“You are telling Brodie and me that you cameto Toronto to help get Dick admitted to the Bar?”
“Insofar as we could,” Tallman said.
“Because there was still the so-calledscandal back here to explain away?” Marc prompted.
“That’s right,” Brenner said. “We felthonour-bound to tell the Benchers exactly what we knew about it, inhopes that it would be outweighed by his lifetime of unimpeachableservice.”
“And did you outline this ‘strategy’ to Dickwhen you descended on his cottage that Sunday morning?”
Brenner allowed himself a wry smile. “As amatter of fact, that’s precisely what we did. Dick knew that someof the Benchers had been trying to get damning information abouthis past from sources here in New York. They wrote dozens ofletters, but no-one at this end would put anything on paper -including us.”
“But Joe and I talked it over,” Tallman said,“and decided that we just had to go up there and see what we coulddo for him.”
“That’s why we went to see him,” Brennerexplained. “We wanted to confer with him before we testified, ourthinking being that if we were likely to do more harm than good, wecould always skulk out of town before the event.”
“So you’re saying that Dick approvedof your approach to the Benchers?”
“He did,” Brenner said. “He thought that therumours of the scandal here, the worth of which we could neitherconfirm nor deny, would remain just that, and that our detailed,positive testimony about his character and career would provecritical. He even encouraged us to accept Dr. Strachan’s invitationthat afternoon.”
“I want to come back to that point,” Marcsaid, “but tell me now, what did you do after you leftStrachan’s place?”
The slight chill in the room indicated thatMarc’s interrogation was no longer purely informational. “Why doyou ask?” Brenner said.
“I have my reasons. Would you mind telling mewithout them?”
Tallman looked at Brenner, and said, “We wentfor a walk along the shoreline, all the way out to Fort York andback.”
“We didn’t get back to The American untilnearly six o’clock.”
“And you did not meet or talk withanyone?”
“No-one.”
“Thank you,” Marc said. “That clears up thatmatter. But I am still puzzled about this business of the scandal.As you are aware, the ugly manner of Dick’s death has left therumours about his behaviour and character, and the stench fromthem, still hanging over him – and his family. Brodie and I havecome here because we think that whatever did happen here in NewYork a year and a half ago has some bearing on his murder. And evenif we cannot establish that fact, we hope in the least to take backwith us some grain of hard truth in his defense.”
Brenner and Tallman looked at each other,then at Brodie.
“It is I who needs to know the truth,” Brodiesaid, “however terrible you may think it. Marc and I have comehundreds of miles. This may be my only chance.”
“The truth is,” Tallman sighed, “that wedon’t know the truth.”
“Nobody does,” Brenner said. “Except Dick andthose who persecuted him.”
“But did you not ask him when you saw him inToronto?” Marc said.
“We did,” Tallman said.
“We began,” Brenner continued, “by tellinghim the story that was making the rounds here, and had grown hairssince its first incarnation.” Again he peered uncertainly atBrodie, noted the steely determination there, and said, “It was tous your uncle came that dreadful day to let us know he was packingup and heading for Canada. We were asked to sell the property andbe his financial watchdog in the state. He told us nothing aboutwhy he was leaving except that he had no choice.
“It was the next day that one of the policejustices, Thurlow Winship – himself thrice charged with graft andmalfeasance – deliberately leaked the putative details of Dick’sdownfall. According to the story, Dick was found in the bedroom ofa sleazy tenement in a compromising position – with afourteen-year-old boy. He had been arrested and charged withbuggery.”
“But that was only a story,” Tallmansaid quickly, while his cheeks reddened on either side of hismoustache. “Out of the mouth of a corrupt official under theprotection of Tammany Hall.”
“That’s right,” Brenner said. “No formalcharges, no affidavits, no record of arraignment or writ ofhabeas corpus was ever produced, though many of Dick’sassociates sought them.”
“You think some sort of deal was made beforeany of this transpired?” Marc said.
“We do,” Brenner said. “You see, if hehad been charged and convicted, he would have been disbarredas well as sent to prison. The obvious implication of what didhappen is that Dick was given the option of voluntary exile – nojail and no disbarment.”
“But why? It makes no sense,” Marc said. “IfDick had enemies among the political power-group, Tammany Hall, whywould they not complete his ruin?”
“It’s possible that they were content to seehim out of the state,” Talman said, “and then leaked the details ofhis so-called transgression to the public to ensure he didn’t comeback.”
“Or my uncle had incriminating informationabout a Tammany leader,” Brodie said, confirming what the otherswere thinking.
“In which case we had a draw or stalemate,”Marc added. “The police had a charge they threatened to lay andDick had information they needed to quash. Hence, Dick leavesquietly and everybody is satisfied.”
“But then the officials sabotage my uncle byleaking details of the charge – whether or not they bore anyrelation to the truth,” Brodie said bitterly.
“So you see,” Brenner said, “that was thequestion we had to ask Dick that Sunday morning. We begged him -didn’t we, Larry? – to tell us what the charge or threatreally was. We never believed it was anything close to theone it was claimed to be. But if we knew, we felt we could relaythe facts to the Law Society, deflate all the erroneous talesfeeding the rumour mill, and paint a full and positive picture of along and distinguished career.”
“We were sure there must have been somecharge or other,” Tallman said.
“And Dick did not deny it. He simply refusedto tell us what it was.”
“He was trying to protect Celia and me,”Brodie said.
“You don’t think it could’ve been somethingeven worse?” Tallman said, horrified at his own suggestion.
“And I’m wondering,” Marc said, “if there wasany misdemeanour committed at all.”
“What do you mean?” Brenner said. “The policemust have had something on him.”
“True. But if these Sons of St. Tammany areas cunning and ruthless as they are reputed to be, and if they hadDick in their sights over the Wetmore trial, could they not haveset Dick up somehow?”
“But if it was a trumped-up charge,Tammany would have found themselves dealing with the best defenseattorney in the state,” Brenner said. “That’s why we dismissed thatnotion early on.”
“And in Toronto, Dick never denied that therehad been a charge. He just refused to discuss it or to comment onthe rumours, except to scoff at them.”
“And you’ll remember, Larry, how relaxed heappeared about it all. He seemed to feel that our testimony alonebefore the Benchers would ensure his success.”
“When all is said and done,” Tallman said, “Ithink he believed that once he himself got before them, his owneloquence and force of personality would win the day.”
“As it always had,” Brenner said.
***
Half an hour later, Marc and Brodie were walking eastalong Bayard Street towards Broadway. Having eliminated Brenner andTallman as conspirators in murder, Marc had taken time to explainto them the full circumstances surrounding Dick’s death and itsaftermath. A loving description of his final triumph in court -interrupted by laughter and the occasional tear – was then providedthe two gentlemen who had been the great barrister’s lifelongfriends and supporters. Brodie had embraced them, and promised towrite often.