The Grave Robber's Secret (14 page)

He ran for the entrance, but stopped suddenly. Jane's willow tree was just inside. He had to think. Could he get her back to the Quakers and explain that her life was in danger? He wished Martha had come with him. Martha had a way with Jane, but there was no time to go for her.

Then he heard them, and he pressed himself against the wall, hoping to hide in the shadows. “Come on home with us, me girl,” Da said. “Me good wife will be glad to feed you. You know me wife, and she's made a lovely meat pie.”

“No,” Jane's voice came from farther away. Probably she was still beneath the willow's branches, and the men were trying to talk her into coming along peacefully. “I'm not hungry. I had a meal already, and I want to sleep.”

“I'll help you sleep, all right.” Burke's voice did not try to hide his impatience. “Move over, Hare,” he growled. “I'll yank her out.”

“Let go of my leg!” Jane screeched. “I won't go with you. I won't!”

“Stop your kicking, you wretched creature,” Burke said. “Ah, I have you now.”

“Let me go!” Jane's scream split the air.

“Move, Hare, get that gag in her.”

Jane got out one more scream, and then she was quiet. Robby moved quickly to the corner. He could hide there and see them take her out, but what next? What was he going to do to stop them? He saw them then. They dragged Jane between them, each man holding an arm. He could not see a gag. They must have stuffed her mouth full of something. There was only one thing to do.

He stepped from the darkness. “Let her go,” he said, and he felt pleased that his voice sounded strong to his own ears.

“It's your brat,” said Burke. “Tell him to get lost.”

“Go on home, Robby,” Da said. “We don't need you here.”

“But Jane does.” He backed away from the men. “Let her go now.”

Burke laughed. “And why, pray tell, should we listen to a snot-nosed child such as you? Get away from us at once, or you shall be most heartily sorry.”

“If you don't let her go right now, I am going to the police.” He was running then, running hard among the graves. Too late, he realized he had not gone toward the gate. He heard quick steps behind him, but he only looked back once. Da and Burke, holding a rope, were both running after him. Jane was nowhere to be seen. He hoped she had enough wits about her to know that she should not go back to the willow tree.

Robby risked another look over his shoulder. Da had stopped running and was bent over, holding his sides. Burke seemed to be slowing too, but he continued to move. Robby was on the other side of the cemetery now. He looked at the stone wall. If he could climb over, Burke might go running by, but he would have to be quick. There were some stones with edges that jutted out enough to allow him to grasp them, then to climb up, putting his feet where his hands had been. He was almost at the top when he slipped and landed on his back.

There was no time to try again. He spotted a big monument and just had time to hide behind it. He heard Burke moving about nearby. “Come back here, you little fool. I only want to talk to you,” he called.

“Robby!” His father's voice sounded even closer than Burke's had. For an instant he thought how he had resented his father for not using his name. Now that name was being used to call him to his death.

Would Da actually allow Burke to kill him? Probably he would, to save his own neck. Besides, he wasn't sure Da could prevent Burke from committing the murders even if he wanted to. Which way should he run? What if he ran right into one of the men?

Trying to make himself as flat as possible, he pressed against the stone. Then suddenly Da was there, only a couple of feet away and staring right at Robby. For a moment they looked into each other's eyes, neither of them speaking. Every muscle in Robby's body tightened. For a second, Da put his finger to his lips in a silence gesture, and then he turned and moved away. “He ain't over here, Burke,” Da called. Da had lied to his partner, lied to protect Robby. The thought amazed him, but he had no time to think more.

Burke yelled again. “He's bound to be in here. Find him, Hare. Find him now!” The sound of the voice in the night sent a chill through Robby. “I'm coming over there to have a look for myself.”

Robby knew he had to move. Leaving the monument, he stepped forward cautiously. Then he tripped and fell, landing hard. He had fallen over a shovel, probably left behind when some grave robber had been disturbed at his work. Maybe he could use the shovel as a weapon. He picked it up and put it over his shoulder.

When he looked down, he froze for a second, realizing he stood at the head of Ruth's grave. He began to dig furiously, careful to throw the dirt only on the other end of the grave, not beside it. When he hit the coffin, he leaned down and jerked hard. The part of the lid Da had broken moved. One more yank, and it was up. First he put in the shovel. Then he climbed in, and pulled the lid piece back into place, careful to leave a crack for air.

Anyone looking closely at the grave would see that it had been disturbed, but his pursuers would be moving quickly and in the dark. It felt strange to be in a coffin almost covered with dirt. He heard the steps of a running man, not heavy enough to be Da, and he felt almost too scared to breathe.

Then he heard his father's voice. “We got to give it up,” he called. “The boy's climbed over the wall. He must have.”

Burke's voice came to him, but he could not make out the words. Now what? How long would they wait before leaving the cemetery? When he finally climbed from this grave, would he be able to get to a policeman before Burke found him? And what about Jane? Did they have her already?

It seemed colder in the coffin, mostly beneath the earth, cold and darker than he had ever experienced. His mind went back to Ruth and to how he and Da had pulled her body from the grave. She had been wrapped, he remembered, in a soft white blanket. Robby pictured how he had uncovered her face to put the rope around her. Was he lying on the blanket now? He must be. If he moved enough to get it over him, maybe he would not be so cold.

Sure enough, he found the edge of the soft fabric. He rolled to his side and lifted the top part of his body and the same time he jerked. Good! The top part of the blanket was free. He doubled his knees and lifted them, but he couldn't reach far enough to get a good hold on the blanket. He lay back down with part of the blanket under him and part covering his shoulders and stomach. Ruth's dress lay near his head, and he tried to throw it over his legs. Suddenly he wondered what had killed Ruth. Surely he had heard someone at the funeral say, but he couldn't remember such a remark. Maybe she had some terrible disease, and maybe he would catch it by lying where she had lain. He began to shiver.

Just then he heard their voices again. At first he could not make out the words, but as they got closer, he heard Burke saying, “Well, Hare, your boy has royally ruined this evening's commerce. God only knows what became of the wretched woman, and your worthless son may even as we speak be telling the police about our little business.”

“I don't believe Robby would do that, not really. He'd not want to see me swing.”

Burke laughed. “You think not? I find that interesting, since you've been pursuing him for some time now with the aim of doing him in.”

Da answered, but Robby could not catch the words. They must have walked away, because for a moment, no sound came to him. Then suddenly a shout split the quiet. “Stop, in the name of the law.” Could it be true? Was a policeman in the cemetery?

“Put up your hands.” Another voice, this one with a heavy Irish accent. “You're under arrest.” More than one policeman must be here. Robby pushed open the casket and, with the blanket still about him, he stood.

“Saints preserve us!” shouted the policeman with the accent. “A spirit comes up from the grave.”

“No!” Robby dropped the blanket and scrabbled onto the level ground. “I was hiding from those men.” He pointed toward Da and Burke, who stood some twenty feet away, their hands in the air.

“Robby!” Martha came running toward him from behind one of the three policemen. “Are you all right?” She wore a white jacket, and in the moonlight her fair hair looked white too. He thought she looked like an angel, and he knew it had been Martha who had gone to the police to save his life.

“Martha, my darling,” said Burke. There was great anguish in his voice, and Robby found himself actually feeling sorry for the man. “Oh, dear, dear child!” His voice shook with emotion. “I never wanted you to know about this unpleasant business. I am so dreadfully sorry.”

Martha did not go to him. “Papa,” she said, “you are sorry I learned about your murders, not sorry for killing people.”

“Off with you,” a policeman said. “We got a little ride to take you on.”

Burke and Da began to move toward the gate, two policemen behind them. One officer turned back. “Will you two young ones be all right now? You've got a place to go?”

“Yes,” said Robby. “We will be fine.” He stood with Martha, watching their fathers, arms over their heads, being marched out of the cemetery. “Thank you for saving my life,” he said.

She nodded. “I think we should go home now. Your mother will be frantic. She told me how to find the policemen, but she doesn't know what happened after that.”

Robby sighed. “Well, I am glad to hear she wouldn't just stand by and let Da kill me.” He laughed a nervous little laugh. “I wasn't sure, not at all. Oh,” he said, “how did you know where to find me?”

“Jane told us. She came and told us the whole story about how you saved her. You know, I think she may not be as daft as people think. She remembered her warning to you too, you know, about people watching you. She talked about feeling you were in danger. It's strange.” She shook her head. “Anyway, she was scared enough to go back to the Quakers, or at least she said she would.”

When they were near enough to see the Hare home, they also saw Ma walking up and down in front. “Robby, God be praised, you are alive!” Ma cried. Robby leaned his head against her for a moment. “And your da? Where is he?”

“Martha brought the policemen and they took Da away. Mr. Burke too.”

Ma stepped back and buried her face in her hands. “What will become of us? What will become of us all?”

“Right now,” said Robby, “we will go inside to our rest.” That night he slept well for the first time in many days.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

L
ife in the house with the broken stoop went on. The next morning, even before breakfast, Robby went to the shed to get the
ROOMS TO LET
sign. There it was, behind the wheelbarrow. He wished he knew where his father had stolen the cart. He would have liked to return it. When the sign was hammered into the ground, he went in to help his mother. Robby had imagined how nice it would be to be free of the dread that had hung over them for so long, and he was glad to have had a night of sleep without the fear of murder being committed in his own home. Still, times were hard.

Early that same day three policemen came to their door. They went into each downstairs room, and then all three went upstairs to poke about. Robby, his mother, and Martha stood in the parlor listening to the footsteps, the opening and closing of doors, and the sliding of furniture. The older of the three had seemed to be in charge, and he came back down to the parlor. He took a small pencil and pad from his jacket pocket. “Take a seat,” he said.

The three of them crowded onto the settee, Martha between Robby and his mother. Robby could feel Martha's body shaking, and he saw fear in his mother's eyes. Were they all about to be arrested? The policeman settled in the brown chair. “Like I told you, I'm Sergeant Wilson,” he said, “and I'd like to ask you some questions.” He cleared his throat and leaned toward them. “Why did you not go to the authorities when you first learned about the murders?”

Ma looked at Robby, and he knew she wanted him to answer. “We were afraid, sir,” Robby said. “William Burke would have just as soon killed us as any of the people he brought off the street.” Martha gave a little gasp, and Robby added, “Well, not Martha. Her father loves Martha, but not the rest of us. Even my father feared for his life.”

Sergeant Wilson wrote on his pad for a moment. “How many?” he asked. “The number of murders, I mean.”

Robby and his mother exchanged looks. Robby bit at his lower lip. “Two for sure, probably three,” he said. “The two were a man and a woman. We don't know their names. I don't think there was any connection between them.” The sergeant wrote on his pad.

“We tried not to notice, not to think about what went on upstairs.” Ma's voice shook. “We done what we had to do, don't you know, so to survive.”

“To survive,” Sergeant Wilson repeated, and again he wrote on his pad. “One more question,” he said. “What day did Burke first rent the rooms?”

“It was early spring, April I think,” said Robby. He heard Martha make a little swallowing sound, and then to his surprise she spoke.

“April third, that's the day we came to Philadelphia on the train, just two days after my mama died.” Martha grasped Robby's hand and Ma's. She leaned forward. “Sergeant,” she said, “we used to live in Boston. My papa might have killed my uncle there.”

The two other policemen had come downstairs during the last question, and all three of them went to the door. “Don't leave Philadelphia,” the sergeant said just before he stepped out the door. “Not until after the trials. You'll be required to serve as witnesses, and you have to be there. It's the law.”

And so they lived in dread of the trial, but the need for money was quickly a bigger problem. The money from Miss Stone's rent was almost gone. They needed food and money for coal to be able to cook their meals. Robby collected his pay from Dr. Bell, and that helped. They packed up Burke's belongings, and Robby planned to sell them and Miss Stone's trunk to a man on Second Street who bought such items. He would use the wheelbarrow to carry the things over.

They hoped each day that someone would come to take a room, but for days the sign brought no one. Finally, an elderly woman in a big hat came to inquire. Robby opened the door when she knocked, and he invited her into the hall. His mother came then and introduced herself. The woman began to shake her head. “Oh, dear, no, I didn't know this was the house. I couldn't live where those bloody murders took place. Dear me, no.” Still shaking her head, she backed out the front door.

“We may have to sell this house, if we can. I'm afraid no one will rent a room from us, not until after this terrible business dies down,” Ma said as she sank down on the third stair. “I'm going to the jail,” she said. “I'll go this very day and ask to see your da.”

Martha had come halfway down, and she asked, “May I go with you? I'd like to see Papa.”

“Yes, child, we may not be allowed in, but we can ask.” Ma pulled herself up by the rail. “Will you go with me, son?”

Robby's chest felt tight, as if he might not be able to breathe. “Ma,” he said, “I can't. Oh, I know at the last he lied to Burke about seeing me.” He shook his head. “But look at this mess we're in. I'm not ready to forgive him.”

His mother reached out to brush his hair away from his face. “He loves you, Robby. I don't believe he would have let anything happen to you.”

“He wouldn't have killed me, maybe, but I think he would have stood by and let his partner do it. You say today that you don't believe it, but that awful night there was danger enough for you to send Martha for the police.” He looked back at her.

Ma sighed, and wiped her hand across her face. “He's still your da, Robby.” She looked up at Martha. “We'll go right now, else I might lose my nerve.”

Robby followed his mother into the kitchen, where she took bread and cheese, wrapped it in a cloth, and put it in a small basket. “It's a good long walk to Walnut Street. That's where the jail is. We'll be wanting something for our noon meal before we get back.”

Robby stood at the front window, watching Martha and his mother walk away. Just before they rounded the first corner, he ran after them. “I'll just walk along with you, but I won't go in.”

It was the first week of June, and the weather was beautiful. The mountain laurel shrubs about the city were in full pink and white bloom. Robby could almost believe that the little group had set out for a pleasure walk. On one street, they passed a small house with a fence around it. A boy held a pan and fed a goat from it. “Look, Martha,” Robby said, “there's Lucy and her boy.” For just an instant a light of amusement came to Martha's eyes, but it did not last long.

“Yonder's the jail,” Ma said when they could see the big stone building. “God help us. I never thought I'd be here to see a murderer.”

His mother did not pressure Robby more to go inside. “Here,” she said, and she handed him the basket. “Don't eat it all afore we get back.” He watched them climb the front steps. A tree grew on some grass in front of the building, and he settled himself on the ground to watch the people and to wonder what business each of them had in the jail.

A woman came up the sidewalk and sent two small children to sit near him. The little boy and girl kept their eyes on Robby. “What are your names?” he asked, but they did not answer. Their staring made him uncomfortable, and he felt glad when their mother returned. The children ran to her, chattering in a foreign language. As they walked away, the girl looked over her shoulder and waved at Robby.

Martha came out before Ma. Robby could see she had been crying. She wiped at her eyes and tried to smile when she saw him. “I know you hate him. I understand that, but I don't hate him, just what he did.”

He nodded. “I don't hate my da either,” he told her. “I wish I could, but I don't.”

“Papa wants me to write to my aunt Susan, and he told me where he has money hidden in the cane. He told me to buy a train ticket to Boston. I am to take half of what is left, and give you the rest.”

“What? He wants you to give me money? The man wanted to kill me!”

Martha shrugged her shoulders. “He isn't all bad, Robby. I can't explain my papa, not in a hundred years, but he isn't all bad.”

“When will you go to Boston?” Robby was surprised by the lump in his throat when he thought of Martha's leaving.

“After the trial. I'll have to stay until then. I didn't tell Papa that the policeman said we would have to testify. It would only fret him about me being there and having to answer questions.”

Robby saw his mother coming down the steps. “Here comes Ma,” he said. “Don't mention the money to her. I'll tell you why later.”

When she reached them, she said nothing at first, only took the basket from Robby and handed out the bread and cheese. They ate as they walked. “He told me he would not have let Burke hurt you.” She stopped walking and reached out to stop Robby by taking his arm. “He wanted you to know that he wouldn't ever have let Burke kill you.”

Robby pulled his arm free and began to walk again. “That's not how it seemed to me, Ma, not while I was shivering and shaking down in that coffin. It sure did not feel to me like Da was on my side.”

When they were home, Martha brought down her father's cane. “I'm glad you didn't sell this before we found out about the money.” She handed the cane to Robby. “Papa said unscrew the top, but I couldn't budge it.”

Robby grasped the golden top and leaned, putting all his weight into it. The top gave slightly. He tried again, and this time it came off in his hand. Slipping his finger into the hollow stick, he pulled out several bills. They fell to the floor, and Martha gathered them into her hand, counting.

“There's one hundred and fifty dollars here,” she said, and she handed all the bills to Robby. “You and your mother take it all for now. You can give me back enough for a train ticket when we find out how much the fare is.”

Robby picked out one of the bills. “I'm only going to give Ma this for now. Twenty dollars will do her for a month or so. Maybe by then we will know more about what will happen to Da. If he should get out somehow, he'd make her give him whatever she had.” He looked about the parlor. There were Miss Stone's books. “I'll put the rest of this in
Doctor Bodkin's Complete Guide to Home Treatment of the Human Body.
” He went to the big book, opened it, and slipped the bills inside. “This way, you will know where it is if you need it.”

“I don't know where that money came from. It's bound to be from the bodies or from cheating at cards.” Her face looked distressed. “Do you think we should give it to Sergeant Wilson?”

“I suspect we should,” he said, “but the police wouldn't know where it came from either. We just won't worry about where your papa got it. We need it too much.”

The next day Robby went back to work again at the medical college. He had been there only once since his father's arrest. He had dreaded that first time that there would be questions from Dr. Bell or from Lij, but neither of them had mentioned his father or his crimes. Still, this time, when Dr. Bell called out to him as he walked by the open door to his office, he did not want to go inside, leaning instead on the door frame, ready to make a quick getaway. “We have another cadaver in room five,” Dr. Bell said.

“What's a cadaver?”

“It is a term used by doctors for the bodies we dissect for research and for education.” The doctor smiled at him. “You know, Robby, you would be welcome anytime to go up in the observation stand and watch.” The doctor leaned across his desk, and his voice was quieter. “It might actually help you. Oh, not to make murder right, of course not.” He shook his head. “Still, it might help you some to see how much our students learn. Do you know some doctors are so eager to learn that they dissect members of their own family? After they die, of course.”

Robby stepped away from the door. “I might,” he said, and he nodded. “Yes, I just might.” He walked away then, but he noticed when the students began to gather in room five, and he slipped inside and climbed the stairs.

Dr. Bell was holding up something that Robby recognized from the charts to be a heart. “There are four chambers inside this organ,” the doctor said. Robby leaned forward, fascinated. For a long time, he watched Dr. Bell and listened to his explanation. When he knew the group was about to be dismissed, he went down and out the door.

Neither Martha nor Ma returned to the jail. The papers were full of stories about Burke and Hare, and it was from a newspaper that Robby learned his father's fate. “Get your paper here,” a newsboy called from the corner one day as Robby was about to cross the street. “Hare gives evidence against Burke.” Robby had a coin in his pocket, and he held it out the boy.

“Give me a paper,” he said.

“Sure thing,” said the boy. “You want to read about Burke and Hare, huh?”

“Yes,” said Robby. “They are an interesting pair.”

He took the paper and walked to the cemetery. There he sat on a bench and read the story. Roger Hare, the paper said, had given evidence against William Burke, claiming that Burke was the one who actually killed the people. Boston police had sent telegrams about Burke's theft and the murder of his brother-in-law. In exchange for his testimony, Hare was promised an early release from jail. Robby read that his father would be free in September under the condition that he leave Philadelphia, never to return. Burke would go to trial sometime in August. Robby did not tell his mother or Martha about what he had learned. He would, he told himself, tell when the time was right, but somehow the right time did not seem to come.