Sean looked up at Jonathan, who nodded for him to go on. “I was working upstairs,” Sean said. “A man knocked at the door to the road. It was standing open for the air. I’m the most junior apprentice, so I went over to see what he wanted. He was a thin fellow and all he said was the word ‘bridge,’ gesturing an arch with his hand and pointing at the river, over and over. Even then I could barely understand him. He wasn’t from around here, Miss Rose.” He took a deep breath, but his voice quavered. “I don’t think he could speak much English. So I walked out with him and pointed toward the Chain Bridge.”
“Was he carrying anything?” I asked. “A bag or a valise?”
“Nothing. He gave me a pat on the shoulder and walked off. But then this carriage came racing up behind him. I saw it run him down. The driver swerved the horse away from the man at the last minute but the vehicle hit him and knocked him to the ground. It was terrible.” When his upper lip wobbled, Sean pressed his hand against his mouth and blinked away a tear.
I laid my hand on my young friend’s shoulder. “It must have been very hard for thee to witness that assault.”
Sean only nodded.
“I heard the collision and ran out,” Jonathan said. “The carriage didn’t even stop, but kept on in the direction of the bridge. Sean was in shock from the sight, so I sent him inside and hurried to call for the ambulance wagon. I went back out and saw Mrs. Bailey covering the gent with a blanket. She didn’t cover his face, so I knew he was still alive.”
“Sean, did thee note the type and make of carriage? What kind of horse was pulling it?”
He let out a breath through his lips, then brought his eyebrows together, as if thinking. “The carriage was a Stanhope runabout. Black with narrow red striping.”
I stared at him. The Settles had a Stanhope runabout. I’d seen it at the house. I wasn’t sure about the red striping, but such a detail could be checked.
“You’re very observant, Donovan,” Jonathan said.
Sean smiled. “I like to train my eye. My da says it’s important for his work, and I want to be able to help him one day. The horse, now let’s see.” He squinted into the distance. “That’s right, it was gray with a dark mane, but it went too fast for me to get a good look at it. Mr. Sherwood, we should tell my da about the accident.”
“I have already sent along a message to that effect,” Jonathan said. “Did you see the driver’s face, lad?”
“Not clearly. He wasn’t a thick man, but I didn’t see anything else to distinguish him.”
Not a thick man. Neither was Merton. Had he attempted to kill his brother? Of course, Adoniram didn’t have a thick build, either. Perhaps Merton had dispatched him to do the deed.
“I thank thee, Sean. This information is very helpful. I’ll let thy father know, since it appears to have been a purposeful attack and not an accident at all. I won’t keep thee from thy work any longer.” I patted the side of his face.
“I’m glad I could help, Miss Rose. I hope they catch the scoundrel who hit the man.”
“Thy father will, I am certain.” I turned to Jonathan. “And I thank thee for thy time. Thee can rest assured that, should I decide to become a mariner, I shall purchase my vessel here.” I smiled and we shook hands before I headed out. I needed to let Kevin know about the carriage and horse right away so he could check into Merton’s transport as well as the whereabouts of both Merton and his gardener. If the Polish man died of his injuries, this would be another case of homicide.
Thirty-seven
I was huffing and puffing on Main Street ascending the seemingly endless hill leading up to the downtown area from Patten Hollow. The sun beat down, making it a most uncomfortable ride. I finally dismounted to walk the rest of the way and glanced to my right. Jeanette sat in the shade of a tree to the side of her home, her hands moving on an open book with enormous pages and no discernible printing.
“Good day, Jeanette,” I called.
“Rose!” She turned her face in my direction. “Come and sit with me.” She patted the chair next to her.
“I believe I will.” I did want to get my information to Kevin, but it could wait a few minutes. I wheeled my bicycle up the walk and pushed down the kickstand, a clever recent invention mounted below the handlebars. I sank into the seat and inhaled the scent of a late-blooming lilac. “I’ve been down on Point Shore and this hill about kills me every time I ride back.”
She threw back her head and laughed. “You can’t escape hills in Amesbury, it’s true. Have you come from bringing a new life into the world?”
“No, not today. Sadly, a man was run down by a carriage this morning, and a boy I know happened to witness the facts. I’m on my way to relay the details to the police.”
“Why, was the gent killed?”
“No, but he is not faring well so far. He’s unconscious in the hospital.” I tried to shake off the image of a person being hit by a speeding vehicle. I had nearly been run off the road myself this winter. “In fact, it appears he is the Polish man for whom thee interpreted in court a few days ago.”
“Oh, my. The poor man. Was it an accident?”
“My young friend said it looked purposeful. I am now wondering whether it had to do with Mayme’s murder.”
Jeanette rocked in her chair. “Interesting. Say, I was in the bank with Mr. Papka this morning. He was conducting some business and I had to wait for him. Mr. Barclay had a visitor with the most unpleasant voice I think I’ve ever heard. She seemed to speak entirely through her nose.”
Nalia? I blinked. “Did thee learn her name?”
“He addressed her as Nalia. They were speaking quite intimately. I’m sure they thought I couldn’t hear them or they wouldn’t have been.”
“I met her at dinner at the Grand Hotel. Irvin Barclay introduced her as his cousin Nalia Bowerman, but between the two of us, they were certainly not acting like cousins.”
Jeanette nodded. “Bowerman. I once met a Mr. Bowerman, an older gentleman. I believe he was an avid student of the firmament in his spare time.”
“An astronomer?”
“An amateur, but yes. I heard he died only last year. The matter came up in court because he’d died owing money to more than one person.”
“Interesting. Looking at the stars is the same kind of work Nalia does down in Cambridge.”
“You don’t say. She must have acquired a love of the stars from her father. At any rate,” Jeanette went on, “what I overheard at the bank wasn’t the talk of cousins, either. It was rather more intimate, if you understand what I mean.”
“I do. In addition, early this morning when I was gardening, this Nalia came to my house and essentially threatened me.”
“She didn’t!” She turned her head toward me. “About what?”
“She accused me of meddling in the business of the police, and said Irvin planned to prevent his wife from receiving my midwifery care. Sissy is nearly at term with twins, Jeanette, and she’s never expressed the slightest dissatisfaction with me.”
“Well, well, well. The plot thickens. Isn’t that what they say in the Pinkerton novels?”
“I suppose. I feel bad for Sissy. She’s home alone with the cook, who told me her employer had dismissed all their other servants.” I shook my head. “Let’s not talk about this mess any further. Tell me, where is thy daughter this morning?”
“She’s off on an adventure with her papa. I think they planned to play at the lake and then find something sweet to eat.” She smiled fondly.
“Thee didn’t want to go along?”
“No. He’s very good about relieving me of the burden of being the only parent at home during the week. Anyway, I’m in the middle of reading an excellent novel.”
I focused on the book in her lap. The white pages were full of raised dots in all kinds of configurations but without a trace of ink. “Thee can read those dots?”
“Yes. It’s a writing system called braille. Each letter of the alphabet has a unique six-do
t representation.” She set the pads of her fingers lightly on the page. She kept one hand at the left and moved the other across the book horizontally. “I can read quite quickly.”
“What a marvel. What book is thee reading?”
“It’s Sense and Sensibility. I’m reading it in French, though. A music teacher at the Perkins School, where I studied, has developed an American braille system. But there aren’t many books yet available to be read. Luckily, my French is as good as my English.”
It truly was a marvel. A blind woman could sit in her yard in America reading a British novel translated into French and printed in dots.
“Enjoy thy solitary time and thy book, my friend. I’ll be off to see my detective friend and leave thee to it.” I stood.
“Keep yourself safe, Rose. Seems like we have more than our share of wrongdoing going on in our fair town this week. I wouldn’t want you to come to harm.”
Thirty-eight
At the police station, I finished telling Kevin what Sean had told me about the man being run down.
“I wish my boy hadn’t had to see that assault. Not a fit sight for young eyes.” He let out a noisy exhale. “But we’ll get on it, Miss Rose.”
“Kevin, if the Polish brother was here to claim his family’s money, Merton would have great cause to wish him harm, wouldn’t he?”
“I daresay he might. And speaking of inheritance, I have a piece of information for you. That business of Mrs. Settle and Mr. Barclay sharing some inheritance? It turns out to be a highly restrictive bestowal. The funds were to go only to the blood relatives named. Not their spouses, not their children or anyone else.”
“So, in fact, Irvin would get Mayme’s portion upon her death, after her estate is settled, not her husband.”
“Yes, he would.”
“One more piece of the puzzle, but it’s not clear where it belongs. Now, what about Bertie? Have you dropped her from your investigation?” I kept my tone firm and my expression serious.
He cleared his throat. “There’s been a new allegation against her, I’m afraid.”
“An allegation of what? From whom?”
“Chief wouldn’t say. But he’s breathing fire down my neck to sew up this case, and fast.”
I stood. “An allegation without proof is nothing.” I straightened my bonnet. “Good day, Kevin. And good luck.”
“I’ll need every ounce of it. But thank you.”
A minute after I left the police station, Bertie clopped up alongside me on Grover.
“What about another picnic by the lake, Rose Carroll?” She gazed down at me.
“Thee has the best ideas, Bertie Winslow.”
The two of us sat on a cloth by the banks of Lake Gardner ten minutes later. The breeze off the water refreshed me and her irreverent company was always a delight. I swallowed a bite of boiled egg. “I was hungry from my morning of riding all over town.”
“I brought us each a piece of chocolate cake, too.” Her straw boater hung from its ribbons down her back like a schoolgirl’s. “Good thing the post office closes at noon on Saturdays.”
“True words.” I looked her in the face. “Kevin said something about a new allegation against thee. He wouldn’t say what it was or who leveled it. Is thee worried?”
She shook her head twice, hard. “I am not. He’ll have to come up with evidence against me, which is impossible because it doesn’t exist. I intend to go on enjoying life and the police be damned.” She glanced at me. “And don’t you go worrying, either, dear Rose. It’s all going to be fine.”
“Very well.” I fervently hoped so. “Say, I saw the most remarkable thing a little while ago. I stopped by a client’s home, my friend Jeanette Papka’s.”
“The blind lady? I see her everywhere around town.”
“Yes. Did you know blind people can read books printed in raised dots? It’s a system called braille. What a marvelous invention. Not only that, but she was reading Jane Austen, in French, on white pages with nothing printed on them for the sighted.”
“I’ll say that is most marvelous, indeed.” Bertie took a swig from a bottle of ale she’d brought for herself.
I shuddered at the memory of my foray into drunkenness.
A man and a woman, each holding a child by the hand, strolled the lake from the direction of High Street. They slowed when they caught sight of us. As the man gazed at Bertie, his face pulled into an angry mask. He muttered something to his wife, who hustled the children toward the far end of the shore, glancing once over her shoulder as if she was afraid she was being followed. He stalked in our direction.
He halted and stared down at Bertie. “Your ilk shouldn’t be allowed in public.” He folded his arms. “It’s despicable.”
“Good afternoon, sir.” She smiled mildly at him. “It’s a free world, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“It shouldn’t be, not in your case.” He spat on the ground near her feet and stomped away.
“My stars and nightgown, Bertie,” I murmured. “What a rude, awful man.”
She picked up a pebble and tossed it after him, but he was long gone. “I’m used to it, Rose. He’s biased, and I can’t change his ilk, as he so stupidly put it. Don’t concern yourself about it.”
“Hmm. That will be easier said than done.”
“Tell me, any new developments on the murder case?” she asked, lowering her voice. “I mean, real ones?”
“I’m not sure.” I told her about the attack on the Polish man. “But I don’t know if it’s related or not.”
“Poor fellow. Hope he survives.”
“I do, as well.” I watched the lake, which sparkled in the sun like a sea full of diamonds. Several children splashed at water’s edge and a father and son tossed a ball back and forth. Three ladies picnicked near us, while a couple strolled arm in arm toward the woods beyond. “Have you ever encountered a woman named Nalia Bowerman?”
“I heard her give a lecture sometime in the last year. About the stars.”
“So the star part is true.”
Bertie raised an eyebrow. “Part of what?”
“She might be intimate with Irvin Barclay.”
My friend swore in a most unladylike way. “The man who ratted on me, who said I was lurking around the Settle house? I don’t like liars, Rose.”
“Kevin told me Irvin saw thee riding by because he was passing the house himself.”
“You think he might have killed Mrs. Settle? I can see the title on the newspaper story now.” She lowered her tone to a dramatic one. “Money Man Murders Matron.”
“Thee is full of such titles this week. In fact, Irvin did deliver candy via his wife on the night of Mayme’s death, candy that might have been poisoned. Maybe he went over and sneaked in to make sure the sweets had done the trick.”
“Then I hope he’s caught and hanged. Nobody deserves to be murdered. Not even a woman who cast aspersions on me right and left.”
“Murder aside, I’m concerned if he’s stepping out with a lady—an astronomer notwithstanding—who isn’t his wife.” I frowned. “I wish I knew how I could learn more about Nalia.”
“I believe she lives up near the top of Powow Hill in the house she inherited from her late father.”
So close to my own abode. “Is that so?”
Bertie bobbed her head. “I had to deliver a parcel out there once and I noticed her house has an actual observatory in the back.”
“One of those domes that opens.” I’d seen a picture of one in an article about Maria Mitchell in the newspaper after her soul was released to God, or she crossed the Dark River, as Orpha would put it.
“Exactly.”
“I’ve never seen it. I heard her father was an amateur astronomer. Perhaps he built the stargazing structure. Regardless”—I shook my head—“Irvin should not be having a dalliance with anyone except Sissy. He’s the father-to-be of twin babies, I think I told thee. The ones I’ll be helping his very pregnant wife to deliver sometime soon.”
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“Ouch.” Bertie wrapped her arms around her knees and stared at the lake.
“Ouch, indeed.” I tore off a piece of bread and nibbled on it.
Bertie gazed at the lake as if she hadn’t heard me. I knew my friend well enough to sense her thoughts were elsewhere. I waited a moment more before speaking.
“Berto, what are you thinking so hard on?” I nudged her shoulder softly. Maybe this time she’d tell me.
She turned to look at me. A cloud had passed over her mood as dark as the one that scudded over the sun. “I’m a twin, Rose.”
I stared at her. “Thee is a twin? I never knew that.” She was finally ready to relate her twin story, for which I was grateful, although it seemed it would not be a happy one. “Does thee have a sister or a brother?”
“Had. Alberta, an identical twin sister. But she was a tiny thing, always weak and struggling despite having a cheery spirit like my usual one. Albie died when we were four.”
Oh, my. “I’m so, so sorry. Her death must have been terribly wrenching for thee, and for thy parents.”
She nodded as if it pained her to do so. “It was. Seeing her laid out is one of my first real memories. It was like a part of me had died, too. I still feel the pain, even though it’s been nearly forty years.”
“Twins have a very tight bond.”
“Mmm.” Bertie blew out a breath. “You know how I never see my mother?”
“Yes, and thee has never told me why. She’s right across the Merrimack in West Newbury, isn’t she?”
“She is, in the house where I grew up.”
“Is thee estranged because she disapproves of thy feelings for Sophie?”
“No.” Bertie paused for a moment, then went on. “She treated me very badly after my sister died. As if it was my fault we’d lost Albie. I needed more love than ever. I received far less. I tried to make her understand and finally gave up the fight when I became of age.” Bertie blew out a noisy, half-sobbing breath. “Now she herself is ill and writes to me every month. But I can’t reconcile the hole in my heart. She made it so much bigger than it needed or deserved to be.”
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