Stella finally stood up from her seat, her legs cramped after hours of sitting in one position. She had a long walk home, and no longer felt safe walking alone in the dark. With the cat-calls and hoots that had been sent her way, she wouldn’t put anything past the men who had once been her friends.
She cared little for her own welfare, but she still couldn’t risk anything happening to her that would hamper her ability to help Christopher. He had no one but her on his side, and she had no intention of abandoning him. Tomorrow, she would take Grover and visit him in the jail cell that had been built in the bottom of the town hall. She’d bring him some baked goods just as she had in Menemsha. She’d make sure he knew he wasn’t alone.
And, above all else, she’d figure out a plan to get him free.
****
Stella was exhausted by the time she returned to the home she had lived in her entire life and now despised. The house reeked of Josiah, and she couldn’t even look at her kitchen without feeling the blows he had so brutally rained on her face.
As she had done nearly every night since Josiah’s death, she retreated to his office and, ignoring the blood stains that remained on the floor, sat at his desk. She turned everything she had seen and been told about what happened over in her mind while desperately trying to figure out who had really killed her husband and framed Christopher.
Josiah’s safe and medicine chest had been untouched, and the police had ruled out robbery as a motive. And there had been no signs of forced entry into the Winslow home. The sheriff had made it clear that he had no reason to doubt that the note was authentic and that Christopher was in fact the killer.
Stella knew that there was only one person besides herself and Christopher who knew that wasn’t true, and that was the person who had actually killed Josiah. And exactly what would make that person come forward and implicate themselves in such a crime?
Shaking her head, Stella knew the only hope of discovering the truth lay with her. But she had no idea how or where to start. As much as she now despised Josiah, she couldn’t deny that the man had been a good doctor who was well-liked among his neighbors and his patients. What reason would anyone have to kill him?
Stella got up from the desk and sank to the floor. Tears formed in the corner of her eyes, and fell like rain drops onto the wooden floorboards around her. She let out a deep breath and tried to find the energy to get up and retire to bed. There was nothing else she could do today.
She glanced at the stack of newspapers Josiah had always kept next to his desk. She was grateful that the stack of papers was old now, as there was no way she would want to read the current editions. She could only imagine the vitriol and hatred published about Christopher. She reached for one of the papers, desperate to return to a time before this nightmare started, if only in her mind, and inadvertently knocked several to the floor.
Stella felt her eyes once again well with tears as she saw the Boston Globe Christopher had brought her from Cottage City among the scattered papers. She picked it up in her hands and held it to her chest, remembering the night in the barn when Christopher had given it to her. She had read each word of the paper in the following days, starting with the story of the doctor who had committed suicide in Boston.
Stella stood up and, still cradling the paper, started to leave the room. As she got to the doorway, she stopped short, and the paper fell to the floor. Feeling lightheaded, Stella grabbed one of the chairs Josiah had kept for patients and sunk slowly into it.
She stared down at the paper and the story of the Boston doctor staring back at her. Could it be possible?
Stella heard Josiah’s harsh voice in her head as he’d tossed her outside on her porch and kicked her as if she was no better than a stray dog.
“I'm not finished yet, Stella. You'll see.”
It could definitely be possible and, more than that, Stella knew it was true. Stella knew now what had happened to Josiah. She knew who had killed her husband, and why. The answer was staring her in the face. It had been right here in her home all along.
****
Stella saddled Grover and climbed onto his back to make the journey to the Tisbury Town Hall and the jail cell in its basement. She could have made the trip on foot, but she always made sure to ride Grover when she visited Christopher. That way it wouldn’t be suspicious if anyone should happen to see her when she arrived for her final visit on horseback.
She had packed baked goods in the saddle bags that hung on Grover’s side, enough for both Christopher and whomever was guarding the cell during her visit. She also made sure to pack plenty of carrots for Grover. It calmed her nerves to be able to nuzzle the horse and feed him his favorite treat.
After arriving at the hall, Stella hitched Grover up to the post outside the building and gave him a carrot to tide him over until she returned. She walked inside and made her way to the basement, where she saw Zebediah Johnson sitting beside the door to the jail room. She knew she would find either Johnson or Jon Coffin standing guard over Christopher. They had made it their mission to be involved in the case since they had discovered Josiah’s body and played a role in capturing Christopher. It made no difference to Stella which one was on duty when she visited. She loathed them both equally.
“Good day to you, Mrs. Winslow,” Zebediah said, the customary sneer in his voice.
“And to you, Mr. Johnson.”
“What did you bring for us today?”
Stella removed a small loaf of sweet bread from her bag. “For you,” she said.
“That all? I don’t doubt you’ve got more in that bag for your boyfriend.”
“I’ve brought bread and cheese for Mr. Casey, if that’s who you’re referring to.”
Zebediah chuckled. “Oh, come on now Stella. What’s the point of playing games now? Everyone on the island knows what you’ve been up to with this mucker.”
Stella bristled at his use of her Christian name without her consent. The lack of respect her life-long neighbors now showed her became more glaring each day. She reminded herself that she didn’t really care. Her hatred of them far outshone any contempt they had for her.
“I’d like to visit with the prisoner now if there’s no objection, Mr. Johnson,” she said, keeping her voice steady.
“No objection on my end.” Johnson got up from his chair and yelled across the room at Christopher. “What about you, Mick? You object?”
Stella ignored him and walked to the cell and Christopher. She kept her gaze on him and forced her face into a smile.
“How are you today?” she asked.
“Much better now that you’re here.”
Stella pulled a nearby chair up to the cell and removed the food and a canteen of well water from her bag. “I’ve brought you lunch,” she said.
Christopher sat down on the floor of his cell and reached through the bars for the food and drink. “Thank you,” he said.
Stella chatted aimlessly about her trip into town and Grover’s carrot obsession until she was sure Zebediah had eaten his sweet bread and was no longer listening to her. She could see out of the corner of her eye that he was now leaning back against the wall with feet propped up on the stairs leading to the main floor. He had pulled his hat over his eyes and looked to be asleep. Still, Stella didn’t chance it, and kept her voice to a whisper.
“I’ve got everything arranged,” she said. “Grover and I will be here for you tomorrow night.”
Christopher’s eyes widened. “Really? I never dreamed it would be so soon.”
“I don’t know when they’re planning to transfer you to New Bedford. It could be any day now. We don’t have time to waste.”
“So what is your plan, Mrs. Winslow?”
Stella let out a deep breath and smiled at him. She didn’t want him to see any fear on her face. It would all work out, she was sure of it.
“I’ve found the bromides in Josiah’s medicine chest. I’ll put enough in the cake I make to sedate whichever reprobate is here g
uarding you.” She gestured with her eyes towards Zebediah. “I actually put a little in his cake today just to test it and look how he’s sleeping there.”
Christopher glanced at his guard. “He does seem to be out, doesn’t he?”
“He is,” Stella said. “And whichever one of them is here tomorrow will be too. I’ll bring the cake for him late in the afternoon and he’ll sleep for hours, I’ll make certain of that. I’ll come back for you as soon as it’s dark. I can take the key to the cell from your guard while he’s sleeping. Then we’ll ride Grover to Gay Head. Mr. Mayhew and the Indians will have a boat waiting for us.”
Christopher raised his eyebrows. “They’re willing to help me?”
“You know how fond Mr. Mayhew is of you. And the Indians don’t put much stock in islanders’ ideas of justice.”
Stella glanced over at Zebediah and turned back to Christopher. She slipped her hand through the bars and felt a sense of peace pass through her as he took her petite hand in his own. She knew her plan was going to work.
“We’ll take the Indians’ boat to Cottage City and slip onto one of the freight boats,” she said. “No one will notice us. We can hide in the hold. And I know it’s a short trip to the mainland. My father went to New Bedford once. He told me all about the trip when he returned.”
Christopher caressed her hand with his roughened fingers. “Are you sure you want to do this, Stella? If they catch us…”
“They won’t catch us,” Stella said firmly. “And yes, I’m sure.”
“I hate to put you at risk.”
“You’re not putting me at risk. I’m doing it to myself. And, what choice do I have, anyway? Do you expect me to just ignore the fact that I’m the reason you’re locked up here like an animal?”
“Don’t say that,” Christopher said, shaking his head. “You’re not to blame.”
“Of course I am. If not for me, you never would have been anywhere near my house when they found Josiah. You know it’s true, so don’t condescend to me by pretending it isn’t.”
Christopher couldn’t help but smile. “Yes ma’am.” He paused and let out a breath. “But they would have found me soon enough whether I’d been there at the house with you or not. Don’t blame yourself.”
“I shall blame myself. You wanted to run, Christopher. By the time those idiots found Josiah’s body we could have already been on a steamer to New Bedford.”
“Alright, lass. I know better than to argue with you.”
“Good.”
“And I know when it’s time to change a subject.” Christopher waved his hand around the small cell. “But I’m afraid there’s not much to talk about here in my new home.”
“We don’t have to talk,” Stella said as she caressed Christopher’s cheek through the bars she longed to snap in two. “We can just sit together.”
“We can, but I like the sound of your voice, love. I miss it when you’re not here.” He kissed Stella’s hand and turned his face towards hers. “So tell me. Since you know these islanders a damn sight better than I do, who do you think really killed Josiah?”
Stella remained silent, pondering whether or not to share her theory.
“What is it?” Christopher asked.
Stella let out a deep breath and dropped her voice to the softest of whispers. “I think he killed himself.”
Christopher couldn’t hide his surprise. “What? Why would he do that?”
“Because he was ill. There was something dreadfully wrong with him and he was in terrible pain, but he’d never admit that to me. Still, there was no doubt of it.”
Christopher thought back to his trip to Cottage City to pick up Josiah’s medication orders. “Mrs. Luce told me he was ordering more pain medications than normal,” he said. “More laudanum, I suppose.”
Stella nodded. “Indeed he was. I’ve found a large supply stashed in one of his desk drawers. I plan to add some to my bromide cake.”
“Still though. Even if the man was ill, do you really think he would shoot himself in the chest?”
“Why not, if he was dying anyway? Maybe the pain had become unbearable and he couldn’t live with it anymore.” Stella paused and bit her lip.
“What is it?” Christopher asked.
“When Josiah beat me, he told me he wasn’t done. It was a warning, I know it. He was saying that he wasn’t done hurting me. I think he wrote the note that framed you to hurt me. He didn’t want me to be happy with you.”
“He thought you wanted to be with me?”
“He did.” Stella raised her green eyes to Christopher’s. “And he was right about that.”
“And he was right that I wanted to be with you too.” Christopher raised Stella’s hand to his face and brushed his lips against it. “My cailín álainn.”
“You never did tell me what that means.”
“Beautiful girl,” Christopher said.
Stella blushed and brought his own hand to her lips to kiss it.
Christopher glanced around at the bars of his cell and the basement jail. “But look at us now. If you’re right about Josiah’s plan, I’d say he won, wouldn’t you?”
“No I would not,” Stella said. “I’ve told you my own plan and I shan’t let it fail. I’ve got all the money from Josiah’s safe and we’ll be on our way to Savannah before you know it.”
Christopher smiled and leaned back against the wall of the cell, holding Stella’s hand in his lap. “That would be lovely.”
“Not would be. It will be.”
Christopher kissed her fingers one by one. “It will be. You’re right.”
“No one will know us there. We’ll be free of all of this.”
“You’ve convinced me. But I do have one question for you,” Christopher said.
“What is it?”
“What shall become of Grover? I’m quite fond of him, I have to say.”
Stella smiled. “Mr. and Mrs. Mayhew are going to take care of him. I couldn’t just abandon him.”
Christopher nodded. “I’m glad to hear that. He’s a fine horse.”
“He’s the only thing left on this island that means anything to me.”
“Probably time for you to leave us, Mrs. Winslow,” Zebediah yelled from his chair.
Stella jumped at the harsh sound of his voice, startled that the man was apparently not sleeping as she had assumed. She had nearly forgotten he was in the room. But still, he couldn’t possibly have heard her talking; she’d made sure of that. She quickly pulled her hand from Christopher’s and stood up from her chair.
“Of course. I’ll be on my way, Mr. Johnson.”
Stella cleared her throat and stole a last glance at Christopher. “Tomorrow,” she mouthed.
Christopher nodded and blew her a kiss. “Tomorrow,” he mouthed in return.
Stella walked out of the basement and ascended the stairs without looking at Zebediah Johnson. She failed to notice the smirk on his face as he watched her leave the room.
****
Stella paced around her kitchen as she waited for evening to arrive. She’d delivered her precious cake filled with sedatives to Jon Coffin at the jail a few hours earlier and she had no doubt he was now sleeping soundly at his post. She only needed darkness to get Christopher out of the jail without attracting attention.
She imagined the two of them riding Grover through the woods to Gay Head on a path she’d known since she was a child and used to walk to the cliffs with her mother. She felt a rush of adrenalin and took a deep breath to calm her nerves and slow her rapidly beating heart. She couldn’t let herself panic. She’d run through every detail of her plan more times than she could count, and now all she had to do was set it in motion.
Trying to steady her nerves, Stella thought of the life she and Christopher would have in Savannah. She imagined a new house near the sea and a plot of land where she could raise sheep while he worked at the nearby docks. Perhaps she would even be able to have the children she longed for and had so far been unabl
e to carry. She was still young and had plenty of childbearing years ahead of her and she felt certain her problems would end now that she was no longer trapped with Josiah. She and Christopher could have three or maybe even four children, and a dog to snuggle at the children’s feet while she read to them each night. She would be surrounded by family and would never feel alone again. Everything would be better once she was away from this island that had become such a source of pain for her.
The sun finally disappeared into the sky, and Stella left the home she had lived in for her entire life. She felt no regret as she closed the door behind her for the last time. The love she’d once felt in the home had long since disappeared. She climbed on top of Grover with her one bag of belongings swung over her shoulder and rode off towards the Tisbury town hall.
Stella knew something was wrong as soon as she and Grover reached the hall. The door to the hall was hanging open and Jon Coffin sat outside on the porch, nowhere near his post in the basement. Worse, he was wide awake and clearly not under the influence of any sedative. Stella saw her cake broken into pieces on the ground next to him. Next to the cake an unlit torch sparked on the grass, its embers still burning even though its flame had been extinguished.
“Back so soon, Mrs. Winslow?” Jon said, tipping his hat in mockery.
Stella dismounted and tied Grover to the post. “What’s happened?” she asked. “Why aren’t you at your post?”
“No need for me to be. No one for me to guard down there.”
Stella’s stomach turned over and she could taste bile rising in her throat. She walked towards the hall and broke into a run as she reached the top of the stairs and saw the basement door hanging wide open.
“Christopher?” she called out.
She heard Jon laughing behind her as she ran down the steps. “You’re not going to find him down there, you stupid girl. I told you, no one’s there.”
Stella’s blood pounded in her ears as she entered the basement and saw the empty cell in the corner.
The Ghosts of Aquinnah Page 14