Dead Lock (14 page)

Krueger turned on the Enigma and it began typing out a message almost immediately.

Bestaetigen Sie: Operation Todschlag, punkt 1500 Uhr.11.Juli.
Verify Operation Deathstrike set for 1500 hours, July 11.

Krueger typed his answer: Bestaetigt.
Verified.

He then asked a question to assure himself of safe passage back to the Fatherland via U-boat once the mission was accomplished: Bestaetigen Sie termin am Treffpunkt, 0500 Uhr, 13.Juli.
Verify rendezvous at checkpoint, 500 hours, July 13.

Momentarily the machine replied: Bestaetigt. Aber zeit fenster ist knapp, Sie haben nur 20 minuten.
Verified. But the window of time is short. You will have only 20 minutes.

Krueger replied: Verstanden.

He waited a few minutes for further messages. Satisfied there were none, he closed the machine and placed it back in the trunk.

Despite the Enigma code, each transmission bore a certain amount of risk and there would be no further communication unless something went terribly wrong.

The mission was on.

56

Monday, June 28

I had spent the weekend mulling over the events of the last two days.

Felice’s confession confirmed what I had felt all along. Corporal Roy Cummins had nothing to do with Shirley’s death. The Sault Ste. Marie jail held an innocent man, and I was the only one besides Felice and Corporal Cummins who knew the real story. I had to convince authorities of Cummins’ innocence without exposing the fact that he and Mrs. Miller’s daughter had been together that evening.

But who had murdered Shirley? And why? It seemed obvious, at least to me, that her death was no random killing. The perpetrator had left Shirley’s purse behind containing $21, a week’s pay.

Whoever attacked her wanted her dead for some reason. I couldn’t help feeling the key to finding out who murdered Shirley lay in discovering why she was killed.

By the time I reached the office Monday morning, I had decided to take my suspicions to Jack Crawford. But it turned out I might as well have been whistling
Dixie
. Or maybe Tommy Dorsey’s new tune,
Sing, Sing Sing.

“Leave it alone, Kate,” Crawford said. “Sheriff Valenti is convinced that they have the right man. His opinion is good enough for me and it ought to be good enough for you.”

“The coroner says Shirley’s murderer was right handed,” I reminded him. “Corporal Cummins is left handed.”

“Right handed, left handed, what difference does it make? Maybe he grabbed her with his left hand and stabbed her with the right. How do you know?”

“What difference does it make? It makes a hell of a lot of difference to an innocent man locked up in the jail for a murder he had nothing to do with.”

“That’s a job for the sheriff and the courts. Your job is reporting. And you turned in an excellent job on that interview with the corporal.”

“Thanks. But I’m still determined to prove Corporal Cummins is innocent.”

“How are you going to do that?”

“By finding the real killer.”

“That’s fine,” Crawford said, “as long as you don’t do it on the newspaper’s time. I want you covering the progress of the new lock.”

“I thought that was Andy’s territory.”

“It is, but with the dedication getting closer, I want you both on the assignment.”

I’d wanted to cover the story of the new lock all along. But I left Crawford’s office with the sneaking suspicion he was offering the assignment to keep me too busy to investigate Shirley’s murder.

57

It was nearly five o’clock when I finally had time to myself and get back to my thoughts of finding Shirley’s real killer.

Shirley and I had parted company right after high school. She enrolled at the University of Michigan, while I traveled east to the Columbia University School of Journalism. We ran into each other on occasional visits back home, but for the most part had gone our separate ways. During our last conversation together a few days ago, Shirley had mentioned dropping out of the U of M during her sophomore year in Ann Arbor.

That’s where my investigation into her death would begin.

I called Sam Murphy, an old friend and colleague of mine at the
Times
. As the newspaper’s Education Editor I knew he had good contacts at most of the major universities. After we exchanged a few pleasantries I got to the point.

“I’m going into the background of a woman who was murdered here at the Soo,” I said. “Can you use your contacts to see if there is a record of where she went after she dropped out of the U of M?”

“I can try,” Sam said. “Give me the dates she attended classes there.”

I told Sam we had graduated from Soo High together in 1928, and she would have enrolled in the fall of that year. If she dropped out of college during her sophomore year, that would have been ’29 or ’30. He told me he’d check with his sources at the University and call me back.

What he found shocked me.

58

Tuesday, June 29

Sam Murphy got back to me just after lunch the next day. I took the call at my desk.

“Shirley Benoit graduated from the University of Michigan with high honors in the spring of 1932,” Murphy reported. “Her major was accounting.”

Graduated with high honors? During our conversation, Shirley told me she dropped out of college.
Why would she have made up a story like that?

“You got me,” Murphy said. “But I know my information is correct. It came right from the registrar’s office. I just got off the phone with a woman I know who works there.”

“Is there anyone there who might know where she went after she graduated?” I asked.

“I seriously doubt it,” Murphy said. “Remember there were some ten thousand students at the University of Michigan when your friend Shirley left the Ann Arbor campus. With that many people they just can’t make a rule of following each one after graduation.”

“What about a counselor?” I asked.

“You could try. The name of her counselor would be on her records at the registrar’s office.”

Five minutes later I was on the phone to Shirley’s counselor, a Mr. Tyson.

“I’m sorry,” Tyson said. “There’s nothing on Miss Benoit’s transcript that indicates any type of job placement after she left the University. We do have a placement center, though. You could try there.”

I did.

Dead end.

59

Wednesday, June 30

My investigation into Shirley’s murder had run up against the proverbial brick wall.

I was disappointed; but I felt even worse about not being able to help prove that Corporal Cummins was innocent. He seemed willing to face a life sentence in prison rather than call on Felice as the only person who could convince a jury that he hadn’t killed Shirley Benoit.

That’s when the idea of a second option struck me. Maybe the weight of the
Soo Morning News
could be directed at the sheriff through its news and editorial pages.

I didn’t know how much support I could get from Crawford, but it was worth a try. And I was willing to go over his head to my uncle if I had to.

Fortunately, I found both men in G.P.’s office the next morning. Without mentioning Felice’s name, I laid out the story as I now knew it: that an unnamed source had confided that she had been with the corporal at the time of Shirley’s murder. I ended my comments with a suggestion that the
Soo Morning News
champion the corporal’s cause.

“I’m against it,” Jack Crawford said almost before I had finished. “It’s too risky right now. The whole damn situation could blow up right in our faces.”

I wasn’t going to let go that easily. “What do you mean, risky?”

“Don’t you know what’s going on downstate?” Crawford said. “Detroit is still recovering from a race riot that left the city practically in flames.”

“But what’s that got to do with Corporal Cummins?” I asked. “This is Sault Ste. Marie, not Detroit. And an innocent man is being held in jail.”

G.P. weighed in. “There’s some history you need to know about, Kate,” he said. “When the army announced that troops would be sent up here to guard the locks, the townspeople were ecstatic. Most of our local boys are in the service, many serving in the artillery. The natural assumption was that they would be coming home.”

“Yes?”

“Instead, the army sent a battalion of soldiers from New Orleans, most of them colored.”

“How does that justify holding an innocent man in jail?”

Crawford frowned. “If Cummins is released now, it could rub the townspeople the wrong way. There could be trouble. Maybe a race riot right here.”

I turned to my uncle. “G.P., you’ve always stood for what’s right, no matter what the circumstances were. And right now the circumstance is that an innocent man is in jail.”

He paused, his lips pursed. “Maybe there’s a way to do the right thing, and still keep the peace among the townspeople.”

“What do you mean?” asked Crawford.

“Kate, I want you to write an editorial. But don’t go so far as suggesting Corporal Cummins’ outright release. Instead, let’s suggest he be turned over to his superiors at Fort Brady. I know Colonel Woods, the Fort Commander, and he’s an honorable man. He’ll hold the corporal accountable, but if he feels Cummins is as innocent as you do, he’ll do the right thing.”

Crawford started to object, but G.P. cut him off with a wave of his hand. “I understand the risks, Jack. But the Soo Morning News has a tradition of taking a strong position on human rights issues like this. We’re not going to play dead on this, no matter what the repercussions might be.”

I could have hugged my uncle, but thought better of it. I couldn’t help smiling, though.

G.P. looked my way. “Kate get busy on that editorial. And I want you to write any follow up stories that might be needed.”

My smile got brighter. “Thanks, G.P.”

“That’s on top of your assignment to cover the progress of the new lock.”

“Yes, sir!”

I left the office in a hurry, already writing the editorial in my head.

60

Thursday, July 1, 1943

A Soo Morning News Editorial:

Our Jail Holds An Innocent Man

The people of Sault Ste. Marie are all too familiar with the tragic murder of Shirley Benoit, one of our town’s most popular citizens. The young woman, who worked as a waitress at Blades Larue’s Restaurant, was struck down by a ruthless killer last Thursday morning.

But there is a second tragedy that has risen out of Miss Benoit’s murder of which we believe our town’s residents should be aware. It is the arrest and incarceration of U.S. Army Corporal Roy Cummins. Corporal Cummins has been charged with Miss Benoit’s murder.

The
Soo Morning News
believes that Corporal Cummins, a Negro, is guilty of nothing more than being in the wrong place at the wrong time. He was arrested by sheriff’s deputies later that same morning two blocks from Blades Larue’s Restaurant.

Miss Benoit was slashed with a sharp blade, causing a great loss of blood. Yet, when apprehended a short time later, Corporal Cummins had no blood on his hands or clothing.

Dr. Kenneth Larsen, Sault Ste. Marie’s coroner for the past 20 years, states that the wounds on Miss Benoit’s body point to a right-handed assailant. Corporal Cummins is left-handed.

The
Soo Morning News
believes strongly that Corporal Cummins is being held in our city’s jail simply because Sheriff Carl Valenti lacks any other suspects in the case.

Further, it is our opinion that Sheriff Valenti should either show that he has more evidence of Corporal Cummins’ guilt than he has produced so far, or turn the soldier over to the army at Fort Brady immediately.

61

Thursday, July 1

10 days before the dedication

I had expected a reaction from my editorial, but what happened surprised even me.

“You missed all the fireworks,” Andy Checkle said as I arrived around ten o’clock Thursday morning. I had stopped at the Army Corps of Engineers to check on the progress of the MacArthur Lock.

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

Sheriff Valenti paid Crawford a visit early this morning,” Andy said. “I’m surprised you didn’t hear the shouting way over at the locks.”

“Fill me in.”

“Valenti wanted to know who wrote the editorial. Crawford stonewalled at first, saying whatever appears on the editorial page is the opinion of the entire Soo Morning News editorial staff. He told Valenti to forget it. He said it didn’t matter who the individual writer was.”

I wondered how long that lasted. I wondered how long Crawford kept it up before he caved in and told the sheriff I had written the opinion piece.

“So he finally broke down and told Valenti who wrote the editorial?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

I shook my head. It was just a matter of time before the sheriff came looking for me.

“Crawford admitted that he wrote it,” Andy said. “And then dared Valenti to do something about it.”