by R A Wallace
His mouth twisted into a scowl of self-loathing. “Can’t even provide for my own anymore.”
“That’s partly why I came to speak with you,” Delia said. “There was an incident out at the new game preserve.” She watched his eyes shutter. “I know you were there. I am not here to make accusations of any kind. I merely wish to know what you saw.”
Gary’s eyes shifted away.
“Mr. Weir, are you aware that a man was killed that day?”
Gary’s eyes flew to hers then his head bent to his grandchildren. He managed a smile for them. “Why don’t you go on inside. See what was in that bag the teacher brought.”
Gary watched as the children moved to the house then turned his focus to Delia. “They don’t need to be hearing nothing about all that.”
“You were there hunting,” she prompted. At the stubborn set of his jaw, she repeated her previous sentiment. “I am not here to judge, Mr. Weir. I do need you to tell me what you know.”
“Can’t see how it would help,” he said as his eyes slid toward the house again.
“The killer is still free,” she reminded him.
His head swiveled back toward her. “Saw a man in the woods.”
Delia briefly lifted her brows to show her interest and waited for the rest.
“Short plug of a man,” he continued.
“You didn’t recognize him?”
Gary shook his head. “Never seen him. Not from what I recall.”
Delia wondered if Gary was describing the victim. “Can you give any more details about the man that you saw?”
“Didn’t want to be seen,” Gary said. “Man can get into a lot trouble just because he wants to feed his family.” The look he gave Delia made it clear he didn’t agree with the punishment.
She pressed again. “But you saw him. Other than short and wide, what else can you tell me.”
“His boots.” Gary’s eyes shifted away from her as though seeing them again.
“What about them?”
“Looked like he worked hard for a living. They were the sturdy kind that you might wear in the factory.” His eyes went back to her. “You know the kind I mean? The ones made of leather to withstand water and acid.”
She left the Weir home and made her way to Bud Martin’s house. Though it was situated on another dirt road, the house resembled that of the Weirs. She guessed that Bud Martin was older than Gary Weir. For whatever reason, his grizzled face wasn’t filled with the distrust shared by his poaching partner.
“Sure is a nice place out there.” Bud made a noise deep in his throat then turned to spit. “Can’t wait till they stock it with game.”
She took a guess. “Are you familiar with the property?”
“You betcha.” He flashed a grin of tobacco stained teeth. “Been sneaking on the property since I was just a little mite.”
“Mr. Weir mentioned that you heard someone approach?” she prompted.
“That we did.” His forehead puckered even more as his face morphed into a scowl. “I imagine all kinds of people will be traipsing around the property now. No telling what the hunting will be like with all them amateurs coming out on a lark.”
“Can you describe the man you saw?”
Bud started to chuckle at her question but it quickly turned to a cough. After multiple attempts, he finally spat out the offensive phlegm causing the problem.
“I don’t go there to greet people,” he said.
“You ducked out of sight?”
“Sure did. Soon as I heard someone coming through the brush.” Bud wiped his arm over his mouth. “He were a plug of a man.” He motioned toward his brow. “He had one of them there judge style hats with the inside flaps turned down to cover his ears. Hid his face and head pretty well.”
Delia filed the information away. “Anything else?”
“Boots.” Bud repeated Gary Weir’s description.
Delia left Bud a few minutes later. Like Gary, Bud claimed he’d never seen the man before. She still wasn’t sure if the man they described was the victim but she knew someone who would know. She made her way to the police station.
Rufus Duncan sat at the front desk with his hands poised over the keys of a typewriter. He smiled when he saw Delia and quickly pushed back his chair to stand.
His solid form reminded her of the description given by the poachers. She glanced at the neatly typewritten pile of papers on his desk.
She motioned toward the old typewriter she had given him. “You’re coming right along.”
“Still operating under the hunt and peck system but I’ll wager I’m the fastest two fingered typist this side of the Mississippi.” His grin showed his pleasure at the accomplishment. “Can’t tell you how happy the chief is that he doesn’t have to guess at my handwriting anymore.”
Rufus motioned for her to follow him as he continued speaking. “He’s threatening to have all the men use them.”
“You won’t hear me argue against it.”
Rufus tapped on Judson’s door before pushing it open. He held up a finger as Judson ended a telephone call then motioned for her to go inside. He disappeared after lifting a stack of papers from one of the trays on Judson’s desk.
Delia perched on the edge of a large chair across from Judson’s desk. “I have some questions about the death at the game preserve but I have some things to tell you as well.”
“Fair enough.” He leaned back in his chair and eyed her with curiosity. “What got you involved?” He answered before she did. “Wesley.” He nearly spat the word out.
“He ordered me not to investigate the murder.”
His scowl morphed into a smile. “How is that working out?”
“He may be disappointed,” she acknowledged.
“Ha! Good for him. His people ruined my crime scene.” Judson steepled his hands. “Still not sure they didn’t do it on purpose.”
“That’s the part he wanted me to look into,” she said.
Interest flooded his eyes. “And?”
“It seems the three you know about weren’t the only ones in the woods that day,” she said.
He nodded once slowly. “My men have managed to shake a few more out from the trees as well.”
Delia held up one hand and began counting on fingers. “We have George, Arthur, and Alexander. The three the captain told me about.”
“You’ve spoken with them.” It wasn’t a question.
“Indeed. Each managed to implicate the other.” Her brows pulled together. “Were they the ones to call the police?”
“No. That was…”
“Parker, the military student.” She added another finger then continued counting. “He was there with Miles, Amos, and Sherman.”
The corner of Judson’s mouth turned up.
“Then we have the lovers.”
“Excuse me?”
“That would be Ivy Banks and Howard Leach. I told them your men would probably be stopping by.”
“Indeed.” He reached for pen and paper.
“Might I ask what your feelings are on the subject of poaching?”
“It’s against the law.” He didn’t look up as he continued writing. “But a man has to feed his family.”
“I find myself in the same quandary,” she said mostly to herself. “You’ll want to add Gary Weir and Bud Martin to your list.”
He hummed an agreement. “Anything else?”
She asked him to share his list of names before leaving for the return trip back to the campus. She was just finishing her grading when there was a tap at her door. She found Sam on the other side.
“Little late for you to be out, isn’t it?” She stepped back to let him inside.
“Can’t stay, miss.” Sam stepped in and looked around with interest. “Hazel sent me on my bicycle but I’m to return home right away.”
Delia couldn’t help smiling at his words though Sam didn’t see it. He was much too interested in her new apartment. She wondered if he even realized
that he’d referred to Hazel’s house as home and that he hadn’t called her miss. She also wondered if he would ever manage to make the switch to mother. She hoped so, for Hazel’s sake.
He pulled a letter from his pocket. “This came for you.”
Delia reached for the letter. It was addressed to Hazel’s house. She wished Sam a good night before locking the door behind him. She opened the letter as she settled back down on the sofa. It was from Euphemia.
It was so lovely to hear your voice. It helped me to know that you truly are getting settled in your new home. Since the telephone call, I learned a bit about some of the names you gave to me.
Marcus Sidehill has ties to the military, though not in a way you might imagine. He contacted some here in Washington about a cipher code he developed. I understand it is expected the complexity guarantees to turn the tide of the war. The code sent shockwaves among the upper echelons here in the know, as you might imagine. The admiral is very keen to have his hands on it. He is dispatching men to you even as I write this.
Delia’s eyes lifted as she considered the ramifications. The admiral would not be so excited if it weren’t truly of great significance. Euphemia’s news put an entirely new slant on the murder in the woods. How many others knew about the victim’s plans? Is that why they were all there in the woods? Because they knew about the potential gain? Such a code would be worth a great deal of money to the highest bidder. Her eyes went down to the letter again as she continued reading.
As for Alexander Boardman, that is another story. Though his family is well-known in some circles, they have suffered a recent setback with an investment. I regret to inform you that the loss was with a country currently fighting on the other side. If my sources can be trusted, the monetary loss was quite substantial. The ability of the family to recover from it is questionable.
Delia lowered the letter to her lap. “Oh, Mena.”
Chapter Fourteen
Otis watched Wesley frown at the morning newspaper. “What is it?”
“Is it my imagination, or has this thing gotten smaller?” Wes held aloft the section in his hand.
Otis waved his own section. “It’s part of the directives for conservation.”
“They believe giving us less news will save on resources?” Wes lowered his paper and reached for his coffee cup. It was empty. He glanced over at Otis.
Otis smiled wryly. “Refill?”
“I’ll get it.” Wes pushed himself up. “Appears I’ll have plenty of time to serve us both with a newspaper that grows increasingly small.”
“There is still news a plenty,” Otis said as Wesley took his empty cup. He opened his section to a new page and frowned at the headlines. “There’s a mention here of the parade.”
“Which parade?” Wes filled Otis’s cup.
“The women’s Liberty Loan committee. They’re having a parade to honor the soldiers.”
“Very commendable.” Wes set Otis’s cup next to him.
“I don’t think your sister should attend.”
Wes made a noise of agreement as he returned to the sideboard.
“You’ll talk to her about it then?” Otis watched as Wes shot him a look across the room. “She shouldn’t go,” he repeated. “It won’t be safe.”
Wes left his coffee cup at his seat but returned to the sideboard to fill a plate. “What else is in the miniature paper?”
“There’s more news of the influenza.” Otis frowned as he reached for his coffee. “And we’ve lost another ship. Torpedoed. It’s assumed all hands were lost.”
The lid of the chafing dish clattered down. “So much for breakfast.”
“Sorry, old man.”
“It didn’t look particularly appealing anyway. I think Cook reused the leftover corned beef from the other morning.” Wes returned to his seat without a plate. “The poor souls.”
Otis stood. “I’ll see if there’s anything else to take the place of the corned beef.”
Wes reached for the newspaper section with the article of the ship that was lost. “I’m not sure it matters.”
Otis made his way to the kitchen anyway. The other side of the baize door held more activity than the dining room. The staff were all busy moving about with their morning duties. He stopped when he saw Martha preparing a tray for the children’s breakfast.
“Any extra toast this morning?” Otis watched Martha glance at Cook. “Just two slices for the captain.”
“I’ll get it for you,” Martha said before moving off to speak quietly with Cook at the stove.
He watched the two women whisper. Martha returned with a plate a few moments later. “This is already done. I’ll make a little more for the children.”
Otis gave his thanks loudly enough for everyone in the room to hear before passing back through the baize door. He learned at a young age that it was much wiser to keep on the good side of the kitchen staff. Perhaps it would simply be easier to tell Cook not to use corned beef in the future? Then again, the woman had no control over the news in the papers. Both were enough to make a man lose his appetite. He stopped just before reaching the dining room when he heard voices inside.
“Otis doesn’t think you should attend the parade,” Wesley said.
“Your manservant assumes too much.” Virginia’s voice was cold.
“That isn’t fair, Ginny. The man is only trying to protect you. You and the children.”
Otis entered the room before she had a chance to reply. He set the toast in front of Wesley then turned to look at Virginia.
“Will you require anything else?” Otis clasped his hands behind his back as he waited for her response.
She took in his rigid posture. “Thank you, no. I have a great deal of work to do this morning.”
He nodded once then turned to leave. He heard her tell her brother that she would be taking the car later in the day. With so many attending the parade, she should be perfectly safe she said.
Otis forced himself not to turn around and argue with the woman. He doubted it would do much good at the moment. He needed concrete evidence to convince her that her decision was unwise. He racked his brain trying to think of something as he made his way to the children. He found Thomas nearly ready for school.
Otis finished buttoning Thomas’s crisp white shirt. After adjusting the necktie, he then checked to make sure the shirt was properly tucked into Thomas’s knickerbockers. “Ready for another day?”
“Yes, sir.”
“There’s a good lad. You’ll need to wear the matching suit jacket this morning.” Otis watched Thomas make a face. “I know. It’s cool in the mornings and warm by the time you get out of school.”
“Then I have to carry it home.” Thomas’s voice made it clear it was a chore but he didn’t complain when Otis helped him put it on.
“I remember feeling the same way when I was your age,” Otis said as he led the way to the front door.
They both stopped to retrieve their hats before leaving the house. They ran into Sam along the way. Otis got the impression the boy was waiting for them and noted how happy Thomas was. He chatted with the two boys until they reached the Model School. After ensuring that Thomas was safely in the hands of the teachers, he decided to take a turn around the campus. He hadn’t made it far when he encountered the yeoman.
He nodded a greeting and slowed his steps when he saw her face. “Something the matter?”
She turned to look behind her for a moment as she debated what she wanted to say. “It was probably nothing.”
He felt himself go on alert. “What?”
She offered a smile. “It probably was just my imagination, but I took a walk late last night.”
“I didn’t see you,” he said.
“My routine changed a bit,” she said with a nod. “I went out a little later than usual. I had to take a different route to avoid the night watchman on duty.”
Otis wondered again at the ease of doing so. He had considered speaking with Wesley about hir
ing someone with better skills but convinced himself not to in the end. The night watchman was doing his job. True, the campus was large and there was no way one man could have eyes on every part of it at once. But the campus also wasn’t in the middle of a war zone. It was a school that had gone on as it was for decades before Otis came along. The night watchman couldn’t be expected to handle the fiend.
“Something happened?” Otis asked.
“Yes, I saw some men moving about. I don’t believe it was anyone outside of the campus community,” she said quickly.
He felt his heart quicken. “You can’t confirm it?”
She made a face indicating no. “I don’t know. Not for certain. I believe it was perhaps two of the new military officers moving about.”
“Interesting.”
“I thought so too. The guard had just passed by me. I’d ducked out of sight of course. Just when I thought it safe to move about again, I heard someone else coming. But then no one appeared.” She grimaced. “I’d just about convinced myself it was my imagination as I drew closer to my dorm.”
“And then?”
“That was when I saw two figures moving in the dark. I could be wrong, of course. It could be any number of males.”
“Our ranks have increased a great deal recently,” he said as he considered it.
“But I’d spoken to the two of the instructors yesterday,” she said slowly. “As soon as I saw the movement last night, I instinctively thought of them.”
“Bears watching,” he said.
“I must be going,” she said as she moved away. “I have a class.”
He thought about what she said as he made his way to the infirmary. One of the articles in the miniaturized newspaper had worried him. When he first stepped inside, he thought no one was about. The front office was empty. He was about to leave when he heard someone coughing uncontrollably through the door at the rear of the office.
Otis slipped through the door unprepared for what he saw on the other side. There were rows of cots, some of them filled with young people. They were obviously very sick. He scanned the room until he saw a woman dressed as a nurse that appeared to be in charge. He crossed over to speak with her but had to wait until she finished ministering the young man in the cot.