The Transcendental Murder (11 page)

Thirty seconds after Sergeant Luther Ordway had hung up on Mrs. Jellicoe, a small parade of cars was turning out onto Walden Street, with Jimmy Flower already ticking off on his fingers a list of things to do. At the bridge he took calm and swift control. Patrolman Harold Vine passed on to him Arthur Furry's information and described the examination of the body by Mr. Ralph Chope of Houston, Texas. Chief Flower asked a few questions of Arthur Furry and Ralph Chope. He looked at Arthur's bright eye and flabby, pale face and directed that he be sent home in a patrol car. Then, after examining the body of Ernest Goss, he walked along the shore, looking at the ground. He peered across the bridge to inspect the place where the horseman had jumped the fence. He climbed over the fence in another place and walked gingerly around the area where the footprints of several hundred Boy Scouts were overprinted with the marks of a horse's hooves. Then he came back again the same way and did a number of things very quickly. He gave directions to the photographers, he organized a search of the immediate area for the weapon or for anything else of interest, and he dispatched Sergeant Silverson with two men to drive around by way of Liberty Street and attempt to pick up the trail at the point where Arthur had indicated the rider had left the field. He directed Sergeant Ordway to take charge of the on-the-spot investigation. Then he took the arm of Sergeant Bernard Shrubsole. “Let's go up to Charley's,” he said. “We'd better round up Philip, too. There was some sort of hanky-panky with the Battery cannon this morning.” On the way to the car they passed District Medical Examiner Walter Allen, hurrying up with his bag. Dr. Allen nodded without speaking.

It was quarter of two as they drove up Barrett's Mill Road past the Hand place and turned into the long drive that curved around in front of the Goss house. “Look, there he is,” said Sergeant Shrubsole. Charley Goss was walking up from the barn with a hurried, distorted, limping gait. He came hobbling to the car, looking distraught, and leaned down to the window.

“I know what you've come for,” he said. “I'll come with you. My mother isn't well. I don't want her to see you.”

“All right, Charley,” said Chief Flower, his voice gruff. “Climb in. But some of my boys will be along shortly to look around. “Where's your brother?”

Charley climbed in the back seat and sat down by Bernard Shrubsole. He was wearing khaki trousers and a white shirt and a pair of dirty tennis shoes. He was shivering. “Philip? Oh, I suppose he's s-still at the Rod and Gun Club with the Battery, having lunch.”

“Well, I'll get out there, Bernie, and you can go on and take Charley to the station. One of the boys will bring me back.” He looked back at Charley. “Look, go in and get your coat.”

“No,” said Charley, “I'm all right.”

“Now, Charley,” said Jimmy Flower, “you know what your rights are, don't you? To an attorney, I mean. I just want to be sure you …”

“An attorney?” said Charley. He was shivering uncontrollably. “Why should I need an attorney? I'm perfectly willing to admit that I shot my f-f-father myself.”

Chapter 20

	The station of the parties
Forbids publicity,
But Justice is sublimer
Than arms, or pedigree.
EMILY DICKINSON

At the Rod and Gun Club on Strawberry Hill Road the pie à la mode had just been placed on the table, and the members of the Concord Independent Battery were attempting to launch it into a sea of whiskey in which fragments of spaghetti and meat balls and green salad were already bobbing uneasily around. Police Chief Jimmy Flower's sobriety was taken as a profound tragedy and a personal insult. Jimmy was well known as a good fellow and a worthy citizen—why the heck did he look so grim? Surely he was badly in need of a little refreshment. Refreshment was thrust upon him. Chief Flower refused refreshment. Then Harvey Finn, looking him over critically, took querulous exception to Chief Flower's rubbers. He had never, he said, seen a more teetotalling, puritanical pair of rubbers in his life. “Take 'em off,” he commanded, weaving imperiously across the floor.

“Take 'em off, take 'em off, ree-move 'em,” sang Jerry Toplady.

Chief Flower ignored Harvey Finn. He crossed the room in his rubbers and sat down at the table beside Philip Goss. He put his chin in his small hand and looked at Philip. Philip's face was highly colored. He leaned back in his chair unsteadily, and looked back at Chief Flower.

“Where is your father, Philip?” said Chief Flower.

“My father?” said Philip, seeming to think it over. He turned his head around jerkily. “He wazh here a while 'go.”

“He went out, that's right, a while ago, 'n 'e didn' even come back, I guess.” Jerry Toplady nodded and nodded. “See? He didn't even eat his dinner.”

“What time did he go out?”

“Jeez,” said Jerry proudly. “I couldn' even see the clock. I was unner the table half 'n hour awready.”

Chief Flower turned back to Philip. “Your father is dead, Philip. He was killed by someone with a musket ball at the North Bridge a little while ago. A witness saw a man dressed like Sam Prescott riding away on horseback immediately after the shot was fired.”

Philip Goss lost all his high color abruptly. He stood up suddenly and stooped over and started to run, his hand over his mouth. Chief Flower started up out of his chair, then sat down again. Philip was going to the bathroom to be sick. After a while he came back and leaned weakly against the wall, looking very white indeed. The members of the Battery looked at one another in shocked silence.

“I don't know what you want with me,” said Philip coldly. “I know nothing about it. Nor will I answer any questions until I can discuss the matter with George.”

“George?” said Jimmy. “George who?”

“George Jarvis. My law partner.”

Chapter 21

	When everything that ticked—has stopped—
And Space stares all around—
EMILY DICKINSON

A bird in the lilac bushes beside the Gosses' front door creaked like a guilty bedspring. Mary hesitated, then rang the bell. She had to find out what was going on. She wasn't prying, was she? She wanted desperately to help.

Edith came to the door, her hair wild. She put out her hand and grasped Mary's arm. “Come in. I thought you were the doctor for mother. She's in such a dreadful state. Nobody can make anything of it. She doesn't make sense. Oh, isn't it dreadful? How could Charley? Poor Daddy! They're questioning us, Chief Flower and Homer Kelly. Rowena and Mother are in there now. It's my turn next. But I don't know anything. I don't know anything at all. I was out walking around Annursnac Hill, at the time.”

“It must be awful for all of you. I'm sorry. Did you say Kelly, Homer Kelly?”

“Yes, you know he's a Lieutenant-Detective for Middlesex County from the District Attorney's office. Didn't you know? Writing books on Emerson is just his hobby, or something.”

Mary didn't know. She was thunderstruck. “Where's Charley?”

“They're holding him for questioning at the Police Station. Do you think they'll put him in jail? They've got Philip there, too. But they say it was Charley that did it. Oh, isn't it dreadful? How could he have been so foolish? Always so much wilder than Philip. Oh, dear.”

Mary looked at Edith, feeling a little dizzy. She had the odd suspicion that Edith was enjoying herself. Her eyes were big and woeful, her voice almost gleeful. Like those people who read headlines aloud with gloating melancholy: FATHER KILLS SELF, FIVE CHILDREN.

The door opened and Rowena came out. Homer Kelly held the door open, his hand on the knob. He saw Mary.

She blurted it out. “I-I didn't know you were a policeman.”

Homer looked tired. He turned away and looked at nothing. “Even Apollo had to plow for King Admetus,” he said. His voice was dry.

He meant, like Brpnson Alcott. Jimmy Flower came out, rubbing his hand across his bald head. Invisible inside the room beyond, there was a woman laughing. It was a peculiar, babbling laugh. Rowena looked up at Homer. “Is there anything else I can do to help?” She was wearing black already. No lipstick. Just mascara. Lovely and tragic. Her father was dead, her brother under suspicion, her mother collapsed or something—but Rowena the actress was playing a part, just as Edith was in her clumsier way. Mary asked after Charley.

“He's confessed,” said Homer shortly.

Confessed.
Oh, oh, no. Mary put out an unbelieving hand. Her eyes filled with tears. She turned her back on them, pushed open the front door and stumbled out. The door closed after her, and she started home, her knuckles in her mouth, thinking wretched thoughts.

Chapter 22

	Let us settle ourselves, and work and wedge our feet downward through the mud and slush of opinion … till we come to a hard bottom and rocks in place, which we can call reality … a place where you might found a wall or a state.
HENRY THOREAU

Jimmy Flower had dragged another desk into his office for Homer Kelly. But Homer wasn't using it, he was leaning against the wall. Jimmy sat on his swivel chair, screwed high up with his feet off the floor. Philip Goss and his law partner, George Jarvis, sat in the two hard-backed chairs. Harold Vine took notes.

Philip answered most of the questions himself, calmly, in his clear voice, progressing in polished sentences from subject to predicate, adorning them with dependent clauses and participles that never dangled. Now and then there was a gentle demur from George Jarvis, uttered in the politest tone, with an air of such extreme courtesy that one hardly knew that a question was being parried and set aside. There was an atmosphere of extreme fair play.

No, Philip had not seen his father leave the Rod and Gun Club. Yes, it was true that he himself had left for an interval. No, he wasn't sure of the time, nor how long he had been out. He had felt the need of fresh air to clear his head. Jerry Toplady had mixed the drinks with a heavy hand and Philip had never been able to live up to the Battery's mighty reputation for stowing it away. Where had he gone? To Nicholson's Barn, by the old sawmill there. No, he didn't think anyone had seen him, he had kept away from the road.

Jimmy asked him point-blank if there had been time for him to have walked home, changed clothes, ridden Dolly to the bridge, shot his father, ridden back home, changed clothes again and come back to the Rod and Gun Club?

Philip frowned and hesitated. George Jarvis broke in softly. How long did Chief Flower think all those things would take?

Chief Flower thought it would be hard to squeeze ‘em all in under an hour.

Perhaps, George Jarvis thought, it would be preferable if Chief Flower simply asked Philip whether or not he had been away for an hour.