burnished image?” asks Harry.
“I don’t know, but I’m not closing off any avenues at the moment.”
Harry is jotting notes, a small pad on the table in front of him.
“You’d have to think that if this letter exists and if it’s that significant, there would be some reference to it in other documents,” I say.
There are voluminous treatises covering the correspondence between the framers. These include hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of footnotes, the Federalist Papers, followed by entire libraries of books written on the subject.
“Someone would have had to have mentioned it somewhere.” I am talking about the mystery letter. “Check it out. Get somebody to do some research. If not here, in D.C. Try the Library of Congress.”
“We can hire a research service, but it’s gonna cost,” says Harry. “We don’t have much to go on. No date. No author for the letter. All we know is that it dealt with slavery and cut some kind of deal. Research could take a while.”
So far we have lined up a few experts to go over the lab reports on physical evidence found at the scene. We have investigators out talking to some of Arnsberg’s friends. Except for the letter mentioned by Bonguard and the fact that Scarborough seemed to fall back more than once on the same item in his speech, there is nothing else to go on.
“I tried to call Bonguard to talk to him,” says Harry. “Left messages.”
“And?”
“He never called back.”
“In your message did you tell him what it was about?”
Harry nods. “Uh-huh. Which has me wondering if he’s willing to talk to us at all.”
With Scarborough dead, the only one who can tell us about the mystery letter is Bonguard. This suddenly pushes him to the top of the curiosity list.
“Do you want to try to call him?” says Harry.
“What good would that do? If he’s not going to talk to you, why would he talk to me?”
“Maybe you have better phone karma,” says Harry.
Harry and I talk for a while. Over all of this, the mystery letter seems to hang there like a thread, daring us to pull on it.
“You know what troubles me more than anything else?” says Harry.
“What’s that?”
“Scarborough. For all the fiery rhetoric—call it manipulation,” he says, “still, what he said about the language and slavery, the Constitution, it was accurate, all of it. I mean, he fudged around the edges a little.”
“He did a bit more than fudge at the edges,” I say. “From my reading, slavery was the third rail of politics during the Constitutional Convention. Nobody wanted to touch it, neither pro-slave nor anti-slave. They all knew that any attempt to recognize it or abolish it would result in the new nation being stillborn. Move in either direction and half of the states would refuse to play, take their ball and go home.”
“That may account for the covert language,” says Harry. “But there’s no denying that they recognized slavery. Like it or not, Scarborough had it right. It may have been the only deal possible, but that doesn’t dry-clean it or make it any less grimy. And the fact that the words are still there, visible to the entire world, is indisputable.”
“Your point is?”
“Since none of this is new—that language has been out there for what, going on two and a half centuries?—why now? What caused Scarborough to pounce on it at this moment and in this way, unless he was spurred on by someone or some thing. ”
“You’re thinking what I’m thinking—whatever it is, is in that letter.”
He nods. “If Scarborough knew what was in it, and we have to assume that he did. If he’s not going to stretch the language of the Constitutionto fit his convenient yen for a second American Revolution, why would he exaggerate the contents of this letter?”
“So if that’s the case, whatever is in that letter must be pretty bad,” I say.
“That’s what I was thinking,” says Harry. “And if this is true, the letter could be
“I don’t know, but I’m not closing off any avenues at the moment.”
Harry is jotting notes, a small pad on the table in front of him.
“You’d have to think that if this letter exists and if it’s that significant, there would be some reference to it in other documents,” I say.
There are voluminous treatises covering the correspondence between the framers. These include hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of footnotes, the Federalist Papers, followed by entire libraries of books written on the subject.
“Someone would have had to have mentioned it somewhere.” I am talking about the mystery letter. “Check it out. Get somebody to do some research. If not here, in D.C. Try the Library of Congress.”
“We can hire a research service, but it’s gonna cost,” says Harry. “We don’t have much to go on. No date. No author for the letter. All we know is that it dealt with slavery and cut some kind of deal. Research could take a while.”
So far we have lined up a few experts to go over the lab reports on physical evidence found at the scene. We have investigators out talking to some of Arnsberg’s friends. Except for the letter mentioned by Bonguard and the fact that Scarborough seemed to fall back more than once on the same item in his speech, there is nothing else to go on.
“I tried to call Bonguard to talk to him,” says Harry. “Left messages.”
“And?”
“He never called back.”
“In your message did you tell him what it was about?”
Harry nods. “Uh-huh. Which has me wondering if he’s willing to talk to us at all.”
With Scarborough dead, the only one who can tell us about the mystery letter is Bonguard. This suddenly pushes him to the top of the curiosity list.
“Do you want to try to call him?” says Harry.
“What good would that do? If he’s not going to talk to you, why would he talk to me?”
“Maybe you have better phone karma,” says Harry.
Harry and I talk for a while. Over all of this, the mystery letter seems to hang there like a thread, daring us to pull on it.
“You know what troubles me more than anything else?” says Harry.
“What’s that?”
“Scarborough. For all the fiery rhetoric—call it manipulation,” he says, “still, what he said about the language and slavery, the Constitution, it was accurate, all of it. I mean, he fudged around the edges a little.”
“He did a bit more than fudge at the edges,” I say. “From my reading, slavery was the third rail of politics during the Constitutional Convention. Nobody wanted to touch it, neither pro-slave nor anti-slave. They all knew that any attempt to recognize it or abolish it would result in the new nation being stillborn. Move in either direction and half of the states would refuse to play, take their ball and go home.”
“That may account for the covert language,” says Harry. “But there’s no denying that they recognized slavery. Like it or not, Scarborough had it right. It may have been the only deal possible, but that doesn’t dry-clean it or make it any less grimy. And the fact that the words are still there, visible to the entire world, is indisputable.”
“Your point is?”
“Since none of this is new—that language has been out there for what, going on two and a half centuries?—why now? What caused Scarborough to pounce on it at this moment and in this way, unless he was spurred on by someone or some thing. ”
“You’re thinking what I’m thinking—whatever it is, is in that letter.”
He nods. “If Scarborough knew what was in it, and we have to assume that he did. If he’s not going to stretch the language of the Constitutionto fit his convenient yen for a second American Revolution, why would he exaggerate the contents of this letter?”
“So if that’s the case, whatever is in that letter must be pretty bad,” I say.
“That’s what I was thinking,” says Harry. “And if this is true, the letter could be
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