“Please pass along the message to him for me.” I was glad I hadn’t seen him tipsy even once since our initial meeting. Perhaps he’d been so nervous about seeing his mother again he had overindulged.
“I will gladly do so.”
“This is my destination, the temporary office of the sheriff’s detective.” I gestured at the clapboarded building.
He looked in that direction. “The sheriff’s detective?” His voice rose. “What business have you with him? Should a proper married woman even be talking with such a person?”
“Currie, I have called on more than one police detective in his office and come away with my reputation intact. It’s simply a place of business no different than a haberdasher or a mercantile.” This stretched the truth a bit, as the police were a public agency dealing with crime of all sorts, not a store selling wares. I expected he’d learned this attitude about the police from his mother, who wasn’t at all pleased with my investigative activities.
“Does my brother know this?” He scowled.
“Of course he does. David respects his wife’s mind and choices. He does not stand in my way.” Currie had much to learn about me, it seemed.
“Well, I never.” He gave his head a little shake. “Good day, Mrs. Dodge.”
I watched him stride away, barely swerving to avoid a round old woman trudging with a heavy market basket. My brother-in-law was nervous about something, perhaps more than one something. The question was, what?
Chapter Forty-four
I finished outlining what I had seen and heard and sat back in my chair across from Edwin. “Was evidence on the dory the lead thee mentioned this morning? Traces of blood, perhaps?”
He tented his fingers. “No, Mrs. Dodge, it wasn’t. You say Miss Bowman is out in her dory now?”
“I don’t know if she has returned or not. She rowed away with her friend at about two o’clock.”
Edwin pulled out a pocket watch. “And it’s nearly half past three now. I’ll get a man down there.”
I thought for a moment. “It’s a pity Effie Bugos doesn’t have better vision.”
“It is that and more.”
“Has thee discounted the idea of Frannie dying alone from an accidental fall in a boat? She could have hit her head on the edge and fallen in.”
“Boats are not so wide to allow the type of contusion she had. I can imagine her unbalancing and falling, but she would have hit her back or her torso, not the back of the head.”
“I suppose so.” So much for that idea.
Larkin stuck his head in the doorway. “You’ve got your meeting with the sheriff, sir.”
Edwin thanked him and stood, then asked me, “Do you have anything else about the case?”
I rose, too. “Only that Effie mentioned Abial Latting’s habit of diddling girls, as she put it.” Pronouncing the word made me blush. “I know he is a prominent businessman in the community, but I think his activities bear looking into.”
“And I shall.” He whistled. “It won’t be pretty, though.”
Neither is what Abial has been up to. At least Edwin had heard me out about Hazel and the dory. I was grateful to have encountered a detective who listened with respect to my ideas about the case. Kevin’s advice to him could be the reason. Many police officers would automatically discredit the word of a woman not yet thirty and refuse to give her opinions a second thought. Like young Larkin earlier this week, whom Edwin had set straight. Law enforcement departments rarely employed women, and when they did the matron’s job was confined to care of women in the lockup. I could only imagine the day when uniformed men and women would serve side by side without prejudice or sex-restricted roles. I hoped one day to have the chance to meet one of the famous Pinkerton girls, who did valuable undercover investigative work for the agency. Some might call them infamous, but, oh, the stories we could share.
Once down the stairs, I aimed myself at the market. I hoped to have a missive from David. Who knew, maybe I could convince Brigid to talk more about Hazel or even Abial, if she were at work. I went in. A shelf of hurricane lamps near the door smelled of kerosene, but farther in a bin of unground wheat gave off an earthy, somewhat sweet scent.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Dodge,” Brigid called from behind the counter.
I waved in return. I wanted to speak with her but headed first for the post office counter. “Does thee have anything for Rose Dodge?”
The clerk wordlessly handed over an envelope addressed to me with David’s and my new address as return. The envelope bore a blue Special Delivery stamp bearing the words, “Special Postal Delivery. Secures Immediate Delivery at Any Post Office.” It featured a picture of a postman running, letter in hand, and cost ten cents.
I slid open the flap of the envelope from my husband. The note, dated this morning at seven o’clock, wasn’t a long one.
Dearest Rose,
I write to tell you Mother’s health is out of the woods. Her condition has stabilized. She is clear of mind, is sitting up and taking soft nourishment, and breathes with ease. I still hear some disturbance when I listen to her heart, but for the moment her life is not threatened.
I’m very sorry not to be there with you and trust you are well and staying safe. Please let me know when you plan to return to my welcoming arms.
With undying love,
Your adoring husband
I smiled to read his affectionate words. Our letters had crossed in the mail. I found it remarkable his had traveled all this distance in a matter of hours. Special Delivery mail must come down on the Flying Dude. Tomorrow David should receive news of my planned return on Seventh Day. I read the letter over again. Clarinda’s health had improved remarkably fast, making me wonder if Currie’s claim she’d conjured her collapse was true, or perhaps she’d made a slight illness sound like a dire one. Oh, well. There was nothing any of us could do about Clarinda being Clarinda.
I made my way over to Brigid and waited while she sold a man a coil of thin wire and a sharpening stone. I scolded myself for not returning the egg container. The milk bottle, which I also owed the store, was still half full. I’d bring them both back tomorrow or before I left on Seventh Day.
“Hello, Brigid.” I spied a rack holding rounds of bread behind her and inhaled their alluring aroma. “Are those loaves freshly baked?”
“Yes, they are. A local lady makes them. She usually delivers them in the morning but she was delayed today.”
“I’d like one, please, and a wedge of cheddar cheese.” I decided on the spot to dine alone at home and the larder was pretty bare by now. “Does thee have cured ham, as well?”
“Of course. A quarter pound of each?”
“Please.” Ham, cheese, bread, and a sliced tomato would make a perfectly satisfactory supper, if a simple one. I never minded simple.
Brigid turned her back and busied herself cutting and wrapping my purchases. I glanced around but no one was nearby.
“I saw Hazel go out on a boat with another girl an hour or so ago,” I began in a low voice. “I think thee told me she was mad when Frannie started keeping company with Reuben Baxter. Does thee think her anger might have stemmed from jealousy?”
She faced me again, setting the paper-wrapped meat and cheese on the counter. “I know it did. Miss Bowman wanted Frannie to herself and that’s a fact.” She cast her eyes upward with a toss of her head. “I can’t fathom it myself, but I’m not after judging others. Live and let live, that’s the way to go.”
I smiled at her tolerance.
“Well, except for . . .” Her voice trailed off as she also surveyed the store. She leaned closer to me. “Except for Mr. Latting. He was in here trying to get a bit too friendly with me again, he was, trying to lure me out from behind the counter. I wasn’t having it, Mrs. Dodge.” She slapped the counter, her eyes ablaze. “No, I was not.”
“I’m glad thee has not fallen prey to his advances.” Speaking of making advances to girls, Currie’s faced flashed in my mind. “
Was a man in here a little while ago posting handbills? I think thee mentioned thee had seen him before, the slick fellow who was also overly friendly to thee.”
“Oh, that gent. Yes, he was. He didn’t pay me any mind this time, for which I was glad. He posted his notice out by the door and hurried off as if a banshee was at his heels.”
“Did you ever see him with Frannie?”
“I don’t think so, even though she told me she’d been going down to Falmouth town.” She cocked her head and frowned. “Are you after thinking he killed the poor lass, then?”
“Not at all.” I prayed he hadn’t. “I’m simply assisting the detective on the case by asking a few questions here and there.” Not that it was a simple task by any means, and possibly not a safe one.
“I see.” She looked like she didn’t quite believe me. “No, I would remember if I’d seen the gent with Frannie.”
Gilbert Boyce bustled in from the back and looked from me to Brigid. “Afternoon, Mrs. Dodge. Has Brigid been finding you what you’re looking for?” His tone indicated he might have overheard us talking about much more than my supper makings.
“Yes, Gilbert.” I smiled to myself. In fact, she’d helped me find one piece of the puzzle. Maybe.
Chapter Forty-five
As I left the store with my bundles, I supposed I should get my supper makings home and in a cool spot. Only a little ice remained in the ice box, but I’d forgotten to ask Dru when the ice man came. Still, the weather was cooling with the shorter days and turn of the seasons. Cheese and cured ham should keep fine without having to be overchilled.
What I wanted to do was dig deeper into where Abial had been the night and morning of Frannie’s demise. I couldn’t quite picture the wealthy businessman rowing Frannie to her death, though. It didn’t seem like something he would do.
I yawned. My lack of sleep from attending the birth last night was catching up to me. But instead of heading for my aunts’ house, my feet steered me toward Zerviah’s cottage. I felt drawn to her calm presence, so much like Orpah’s. I could ask about the newborn. Perhaps I could also chat with her a bit about these thoughts roiling in my brain like a storm-disturbed surf, thoughts which had been equally turbulent the last time I’d called on the Indian midwife.
As I approached the Latting mansion, the front door burst open. Abial rushed out, barely closing it behind him. He clapped his hat on his head and trotted down the steps, his long coat flying out behind him. He stopped short when he saw me.
“Good afternoon, Abial.” I smiled. “It looks like thee is in a hurry.”
He smiled, patting his robust midsection, but his puffy eyes narrowed for the flash of a second. “Ah, hello, Rose. Where I’m off to isn’t anything that can’t wait. I suppose thee is up to thy detecting?”
How did he know about that? “No. I’m actually paying a call on Zerviah. I attended a birth with her last night and want to ask how the infant fares. Thee must know the first few days can be perilous to one so freshly of this world.”
“Precisely so.” Now he sounded relieved. “I raised puppies when I was a lad. The same applied to them.”
Puppies? He must have a tender side to him I hadn’t yet glimpsed. “Did thee sell the dogs?”
“Oh, yes. Mother and I had quite a breeding business. Irish setters. We belonged to the American Kennel Club, of course.” His voice was wistful.
“Of course.”
“After she passed on, my father wouldn’t allow me to continue.” He cleared his throat.
While I had his attention, I decided a quick question couldn’t hurt. “It seems everyone in the village enjoys a spot of fishing. Does thee also take a boat out on the water from time to time?” I kept my tone mild.
He stared at me and waited a beat before speaking. “Me? Go fishing? Never. It’s a disgusting pastime and a worse occupation. Catching a live being with a hook through its mouth?” He shuddered. “I never go near fish or any seafood. Hateful substance. Give me a nice joint of beef or a crisp roast chicken any day, with potatoes aplenty on the side. Now I must be off. Good day.” He hurried down the road toward town.
My, my. Such a vehement reaction. Could it mean he protested too much, as Shakespeare had written of? I wondered. It would be hard to avoid eating seafood in a coastal town like this one. Shaking off my thoughts, I continued on to the Baxter cottage behind the big house. Hearing voices from the garden, I made my way around to the back.
Reuben sat on one of the stumps under the arbor with a bucket of water between his knees, scrubbing clams with a small stiff brush. His father stood with his back to me, fists on hips, glowering at his youngest.
“You have to,” Joseph demanded. “I order it.”
“And if I refuse?” Reuben spat out the words and glared back up at him, but closed his mouth when he saw me. He gestured with his head to Joseph, who whirled.
“Greetings, Reuben, Joseph,” I said. “I don’t mean to intrude, but I wanted to speak with Zerviah.”
Joseph struggled to compose his face. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Dodge. My wife is not here.”
“I see. I’m sorry to bother thee, then.”
“It’s no bother. I think she’ll return soon. Please sit. May I offer you a drink of water?” Joseph asked.
My fatigue and the exertion of my perambulations hit me suddenly. “I should love some water. I thank thee.” I lowered myself onto the other stump.
Joseph hurried into the house.
“Hello, Reuben.” I sniffed the air. Grapes were ripening somewhere nearby, their winey fragrance scenting the breeze.
“Mrs. Dodge.” Reuben kept his gaze on his work.
His father returned, handing me a tin cup full of cold water. “I’m afraid I’m late for an, ah, appointment, and must go, Mrs. Dodge.”
“It’s not a problem,” I said. “I thank thee for the water.”
“Reuben will gladly provide you with more refreshment, should you wish, while you wait.” He stared pointedly at his son, waiting for his response.
“Yes, Noeshow,” the boy mumbled, but he didn’t look up. “I will.”
“We will continue our conversation tonight, son. Good day, Mrs. Dodge.” Joseph settled a derby on his head and hurried out of sight, maybe off to join Abial, wherever he’d rushed to a few minutes ago.
After a moment, I asked, “Thee dug these clams today, Reuben?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m to deliver them to Falmouth, where they’ll be served in a restaurant. They don’t like to receive them dirty.”
“Has thee heard of our service for Frannie tomorrow afternoon at the Friends Meetinghouse? I hope thee will attend.”
He looked me in the face, his eyes full of sorrow. “Miss Tilly won’t want me there, I know it.”
“I expect thee is right,” I said. “But it’s a public service. Thee could sit in the back and bother no one. Frannie would want thee to share in remembering her.” Did he know Frannie had been pregnant? If the baby was his, he could be doubly mourning his loss.
“I’ll think about it.” Reuben returned his attention to his task.
“Did thee ever find thy cap?” It occurred to me in a flash he might have lost it when Frannie went missing. Was there any way to find out?
“My cap?” He squinted at me. “I remember. You were here talking with my mother when I asked her about it. Alas, no. It hasn’t turned up.”
I sipped my drink, which went down cool and wet. Had water ever tasted so good? Finally I spoke.
“Does thee know Hazel Bowman?”
He spat in the dirt on the far side of his bucket. “I’ve had the misfortune of meeting her, yes, ma’am.”
“I understand she and Frannie were friends.”
“Miss Bowman does not know how to be friends with anyone. She preys on girls and twists the words of anyone who tries to stop her. She’s as bad as . . .” His voice trailed off as his gaze strayed in the direction of the mansion at the front of the property.
As Abial Lattin
g? I waited for the boy to go on.
Reuben resumed his scrubbing, this time with rather more force than was necessary. A bird of prey, perhaps a falcon, alit on a branch in the pine tree to our side. A snake writhed in its talons, but it was no match for its captor. I watched, both fascinated and horrified, as the attacker proceeded to hold the reptile with one foot while pecking at its skin with a sharp curved beak. The snake, its life extinguished, ceased its struggles. I cleared my throat.
“All I can say is, Hazel Bowman thinks she can twist life to suit herself,” Reuben continued. “She hated me for wooing Frannie. In Hazel’s mind, I robbed her of someone she thought she could control. But Frannie told me she had tired of Hazel’s vindictive ways.” He stood, stretching his back. “I do believe she was the one who claimed to the police I killed my Frannie. Me!” His voice broke during the exclamation and he turned away until he composed himself. He faced me again. “It’s a complete falsehood. An outright lie. For all I know, Hazel Bowman killed my girl herself, just so I couldn’t have her. I ask you, Mrs. Dodge. What kind of a friend is that?”
Chapter Forty-six
I never did get to speak with Zerviah during my visit. Reuben had to leave with his bundles of clams tucked into the bags on the back of his bicycle. He’d said I was welcome to wait for his mother, but I opted not to, instead making my way to my temporary home. Reuben’s idea that Hazel had killed Frannie wouldn’t get out of my brain. He and Frannie must have been stepping out for some months. Why would Hazel choose this moment to get rid of her former friend? It didn’t make sense to me.
As I walked, I almost popped in to speak with Effie again but decided against it. I very much needed to rest up for tomorrow, which surely would be emotionally difficult. I felt bad I had neglected my aunts, especially Tilly.
After I dropped my parcels in the kitchen, I washed my face and hands and unpinned my hair. I hummed to myself as I sliced two pieces of bread and spread them with a bit of prepared mustard I found in my aunts’ pantry. Food could improve any situation. Topping the crusty bread with a slice of cheese, one of ham, and a thick juicy slab of tomato made my mouth water and my stomach rumble.
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