidding and I shuddered. Not possible in this day and age I thought and pushed the thought away from me. Rational thought was what was needed here.
Seeing that it was impossible to give Murphy respite at once, my next stop was the public defender’s office. Reassurance that Murphy would have proper defense was what I wanted. And I still wanted to get the problem of bail out of the way ahead of time. I needed to impress upon his attorney how important it was that Murphy be released until this sorrowful error was corrected. How very important it was to his health and state of mind. And being a civilized man, I was sure I could
make the public defender see this.
But I was wrong in thinking in terms of rights. Once the accusation is unleashed, the rights are minimized. And I had forgotten that one of the peculiarities of civilization is that it never quite extends to all citizens.
I left the attorney’s officer with a feeling of dread. I hadn’t fully realized how bad it was for Murphy. Now I was beginning to see it all very clearly. With his record and no other discernable suspects, they’d be after him like a pack of wolves. Even though he didn’t do it, my friend Murphy had grave trouble.
* * *
It was my poor luck that old man Nailor stopped by again that same day. I hadn’t been home but a few minutes when I heard the wheezing of his approach. He wanted to know if I’d gone to see Murphy and I told him that I had. Being a sage old man, he remarked that Murphy wasn’t taking it too well and I had to agree that he wasn’t taking it well. He waited for me to add something to that but I didn’t oblige him. Let him feed his own gossip train and leave me out of it.
“Well,” he said, “we’ll be findin’ out somethin’ tomorrow. You’re goin’ down there, ain’t ya?”
I wanted to punch him for his damnable nosiness but I knew there would be no percentage in it. Instead, oh so wearily I agreed that I would be at Murphy’s hearing. He hinted about what I might know regarding the case and I sidestepped him with smooth dexterity until I remembered that there was some information I wanted. Accordingly I inquired as to his whereabouts on the day of the crime, saying I didn’t remember seeing him around there. It was indeed highly unusual for him not to be present during a stimulating occurrence.
At once he looked faintly disgruntled and disappointed all over again. He grabbed himself a deep breath and admitted that family obligations had interfered. Clear across town he was, at his granddaughter’s house all day. Every once in a while he spent the day there. He added that his great-grandchildren were little bastards and if it weren’t for the sake of his granddaughter, he would never go anywhere near them. You don’t know how lucky you are he said to me.
I laughed and admitted that I had problems too. Then I came right out and asked him if he’d told the cops to come to me because I used to go out with Evelyn. This time I was the one doing the eyeballing, but I was careful to be very casual about it.
There was no hesitation in him, he was very quick to answer. “Sure, Nicky, sure I did. In the first place it’s common knowledge. And second, you want somethin’ like that out in the open. Right from the get go. Looks bad otherwise. Somebody might think you was tryin’ to hide somethin’.”
When I nodded at this bit of sagacity, he went on. “Take it from me, Nicky, you wouldn’t want that comin’ out later.” When I thought about it after he left, I could see where he might be right.
Chapter 8
I slept badly that night, worse than I had in a long time. The courthouse loomed before me and I couldn’t remember having walked there or even having gotten myself dressed. But no matter, once I shook the fog off I saw that there was plenty of time to see Murphy before court, so I headed over there.
In short order the jailor let me know that there would be no visits that morning. It seemed that the state was in full possession of Murphy’s body and soul until he could be proved innocent of the crime. I was so angry that I demanded to know if the man had no rights at all. The jailor was happy to agree that an imprisoned man had very few rights. He grinned coldly before he went on to inform me that these rights did not include haphazard visits. Although I was furious and sickened both, what amazed me was that this man enjoyed his power over me, over the prisoners. It glinted in his eyes like a new penny.
In front of the courthouse again, I breathed deeply to cleanse myself of the filthy sticky feeling that law enforcement was leaving me with. It didn’t help much, the air around the courthouse and jail tasted foul to me. It was an alien atmosphere. I’d always had great toleration for the police in the past, sometimes even respect, no reason not to. Now I felt smothered and sickened by the structure they pandered for. This legal business was beginning to assume monstrous proportions.
During the preliminary hearing I sat in the front row, just behind Murphy and as close as I could get. They brought him in with handcuffs and chains on his ankles, like he was some dangerous animal trying to escape and regain its freedom. When he got a look at me sitting there the corners of his mouth jerked slightly upward. It was an effort for him, I could see that.
I had a good long look at him, what I could see anyway. His head was bowed clear to his chest. Didn’t look like he had the gumption to lift it even. And no color to him either. Murphy looked like he was sick at heart. His attorney tried to get him talking a couple of times, but Murphy was lost in himself.
The whole process didn’t even take a full hour. Murphy was charged with premeditated homicide and robbery by the court. He didn’t respond to the hearing of it at all, didn’t even blink. It was his attorney who entered the not guilty plea. I saw Murphy’s head lift a few degrees when he heard that and I felt better. So he did have some fight left to him. I was pretty sure there was still a chance to fix everything and set it right.
After some other legal mumbo jumbo, the judge put the trial off for two months. Then he, the prosecutor, and Murphy’s attorney dickered back and forth over the amount of the bail. When the judge declared no bail and slammed down his gavel, I was so scandalized my head positively reeled from the shock of it. It was a possibility I hadn’t considered, not even on an off-chance.
I jumped right up and yelled no. He didn’t do it. I shouted that it was wrong to keep him locked up like an animal. It would kill him. The bailiffs grabbed me by the arms. They were trying to shut me up, but I just got louder to make sure the judge could hear me. I told them all. They didn’t have an ounce of proof. Murphy was being railroaded for something he hadn’t even done.
Even while I was doing it I saw how pointless my actions were. They arrested me then, while at the same time others were hustling Murphy back to the lockup. But it was mostly for show. Once the courtroom was emptied and the legal show was all over, they let me go. I was warned not to pull any more such stunts in the future. But if I was so anxious to see the inside of a jail cell, they would be happy to arrange it for me. I had calmed myself immediately after I was subdued by the bailiffs and I assured them that I would be no more trouble. It wouldn’t do to have me as well as Murphy locked away.
At the end of it, Murphy’s attorney was waiting to tell me that making waves was no help to his client. He asked instead that I try to enlist Murphy’s cooperation. It would be a greater help than antagonizing the judge he said.
* * *
Old man Nailor was loitering in front of my garage when I returned home. The first words out of his mouth were, “So you got yourself arrested, boy.” I looked him over sharply and noted that the pace of his breathing was unpressured. Meaning he’d had a fair amount of minutes to rest. Since my arrest had taken place within the past hour, the old man’s sources were rapid-fire. I should have known the old coot wouldn’t miss a beat, he never did.
I nodded to indicate that I had gotten myself arrested. You must have had a friend in the courtroom, Mr. Nailor I told him. He blustered proudly that he knew the court reporter. I believe he expected me to admire the cleverness of his source, but I only thought how sneaky and underhanded he was. However, since it was directly in front of me, I thought to do some information gathering myself and asked him what his friend had heard about Murphy’s chances.
While he hesitated it occurred to me how eager I was for another opinion. And that damned old man with his theatrical buildups was making me nervous. You’d think he was on a stage or better yet, directing the production. So I tried to work my face into acceptable bounds for him. Weariness is what worked.
He gave it to me abruptly once he decided to get on with it. After holding out for a good five minut
es. “Nicky, it don’t look good from what I hear.”
He paused for a moment to shake his head mournfully. I saw though that it didn’t stop him from keeping a sharp eye on me. Noticing that he seemed truly hesitant to tell what he knew, I pressed him to continue and he did. “Once in a while they got to make an example of someone. Might just be that Murphy draws that lot.”
I decided to ignore that comment because I didn’t like it. I asked if there was anything else. There was. Old Nailor happened to know that the judge was harsh on repeat offenders. For some reason this didn’t surprise me. I did however feel suddenly snappish and retorted that in this country the defendant must be proven guilty before sentencing, hanging judge or no.
Although he readily agreed, old man Nailor decided the time had come to go and he prepared to move on, but couldn’t resist one more comment in the face of my anger. Or maybe because of it. “No bail, huh?” is what he said. I offered no response to this and opened the door for his leave-taking.
Chapter 9
After that preliminary hearing I couldn’t get in to see Murphy for two more days. Visiting was only allowed twice a week, Tuesday and Friday. I could only wait and hope that Murphy was well. His attorney saw him once during that time and reported to me that his condition was unchanged. Very unresponsive he added and sighed deeply.
During this time I heard plenty of scuttle around the neighborhood. Most of the folks swallowed it whole. If he was arrested he must have done it, that was their thinking. Simpletons they were, unable to understand the mildest complexity. Some of them even said right out they’d seen it coming. Murphy was becoming something of a criminal legend around our way. The stories about him were far bigger than he was.