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Authors: Sheila Connolly
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Quaker influence in Philadelphia, which condemned ostentation.
Then the city had suffered from the flight of much of its industry to the growing
suburbs, starting in the 1950s, and as a result had faced serious financial struggles.
But the city had fought back. It had created a world-class convention center to draw
in visitors, and a new venue for its sports teams. The Constitution Center had filled
in a gap across from Independence Hall. New high-rises like Liberty Place I and II
had attracted high-end shops in a central location. Things were definitely looking
up for Philly.
But despite my research, I still couldn’t match Marty’s hereditary and encyclopedic
knowledge of the people we were looking at. Thank heavens I knew more than Shelby
did, or I would really feel like a dope. Having southern-bred Shelby as part of this
team forced us to put a lot of social assumptions into words, which could also be
helpful. All the information she would acquire would also make her much more useful
as a Society employee.
I made my way slowly back to my office. Eric looked up and said, “Something important
going on? You keep disappearing into all these little meetings.”
I smiled at him, glad he was at least observant. “Nothing you need to worry about,
Eric. Just an impromptu research project that I’ve asked Shelby and Marty to help
me with.” Then a thought struck me. “Eric, do you know who Edwin Forrest is?”
“No, ma’am. Is he a member here?”
“No, he’s been dead for more than a century—although that might be said for some of
our current members. He was an actor born in Philadelphia who went on to be quite
famous in the nineteenth century. It seems fame doesn’t last very long. Anyway, that
big statue downstairs next to the elevator—that’s Edwin, in all his glory. Anything
else on my calendar?”
“Just the usual: board reports and that kind of thing. I left some letters on your
desk for your signature.”
What a relief: nice, simple, boring, and predictable things that didn’t involve anyone
dying. “Then I’ll be in my office if anyone needs me.”
I wasn’t surprised when at the end of the afternoon, Marty walked in and dropped into
a chair.
“You look frustrated. Have you been working with Shelby all day?” I asked.
Marty scrubbed her fingers through her short hair. “With a quick break for lunch.
The good news is, she’s got the hang of this research, and she’s really into it now.
The bad news is, she doesn’t know the kind of details I know, so it’s been kind of
slow, going back and forth and filling in the spreadsheet. The worse news is, we still
don’t have anything conclusive, so we haven’t been able to eliminate any group. Heck,
I’m scared we’re going to find
more
possible connections. Like former members of the Merion Cricket Club or members of
the committee for the Devon Horse Show. You know, I thought the Terwilliger family
was kind of tangled, but a lot of these people overlap in the most unexpected ways.
And how far should we go? If two people sat next to each other at a mayor’s banquet
in 1993, does that count as a connection?”
“Well, maybe one of them spilled red wine all over the other, and the spillee has
been nursing a grudge ever since.”
“Very funny.” Marty sighed. “You know, the problem is not knowing whether some piece
of information is important or if we’re wasting our time. And the Society’s.” She
stared pensively at my ceiling. “Did all three take the same medicine when they overdosed?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t think to ask. Do you think it matters?”
“Maybe. If the police assumed the death in each case was natural, they might not check
prescriptions. Of course, there are plenty of over-the-counter medications that can
kill you if you take too much, particularly if you’re old or have other underlying
conditions. Or if you mix them with
Then the city had suffered from the flight of much of its industry to the growing
suburbs, starting in the 1950s, and as a result had faced serious financial struggles.
But the city had fought back. It had created a world-class convention center to draw
in visitors, and a new venue for its sports teams. The Constitution Center had filled
in a gap across from Independence Hall. New high-rises like Liberty Place I and II
had attracted high-end shops in a central location. Things were definitely looking
up for Philly.
But despite my research, I still couldn’t match Marty’s hereditary and encyclopedic
knowledge of the people we were looking at. Thank heavens I knew more than Shelby
did, or I would really feel like a dope. Having southern-bred Shelby as part of this
team forced us to put a lot of social assumptions into words, which could also be
helpful. All the information she would acquire would also make her much more useful
as a Society employee.
I made my way slowly back to my office. Eric looked up and said, “Something important
going on? You keep disappearing into all these little meetings.”
I smiled at him, glad he was at least observant. “Nothing you need to worry about,
Eric. Just an impromptu research project that I’ve asked Shelby and Marty to help
me with.” Then a thought struck me. “Eric, do you know who Edwin Forrest is?”
“No, ma’am. Is he a member here?”
“No, he’s been dead for more than a century—although that might be said for some of
our current members. He was an actor born in Philadelphia who went on to be quite
famous in the nineteenth century. It seems fame doesn’t last very long. Anyway, that
big statue downstairs next to the elevator—that’s Edwin, in all his glory. Anything
else on my calendar?”
“Just the usual: board reports and that kind of thing. I left some letters on your
desk for your signature.”
What a relief: nice, simple, boring, and predictable things that didn’t involve anyone
dying. “Then I’ll be in my office if anyone needs me.”
I wasn’t surprised when at the end of the afternoon, Marty walked in and dropped into
a chair.
“You look frustrated. Have you been working with Shelby all day?” I asked.
Marty scrubbed her fingers through her short hair. “With a quick break for lunch.
The good news is, she’s got the hang of this research, and she’s really into it now.
The bad news is, she doesn’t know the kind of details I know, so it’s been kind of
slow, going back and forth and filling in the spreadsheet. The worse news is, we still
don’t have anything conclusive, so we haven’t been able to eliminate any group. Heck,
I’m scared we’re going to find
more
possible connections. Like former members of the Merion Cricket Club or members of
the committee for the Devon Horse Show. You know, I thought the Terwilliger family
was kind of tangled, but a lot of these people overlap in the most unexpected ways.
And how far should we go? If two people sat next to each other at a mayor’s banquet
in 1993, does that count as a connection?”
“Well, maybe one of them spilled red wine all over the other, and the spillee has
been nursing a grudge ever since.”
“Very funny.” Marty sighed. “You know, the problem is not knowing whether some piece
of information is important or if we’re wasting our time. And the Society’s.” She
stared pensively at my ceiling. “Did all three take the same medicine when they overdosed?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t think to ask. Do you think it matters?”
“Maybe. If the police assumed the death in each case was natural, they might not check
prescriptions. Of course, there are plenty of over-the-counter medications that can
kill you if you take too much, particularly if you’re old or have other underlying
conditions. Or if you mix them with
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