Chapter 19

	Here lies an honest man,
	Rear-Admiral Van.

*

	Faith, then ye have
	Two in one grave,
	For in his favor,
	Here too lies the Engraver.
	HENRY THOREAU

In 1846 when Henry Thoreau spent the night in jail as the guest of Sam Staples, the Concord Town Jail was a modest boxlike affair standing on ground now occupied by a parking lot behind Vanderhoof’s Hardware Store on Main Street. By the nineteen-sixties the police department had grown to a force of twenty men, with a new headquarters on Walden Street shared by the Fire Department, The police occupied the right half of the brick building, with their own laboratory, dark room, firing range, parking meter repair facility, three radio-equipped automobiles and one walking mobile Unit. Both Fire and Police Departments shared the use of the short-wave radio antenna. It was a good group of men, displaying the discreet and iron virtue of the best class of blue-coated law enforcers in the land. All of them were great broad-chested men except their Chief, James Flower. Jimmy was nine inches under the required minimum height, and he had worked his way into the Force and up to his present position through personality, competence and a special dispen sation of the Legislature.

Thirty seconds after Sergeant Luther Ordway had hung up on Mrs. Jellicoe, a small parade of cars was turning out onto Walden Street, with Jimmy Flower already ticking off on his fingers a list of things to do. At the bridge he took calm and swift control. Patrolman Harold Vine passed on to him Arthur Furry’s information and described the examination of the body by Mr. Ralph Chope of Houston, Texas. Chief Flower asked a few questions of Arthur Furry and Ralph Chope. He looked at Arthur’s bright eye and flabby, pale face and directed that he be sent home in a patrol car. Then, after examining the body of Ernest Goss, he walked along the shore, looking at the ground. He peered across the bridge to inspect the place where the horseman had jumped the fence. He climbed over the fence in another place and walked gingerly around the area where the footprints of several hundred Boy Scouts were overprinted with the marks of a horse’s hooves. Then he came back again the same way and did a number of things very quickly. He gave directions to the photographers, he organized a search of the immediate area for the weapon or for anything else of interest, and he dispatched Sergeant Silverson with two men to drive around by way of Liberty Street and attempt to pick up the trail at the point where Arthur had indicated the rider had left the field. He directed Sergeant Ordway to take charge of the on-the-spot investigation. Then he took the arm of Sergeant Bernard Shrubsole. “Let’s go up to Charley’s,” he said. “We’d better round up Philip, too. There was some sort of hanky-panky with the Battery cannon this morning.” On the way to the car they passed District Medical Examiner Walter Allen, hurrying up with his bag. Dr. Allen nodded without speaking.

It was quarter of two as they drove up Barrett’s Mill Road past the Hand place and turned into the long drive that curved around in front of the Goss house. “Look, there he is,” said Sergeant Shrubsole. Charley Goss was walking up from the barn with a hurried, distorted, limping gait. He came hobbling to the car, looking distraught, and leaned down to the window.

“I know what you’ve come for,” he said. “I’ll come with you. My mother isn’t well. I don’t want her to see you.”

“All right, Charley,” said Chief Flower, his voice gruff. “Climb in. But some of my boys will be along shortly to look around. “Where’s your brother?”

Charley climbed in the back seat and sat down by Bernard Shrubsole. He was wearing khaki trousers and a white shirt and a pair of dirty tennis shoes. He was shivering. “Philip? Oh, I suppose he’s s-still at the Rod and Gun Club with the Battery, having lunch.”

“Well, I’ll get out there, Bernie, and you can go on and take Charley to the station. One of the boys will bring me back.” He looked back at Charley. “Look, go in and get your coat.”

“No,” said Charley, “I’m all right.”

“Now, Charley,” said Jimmy Flower, “you know what your rights are, don’t you? To an attorney, I mean. I just want to be sure you …”

“An attorney?” said Charley. He was shivering uncontrollably. “Why should I need an attorney? I’m perfectly willing to admit that I shot my f-f-father myself.”