A Conspiracy to Murder, 1865

by T. L. B. Wood

  “How did the men know to come to her house?” Peter asked.

  “A fellow actor of Booth’s was aware of some of his extreme views and had been at a tavern when Booth was meeting with John Surratt when the two men were introduced. After the shooting, the actor mentioned this connection to the militia.” Kipp took a breath. That particular bit of information was difficult to come by since he’d had to pry into the brain of the man speaking with Mary. I stroked his furry head. Kipp was and is remarkable.

  “She is telling them she’s met Booth but that she knows nothing. And she’s lying about John, stating he’s been out of the country for weeks.”

  Kipp stood and his posture became rigid. His amber eyes were following a shadowy figure who arrived, standing at the edge of the group of soldiers. As I watched, the figure turned and pointed to our townhouse, where we lurked, hidden out of sight. Two of the soldiers turned, too, their heads tilted in curiosity.

  “Uh oh,” Kipp muttered. “That man is a neighbor on this street who has mentioned that we seem to be cozy with Mary Surratt and also said he saw Booth visit this home.”

  As he spoke, a small group of the soldiers broke off and began walking rapidly across the muddy street to the street-level door. They began to pound on the door, the sound resonating up the stairs to where we hid in the parlor. As the sounds intensified, we could hear the door began to splinter.

  “Uh, guys, I think it’s time to leave.” I stood and rushed the others to the small room I’d shared with Kipp, closing the door behind us.

  I had the handkerchief with the lilac blooms Lincoln had discarded tucked into my bodice. Other than that, we made certain we had the essentials, which would, for me, be Harrow’s pearls resting cool against my neck, and Peter’s grandfather’s watch, which he was wearing. Everything else was expendable…even the daffodil tea set.

  I sat on the floor, Kipp’s head in my lap, while Peter and Elani took a similar stance. Footsteps sounded on the wooden stairs, approaching the parlor landing, as I felt the surroundings melt, and the sound of rushing air filled my ears as we fell into blackness.

  Twenty-Nine

  “So, did you all just get bored while I was away?” I asked, standing next to Fitzhugh in the doorway of my house. It was good to be back home in North Carolina. In some ways, it seemed we’d been gone for years, but in others, I felt I’d just left and returned after a day trip to the country. But we had remained gone for the entire period that surrounded events before and after Lincoln’s assassination, and during that time, my friends had been busy. As I watched, a large rental moving truck parked awkwardly two houses away across my street. Since it was April in the piedmont, the trees’ limbs were heavy with fresh growth, the vividness of the green leaves filtering the bright sunlight which struck the ground in an uneven pattern of gold. The door of the truck opened with a groan that caused the birds to flee in alarm, and a figure well known to me hopped out. It was Philo, who seemed to have rediscovered his energy following the demise of his marriage to Claire. Through years of close association, I appreciated the vitality and snap that seemed to be in his walk. He was clearly feeling good again. Turning, he spied Fitzhugh and me and waved, a smile on his face.

  “How do you feel about so many of your associates crowding in?” Fitzhugh asked. His shoulder brushed mine as he turned to go to the kitchen to retrieve the whistling kettle of water. In Fitzhugh’s world, it was tea time.

  It seemed Philo had pounced on an available house that happened to be on my street and sold his large, cavernous one during our absence. I think the echoes of the empty halls and years of accumulated memories had finally weighed too heavily upon him. He would live in the newly acquired home with Vashti, who seemed very content to be a non-traveling companion for a change. And, to make things even more interesting, there was a small basement apartment, and Philo was renting that to Peter and Elani. My street, typically overrun with humans, would now be overrun with symbionts.

  Kipp was not with me at that moment, since he’d rushed across the street to monitor and, with his characteristic bossiness, direct all the activity. I wasn’t sure how he felt about Elani living in such close proximity, but he seemed a little too excited…in a deliberately nonchalant way. Following Fitzhugh to the kitchen, I dropped into a chair and watched him make tea while ignoring his question. “Fitzhugh, there was this lovely tea service we bought and used, and I wish I could have brought it home to you.” I began to describe it, realizing my words didn’t do it justice.

  “And you are avoiding my question,” he replied, smiling.

  “While you are at it, Kipp needs some information retrieved about past symbionts and how they navigated the issue of being in contact with a human who is dying. He wants to add that topic to the ethics class.” I nodded as he placed a teacup in front of me; the distinctive smell of bergamot filled the kitchen.

  “Okay, don’t answer me.” Fitzhugh set the steeping pot on the table and sat opposite me. “What is your impression of Victor?” he asked. In my absence, Philo had brought on a new assistant to work with Fitzhugh in the library. “I could be wrong, of course, but I think he will get on splendidly with you,” he finished in a rush of words. It was clear he hoped to please me. Since historically he’d not cared one way or the other about my feelings, the fact he did now was a sign of our evolving relationship.

  “Well, I hope so. I’m ready for some peace and quiet.” Even as I said it, I realized I probably wasn’t, since it wasn’t really in our nature to remain quiescent for long. Maybe a few weeks would be nice? Victor and his symbiont, Fyre, were former travelers until Fyre was badly injured—oddly, not during one of our dangerous time-shifts but as result of a car accident. With his leg broken in several places, he’d lost the confidence as well as agility needed to time-shift, and the two remained earthbound. I didn’t get the impression Victor minded, but in Fyre there was an underlying restlessness that was undeniable. He didn’t care for being stuck in a single dimension, but such was his life unless he regained his willingness to engage in life-threatening work. Philo was looking for a good employment fit for him at Technicorps, which would be difficult since he lacked some of the advanced skills that made Kipp, Elani and Juno more flexible. He might not have thought so, because of his bad leg, but Fyre was a very attractive lupine, still relatively young and very bright. Is it not so that we often see qualities in others that they cannot see in themselves?

  Kipp distracted me from my thoughts as he arrived at the back door, demanding entrance. “Wow, this is gonna be great!” he exclaimed, walking up to place his large chin on the edge of the table. “We’ll all be together.” His back end swayed with the vigorous wagging of his tail. “And Philo said something about grilling out, whatever that means, but it involves food. Why don’t you grill out?” he asked.

  I started to make some negative comment before I realized that for Kipp, who lost his family so young, this was a recreation of a family and, therefore, important. Smiling at him, I ruffled the fur on top of his head. “Tell Philo I’ll be over in a minute to help, okay?” It was with effort I restrained myself from teasing him once again about Elani.

  Kipp dashed out the door again, disappearing around the corner of the house. I wondered what my neighbors thought of all the large dogs racing around, but since my symbiont partners had never posed any issues, there had been no complaints. And as long as one’s “dog” stayed on one’s property, there was no violation of any ordinances. So we were good.

  “This is a bit of a change, Petra, you must admit.” Juno’s soft voice entered my mind. I could be a little avoidant and sassy with Fitzhugh, but not Juno. “You were accustomed to living a quiet life, just you and your symbiont. Now you have me and Fitzhugh, as well as Lily,” she said, nodding to the striped feline who stalked into the room looking for food. Finding her bowl empty, Lily sat and glared at me, wrapping her tail tightly around her feet.

  Sighing, I went to the cabinet and found a little can of something hor
ribly smelly; the stinky food seemed to be her favorite. Lily danced on tiptoes, doing figure eights through my legs as I spooned the contents into her bowl. Fitzhugh was smiling at me.

  “What?”

  “You’re all domesticated,” he said, laughing.

  “I’m going to help Philo,” I replied, not liking to be caught in a trap of words. Following Kipp’s path, I exited out the kitchen door and wandered around the side of my house. Some shrubs were getting too large, I thought critically, fed by the spring rains and ample sunlight. Maybe I needed to hang around for a change and get some work done on my home. There were a couple of symbionts I recognized from Technicorps helping lift the heavier objects, while Philo and Peter struggled with a love seat.

  “Get the door, will you?” Philo grunted. The sweat was beaded on his forehead, and his face was flushed, but he was clearly enjoying himself.

  “Glad I can help,” I replied, ignoring his glare. Curious, I entered the house, which seemed like a good mama bear choice…not too big, not too small. Since I was nosey, I wandered to the stairs and found the basement apartment that would be Peter’s new digs. Elani followed me, the excitement glowing in her dark eyes.

  “Won’t this be wonderful?” she said, her tail wagging with happiness. “We’ll all be close by and can spend more time together.”

  I hoped it would be wonderful. Sometimes too much time spent in the company of friends and loved ones could get strained. It was good Elani had brushed past her initial discomfort being around Vashti, and they now seemed to get along splendidly. But I realized, in her love-struck heart of hearts, she could see Kipp more often and not appear as if she was making an effort. It would be a simple thing to come over to my house to borrow, let’s say, a cup of sugar, just to be able to say hello to Kipp. I went back to the kitchen, which was nice and spacious with lots of windows overlooking a small garden in the rear. The yard was a little neglected, but I figured Philo and Peter could whip it into shape. There was a large box labeled “dishes”, and I began to unpack them. Philo walked by, holding the other side of a large table. “Just put them up, please, anywhere that looks reasonable and logical.”

  It was nice to have free reign, and I began to whistle a little as I worked. Without being conscious of it, I picked a well-known song, and before long, I could hear Elani singing the words, audible in my head. Yes, I figured this closeness could be okay. Maybe.

  As I scouted out the prime locations for the dishes, I thought back to our return from 1865 Washington. Elani had led the debriefing of our trip, and it was a difficult one, simply because she was so honest. I’d learned, over time, to breeze past moments that might cause the Twelve to wrinkle their collective brows and frown at me. No, I wouldn’t say I actually lied to that august body, I just minimized the rough spots. In my way of thinking, why did they need to worry about the process if the outcome was okay? Elani pulled out every detail in a painstaking manner, not omitting any possible flubs that we made. In the end, however, the Twelve felt we’d recovered as much of the original timeline as was possible and averted a potential disaster. It was not my easiest time-shift, nor was it my most difficult. If I were forced to choose, I think it would be a tossup between Titanic and Whitechapel.

  I heard voices in the hallway and glanced up to see Victor arrive, laughing at something Philo said. Why would a new guy help someone move unless he wanted something in return, I thought cynically? Then, I felt bad because I realized, as I listened, that Philo had helped Victor when he moved to our collective, and Victor was returning the favor. Fyre ambled into the kitchen, his limp pronounced. And a moment later, Vashti followed him, her eyes meeting mine as she gave a wag of her tail.

  “Petra, have you seen my water bowl? Everyone is getting a little thirsty…I think Philo packed it in that box over there,” she said, using her long nose to point.

  Yes, it was there, or I had completely lost my touch. She was making veiled glances at Fyre, who was trying not to look back at her. I felt like I was at an adolescent dance party where everyone is a little awkward at first, waiting for someone else to make the first move. Well, I age myself. Adolescent dance parties used to be such, and I had no idea what on earth was going on with humans in the contemporary age, but I suspected it was a little more freewheeling than it once was. I wanted to groan. First there was Kipp and Elani; now we had Fyre and Vashti. I felt old.

  Filling the water bowl to the rim, I stepped back and placed it on the floor and watched the dance of courtesy between Vashti and Fyre. As I watched him limp forward at her insistence as hostess, I registered how badly his right foreleg must have been shattered to leave him with such a pronounced limp. He was an unusual color of brown and just starting to get the tiniest fringe of gray on his muzzle. Fyre made me think of a distinguished middle-aged man who was acquiring gray at the temples, just enough to make him look learned and dependable. Yes, it was there, subtle but present. Vashti had a crush on Fyre. Great, I thought. All the love waves circling in the air would give me a headache.

  Philo rushed past, whistling, having picked up the tune I’d been humming. He squeezed my arm and kissed me on top of my head before pulling his wallet out of his back pocket and throwing it on the table.

  “Hey, call the pizza guy and order us some food,” he ordered before disappearing. “And no onions, since Kipp doesn’t like them.”

  I personally refused to have a cell phone, but Peter did and made the call. Thirty minutes, the pizza guy promised. Oddly, I needed to see Fitzhugh again and walked back over to my house. He was still sitting at the dinette, sipping tea. Nodding, as if he expected me, he poured me a cup and thoughtfully added a spoonful of honey to mine.

  “What is bothering you?” he asked, glancing up at me. The room was empty, save him. Juno was in my front parlor room, snoozing in a patch of sunlight. “You are more restless and unsettled than usual.”

  “Fitzhugh, what exactly do you know from your experience about travelers who have stayed telepathically connected to a human who is dying?” I clasped my hands in my lap as I sat across from him. “The idea is disturbing to me.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Well, for symbionts as well as humans, there is curiosity about the afterlife, and we have developed belief systems to help us cope with the unknown. Some of us choose faith, others choose science or nature, and then there are those who believe there is no afterlife. The fact that it is technically an unknown until one makes that final journey means that one’s belief system could be challenged.” I sighed deeply.

  He nodded. “And that is one reason we don’t advocate symbionts maintain that connection. Any particular symbiont’s belief system could be challenged and cause a life-changing moment.” Fitzhugh smiled. “But I think more importantly, that final journey for any of us is deeply personal, and I know I would prefer to take it without others monitoring me out of curiosity. I would have to think it is the same for most humans.”

  “Maybe that is more of the issue,” I replied, glad we were talking. “It feels morbid to glom onto someone’s personal spiritual journey. Or even if that human—or symbiont—is not particularly spiritual, there is the departing of life that is emotional.” I sighed again. “Kipp may need more help with the explanation than I can give him.” I lifted my eyebrows and smiled. “You know how he is.”

  “I’ll talk with him,” Fitzhugh promised. “And it is a good topic to introduce to the ethics class. People, as well as symbionts tend to avoid discussing death, but it is just another part of our life cycle.”

  Fitzhugh had already had a couple of heart attacks, and even though he seemed pretty vigorous, one never could know. And then there was Juno, who was aged.

  “Fitzhugh, do you think we sometimes avoid deeper connections for fear of losing one another?”

  “Are you speaking in generalities or are you speaking of yourself?”

  I glanced at him and laughed. “It seems a little unreal to me, our journey, I mean. I can’t envision in the pas
t having this type of meaningful discussion with you. And I doubt you thought you’d see yourself sitting across the table from me talking as we are right now.”

  “And we have, despite our earlier rough start, developed a close relationship. Petra, I never had a daughter, but if I had, I would like to think she would be more than a little like you. And I would hope we would be able to touch one another’s hearts and minds.” He smiled through his beard and mustache as I felt my heart squeeze at his words. “I think I see so many of your qualities that mirror mine, and that has made for some past quarrels as well as personal growth.”

  I glanced at the back door; Kipp stood there, his sides heaving with exertion. He purposely was staying out of my head but returned with a vengeance, demanding I open the door.

  “Philo needs you,” he said, taking a few deep breaths. “The pizza guy is about to show up.”

  “If there is pizza, count me in, too,” Fitzhugh said, standing. Reaching down, he held out his hand, which I took. “Let’s go eat.”

  It seemed a good thing to do. I wasn’t exactly unwilling to have a deep, purpose-driven discussion with Fitzhugh, but at the same time, it was sometimes nice to share some pizza, laughs with friends, and good times. Before we left, I peeked in on Juno, who was in a deep, comforting sleep. Not wanting to awaken her, I determined I’d save her a slice. As Fitzhugh and I rounded the corner of my house, I saw the bright sunlight strike Kipp’s broad back, the ruddy fur looking like burnished copper. There was a mild breeze angling through the trees, and Kipp turned into the wind, lifting his head as he took in the scents of the neighborhood. He could have remained wild and untouched, but he had chosen life with me. I reminded myself of his choice and the degree of responsibility I felt to be a good partner to him. He had such capacity for growth and knowledge, and I hoped I could be up to the task. Kipp turned to glance at me, and his thoughts flooded my mind.