The Floating Corpse

by James Walker

  I’m not sure how Rowan reacted to that, but William was right behind me as I opened the door and went out. William walked at a furious pace as we retraced our steps through the station. I don’t know if it was due to irritation or purpose, but I had to double time it to stay on his heels. We went through the foyer without a glance in the desk’s direction and out the doors down the stone stairway. I nearly slammed into my uncle’s back when he came to a stop as soon as we reached the street. He turned and looked over my shoulder and his face lit up with some discovery. I turned to see what he was gawking at and saw the Sargent we spoke to on our way in, barking directions at six of his men who were just mounting horses.

  After watching for a few moments, something struck me as odd. “I thought the force was mechanized, Uncle Will. Why the Wild West routine?”

  He didn’t answer me for a moment, and then he just beamed at me. “That is an interesting question, Collin. I suggest we head over to the Inn for tea, where we can put our thinking caps on.”

  I shrugged, “Sure thing.” I readily agreed although my tea would have a foaming head on it.

  11

  The Inn apparently hadn’t changed much since my father’s journal description of it, so I felt like I already knew the place. Directly ahead was the front desk, with its usual ledger on the counter and rows of keys and room boxes. To our left was the bar area, with a few older men having a beer at the bar and a few tables that were empty. The room looked old and well used. My kind of place and I renewed my vow to return some night soon.

  To our right was the dining area. Only one of the tables was occupied by a couple of older gals, but William waited just off the carpet. I walked up and stood next to him, pointedly looking at all the empty tables.

  “They got a strict Matre’D here?” I quipped. William just gave me a sly glance out of the corner of his eye. “Worse. You put one toe on that rug before you’re invited, and we’ll be tossed out on our ears!”

  I didn’t see the sense of waiting to be seated in an empty dining room when there was an operating bar just across the way, but I was curious as to why my Uncle was deferential to an eatery in a one- horse town as this. Jeepers! The man had dined with the Queen of England.

  It was a solid three minutes before the door that led to the kitchen in the back swung open and a thick-set, white haired woman came bustling out. She was carrying a small tray with a piece of paper on it, but she saw William and changed direction immediately.

  “Mr. Gillette! How are you? Come in, come in. Sit anywhere you’d like. I’ll be right with you.” She hustled off to give the ladies their bill and William led me over to a table on the far side of the massive fireplace that dominated the inside wall. It was a decent sized table, set for two, occupying the farthest point from the entry and the windows on the street side. The sun had passed over by then and it was still too early to light the lamps, so it was dim, yet comfortably private.

  “Hello, Kitty.” William greeted her. “How is George these days?”

  “Just like our clamming boat -- leaky but still reliable!”

  We all laughed, and she looked at me, her face turning sad, “And you must be Collin Frohman. Do you mind?”

  Before I could ask her how she knew my name or what I minded, she threw her arms around me and gave me a fierce hug. She stepped back and I was touched to see a tear in her eye.

  “I was so sorry to hear, dearie. We all were. You father was a kind and generous man!”

  “Thank you, Ma’am.” I replied. “That’s very kind of you to say.”

  She patted me on the arm. “Sit, Gents, sit! Are you hungry? Jimmy’s on his break right now, but he left some venison stew on the stove.”

  “Just tea for me, Kitty.” William replied with a smile, as we each took a seat.

  “Alrighty!” She looked at me and must have seen the disappointment on my face. “How about you Mr. Frohman? I never knew a strapping lad who couldn’t find room for a bowl of stew.” Then she winked at me, “Of course, tea won’t go well with that, so how about a pint of our best draft alongside it?”

  I wasn’t all that hungry, but I remembered Pop raving about the food here and a beer appealed to me far more than a cup of tea, so I beamed at her.

  “That would be great.”

  “Coming right up,” she assured us as she hustled off through the kitchen door.

  “A bowl of stew, Collin?” William asked with a glint in his eye, “Did I not feed you enough at the lunch we just ate two hours ago?”

  I shrugged, “I’m mostly just curious. Dad said he had one of the best meals of his life here, and that’s saying a lot for a man that ate like he did!”

  William nodded in acquiescence, “Jimmy, the chef here, does have a deft hand in the kitchen. He’s not too fancy, not like those high-brow chefs in a city’s restaurant, but everything he makes is delicious!” He paused and gave me a sly look, “Though I rather think it was the beer that accompanied it that caught your fancy.”

  “Well,” I tried to be flippant, “I never knew you for an afternoon tea kind of guy! I thought I’d try something new myself.” I rolled my eyes in a theatrical way.

  He laughed, “Fair enough! No, I never adopted that British custom. I wanted to come here to sit and ponder our next move. I have found the Inn conducive to that.” He winked at me, “Though I wish they served the Coca-Cola here.”

  We sat in silence, not because I didn’t want conversation, but because my uncle immediately fell into one of his pensive trances. I didn’t have a clue about how to proceed. We had no way to identify the baby, no way to track whoever left her, and little chance someone would step forward and confess! Wild thoughts and implausible theories swam around my head until I gave up. Uncle Will would have to be even more clever than dad made him out to be if he was going to fulfill his oath of justice. The minutes stretched out, so I finally spoke.

  “So, what is our next move, Uncle Will? All I see are dead ends.”

  “Nonsense! Our next step will present herself shortly.”

  A few seconds later, the door to the kitchen opened and Kitty came bustling in, carrying a tray. She set it on the table next to us and in a jiff had William’s tea laid out and a whopping bowl of steaming stew in front of me. I had to suffer a small delay as she added a napkin, spoon, and a hunk of bread to my setting.

  Only then did she place a tall stein in front of me, with condensation on the outside and a light amber liquid on the inside. I was just reaching for that goblet of heaven when William suddenly stood and pulled another chair closer to our table. He shot me a look, and I stood also.

  Bowing slightly to Kitty he asked, “Would you be so kind as to join us for a few moments, Katherine? I should like to speak with you, if I may.”

  Kitty looked a bit nervous as she glanced between the two of us, but she quickly recovered and beamed. “Of course Mr. Gillette. I’d be delighted.”

  When she was settled, her demeanor grew serious. “Would this talk be about the poor babe you found on your property today?”

  William sat back with a satisfied look on his face. “Well. I was certain word would get out quickly, even so, I am astounded.”

  “Why, dearie? You sent the crew home early. Didn’t you think a few of them might have stopped for a drink?” She smirked, “On a busman’s holiday? With pay?”

  William chuckled. “I see your point, but I had hoped the men would be a bit more discreet than to wag their tongues at the first opportunity.”

  She reached over and patted him on the arm. “Don’t be too hard on the lads, Dearie. It was bound to come out sooner than later.”

  “Any idea whose it was?”

  “None. At this late stage, there is little evidence to be gleaned from the child’s corpse.

  “That is why I wish to talk to you. I asked the Sargent to provide me with a list of midwives in the area, in the off chance that the child was not delivered by the doctors in town. Yet, we both know that there are those who won’t
speak freely to the police… you though; well… everyone talks to you.”

  The woman actually blushed a little. “Pshaw, Mr. Gillette. It’s the whiskey and wine that does all the talking- I just listen! But give me a minute…let me put my thinking cap on.”

  William dutifully kept his mouth shut and sipped his tea and I, mostly ignored so far, dug a little deeper into my stew. I was never a fan of game meat, however this was the best bowl of stew I ever saw on a spoon of mine! The meat was plentiful and tender, suspended at all depths by rich, mild gravy, and it had a large variety of root vegetables that were each cooked carefully to preserve the individuality. I tasted turnip, sweet potato, butternut squash, and other root vegetables, along with the usual celery, carrots, and onions. I started toying with the idea of offering the chef a job!

  I must have groaned with ecstasy, because the woman gave me a sharp look and lightly slapped me on the arm. Sticking a meaty finger in my face, she warned, “I know that look, exactly like your father’s! So, I’ll tell you the same thing I told him when he was last here -- If someone hires Jimmy away from me and I have to cook, the first stew I make will be out of your family jewels!”

  That hit my funny bone with a ten-pound hammer, and I had to pull my napkin up to my lips, lest I spew food across the table. William roared with laughter. Looking smug, Kitty made a show of hard thinking, while we settled down. Finally, she answered.

  “I only know of two women in these parts you could name a Mid-wife. Martha that retired Pinkerton’s wife or old Mother Celeste. They belong to my church, so I see them quite often. But, neither of them ever talked about caring for anyone this winter.

  Course, it could have been an Indian baby. Those squaws all bear their own at home.”

  “No,” William shook his head, “The doctor was adamant the child was Caucasian.” Kitty looked a little confused and he added, “White. The parents were white.”

  “Oh!” Kitty twittered. “I thought you meant another kind of Indian! Mohegan, Caucasian. Sounded like another tribe.”

  I put my spoon down for a minute. “It may be that it’s both. I mean, what if a girl got in trouble…or a woman got pregnant from another man than her husband. Might she have gone to the Indian woman for help and discretion?”

  Kitty snorted and gave me a look. “Not likely, dearie! Those Mohegans may be poor and down-trodden, but they are far from stupid!”

  Now, besides hatting to be talked down to, the fact is that I have a sister who bore a child out of wedlock, so I knew of the pressures involved. I was about to snap back at her when William spoke first.

  “I’m sad to say, Frohman, that Kitty is right. Even in this ‘age of enlightenment’ we live in, there are those who would cause the local tribe no measure of trouble if they thought the Indians had anything to do with a white woman.”

  Kitty sat back and slapped her hands on her thighs. “I guess that’s about all I can tell you, Mr. Gillette. Your welcome to talk to the women I mentioned- but I think they’ll tell you the same. I’ll keep an ear to the wall for you, but I don’t think you’ll find your answers easily.”

  William nodded his head slowly then tilted it to one side. “What about Susan Wallace, Dr. Blum’s old nurse. She has the medical training and has completely disassociated herself from the doctor. Do you think she might be of some help?”

  Kitty looked uncomfortable, and then shook her head. “I doubt it, Dearie. From what I gather, she’s ‘disassociated’ herself from everything and everyone. I hate to speak ill of anyone, but I think that woman’s gone a bit around the bend.”

  William’s eyebrows drew together, “How so?”

  Kitty leaned forward in anticipation of revealing some significant gossip. “She hasn’t been seen in public since she left the doctor! She’s holed up in her parent’s old house and cut her ties to everyone. Hasn’t been to church service since last fall, hasn’t come to town, and the only ones that laid eyes on her were a few folks sailing past her house. One saw her hanging some laundry and another saw her walking back from the outhouse. Other than that-she’s been a hermit.”

  . I shrugged. “That doesn’t make her mad,” I suggested. “Some people enjoy their solitude.” That last part was a mild dig at my Uncle.

  She just gave me a flat stare. “I’ve known the girl most of her life. I tell you she was off, and it got worse, I think, after her brother left town. This winter, after a bad storm, her closest neighbor and his son trucked over a mile in deep snow to check on her and she wouldn’t even invite them in to warm up a moment! Told them she was fine and to leave her be. Them boys were damn near frozen before they made it back home. No sane person acts that way!”

  I looked to William, who shrugged slightly. “She was always a bit...high strung.”

  Kitty glanced over her shoulder and stood suddenly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help, Mr. Gillette. I’ll send word if I hear of anything.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I think I need to heat up some more stew.”

  She turned and headed towards the foyer, where the Chief Inspector was standing. He was obviously not pleased to see us or perhaps that we had seen him, and William ignored the look and then raised his hand as if he was in a crowded Bistro. “Hullo, Chief Inspector. Join us-please!”

  Rowan looked left then right, but he was trapped. Either he joined us or insulted us. Hat in hand, he shuffled over to our table after talking to Kitty for a second. William stood as he approached and pulled out the chair that Kitty had just vacated, offering it to the Chief Inspector. Rowan sighed and took the seat. He nodded to me and asked, “How’s the stew?”

  “Best I ever had,” I replied.

  “Always is,” he said with a smile. Then he looked to William, “I was surprised to see you here, William. I saw your motorbikes over at Doc’s and I figured you went back to grill him some more.”

  William smiled. “I’m not sure there is too much more the good doctor can expound on, Chief Inspector. We must approach this enigma from another angle. ‘Early days’ as the English say.”

  Before Rowan could reply, Kitty burst back into the room and brought an identical serving of mine to the table, minus the ale. Rowan tucked a napkin into his shirt and began to plow into it. William watched him with a hint of amusement on his face as he polished off the bowl with gusto. Suddenly, Rowan swallowed then put his spoon down and looked up at my Uncle.

  “See here, William,” he spoke with exasperation, “I came here for something to eat, not to be dragged into another discussion about…your problem.”

  William looked shocked, with a tint of righteous anger. “My dear Inspector!” He snapped, “I did not broach the subject! As I just said, it is too early to make any conclusions. I need more data to proceed. Then-and only then- will I ‘drag you into another discussion’!”

  Rowan looked abashed, as he picked his spoon back up. “Sorry, William. I suppose I’m just a little on edge. Let’s talk about something else, shall we?”

  “Of course,” William gave him a regal nod. “Let us see…oh, yes. I introduced Miss Scott to Collin on the ferry today. She and a group of young ladies were returning from a trip to Boston.”

  Rowan snorted. “Right! I heard they were going up to Boston to march for prohibition.” He shook his head. “Women these days! Always looking for another way to make our life harder!”

  ‘Only if you let them!’, I thought to myself. But Rowan was married, and William was practically a monk-so what would they know about women. I kept quiet as I finished my bowl.

  William laughed, “Perhaps, yet she did mention an interesting fact, when she was not mooning over young Frohman here.”

  Rowan raised his eyebrows at me with a smirk, “Best watch yourself, Frohman. That girl is looking to move upwards in life.”

  “Not on this ladder,” I replied as I sopped up the remnants with my last piece of bread. “What ‘fact’ were you talking about?” I asked my Uncle.

  Rowan had gone back to eating, as
William replied. “That the Delaware had streamed into Boston harbor. One does not see the flagship of the Atlantic Fleet so close up very often.”

  “Oh, yeah! She said she was there for a refitting.”

  Rowan shook his head absently, and without looking up, mumbled, “Resupply.”

  “What was that, Chief?” William asked, feigning misunderstanding.

  Rowan swallowed and cleared his mouth, “Resupply- not a refit. She’ll be back on her way in a few days.”

  “Far sooner than that, according to the lovely Miss Scott. Several officials disembarked with a strong box and she was on her way back to the front!”

  Rowan shrugged and purposely went back to his meal, and William gave me a satisfied smirk, and then winked. In a bored tone, he mused, “I wonder…just what is in that box they are shipping by rail to Washington?”

  Not even catching on, Rowan said, “Haven’t the foggiest and I don’t want to know! I…”

  He stopped in mid-sentence and dropped his spoon to clatter off the bowl and onto the tablecloth. Hands curled into fists, he pounded the table hard enough to make the bowl jump and glared at my uncle.

  “Why must you do that?” His face alternated from furious to awe. “Why must you put me in this position?” He was about to explode, but he caught himself and took a deep breath. Heaving a great sigh, he asked, “How in the world did you figure this one out?”

  William shrugged, but I could tell he was delighted with himself. “It is really very rudimentary, Chief Inspector. While in your office earlier, you said you had an important assignment that covered your entire jurisdiction. I couldn’t help but notice the map on your desk or the clear outlines of the railroad tracks. There was a Leigh and New England Railroad company seal on the map, so it was an easy conclusion that you were concentrating on the routes. This implies an important shipment that needed extra security. As we were leaving, I observed the Sargent supervising a squad of men who were going horseback. Horses can go where motorcars are not accessible and the only area of any importance in this county that cannot be reached by automobile-and run the length of your territory, is the train tracks. Thus, someone must fear robbery or sabotage along the way.”