One violently rainy evening in February 1857, Harvey Burdell, a wealthy dentist, was found slain — his head nearly disconnected from his neck — in his home office at 31 Bond St. in New York. In the court of public opinion, fueled by hysterical tabloids, suspicion fell on Emma Cunningham, a young widow who lived on the upper floors in exchange for managing the household’s servants. That summer, the murder trial captivated a city.

Pre-Civil War New York was in the midst of a boom. New money flooded in from the bustling ports, the din of constant construction filled the city, and land continued to be snatched from its Indian occupants. Bleecker Street was considered “uptown,” the Bowery was a bawdy entertainment district, and oversized mansions were popping up along Fifth Avenue.

Ellen Horan has novelized the events of the “frightfully atrocious” murder (as The Post wrote at the time) and the sensational trial that ensued.

Neither Burdell nor Cunningham were particularly admirable creatures.

He had already swindled his own brother, leaving him destitute. Burdell wasn’t just a mild-mannered doctor — he was more interested in buying up and speculating on land, particularly the swampy stretches of Elizabeth, NJ, where he had just purchased a large parcel, convinced that it would soon become a hub for shipping and transportation. He rushed around town after office hours pursuing quasi-legal moneymaking schemes, including an underground slave and gun-trading ring.

Emma, a young widow with two daughters, entered into her arrangement with Burdell because she had no other way to support herself — and because he has promised to eventually marry her. Once installed in Burdell’s, she spent her days buying finery, instilling fear among the servants, and finding suitable husbands for her daughters.

The dentist had his own plans for Emma — cheating her out of the land he persuaded her to buy and faking a marriage certificate to claim her property.

She had plenty of motive for his murder. Yet Cunningham was acquitted, and the case was never solved. Inheriting part of his estate didn’t solve her problems, however — Emma Cunningham died a pauper.

Today, their bodies are buried near each other at the Greenwood Cemetery in Brooklyn. Two years ago, with the help of the author of a strictly historical account of the murder, “Butchery on Bond Street,” they were given actual headstones. Guilty or not, Emma’s reads, “God rest her troubled soul.”

31 Bond Street

by Ellen Horan

HarperCollins