“Anyone can own a rag like that,” Lyda shouted. “Rose, you must fetch me my wrapper.” Lyda pointed to the armoire. “I can’t be indecent with policemen in the room.” She scooted her legs back under the covers.
She had the nerve ordering me around, but I complied. It might be the last act of kindness anyone ever did for her. When I opened the door of the cupboard, the scent of violet flooded my nostrils. I sniffed as I narrowed my eyes and stared at the hanging dresses without seeing them.
“What are you waiting for, Rose?” Lyda called.
I grabbed the wrapper and shut the door. Lyda donned the garment. “Now I’d like my baby.” She held out her arms, but Annie only shook her head and took a step backward.
Kevin approached Lyda. “Mrs. Osgood,” he began. “Where was your husband Saturday night between dusk and approximately five o’clock in the morning?”
“Why, he was right here with me, Officer. Weren’t you, dear?”
Elbridge kept his eyes on the floor in front of him and nodded.
“Lyda, on Monday thee told me Rowena had been bashed in the head,” I said. “Thee had no way of knowing the method of death. Am I right, Kevin?”
“Correct. You, Miss Rose, were the only person outside of the police to see it. And we made quite sure not to let the fact slip out to the newspapers.”
“Why, I heard it somewhere,” Lyda scoffed, tossing her head. “The news must have gotten around town. I think the maid told me.”
“I don’t believe so.” I turned to Kevin. “The armoire is filled with the scent of violet. It was what I smelled on the handkerchief when I first picked it up, but the smell was faint from being out all night and I couldn’t place it.”
“I’m not the only lady who wears violet!” She again made as if to climb out of bed but Kevin set his hand firmly on her shoulder.
“Lyda, thee helped kill Rowena,” I said.
“Mrs. Osgood had nothing to do with it,” Elbridge blustered. “She was home the whole night!”
“No, she wasn’t.” I continued. “Lyda, I smelled the scent of violet when I found Rowena’s body. It is thy perfume.”
“Rowena must have fancied the same aroma,” she insisted.
I smiled sadly. “Frannie Eisenman said Rowena had a severe sneezing reaction to scents. No, it was thee, luring her with the note, pushing Elbridge to kill her.” I gazed at Kevin. “I realized a little while ago the penmanship on the note Lyda wrote summoning me to her birth matched the handwriting on the note.” I drew the note the driver had brought me out of my pocket. “Kevin, I think if thee compares the writing on this note and the ink on the one summoning me to the carriage house with the note found at the body, they will all match.”
He nodded approvingly.
“Oh, and the cricket bat?” I pointed to where it lay in the corner. “If thee examines it well, I believe thee might find traces of Rowena’s blood, as well as my own, and possibly strands of our hair, unless Elbridge or Lyda scrubbed it well clean.”
“Now isn’t that interesting? The murder weapon itself.” Kevin rubbed his hands together. “Gilbert, secure the bat, will you?”
Elbridge sank his head into his bound hands with a groan as Guy lifted the bat and turned it over and over, examining it.
I looked at Lyda again. “Thee couldn’t stand the fact that Rowena was given thy husband’s job.”
“Well, it was neither fair nor right. And you don’t have proof of anything. This absurdity has gone on too long. Give me my baby.” She extended her arms toward Annie again.
I shook my head and Annie half turned away, protecting the child with her arms. Kevin took the note and thanked me.
He addressed Lyda. “We interviewed a witness who placed you both, Mr. and Mrs. Osgood, at the scene of the crime Saturday evening at nine o’clock.” Kevin laid a hand on Elbridge’s shoulder. “Elbridge Osgood, you are under arrest for the murder of Mrs. Oscar Felch.” Elbridge cast an anguished look at his wife.
I handed Kevin my cord scissors. Elbridge didn’t struggle as an officer cut loose his feet, helped him up, and ushered him out.
Kevin reached down and lightly touched Lyda’s shoulder. She twisted away but couldn’t evade his touch. “Lyda Osgood, you are under arrest as an accessory to the murder of Mrs. Oscar Felch. I’ll call for a police matron to stay with you until you are recovered enough to be transported to the jail. And until she arrives, Officer Gilbert will guard you. We will find someone to care for the wee one.”
“You can’t do that!” She gazed at her baby with stricken eyes, as if only now realizing the impact of her crime. She brought her hand to her mouth as tears seeped from her eyes.
“Indeed I can, Mrs. Felch. It’s the law.” He instructed the other officer to call for the matron. Kevin turned to me. “Thank you,” he whispered.
I acknowledged his appreciation with a frown. I was getting better at detecting, true. I gazed at the sweet bundle in Annie’s arms. The newborn and her older brothers, nearly babies themselves, would now be no different than orphans due to the desperate, foolish actions of their parents. I’d helped justice to be served, but at a tragic cost. Perhaps I should stick to midwifery from now on.
thirty-six
Annie took the baby downstairs over Lyda’s loud protests. I waited with Guy in Lyda’s bedroom.
“You can’t take my daughter away from me,” she wailed.
“I’m afraid we can, Mrs. Osgood,” Guy told her, looking pained to have to say it, being the father of a baby daughter, himself.
Wild-eyed, Lyda threw back the covers and attempted to climb out of bed. “I’m going to get my baby!”
Guy stepped next to the bed and set his hand firmly on her shoulder. “You aren’t going anywhere.”
Lyda glared at him and shrank from his touch. She abandoned her efforts to escape, though, and turned her back to him, curling into a ball. I hurried to the bed and pulled the coverlet over her silently shaking shoulders.
The nervous maid let us know of the police matron’s arrival nearly two hours later. I left Guy with Lyda, who appeared to have fallen asleep, and went downstairs to meet the female officer. She was a no-nonsense middle-aged woman in a dark uniform dress, a police badge pinned to her bosom. The department employed a few police matrons, specifically to keep watch over female prisoners. We stepped into the parlor where Annie sat with the sleeping infant. After I filled the matron in on the facts of the situation, she nodded.
“How long before Mrs. Osgood can safely be transported to jail?” she asked.
“I’d like her to stay here in bed for two days, if possible. She didn’t have a difficult birth, but the process takes its toll on any woman’s body, and I don’t want to risk bleeding by overtaxing her.”
“Very well. It won’t do harm to handcuff one of her hands to the bed, I trust?”
“I think it would be a prudent move,” I said. “I’ll bind her breasts before I leave, because her milk will come down in the next day or two. As for this little one”—I gestured toward Annie and the newborn—“I’ll telephone the grandmother who’s caring for the older Osgood boys. I expect she might agree to come and fetch the baby.” When the matron agreed, I obtained the grandmother’s name from the maid and put the call through. The grandmother turned out to be Elbridge’s mother, not Lyda’s, and she came promptly with a driver and carriage.
“One of my servants recently gave birth and can serve as a wet nurse for the time being.” The snowy-haired grandmother cradled her granddaughter, touching her cheek, then looked up again. “I never liked that Lyda. Not good enough for my son by half. And now look what she’s gone and done, dragging him into a life of crime, leaving her babies motherless. I hope she hangs.” She said good-bye and turned away.
I murmured to Annie, “It’s more likely her own son will hang.” I let out a heavy breath. “I have to go up and
see if Lyda will let me bind her breasts. She might refuse.”
Which was exactly what happened, so I abandoned my efforts and told Guy and the matron that Annie and I were leaving. We walked toward town with heavy steps, Annie seemingly feeling the weight of what we’d just been through as much as I was. Another snowstorm appeared to be brewing and my headache was creeping back. Dark gray clouds threatened the sky and I tasted snow in the cold air.
“Annie, thee did well,” I told her, slipping her arm through mine. “Was it terribly frightening, having Elbridge apprehend thee like he did?”
“Mon Dieu, yes, Rose.” She crossed herself. “He kept insisting we go upstairs, and I kept telling him the baby wasn’t born yet and he couldn’t. In the end he almost dragged me. I’m sorry to have left you alone, with your headache, and all, but he was so irate I thought it was better to keep him out of the birthing chamber.”
“Thee did the right thing. And continued to by keeping the baby in thy arms. Lyda could have used her as a weapon, as a security.”
“You mean, threaten to harm the baby if we didn’t let them escape, or some such thing?”
“This is a woman who pushed her own husband to murder, don’t forget. That’s exactly what I mean.”
“She wouldn’t!”
“Annie, humans are capable of great wrong, even to their own families. I think she might have, and thee made sure she couldn’t attempt it.”
A wagon laden with pumpkins rattled by on the cobblestones as we approached Market Square, and the Baptist Church bell struck three times. A cry of, “Thief!” went up across the way as four lads ran by clutching small loaves of bread. Smoke danced up from the chimney of a nearby bakery, and the inviting aroma of fresh bread tickled my nose and taunted my stomach. Despite the terrible misdeeds of Lyda and Elbridge, everyday life went on as if nothing truly bad had happened. Merchants sold their wares. Mills and factories beat their industrial rhythms. Children played, women toiled, teachers taught. At least the Osgood wrongdoers wouldn’t be attempting any more crimes, ever.
“Luckily for all of us, not all births are so dramatic as this one,” I remarked, almost to myself.
“I should hope not.”
“Now that we know it was Lyda behind my attack, I can’t figure out why she would want to kill her midwife when her birth was imminent.” I frowned as I walked.
“She did say she was about to call a doctor when we walked in. Maybe she had arranged for someone else to help her. And then when you survived, she couldn’t very well not call you after labor started.”
“That’s a good deduction, Annie. I think you’re right.” Maybe Annie would be my helper in more ways than one in the future.
“Rose, I must return to Mrs. Roune’s and see if she has need of me for the rest of the day, even though she said she didn’t. Just in case.”
“Thee is a conscientious sort, Annie. And I know thee will make a successful midwife.” I squeezed her hand.
She said good-bye, trying to wipe the smile at the compliment off her face. I turned toward High Street, but thought the better of it. I wouldn’t be able to rest if I didn’t know that all the other messy ends of this ball of yarn had also been tidied up, and I thought knowing might help my head, too. I aimed myself in the direction of the police station instead of home.
Five minutes later I sat opposite Kevin in his office. He’d pumped my hand so vigorously when I walked in I thought it would fall off. Now he beamed.
“Excellent teamwork, Miss Rose, wouldn’t you say?”
“I suppose. But a few things still puzzle me.”
“Such as?”
“For one, what was Hilarius doing on Greenwood Street Seventh Day night if he didn’t kill Rowena? He’s always maintained his innocence.”
“Ah, I persuaded that bird to sing. Remember when we conjectured if Mr. Felch was involved, he must have hired someone to kill his wife?”
“Yes.”
“Bauer told me Felch did hire him!” Kevin ended on a triumphant note. “Bauer was supposed to kill her and make it look like a burglary. Felch had given him a key to the back door so he could sneak in and do the deed. But Felch didn’t know his wife would be out at a meeting. When Bauer got there, he spied Mrs. Felch waiting in front of her house. He says once he saw her, he realized he couldn’t kill her and he hid, thinking she would go inside. Instead he watched the Osgoods kill her.”
“With the cricket bat.”
Kevin nodded. “He said it happened so fast he couldn’t stop them. He watched them drag her under the bush. By the time they drove away and he went to check, she was dead. Mr. Felch had threatened him if he didn’t kill his wife, so Bauer figured he’d better stage the break-in, anyway.”
“He was terrified to tell the truth.”
“I convinced him we’d be lenient if he did. Although he plum made a mess of it, breaking the glass from the inside instead of out.”
“Thus the shards on the front stoop.” I gazed at the desk in front of me without seeing it. “So his agreement with Oscar was the reason he looked so frightened every time he spoke of that evening. Frankly, Kevin, I’m glad he’s innocent.”
“It’s always good to discover the truth. And now I have Felch in a cell next to Osgood.”
I thought for another moment. “I’m relieved Zula is innocent. I’d hate to see a young woman like her be a killer. Not to mention how it would have besmirched the suffrage movement. Can’t you just imagine the headlines?” I shook my head, then regretted it as I winced.
“You’re not better yet, are you?” He furrowed his brow, looking concerned. “Go on home and take a good rest. And Miss Rose?”
“Yes?”
“I can’t be having you helping me with another murder case. It’s too dangerous by a long shot. Look at what happened. You were lucky to get away with only a head wound.”
“All right, Kevin.” Although I couldn’t really vouch for what I would do if another murder was committed in our fair town. I’d gotten quite a taste for teasing apart the various threads that knit together a case. Despite the danger, I liked the feeling of solving a mystery, but I prayed it would be a good long time before another murder was committed. Never would be fine, too.
thirty-seven
I awoke from a nap at home later in the afternoon to sounds of giggles and scurrying around. I used my chamberpot and rinsed my hands in the basin. Donning my glasses, I opened the door to the hall, my head blessedly free from pain for once. Dark had already fallen outside. Luke sat on the floor reading. He leapt to his feet.
“Rose, did thee have a good rest?” he asked in an overly loud voice.
“What is thee doing on the floor, Luke? And what time is it?” I yawned.
“I’m just reading.” He glanced at the ceiling, looking way too innocent for a thirteen-year-old boy.
Or girl, I reflected, remembering my own hijinks at his age. What could he be up to?
“I think it’s about five thirty,” Luke said.
Betsy ran in. “Granny Dot says tea’s on the table. Come on!” She grabbed my hand and led me through the sitting room. The door to the kitchen was closed. Betsy stopped and clapped her hands. “Ready?” Her eyes shone and she bounced in her little knitted house slippers.
“Am I ready for tea? Certainly. Lead the way, miss.”
Betsy pulled open the door with a flourish. I took one step into the kitchen and stopped. The room resounded in, “Happy birthday!” and “Many happy returns of the day!”
I swiveled my head from left to right and back. All the other Baileys stood around the table—the twins, Faith, and Frederick, along with Mother. Zeb stood with Faith. David stood beaming, too, next to Annie and Bertie. Small cakes, fruit tarts, a plate holding squares of fudge, and a bowl of peppermint and butterscotch candies surrounded a vase of colorful late asters in the middle of the table. Littl
e wrapped packages filled the few empty spaces. A grateful smile spread across my face even as my eyes filled.
“Is thee surprised, Auntie Rose?” Betsy asked. Luke scooted past us with a big grin on his watchman’s face.
I scooped Betsy into my arms. “I’ll say. How did thee keep the secret, my sweet?”
“They only told me after thee went to sleep.”
Mother nodded knowingly. I laughed and swiped at my tears.
David moved to my side. “Happy twenty-seventh, Rosie.” He lightly kissed my forehead.
“Me, too,” Betsy demanded. “Don’t I get a kiss, too?”
David laughed out loud and complied with her demand. I looked at Annie.
“Did you know about the party this morning?” I asked her. “If so, you’re good at keeping a secret.”
She smiled and shook her head. “Faith sent me a note after I got home.”
“I thank each of thee for being here,” I said, looking at each in turn. “I never expected a party. But I needed one about now.”
Bertie sent me a knowing look and I reflected it back to her. She’d clearly heard of our harrowing encounter with murderers.
“Well, let’s eat,” Mother said. Faith poured fresh cider for the younger ones, and Mother served tea for the rest of us.
“Aren’t you going to open your gifts, Auntie Rose?” Mark asked, looking wistfully at the gaily wrapped packets.
“I’ll do it after we eat, Mark. I shan’t forget to call on each of thee to help me open them, all right?”
He nodded, pressing his lips together but unable to conceal his happy smile.
The younger children took their sweets and drinks into the sitting room, Luke carrying Betsy’s cider since she wasn’t yet adept at walking without spilling.
“Does thee want to share anything about thy suspenseful morning?” Mother asked.
I mused on the prospect as I sipped my hot, milky tea. “I’d rather not just now. Let it suffice that the world has been set right again, thanks to Annie and Kevin.”
Turning the Tide Page 22