“If it’s all right with you, I’d like to remove the body to my office,” the doctor said. “It’s beginning to stiffen, and there are things I need to do.”
“Of course,” the sheriff said, placing his notes in a pocket. “I’ll send a couple of men with a stretcher.”
Dr. Turner laid his coat over Molly’s face. “Thanks, I should have a report no later than Tuesday.”
The sheriff nodded his assent while tucking the pencil behind his ear. “Let’s go gentlemen.” As the others went outside, Jim pulled Reagan aside. “For the next few days I’m advising you not to go anywhere where I can’t easily find you.”
“Surely, you don’t think I had anything to do with this?” Reagan said. “I mean, how stupid would I be, to kill a woman then leave her body in my office?”
“This has nothing to do with what I believe, Reagan. You should know I’m obligated to follow procedures. Besides,” he placed a hand on Reagan’s shoulder. “It’s the only way to exonerate you. C’mon,” he said, grinning. “Let’s go take a look at that fine carriage of yours.”
Inspecting the carriage, the sheriff found nothing to arouse his curiosity. “It looks pretty normal to me,” he said. But just as he began shutting the door, a patch of yellow caught his eye. Reaching in, he felt along the toe-kick and withdrew a parasol. “Does this belong to any of the Burnsfield women?” he asked.
Reagan’s eyes clouded as he recognized the sunshade. “No, I believe that belongs to the lady in question.”
“I’m going to follow you home to question your driver,” Jim said. “It’ll ensure for the judge that I’m taking his statement to corroborate the facts.”
“Of course,” Reagan nodded. “I want this cleared up as soon as possible.”
As Thomas and Reagan entered their conveyance, Sheriff Hadley mounted his horse. Even though he believed Reagan wasn’t responsible for the terrible crime, his connections with the dead woman didn’t look good. Jim’s analytical mind ticked off the strikes against the lumberman. Between knowing the victim, having recent contact with her and finding the body in his office, the motive for murder was obvious. A pregnant paramour would be a problem for anyone, particularly a man of means who also happened to be married.
Chapter Eighty-Three
The discovery of a woman’s body in the new mill fueled gossip that Reagan Burnsfield had been wantonly indecent with another woman. Within two days of finding Molly’s body, Sheriff Hadley had amassed quite a bit of information. He learned that Molly Carnes was a prostitute who’d professed to her co-workers that she was keeping the company of a wealthy man. Her flaunting of jewelry and expensive clothing the last weeks of her life supported her claim. The bartender insisted Molly had kept to herself the past few months, emerging only for an occasional venture into the saloon. Her quarters revealed no information that could explain how or why she entered Reagan’s office. A rear window in the mill was open, but Sheriff Hadley doubted the woman could have hoisted herself through, especially in her condition.
Once the news got around, Clara Farrington visited the sheriff, declaring it her civic duty to testify Reagan Burnsfield had indeed, openly courted the harlot. Clara gave a description that matched the dead girl. She embellished her story by saying she could tell right away the strumpet was expecting, though in reality, that news had passed her ears only after the girl’s body was discovered.
Even while maintaining such information was circumstantial, Sheriff Hadley experienced a growing dread as he documented each piece of evidence.
After calling on every house on Old Mill Road, the sheriff determined Molly Carnes never lived or worked at any residence, save the saloon. He finally located the home of Phineas Carnes several miles from town. After accompanying him to the undertaker’s to identify Molly’s body, Sheriff Hadley now had the unpleasant task of taking the man’s statement.
“So, there’s no doubt she’s your daughter?” Jim asked as he sat behind his desk. Phineas Carnes sat slumped in a chair, his hat in his hands.
“None,” he said, shaking his head. “I told th’ girl no good would come of her living like a hussy!” The man’s red-rimmed eyes filled with anguish while Hadley took notes. “But, there weren’t no talking sense to th’ lass. She done made up her mind. She weren’t really a bad girl. She wuz a dreamer, always fixing her sights on what she couldn’t git.”
“I’m sorry,” the sheriff said, having no words to comfort the grieving father. “We’re doing everything we can to discover the truth.”
“You say she wuz found in a lumber mill? What wuz she doing there?”
“We’re not sure,” Jim said. “We believe she was either murdered there, or placed there afterward. Doc Turner determined she couldn’t have been dead for very many hours before she was discovered.”
Phineas worried the brim of his hat. “I done told her. Why wouldn’t she listen?”
Jim set down his pencil. “Is there anything I can do for you, Mr. Carnes? I know this must come as a terrible shock.”
“I want you to catch th’ brute that done this to my little girl,” Phineas choked. “Yer deputy said th’ mill weren’t locked like normal. Could th’ owner have something to do with it?”
“We’re looking into all possibilities,” Jim said. “I personally know the owners and it’s unlikely either of them would do such a thing, although the facts have yet to rule out the son.”
“What’ya mean?” Phineas stood, glaring at the sheriff. “Whut kind of facts you talkin’ about?”
“Just that there’s some circumstantial evidence, nothing conclusive,” Jim said, bracing himself. “One of the owners met Molly shortly before she died.”
“Don’t you figger that’s enough proof to lock him up?” He slammed a fist on the desk. “Why ain’t he behind bars?”
“He’s an upstanding man in the community--”
Phineas’s rage now had a target. “I don’t care who th’ bastard is! I want him locked up until he c’n prove he ain’t th’ one that kilt my little girl!”
“When my investigation is complete,” Jim spoke, his compassion evident, “the judge will determine whether there’s enough proof to hold Mr. Burnsfield.”
Phineas’ eyes narrowed. “Would that be th’ lumberman that goes to th’ big church in town?”
The sheriff looked startled. “Why do you ask?”
“Cuz Molly told me she wuz fixin’ to marry a man by that name when she first took to working in th’ saloon. Said she had to look like a fine laidy to snag th’ moneybags.”
“Sh-she said she knew Reagan Burnsfield? She’d met him before?”
“Molly wuz always a moonin’ over a man in church named Reagan Burnsfield. Said she talked to him, too. That he made eyes at her,” Phineas said. “He must’ve been leading her on. Telling her lies to git her away from her pappy so he could have his way with her.”
Jim struggled to digest this revelation. “But Mr. Carnes,” he began. “Reagan got married around Christmas. Both he and his wife were gone til spring. It doesn’t seem likely he would’ve struck up a relationship with Molly after that, even if he had known her.”
“Looks like he lied to y’all about knowing Molly. Whut’s to say he wouldn’t lie about th’ rest? Whut wuz his alibi fer that night?”
Jim sat back as he mulled over what Reagan had said of his whereabouts the night of Molly’s murder. “According to Reagan and his family, he’d retired early that night,” the sheriff recounted. “So far, I’ve not been able to find anything to the contrary.”
“I trust you’ll do yer sworn duty,” Phineas said, putting on his hat. “And bring Molly’s murderer to justice.”
“You can depend on that,” Sheriff Hadley said. “I serve only justice when it comes to the law.” He rose and offered his hand. “I’ll do my best Mr. Carnes, to bring the perpetrator to trial.”
Chapter Eighty-Four
After the discovery of Molly’s body and subsequent interview with the sheriff, Aman
da had existed in a world devoid of emotion. She had truthfully answered Hadley’s questions, giving an account of the evening from the time Reagan had arrived home until they retired. Although left unsaid, it was on Amanda’s mind that it was entirely possible he could have arisen during the night, left the house and returned without detection. Shaken to her core, she could only guess why Reagan’s office was the scene of a grisly murder. Her only clear determination was to stay with her beloved Aunt Gabriella until the matter was settled.
Though chagrined with her decision, Reagan didn’t try to dissuade her. “I’m confident you’ll be returning soon,” he told Amanda as they stood by the front door.
“It’s been a difficult decision,” she said, avoiding his eyes. “And very disturbing to say the least. I trust the sheriff will find the culprit.”
“I’m sure he will.”
“I’m looking forward to that day,” she said, forcing a smile. “Though your family’s been wonderful, there’s no place more comfortable than Aunt Ella’s.”
Without further words, Reagan escorted Amanda outside. He wanted her to stay; yet how could he make demands while visions of a phantom lover still haunted him? “Will you receive me if I call?” he asked.
Amanda thought Reagan never looked more handsome as he helped her inside the carriage. “I’m not sure. I don’t know how I feel about you having an encounter with this girl before she died. Yet, you never mentioned it to me.”
“All I can plead was the innocence of it all,” he said. “It never occurred to me there’d be repercussions to helping a girl in a time of need.”
“It hasn’t been explained why she was found in your office,” Amanda reminded him. “It seems rather impossible for her to be there by coincidence.” Tears slid down her cheeks as she fumbled for a handkerchief. “I don’t believe you capable of such a heinous act,” she said. “But, I just don’t know what to think anymore.”
Until this moment, Reagan hadn’t accepted his wife was leaving him, perhaps forever. With sudden clarity he realized how much he loved Amanda, indeed had loved her from the first. It felt as if his heart was being torn from his chest. Indeed, his deception had woven itself into a choking vine and, caught in its tentacles, he now ate its bitter fruit.
Closing the door, he signaled the driver and watched as the carriage drove away. Inside, Amanda’s tears fell unchecked. She couldn’t imagine a worse predicament. Even if she had once contemplated an annulment, the most she could now hope for was a divorce. Like any woman, it was unthinkable to remain married to a murderer.
Amanda regretted her decision to delay breakfast when she felt her stomach protest the swaying carriage. Despite taking deep breaths, her nausea grew until she was forced to pound the roof with her parasol. As soon as the carriage halted, she opened the door and leaned out, retching. By the time the driver reached her, she had a handkerchief pressed to her lips.
He looked at her pale face with concern. “Ma’am, are you all right? Should I take you back?”
“Please, I wish to continue.”
“But, you may need a doctor…”
“No, I wish to be taken to my aunt’s house. And please,” she beseeched. “Say nothing about my distress.”
“Very good, ma’am,” the driver said. But before shutting the door, he pressed a fresh hanky into her hands. “Just in case,” he said, smiling.
Amanda mopped her face, praying Aunt Ella would have a solution to her problem. Only this week, she had become aware that her monthly time hadn’t come. Just as she was being forced to think there was no future with Reagan, she discovered she was now carrying his child.
Chapter Eighty-Five
Phineas Carnes stood at the gravesite of his daughter with his hat in his hands. The minister had spoken prayers for the salvation of her soul but could say nothing to alleviate the pain he felt at having her life taken so brutally.
Reagan had offered to pay for Molly’s funeral because she had been found in his mill. But Phineas would have none of it. He viewed the offer as nothing more than an admission of guilt, and declared so, loudly, to whoever would listen. Despite the fact his crops needed tending, Phineas decided to stay in town to observe firsthand the development of Sheriff Hadley’s investigation.
As the days passed and finding no one else to blame, a cloud of suspicion grew over Reagan. Particularly outrageous was the unspeakable act of killing a woman who was obviously carrying a child. That she was a lady of ill repute only added to the salaciousness of the deed. With no new evidence coming to light, Sheriff Hadley had the unpleasant task of delving further into Reagan’s past. With Judge McCleary’s order, he obtained the lumberman’s bank records from the last six months. Everything seemed fairly ordinary until he discovered a cheque written out to ‘bearer’ that was dated two weeks before Molly’s death. Turning over the document, ‘M. Carnes’ was clearly written as the endorsement.
The sheriff stared at the bank note, his heart sinking. Reagan had unmistakably omitted this information when he had been questioned. The cheque itself contradicted Reagan’s story of his acquaintance with Molly being based on happenstance. He realized how damaging this would look to a jury. Even to him, it looked awfully damning.
At the Burnsfield home, Jim waited in the parlor while a maid announced his arrival. He had just lowered himself onto a chair when Katherine entered, causing him to bolt to his feet. “Mrs. Burnsfield,” he said, taking her hand. “So good of you to see me.”
“It’s always a pleasure, Jim,” Katherine said. “Is there something I can do for you?”
“I’m afraid I’ve come on official business, Mrs. Burnsfield. I need to speak with Reagan again about Molly Carnes. It’d be best if he came to my office.”
It took several dreadful moments before she found her voice. “How can this be? I know Reagan didn’t do this.”
“I’m sorry.” Sheriff Hadley loathed his job at this moment. “There’s some evidence that I want Reagan to clarify.”
“Can you tell me what it is?” she asked. “Perhaps I can be of some help.”
“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say.”
Katherine stiffened at the sound of the front door. “Well, Sheriff, it sounds like one of my men has arrived.” She threaded a hand through his arm. “Let’s do what needs to be done.”
As they entered the hall, she spied Reagan halfway up the stairs. “Reagan, dear…”
Something in her voice caused Reagan to turn abruptly. “Oh, hello Jim,” he said, descending the steps. “Is everything all right?”
“Jim needs you to go with him,” Katherine said before directing her next words to the sheriff. “However, I hope you’ll let us have supper first.”
“Of course,” he said.
“I expect you to dine with us as well, Jim.”
“That’s not necessary, Mrs. Burnsfield.”
“Nonsense. I’m going to place another setting. Thomas should be along any moment and I think it important you explain everything to him.”
“What is it?” Reagan asked, sensing Jim’s discomfort. “Have you found anything?”
“I have a few questions that need answering,” Hadley said with a level look. “I believe you’ll be better served if we wait until reaching my office to answer them.”
“Sure,” Reagan said, thumping Jim’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s have one last meal as friends before you present your evidence.”
Chapter Eighty-Six
Sam Hampton had not missed the oft-repeated gossip about Reagan and Molly Carnes. Though he felt the lumberman was being unfairly accused, the mayor also enjoyed a good story, especially while partaking a sumptuous meal. “As I was saying…”
“Papa, please!” Elizabeth said. “Must you bring up that subject while we’re eating? If you don’t cease, you’re going to make me retch!”
Sam’s fork stopped in mid-air. “My dear, you look positively green.” He picked up the wine bottle. “Here, this should help settle your stomach.”
The liquid seemed to mesmerize Elizabeth as he filled her tumbler. “Now, where was I? Oh yes,” he said. “They finally buried the poor lass with her father blubbering the whole time about how it was Reagan that done her in.” Stuffing a piece of ham in his mouth, grease dribbled down his chin. “Just think, we’ve had Reagan at our table. Why, for all we know, we could’ve been entertaining a murderer.”
Elizabeth lifted her wine glass with shaky fingers. Though she sipped many times, the sweet elderberry did nothing to sooth her upset stomach. When she spied oil droplets on her father’s chin, her insides rebelled. She dropped her fork and rushed from the room, a napkin over her mouth.
Sam followed his daughter to a hall closet where she was bent over a bucket, gagging. “Are you ill, child?”
“Leave me alone, Father!” She dropped the pail and pushed past him. “I need to lie down.”
“Perhaps, I should send for a doctor. It’s not like you to be indisposed.” He trailed her to the stairway, watching her go upstairs. “I would think he’d have a cure for whatever’s ailing you.”
Elizabeth stopped outside her room. “I don’t need a doctor. Just send up Maggie with some broth.” With that, she shut her door.
With each passing day, Elizabeth had grown more uneasy. She recalled one of the maids having a similar malady when she was still a child. When she’d asked if the maid was going to die, the servant had laughed and told her it was nature’s way of letting a woman know she was having a blessed event. With the rounding of the maid’s belly, Elizabeth finally realized the servant was going to have a baby. If this was so, then truly she had fallen into a trap of her own making.
Nightly, Elizabeth pleaded with God to take her condition away and she’d never again meddle where she didn’t belong. Daily, her prayers remained unanswered.
Lying across her bed, she considered what recourses she had left. She could hide the truth temporarily, but eventually she’d show the results of her folly. Surely, God wouldn’t allow her to be punished in such a cruel manner! She hoped that if she prayed hard enough, he would save her from this worst of sins.
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