City of Liars and Thieves (27 page)

My throat grew dry. It was the hundredth time I had heard Levi deny his involvement in Elma's murder, but it was the first time I had truly listened. “What then?” I asked, because Levi had stopped speaking. He was wringing his hands as if trying to stanch some physical pain.

“He swore at me and called Elma all manner of despicable names. She ran off.” He began to sob. “I never saw her alive again.”

My fingers clutched the well's jagged rim. Elma's body had been battered and bruised. Her knuckles were scraped: proof that she had fought to save herself. What was it like to feel one's feet leave the ground? To have reached for something solid to grasp—and slipped? How had it felt to fall headfirst into darkness? I heard a splash. I heard Elma scream,
Lord have mercy on me, Lord help me.

“Elma may have been with child, but she didn't—” I looked into the well, a bottomless pit leading to hell. “I know she did not kill herself.”

“No,” he admitted. “She did not.”

“Lorena Forrest saw Ezra's sleigh racing up Greenwich Street with Elma in it.”

Levi's features froze.

“Lorena saw two men in the sleigh that night.”

Levi nodded. It was clear that, like me, he had thought of little else since the day Elma disappeared. “That foul creature.”

“Lispenard,” I said, furnishing his words.

Levi looked up, jolted out of his remorse. “Who?”

“Anthony Lispenard. Elma was found here on his land. He admitted it was no coincidence. He said it was a warning.”

“It was. My brother had been threatening that man all winter. When that wasn't enough—” Levi wiped his brow. “Ezra swore he would deliver the same fate to Lispenard if he didn't do as he commanded.”

“What does Ezra want?”

“To make Aaron Burr president.”

“Vice president.”

Levi shook his head. “President.”

“Jefferson is the Republican candidate for president,” I said, aware that I was repeating Lispenard's words.

“That's not so. The man with the most votes will be president. And the way the states are split, it will take very little to tip the scale. New York is key. All Lispenard has to do is vote for Burr—twice.”

“It can't be that simple.”

“All brilliant plans are simple. Whoever controls New York will be the next president. If that happens, Ezra will receive a government appointment, maybe a cabinet post. He's pressuring Lispenard to demand a secret ballot, one in which he can cast both his votes for Burr. Lispenard refused. Ezra tried to scare some sense into him.”

“By murdering an innocent girl?”

“Ezra didn't see her that way. My brother can be very cruel. Even Hamilton and Burr are afraid of him, I think. They didn't charge him for their services in my defense.”

“But why Elma? She was only twenty-two years old, with no family or wealth. Why harm her?”

Levi followed my gaze into the well. “Elma was my friend. I confided in her. I told her about the Manhattan Company fraud and she blurted it out, to Ezra of all people. The day of the snowstorm, I went to my brother's house. I told him Elma was carrying
my
child and that we planned to marry that night. I thought he would be pleased to have an heir. I thought—” Levi shook his head. “Ezra called her a whore and accused me of spilling family secrets. No matter how much I denied it, he refused to listen. I had had enough of Ezra and his crooked schemes. I only wanted to be with Elma and our baby. Out of spite, or Lord knows what else, I told Ezra he was right. I said Elma knew all about his plan to fix the election and if he did not let us marry in peace, we would expose him. I thought I was ensuring her safety. I thought if she was a threat to him, he would leave us alone.” Tears streamed down his face.

I shuddered, back with Levi on that miserable night. Stars had dotted the sky, but the moon refused to shine. “Then what?” I asked.

“I never could have predicted Ezra's reaction. He's capable of many things, but…He must have followed me back to Greenwich Street.” Levi tugged at the roots of his hair. “I may as well have killed her myself.”

“This is no time for self-pity,” I said. “Ezra must be punished.”

“He's my brother. He raised me—”

“Coward!”

“Elma's dead. We can no longer help her.”

“So thou will stand by while her reputation is ruined and her murderer walks free?”

“I'll never speak to my brother again, but I can't turn him in. I won't.”

“He let thee suffer for his crime.”

Levi let out a low, chilling laugh. “Ezra is guided by his own principles. He would never have let me hang, but he wasn't opposed to seeing me suffer.”

“Lorena saw two men in the sleigh that night. If Lispenard wasn't the second man, who was?”

“Croucher had a hand in it, of that I am sure.” Levi winced. “Elma was so petite and fragile, Ezra could have—there was no need to involve anyone else. Ezra used him as a foil.”

“Someone to pin the blame on?”

“Pointing the finger at him made me look innocent. Croucher was a ready scapegoat.”

“But this is no petty crime or gossip—it's murder. Why would Croucher involve himself in such ugly business?”

“Who can understand that wretched being? Ezra pays him well, but it is more than that. Croucher's depraved.”

“Then how could thou allow him to walk free?” Though I shouted the question out loud, I was really asking myself. My desire for revenge had destroyed my judgment.

“I told my attorneys,” Levi said. “Hamilton was eager to question him, but Burr refused.”

I remembered Hamilton and Burr quarreling in the dark corner. I saw Hamilton's smug expression and Burr's simmering rage. “Why would Burr protect Croucher?”

“Burr did not want to gamble on what a man like Croucher would or would not say when cornered. It was enough to raise suspicion; there was no need to incriminate him.”

“Burr knew who killed Elma?”

“It's impossible to say, but I know my brother well enough to say he would have warned him.”

“And Burr intentionally overlooked Croucher?”

“Voting for the election begins this month,” Levi said, as if I was not grasping the magnitude of the prize. “If Croucher had implicated Ezra, it could have been connected to Burr. Burr bought Croucher's silence by letting him go free.”

My head ached and my heart pounded. “What about Hamilton? Why didn't he expose them?”

“He's not finished. There's nothing to tie Croucher to Elma's murder. And there's certainly not enough to taint Burr, which is Hamilton's true aim. But they both understand that Hamilton knows, and, when he has the most to gain, heads will roll.”

“And what of justice?” The word echoed down the well shaft like a muted splash. I would not sink into despair. Elma had not drowned so that evil men could prosper. I looked across the sodden field to Lispenard's farmhouse. While I could never bring Elma back, I could make life unbearable for those who had caused her death. Burr would not become our next president if I exposed his scheme.

I was leaving Manhattan forever, but before I did I would pay a visit to the reporter Hardie. I could never find a punishment harsh enough, but the damage to Burr's reputation would make his life a living hell. Without Burr's patronage, Ezra Weeks would never achieve the prestige he so desperately sought. And I had little doubt that, when it all started to crumble, he would throw Croucher to the wolves. Most important, I knew my premonition was real. It was only a matter of time before Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr destroyed each other.

As rays of sunlight filtered through the morning fog, Levi stepped closer, resting his hand again on my shoulder. I unfolded my palm, exposing the ivory comb. A ghost of a smile flitted across Levi's face, and a silent pledge passed between us. I leaned over the well and my reflection rippled in the gray water below. A cool draft wafted upward, turning my fair hair dark and flowing. I had little doubt Elma had suffered, but as the breeze engulfed me, my hatred drained, replaced by resolve. My grief would never abate, but it could be channeled into wisdom and strength that I could pass along to my children and grandchildren. Levi was right when he said life was precious. There was profound sadness, but there was also immense joy.

In a single swift gesture, I pressed the ivory comb to my lips, stretched out my arm, and opened my hand. The comb lingered weightlessly before falling and I knew, in that brief instant, that Elma's spirit had taken flight.

In the same way that this book found itself in your hands, Elma's story found me. I was reading Ron Chernow's biography of Alexander Hamilton when I came across the “Manhattan Well Tragedy.” Only four pages were devoted to the Levi Weeks trial, and most of those focused on Hamilton's oratory skill and his rivalry with Burr, but I was riveted. An Internet search led me to
The Trial of Levi Weeks,
Estelle Fox Kleiger's historical account of the case. When I sought out the Manhattan Well, I discovered that the structure in which Elma drowned still existed in the basement of a New York City restaurant. What's more, twenty years earlier, I had lived on Spring Street, steps away from the well. At the time I was unaware of Elma's story, but I was twenty-two years old, the same age as Elma Sands when she was murdered. Two hundred years had passed since Elma's death. The rustic farmhouses of Lispenard's Meadows had morphed into trendy SoHo boutiques, but Elma's story resonated with me. Young women, including myself at the time, are in search of excitement, recognition, perhaps love. Many succeed; an unfortunate few make mistakes; some pay dearly. Elma's death was a cautionary tale with modern-day relevance.

Two nineteenth-century novels based on Levi Weeks's case contributed to my understanding of Elma's story. The first,
Norman Leslie,
written in 1835 by Theodore S. Fay, is about a man wrongly accused of murder. The second,
Guilty or Not Guilty: The True Story of the Manhattan Well,
written in 1870, is unsigned. In her book on the Weeks trial, historian Estelle Fox Kleiger attributes the work to Keturah Connah, Catherine Ring's granddaughter, and reprints the dedication:

To thee, my venerated GRANDMOTHER, I dedicate this, my feeble attempt at authorship. The truths which it contains I gathered in childhood from thy own lips, and though thou has been resting for many a year, and thy name and age stand registered upon imperishable marble, I see thee vividly as in years gone by, when thou didst sit, the center of an admiring throng, and tell to us the sad history of Cousin Elma.

To establish a link to Catherine Ring and her loved ones, I have chosen to open the novel with an adaptation of Connah's poetic description of the Hudson River's western horizon and the distant hills. I have also taken my description of Levi Weeks (his long, fashionably tied hair; dark-blue eyes; and restless expression) directly from Connah's work and have revived Elma's barnyard stories about the red calf and white colt because of their authenticity. Most significant, I have built upon Connah's theory that Ezra Weeks was intent on seeing his brother marry up.

The theory that Ezra Weeks had Elma killed to protect his family's reputation is plausible. But the more I delved into the facts, the more fascinated I became by the connection between Elma's murder and Aaron Burr's Manhattan Company. Elma had drowned in the Manhattan Well, one of the company's fraudulent wells, and I could not shake the notion that it was a clue to the true motive behind her murder. Establishing a link was not difficult. Ezra Weeks had laid the pipes for the Manhattan Company, Levi worked with his brother, and Elma was Levi's lover. It was logical that Ezra and Levi Weeks would know about Burr's scam. And it made sense that Levi might have shared his misgivings with Elma (the proverbial pillow talk). Ezra Weeks and even Burr may have had cause to worry about what Elma might know or what she might say. Neither could afford to have rumors or speculation sully their names months before the upcoming presidential election.

The details were as murky as the city's water supply. While the Manhattan Company scheme was a closely guarded secret, the New York State Legislature approved the company charter at the tail end of its 1799 session, months before Elma was killed. Her knowledge of the plot would not have been sufficient motivation for murder. Still, the idea that an innocent girl had become snared in a political conspiracy continued to haunt me. Burr had successfully manipulated the Manhattan Water Company into the Manhattan Bank, but the election was still up for grabs.

By all accounts, the election of 1800, sometimes called the “Revolution of 1800” because it was so hotly contested, was too important to lose. It was the first time in United States history that two parties were vying for the presidency. New York was a swing state between the emerging parties. Aaron Burr was chosen as Jefferson's running mate because he had promised to deliver New York's twelve electoral votes. Researching the election, I learned that one member of New York State's Electoral College, Anthony Lispenard, insisted he be permitted to cast his ballot in secret, apparently so he could switch his vote from Thomas Jefferson to Jefferson's running mate, Burr, without anyone's knowledge. Lispenard's name was a startling discovery, because the Manhattan Well in which Elma had drowned was located in Lispenard's Meadows. If Levi had told Elma about the Manhattan Company scheme, it was plausible he had told her about the electoral plot. Was her insider knowledge the motivation behind her murder?

It is important to note that
City of Liars and Thieves
is historical fiction. Testimony from Levi Weeks's trial has been adapted and simplified, well-known historical figures have been fictionalized, and their dialogue and actions are, for the most part, products of my imagination. Speculation as to the motive behind Elma's murder are my own and are not based on factual evidence, and all modifications required to turn fact into fiction are my responsibi
lity. Most significant, while the Manhattan Well was located in Lispenard's Meadows, Anthony Lispenard is not historically linked to Elma's story. Trial testimony attributed to Lispenard (and his wife) was actually spoken by Lawrence and Arnetta Van Norden, whose farmhouse was located in close proximity to the Manhattan Well.

Though
City of Liars and Thieves
is fiction, I have relied on many sources. Thomas Fleming's book
Duel: Alexander Hamilton, Aaron Burr, and the Future of America
offered an unbiased account of the intricacies of Hamilton's and Burr's complicated rivalry as well as the nuances of the
code duello
. Two biographies on Aaron Burr, one by Milton Lomask, the other by Nancy Isenberg, gave me a better understanding of this elusive figure. But my favorite resource was Gore Vidal's brilliant novel
Burr
. In the opening chapter, Vidal creates a scene in Trinity Church cemetery and writes, “In the half-light of the cemetery, Burr did resemble the devil—assuming that the devil is no more than five foot six…slender, with tiny feet (hooves?), high forehead (in the fading light I imagine vestigial horns), bald in front with hair piled high on his head, powdered absently in the old style, and held in place with a shell comb.” Because the description so succinctly captures Burr, I used the phrase “resemble the devil” to describe him. Vidal's novel also references Elma Sands's murder. The story's narrator and Washington Irving are riding past Lispenard's Meadows, when Irving becomes agitated and says, “That's it! There! Look. See that well?” He then recounts the story of Elma's involvement with Levi Weeks, her death, and Burr's eloquent courtroom defense, saying that Burr convinced “the jury and the judge—and no doubt the devil himself…that Elma Sands was a woman of no virtue while Levi Weeks was a young Galahad.”

The history of New York City and its role as a stage for the tragic rivalry between Hamilton and Burr, two of the city's most prominent citizens, is truly fascinating. Historians dispute whether Catherine Ring did indeed spew a curse following the dramatic conclusion of Levi Weeks's trial, but no one denies the tragedies that would soon befall each man.

One month following Levi Weeks's trial, New York's Electoral College members cast ballots for the nation's third president. The Republican candidate, Thomas Jefferson, defeated Federalist incumbent John Adams by a margin of seventy-three to sixty-five Electoral College votes. But the race was not over. One member of New York State's Electoral College, Anthony Lispenard, had asked to cast a secret ballot, rather than the public one the state law required. In an era when ballots did not distinguish between votes for president and votes for vice president, Lispenard's dissenting vote would have been enough to make Burr president. Ultimately, Lispenard's duplicity was discovered. When the votes were tallied, Burr and Jefferson had tied each other with seventy-three votes each. Although Burr had actively campaigned for the vice presidential spot and had acknowledged Jefferson as the presidential candidate, he refused to concede. For seven days, the country was sent into a tailspin while the House of Representa
tives voted on the electoral outcome thirty-six times, until Jefferson emerged victorious. Some say it was Hamilton's under-the-table maneuvering that led to Burr's defeat. Jefferson and his Republican cohorts branded Burr a traitor for trying to steal the election. In 1803, congress ratified the Twelfth Amendment to the Constitution. The amendment requires votes be cast separately for president and vice president, ensuring the mishap would never happen again. In 1804, as retribution for his treachery, Jefferson dropped Burr from the Republican ticket.

After losing his vice presidential seat, Burr decided to run for the governorship of New York. Hamilton is said to have insulted Burr while discussing the election at a dinner party. His words became public knowledge when a letter, written by another dinner guest, was printed in the
New York Evening Post
(the newspaper founded by Hamilton in 1801 and edited by William Coleman, Hamilton's protégé, who served as court reporter during the Weeks trial). Hamilton denied that he had spoken disparagingly of Burr, but rumors persisted. And the news-mongering dinner guest made matters worse when he said he could tell of “a still more despicable opinion which Hamilton has expressed of Colonel Burr.” No one is entirely sure what to make of the statement “a still more despicable opinion,” but Colonel Burr, who blamed each loss on Hamilton's political and personal machinations, took great offense and challenged Hamilton to a duel.

The encounter took place on July 11, 1804, at a secluded spot on the banks of the Hudson River in Weehawken, New Jersey, due west of Manhattan's present-day 42nd Street. Moments after the command for fire sounded, both pistols went off. Burr's bullet hit Hamilton in the lower right hip. The bullet then passed through his liver and lodged in his spine. Hamilton died the next day, leaving behind his wife and six children. Hamilton is buried at Trinity Church, half a block away from City Hall, where the Weeks trial took place. The monument is a dull marble square about the size of a desk. Four urns decorate the corners and there's a pyramid in the center, the top of which has been lopped off. It stands feet from the sidewalk and oncoming traffic. An inscription reads:

The
PATRIOT
of incorruptible
INTEGRITY.

The
SOLDIER
of approved
VALOUR.

The
STATESMAN
of consummate
WISDOM
:

Whose
TALENTS
and
VIRTUES
will be admired

Long after this
MARBLE
shall have mouldered into

DUST
.

A glance in one's wallet will reveal the enduring influence Hamilton has had on our nation. If someone had asked me before I began this project if I knew who was on the ten-dollar bill, I might not have been able to answer. Hamilton is one of two nonpresidents featured on U.S. currency. (The other is Benjamin Franklin
,
on the hundred-dollar bill.) The portrait of Hamilton on the bill was painted by John Trumbull in 1805. It belongs to the New York City Hall portrait collection. Hamilton is depicted with wavy hair that flows back from a broad forehead, a square chin, and strong cheekbones. The image is grainy and has a green hue, but there's no mistaking Hamilton's striking good looks.

Aaron Burr survived the duel, but his reputation was shattered. Dueling was illegal in New York, and he fled south to evade arrest. During this time, Burr (perhaps modeling himself after his contemporary Napoleon Bonaparte) organized an army, solicited aid from England and Spain, and devised a plot to steal the Louisiana Territory away from the United States and crown himself king. The plot was foiled when a ciphered letter to a coconspirator was intercepted. Burr was captured and brought to trial. Few doubt Burr's intentions, but it was impossible to prove that he had committed an overt act of war. He was acquitted and fled, incognito, to Europe.