Taken Too Soon

by Edith Maxwell

  The bell hanging from the door jangled as another customer entered.

  “One more quick question.” A thought occurred to me. “Hazel told me she had no siblings, and she lives in a quite large house with her parents. Why does she work at the tag factory if her family is wealthy?”

  She tossed her head and leaned toward me. “I think her da won’t give her spending money. Hazel has a weakness for laudanum and the tonics, she does. She’d spend her entire inheritance on it if she could.”

  Laudanum, the potent mix of brandy and opium that was a favorite of women of a certain class who were eager to escape the prison of their idle lives. Tonics were often also laced with substances like codeine, cocaine, and alcohol. All were readily available for purchase at the druggist.

  “Her mama doesn’t like her associating with us working types, but her father indulges her and lets her earn her pin money,” she murmured, then glanced at the newcomer. “Can I be helping you, Mr. Latting?”

  I turned toward my fellow Quaker as he approached. “Good morning, Abial.”

  “Hello. Rose, wasn’t it? Brigid, I’d like a word with the owner, if thee pleases.”

  “I’m sorry, but he’s out, Mr. Latting.”

  Abial pursed his lips. “This is most unfortunate. I am obliged to raise an unpleasant issue with him. Tell him to contact me at my office at his earliest convenience. Good day, ladies.”

  The screen door whacked shut behind him. Did the market owner owe Abial money? Or was it a personal matter?

  “What was that about, Brigid?” I asked, still staring at the door. Gone was Abial’s solicitous tone in Meeting for Worship. Instead I had witnessed a haughty businessman. Perhaps this was the cause of some of those rumors Huldah had referred to. “Does thee know?”

  “I don’t, ma’am, and I’m glad of it. You don’t want to be getting in that man’s way, Quaker or no Quaker.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Pointing myself back to Baker’s Lane, my feet were heavy thinking about Abial Latting and what Brigid said about him. His behavior in the store had not been at all peaceable. I wanted to learn more about the man on the off chance he had some connection to Frannie’s death. My thoughts harked back to a tragic case in Amesbury over a year ago, in which Hannah Breed, a Quaker mill girl, had been murdered by an unscrupulous person. She had also been pregnant and unmarried. Between Kevin and me, we’d caught the villain, restored the reputation of the first person accused, and uncovered quite a tangle of lies. Would it also be the same with Frannie’s murder?

  A sign on a brick building reading H. Gifford & Co, Attorneys at Law caught my eye. Huldah’s office. I slowed. Should I see if the detective was in and relate to him what Zerviah had said about Frannie’s condition? If I were home I would certainly tell Kevin. And Edwin had asked for my assistance. In I went, and told the tired-looking clerk I was seeking the temporary office of Detective Edwin Merritt. He waved me to a door on his left.

  Inside, a fresh-faced young officer sat behind a desk with nothing on its surface. Another door was at his back.

  “Good morning. My name is Rose Dodge. I would like to speak to Detective Edwin Merritt, if thee pleases.”

  He looked me up and down from my bonnet to my shoes and back. “What’s your business with him, miss?” His tone was one of bantering rather than respect.

  “It’s of a confidential nature regarding the recent death of Frannie Isley.” I had no plans to correct him on my marital status and wasn’t about to start introducing myself as Mrs. David Dodge. I had a perfectly good name that needed no title.

  “Oh, confidential, is it?” He folded his arms and cocked his head as if not believing me. “What’s a Quaker lady like you doing consorting with a sergeant?” He snickered.

  I pulled myself up tall and straight, erasing my friendly smile. “Young man, what I have to relate to Edwin Merritt is confidential, and the detective specifically requested my assistance in the case. I would appreciate thee fetching him with all due haste. He will be well displeased at thy insolence.”

  The boy’s eyes widened and his skin paled under his freckles. “Yes, miss. Right away, miss.” He jumped to his feet and disappeared through the door. A moment later he reappeared, sheepishly following Edwin.

  “You wanted to see me, Mrs. Dodge?” the detective asked.

  The fresh-faced one, a scant twenty if that, turned even whiter at hearing I was married, which, in society’s eyes, brought a certain degree of respectability.

  “I am in possession of a few bits of information in which thee might be interested, Edwin,” I said.

  My rude greeter gaped at my use of the officer’s Christian name.

  “Certainly. Please come back to my office.” To the boy, he added, “As you were, Larkin.”

  Larkin’s relief was tentative at best. He had no idea what I would or would not relate to Edwin about his behavior toward me. Indeed, I planned to speak to the detective of our interchange. A young patrolman should not be treating women with disrespect—not me, not any woman. He was young enough to learn differently, given proper guidance.

  A few moments later I sat across from Edwin. The desk occupying the space between us could have been Kevin’s, with its stacks of papers and maps and scraps of notes everywhere. A tall bookcase held only two reference volumes for officers of the peace next to a stern-faced photograph of Edwin and his wife.

  He must have seen me studying the photograph because he gestured at it. “I kind of hoped to have a passel of children by now, but we’re finally getting our family going, so perhaps one day I shall.” He flipped open his palms as if he didn’t really care. “The medical examiner is due to arrive on the noon train, and I have a number of other pressing issues with which I must deal. Please tell me what you’ve learned.”

  “First, the Wampanoag Indian midwife, Zerviah Baxter, is certain Frannie Isley was carrying a child.” I adjusted my glasses.

  Edwin stilled the pencil he’d been fiddling with. “Do tell.”

  “Zerviah had not performed a physical examination. But there are signs no experienced midwife can miss. Please instruct whomever will be performing the autopsy to confirm Frannie’s condition and to assess how old the fetus was when she was killed.”

  He scribbled furiously on a piece of paper. He glanced up. “How do you know you can trust the word of an Indian?”

  I mentally rolled my eyes. I’d done my fair share of schooling Kevin over the last few years on judgmental attitudes. Apparently I’d have to do it here, too. “Edwin, Zerviah is a human and a woman with a profession, like mine, of caring for pregnant women. She knows of what she speaks. Why would I not trust her simply because she comes from a different geographical region—right here, in fact—than your ancestors or mine?”

  “But some Indians act savagely.”

  “So do some Europeans, where most Americans originated.” I shut my mouth and folded my hands. Rome wasn’t created in a day, as they said, and neither was God’s green earth. I would not change his beliefs in the span of a few minutes.

  “Very well,” he consented. “I will ask him to ascertain the victim’s condition.”

  “If she was, in fact, with child, whoever the father was could have been angry about it. Or someone else displeased with Frannie, an unwed sixteen-year-old, bearing what society terms a bastard child.”

  “This could be the motive for the homicide.” He nodded sagely.

  “An excellent thought.” I smiled to myself, since it had been mine.

  “What else do you have?”

  “When I spoke with Hazel Bowman, she mentioned a Brigid McChesney. I’ve had occasion to speak with the Irish girl twice in the last twenty-four hours. She was quite fond of Frannie. She told me Hazel is addicted to laudanum and that Hazel was quite displeased when Frannie began spending much of her time with the Baxter lad instead of with her.”

  “She, Miss Bowman, was displeased?”

  “Yes. Brigid also mentioned that Hazel likes to b
e in control and always tells her friends what to do. I thought if Hazel had taken too much of the potent drug, perhaps she went mad and found a way to kill her friend.”

  Edwin blinked his mismatched eyes, as if thinking. “The idea is a bit fanciful, but I grant you it’s possible, although I believe it makes the person who consumes the drug passive rather than crazed.” He scribbled some more. Folding his hands on the desk, he shot his gaze to the wall clock, which read five before noon.

  “I believe I’ve told thee all I’ve learned about the case. I thank thee for listening.” I stood.

  He rose, too.

  “I need to say one additional thing.” I cleared my throat. “Please instruct thy employees to treat everyone who enters here with respect. Young Larkin, as thee addressed him, was cavalier and rude to me. He’s an officer of the peace, and his tender years make him still teachable. I do not intend he be punished, but thee could take this opportunity to direct him on appropriate behavior. I might have mentioned to him that you would be most unhappy to hear of the ungentlemanly and unprofessional way he first dealt with me.”

  Edwin smiled for the first time, displaying a set of astonishingly white and well-shaped teeth. “I shall proceed with his education forthwith.” The smile ebbed. “I need to speak with your aunt again, Mrs. Dodge, as soon as I show the medical examiner Miss Isley’s body. I can’t delay my interview with Miss Tilly any longer.”

  “And why can’t thee?”

  Edwin gazed at the desk for a moment, finally focusing on me again. “It seems a witness saw Miss Tilly and another person out on her boat very early in the morning of the day Miss Isley’s remains were found. The wharfmaster reported Miss Tilly returning her boat to its mooring alone.”

  My core stilled and chilled. “Does thee mean . . .” I let my voice trail off. I couldn’t say the words. I covered my mouth with my hand, my brows pressing down on my eyes as I waited for him to utter them.

  “That she might have killed her ward? Yes, Mrs. Dodge.”

  “She would never hurt Frannie!”

  “Nevertheless.” He took a deep breath and exhaled noisily. “We are considering it a possibility.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  I embraced David with arms flung tightly around him when we met back at Tilly and Dru’s at twelve thirty.

  “Whoa, what’s this all about?” he asked once we separated.

  “I have so much to tell thee.”

  “Wait. If I don’t eat a bite, I swear I will faint dead away.” He smiled but his face was strained.

  “Is thee feeling well?”

  “I am hungry, that’s all, and have a bit of a headache.”

  I planted a quick kiss on his cheek, then pulled open the icebox while he pumped us each a glass of cold water at the sink. Several minutes later we sat across the small kitchen table and dined on cheese and bread, the rest of the caviar, and slices of apple.

  “We’ll have a nice meal in Falmouth this evening to make up for one more picnic, I promise you,” he said.

  “I look forward to the prospect.” I munched on a bit of apple. “Look at that picture.” I pointed to a framed photograph atop the pie keep. It showed two girls, one slender and one round, wearing old-fashioned dresses.

  David stood and brought it to the table. “It must be Drusilla and Tilly at around, say, eleven and nine, don’t you think?”

  I took the frame and examined the faces. “I do. Dru, with her big smile and round face, and Tilly has the narrower visage and curly dark hair. Despite Dru being older, Tilly is nearly as tall as her.” Something appeared familiar about Tilly, but I couldn’t place it. If anything, it was Drusilla’s picture that reminded me of a picture of my father as a boy. “Dru is ten years older than Daddy, so he was a baby if he was even born when this was taken.”

  “Now, tell me your stories. They don’t include delivering a baby since I last saw you, I trust.”

  I laughed softly. “No, thank goodness.” Between mouthfuls, I filled him in on my morning. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was. “The part about my aunt being seen on the water with someone else in her boat and returning alone worries me.”

  “The detective can’t in all seriousness believe Miss Tilly killed her ward, can he?” he asked.

  “I’m afraid he’s considering the scenario as one of the possibilities. I’ve had a little time to think about it.” I sipped my water. “Tilly has always been stern and judgmental. Aunt Dru hinted at some mystery when she said only Tilly should tell me about the circumstances of her taking in Frannie.” I frowned and tapped the table as I thought.

  “A kiss for your thoughts,” David murmured.

  I shook off my reverie to present my face for the promised item. Once bestowed, I went on. “I am spinning a tale from my imagination, of course, but what if Tilly had become impregnated long ago by someone who did not stand by her. Perhaps she gave up a child for adoption and the child was one of Frannie’s parents?”

  My husband tilted his head. “A bit far-fetched but not impossible in the least. Do go on, wife.”

  “Tilly might have been furious with Frannie about letting herself get in the same condition, and they could have argued. I cannot for a moment believe my aunt would purposely kill the girl. But if some kind of accident happened? Tilly’s grief right now could be from causing the death of not only the girl she adored but a girl who was her own granddaughter.”

  “Most certainly. You told me Frannie was orphaned when both of her parents died, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “If your imaginings are correct, Tilly could have been keeping track of her child all along.” David drummed his fingers on the table. “Have Tilly and Dru always lived here in West Falmouth?”

  “They grew up in Lawrence with my father, of course,” I said. “I think it was when my grandmother was failing that her sister passed away and left her nieces this house in her will. My great-aunt had married a man from West Falmouth, a boat builder, who predeceased her. They never had children.”

  “If Tilly bore a child in this area, the birth would have to have been registered with the county. I could check around, if you’d like.”

  I squeezed his hand. “Asking would be a help, my dear. But she might well have gone away for the last months to hide her condition, even back to Lawrence. I sent a telegraph to Daddy asking how Tilly came to take in a ward. Perhaps he’ll know the answer, and more. Or all our conjecturing could be sheer fantasy, and Tilly was simply being charitable.”

  “Indeed, although I wonder about Frannie’s parents. They must have had parents and sisters. Why wouldn’t one of them have taken in the girl when her parents died?”

  “Thee has brought up another mystery, my dear. I’ll try to remember to ask my aunts. Going back to Edwin’s suspicions, if Tilly had learned Frannie was pregnant, she might have been beyond angry with the girl. Except . . . now that I think about it, if they argued and somehow Frannie hit her head and fell overboard, surely Tilly would have gotten her back into the boat and brought her to shore.”

  “Maybe the man who impregnated her was the angry one.” David raised a finger. “Whether Reuben or someone else, he might have been unhappy at becoming a father. Or the girl might have been demanding marriage, and he was having none of it. It doesn’t explain what someone claimed they saw regarding Tilly and the boat. On the other hand, this so-called witness could be the guilty party and be lying.”

  I stared at him. “Good heavens, of course. I should have thought of that.”

  He threw his head back and laughed, but then winced.

  “What’s wrong, darling husband?”

  “I thought getting some food into me would fix my head.” He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. “It didn’t,” he murmured.

  The outer door opened and banged against the wall as a flushed-cheek Aunt Drusilla bustled in. Her bonnet sat askew and she dabbed at sweat on her neck with a dainty embroidered handkerchief. David’s eyes flew open as he straightened
.

  “Aunt Dru,” I said. “We were finishing up a spot of lunch. Please sit and eat.”

  “Oh, no, I can’t possibly.” She shook her head fast, which only made her loose bonnet slide to an even crazier angle. “Rose, thee must come, and quickly.”

  I stood in a flash. “What’s happened? Is Tilly all right?”

  “Yes, but the detective wants to interrogate her. He’s very serious and won’t take no for an answer.” She stood rubbing her fingers against her thumbs as if it was the only action available to her.

  I’d never seen her so flustered. I glanced at David, then back at Dru.

  Dru grabbed my hand. “She says she won’t say a word unless thee is at her side.”

  “Well, then, I’m on my way. David?”

  He gave me a single nod. “Yes, you are. I plan to lie down with my eyes closed until this blasted head returns to normal.” He blew me a kiss.

  “A cold compress on thy brow might help, too.” I hurried to the sink to rinse my hands, then grabbed my bonnet and my reticule with the tin of candy. “Aunt, shall we?”

  Chapter Seventeen

  After Dru and I arrived, she hovered nervously until Edwin asked her to leave him alone with Tilly and me. Sadie persuaded Dru to go out to the garden at the back.

  “Miss Carroll, please let me begin by offering my sincere condolences,” Edwin said.

  “I thank thee.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

  “I must warn you, Mrs. Dodge, to keep your silence.” The detective gave me a stern look.

  “I shall remain mum,” I said from my seat next to Tilly in the same parlor where I’d talked with Zerviah yesterday. Tilly reached for my hand. I gave hers a light squeeze.

  “I am ready,” she said, her spine straight, her voice firm.

  “Miss Carroll, when did you last take your fishing boat out?”

  The slightest tremor passed through my aunt. I wouldn’t have noticed if I hadn’t been holding her hand in mine.