Chapter 2
The news hadn't come easily. Mac had gone to the Southern branch office two weeks before Jill was due to deliver what they hoped would be their son.
When she went to the hospital, her sister phoned Mac to give him the news. When she gave him Jill's message that she was all right and he should stay to work out the problems, he had laughed.
"To hell with business, I'll be on the next plane out of here. I want to shake hands with my son and kiss my wife."
He got the next plane to New York. By the time he arrived at the hospital, Jill had dried the tears of a painful delivery and was smiling proudly at having produced a healthy son according to order.
Mac stayed for a little more than twenty-four hours. It was time enough to tell Jill how much he loved her and how proud he was. It was even time enough for a small, loving argument.
Jill wanted to call the boy MacDonald, after his father. Mac resisted the idea.
"That's really a hell of a name to give an innocent kid." He argued.
"But it's your name, darling, and that makes it very beautiful."
They argued in their usual way, with kisses and smiles and gentle words. When it ended, they had found a compromise. Their son would be named Mark MacDonald.-Mac flew back South then, confident that his wife and son were safe and healthy. There had also been time to see their three year old daughter Karen. If all went well, he would be back in three weeks to enjoy the love of his family.
All did not go well. Mac got back to the job on Friday morning. His phone call later that day reported that he and Carl were going to the island for the weekend to work things out.
When Jill didn't hear from him on Monday morning, she was not too worried. It wasn't like Mac not to call, but, she reasoned, he had a lot of things to think about. He would call when he got a chance.
Jill was reading the paper that afternoon when she went into a state of shock. As news stories went, it was not a big one. In fact, it had been relegated to page four.
It told of an eighteen year old girl being the victim of a rape slayer. Police had arrested a suspect. He was a businessman from New York named MacDonald Sheppard. He was being held without bail.
The story went on to state that evidence given by his business partner, J. Carl Cardwell, prominent local businessman, indicated that Sheppard had been alone on the island with the girl when she met her death.
There was a little more to the story, but Jill could not read it. She had screamed for a few seconds before a worried nurse called a doctor. He gave her a needle and she fell asleep. Jill awoke later to find herself in the middle of hell. Somewhere, down in the abyss, her husband was being tortured.
She fought back to health because her husband needed her. Her sister would care for the children while she went South to be with her husband. Her body wasn't strong yet, but her mind was strong enough to carry it. Her love was even stronger.
The jail was dark and ugly and Mac looked small and alone when she saw him, but in that first quick glance, her heart sang a song of happiness as she knew for sure that what she had believed all along was right. Her husband had not committed the crime. He was not guilty.
She had seen him cry before, but his tears had been sweet gentle things which spoke of love and tenderness. Her love then was so strong that it should have been able to melt the glass between them and free her man to come into her arms, but jails do not melt so easily.
They spoke in hushed whispers through the phones to which they were restricted. His eyes showed relief at her faith in him. He told her to go back home to the new baby, told her that he could work it out since he was not guilty, but she refused. He knew she would.
He told the whole story then. Told how Carl's niece had come to the island to be cook and housekeeper for them. How she was a bright, beautiful girl with a ready smile and a good sense of humor. How he had left the island at noon that day to get the fateful papers.
Their car, he told her, was parked on the dirt road at the back side of the island so that he did not have to go into the village on his way out.
He had returned at six o'clock and Carl met him on the shore. There were other figures they needed, Carl told him, a new bid for partial ownership that he had not yet reported. Mac should go back to the island and take it easy while he took his turn to go into town.
Although he couldn't understand how it could be, Mac had gone along with the idea. Mac dropped him back on the island and left with the one boat. When he reached the cottage, there was no sign of Velma, but he was not too concerned at the time. It was a fairly big island.
When darkness began to fall and she still did not appear, Mac had begun to worry. He began to walk around looking for her. He found her.
She was dead. Her body was covered by a torn bra just below her throat. Except for that, she was naked. There was a lot of blood and bad bruises on her throat and breasts. After the shock and sickness passed, he ran back to the shore to wait for Carl, but he did not appear. All through the night, he waited, but there was no sign of his friend.
In We early hours of the morning, the police came. He showed them the body and they arrested him. As they dragged him away, they refused to listen to what he told them. They were busy saying things of their own, ugly things about a beast who would rape and murder-an innocent girl. He tried to tell them what had happened, but they wouldn't listen.
Only then did he realize that Carl had violated and killed his own niece. Only then did he realize that it had been carefully planned so that he would be blamed for the crime.
Of course he could explain it to the police and it would be understood. He explained, but they didn't want to understand.
When they threw him into the cell, there were ugly, painful bruises, but they were not too important. Bruises would heal in time. What terrified him was the complete belief of the police that he had killed and raped the girl. He asked for a doctor to check him, but they swore at him and told him about how he would fry for killing an innocent girl.
At that moment, he knew he was in serious trouble. Carl came to visit him later, but it was a different Carl. The eyes were cold with hatred, the voice was carefully controlled, it was the voice of a stranger. He said words about how he would try to help in any way he could.
The eyes also said I am guilty, but surely you don't expect me to admit it. He spoke of lawyers and defense and friendship in spite of everything and Mac felt the bottom fall out of his world.
He began then to sense the end of his world. There was something about the way his friend and partner spoke that told him he would pay with his life for the crime Carl had committed. He thought of Jill, to whom he had been true since they first discovered their love; thought of their children and knew he would never see them again.
If he were to be executed for Carl's crime, he could take it, he knew, but the thought of his wife and children living with the stigma of what the law would say about him was too much.
A lawyer came to see him then. He was a young man, eager and good looking. At first, the lawyer looked at him with distaste as if it was a job to be done. They talked for a long time.
Before their conversation ended, the lawyer's look had changed from hate to pity.
"My God," the young man said, "I believe you really are innocent."
"Is that so bad?" Mac asked.
"It's worse than that. They've built such a case around you, that I don't think any law yer in the country could save you. They've already declared you guilty. That's why they gave me the case."
"But I am innocent. That girl was alive and healthy and happy when I left the island. When I got back, she was dead. I hate to say this, but only Carl could have killed her and she was his niece. He loved her."
"I'm afraid you're right." The lawyer answered. "He loved her in a very sick way. His love carried him away and he has made you look guilty. Let's try to find some way to prove it."
"But I don't have to prove it. I'm innocent. Doesn't the law say a man is innocent until proved guilty?"
"Only in the books, Mac." The lawyer hung his head as though ashamed of his profession. "It doesn't really work that way."
They talked for a long time after that, but nothing changed. The lawyer kept looking for a way out, but Mac could not provide it. All he could tell was the truth and that was not enough.
Before their conversation ended, Mac knew he would be convicted. In time, he realized that he would be executed for Carl's crime. When he became sure of that, he tried to convince Jill that she should go back home to the children. He wasn't really surprised when she refused.
Each time they talked, he held his tears back so that she would not see them. She would need strength, he knew, and it was his job to give it to her. When she left, he smiled. Lat er, in the solitude of his cell, he would cry the tears he couldn't let her see.
In the long, empty hours of the night, Mac would admit to himself that not all the tears were for Jill and the kids. Some were for him too. Life is a good thing, he told himself. I don't want to end it. I want to live in love with my wife; I want to watch my kids grow up; I want to see and hold my wife's beautiful body; I want to grow old with her and them.
"Are you up there somewhere, God?" he said aloud. "Then get me out of this. Do your job. I don't deserve this, my family doesn't. Do something."
The bare cell remained silent and Mac knew then that the God to whom he had prayed was not going to do anything about it. He was on his own and knowledge of innocence was not going to be enough.
The trial was a legal farce. Because it was election year, the D.A. handled it himself. A flower of Southern Womanhood (with her whole life ahead of her) had been brutally ravished and slain.
This ugly outsider, this Northerner was the ravisher. If we do not convict and punish him, then we do not believe in all the things we say we hold dear. Who will be next if we set this man free? Your daughter? My daughter? We must protect society from wild animals.
While he spouted his emotional death call, the kindly old judge kept nodding his head as if in congratulation. Each time the prosecutor strayed too far from the path of law, Mac's lawyer would object. Each time, the judge would look at him with disdain.
"Quiet, boy. This here man has a right to say his piece." Implied in the message was the warning...."that there animal has no rights. If you want to live in this nice little town, don't fight too hard. We're gonna fry him, boy, don't fight too much, just enough to make it look good."
The jury stopped just short of applause. With the guidance of the D.A. and the judge, it was their role to uphold the sanctity of Southern womanhood. Not one of them would convict an innocent man knowingly, but it was obvious that this man was not innocent. They had daughters and wives and sisters. What else could they do?
It took eighteen minutes to bring in a verdict. "Guilty as charged."
"... die in the electric chair."
Jill screamed then, but what else could she do? After all, she is his wife. You can't expect her to be fair about it.
Mac's lawyer appealed the conviction of course, but he was only going through the motions and he knew it. The D.A.'s office had produced amazingly little evidence. In fact, other than their claim that Mac was alone on the island with the girl at the time of her death, there was no evidence.
The medical examiner had placed the time of her death at a time when Carl was back in town and Mac was on the island. That alone was enough to tie a circumstantial noose around the defendant's neck.
His report had not been filed though until Mac had been arrested and Carl had given his story.
"Well now," the kindly old doctor drawled, "I suppose I rightly shoulda filed that report sooner, but you know how things go. We all just put things off. Anyway, I examined that poor girl soon as I could and there was no doubt about the time of her death. I've gotta tell you," he looked directly at the defendant, "the man who killed that poor innocent girl had to be a real animal. He's not fit to live in our decent, God fearing society!"
"Objection," Mac's lawyer roared.
"Easy now, boy," the judge frowned at him, "I won't have you shouting in my court. All right clerk, strike out that business of the doc's about him being an animal and all that."
There was no point in telling the jury to forget it. It was just what they were thinking anyway. Doc had only made it a little more official.
And then there was Carl's statement for the defense. If Mac hadn't already been guilty in the minds of the jury, he would have been by the time Carl finished speaking on his behalf.
J. Carl Cardwell was a picture of prosperity and dignity as he took the stand to defend the character of his friend and business associate.
In glowing tones, he told of Mac's character and personality before going into specifics.
"Why he really loved that poor niece of mine and she liked him too. Trusted him just like a father. They used to go on long walks together around the island talking their heads off.
"No sir, I can't believe Mac would do a thing like that. Not even upset as he was about the new baby and all that. No, even when I saw that poor girl's body all naked and abused like it was, I refused to believe my friend could do it."
Mac's lawyer tried to dismiss the witness, but Carl would not be stopped.
"I realize that in saying my friend is not guilty of this terrible crime, I could be putting myself under suspicion because if he didn't kill her, maybe some will say I did, but I don't mind. Maybe," he finished weakly, "there was another man on the island. Just because we didn't find any trace of another man doesn't mean there couldn't have been one."
Something about the way he said it convinced all who heard that he didn't really believe it himself. He was just trying to help his friend by clouding the issue with some vague reference to a mystery man on the island on the day of the killing.
Mac's lawyer saw their last chance go up in smoke then.
"Mr. Cardwell, in addition to being friends, you and the defendant are partners in a business worth a couple of million dollars, aren't you?"
"That's right."
"What happens to the defendant's share of the business if he dies?"
"Well, our agreement says that the business goes to the survivor with certain arrangements for the estate of the deceased."
"Then if the defendant should die, you would stand to make a pretty big financial gain, wouldn't you?"
"Now look here, that's a real mean thing to suggest. I don't want to make money that way. In fact, I intend to look after his widow."
The lawyer's mouth fell open at the man's easy admission that he expected Mac to die. He turned away and dismissed the witness.
The prosecutor took over then to tie up any possible loose ends.
"You and Mac are real good friends, aren't you?"
"Yes, we are. Best of friends."
"You'd do anything you could to help him, wouldn't you?"
"Yes, I would. Anything in my power."
"If he were in trouble, you'd even lie to help him wouldn't you? Remember, you're under oath."
Carl paused and stared toward the ceiling as if summoning up strength to answer.
"Yes, I guess I would if it would help."
"Did you have much trouble with trespassers on the island?"
"None at all."
The judge delivered his summation to the jury then. It was brief and surprisingly fair. He knew his people well enough to know the jury would bring in a guilty verdict anyway, there was no point in saying anything that would make unfavorable reading in a transcript of the trial if the case went to appeal.
Although he did recess the court when the jury went out, the judge didn't leave the bench. Ten minutes later, he looked at his watch and frowned in the direction of the jury room door. What, he wondered, is taking them so long. His glance made that obvious.
When they brought in their decision, he congratulated the jurors on having done their job well and went on to pronounce sentence of death.
Jill's cry had been the only real sound in the room.
The appeals had been denied as everyone knew they would be. The plea to the Governor for clemency was turned down. It was an election year, after all.
Mac Sheppard died in the electric chair. Justice was served.
Jill sat up then and was surprised to find her eyes dry.
"Thanks for everything, Bob."
"No thanks needed, Jill. I didn't do enough."
"You did a lot more than the people who are paid to see that justice is done. You believed in him, you found Carl's key case in the area where she was killed. It wasn't your fault that the court wouldn't be influenced by it."
"I still want to help in any way I can, Jill."
"I know, Bob, and I appreciate it. The rest is up to me, now."
"The rest?" He looked puzzled.
"I'm going to fight now." Her look of determination under-lined the words. "Carl Card well and the law murdered my husband and destroyed his reputation and character. I'm going to get Cardwell and expose both him and the law."
"How are you going to go about it?" The man looked apprehensive.
"You heard Carl say he wanted to take care of me? I'm going to let him do it. I'm going to become a part of his family. I have only woman's weapons, but I'll use them all in any way I have to."
"I don't follow you, Jill. Do you really think you're going to get him to admit he killed his niece?"
"Yes, Bob. He destroyed my family. I'll destroy his if I have to, but I'll make him admit that he raped and murdered his own niece and sent Mac to the electric chair for it. While I'm doing it, you may stop liking and respecting me, but it's something I have to do. I'm going to do it."
"Don't worry, Jill. I could never stop liking or respecting you, no matter what you do. This isn't the time to talk about it, so I'll save it for later. You do what you have to do and I'll be around to help in any way I can."
"Do you think what I'm doing is wrong? Should I just forget it and pick up the pieces?"
"No. If you were just looking for revenge, I might try to talk you out of it. I think you're justified in what you're trying to do. I only hope you don't get hurt. The man you're stalking is a murderer and the job you've cut out for yourself is a tough one. Try it your way. I won't ask questions or make judgments. Just shout when you need me."
"You're a very good man, Bob."
"Thank you madam. I come from a long line of good men. It's my duty to maintain the reputation."
"This may sound strange in view of everything, but I can sleep now, I think."
"Glad to hear it." Bob got up and walked out of the room.
The hurt, Jill feared, would return, but for now, it had been replaced by determination.