Turning the Tide

by Edith Maxwell

“Alas, no. She heard it rather than saw it, because the road is planked.”

  “Unfortunate.” He blinked as if it helped him think. “Maybe I should find out what transport our other suspects own and do a test drive-by with Mrs. Toomey listening.”

  “I like your idea. The Osgoods came to vote in a black runabout, and Oscar Felch drives a Parry phaeton. Zula has a green Bailey runabout.”

  “How might you know about all these vehicles now, Miss Rose?” Kevin cocked his head and cast a mock stern look at me.

  I pushed my glasses back up my nose. “After I talked to Catherine I paid a call on Oscar. The phaeton was harnessed to his horse in the drive as if someone was ready to go out or had just returned home. He had no guests visiting him, so it must have been his. And I saw Zula’s runabout at the end of Election Day. She invited a few of us to her home for refreshments. That’s how I know.”

  “Fine, then. Let me get those down.” He scribbled on a piece of paper, then glanced up. “Did you learn anything from your conversation with Mr. Felch?”

  I thought back. “He doesn’t get along with Rowena’s grandmother, a Mabel Roune. He asked me to tell him all the details of finding the body.”

  “I hope you didn’t oblige.”

  “I have learned from thee, Kevin.” I laughed. “No, of course I didn’t.”

  “What about Miss Goodwin? Are you sure it was safe to be having tea with her?”

  “I wasn’t alone, so it felt quite safe. And I should also have told thee what I learned Third Day evening. She said Rowena didn’t suffer fools lightly. So she might have had other enemies we don’t even know about.”

  Kevin let out a groan like a foghorn.

  “And when Bertie asked her if she was angry about Rowena not moving in with her, Zula said she was,” I added. “And then told us she didn’t kill her.”

  “We’ll see about that, Miss Rose.” He stood. “Yes, indeed. We’ll see about that.”

  twenty-eight

  While I was out, I decided to stop by the Mercantile and see if Catherine was working. Perhaps she had remembered another detail about the night of the murder. I was halfway down Main Street toward the square when a gray horse clopped up next to me and stopped. I glanced up to see Bertie grinning down at me, her fetching navy hat contrasting with her light hair underneath.

  “How goes the battle?” She threw her leg over Grover’s back and slid off.

  “Carefully,” I answered. I told her of my head injury and my subsequent escape.

  The smile slid off her face as fast as she’d dismounted. “Poor Rosetta. Should you be out and about so soon?”

  “I’m all right if I stay vertical and go slowly. And Kevin is on the case. I just came from the station.”

  “He’d better catch the scoundrel, and soon.”

  “I agree. What’s new with thee, my friend?” I shielded my eyes with my hand, as the sun glinted off a window at George Wendall’s barber shop across the road.

  “Not much. Think I’m going to have to rename my friend here Benjamin because of the election results?” She patted Grover’s withers.

  “I wouldn’t advise it. I dare say our ousted president might run again in four years.” A heavy wagon piled high with hay clattered by.

  “I wasn’t serious. Grover he was and Grover he’ll remain.” The horse snuffled and tossed his head as if he agreed. “Is your mother still about?”

  “Yes, she’s staying on for a bit. I’ll admit it was a great comfort to have her nearby yesterday. Even though I’m twenty-six, she’s still my mama.”

  When a shadow passed over Bertie’s face, I regretted mentioning Mother. My friend was estranged from her own mother, who lived just across the Merrimack River in nearby West Newbury. I’d never learned the reason for their split.

  “And David came by last evening to check on me and clean my wound,” I added.

  “Ah, the handsome doctor. You caught yourself a good one in that man, Rose.”

  “I know. I only hope I can keep him.”

  She scoffed. “You talking about the balderdash the old Quaker fishwife told you?”

  “Yes.” I sighed. “And she’s not a fishwife at all. She’s just following the rules.”

  “Entirely without imagination, too. Listen to Auntie Bert, now. We’ll figure something out. Don’t you worry.”

  I smiled at her. “Yes, ma’am, Auntie Bert.”

  “That’s better. I’d best be off. I’d offer you a ride on the back, but I’m not sure trotting on cobblestones would do you any good.”

  “I agree, but I appreciate the offer.”

  “You take good care, my friend.” She set her foot in the stirrup and hoisted herself into the saddle.

  “And thee as well.”

  A couple of minutes later I pulled open the door to Sawyer’s Mercantile, which sold seemingly anything and everything, from fabric to flour, tools to tonics. A few women shopped, and a stooped man in an Irish cap examined a selection of canes. I spotted Catherine at the counter and wove through an aisle crowded with things made of metal: tin cups, pewter pitchers, copper cooking pots, iron pokers. Faith’s friend Jasmine, who also worked at the Mercantile, was flicking the items on the top shelf with a feather duster.

  I greeted her. “Jasmine, what did thee think of the demonstration?” I asked with a smile.

  Her light eyes flashed under a fringe of black curls. “It was splendid, Miss Carroll. Simply splendid. Despite the violence, I took heart at all those older ladies standing up for our rights. I’ll be signing up for the next one, you can be sure.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  She glanced around and lowered her voice. “I want to be able to vote in the ’92 election. We have to change the way the world works!”

  “Indeed we do.” I made my way to the counter, still smiling at this new young convert to the cause.

  “Hello, Rose,” Catherine said with a rosy-cheeked smile. She took a second glance at me. “Are you all right? You’re looking rather peaked today.”

  “I had a bit of an accident yesterday.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it. We’ve plenty of tonics for sale.” She pointed to the glass-fronted cabinet on the wall behind her, which featured glass bottles with names like Dr. Powers’ Invigorating Elixir, Mrs. Winslow’s Soothing Syrup, Lloyd’s Cocaine Toothache Drops, and Hostetter’s Celebrated Stomach Bitters.

  “I thank thee for the suggestion, but I’ll be fine.” Most tonics contained high amounts of alcohol or other intoxicating substances. I’d found they had no real effect on health and I always advised my pregnant clients to avoid them.

  “Good. Now what can I do for you on this lovely morning?”

  “I’m afraid I’m not here to buy anything today.” I looked around before lowering my voice. “I wanted to ask if perhaps there was any new detail, no matter how small, you might have remembered from the night”—I spied the twins playing with dolls behind the counter—“about which we spoke.”

  She nodded slowly. “I did give my memory more thought, and I started listening more carefully as I watched carriages drive by ever since we talked. I’m sure it was a conveyance pulled by only one horse. The planks resound differently with two animals, as you can imagine.”

  “You’ve been very helpful. I thank thee, Catherine.”

  The bell on the door jangled. I turned to see Zula sweep in. She strode toward us bringing a cloud of scent with her.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Toomey, Miss Carroll.”

  We returned her greetings.

  “I need to pick up a vial of violet toilet water, but I also have a notice about the next Woman Suffrage Association meeting to be posted on the board.” She waved a piece of paper. “May I?”

  “Be my guest.” Catherine gestured across the large space toward the board where the store let members of the co
mmunity post news and personal advertisements. “There should be tacks to spare already in it.”

  “Thank you.”

  “When is the meeting, Zula, and is there an agenda?” I asked.

  “It’s tonight, and we will primarily be remembering Rowena.” Her voice faltered at the end.

  “I’ll try to be there,” I said. If I was up to it, that is. I gazed at her. Was this my attacker of yesterday? “How did thee pass yesterday’s snowstorm?”

  She stared at me and waited just a beat too long before answering. “What a question. I was indoors, of course. Where anyone with sense would be. Why, was there another murder? Will you be suspecting me in every one of your cases from now on?”

  “No, I—”

  “Did you think I didn’t notice? You and Bertie quizzing me at every opportunity.” She leaned in, with pain in her eyes, and lowered her voice to a whisper. “I loved Rowena, Rose. I never would have harmed her. Never.” She strode off to hang her notice.

  I watched her go, stunned. I was making enemies right and left. And she was grieving just like our family still grieved for Harriet. I’d been too harsh by half in my questioning. And yet I felt I had to do it. Had to get to the truth.

  “That’s poppycock about everyone with sense being indoors during a storm,” Catherine murmured, also watching Zula. “What about postmen and train workers and all the other people who work for a living? Plenty of folks don’t have the means to just hide indoors when the weather is inclement. It has nothing to do with sense. That’s an overprivileged lady right there.”

  “I might agree with thee.” Or maybe Zula wasn’t safe, dry, and warm in her fancy apartment. Perhaps instead she was arranging to deliver a malicious message and then lying in wait to beat me and leave me for dead.

  By the time I trudged up the hill toward home, I knew I’d done too much. My head pounded again and my vision was dim, like I peered through dirty glass. I should have listened to David. After the Mercantile I’d had to pay a postnatal visit to Emily to check on her and her baby. Fortunately for all of us, both mother and newborn thrived, and I’d only stayed for ten minutes.

  Now in the house, I greeted Mother before plodding to the easy chair in the sitting room. I sank down, legs splayed in front of me. I prayed I wouldn’t get called to a birth any time soon. Because of overextending myself this morning in the cause of sleuthing, I simply wouldn’t be able to go. I needed to reorder what was really important to me.

  “Let’s get thee out of thy wraps,” Mother said, following me in. She helped me off with my outer clothing. She took it away to hang, and returned with a steaming cup of tea.

  I savored the sweet milky brew. “This is perfect. I thank thee,” I said, as the clock chimed eleven times.

  “It looks as if thee might have gone a little too far this morning.”

  “Not in distance, but in effort, yes.”

  “Shall I look at thy wound?” she asked.

  “Please.” I removed the cap I’d worn under my bonnet and inclined my head.

  “It’s healing over.” She pressed gently around it. “I don’t feel swelling.”

  “Good. The shock to my brain presents a bigger problem right now, I think.”

  “Rest will cure thee, my dear.” She handed me a letter. “This came in the morning post. I hope it proves to be restful, as well.”

  The fancy envelope in a pale blue paper was addressed to me. Intertwined initials pressed into the sealing wax read CCD. I’d venture a guess those letters belonged to Clarinda Chase Dodge. I wasn’t sure I wanted to open it, but I did, anyway.

  Dear Miss Carroll,

  We intend to invite a few friends to dine with us this evening. Will you and Mrs. Carroll do us the favor of forming two of our party? You will meet Mr. Benjamin Lehigh, with whom I believe you are already acquainted, as also several others, to whom I shall feel much pleasure in introducing you. We shall meet at my home at six o’clock; and I feel convinced that, if you have no previous engagement, you will not disappoint me in the pleasure of seeing you and your mother at our simple repast.

  Believe me to remain,

  My dear Miss Carroll,

  Most sincerely yours,

  Mrs. Herbert Dodge

  It was as if Queen Victoria herself had commanded my presence. While I’d survived several teas, as well as a fancy dinner dance at the Dodge home over the last six months or so, spending time with David’s mother was not my favorite pastime. But if I wanted a life with him, I would need to find ways to enjoy Clarinda’s company. And it sounded like Mother had softened her up a bit. Benjamin was a congenial and prosperous Quaker lawyer from Newburyport who had helped with the murder case last July. I knew he was friendly with the Dodge family, and it would be a pleasure to see him again. I hoped David’s flighty cousin wasn’t one of the invitees. Clarinda had been pushing David to marry Violet instead of me ever since he and I had started courting. Well, I’d simply make the best of it if she was included.

  I read it to Mother. “What does thee think? Shall we go?” I asked.

  “Does thee wish to?”

  “I think I’d better. And it would be a comfort to have thee with me.”

  “Rest for the remainder of the day, then, so thee will be able. Now, I’m off to visit with Frannie. I so enjoyed meeting her at the demonstration, and she wants to become more active in the movement.”

  “Enjoy thyself, and greet her for me. Speaking of the demonstration reminds me that Zula posted a notice in the Mercantile of a Woman Suffrage Association meeting tonight.” I set the cup down. “She said it will be largely to remember Rowena. Will thee tell Frannie?”

  “Of course. It’s a pity we can’t go because of the dinner invitation. But I somehow think dining with the Dodges is more important tonight, doesn’t thee?”

  I nodded very slowly and closed my eyes. All I wanted to do was sleep. From the front of the house came a rapping noise. My eyes flew open and my heart sank. Was it a father or a driver summoning me? Or had I forgotten about a prenatal appointment?

  Mother hurried out of the room. She returned with Hilarius following. Good heavens, what was he doing here?

  I greeted him. “What can we help thee with?”

  He turned his cap in his hat, his shoulders forward. “I need your help. You’re like a doctor, ain’t you?”

  “I’m a midwife, Hilarius. The only medicine I know is in the area of childbirth. Does thee have a wife in labor?”

  “No, it’s not like that. It’s my old ma, see. She’s so poorly, and she’s worse today. All the worry what with me going to jail just did her in. Could you come to see her?”

  Absolutely not. I went off with a suspect in the spring and it ended up being a terribly dangerous situation. I wasn’t putting myself in peril again. But how to tell the poor fellow, who was obviously beside himself with worry?

  “I’m so sorry thy mother isn’t well, but I’m afraid I can’t help thee.” I spied Mother behind him, shaking her head with vigor. We were of the same opinion.

  “But you have to! I think she’s dying.” His narrow face was drawn down in concern.

  “I suffered an injury yesterday, Hilarius. I regret that I’m simply not able to sojourn out at this time. I hope she improves soon and that thee finds the help thee needs.”

  “I’m going to see a friend, and I believe she owns a telephone,” Mother said to him, stepping to his side. “I’ll call David Dodge for thee. How does that sound? He’s an actual doctor.”

  “I know he is, and a real gentleman, too.” Hilarius said. “But by the time he gets free from his work and makes it here from Newburyport, my mum might already have crossed the dark river.”

  I’d heard others use the quaint phrase meaning death. “Thee will need to seek out a physician here in Amesbury, then. Perhaps John Douglass is in his offices,” I said. “I’m t
ruly not qualified to assist, and I apologize that I can’t even come to see thy mother.” Hilarius had helped me plenty getting Frederick home from the bar First Day night, and I pitied the man, but I couldn’t do anything to help him. “I do hope her lapse in health is a temporary one.”

  His shoulders slumped even more. “I’ll take my leave, then.”

  “Wait,” I said, hoping this wasn’t going too far with a man whose mother was so ill. “Might I ask thee a question? It will only take a moment.”

  “Yes?”

  “On the night thee says thee saw Rowena dead, did thee also see a carriage or buggy pass, a conveyance drawn by a single horse?” My words rushed out.

  His nostrils flared and his eyes darted every which way but on me.

  I waited.

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Did you recognize the driver? Did he stop at the Felch house?” If Hilarius knew who drove the carriage, it could be a critical piece of information.

  “No, and no.” His voice was low and hoarse as he spit out the words. He turned to go, with Mother ushering him out. Before he left the room he looked back at me. “I didn’t kill her, you know.”

  The afternoon post brought a short note from John. He’d written, in his educated flowing hand, that he was sorry about my plan to visit him, but that he was returning to Oak Knoll by noon. I checked the clock, which read two. I’d not be seeking counsel from this wise Friend until he returned the next time.

  I’d penned our acceptance to the dinner before Mother left and gave it to her to post. I’d spent the hours since she departed resting and reading, trying not to think too hard or move too suddenly. Now I gazed around the modest sitting room. The upholstered chairs were a little shabby, and whose wouldn’t be with five children in the house? The oval rug was braided, not an exotic Oriental carpet. The bookcase was crowded with books for adults and children alike, as befit a household headed by a teacher. The decor was suitably simple, perfect for a Quaker home. The air still smelled faintly of apple and cinnamon from the pies Mother had baked, and the only sound was the comforting ticking of the long case clock in the corner.