Taken Too Soon

by Edith Maxwell

  I bobbed my head. “Still early enough for a girl to be able to hide her condition from all but a midwife’s knowing eyes. Thee had mentioned a laceration on her head. Was she already deceased when she drowned, or did drowning cause her death?”

  “The medical examiner believes cause of death was drowning.”

  “So she might have been unconscious from the blow.” I prayed she had been. Drowning was a terrifying way to die, I’d heard. “Where on her head was the laceration?”

  He touched the back of his head. “A little bit down from the crown. Her skull had been hit crosswise.”

  I drummed my fingers for a moment, thinking. “Doesn’t this seem like an odd finding? If you were to hit someone on the back of the head, it would be a downward blow, wouldn’t it?” I raised my hands over my head as if holding a heavy object.

  Edwin laughed. “Now the Quaker lady is practicing assault?”

  “I’m serious, Edwin. If she hit her head horizontally, it could have been on the gunwale of a boat, couldn’t it?”

  “It could. But she could have been struck laterally, too. Think of how a bat is used in the game of baseball.” He pushed aside the report. “Now, Mrs. Dodge. I have heard a rumor. I don’t like to indulge in idle gossip, but when an item comes to my attention which might be pertinent to a case, I must needs follow up on it. What do you know about Miss Isley being a blood relative of your aunt? I mean, of Miss Tilly?”

  Perhaps Tilly and Frannie’s relationship wasn’t as secret as Tilly believed. “Who did thee hear this from?”

  “It doesn’t matter. Is it a fact?”

  “I learned only yesterday it is true, a result of Tilly’s having been the victim of an unscrupulous man when she was about the age I am now.”

  “She bore a bastard child and gave it up for adoption,” he said softly.

  “Yes. But she was able to follow her daughter’s upbringing from a distance. When the daughter and her husband died, leaving two-year-old Frannie, Tilly took her in.”

  “This is likely irrelevant, but do you know why she didn’t adopt the girl?”

  “No.” Had I even asked Aunt Tilly? “She didn’t offer the information, and I’ve not asked.”

  “Do you have anything else for me?” Edwin glanced at the clock.

  “Actually, I might. I stopped in yesterday but thee wasn’t about.” I hated to have to tell him about Currie, but I had to. “My husband’s brother, Currie Dodge, is currently residing in Wood’s Holl, or so he told us. He apparently works for the burlesque theater in Falmouth, and, among other responsibilities, he recruits young woman to perform in the variety shows they put on.”

  The eyebrow over Edwin’s green eye went up. “You don’t say.”

  “I do. I am unhappy at having to relay this, but he might be a possibility for the father of Frannie’s child. He’s quite the charmer. David and I saw him in action at the aquarium in Wood’s Holl yesterday. He was trying to worm his way into the affections of a pretty young lady who works there.”

  Edwin didn’t quite rub his hands together, but his eyes sparkled. “And ‘the plot thickens,’ as George Villiers wrote.”

  “Who was he?” I tilted my head.

  “The author of a play called The Rehearsal from late-seventeenth-century England.”

  “My, thee is quite well read, Detective.”

  “Does this surprise you?” He sat back in his chair.

  “I might have ascribed the phrase to Arthur Conan Doyle, instead. I’m glad to know its origins. And that the Barnstable County Sheriff’s Office hires well-educated detectives.” I smiled as I stood. “I can’t think of any other avenues for thee to pursue at the moment, but I shall return should something else occur to me.”

  He rose, as well. “Please feel free to leave a message for me if I’m not in.”

  We said our goodbyes. I retrieved my cloak and made my way down the steps, the rain having reduced itself to a light drizzle. My feet slowed as my inner small voice told me I’d forgotten to convey some critical piece of information. But what?

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  “Miss Carroll?” Brigid hailed me as I walked past the market on my way to Sadie’s. She stood in the doorway with an envelope in her hand.

  In those few minutes since I’d left Edwin, the precipitation had completely ceased to fall. I pushed back the cloak’s hood and let it flap open.

  “Yes, Brigid?” I looked both ways and crossed the road ahead of a spirited team of stallions pulling a large closed carriage.

  “A Special Delivery letter for you came in earlier. I spied you through the screen.” She handed me the missive.

  “I thank thee.” Could I bear any more bad news this morning? Whether I could or not, I needed to read the contents. I opened the envelope and blew out a breath. It was from Daddy, and the only news was what I had learned from Tilly yesterday about Frannie’s origins. He ended the message by writing, Shall I come to West Falmouth?

  The idea stopped me. My husband was gone. Did I want my father here as support? Or maybe he meant to provide solace to his sister. I flapped the paper in my hand. I needed to send a reply.

  “I hope it’s not after being bad news.” Brigid clasped her hands and looked worried.

  “No, no. Please don’t concern thyself. But I do need to send a note in return. Can thee sell me a single sheet of paper and an envelope?”

  “Of course. Come with me.”

  “Wait a moment,” I said. “I heard something troubling this morning, and I wondered if thee had witnessed it, too.”

  “If I can help you, ma’am, I’d be honored.”

  In the moment, I decided not to tell her Hazel was my informant. “When I was here two days ago, Abial Latting came by the market. Does thee remember?”

  “That man is hard to forget, he is.”

  “At the time thee mentioned one wouldn’t want to get in his way, correct?”

  “By the blessed Mary, yes. It’s a fact, Mrs. Dodge.” She nodded vigorously.

  “Did thee ever see him, ah, dallying with Frannie around town? Possibly in a clandestine manner?”

  She squinted at me. “I’m not knowing this word, dallying.”

  “I mean, he might have acted overly affectionate toward Frannie, a young unmarried girl.”

  “Oh, ho. So dallying means trying to, you know, get into her knickers, does it? Hoping to get her alone so he can shag her?”

  Shag must connote the sexual act. I hemmed and hawed for a moment. “Dally doesn’t signify exactly that, but yes, that’s what I meant.”

  “Sure, and I saw them more than once. Out behind the Quaker carriage sheds one time, and down beyond the wharf building. But he wasn’t the only gent hoping to get too close to Frannie.”

  “Oh?”

  “There was that other lad. No, he’s too old to be a lad, and a slick chap, he is. Looked for all the world like he thought he was in London town instead of this sleepy fishing village.” She snapped her fingers. “Oh, that’s right. I mentioned him to you, the one looking for the girls.”

  Currie.

  “Once he came into the market and tried to get a little too friendly with me. Mr. Boyce, he didn’t like that. He sent me back to the storeroom, and I heard him give the gentleman what for. The chap didn’t come back, then, did he?”

  I was glad Gilbert Boyce hadn’t blamed Brigid for Currie’s behavior, as sometimes happened. I followed her inside. Maybe the shopkeeper could verify the man had been Currie.

  “Is Gilbert in?” I asked Brigid.

  “No, he’s off at the bank. Let me get you those letter supplies.”

  I paid her and made my way over to the postmaster. What should I tell my father? Come or not come? I stared at the piece of paper. I made up my mind and picked up the pencil.

  Thee would be welcome here, Daddy. Love, Rose

  Chapter Thirty

  I arrived at Sadie’s at a little after noon to find the ladies—including Marie—sitting around the dining table
eating chicken salad sandwiches.

  “Come and eat, Rose,” Sadie urged me. “Take a plate from the sideboard there and sit with us.”

  “I thank thee.” My breakfast of a poached egg on toast had been hours ago. “How fares thy mother, Marie?”

  “She is a shadow of herself and spends a great deal of time sleeping, I’m afraid, but I thank you for inquiring.” Her smile was a sad one. “My sister has arrived to help me take care of her.”

  “I am glad thee has assistance and solace,” I said.

  “Where is thy husband?” Drusilla asked me.

  “He had to return home in a hurry,” I replied. “He received a telegram early this morning saying his mother Clarinda had taken gravely ill.”

  Sadie placed her hand on her heart. “My goodness. Shall we pray for her?”

  Marie drew out a rosary and began fingering the beads, praying silently. We Quakers closed our eyes and also prayed without speaking. I held David’s mother in God’s Light, that she might heal quickly and easily. I’d also held Clarinda in the Light for some minutes this morning after David had departed. I opened my eyes when I heard the rustling of movement and a clink of silverware.

  “Here, Rose.” Sadie passed me the plate of sandwiches.

  “I thank thee.” I helped myself and took a bite. “My, this is good,” I told my hostess. “Thy mayonnaise is extra creamy, and the bits of celery add a nice crunch.”

  She smiled. “What has thee been up to today?”

  I gazed around at the curious faces of these womenfolk. What a blessing their company was. “One thing I did this morning was stop by the tag factory. It’s an interesting industry.”

  “Indeed,” Dru said. “Annie Boyce is quite the businesswoman.”

  “Was the call part of thy investigation?” Sadie asked me.

  “Possibly.”

  “That Hazel girl works there,” Dru said. “She’s a shifty one.”

  Shifty? “What does thee mean, Aunt Dru?”

  “She’s like a spider,” Dru said. “Excellent at spinning stories and webs.”

  “My sister means the girl is a habitual liar.” Tilly’s voice was so subdued as to be barely audible. She’d only nibbled at the edges of her sandwich. “She has fibbed to our faces about losing library books.”

  Dru nodded her head so energetically her hairpins nearly flew out. “Yes, while we know full well she set the novels on her bookshelf and never gave a thought to returning them.”

  I was pretty sure Hazel had lied to me when she’d said Brigid might have done Frannie harm. What other untruths was she telling? And if she was constantly on laudanum, as Brigid had claimed, would she even realize she was lying?

  Tilly turned her plate clockwise a quarter turn but didn’t eat.

  I peered at her. “Aunt Tilly, is thee all right?”

  She lifted her face, her eyes as haunted as they’d been on First Day. “We need to bury our girl, Rose. They only now told me I could have her back.”

  My throat thickened. Interring a granddaughter wasn’t the way life was supposed to go. The younger generation should be tending to their elders’ deaths, not the reverse. Tilly had already lost her daughter and wouldn’t have been able to mourn for her in public.

  “I’m helping arrange the Memorial Meeting for Worship for Sixth Day,” Sadie said. “But the grave will be dug later this afternoon. We’ll gather at sunset to bid Frannie farewell.”

  Marie frowned. “Aren’t you doing things in reverse? Don’t you usually have the funeral and then the burial?”

  “No,” I began. “As we don’t believe in embalming, we need to bury the . . .” I caught myself before saying “body,” which would be too harsh a word for Tilly to hear. “To bury the deceased as soon as possible. And the Memorial Meeting is much like our regular Meeting for Worship, except it focuses on the person who has gone on ahead. Typically a coffin is not present.”

  “I see,” Marie murmured. “It’s a different way of proceeding than I’m accustomed to, but I suppose it doesn’t really matter.”

  I opened my mouth to ask Marie how her talk with Edwin had gone when she went to tell him about the splash. I shut it again. We didn’t need to bring up the topic during a meal in front of Tilly. She was in enough pain as it was.

  “Thy interlude with David has been interrupted, Rose,” Sadie said. “Will thee return to Amesbury soon, as well?”

  “I’m not sure. I offered to go with him to provide wifely support, but he wanted me to stay here and continue my investigations. And now, with Frannie’s Memorial Meeting on Sixth Day, I certainly won’t leave before that happens.”

  “Good,” Dru said. “Thee is a comfort to us here.”

  “My father asked if he should make his way to West Falmouth. I sent him a reply he would be welcome, and that was before I knew about the service.”

  Dru batted a hand. “I mailed him a note not an hour ago, too. We received a lovely letter of condolence from him this morning, in which he asked if we’d appreciate his presence.”

  “Rose, rest assured I’ll continue to watch over these ladies here at the house, and thy father, too, whenever he arrives,” Sadie said. “Thee doesn’t need to worry about them. Concentrate instead on discovering the truth. But do know thee is always welcome to sup with us.”

  “I appreciate the offer, Sadie, and I thank thee for the repast.” What a jewel Sadie was. I patted my mouth with the napkin. “Now I need to go to Falmouth to find David’s brother. My husband commissioned me to let Currie know their mother is ill.” I surveyed the caring faces around the table. “Currie and his mother had been estranged until immediately after David and I married last Seventh Day, when Currie appeared at our reception. David had urged him to stay in Newburyport and mend fences, but we saw him in Falmouth on Second Day. He didn’t remain long with his parents.”

  “And Mr. Dodge isn’t sure his brother will go to their mother?” Marie asked.

  “Precisely,” I said. “I’m to do my best to convince him.”

  “Every family has its black sheep as well as skeletons in the closet.” Dru shook her head but sneaked a glance at her sister. Tilly didn’t seem to notice.

  “Sadie, does thee have the train timetable at hand?” I asked.

  “Why don’t I drive thee in my carriage?” Sadie asked. “The rain has stopped, and having a conveyance will make it easier and faster to search for the man.”

  “It certainly will,” I said. “I thank thee, Sadie.”

  “Our Miss Brooks could use an outing, too,” she added.

  “Miss Brooks?” I asked. “Who’s that?”

  Dru chortled. “She’s Sadie’s mare. Has thee heard of a sillier name for a horse?”

  Sadie rolled her eyes with a fond expression on her face. “Miss Mary Brooks was Huldah’s nursemaid when he was young. He wasn’t raised as a Friend, you see, but enthusiastically became convinced in our faith before we married.”

  I only smiled. Miss Brooks was a silly name, but not so different from Peaches, the dun-colored gelding David had insisted I use last winter, along with a loaned buggy.

  “I’ll come along for the ride, if I may, now that my sister is here to spell me,” Marie said. She stood and began to collect the dishes.

  “Of course,” Sadie said. “Our wagon buggy seats four comfortably, and I love to drive. Dru, will thee join us?”

  “No, I’m back to the library for the afternoon,” Dru said.

  “Very well. I’ll have my boy ready the horse now.” Sadie bustled away.

  I went around to Tilly and laid my hand on her bony shoulder. “We’ll be back well before the burial, Aunt Tilly. Why doesn’t thee rest for the afternoon? It’s likely to be a difficult evening for thee.”

  “I believe I shall, Rose. No period in my life has been harder to bear than the events of this week.”

  Chapter Thirty-one

  We three ladies clopped along on the route south to Falmouth, with Sadie in the driver’s seat of her Rock
away wagon buggy. The dark blue vehicle had a roof but open sides and was trimmed with a wide stripe of light blue edged in gold. It had been manufactured in Amesbury, a fact about which I—someone with no direct connection to my town’s internationally famous carriage industry—felt unreasonably proud.

  Sadie sat tall and appeared to be a competent horsewoman. I held on to the side of the carriage with one hand and my bonnet with the other so as not to lose it. The wind that had blown the rain clouds away now gusted briskly enough for a record-breaking sailboat race, or so it felt to me. Marie had insisted on sitting in back.

  “Where to first, Rose?” Sadie asked.

  “I suppose the theater in Falmouth, since I don’t know where Currie’s abode is.” When we drove through a sheltered spot, I ran a finger over the fine blue broadcloth upholstery. “He told David and me he works for the theater.”

  Sadie glanced over at me, raising a genteel eyebrow. “The Falmouth Opera House or the rather disreputable one presenting the burlesque shows?”

  “I’m afraid it’s the latter.” I pulled my mouth to the side. “As distasteful as it sounds.”

  Marie leaned forward. “My cousin danced in some of those shows up in Lowell. Certainly the ladies are scandalously clad, but the entertainment can be quite amusing. It’s not all distasteful, Mrs. Dodge, and it is at times quite intelligent.”

  “Marie, please call me Rose. I insist.”

  She laughed. “Very well. But I meant what I said. This fellow you’re searching for shouldn’t automatically be assigned a place in hell simply because he’s employed by a burlesque show.”

  I twisted to look at her. I thought of myself as a forward-looking person, but in this case perhaps I’d been too quick to judge burlesque as low and worthless entertainment. “I think thee is correct, Marie.” Still, simply working for the show might not have been all Currie had been up to.

  “I know the owner of the Opera House,” Sadie said. “He might be acquainted with the people who run the other theater. We can pay him a call.”

  “I like the way thee thinks, Sadie,” I said. I contented myself for the next twenty bumpy minutes with holding on and watching the scenery pass.