next, so don’t hold your breath, buster. (Guards and trustees are okay, in their
place, but a warden is not my social equal. Apparently Pixel realises this.)
Dr Ridpath has been in a couple of times, to urge me to plead guilty and throw
myself on the mercy of the court. He says that I would be certain to get no worse
than a suspended sentence, if I convinced the tribunal that I was truly contrite.
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I told him that I was not guilty and would rather be a cause célèbre and sell my
memoirs for an outrageous sum.
He told me that I was apparently unaware that the College of Bishops had passed a
law years back under which any profits arising out of a case of sacrilege went to
the Church, after the fee for disposing of the body was paid. `Look, Maureen, I’m
your friend, although you don’t seem to know it. But there is nothing I or anyone
can do for you if you won’t co-operate.’
I thanked him and told him that I was sorry that he was disappointed in me. He said
to think it over. He didn’t kiss me en he left, so I conclude that he really is
vexed with me.
Dagmar has been in almost daily. She doesn’t try to coerce me into confessing, but
what she did do last time had more effect on me than Dr Eric’s reasonableness: she
smuggled in a Last Friend. `If you are going to be stubborn about confessing, this
will help. Just break off the tip and inject it anywhere. Once it takes hold – five
minutes or less – even a slow fire won’t hurt… not much. But for Santa Carolita’s
sake, ducks, don’t let anyone find it!’
I’ll try not to.
I would not be dictating this if I were not in jail. I don’t necessarily have
publication in mind, but the discipline of sorting it all out may show me where I
went wrong… and that may show me how to straighten out the mess and go right.
The Battle of New Orleans was fought two weeks after the War of 1812 was over. Poor
communications… But in 1898 the Atlantic Cable was in use. The news of Spain’s
declaration of war went from Madrid to London to New York to Chicago to Kansas City
to Thebes almost with the speed of light – only the delays of retransmission. Thebes
is about eight hours west of Madrid, so the Johnson family was in church when the
dreadful news arrived.
The Reverend Clarence Timberly, our pastor at Cyrus Vance Parker Memorial Methodist
Episcopal Church, was preaching and had just finished fourthly and was digging into
fifthly when someone started ringing the big bell in the county courthouse cupola.
Brother Timberly stopped preaching. `Let us suspend services for a few moments while
the Osage Volunteers and members of the bucket brigades withdraw.’
Ten or a dozen of the younger men got up and left. Father picked up his bag and
followed them. Being a doctor Father did not serve on the volunteer fire team but,
being a doctor, he usually did go to fires if not actively engaged in treating a
patient when the bell rang.
As soon as Father closed the church door behind him our preacher got back to work on
‘fifthly’ – what it was I don’t know; during sermons I always tried to looked alert
and attentive, but I rarely listened.
On down Ford Street someone was shouting; he could be heard right through Brother
Timberly’s loud voice. Those shouts came closer.
Presently Father came back into the church. Instead of returning to his pew he
walked up to the chancel rail and handed a sheet of newspaper to our pastor.
I should interject that the Lyle County Leader was a four page single sheet, printed
on what was then called `boiler plate’ – newsprint printed on one side with
international and national and state news, and shipped that way to small country
papers, who would then fill the inside pages with local news and local advertising.
The Lyle County Leader bought ‘boiler plate’ from the Kansas City Star with the