The Grave Robber's Secret (15 page)

Then one day on the same street corner, he bought another paper. This one had headlines that read
BURKE GOES TO TRIAL
. Robby stood still, reading. Burke, he learned, would go to trial in five days. Now Robby knew he had to talk about what he had read. He waited until after supper. He told them at the table while they drank tea. “Your papa is to go to trial in five days,” he said to Martha, and he took the newspaper from beside him on the chair and laid it on the table.

“I want to go upstairs to read this,” Martha said, and she slipped from her chair.

When Martha was gone, Robby turned to his mother. “Da will be free in September because he has agreed to testify against Burke. He had to promise, though, to leave Philadelphia and to never return.”

“Leave Philadelphia?” Ma shook her head. “Where will we go?” She looked about the kitchen. “How will we live without this place to rent?”

“Ma.” Robby reached out to put his hand on his mother's arm. “You can't go with him. You and I can run this place just like we've always done, or better yet, we can sell this house and buy another one. I've been thinking we ought to change our names too.”

His mother pushed her chair back from the table. “Your mind's made up. You won't go with us, will you, Robby?”

“No. I am finished with living in fear of Da, and you should be too.”

“I don't know, Robby. I just don't know.”

He too pushed away from the table. “You will have to know soon,” he said, and he left the room.

The next day a man brought a legal notice to the door. Robby, his mother, and Martha were all required to be at the courthouse on August 14, the first day of the trial. They would be compelled to testify against William Burke. With the notice in his hand, Robby wandered into the kitchen, where his mother bent over the big laundry tub. He sat down at the table and read the notice aloud to her. “Poor little girl, she'll take this fearsome hard,” Ma said.

“She will. It's three days yet before we have to go. Maybe we shouldn't tell her until then.”

Ma dried her hands and arms on her apron. “No, I'd not feel right keeping it from her. Might as well go up and get it over with.”

Robby followed her upstairs. Martha's door was open. She sat at her table writing, the kitten curled at her feet. Alarmed by their faces, she stood up as they came in. “What's wrong?” she said. “There's bad news, isn't there?”

Robby handed her the paper. She read it then let the notice drop from her hand to the floor. “I can't do it,” she cried, and she buried her face in her hands.

“I think you have to,” said Ma. “It's the law, child.”

On the morning of August 14, they had to leave early for the walk to the courthouse on Chestnut Street. Robby knew the sun was hot, and he started to protest when Martha came down the stairs wearing her heavy cape. He decided to let his mother handle the situation.

“Wait here,” he said. “I'll tell Ma we are ready.”

When he returned, his mother followed him. “Oh no,” Ma said. “You'll pass out from heat dressed that way.” She reached out to remove the cape.

Martha looked at the floor. “I wanted something to cover me,” she murmured.

Hannah handed her the cape. “Take this back upstairs. I'll get something for you to wear.” Robby's knees felt shaky, and he sat on the stairway to wait.

His mother came back with a black lace shawl, and Robby remembered that Da had come home with it the night that Lolly died. “Here.” Ma held out the shawl. “This will make you feel better.”

The walk seemed shorter than when they had first gone to the jail. On one corner, Robby noticed a small blond girl. She held out matches as people passed. He waited until they were directly across the street so that he could be sure, then said, “Look, Martha, it's Dolly, the little match girl.”

“Oh,” said Martha. “I am so glad to see her. She looks well. Remember how Papa gave me money for her? You do remember that, don't you?”

“I do,” he said. He'd have to remember to pay her a visit once all this was over. Too soon the cupolas on top of the courthouse could be seen in the distance. When they were closer, they saw a crowd standing about the building and on the steps. They stopped for a moment to rest. “We'd better go in,” said Ma, “before they come out looking for us.” She took Martha's arm, and Robby shoved open a path for them through the crowd.

The courtroom was already packed. Robby could see William Burke sitting with another man at a table toward the front. A wooden rail separated them from the general seating. Another table stood on the left; a gentleman in a waistcoat sat at it, his suit jacket hanging from the back of his chair. In the middle were twelve empty chairs, and Robby knew they must be for the jury. The judge's bench was empty, and so was the boxlike area where he supposed the witnesses would have to stand.

They found three places on the left, toward the back of the room. Martha had the shawl pulled up over her head and shoulders, and she gripped the edges tightly with both hands. Ma sat between Robby and Martha. Shortly after they were settled in their places, the twelve men of the jury filed in from a door to the left. Next, a voice called out, “All rise,” and everyone stood up.

“The judge is coming in,” Ma whispered.

“Do you see Da?” Robby whispered back, and his mother shook her head. Robby was glad his father was not in the room. Maybe he could say his piece or get his questions answered or whatever it was he had to do before they brought in his da. Robby did not want to see the man, not ever again.

When he sat back down, Robby folded his arms front of himself and deliberately tried to block out the voices of the men at the front of the room. He did hear the state's lawyer say that Burke was guilty of four murders. Next he heard the words he had dreaded. “The prosecution calls its first witness, Miss Martha Burke.”

“No!” The scream filled the room. “No, not my little daughter!” Burke was on his feet now, and Robby could see the chains that fastened him to the huge wooden table. “Leave my daughter alone. I confess,” Burke yelled. “I am guilty as charged.”

The crowd went wild, everyone talking at once. Ma put her arm around Martha, who leaned against her and sobbed. “There, there,” Ma whispered. “The man's evil, no denying, but you were the goodness inside him. Hold that as your comfort, child. He loves you more than he loves his wicked self.”

Robby looked around the room. Lots of people were standing up, many of them talking to people in front of or behind them. There were men, women, and a few children. The only familiar face he saw was that of Father Francis, who sat near the back on the other side of the room. His eyes were closed, and Robby wondered if he was praying. “Order in the court. Order in the court,” shouted the judge, and he banged his wooden hammer hard against his huge desk. “Order, or I'll have the room cleared.”

People sat back down and stopped talking. “Mr. Quinn,” the judge continued, “would you please approach the bench?” The gentleman who had sat with William Burke went forward to speak privately with the judge. Then a man in uniform used a big key to unlock the chain that held Burke to the table. His hands and feet were chained, but he could walk slowly and was led up to the judge.

The room was totally quiet, and Robby could see that most people leaned forward, as if hoping to catch a snatch of the conversation that went on among the judge, Burke, and his attorney. Finally, the judge nodded. Burke was led hobbling back to his place, but neither he nor his lawyer sat down.

“William Burke,” the judge said clearly. “In light of your full confession, there will be no more discussion.” He paused and looked about the room. “It is now my duty to pass sentence upon you. I hereby sentence you to be hanged by the neck until dead. The sentence will be carried out two weeks and two days from now, on the first day of September. This court is dismissed.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

T
he next day, Martha left Philadelphia. Robby and his mother walked with her to the train station. Robby carried her suitcase, and his mother carried a large hatbox that had belonged to Miss Stone. Several holes had been punched through the box lid. Martha held her cat, Alley, who would be put into the box before Martha got on the train.

No one talked during the walk. Tears occasionally ran down Martha's cheek, but she would hold Alley in one hand and wipe her face with the other. Robby feared his mother was going to cry at any minute, but Ma did not cry easily. He had not seen her cry during the last horrible weeks. Robby was afraid if she started to cry now, she would not be able to stop. He was also afraid he would join her.

When they got to the station, Robby was surprised to see only three cars behind the engine. A man in a uniform stood on the ground taking tickets from people, who then climbed the steps and went through the open door of the second car. “I'll write to you,” Robby said when they stopped beside the car.

Martha nodded, swallowing back tears. “Will you put Alley in the box?” she asked.

He took the cat. Ma held the box top while Martha held the box. “She's a deal bigger than when we got her from that tree,” Robby said, and he set Alley in the box.

“Oh, Robby …” Martha could say no more for sobbing. Ma gathered Martha, box and all, to her for a hug.

“I'll write to you,” Robby said again, because he could think of nothing else to say, and he gave Martha a quick kiss on the cheek.

“All aboard!” the railway man called. Robby handed him Martha's ticket and bag, and she climbed the steps.

Robby and Ma looked for her in the train windows, but the window seats were all full of other people. Still, they waited until the engine pulled the cars away.

“Poor little mite,” Ma said. “I pray she finds a bit of joy in Boston. She's had enough weeping for a lifetime.” She moved to a bench. “I've need of a wee rest.” She sank onto the seat, almost melting into the wood. Robby wondered if she would ever be able to get up. He wandered a few feet away and stood watching the train until the last sight of it disappeared over the horizon. He stayed in the spot, looking in that direction for a long time.

Finally, he turned back to his mother on the bench. He held out his hand to help her. “Come on, Ma,” he said. “We may as well head home.”

“I'd have liked to have kept her,” Ma said when they had started to walk. “I'd truly have liked to have kept her, but your da …”

“Please don't talk to me about Da,” said Robby, and he began to walk faster, leaving his mother behind.

Later that same day, he discovered that Martha had taken only enough of the money to buy her train ticket. There were still several bills left in the big book. William Burke's money was all his now, to do with as he chose. He stared down at the bills and imagined Burke's white hands counting them, rolling them, and sliding them into the hollow cane. The picture made him shudder, and he jammed the money into his pocket.

He walked into the kitchen and called to his mother, who was lying down in her bedchamber, “I'm going to the school.” Poor worn thing; his heart softened toward her, and he went into the room. She lay with her eyes closed, but he was certain she was not asleep. “I'll be back for supper with you, Ma. I'll bring home food from a street vendor.”

“You're a good boy, you are,” she said without opening her eyes.

On the street, Robby turned toward St. Mary's. No Mass was being said in the middle of the afternoon, and Robby was relieved to see no one about the church grounds. He slipped into the dark building, where the smell of burning candles filled the air. He stood near the door until his eyes adjusted to the lack of light. Father Francis was nowhere to be seen. Robby went to the big metal collection box fastened to a great wooden table. The box was locked, but a small slit in the top allowed money to be deposited. Robby had seen his mother drop an occasional coin in the box, but the Hare family had never put in bills. “This is from my da, Roger Hare, and from Mr. William Burke,” he said aloud, and one after the other he pushed the bills through the slot. He went quickly to the altar, genuflected, then hurried from the building.

At the hospital, he worked for a couple of hours, then asked Dr. Bell for his wages. “If it's all right, I'd like to come to work every day now for a couple of hours,” Robby said after he had asked for his money. He had gone with the doctor into room five, where Dr. Bell took the three dollars from the metal box he kept for resurrection men.

“Certainly. I've noticed that Lij gets slower and slower.” He handed Robby the money and returned the box to the shelf. “I am sure he will be glad to let you take over more of his work. Are you and your mother in need of money, Robby?”

Robby shook his head. “We can do with what I make if I work two hours every day, and I've got quite a lot of things to sell. Thank you, doctor,” he said, and he left the room.

On the street he bought some oysters and some cooked ears of corn to take home to Ma for supper. Robby knew he could take care of himself and his mother. He tried not to think about his father's release.

He was reading in the parlor that evening when a knock sounded on the front door. Just enough daylight was left for him to see through the window that Father Francis stood on the stoop. Father Francis had only been at the Hare home once before, when Lolly died. Then Robby thought of the money. The priest must have come about the money he had put into the box. Had he seen Robby? Maybe he had even heard what Robby said, and maybe he had come to say the church did not want such dirty money. He swallowed hard before he opened the door and said, “Come in, Father.”

Ma had heard the knock from the kitchen and came through the swinging door. “Father Francis,” she said, “we are pleased to have you call. Take a seat, won't you?” Her voice was nervous, and she turned to Robby. “Get Father a cup of tea. The water's still hot.”

Robby moved quickly across the room and was about to go into the kitchen when the priest held up his hand. “No, no tea for me, please.” He sat down in the chair. “I'll not tarry long, but I've just come from the jail. I saw Roger, and he asked me to tell you to meet him on Wednesday at ten. He's being released.”

Ma lowered her body onto the settee. “Day after tomorrow,” she whispered. “They're letting him go on the day they hang Burke. Did you know that, Father? I mean about the hanging being on Wednesday.”

“Yes, Hannah, I knew. I'll give last rites to William Burke just before …” He looked about the room. “His little girl, Martha, I believe that's her name, is she here?”

“Gone to Boston on the train this very morning.” Ma looked down at her apron and smoothed it across her middle.

“Good, I'll tell Mr. Burke. That's what he wanted, her gone from the city before the execution.” The priest cleared his throat. “Roger told me he must leave Philadelphia.” He leaned to look into Ma's face.

“ 'Tis so.” Ma did not look up.

“Will the two of you be going as well?”

“I can't say, not as yet.”

Robby had remained near the kitchen door, and he spoke from there. “I can say. I won't be going.”

Father Francis nodded. “I'll pray for the both of you, and, of course, for Roger. He's mightily sorry for his sins.”

“Da's been sorry before,” said Robby, and he went through the swinging door.

“I'll pray for you, Robby, pray that God takes away your anger,” the priest called, and then Robby heard him say that he must go. He also heard Ma follow him and express her gratitude for the visit and the prayers.

Robby went to the cabinet, took his pallet, and spread it on the floor. It occurred to him then that he could sleep upstairs. He had no desire to go into the room where the bodies had been kept or into William Burke's room, but he could sleep in Martha's. Maybe he would do that tomorrow night. He would also open the windows in the other two rooms, and the doors too. He would leave them that way for days, letting all the bad air blow out of the place. He pretended to be asleep when his mother passed through the kitchen on her way to bed.

The next day Robby made four trips with the wheelbarrow to Bran's. He had passed the shop many times, and had seen the sign that read
BRAN'S DRY GOODS AND SUNDRIES
. In smaller letters were the words
WE BUY AND SELL
. It was a large store with little light. Robby had lined the cart with newspaper and had stacked Miss Stone's clothes, shoes, brushes, gloves, and the pretty cups and saucers she liked to use for tea inside.

“Three dollars,” the tall thin man who ran the shop said when Robby had shown him all the goods.

Robby took the bills, thanked the man, and told him he would be back.

A small lady with flowers in her hat followed him from the store. “Boy,” she called with an Italian accent, “you should get more.” She moved her thumb across the tips of her fingers. “You know, more money. You give them too cheap. Got to …” She hesitated, searching for the word. “You got to bargain.” She nodded. “Yes, you got to bargain.”

“Thank you,” said Robby, and when he brought back Miss Stone's trunk, he shook his head at the first offer. “Oh, no,” he said, “I'd rather keep it than let it go for that.” He left with six more dollars. He was able to get eight dollars for all of Burke's fancy clothes and tall hat.

“You rob me, lad,” Bran grumbled when he handed over ten dollars for the cane with the secret hiding place.

Robby laughed. “Runs in the family, I guess.” At home he hurried through the house to find his mother in the kitchen rocker, her mending on her lap. “I got nineteen dollars altogether, Ma.” He waved the bills at her. “We can live a month on this, maybe more,” he said. “By that time, we can likely rent a room or two.”

She stood up and moved toward the window, leaving her work on the chair and turning her back on her son. Robby's gaze fell on the rocker and Da's shirt. “You're working on this?” He picked up the shirt and held it out away from his body.

“He has to have something on his back, Robby. You know he does.”

“Go ahead, Ma, tell me. You're going with him, aren't you?”

She turned back to face him. “He needs me, son. You come too, please, Robby.” She reached out to take hold of his arm. “He's your da. We can start over someplace. Father Francis will sell this house for us. I asked him today.”

Robby pulled away from her. He counted out ten dollars and threw the money on the table. “Here, Ma, here's your share of the money. I won't be coming with you, and I won't be coming home tonight. Good-bye, Ma.” He ran through the back door and down the alley. For a long time he walked around the city. He moved through the streets, knowing he would go eventually to the medical school. Lij would take him in at least for the night, but he did not want to go until bedtime. If it was time for sleep, Lij would not ask as many questions.

Robby bought roasted chestnuts from a street vendor and ate them as he walked. Next he bought one tulip from a little girl who sold flowers on the corner of Adams Street. “What you going to do with this?” the little girl wanted to know.

“Take it to my little sister,” he said.

At the cemetery, he laid the flower on the grave. “Ma and Da are leaving this town,” he said aloud. “Leaves just you and me in Philly.” He wandered out of the big iron gate. For a while he stood outside the almshouse owned by the Quakers. He sat for a time on the stone steps, wondering if he should go in and ask to see Daft Jane. He decided not to. What if Jane turned out to be miserable? He could do nothing to help her, and he could not bear seeing another sorrow.

Without thinking, he wandered into Northwest Square. There he looked up at the wooden structure being built, and his stomach lurched. He thought he might throw up the nuts he just ate. He folded his arms across his stomach, closed his eyes, and leaned for a time against a lamppost. He didn't understand why his stomach acted up so. Didn't he know better than most people that Burke deserved to be hanged? Hadn't the man ruined life in the house with the broken stoop?

Finally, just after darkness settled on the city, he knocked at the wooden door of the medical school. “I need a place to sleep,” he told Lij when the man opened the door.

“Sure thing.” Lij led Robby down the hall to the open door of his small room. Inside, Lij handed him a blanket. “Unfold that cot.” He pointed to a folded bed leaning against the wall. “I brung it in a while ago. Figured you would need it.”

Robby did as he was told, and Lij blew out the candle. Robby was relieved that Lij had asked no questions, but in the dark, he said, “I know about your father. Reckon everybody in town knows about him and Burke.” Robby said nothing, and Lij added, “You eat anything, son?”