Taken Too Soon

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Taken Too Soon Page 23

by Edith Maxwell


  “Let me by.” She set fists on hips. “I’m after being as good as any man with a saw and better than many.”

  I smiled to myself. The broad-shouldered young woman was young and strong, able with heavy fishing lines and boats. Why shouldn’t she help clear the obstacle? Edwin let her go.

  Joseph followed her out. “We can get the necessary tools from my shed.”

  “I can slide under the tree and run for the tools if you’re telling me where you’re keeping them,” Brigid offered.

  If there was any group under the sun who would accept an offer of manual labor from a girl of sixteen, it was Friends. Joseph wasn’t a member of our faith, but he worked for a Quaker. For me right now, my own work had to take center stage.

  I beckoned Edwin to a relatively quiet corner in the hallway. “Thee saw what I saw?” I spoke as softly as I could.

  “I did, Mrs. Dodge. Someone is a fool to demonstrate such evidence in front of a hundred people.”

  “He has to be the one who felt threatened by me and locked me in the shed.”

  Edwin’s smile was faint but satisfied. “I would agree.”

  Effie hurried up, panting, bent over but golden eyes bright. “Mrs. Dodge. That was him.”

  Edwin’s expression grew more keen. “Mrs. Bugos, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, sir. And you’d be the detective.”

  “I am.”

  Effie didn’t seem to know Edwin. She must have spoken to Larkin earlier.

  “Effie, of whom does thee speak?” I asked.

  “That rich old cock who spoke in the service, mind you, about Detective Merritt locking up the villain. My hearing is as good as it was the day I turned twenty, and I have a facility with recognizing voices. I tell you as sure as my middle name is Malvina, that man’s is the voice of the person who went out on the boat with Frannie before dawn last Saturday.”

  My eyes widened. This was the break we needed.

  Edwin crouched a little to meet her gaze. “And?”

  “He’s the selfsame one, him with his coat looking for all the world to these old eyes like a skirt, who came back after sunup with an empty boat.”

  Chapter Fifty-four

  To the accompaniment of sawing and hewing in the front of the building, Edwin thanked Effie.

  “You’re willing to sign a statement about what you witnessed?” he asked her.

  She scoffed. “Of course.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “He’s a bad one, that Latting.”

  “Thank thee for this important information, Effie.”

  “I thank you as well, Mrs. Bugos,” Edwin said.

  Effie bustled off, hailing another white-haired woman.

  To me Edwin murmured, “I have additional information about Latting. This building doesn’t have another egress, does it?”

  “I actually don’t know, but I doubt all these people, including members of this Meeting, would be waiting around for the tree to be removed if they could exit by another door.”

  “Good point. Where has young Larkin got himself to?” He turned his head right and left, looking. He let out an exasperated sigh. “Well, watch the exits for me, will you, please? Make sure Latting doesn’t get out.”

  Abial was a lot bigger than I was, but I wasn’t alone in the building or even here in the entryway.

  “I will do my best,” I said. I poked my head out the front door and observed the pine-cutting team for a moment. At least the rains and wind had not returned, but the sap oozing out from the fallen growth was making saws stick to hands. I moved to the interior doorway to the worship room on the left. My eyes widened to see Wesley kneeling in front of Tilly. He held both her hands. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but she didn’t appear angry with him. This looked a lot like reconciliation. I hoped for Tilly’s sake Wesley was offering an apology, and that they both could come to peace with their past as well as their present.

  But where was Abial? Ah. He stood in the far corner, leaning one arm on a wall, acting far too friendly with Hazel. And she was flirting right back. A raised male voice cracking with emotion drew me away from the sight.

  “All I meant was, I’m sorry she’s gone, Officer,” Reuben said to Edwin a few yards away from where I stood. “I wasn’t apologizing. I didn’t do anything wrong!”

  “Are you sure, young man?” the detective asked.

  “I would never hurt her in all my life.” Reuben stood tall and serious. “By the sacred eagle, I swear.”

  Zerviah laid a hand on her son’s shoulder, defending him with her silent presence.

  Edwin examined Reuben’s face. “Very well.” He turned away and began to weave through the various knots of conversing mourners toward Abial.

  “Mrs. Dodge,” a man’s voice said at my shoulder.

  I glanced up to see a uniformed Larkin. “Where did thee come from?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve been here all along, ma’am. Staying in the background, like the boss told me to.” He kept his gaze on Edwin, who had nearly reached Abial.

  “Thee is good at it. Is thee the reserve force, so to speak?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I believe I am.” He sounded both proud and a little nervous as he straightened his shoulders.

  Between Abial being as far as he could get from the exit and having Larkin at my side, I figured I could abandon my post at the door.

  “Shall we go listen in?” I asked with a small smile.

  “Yes, Mrs. Dodge, we shall.”

  Abial glanced up when Edwin neared him. The Quaker beamed his businessman’s smile at Edwin. “Well, well, Detective Merritt. Good news to report, I trust?”

  Edwin gestured to Larkin, who hurried the last few steps.

  Edwin touched Abial’s arm. “Abial Latting, I arrest you for the crimes of homicide, committing violence on a minor, the abuse of a girl, and indecent acts.”

  Abial’s jaw dropped. Hazel went pale and backed away. Larkin reached for Abial’s wrist. The older man shook him off, his face ablaze. The entire Meetinghouse stilled, the only sounds being the scraw-scraw-scraw of the saws outside.

  “This is an outrage. A travesty. How dare you, Merritt?” Abial nearly panted with the exertion of his rage, and his face had turned the color of a scarlet tanager’s plumage.

  Aha. Abial had abandoned the speech of Friends in the heat of the moment. As he had also done last evening. Perhaps he had not grown up in our faith, or his parents had not used plain speech in the home. In the heat of anger, most people revert to speaking the way their family spoke.

  “I am merely carrying out my duties to the full extent of the law,” Edwin said mildly, but his mismatched eyes were keenly focused on the accused.

  “What is the so-called evidence thee supposedly has to prove my guilt in the matter?” He nearly spat the word “evidence.”

  “All will be revealed in due time. I would appreciate you not resisting, Mr. Latting. I don’t believe that is the Quaker way, now, is it, sir? Larkin, if you please.”

  The younger officer, looking somewhat terrified, managed to cuff Abial’s hands behind his back. I glanced at Tilly, who was gaping and clutching Wesley’s hand. I was grateful she’d been able to witness justice being served.

  Brigid burst into the worship room, waving a pine branch. “The doors are cleared, ladies and gents.”

  Applause filled the building for possibly the first time in its forty-seven-year history.

  “After you, Larkin,” Edwin said, gesturing toward the door. “Mr. Latting, if you would be so kind?”

  “Kind?” Abial snarled. “You won’t think I’m so kind when I sue you up one side and down the other.”

  Edwin simply smiled and waved Larkin and his prisoner ahead, the mourners parting to leave them a wide berth.

  “Thee will join us at the Giffords’ when thee can, I hope,” I said to the detective.

  “I will do my best. I’m sure you are eager to learn what else we discovered.”

  “I am, at that.”

  L
arkin and his prisoner hadn’t gotten far before Tilly pushed through the crowd to face Abial. When she pointed a bony finger in his face, he cringed.

  “Thee! Thee, committing the ultimate act of violence and then pretending to grieve for our girl. Thee, acting as a member of the Society of Friends under false pretenses. Thee, saying thee wished for the killer to be caught.” Each time the word “thee” poured out of her with vehemence, she again jabbed toward his face. “Well, thee has been granted thy wish, and thee will burn in hell for it. Thee will have no mercy from me. I hope no one else shows thee any, either, from the police to thy jailers to God Himself. Child murderers have no place in this world of ours. I hope thee suffers for the rest of thy granted days, Abial Latting.”

  Chapter Fifty-five

  Sadie and Huldah’s home was large, but it was packed with people. Tilly sat in an armchair in the sunroom at the back, receiving condolences. Wesley sat next to her without speaking, as if being her rock. She wasn’t smiling, but to my mind the tension had gone out of her face. Outside the storm had passed. Puddles dotted the brickwork, and plants drooped from the beating they’d received.

  “Tilly looks at ease,” I murmured to Daddy as we stood with small plates of food. “It’s the first time I’ve seen her so all week.”

  He nodded, his mouth full of a fish fritter. Sadie had hired a couple of local women to warm the food that needed it while we were all off mourning and to clean up afterward.

  Daddy swallowed. “Tilly told me Wesley apologized for leaving, that he didn’t know she was with child. When he returned from being at sea, he pursued an acting career in Boston and never learned about his daughter until this week.”

  “I’m glad she isn’t carrying a grudge against him.”

  Currie appeared in the doorway from the front and beckoned to me, running his hat through his hands as if he didn’t know what to do with it.

  “Excuse me,” I said to my father and made my way to David’s brother in the hallway, curious about what he wanted.

  “Rose,” he began breathlessly. “You’re showing me a different side of what it means to be family. I mean . . .” His voice quavered with nerves. “You’ve worked so hard to help Tilly, to find Frannie’s killer, even staying in West Falmouth when my brother went home. Your father traveled all the way down here to support his sisters.” He shook his head in a wondering gesture.

  “It’s what most families do, Currie.” I kept my voice gentle.

  He cleared his throat. “I’ve resolved to patch things up with my mother. I’m taking the four forty train in a few minutes and wanted to let you know.”

  Good. I took his hand in both of mine. “I’m so pleased, and I know thy mother will be, too. Please give David my love and tell him I look forward to seeing him tomorrow.”

  “I will, of course.” In a rush, Currie leaned forward and kissed my cheek, then donned his bowler and hurried out.

  Would wonders never cease? I prayed the reconciliation would go well, and that Currie’s change of heart was a long-lasting one. I turned back to the sunroom.

  Brigid knelt in front of Tilly. “May I come to see you on occasion, Miss Tilly? I’m not Frannie, but she used to tell me how much she loved you, and I’d like to know you better.”

  Tilly brought her hand to her mouth, her eyes filling. “She said that?”

  “Oh, yes,” Brigid said, her expression serious. “You were the center of her universe.”

  “I didn’t know,” Tilly whispered.

  Brigid laughed. “You know, we girls get silly in these years as we’re becoming women. Sure and she might have forgotten to tell you, but I speak the truth. She loved you, and that’s that.”

  “Please do call on me.” Tilly patted her eyes with her handkerchief. “I’d very much like to see thee again.”

  “I will, then. Both me own grans are back in Ireland. I miss them terribly.”

  Tilly regarded Brigid. “Thee is a good person, my dear. I see this.”

  I wiped my own eye and turned away. The world held more than one spot of hope today. I passed by knots of people talking, eating, some waiting to see Tilly, some making chitchat. Before leaving the Meetinghouse, I had invited Zerviah to join us. She’d thanked me but declined.

  I’d taken her hand. “I very much enjoyed meeting and learning from thee. I hope we’ll see each other again.”

  “I hope so, as well.” She frowned. “I’m not certain what will happen to us, my husband and son and I. If Mr. Latting is hanged for his crimes, what will happen to the house for which we are caretakers?”

  “I don’t know. He has children. I would imagine they would inherit the property.”

  Her frown disappeared. “I suppose so.” She squeezed my hand. “I would like to write to you, Rose, if I may.”

  “Please do, and I shall write back. We live on Whittier Street in Amesbury.”

  Now I spied Dru in the parlor. She was surrounded by women and looked happy. All was well there. Marie sailed in holding a platter of cookies.

  “Rose, dear, you might as well taste your own wares.” She smiled at me.

  “I thank thee, but I haven’t had any savory food yet. I’ll wait on the sweets. Marie, we were all so busy this morning I didn’t inquire about thy mother.”

  “She’s actually doing somewhat better. She’s at least more comfortable, and my sister is with her. Thank you for thinking of her.”

  “Of course. I’ll be traveling back to Amesbury tomorrow, but I hope to see thee there.”

  “I expect you shall.” Marie beamed her smile at me and returned to cookie duty.

  I went back into the hallway to find Edwin, hat in hand, standing in the open doorway.

  “Precisely the person I wanted to see,” he said. “May we talk somewhere?”

  I gestured with my thumb. “Not in there. It’s full of ladies. How about a walk outside, now the storm is gone?”

  “Excellent idea.”

  I’d stashed my bonnet in one of the bedrooms, but decided I could go without. The detective and I strolled together down the quiet lane.

  “Our criminal is safely locked up, I trust?” I asked.

  “Indeed he is. He’s not a bit happy about it, either.”

  “Did thee notice he addressed thee as ‘you’ in the heat of his anger? The person who attacked me did, too, from the other side of the door.”

  “Oh? I hadn’t noticed. You’ll like this one. When I asked him how he’d cut his hand, he claimed it was from attempting to repair something in his house. I daresay the man has never fixed a thing in his life.”

  “Not recently, anyway. He wouldn’t know where to start except by summoning Joseph. Now, Edwin, I’m sure a cut hand and an old woman saying she heard his voice getting into a boat with a girl will not be enough to convict him of Frannie’s homicide.”

  “And you would be correct. However, Miss McChesney attested to Latting buying the very size of padlock that shut you into the shed. And based on your recommendation, we had a thorough interview with the wharfmaster.”

  “Who goes by Mr. C.”

  “He’s the one. Apparently Joseph Baxter owns a rowboat he docks at the wharf. Mrs. Bugos says she saw Latting come back alone, and so did Mr. C. We scoured the boat and discovered traces of blood on the gunwale.”

  “But there’s no way to determine if it was Frannie’s blood.”

  “If only there were.”

  “Perhaps in the future the police will have a way at their disposal to analyze blood,” I said.

  “At any rate, one key piece of evidence is a button my man discovered stuck in a crack in the boat’s bottom.”

  “Abial’s button?”

  “Yes. It matches the missing one on his tailored suit jacket. These buttons are unique to a particular Boston tailor.”

  My eyes widened. “I noticed a missing button on First Day. I thought perhaps he’d simply neglected it when he buttoned the coat.”

  Edwin shook his head. “He didn’t forget t
o fasten it. Make no mistake about it. Latting was in that boat.”

  “It seems the height of arrogance to go about in public with a missing button—which was lost while he committed homicide—and then a hand bandaged in the commission of an attack on me.”

  “I daresay Latting is nothing if not arrogant. He had another button sewn on since Sunday, but it didn’t match the others.”

  “I told thee he said he never went out on boats.”

  “All a ruse, Mrs. Dodge. A criminal’s ruse, one of many. Once we presented him with the evidence, he blew up and told us the whole story. Larkin got it all on paper.

  “I suppose he must have fathered Frannie’s child and she told him. She wanted him to marry her, I expect. Or at least support her child.”

  “Latting is a man who relies on his reputation,” Edwin said. “He told us being exposed to the world as a man who impregnated a sixteen-year-old girl would have hurt his business prospects.”

  “Not that men have never done that.” I raised my eyebrows.

  “Right you are, more’s the pity.”

  “Perhaps his business prospects aren’t as solid as he likes to make out,” I said. “He could be in financial straits and wouldn’t have been able to manage the additional expense of supporting a young wife and baby.”

  “We’ll find out. Have no doubt about it.”

  “Was Abial the one who lied about seeing someone in Tilly’s boat with her?” I asked.

  “Yes. Larkin reminded me of that this morning, and it was Miss Bowman who lied about Reuben taking Frannie out. I now regret having suspected him on such a flimsy thread.” He shook his head. “So many prevarications this week.”

  We walked on in silence for a moment. Marsh grasses nearby waved mauve-colored feathery plumes six feet tall, looking like ladies at the opera. On the ground under a wickedly thorny stem holding red rose hips, poison ivy leaves turned a deadly reddish purple. In the distance a giant white egret tiptoed through shallow water, its long pointed beak ready to grab unsuspecting prey. Abial hadn’t used a beak, but he’d certainly preyed on the young and innocent.

 

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