by Linda Hahn
Quickly I changed tacks and told him I’d run into a mutual friend on the previous day. He took the bait and wanted to know where. When I told him the tavern, he managed to laugh and groan at the same time. “Boss,” he said, “that’s a trip I’d surely like to take.” He said he could almost taste it.
We were quiet then for a minute or two. I said I was sorry about the vagabond not helping matters. He seemed to weigh it in his mind before passing judgment on the matter. In an offhand way he said “I told you that drifter wouldn’t do me any good.” I started to repeat what Canfield had told me about using it anyway, but Murphy sneered at me and stiffened up a mite, so I let it go.
Just then the guard came back to tell us our time was up. This time he knocked gently before opening the door. I noticed that Murphy took it much better that way. He was very matter of fact about it all and said “No sense drawing it out, boss, see you tomorrow.” We shook hands this time, then parted quickly and in silence.
Chapter 23
Long before the sun rose I was up and around. The day had come at last. I suppose that Murphy was waiting for the morning as well. I tried to shore myself up for the ordeal, but it didn’t work. All I felt was impending doom.
Of course it went badly. The signs had all been there, but I’d done my best to ignore them. I’d tried so hard that I’d disregarded the severity of the situation. Honestly, deep down I’d believed he couldn’t be convicted for something he hadn’t done. He was innocent after all, and therefore justice would prevail. But I was wrong. And all that could possible go wrong did so.
Murphy came in shortly before the judge. He looked terrible. It looked to me like he hadn’t slept at all the night before. He looked downright sick, like maybe he should have been in a hospital. He was stooped and limping, beaten and broken. His face was badly discolored, black, blue, gray, and yellow. And the deep ugly red of his cuts. Those cuts were the worst part; they looked like they’d just stopped bleeding a moment before. They were harsh looking and bright in that gloomy courtroom.
He looked around for me and I waved to show him where I was. He looked somewhat relieved, but I could see that the full courtroom bothered him. Canfield nodded to me before he guided Murphy into his seat. I watched for a minute while Canfield talked to Murphy fairly steady. I saw that Murphy nodded from time to time, whether in agreement or just to appease Canfield, I couldn’t tell.
I noticed old man Nailor across the way. He was looking fairly spry and had himself perched right on the edge of his chair. His face was bright with expectation. When he saw me looking at him, he made an effort to subdue his high spirits. Briefly the old coot managed to look mournful, but I could see it was an effort for him.
The trial started then. Canfield did his best and his reputation for being a good lawyer was well deserved; but the prosecution was swift and sure. Also merciless. Every point Canfield managed to raise was shot down. Arrogantly and completely.
Bob Milhaus was the first witness called up to testify. He’d been the first officer at the scene of the crime. Also he proved to be an effective character witness. He’d liked Murphy and never once believed that he’d committed the crime. Gut instinct probably. Bob’s testimony was going as smoothly as it could until Canfield tried something else.
Canfield was a slippery cuss, but having Bob state that Murphy was second on the scene didn’t quite have the desired effect. It sounded almost as if Murphy were gleefully enjoying every last bit of the crime. Like it was ice cream or something. To this day I don’t know how it got turned around like that. That damned prosecutor and his loaded questions.
All Canfield got out about the drifter was that there had briefly been another suspect, a traveling stranger. That was putting it politely if you ask me. Then the prosecutor demanded that the vagrant not be discussed since he had a proven alibi. During the wrangle though, a few items slipped through for the jury’s edification. Mainly that a drifter matching the description of the assailant had been seen in the vicinity.
Although he tried to repeat the more important points, Canfield didn’t get the time he needed to pound the message in. When he brought up the long black coat, asking Bob what the assailant might have been wearing and receiving the reply a long black coat, all the jury was wide eyed. The witness to this fact was Mrs. Byrd, now deceased, and the jury’s eyes moving back and forth between Bob Milhaus and Canfield became mere slits as they took this fact in. When Canfield asked what the vagrant was known to be wearing, the prosecutor nearly yelled that they had resolved that issue and the judge put a stop to it. He ruled in favor of the prosecution. So the jury was left thinking if it wasn’t the vagrant, who else could it be?
Next up was Mrs. Byrd’s homicide, which so closely resembled that of Evelyn Frome. Canfield asked Bob to describe the methods used to dispatch both women. Bob said they were both beaten to death with blunt objects, one in her place of business and one in the alley behind her house. Also that the crimes happened on the same corner, within weeks of each other. When Bob was asked if he thought it was the same perpetrator, he said he couldn’t be sure, both crime scenes were bloody and violent, Miss Frome was attacked from the front and Mrs. Byrd was attacked from the back. It appeared that the intent for the Frome murder was robbery and the intent for the Byrd murder was jealousy. The proximity of the crimes was bothersome, both in terms of time and place. But no murder weapon had been located for either crime; it was a blunt object but so far unidentified. And forensics couldn’t tell if the same object had been used on both women. Also Mrs. Byrd’s husband had been arrested for her murder. And apparently he had a reason since he believed himself to be cuckolded by her.
Canfield wasn’t fazed. He accepted it, then moved on to Murphy’s past criminal record. I didn’t like it, but I knew the point was to bring it up before the prosecution did. Murphy’s parole officer was sworn in. Boldly Canfield laid out the worst. Six convictions, all for petty thievery, no weapons involved, never anyone hurt. Three short-term stays on work farms and prison on his last two convictions. No time served on the first conviction because Murphy was a juvenile when it happened.
The parole officer swore that Murphy wasn’t a violent man, no history of it while on the outside. Canfield let it stand there. However the prosecution then questioned the parole officer and managed to keep using the words convict, criminal, and dangerous. The prosecution also suggested that Murphy was involved in violent gang activities while in prison before the judge said that had nothing to do with the charges at hand. Even though Canfield’s objection had stopped that line of questioning, it didn’t matter because the jury had heard it. Of course that kind of thing stuck in their minds.
Then Canfield paraded through Murphy’s former employer and landlord, I guess to show his life was a regular everyday one, just like everybody else. Both had to admit that he’d been an honest man in his dealings with them. Again a prosecution speech insisting that Murphy hadn’t always been honest, as proven by his numerous convictions for thievery. This was countered by Canfield saying that people change.
Canfield’s next point was the previous dealings Murphy had with the shopkeeper. Two other shopkeepers from our neighborhood took the stand. Both said that Murphy had done his shopping at their stores. One of Evelyn Frome’s neighbors testified next that Murphy did not shop at Evelyn’s store. Only the once.
Then of course the argument came up. The time that Murphy had accused Evelyn of stealing from him. Canfield hammered it in that Evelyn did this on a regular basis. Then he called three more witnesses to say the same thing. Evelyn Frome had regularly shortchanged her customers. Bad eyesight and early senility was the prosecution’s answer to that. And revenge as well as robbery was the reason Murphy murdered her.
Although I wanted to testify as a character witness, Canfield wouldn’t hear of it. Once he knew I dated her for a while, he said that would only prejudice the jury against
Murphy because it made the woman more human, more likable, more of a loss that she was dead. And Murphy was the only one at hand to blame for this. I was disappointed. I could have laid out Evelyn’s character as well as attesting to her thievery. I could have let them know what a fine person Murphy was, regardless of his past.
Canfield summed up with questions like where was the proof that Murphy did it. There was none, of course. And what reason could he have had? He next asked where the stolen money was. The prosecutor answered that one with well hidden.
Canfield went on to say that Murphy had rehabilitated far more than most since leaving prison, as proven by his boss and landlord. As witnessed by the policeman on the beat. Murphy had only the one experience with Evelyn From and carefully avoided her after that. Murphy had never been prone to any kind of violence in the past. A thief he had been, but a murderer he was not.
One last dramatic question and Canfield was finished. “Are all ex-convicts to be rounded up and executed?”
The prosecutor’s summation was so wildly inflammatory as to be ludicrous. Women alone and defenseless. Too weak to defend themselves. Terrorized by brutal criminal men. Worst of all, it could be your own mother, sister, daughter, wife. All so trite. He really should take the time to write new material. On second thought, why bother to fix what works?
The jury was retired with Murphy’s poor bruised face following their every step. After that, the judge granted an early lunch. I realized then that only one day and a half had passed. That’s all it took to lay out Murphy’s case, all day Tuesday and half a day on Wednesday.
After lunch I wandered back to the courtroom. To my surprise I found that the jury was back in. They had quickly finished their deliberations and it was truly over. Even before I had finished seating myself, Murphy was found guilty.
Canfield bowed his head. Murphy looked up to the heavens. Sentencing in two days said the judge and banged his gavel. I tried to get to Murphy but he was quickly taken away.
Chapter 24
The beast was romping wild when I returned home from court. Even as downcast as I was, I couldn’t have overlooked the sight. The cat looked as though it were possessed by a demon. First it would leap frantically into the air, then it would run insanely to another part of the yard. Sometimes it rolled itself into a ball, then would suddenly flick itself to full length. Its tail never stopped twitching and its eyes looked quite mad. Bemused, I watched it for a time.
I saw then too that fresh holes were dug all around the front steps. And the steps themselves were badly scratched with deep harsh gouges. I’d had enough and decided to deal with the neighbors at once. When I began crossing to the back yard, that damnable cat came tearing at me as though to claw at my eyes.
I could scarcely believe the audacity of the creature, but really hadn’t the time to dwell over it. However I did know that the beast had sadly mistaken the depth of my anger. I had no patience for the game and kicked it solidly, savagely as soon as it was close enough. That put a sudden stop to the evil beast’s amusement. It yowled with pain as it escaped my yard.
I noticed more holes as I walked. It looked as though the cat had a vendetta against me, something personal. At the back gate I met the neighbors. Obviously they’d been waiting to speak with me. It was one day after the appointed day after all. I’d come home fairly late on the previous day after that first day at court and I hadn’t even thought about the cat and its owners. I didn’t even pause on my own doorstep; the rigor of court had drained me so much.
They were sheepish and looked to the ground for the most part. Right off they admitted their error. That was mildly satisfying. However I found no joy in them being wrong; on the contrary, I felt sad for them and their impending loss. I should have been happy to be rid of the cat, but I wasn’t. I’m not such a hardhearted person; I could feel that a pet is like a member of the family. I could never go for it myself, but I wasn’t lacking in understanding.
Thank God they had the decency and good common sense not to request some kind of extension on the time limit. I appreciated the fact, being in no mood to resume negotiations with them. Instead they promised me that the cat would be removed as soon as it could be located and caught. I didn’t ask what they intended to do with it, I didn’t care. I was finished with the mess.
It wasn’t quite over though; the neighbors felt the need to continue our communication. They offered to work in my yard, filling holes and such, to make up for all the beast’s damage. Particularly they wanted to fix the porch. I told them it wasn’t necessary. Not allowing them to continue with their attempts to mollify me, I put an end to the conversation, waving them away as I did so.
Before I went in the back door, I looked around to the front for the cat again. No cat, but I saw old Nailor standing on the sidewalk looking straight at me. Must have been watching for me. He called for me to join him and waved his scrawny arms at me, but I couldn’t stomach it. Not one more second could I think about what had just happened to Murphy. I shook my head and went inside.
Chapter 25
I first woke to dull rage that next day. And then felt agony before I could even tell why. Soon after there was a call from Canfield. He wanted to tell me about the special visiting arrangements he’d made for Murphy. It was a fairly common deal the day before sentencing he said.
I could think of no answer to this, so remained silent. “Look.” he said. I could tell by his tone he meant to be patient. “It’s not over yet. I can ask for an appeal. There’s a panel of three judges looking at the case today. They vote in the morning right before sentencing. If they vote for an appeal, sentencing will be suspended. Pending outcome of the appeal. So it’s not over yet.”
We’ll know in the morning, is that it? I was angry and snapped at him. Canfield, not another word. I mean it.
After a moment of silence I was sorry for my outburst and told him so. He said, “Sure, sure. Trials take a lot out of a person.” Said he’d had trouble sleeping lately too. He asked if I would try to be calm for Murphy’s sake. Of course I would, the last thing Murphy needed was for me to lose my temper.
After Canfield hung up, I realized it was hard for him too. He not only lost the case, he lost Murphy as well. I remembered what he said about fifty percent of the appeals resulting in dismissals and suspended sentences and I laughed. He forgot to mention if the appeal was granted. And they were granted in only one out of a hundred cases. That I did know. Canfield must be taking it very hard indeed.
I went down to see Murphy. Immediately after the trial, Murphy had been moved to the local prison. It was a fifty mile drive from my house. Security was even tighter than at the jail and he was in a small wing of the prison off by himself. I was escorted back there by a guard with a thoroughly cheerful disposition, a jarring mismatch to his job. The contrast between the smiling guard and the awful place was disorienting. I felt as if I were walking into a cave. Loud echoing footsteps. I thought that it would be hard to sneak up on Murphy in here.
Right into his cell they took me. I was horrified at the sight of him; he’d aged a good deal overnight. There was no light in his eyes, no smile on his bruised face. The taking away of hope is a truly destructive thing.
Murphy, I can’t believe it I told him sadly. I looked at him and said I never thought a thing like this could happen. Never. Looking at him then made so much pain in my eyes that I had to look away.
“I told you, boss. I told you.” was what he said.
I slumped on his cot and put my head in my hands. “Don’t take it so hard, boss.” he said. His voice was heavy and dull. Dead already is how he sounded. I was incredulous to realize he was comforting me.
With an effort I looked him in the face. I told him if there was anything I could do for him I would do it. It was completely without meaning, but there was nothing else to say. He nodded but made no response for a moment or so.
Finally he said he was glad it was over. I knew that he meant it.
I agreed that the waiting had been hard enough to break a man. He nodded slowly after he thought about it. After that we had nothing more to say. We sat together quietly until the guard said our time was up. Murphy offered his hand to me but this time I didn’t take it. I put both my hands on his arms and squeezed until something flickered in his eyes. Then I stepped away and left him.
* * *
By the time I got out of Murphy’s cavelike section my chest was as tight as though someone had bound it in steel. I was beginning to feel the weight and pressure of the building around me. Actually I was somewhat surprised that it hadn’t happened sooner, I never did take well to being penned in. My vision started to blur then and I don’t remember how I got myself out of the building.
I sat for awhile in my car and slipped a pill under my tongue. Too late though, the pain had started. I drifted through it until it tapered off. I was groggy by the end of it, but one thought was clear. I had to see the doctor.
Once I could drive without losing consciousness, I headed over there. Told the doctor how it had been lately. He wanted to know the circumstances. Where I’d been and who I’d been with. So I told him about Murphy and what had happened to him.
He said, “Too much tension and stress. Don’t get so caught up in other people’s problems. Think of yourself first.”
I heard him still talking and lecturing as I went through the door. “Don’t listen to gossip if it bothers you and stay away from the jail. It’s your friend’s problem, not yours.”
Chapter 26
The neighbors knocked on my back door shortly after I got home. I was exhausted but went ahead and opened it anyway. They wanted to tell me that they hadn’t been able to find the cat. It had disappeared. They knew not where.
