by Bill Bright
“I pay you to remove people who are a threat to me.”
Epps glared at him for a minute, then must have thought better of debating the point. “When we finally caught up with the boy, he’d inserted himself into a family, making it harder to reach him. Harder still because of the town. I tell you, something strange and unnatural was going on in that town.” Epps shuddered. “It was thick…oppressive…know what I mean?”
“No. Continue.”
“Eliminating them in Rome proved to be impossible. There were too many people in the streets at the oddest hours. I had to think of a way to flush Asa and the boy out. So I had myself a religious conversion at one of their prayer meetings.”
“You what?”
“It was necessary. I had to assume that when Asa found the boy, the boy told him about me. So I knew Asa wouldn’t trust me anymore. Well, if there’s one thing that crowd likes more than anything else, it’s a broken sinner. So I gave them one. Did it in front of the whole town. Didn’t give him a chance to talk to me there, to counsel me…or whatever it is they do. So now, when Asa sees me, he won’t be afraid of me. You see, I’m a converted sinner—a brother. His guard will be down.”
“But why Cumberland? It’s too risky. Why not on the road?”
Epps narrowed his eyes. “It wasn’t risky until I found out you’d already buried him!” Then, in a calmer tone, he added, “Anyway, that was the plan at first. But then Asa joined up with this family all the way to Harrisburg and from there met up with a couple of men. I was going to kill all three of them, but then I got to thinking it would be better here, even more so after what you just told me.”
“Better? I don’t see it.”
Epps expelled a sigh of forced patience, the kind a teacher might use on a dumb student.
Cyrus Gregg didn’t like it.
“Suppose someone were to find their remains. How would you explain the two fresh graves in the churchyard?”
Gregg had to concede that Epps had a point.
“Here,” Epps said, indicating the casket shop, “we have the resources to dispatch of their remains where no one will find them.”
The woodsman had thought it through. Gregg had to give him that much. But that didn’t mean Epps was off the hook. He should have killed Asa and the boy weeks ago.
“Tell me your plan.”
Epps nodded. A slight smirk crossed his face, as if he were pleased Gregg was with him to this point. “The first place Asa will go is to his house. As soon as I leave here, I’ll go to his house, dispatch his wife, and wait for him.”
“No!” Gregg jumped out of his chair.
Epps frowned.
Cyrus Gregg didn’t care. “I’ll take care of Cam—of his wife. You’re not to touch her, do you understand?”
From his expression Epps understood. In fact, he understood more than Gregg wanted him to understand.
“This is what we’ll do,” Gregg said, taking charge. He’d had enough of Epps’s bumbling. “Go around to the shop and tell the head shop boy that I want him to stack the six caskets that are against the south wall in the alley. Don’t let him give you any excuses. Tell him I want those six caskets in the alley before he goes home or he’ll be inspecting one of them tomorrow from the inside. Then ride out to Asa’s house. His wife won’t be there—”
“How—”
“Never mind how!” Gregg snapped. “If she’s there, wait for her to leave before entering the house. Do you understand? Under no circumstances are you to have any contact with her.”
Epps nodded, but he clearly didn’t like what he was hearing.
“When Asa arrives, do whatever you need to do to get him to come to the back alley. Take one of the caskets. You can transport him in it, if you need to. But no blood. Do you understand? I don’t want any blood at his house. It will raise suspicion. We will take care of that in the alley. Then we’ll load the other five caskets onto the wagon. That way we can transport his body and it will look like one of my deliveries. Do you understand?” It was Cyrus Gregg’s turn to adopt the role of the impatient teacher.
From Epps’s expression, he didn’t like it any more than Gregg did.
“You are not to deviate from this plan,” Gregg ordered. “Now, what about the boy—Daniel?”
Epps was grinding his teeth. He stopped long enough to say, “The boy didn’t leave with his uncle, but hewill come back to Cumberland.”
“How do you know?”
“I told you. I make my living by knowing what my prey will do even before they know it.”
“When will he come?”
“Days. A week. I can’t say for sure. All I know is that he’ll come, and I’ll be waiting for him. I assume you have a casket he can use?”
Cyrus Gregg ignored Epps’s insolent tone. “You’d better be right about this.”
“I always am.”
“All right.” Given the time factor, Gregg didn’t have any other choice. “Go. There’s a wagon out back.”
Epps stood. The tension between them was electric. Gregg insolated himself against it with a stern expression and clenched fists. He walked Epps to the office door and shut it behind him.
As soon as the door was closed, he rushed to his desk, pulled out a sheet of paper, and began writing.
“Heinrich!” he bellowed.
His skinny secretary made an instant appearance. “Yes sir?”
Cyrus Gregg ignored his secretary and continued writing until he had finished the note. Then, after folding it, he shouted again, “Heinrich!”
Next to him, the secretary jumped.
“Take this to Mrs. Rush,” Gregg ordered. “Make sure she understands that I need the pie within the hour, as soon as she can get it to my house.”
“But sir, it takes longer than an hour to bake a pie.”
“Do I look stupid to you?” Gregg shouted. “The pie is already made! All you have to do is see that she takes it to my house. Better yet, go with her. Stay with her and make sure she gets to the house safely.”
“Sir, why don’t I pick up the pie and deliver it myself? That way we wouldn’t have to trouble Mrs.—”
“Just do what I say!” Gregg bellowed. “See that the pie and Mrs. Rush are at my house within the hour, or you will be looking for another job. And I assure you, with my recommendation, the only job you’ll get is shoveling horse manure. Am I making myself clear?”
“Yes sir!” Heinrich took the note and stumbled all over himself to get out of the office.
Alone in his office, Cyrus Gregg noticed his hands were shaking. What had started out as a day of promise had turned into a nightmare, thanks to the inept Epps.
Walking around to the business side of his desk, Gregg opened a drawer. He removed a small pistol and loaded it.
Chapter 41
Epps slouched in the wagon, reins in hand. He kept a sharp watch on the Rush house. Two figures passed alternately in front of the windows. One female. One male.
He recognized the male as Cyrus Gregg’s secretary. The woman he’d never seen before. Had to be Asa’s wife.
At the sight of the woman Asa loved, warm feelings rose within Epps—feelings based on memories of conversations with Asa on the road to Syracuse.
Epps killed them off. He had no feelings now.
As much as he hated to admit it, Gregg was right, though Epps would never admit it to the dandified casket maker. He’d botched this assignment badly. He’d let his feelings override his instincts.
That would be remedied shortly.
The front door opened. Gregg’s man and the woman stepped from the house. Epps watched as the skinny secretary assisted her into a carriage and they drove off.
It would be a mistake to let her live. Gregg’s feelings for her were jeopardizing business.
Epps flicked the reins. The horse responded, pulling the wagon from behind the bushes that had provided cover. Epps steered toward the back of the barn. Best to keep the wagon out of sight.
A folded tarp
was in the back of the wagon. He thought Gregg’s suggestion of a casket an unwarranted risk. It drew too much attention to itself and from here on out, Epps was going to do things his way.
He cursed himself for letting things get out of hand with Asa and the boy. That wouldn’t happen again. After dispatching Asa, he’d come back tonight and take care of the wife. It was time Epps cleaned up his mess.
The woman’s death wasn’t a matter of revenge, nor was it a matter of sending a signal to Gregg, though it would serve that purpose. Her death was a necessity. Epps couldn’t risk Gregg’s emotional involvement with her. Neither could Gregg, but apparently he was blinded to that fact. Epps wasn’t. In fact, for the first time in weeks he saw things clearly.
Once the wagon was secured, Epps bounded up the front steps and through the front door. The aroma of warm blueberry pie greeted him.
He scanned the interior. A parlor with a fireplace to the left. Dining table to the right with an open doorway to the kitchen. In front of him stairs to the second floor.
Gregg said the house would be empty. Epps would check for himself. He wanted no surprises. He moved methodically from room to room, his long coat swishing as he walked. He took note of everything.
The neatness of the rooms. The access to knives and other potential weapons in the kitchen. The pantry. Closets. Windows and the terrain outside. Once he was upstairs, baking smells gave way to powders and perfume in the master bedroom. Outside the window of the second bedroom, presumably the boy’s, a tree had been cut down.
Not only did the house look empty, it sounded empty. Satisfied, Epps made his way downstairs. He sat in the parlor on a small sofa that faced the front windows. From here, he could monitor Asa’s arrival.
Next to the sofa was a Pembroke table with an open Bible. Epps picked it up. In the front it bore the owner’s name: Camilla Buel Rush.
There was an inscription.
My dearest Camilla,
In the face of life’s uncertainties, two things are certain:
God’s abundant grace and my everlasting love for you.
Asa Rush
Christmas, 1811
Turning the page, Epps came across the family record. There was a single entry on theBirths page—
Timothy Eli Rush, November 3, 1811
And a single entry on theDeaths page—
Timothy Eli Rush, November 3, 1811
Epps flipped through the Bible. In several places Camilla had recorded comments in the margins of the text. Epps ignored the printed text and read the handwritten comments, keeping one eye on the window for Asa’s arrival.
Home had never looked so good.
As the carriage rounded the final bend and the house came into view, an involuntary sigh escaped Asa’s lips. The sun was low in the sky, stretching the house’s shadow toward him like welcoming arms.
Asa felt gritty, bone-weary, hungry, and his leg ached something awful. All he wanted was a bath, a meal, and a hug from his wife—and not necessarily in that order.
She, of course, would want to talk. To hear everything that happened to him while he was away. To tell him of her experiences while he was gone. She would want to know all about Daniel. It was a conversation he wanted to have…only not tonight. He didn’t have the strength.
He wanted to climb into his own bed and sleep like the dead for a couple of days.
The carriage came to a stop in front of the house. Asa groaned as he climbed out. He told himself he should go straight into the barn and take care of the horse and carriage before he sat down, but he wasn’t listening.
He looked to the door as he retrieved his cane, expecting Camilla to come charging out of the door, but the front door remained closed. She must be in the kitchen or upstairs and didn’t hear him.
A serenity settled over him as he climbed the front steps. That comfortable peace a man feels nowhere else but home. He smelled blueberry pie and smiled as he opened the door.
But instead of Camilla…
“Robely!”
Epps sat on the sofa with an open Bible in his hands. “Hope you don’t mind me waiting for you here. Your wife said I could. She had to leave. Something about taking a pie to a sick friend.”
“Oh…” Asa tried not to show his disappointment. Not only was Camilla not here, but neither was the pie. “How did you know I would be home today?”
Epps set the Bible aside and stood. “Saw you on the road.”
“Why didn’t you join me? You know I would have welcomed your company.”
A knowing smile formed on Epps’s face.
“Truth be told, I was ashamed. Saw that you were in the company of good folks and didn’t want to put you in a spot where you felt you had to pretend you were my friend.”
“Robely! I’d never be ashamed of you.”
Epps looked away. “You don’t know what I’ve done.”
“Whatever it is, all that changed in Rome, the moment you—”
“And you don’t know Cyrus Gregg. He’s not your friend, Asa.”
Asa stepped farther into the room. He was too tired to be having this discussion.
“I need to set things right,” Epps said. “And I need to do it tonight. You can’t imagine the sleepless nights I’ve had since Rome. Asa, will you help me?”
Asa took a hard look at Epps. Camilla wasn’t at home. Maybe now would be the best time to do this. “What do you want me to do?”
“Come with me to Gregg’s place of business. That way he can speak for himself. But I’m telling you, I have to get this off my chest. I respect you, and I want to make things right by you.”
“Very well,” Asa said. “Let me leave a note for Camilla.”
He hobbled to a small cabinet and took out pencil and paper. Going to the dining room table, he set his cane aside and started to compose his note.
The blow to the back of Asa’s head didn’t knock him unconscious. He remembered hitting his forehead on the dining room table before passing out.
Chapter 42
A canvas shroud covered Asa. He tasted blood and dirt. His head felt like it would explode if he moved it. His cheek pressed against the ground.
Beyond the shroud he heard voices.
“You left the carriage at his house?”
“Don’t speak to me like I’m one of your shop boys! I know what I’m doing. First I’ll take care of the body. Then I’ll get rid of the carriage.”
Asa recognized both voices.
“What if someone sees it?” Cyrus Gregg asked. “Tell me you at least hid it in the barn!”
“You’re the one that got the woman out of the way,” Robely Epps said. “She won’t go back there, will she?”
“When I take care of something, it gets done,” Gregg insisted.
“Then what are you crying about?” Robely countered.
Asa heard what sounded like hollow wooden boxes being moved. He eased back the shroud—even the thought of sudden movement was painful—to see Cyrus Gregg and Robely Epps lifting opposite ends of a casket. They moved it from a vertical stack of a half-dozen caskets and lay it horizontally on the ground.
Asa recognized where he was—the alley behind Cyrus Gregg’s casket shop.
The movement of the shroud startled Cyrus. He dropped his end of the casket. Robely cursed at him for being clumsy.
Asa propped himself up on one arm. That was as far as he got before his head fell off…or at least felt like it did. He grabbed it and moaned.
Cyrus pointed at Asa as though he were some kind of critter. “Epps…Epps…Epps…”
“I see him.” Epps lowered his end of the casket. “He’s not going anywhere.”
“What’s going on here, Cyrus?” Asa asked. “Or is it better I not know? And Robely, am I mistaken, or did you clobber me on the back of the head in my own house?”
Cyrus backed away toward the mouth of the alley. “There’s no use in doing anything foolish, Asa. Just go quietly.”
Asa blinked back pain. “Am I going s
omewhere, Cyrus?”
Epps unsheathed his hunting knife.
“Oh,” Asa said.
“Now don’t make a mess like you did last time,” Cyrus told his killer.
“Are you doing this, or am I?” Epps said testily.
“You’re worried about getting my blood all over the alley, is that it?” Asa asked. “Here—maybe this will help.”
Instinctively he reached around for his cane. When he couldn’t find it, he used a nearby barrel to pull himself up.
Epps took a step toward him.
Asa backed him off with an upraised hand. “Patience, Robely.”
Epps kept a wary eye on him.
Reaching down, Asa snatched up the canvas tarp. He dragged it over to the casket and lifted the lid. With nothing fastening the lid to the body of the casket, it slid off to the opposite side with a clatter.
Bending over, Asa lined the casket with the tarp, smoothing it out on the bottom with his hands, draping the edges over the sides. When it was situated just right, he stepped into the casket and—grabbing the sides with his hands—lowered himself, first into a sitting position, then completely reclined.
“There,” he said. “Now when Robely cuts my throat, the canvas will catch the blood. No mess.”
Cyrus walked to the casket. “Your theatrics won’t make a difference this time, Asa,” he said with a sneer. “They may have worked in the past—dueling, guillotines, and the like—but you’re not dealing with weak, impressionable minds today.” Turning to Epps, he ordered, “Kill him.”
Peering up from inside the casket, Asa asked, “How many of these are you going to fill in order to get what you want, Cyrus?”
Cyrus Gregg stared down at him. “As many as it takes.”
Seeing the Rush house brought mixed feelings to Daniel. It reminded him of past battles and foretold of battles to come. Convincing Uncle Asa and Aunt Camilla of Cyrus Gregg’s well-disguised evil nature would not be easy. But it was something he had to do. He knew that now.
From Syracuse to Cumberland he’d thought of little else…Hannah being the exception. He had to admit he’d thought a lot about her. He’d prayed. He’d steeled himself for the battles ahead. And now he was ready. His uncle and aunt may not like what he had to tell them, but one way or another he was going to convince them for their own protection.