Judy knelt down to look Zack in the eye.
“Honey, the sheriff caught the plumber,” she said.
“You figured it out, didn’t you?” Zack whispered. “You told the police how to catch him.”
“Well, I had a hunch. Turns out I was right.”
“Thank you!” He hugged her.
Judy thought about how much Zack had been hurt in his short life. There was so much she wanted to say. How she was sorry his mother had been so mean. How things were going to be different now.
But “Have fun, honey” was all she said.
From the look on Zack’s face, it might have been enough.
“We will,” he said. “Hey, you could use a little fun, too. Maybe you should go see a movie or something. I mean, Dad’s not home. I’ll be over at Davy’s. You and your librarian friend could go out to dinner or the movies or…”
Judy smiled. “Don’t worry. I know how to have fun.”
“You’re not going to stay home and watch TV, are you?”
“No. I’ll probably go hang out with Mrs. Emerson.”
“Zack?” Davy called. “Come on, pardner! We need to find us some good green switches for marshmallow roastin’!”
“I gotta go, Judy. See you tomorrow.”
Judy went inside and placed a call.
“Mrs. Emerson? Judy Magruder Jennings. I’m free this evening and I was wondering—do you think you and your husband could meet me at the bank in, say, ten minutes?”
Zack and Davy waited in the woods until they heard the garage door grind up, then grind down.
“She’s off to the movies or Mrs. Emerson’s house,” Zack said, tugging down on his Mets cap, ready for action.
“Good thing you suggested it, pardner.”
“Yeah. But what about your father? Won’t he wonder where we are?”
The boys had hung back near the stump while Davy’s dad hiked across the highway. The old man had never looked back to see if the boys were following him.
“Pops? Shoot, he’s plum tuckered out. I’ll betcha he marched straight home, plopped into bed, and forgot all about us. You grab some matches?”
“Yeah.” Zack zipped open his gym bag. “I brought the whole box.”
Sharon went down to the carriage house and kissed her baby.
“Is this your night off, girl?” her mother asked.
“No. But I had to see Aidan and make sure he was safe.”
“He’s fine. Look, Sharon—it’s a shame about the police shooting Billy, but you need to get back to the big house. Don’t give Miss Spratling any excuse to fire us!”
Miss Spratling was waiting in the darkened foyer when Sharon returned.
“Did your mother offer her sympathies on the loss of your ex-husband?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“How considerate. Of course, they all mourn at first. But then life goes on, doesn’t it? After the cards and flowers and condolence calls, they all forget and you’re the only one left to mourn his death!”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Come along,” Miss Spratling commanded. “We must prepare the chapel. Father Murphy is on his way.”
Sharon had never been allowed to enter the Spratling family chapel before. It was also the one room her mother had never cleaned. In fact, no one was ever permitted inside the chapel except Miss Spratling herself. But tonight was the fiftieth anniversary.
Tonight was special.
Judy and Mrs. Emerson were sitting in a conference room, staring at the long metal tray they had removed from the safe-deposit room.
Hank Emerson, head of security for North Chester First Federal, had the second key needed to open the double-locked box. Now he was in the security office, making sure the bank’s surveillance cameras were sweeping the parking lot, vault, and lobby while ignoring the conference room.
Judy raised the hinged lid. A brown envelope was tucked inside the narrow box. She undid the flap clasp and discovered what looked like a high school term paper: a typewritten report tucked inside a clear plastic binder with a slip-on spine. The lettering was blurry: a carbon copy off an old typewriter.
Judy knew they had found the missing link.
The Greyhound Bus Incident
A Search for Justice
Compiled by
Sheriff James K. Jennings
September 2, 1983
I am composing this report to work through the remorse I feel over the deaths of Thomas O’Claire and his wife, Alice, whom I shot outside Spratling Manor, leaving their infant son, William, an orphan.
1958
Julius Spratling had a problem with his only child, his daughter, Gerda. At age twenty-two the woman had no romantic prospects and, being considered somewhat homely, seemed doomed to live out herdays as a spinster.
In an attempt to pacify his daughter, Julius Spratling hired a suitor: a cocky young custodian from his factory named Clint Eberhart.
Mr. Eberhart loved to flirt with the factory girls, often inviting them to join him for makeout sessions in an abandoned machine shop behind the factory.
Julius Spratling offered Mr. Eberhart a lucrative payday if he married Gerda. Mr. Eberhart agreed but failed to mention to Mr. Spratling that he was, in fact, already married.
Eberhart proposed to Gerda and their engagement was announced in all the local papers.
On the afternoon of June 21, 1958, a butler summoned Mr. Spratling to the telephone for a call from Sister Elizabeth Synnott. The nun ran a home for women in need in Middleford, Massachusetts. One of her residents had seen the engagement announcement in the newspaper and claimed that Clint Eberhart was her husband, who had abandoned her several months earlier, leaving her poor and destitute. She then told the nun that she was pregnant with Mr. Eberhart’s child.
Sister Elizabeth knew the girl named Mary making this accusation to be honest and trustworthy. She informed Mr. Spratling that she would publicly protest the upcoming nuptials.
Mr. Spratling challenged her. “Prove it,” he said. “Let this girl make these slanderous allegations to my face!”
Sister Elizabeth advised him that Mary (O’Claire) Eberhart would be coming down to North Chester on the next bus. She and two of her colleagues would serve as chaperones for the frightened young woman.
Mr. Spratling confronted Mr. Eberhart with this news. The fact that Mr. Eberhart was already married didn’t seem to trouble Mr. Spratling. The butler heard him declare, “I don’t care about that! A deal is a deal! Clean up your mess. You will marry my daughter, but first you must get rid of this other woman!”
Eberhart caught up to the bus when it made its regular stop at a filling station near Crawford. While several passengers boarded, Mr. Eberhart searched for Mary. When he saw where she was seated, he began to pound on her window and cursed her for trying to rob him of his “biggest paycheck ever.”
Six members of the United States Army who were passengers on the bus chased Eberhart away.
Mr. Eberhart, however, did not give up. He pursued the bus in his convertible.
At this point, the bus driver used atwo-way radio to make an urgent request for help. A Connecticut State Police motorcycle officer responded to the call.
Meanwhile, Mr. Eberhart took a shortcutto the intersection of Route 13 and Highway 31, where he presumably planned to force the bus to a stop so he could board it and “take care” of Mary. A charred swing-blade knife was found in the wreckage of his vehicle.
The motorcycle cop arrived at the crossroads first.
When Mr. Eberhart saw the police officer, he apparently changed his plan. No longer content to stop the bus, he drove toward the intersection in a manner clearly intended to run the Greyhound off the road.