Colt John Caldwell - The devils right hand : the tragic story of the Colt family curse

T HE D EVILS R IGHT H AND

A LSO BY M. W ILLIAM P HELPS

Perfect Poison

Lethal Guardian

Every Move You Make

Sleep in Heavenly Peace

Murder in the Heartland

Because You Loved Me

If Looks Could Kill

Ill Be Watching You

Deadly Secrets

Cruel Death

Death Trap

Kill for Me

Failures of the Presidents (co-author)

Nathan Hale: The Life and Death of Americas First Spy

The Devils Rooming House: The True Story of Americas Deadliest Female Serial Killer

Love Her to Death

Too Young to Kill

Never See Them Again

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Copyright 2012 by M. William Phelps

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, except as may be expressly permitted in writing from the publisher. Requests for permission should be addressed to Globe Pequot Press, Attn: Rights and Permissions Department, P.O. Box 480, Guilford, CT 06437.

Lyons Press is an imprint of Globe Pequot Press.

Text design: Sheryl P. Kober
Layout artist: Justin Marciano
Project editor: Kristen Mellitt

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available on file.

ISBN 978-0-7627-6379-5

Printed in the United States of America

10

For any child dreaming
of the next great invention...

Fear tastes like a rusty knife and do not let her into your house.

Courage tastes of blood. Stand up straight.

Admire the world. Relish the love of a gentle woman.

Trust in the Lord.

J OHN C HEEVER, The Wapshot Chronicle

S AM A DAMS WAS RUNNING BEHIND SCHEDULE. I T WAS A WARM SUMMER afternoon in New York City, Friday, September 17, 1841, sometime near 1:00 p.m. The married printer, a man in his early thirties, hurried along Broadway in the financial district, close to the neighborhood of Park Row and Murray Street. Hanging around Adamss modest belly was his favorite gold chain, on which hung his pocket watch, key and seal attached. Although he was buried in debt, having been on the receiving end of several bad business deals recently, Adams wore moderately expensive clothing. A black coat, his wife, Emmeline, later recalled,... vest, gambroon pantaloons, a cotton shirt and black stock, which Emmeline had sewn herself. The reclusive, quiet, and religious man had a full shock of wavy black hair and oddly resembled future president Abraham Lincoln during his younger, beardless days. Adams was anxious to run a few errands and then head north a few blocks to Chambers Street. He needed to see about some money owed to him by a client for a nearly completed printing job. Frustration and contempt nagged Adams a bit on this afternoon; he believed one of his most trusted patrons was taking advantage of him. He felt he had been used and it was costing him his business. No more, the printer decided, would he lie down and be taken for a fool.

City Clerk John Johnson ran into Adams inside the Board of Foreign Missions near Murray Street. After a brief chat, Johnson went on his way, only to bump into Adams again on Chambers Street hours later, somewhere close to three oclock.

He was going from Centre Street to Broadway, Johnson explained, on the side next to the post office. I did not speak to him then. He was walking moderately.

Johnson could tell something weighed heavily on Adams; rather, that Adams seemed terribly rushed. When they had spoken earlier, Johnson mentioned a proof for a job [Adams] had been in the habit of printing for the city.

Ill bring it to your office, Adams told the clerk, further explaining that the job wasnt yet finished.

Adams had always been good about stopping for a chat, Johnson recalled days after they saw each other. In fact, there was not a man who had made the acquaintance of Samuel Adams who would later speak an ill word of him. Alfred Peckham had lived with Adams for two of the fifteen years he had known him, saying, He was a remarkably mild, inoffensive man. But he frequently mentioned to me about his business and what trouble he had.

A fellow printer, Thomas Smith, said he always considered [Adams] a very mild... man, so much so that [... he would not] insult [a person,] even if he received one.

He [would] speak to me when we met, but not on this occasion, Johnson noted, speaking of that brief moment when Johnson watched Adams cross Centre Street on his way toward Broadway.