Free The Pardon by James Grippando Page B

the park and its past, talking about how they had filled in the bay to build it in 1924 and how the sea had tried to reclaim it in the hurricane of 1926. He spoke from memory and of practice, but he was clearly putting a little emotion into it for his distinguished guest. The governor listened politely, but he was fading in and out, to remain focused on the purpose of his trip. His anxiety heightened as the carriage curled around the spewing fountain and headed west, away from the brightly lit walkway along the water to the interior of the park, where palm trees and live oaks cast shadows beneath street lamps that were becoming fewer and farther between. As they reached the amphitheater, the carriage slowed up, just as Calvin had warned and the blackmailer had said it would.
    Whoa, Calvin said gently to his horse, bringing the carriage to a halt. He turned and faced the governor. Now this is what I call the dark side of my tour, sir. For it was right here, where the old bandstand used to be, in the year of our Lord nineteen hundred and thirty-three, President-Elect Franklin Delano Roosevelt addressed a crowd of fifteen thousand people. Amidst that huge crowd there stood one very angry young man - a man who doctors would later describe as a highly intelligent psychopath with pet schemes and morbid emotions that ran in conflict with the established order of society. That disturbed young man stood patiently atop a park bench until the president finished his speech, then took out his revolver and fired over the crowd at the dignitaries onstage, intending to kill Mr. Roosevelt. The president escaped unhurt, but five innocent people were shot. The most seriously injured was Anton Cermak, the distinguished mayor of Chicago, who, before he died, told the president, I'm glad it was me, instead of you.'
    Calvin saw the expression on the governor's face, then looked down apologetically. Didn't mean to frighten you, Guvnuh. I always tell that story to all my passengers, not just to politicians. Just a part of our history, that's all.
    That's quite all right, he said, trying to ignore the chill running down his spine. But he wondered if his blackmailer knew that Calvin did indeed tell this story to all his passengers. Maybe that was the reason he had selected this particular carriage ride for the exchange. It was certainly possible - the man had apparently been planning this for two years, since the Fernandez execution. The governor suddenly wanted to hear more. So, Calvin, he said casually, I imagine this assassination must have been pretty big news back in 33.
    Oh, sure. Was front-page news for about a month or so, as I recall.
    What happened to the assassin?
    Calvin widened his eyes and raised his bushy white eyebrows. I don't mean no disrespect, sir. But this man pulled out a pistol in front of fifteen thousand people, fired six shots at the president of the United States, wounded five people and done killed the mayor of Chicago. They dragged him into court, where he proceeded to tell the world that his only regret was that he didn't get Mr. Roosevelt. And to top it all off, the man begged the judge to give him the chair. Now whatchoo think they done to that fool?
    Executed him, he said quietly.
    Course they executed him. Four days after they laid Mayor Cermak's dead body in the ground they done did execute him. Swift justice was what we had back then. Not like we got these days. All these lawyers we got now, hemmin' and hawin' and flappin' their jaws. Appealin' this and delayin' that. Anyhow, Calvin said with sigh, that's enough bellyachin'. I'm gonna let Daisy rest a spell and get myself a nice iced tea. Somethin' for you, Guvnuh?
    No, thank you, Calvin. I'll wait here. Harry watched the old man hobble over to the concession stand and he began to wonder about this whole curious arrangement. Was the blackmailer revealing his deeper, darker side - the morbid emotions that ran at conflict with the established order of society? Could he