Blue Moon (43 page)

I am alone in the room. Then I feel a presence. I look around but see no one else occupying the space which is completely devoid of any furniture or decoration. I walk towards the large window and then hear a laughing sound behind my back. I turn around.

In the very middle of the chamber is a small table at which three children—two girls and a boy—are seated. They smile at me, their
faces grinning as if they are concealing some great secret. I walk over to them and, as I approach, they rearrange themselves to accommodate me. I had not noticed the fourth chair which, nodding in my direction, the children beckon me to take. I sit down. As I inspect the faces of the children, I notice their complexions have a perfect, milky softness, their eyes a bright and true shine. The little boy sits opposite me. He joins hands with the girls on either side of him; then the two young ladies reach out to take mine. We sit there, looking at each other. I close my eyes. I feel the tender flesh of each girl's palm. The clear, delicate scent of the pines is overwhelming.

Marjorie Freeman Campbell's
Torso
(subsequently republished as
Unholy Matrimony)
is the only book-length study of Evelyn Dick. Campbell also wrote an excellent history of Hamilton:
A Mountain and a City.
I have also learned a great deal from Brian Henley's various books devoted to the history of Hamilton and from Paul Wilson's lively columns in the
Hamilton Spectator.
The following were very useful: Jack Batten's
Robinette: The Dean of Canadian Lawyers,
Vincent Burns'
Female Convict,
Owen Carrigan's
Crime and Punishment in Canada: A History,
Keith Edgar and Richard Daniel's
Evelyn Dick: The Tragic Story of an Emotional Degenerate,
Patricia Pearson's
When She Was Bad,
Douglas Rodger's
How Could You, Mrs. Dick?,
and John Weaver's
Crimes, Constables, and Courts: Order and Transgression in a Canadian City, 1816-1970.
Brian Henley and his staff at the Hamilton Public Library provided me with a wide array of documents, including many fascinating, unpublished photographs in the Local History collection.

Marc Cote, an editor's editor, was—as is his wont—both totally demanding and completely supportive.