Dancing Dead

by Deborah Woodworth

  “Wilhelm, I urge you—”

  “I want your explanation, Sister—now.”

  “You’d best listen to her warnings,” Grady said. “We’ll talk in the Ministry House—unless you want the world to know your business.”

  Wilhelm glanced around and saw the growing crowd. Several strangers stumbled backward after one look at his face, but even Wilhelm wouldn’t succeed in keeping the world out of earshot. He stalked off toward the Ministry House.

  “I’m waiting,” Wilhelm said, once they’d gathered in the now-barren Ministry library. Rose left the lights turned off and the curtains closed to deter the curious, giving the room an abandoned feel. The air already smelled stale.

  Rose and Grady pulled three ladder-back chairs off their pegs and set them in a circle. But Wilhelm chose to stand beside his chair, his thick arms crossed over his chest, and his wind-roughened lips pressed into a grim line.

  Grady and Rose exchanged glances; Rose’s eyes pleaded for time. “Wilhelm,” she said, “why didn’t you tell me you’d once been married and that you had a daughter?”

  Wilhelm’s face blanched as white as his hair. He collapsed into his chair and stared at the floor. “It was not necessary for thee to know,” he said. “It was in my past and none of thy concern.”

  Rose did not point out that Wilhelm had for years made it his concern to remind her of her own brief sojourn in the world. “There was no need to keep your past secret,” Rose said. “Many good Shakers have left their families to become Believers.”

  Wilhelm raised his eyes to Rose’s face. “I should never have married,” he said. “I was young, callow. It was sinful of me.” He straightened his back. “However, that was many years ago, and I have atoned. I became a Believer and try with all my strength to keep others from committing the same sins. All that is behind me. It can have nothing to do with this . . . this mess you’ve gotten us into after I’ve been gone less than three days.”

  The old Wilhelm was reasserting himself, but for a moment, Rose felt she had seen into his soul. She understood now why Wilhelm’s attention always seemed so absorbed by the evils of carnality and the virtue of celibacy. His own sins—or at least, his perceived sins—haunted him. For the first time, Rose suspected there might be a fragile human being beneath Wilhelm’s harsh exterior. But she wasn’t completely convinced.

  “Exactly where have you been during the last two days?” Grady asked. He flipped open his notebook.

  Wilhelm’s face reddened. “Brother Andrew and I drove south, looking for new customers. Andrew has developed some fine new medicinal herb potions, and we wanted to show them around. I can’t recall where we were each precise moment. We would have to check our journals.”

  “Were you together the whole time?”

  “Yea.”

  “Isn’t it unusual for you to go along on these trips?”

  “I am an elder, but I work alongside my brothers. That is our way.”

  “But have you accompanied Andrew before?”

  “Nay. I felt it was time. We were exploring new markets, farther away.”

  Grady glanced up from his notebook and studied Wilhelm’s face. “When did you first realize that Mrs. Mina Dunmore was really your daughter, Wilhelmina?”

  Wilhelm blinked at Grady as if his question made no sense. His eyes darted around the room, landing for an instant on Rose, then flicking away again. Rose sensed that his mind was working at top speed.

  “Well?” Grady demanded.

  “Sheriff, I had no idea until this very moment that Mrs. Dunmore was anyone other than a rather irritating guest at our ill-advised hostel.”

  “Really,” Grady said, his voice heavy with disbelief.

  “I do not lie,” said Wilhelm.

  “Yet you had spoken with her on occasion—otherwise, how would you know she was, as you said, irritating?”

  “She had an intrusive manner,” Wilhelm said. “She wandered through our private buildings without permission. But she never once said she was any relation to me. I would not have believed her if she had.”

  “We have proof,” Grady said. “Her birth certificate.”

  “I do not believe thee.”

  Grady pulled the document out of his pocket, opened it, and held it in front of Wilhelm’s face. He held on to it tightly so Wilhelm could not take it from him. Wilhelm slid his spectacles from his work jacket pocket and adjusted them on his nose. His hands shook. He examined the document for no more than a few seconds, then bowed his head.

  “Do you recognize this birth certificate?” Grady asked.

  “Yea. But it does not prove that Mrs. Dunmore was indeed Wilhelmina.”

  “That should be easy enough to prove,” Grady said, slipping the paper back into his pocket. “And when we do, we will have our motive for murder. Wilhelm, you’re under arrest for the murder of Mrs. Mina Dunmore—”

  “Impossible. I was away from the village.”

  “—in the early morning hours of Sunday, April 24—well before you left North Homage—and for murdering Brother Linus Eckhoff, which you could easily have done before you left the village. You’ll have to come with me.” He pulled a pair of handcuffs from a bulging pocket.

  “Grady, please,” Rose said. “Don’t use those; they aren’t necessary, and they will only increase the curiosity of all these strangers in our village.”

  “Go ahead,” Wilhelm said, holding his arms straight out in front of him. “Bind my wrists. The world should see that I am being made a sacrifice for the sins of another.”

  Grady shoved the handcuffs back into his pocket and took Wilhelm by the elbow. “Let’s just do this quietly, shall we?”

  Rose followed behind them all the way to Grady’s dusty brown Buick. She felt a weariness that even one of Josie’s revivifying teas would not cure. She knew she must believe in Wilhelm’s innocence and search for the true killer elsewhere—and she knew that Wilhelm wouldn’t be much help. Already he saw himself as a martyr for Shakerdom, rather than a man facing the hangman’s rope for two gruesome murders.

  Fourteen

  “DID YOU KNOW ABOUT WILHELM’S PAST?” ROSE SAT IN Agatha’s retiring room, sipping some of the peppermint tea Josie had brought to settle the frail former eldress’s stomach. Agatha had been unable to eat much for the last couple of days. Rose was concerned that the shock of two violent deaths in the village had further weakened her dear friend.

  Agatha nodded slowly. Her pale neck looked so fragile that it seemed to have barely enough strength to complete the action. “Yea, I have known for years. When Obadiah became so ill and stepped down as elder, he recommended to the Mount Lebanon Ministry that Wilhelm replace him. However, he told Wilhelm he would do so only on one condition—that Wilhelm confess to me everything from his life before becoming a Believer. Obadiah believed that elders and eldresses could not guide effectively if we kept secrets from one another. In turn, I urged Wilhelm to reveal his past to you when you became eldress, but I lacked Obadiah’s power over him. I did not feel I had the right to tell you myself.”

  “Didn’t it concern Obadiah that he had to threaten Wilhelm to make him open himself to you?”

  Agatha gave one of her now-rare smiles. The last stroke had weakened her right side, so the smile was lopsided, yet it made Agatha look younger and stronger. “I have always disagreed with Wilhelm on so many things, but I see him as Obadiah did—a devout Believer who lives his beliefs without compromise. Perhaps I’d prefer for him to compromise just a little now and then. However, I must respect his intentions.” Despite the warmth of the room, Agatha pulled her blanket over her arms. “Obadiah saw Wilhelm’s secretiveness as his greatest weakness and tried to force him into the light. It did some good, I believe, though it often might not seem so.”

  “Perhaps you are right,” Rose said. “As Grady drove him away after arresting him, Wilhelm turned to look at me. I saw fear on his face—he allowed me to see it, if just for a moment. I suspect part of him welcomes martyrdom,
but the rest wants to live.”

  With her tiny feet, Agatha pushed her chair in a gentle rocking. “I know Wilhelm was deeply ashamed of having deserted his wife and child—the daughter, I believe, was quite young at the time. But he was able to tell Obadiah and then me about it. Now he has finally told you and Grady, as well. Even if I did not know Wilhelm to be a sincere Believer, and therefore a pacifist, it makes no sense to me that he killed his own daughter and his spiritual brother to keep a secret he had already told.”

  Rose had to agree. Unable to sit still, she paced to the window and peeked through the curtain, closed against rude strangers from the world.

  “I am sure that you will find out the truth,” Agatha said. “No one is as stubborn as you.”

  Rose spun around, then laughed as she saw Agatha’s lopsided grin. “I suppose that is one of my greatest weaknesses.”

  “And one of your strengths. Now, before you throw yourself into your search—as important as it is—please do stop by the Children’s Dwelling House this afternoon. That’s important, too.”

  “Mairin’s birthday party!”

  “Yea, we rescheduled it. First one killing, now another . . . Mairin understands, but I didn’t want to wait much longer. To gain her trust, we must keep our word. I told Gertrude to bring over a cake at three o’clock, just as the children have finished school for the day. I asked Charlotte to speak with all the parents of the other children, so they might stay for the party, as well. Agatha rocked more vigorously. “Mother Ann is with us; I feel her. You must let her guide you, Rose.”

  “I will.” Rose believed in the messages brought through Agatha’s heightened spiritual senses, but she wished that, once in a while, she might hear them first herself.

  “You will find the truth,” Agatha repeated. “I will keep you and Wilhelm in my prayers.” She slowed her rocking. “And Mairin. I am equally concerned about Mairin. I truly believe the child has gifts,” she said, “and that she has been sent to us. I see a place for her here, with us.”

  “I suppose I’m not the best person to show Mairin that adults can be trusted, am I? I do become single-minded—not unlike Wilhelm, I must admit.”

  “Just be at the Children’s Dwelling House at three. After that, you can sleuth day and night. I’ll watch over Mairin. I’ve also asked Gennie to come to the party, and she can help keep an eye on the child.”

  What will I do without you? Rose didn’t say the words. She knew the answer.

  With Mairin’s party at three o’clock, there was just time for Rose to dig into one or two questions she had about the backgrounds of the hostel guests. She would find the killer among them, she felt sure of it. It was a big job, but she knew Andrew could be counted on to help. They could divide the list of hostel guests between them.

  Rose patted her apron pocket, where she’d stuffed the notes she’d made from Andrew’s records. He’d be in the Medicinal Herb Shop now. Luckily, the shop was just east of the Center Family Dwelling House, so she left by the kitchen door and cut through the garden. She picked up her pace as she noticed several strangers leave the central path and veer toward her. Word of Wilhelm’s arrest had surely spread throughout the county by now. The last thing she wanted to do was field rude questions from the world.

  Spring had been drifting into summer all day, though the warmth was still far from oppressive. Bright sunlight and thirsty plants had dried the ground and tinted it with vibrant spring colors. The pungent sweetness of healthy young herbs perfumed the air. If she were not hunting a killer and mourning the loss of a brother, Rose would be singing a Shaker song of praise and gratitude. As it was, she prayed for help, guidance, and a quick resolution to this tragic situation.

  Brother Andrew had used his talents to rejuvenate the North Homage medicinal herb industry, which now brought in much needed income. He’d recently lost his most experienced workers, so he spent a fair portion of his time in the Medicinal Herb Shop, training two young brothers who’d shown an interest in learning. All three brothers spent their mornings planting and their afternoons studying medicinal herbs, so they’d be ready to work quickly when the herbs became ready for use. As Rose opened the door to the shop, she was greeted by three startled faces, which relaxed as they recognized their eldress. The odor of unwashed socks told her that one of the ongoing experiments involved a large amount of valerian. She was careful to pull the door shut again behind her. Under normal circumstances, Andrew would have the door and windows wide open, to freshen the air.

  “Has the world been intruding today?” she asked.

  “Yea, very much so,” Andrew said, as he placed a chair next to his tiny, cluttered desk. “I had to ask the last bunch how they would like it if a crowd of strangers walked into their homes without knocking. Apparently it had never occurred to them that this village is our home and doesn’t exist simply for their entertainment.”

  “Perhaps we can do something to help them lose interest,” Rose said. She smoothed her long skirt under her and scooted awkwardly onto the chair. She was taller than average for a woman, but this chair had been specially crafted for an even taller man.

  “I’ll help in any way I can,” Andrew said. He closed a journal in which Rose caught sight of scribbled notes about various medicinal herb experiments, and rested his elbow on the desk. He had a thin face, with dark eyebrows that often puckered with intense concentration. Rose felt better because she could share this burden with him. Not for the first time, she wished he were elder.

  “I strongly suspect that Mrs. Dunmore’s killer and Brother Linus’s are one and the same. And I think he or she is one of our hostel guests.”

  “Are you quite certain it isn’t Wilhelm?”

  Rose hesitated. She felt sure, but that didn’t mean she was right. She had to keep her mind open. “All right, I’m reasonably certain. We must investigate all possibilities. But Grady is sure Wilhelm is guilty, and he won’t be scrutinizing anyone else. He won’t have reason to look closely at the guests. So we must. Could you free yourself to do a bit more traveling right away?”

  Andrew glanced around at his assistants. “Howard and Patrick are learning well. They can work on planting while I’m gone. Where do you want me to go?”

  “I want you to track down Saul Halvardson’s background—where he’s from, whether he is who he claims to be, anything you can find out. Since he’s supposed to be a salesman, I thought you might be able to trace his route by talking to your own customers first, and then—I don’t know, maybe you can pick up a clue that will lead you to his customers.”

  “Leave it to me.”

  “Good. Meanwhile, I’ll work on finding out more about Beatrice Berg.” She pulled her notes from her apron pocket and spread them on the desk, taking care not to lean in too close to Andrew. “According to your notes—” She glanced up at him. “I hope you don’t mind. While you were gone, I went through your desk to find out everything I could about the hostel guests.”

  “My records belong to the Society,” Andrew said.

  “Well, you wrote that Beatrice listed a boardinghouse in Languor as her previous address. Did she mention anything else, do you remember?”

  Andrew leaned back in his chair and pressed an index finger against his lips. “She mentioned she’d been widowed for some time and had only a tiny income. She said that was why she lived in a boardinghouse rather than in her own home. As I remember, she also said she’d grown up in the hill country.”

  Andrew’s memories squared with Rose and Beatrice’s conversation in the hostel kitchen. “Did she say how long she’d lived in Languor?”

  “I believe she said she married a Languor man and lived in town most of her adult life. She mentioned having a house near the center of town. I think she wanted me to know she wasn’t right out of the hollow. Not that I’d have cared, but it seemed important to her.”

  “Thank you, that helps,” Rose said, gathering up her notes. She remembered Horace’s contention that Beatrice had lied about
living in Languor. It was something to investigate. “Let’s get to work, shall we? I suspect we haven’t much time.”

  “I’ll phone you if I find out anything that seems important.” He swung both their chairs onto wall pegs. “And Rose,” he said, turning around to face her, “be careful. If you’re right, we’re up against someone who doesn’t hesitate to kill anyone who gets in his or her way.”

  “You, too,” Rose said. “Be safe.”

  Impatient as she was to begin investigating Beatrice Berg’s background, Rose first went to the Children’s Dwelling House for Mairin’s birthday party. If she didn’t appear, she knew Mairin would be crushed, probably would not show it, and they’d be back where they’d started.

  By the time Rose entered the ground floor meeting room in the Children’s Dwelling House, the children were seated in a circle and chattering wildly, as if they’d already consumed more than enough sweets. Rose counted—only the seven children being raised by the Shakers were present. Sister Gertrude, Sister Charlotte, and Gennie were piling plates and forks at a side table. On the table they’d set a lovely cake with thick white frosting. Normally, Gertrude would have sprinkled powdered sugar on a dried apple cake, but for the children, she’d splurged. Rose suspected the frosting would be flavored with rosewater, and her mouth watered. She’d meant to skip the cake, leaving all of it for the children, but perhaps a small sliver . . .

  Mairin caught sight of Rose and ran over to her. She grinned up at Rose, the copper flecks sparkling in her green eyes. “Come on,” she said. “Sister Gertrude is going to let me cut the cake.”

  When they reached the table, Sister Charlotte drew Rose aside. “I haven’t had a chance to tell you,” she whispered. “None of our students from the world have come to school this week. Their families don’t have telephones, so I haven’t been able to contact them yet.”

  “It’s because of the murders, I’m sure,” Rose said. All the more reason to solve them quickly. The world would not be patient for long. If the murderer turned out to be someone staying at the hostel, the Shakers might lose the business, but at least the children would probably return to their school. However, if the killer turned out to be a Believer . . .