says to tell you, no pies on Tuesday,” John said, hoisting the basket onto the long table. The smell of baked chicken and herbs emerged as John lifted the cloth and unloaded piles of biscuits and bread. Plates were laid out all around, and John handed one up to Snarky.
“Thanks, lad. You’re worth your weight in gold,” Snarky said, tucking a napkin under his chin. Clinton and Thayer pushed papers away from the table to make room for their meal. There was an envelope in the basket and Clinton picked it up.
Darling,
Remember how frightened she will be,
Good luck today,
ECC
At breakfast that morning, Elisabeth had a law book at the table when he came down. “If she is a witness at the inquest, is she compelled to testify?” she asked, flipping through for the citation. The Coroner’s inquest had dragged on; it was now two weeks old, an unprecedented length of time, and Emma Cunningham was still sequestered by Connery in her bedroom upstairs.
“In essence, yes,” Clinton answered. The Coroner had interviewed close to a hundred acquaintances of Dr. Burdell, medical colleagues, neighbors, shopkeepers, and servants, but he was saving Emma Cunningham and her daughters for last.
“But the statute does not say that a coroner can hold persons on suspicion of guilt, only as witnesses. If she were a suspect to the crime, that would be unlawful imprisonment.”
“Exactly,” he said, hastily eating his eggs and toast. He was preparing to serve Coroner Connery with a writ of habeas corpus,releasing her from the house arrest. Connery was enjoying his time in the limelight, not ready to relinquish his power. No one had ever tried to stop an inquest, or challenge the grim majesty of the Coroner.
“Are you serving the papers today?” she had asked.
“I understand that they will be signed and ready by the afternoon.”
‘Since you will meet all sorts of bedlam when you go to the house to release her, why don’t you take the sheriff along and have his wagons waiting?” said Elisabeth. “That way you can go straight downtown with an escort.”
“That’s a brilliant idea,” he said to Elisabeth. “I hadn’t thought of that. The bedlam will mostly be of the Coroner’s making, and he may even order me to be arrested. With the sheriff present, even in handcuffs, we can make it safely downtown to a hearing on the writs. Then the house arrest will certainly end.”
For a short while the office was quiet except for the avid noises that surround the appreciation of fresh food. “So tell me, John, what is happening at Bond Street?” Clinton asked, between bites. “Who is being called at the inquest today?”
“I wasn’t in the parlors this morning,” John replied. “But neighbors are going in and out, to give testimony. I saw old Mr. Barksdale, from across the street, and the chemist’s son from next door.”
“The newspapers are printing page upon page on the inquest,” remarked Thayer. “Each neighbor’s testimony conjures up imagined scandals that went on behind the walls of that house—Emma had lovers, the daughters had lovers, there were burning smells from the chimney when she burned the bloody clothes. Rumors are breaking faster than waves in a hurricane.”
“She was seen buying a dagger on Pearl Street,” volunteered Snarky through a mouthful of bread, adding to the list. “You can tell a newspaper from a fishwife, by the speed with which they spreadgossip. A fishwife can spread the news up and down Fulton Street in half an hour, but a newspaper reporter gets the word to City Hall before the presses have even rolled.”
“What else, John?” asked Clinton.
“Well, sir, I was up in the girls’ room, cleaning out the stove, and I heard the prison matron tell them they were to come down and talk to the Coroner’s jury in the parlor this afternoon.”
“Today!” exclaimed Thayer.
“The girls got all up in a fuss about what they were going to wear,” said John.
“What frivolity!”
“Thanks, lad. You’re worth your weight in gold,” Snarky said, tucking a napkin under his chin. Clinton and Thayer pushed papers away from the table to make room for their meal. There was an envelope in the basket and Clinton picked it up.
Darling,
Remember how frightened she will be,
Good luck today,
ECC
At breakfast that morning, Elisabeth had a law book at the table when he came down. “If she is a witness at the inquest, is she compelled to testify?” she asked, flipping through for the citation. The Coroner’s inquest had dragged on; it was now two weeks old, an unprecedented length of time, and Emma Cunningham was still sequestered by Connery in her bedroom upstairs.
“In essence, yes,” Clinton answered. The Coroner had interviewed close to a hundred acquaintances of Dr. Burdell, medical colleagues, neighbors, shopkeepers, and servants, but he was saving Emma Cunningham and her daughters for last.
“But the statute does not say that a coroner can hold persons on suspicion of guilt, only as witnesses. If she were a suspect to the crime, that would be unlawful imprisonment.”
“Exactly,” he said, hastily eating his eggs and toast. He was preparing to serve Coroner Connery with a writ of habeas corpus,releasing her from the house arrest. Connery was enjoying his time in the limelight, not ready to relinquish his power. No one had ever tried to stop an inquest, or challenge the grim majesty of the Coroner.
“Are you serving the papers today?” she had asked.
“I understand that they will be signed and ready by the afternoon.”
‘Since you will meet all sorts of bedlam when you go to the house to release her, why don’t you take the sheriff along and have his wagons waiting?” said Elisabeth. “That way you can go straight downtown with an escort.”
“That’s a brilliant idea,” he said to Elisabeth. “I hadn’t thought of that. The bedlam will mostly be of the Coroner’s making, and he may even order me to be arrested. With the sheriff present, even in handcuffs, we can make it safely downtown to a hearing on the writs. Then the house arrest will certainly end.”
For a short while the office was quiet except for the avid noises that surround the appreciation of fresh food. “So tell me, John, what is happening at Bond Street?” Clinton asked, between bites. “Who is being called at the inquest today?”
“I wasn’t in the parlors this morning,” John replied. “But neighbors are going in and out, to give testimony. I saw old Mr. Barksdale, from across the street, and the chemist’s son from next door.”
“The newspapers are printing page upon page on the inquest,” remarked Thayer. “Each neighbor’s testimony conjures up imagined scandals that went on behind the walls of that house—Emma had lovers, the daughters had lovers, there were burning smells from the chimney when she burned the bloody clothes. Rumors are breaking faster than waves in a hurricane.”
“She was seen buying a dagger on Pearl Street,” volunteered Snarky through a mouthful of bread, adding to the list. “You can tell a newspaper from a fishwife, by the speed with which they spreadgossip. A fishwife can spread the news up and down Fulton Street in half an hour, but a newspaper reporter gets the word to City Hall before the presses have even rolled.”
“What else, John?” asked Clinton.
“Well, sir, I was up in the girls’ room, cleaning out the stove, and I heard the prison matron tell them they were to come down and talk to the Coroner’s jury in the parlor this afternoon.”
“Today!” exclaimed Thayer.
“The girls got all up in a fuss about what they were going to wear,” said John.
“What frivolity!”
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