He had been standing with his back to her, and when he turned, the rage was still there, but she could see that he was controlling it.
"All right, yes, what is it?" he said distractedly.
Zeph had stepped back into the hall where he stood watching Gerard's every move.
"It's about your father's factory," Glynis said, aware that by asking she risked another outburst, but she needed to know. "When Roland Brant foreclosed, did he give any indication what the building would be used for?"
"Not to me," Gerard said, his voice tight but steadier than Glynis had expected. "Why are you asking?"
"When did Roland Brant actually take possession of it?"
"Four months ago."
"So... early February of this year?"
"Yes! Why, what does it matter?"
"Because it's located across the canal from my library, and it occurred to me earlier today that I've never seen much activity over there."
"Could be it's standing empty," Gerard said bitterly. "Roland Brant just took pleasure in grinding people under his heel."
***
Standing with Zeph outside Cullen's office, Glynis looked across the canal at the stone warehouse.
"Zeph, do you think Gerard Gagnon is a killer?"
"If he's not, he does a pretty good impression of one!"
"Perhaps. But rage doesn't necessarily lead to violent action. I suppose you have to tell Cullen about that incident back there?"
"Yes."
"Of course," Glynis sighed. "Well, for what it's worth, it was my fault. I brought up something almost certain to make Gerard, or anyone, enraged. And he didn't try to attack me. Or you either, Zeph."
"I had a gun."
"So did that bounty hunter."
Zeph scuffed at some loose dirt with the toe of his boot, and then said, "Yeah, but Gagnon knew my gun was already loaded.
Glynis, shaking her head, sighed again. And thought that before much more time passed, someone should take a look at that warehouse.
25
FRIDAY
Over 3,000 men from Seneca County took part in the [Civil] War and many branches of the services were represented. Companies A, C, and K of the New York 33rd were comprised of men from Seneca County, most of them from Seneca Falls and Waterloo.
—From Seneca County History, edited by Betty Auten
Glynis finished dressing by slipping into a pale green muslin frock, then went to open her bedroom curtains. Clouds like mounds of white popped corn moved across a bright morning sky on what was surely the last day Emma could make a decision about whether the wedding would take place. But if she called it off, it was too late to reach those out of town; her father and brothers would have already caught the train from Springfield, Illinois. Glynis herself had been too tired to lie awake all night worrying. Though she had stared at the moon-streaked ceiling of her bedroom and fretted for some time about maidens Emma and Bronwen and Tamar. At least when sleep came, it had been sound.
She left her room and on the way to the stairs heard hammering, as well as several male voices coming from the direction of the Usher house next door. Glynis stepped to the hall window and looked out. The Usher grounds had taken on the appearance of a fairyland. The flowering trees, standing like mannequins dressed in voluminous pink-and-white ruffled petticoats, encircled an open area of grass sprinkled with white violets. In the center of the grassed circle, what looked to be a latticed arch some eight or nine feet high was being constructed with supple poplar slats. Vanessa, resplendent in a scarlet gown, stood directing the production. Pastel shades of the tree blossoms, shrubs, and flower beds resembled the lovely misty landscapes of Oneida County artist Charlotte Coman, but it was the color of Vanessa's gown that drew Glynis's eyes like moths to a flame.
A half-formed image rose in her mind, but before it could take shape, she was distracted by movement below. Only then did she see the two figures who stood close together among the pines growing between the Usher and Peartree properties. While the couple might have taken pains to remove themselves from Vanessa's view, they must have forgotten the Peartree windows. Or perhaps, Glynis smiled, they were too involved to think of anything other than each other. When the two merged in an embrace, she backed away from the window and took her time descending the stairs.
After she had walked out the front door and around the house, she signaled her approach with an overly hearty "Good morning!"
Emma gave a start, but Adam, as if she might slip away like Cinderella at midnight, kept one arm locked around her waist. If Glynis had any remaining doubt, her niece's radiant face confirmed there would be a wedding on the morrow.
"Good morning, Aunt Glynis." Emma greeted her in joyous voice. "Just see what Adam has brought me."
Adam stood grinning at Glynis as Emma handed her what looked like a slim volume of bound gilt-edged pages. Its maroon leather cover announced in gold embossed letters that here was a copy—albeit a very expensive one—of New York State's Chapter 90 law. Glynis experienced an odd prickle of deja vu, but did not let on that she had just recently become acquainted with some of this document.
"A highly unique and stylish wedding present, Adam, I must say," Glynis commented with a smile.
"I thought you'd approve, Aunt Glynis," answered Adam, and Emma gave a delighted laugh.
"She is your Aunt Glynis now, isn't she," Emma said to him, "or almost." She moved to stand beside Glynis, lifted the title page and pointed to Section 1. "Look, Aunt Glyn, there it is!"
Glynis read the entire section which began by stating, in effect, that any property of a woman, no matter how she came by it, shall, notwithstanding her marriage, be and remain her sole and separate property and may be used, collected and invested by her in her own name; and shall not be subject to the interference or control of her husband.
"It's all there in black and white—and gold," Emma sighed. "I am just so happy!" She gave Adam a smile laced with love. "And just look at what Miss Usher has done," she said to Glynis, turning toward fairyland. "Have you ever, ever, seen anything like it?"
Glynis could truthfully say that she had not. "When are your father and brothers arriving?" she asked.
"Papa's telegram said four this afternoon—Adam and I will meet the train. They'll be staying at Carr's Hotel, and so will...everybody!" Emma exclaimed with a breathless, child-like excitement, as if she were just now beginning to enjoy the prospect of her wedding. "And Cousin Kathryn sent a wire from New York City saying her train arrives at five. This is going to be such wonderful fun!"
Glynis, smiling at Emma's infectious joy, hoped against hope that she wouldn't inquire after her cousin Bronwen. Perhaps a change of subject was needed.
"Adam, do you expect to see Gerard Gagnon today?" Glynis asked.
"I talked to Cullen first thing this morning," he said. "Told him I didn't want to spend the day before my wedding preparing a writ of habeas corpus, but I would if necessary. Cullen said I needn't bother. He'll not press the other charges. He does, though, have cause to hold Gagnon a while longer on suspicion of Roland Brant's murder. And I can't do a thing about that."
Emma seemed not to notice these asides, perhaps because she was entranced by watching huge sprays of fragrant, mock orange blossoms being carried across the Usher yard. They would probably be used to decorate the nearly completed arch.
She turned to Glynis, who was backing away toward the Peartree kitchen and the smell of coffee—but not fast enough. "Aunt Glyn, where's Cousin Bronwen?" she asked. "I didn't see her at all yesterday."
Glynis supposed she could tell Emma that her cousin was off ballooning for the United States Treasury Department, but it would sound too bizarre to be believable.
"I would guess," she answered, "that Bronwen is busily flying around to complete some unfinished tasks. I imagine she'll appear any time now."
One could do no more than hope.
***
After she stopped at the library to reassure Jonathan that she would at
some time actually return to work there, Glynis went to the lockup, where she again found only Zeph in Cullen's office.
Predicting what Glynis would ask, he said "Dr. Cardoza-Levy is doing the Brant autopsy right now."
"Where is Constable Stuart?"
"Gone out to Tyre. Couple of men got knifed there last night in a tavern brawl."
"And Liam?"
"Up the river a ways. Some canal worker reported a stolen mule."
"So you're the only one here."
"I'm it. Why?" Zeph asked, giving her a searching look; searching until it turned suspicious. "You planning to do something?" He regarded her now with an expression that verged on alarm.
"Nothing that need concern you," Glynis said firmly.
It was essential that she go to the Brant house, and what with her family arriving later in the day, she needed to do it now. With a rented carriage, she could leave and return before anyone missed her.
***
It was only a short time later when the buggy from Boone's Livery jounced up the Brants' gravel drive. Glynis slowed the gray mare when ahead of her she heard voices, pounding noises, and the clatter of a wagon. Surely, she prayed, that wagon could not be coming toward her down the narrow drive. She listened for a minute and realized it sounded too far away. But what was going on at the house? Only one way to learn, she decided, and urged the mare forward.
Cullen would not approve her doing this alone, but since there was no one available to go with her, she had little choice. Not if she were to locate what she needed before it was found by someone else. If that hadn't already been done. But she relied on her belief that no one but she—she and Tamar—would know of it.
The buggy rounded the last curve of drive, and when Glynis looked ahead at the Italianate house, it was clear that she could not have picked a worse time. A two-horse dray wagon, on the side of which was painted property of seneca county, stood in front of the porch steps. Two men were stringing a rope between wooden stakes that another two men were pounding into the ground. They were apparently intending this rope barrier to surround the house.
Glynis, puzzled and somewhat apprehensive, pulled the mare to a stop. It was crucial that she gain access to the house unnoticed, but how could she with the men there? And now she recognized the burly frame and iron-gray hair of the Seneca County sheriff, Matt Fowler. He was standing on the porch, leaning against a pillar. His presence further complicated things, for she recalled he had the eyesight of an eagle.
She sat revising her original plan until her curiosity became too strong to contain a second longer. After climbing from the buggy, she lifted out of it a large, empty wicker basket, then tethered the mare to a fence post and walked to the house, carrying the basket by its curved handle.
"Morning, Miss Tryon."
"Good morning, Sheriff Fowler," she answered, looking up at him from the foot of the steps. "I fear I've come at an inconvenient time."
"Depends what you've come for," said Fowler, chewing on a stalk of field grass.
"May I ask what's happened?"
"Well, you come on up here, Miss Tryon, and I'll show you."
She climbed the steps with misgiving, expecting that Erich, or even Konrad, would come hurtling through the doorway, demanding that she leave their property. She had anticipated that, however, and had an excuse ready. What she had not anticipated was the sign at which Sheriff Fowler was pointing. Nailed to the front door, it read: Notice of levy and attachment, by order of the Seneca County Sheriff. Beneath was scrawled Matt Fowler's signature.
"I'm afraid I don't understand," she said, thoroughly bewildered because she knew the general meaning of the notice.
"I'm impounding Roland Brant's property. Seizing it at the direction of a creditor."
Glynis could hardly believe it, but she knew Fowler too well to think he was joking.
"You look surprised," he said, "but not any more than I'll bet I did. It's a shock, right?"
"Yes! Yes, it certainly is, Sheriff. A creditor, you said. Someone to whom Roland Brant owed money?"
Fowler took her arm and marched her back down the steps and a short distance from the house, before he said quietly, "It seems Mr. Roland Brant left quite a few people unpaid. Substantially unpaid. You might give your friend Constable Stuart that piece of news"—his voice dropped even lower—"since I know he's got a murder investigation on his hands. But you've earned a reputation yourself in that area."
His smile didn't seem to be mocking her. He would probably even answer more questions, but Glynis was so stunned by this turn of events that she could barely think of one to ask.
"Sheriff, does the levy include all the property of Roland Brant?"
"All of it. I have a levy against his personal property and his interests in any realty."
"But that wouldn't include Mrs. Brant's...that is, Mrs. Helga Brant's dower interest, would it?"
"No, you're right, Miss Tryon. Can't include that."
Glynis nodded, trying to see how this latest irregular piece might fit into the puzzle of Brant's death.
"Heard there was a confession to Brant's murder," remarked Fowler. "That true?"
"It was a tainted confession, Sheriff, and extremely unlikely to stand."
"That so? Hadn't heard that. So, why are you here today?" He eyed the basket. "A social call?"
"Ah, yes, more or less. The family members are here, aren't they?"
"Not all of them, but—"
"Sheriff Fowler?" The call came from one of his men. "Sheriff, can you come over here?"
"Excuse me, Miss Tryon," he said and walked toward the newly strung barrier, where men were fastening to the rope a number of flags bearing the same message as the notice on the door. The sheriff clearly meant business.
While Glynis couldn't begin to guess what the implications of this seizure might be, she decided that nothing had altered her purpose in coming here. She strolled toward the porch, but went on past the steps and around a corner of the house. Once she was beyond sight of Sheriff Fowler, she moved more deliberately, hoping that one of the family inside was not looking out a window. She was taking a chance by trespassing, but she needed to confirm Tamar's story before she related it to Cullen. And she assumed attention would be focused on the sheriff's activities.
She slowed when she saw the small square of glass that was the window of Tamar's room. Just beyond it was the glass-paned door of Roland Brant's library.
She went along the house wall and edged up beside the door. Humidity had caused condensation to form on the panes and the sun hadn't reached it yet. From where she stood, the moisture made it difficult to see into the library. If she moved any closer, she would be visible if anyone were inside, but the risk must be taken. She stepped forward and put her face to the glass with her hands cupped around her eyes like blinders.
The desk on the Persian rug faced the room's inner door to the hall. From Glynis's current vantage point, Tamar would have been able to see Roland Brant's body to this side of the desk. Especially if the door had been open. A casual passerby would probably not. Which lent some credence to the family and staff's assertion that the body had not been discovered until hours after his death. And Tamar had also said that in her fright she could have inadvertently pushed this outside door closed.
Glynis took a step back, and saw her face mirrored in the panes of glass as if through wavering water, an illusion created by the streaks of condensation. Last Monday morning there had not only been mist but fog as well, so the reflection effect could have been even more pronounced. Which meant a deluded, panic-stricken girl might well have later imagined that she had seen herself standing over the corpse of her tormentor.
Glynis turned and went back around the house. She intended to enter by way of the kitchen, though by this time she had not much hope of doing it without being seen. To her relief, she reached the door unchallenged. It was not latched, and when Glynis stepped into the kitchen, the first thing she noticed was the smell of pot ro
ast. Addie sat at the table shelling peas. She glanced up at Glynis with no more reaction than if she had been fully expecting her to appear.
"You again," she stated, cracking open a pod and expertly running her thumb down the length of it, letting the peas drop like green beads into a wooden bowl.
"Yes, as you see." Glynis, holding up the wicker basket, explained, "I've come to collect Tamar Jager's things."
"Guess she won't be coming back here," Addie said, her square, brown face without expression.
"I think that's a safe guess."
"You hear the news?" Addie asked.
Glynis assumed she meant the property seizure. "Yes, I just saw the sheriff."
"Sheriff?" Addie echoed with a frown. "What's the sheriff got to do with it?"
"Got to do with what?" Glynis asked in confusion.
Addie reached for more pea pods. "With Mr. Konrad's going."
"Mr. Konrad's going...where?"
"He's gone to war, that's where."
Glynis felt her knees weaken, and she lowered herself into a chair opposite Addie. "Konrad Brant has left town? When?"
"Left for the train station more'n an hour back. Went to catch up with his company. Said the other men already left here a few days ago."
"Konrad belongs to a militia company?" Glynis said, before her memory belatedly brought back the bright metal flag on his lapel. His elaborate toast to the Union.
Addie nodded matter-of-factly. "Been joined up for some weeks."
"But...why...why would he leave now?" Glynis stammered. "His father hasn't even been buried yet."
"All I know is that Mr. Konrad, he said word come that in the next couple days his company's heading on down to Washington. To protect the President, he said."
"Didn't his mother or brother try to keep him here for the funeral?" asked Glynis, although perfectly aware that patriotism had become an overriding passion in the minds of many young men.
Must the Maiden Die Page 26