by K. B. Owen
“So the case is still open, but inactive?” Miss Hamilton asked.
“Yes.”
“Mr. Rosen was not garroted,” Concordia said. “How do we know his death is connected to Florence Willoughby’s murder?”
“We don’t,” Miss Hamilton said reluctantly. “We must learn what Rosen wanted to tell you. It wouldn’t hurt to look into Maynard’s activities as well.”
Eli murmured in his sleep, and all eyes turned to the boy.
“At least Eli is safe,” Concordia said. It was the best news she’d had all day. “What happened?” She pointed to the crutch propped next to the divan.
“The boy was grievously injured after his release from jail,” Miss Hamilton said. She turned to Sophia. “You’ll want your doctor to give him a good going-over tomorrow. Do you mind if I start back at the beginning, for Concordia’s and Mr. Bradley’s benefit?”
Capshaw nodded and pulled out his wad of paper, folded and unfolded so many times Concordia could see the smudge of its creasing from where she sat. “Hearing it again may clarify a few things.”
“I know little about any of it,” David volunteered, with a swift glance at Concordia, “but I’ll try to follow along.”
Miss Hamilton folded her hands in her lap and began.
“When I learned from Eli’s friend—the boy who sells newspapers near the Pearl Street trolley stop—that he saw Eli running after a cab on the afternoon of Florence’s murder, I came to two conclusions: one, that the boy was chasing someone–no doubt the person he was convinced had murdered his mother; and two, that the cab was headed toward the train station. He found another means to get to the station in order to stay on the trail.”
Capshaw made an irritated gesture. “What could he have been thinking, to take such a danger upon himself? Why not come to me?”
Miss Hamilton opened her mouth to speak, but Sophia interrupted. “I think I understand it.” She smiled at her husband. “Although Eli had a mother—a surplus of mothers, it seems—he’s never had a father. A boy his age needs that. He’s become quite attached to you, dear. It’s clear he admires you. He’s stated more than once that he wants to grow up to become a police detective.”
“So when the opportunity arose to catch his mother’s killer, he acted on it,” Concordia added. “He wants to earn your approval.”
Capshaw’s expression could have been embarrassment, pride, or vexation; it was difficult to tell.
“In the heat of the chase, I doubt there was time to reach you, anyway,” Miss Hamilton said.
“So what did you do next, Miss Hamilton?” David prompted.
“No one saw Eli take a train out of Union Station that day. However, once I was able to talk with the conductor who had been on leave, I learned that a boy matching Eli’s description had been arrested and jailed for sneaking aboard a train the next day. He was traveling back to Hartford from Providence. He couldn’t pay for his passage. They’ve had trouble with scofflaws lately, and have tightened their rules.”
“Three days in jail seems extraordinarily harsh for such an infraction. And a child at that,” Concordia said.
Miss Hamilton nodded. “Indeed. “The conductor worried that the man who’d pointed out the boy was a spotter. The conductor didn’t want to risk being reported for not following the company policy. Eli was only supposed to remain in police custody until his family came to get him.”
“Why didn’t Eli contact the Capshaws?” Concordia asked.
“The boy insists that when he was put in jail he did ask that Sophia be contacted. He was told that a telegram was sent, but there was no response.” Miss Hamilton shrugged. “I don’t know what went wrong, but in his eyes, he was convinced that you’d rejected him.”
“The poor child,” Sophia murmured, smoothing the hair from the boy’s forehead.
“Prison officials then referred Eli to a reformatory school, and the school matron came to collect him,” Miss Hamilton said.
Concordia shook her head. “He would have hated that.”
“Exactly,” Miss Hamilton said. “He managed to slip away from her in the street, shortly after they left the jail. It was just after that when Eli was run over by the hansom,” she added.
Concordia and David both started out of their chairs. “‘Run over!’“ Concordia exclaimed.
“I was explaining that when you joined us,” Miss Hamilton said with perfect composure, as if boys got run over by hansoms every day.
David leaned forward, brow creased in concern. “Was it an accident, or deliberate?”
“I feel certain it was deliberate,” Miss Hamilton said. “It happened about three blocks from the jail. Witnesses told me the driver had been lingering at the corner, and suddenly whipped up the horse at great speed. He didn’t stop after Eli was knocked to the ground. Only the fact that the horse shied at the last minute saved the boy from worse injury.”
Concordia shuddered. What sort of man would callously run over a child?
“What happened after that?” Capshaw asked, scribbling in his pad. “Someone has obviously been taking care of him.”
“Yes,” Miss Hamilton said, “the bystanders who witnessed the incident carried Eli to a nearby house of a woman who’s a midwife. I’ve spoken with her. The boy was unconscious, and no one knew who he was. She set his leg and dressed his other wounds. Soon after, he developed a fever, and was not lucid for some time. She didn’t like the idea of a vulnerable young boy staying at the local hospital for the poor and indigent, given the sanitary conditions of that particular place, so she simply took care of him herself.”
Sophia exhaled in relief. “How extraordinarily kind. Can we pay her for the expense?”
Miss Hamilton smiled. “It’s already done.”
“What happened next?” Capshaw asked.
“Eli regained consciousness a couple of days ago. He wouldn’t tell her anything about himself—remember, he thought you had washed your hands of him—and she was at a loss. Fortunately, that’s when I found them.”
“Are you mad at me?” a quavering voice whispered.
Eli, now awake, looked up anxiously at Sophia.
Sophia stroked his hair. “No one is angry with you. We never got the telegram. I’m sorry about that.”
Eli smiled at her, then wiped his eyes on his sleeve. “Miss ’amilton tole me. You still want to ’dopt me?”
“Of course,” Sophia said. “But one rule: no more running off. If you have a problem, or something bad happens, you come to us, right away. You aren’t alone anymore.”
Eli nodded and struggled to sit up. “I’m real sorry about not tellin’ you where I was, but I didn’ have a chance.”
Capshaw squatted next to the boy. “I know you gave Miss Hamilton an account of what happened, but I’d like to hear it straight from you. Do you feel well enough to talk?”
“Let’s get him more comfortable first,” Sophia said, reaching for cushions.
Once Eli was settled between Concordia and Sophia on the divan, his leg propped up on a pillow and a mug of tea in his hands, Capshaw got down to business.
“Start with when you last saw Florence alive.”
Eli took a deep breath. “It was after lunch. She sent me ’round the corner with some money, to get a paper, and she said I could get myself a stick candy with the extra, if I wanted.” His eyes softened. “She was real thoughtful. I was starting to like her. She tole me that day that she decided she shouldn’ take me away, that she knew I was happier here. Cat seemed to take to her, and stayed in the room while I was gone.”
“How long did it take you to get the paper?” Concordia interrupted, which earned her a look from Capshaw. She could almost hear the thought in his head. Hmph. Meddling females.
“Dunno, it was a while. I was talkin’ with Whitey on the way,” Eli said. “Then I figured I was late an’ she was waiting, so I hurried back.”
“What happened then?” Capshaw asked quietly.
Eli kept his eyes on his
clenched-together hands. “I found her on the bed. At first, I thought she was sleepin’ but when I got closer her eyes were open, jes’ starin’…and she looked….” He drew a ragged breath. “She was dead.”
Concordia patted his back. “Go on,” she gently urged.
“I heard someone on the fire escape, so I hid under the bed. Cat was there with me.” Eli’s eyes held worry and regret. “Is he okay?”
Capshaw nodded. “He’s fine, son. Martha has him back at the settlement house.”
Eli wiped away more tears of relief, and blew his nose noisily in the handkerchief Capshaw passed over.
“Back to the person on the fire escape,” Capshaw said. “Did you see who it was?”
Eli shook his head. “It was a man, but I couldn’ peek through the bedskirts without giving myself away. I heard him mutterin’ to himself.”
“What did he say? What was his voice like?” Capshaw asked.
“It was real snarly,” Eli said. “And he said: ‘Takin’ a big chance comin’ back. I gave ’im ev’ry scrap o’ paper in the stinkin’ place—there weren’t no more. I better get paid good fer this one.’”
“Did you hear anything else?” Capshaw asked.
“No. He pulled out a lot o’ drawers, but quiet-like. I was real scared he’d look under the bed next.”
“What happened then?”
“It sounded like he was fiddlin’ with the door knob at first, and then I heard him at the window, climbin’ out. I did peek under the edge of the bed, then.”
“Did you get a look at him?”
Eli shook his head. “Not a good one. He was too quick. All I saw was a big hand, with hairy knuckles, as he was pulling down the window.”
“So you decided to follow the man,” Capshaw prompted the boy, “leaving the cat behind.”
Eli nodded. “I was real sorry to do that, but I thought Cat would slow me down. I figured someone would find him soon and let him out, when they found....” He shuddered, then whispered, “Her.”
“How did you avoid being seen?” Concordia asked, breaking the silence.
“I waited until he was out of the alley and across the street. When he weren’t looking, I went down the fire escape as quiet as I could. It can make an awful clatter if you’re not careful. He couldn’t see me by then, ’cause the buildings are so close together. I followed him for a few blocks, and that’s when he met the man in fancy dress.”
Concordia gave Eli a sharp look. “Fancy dress? Do you mean like formal wear?”
Eli shrugged. “He was wearing a black jacket, striped pants, white shirt and collar. Looked fancy to me.”
“Then what?” Capshaw asked.
“They talked for a couple o’ minutes, and the fancy man handed a bundle of somethin’ to the other man. I think it was money. Then they split up.” He gave Capshaw a curious glance. “How do you decide which one to follow, when you’re on a case?”
Capshaw tousled the boy’s hair. “We’ll talk about that later. The more important question at the moment is, how did you decide?”
Eli pursed his lips. “I figured the fancy man paid the other man to—you know.” His voice faltered briefly. “I thought I’d follow the fancy man.”
Capshaw nodded in approval. “Good choice. And then?”
“After a few blocks, he took a cab an’ I couldn’t keep up. But,” he added, “I heard him say ‘station,’ so I hitched a ride on a couple of street cars and then a fella’s veg’table dray.”
“Were you able to catch up with him at the station?” Concordia asked, completely absorbed in the narrative.
Eli made a face. “It was hard, ’cause there were a lot more fellas with the same kind o’ clothes on. And then when I did find him, I had to sneak on board, ’cause I didn’ have any money.” He looked at them apologetically. “I figured it was for a good reason.”
“We’ll get back to that later,” Capshaw said. “You were able to get aboard without being, uh, detected?”
“Yessir, but I had to hide in the water closet whenever the conductor came around. I was real worried I’d miss the fancy man’s stop. But I didn’t dare get close enough for him to notice me.”
“Were you able to determine where he got off?”
“I got off at the stop for Providence jes’ in time. Then he got into another hansom cab.” The boy hesitated.
“What is it?” Capshaw prompted.
Eli sighed. “I’m sure he saw me then. The window curtain twitched, and suddenly the cabbie whipped up the horse, and took off.”
“Did you see the man’s face when he moved the curtain?” Capshaw asked, his voice hopeful.
“No sir. All I saw was his hand and wrist.”
“Describe them,” Capshaw said.
“The hand was pale, with long, slender fingers. The cuff looked nice and white—not wrinkled or dirty at all. And there was a big gold button with a black design on it.”
“You mean a cufflink?” Capshaw walked over to the desk, pulled out paper and pencil, and handed them to the boy. “Can you draw the design?”
Eli bent over the paper, teeth pulling on his lower lip as he worked. After several erasures and corrections, he finally finished. “Here.”
After passing it to Capshaw, he eyed the dessert plate hungrily. Concordia brought it over with a smile.
Capshaw examined the rough drawing of what looked to be a tube that was slightly pinched in the middle, with a spiral at one end. “A cylinder of some kind. I don’t recognize it,” he muttered, handing it to Miss Hamilton, who puzzled over the sketch. Concordia got up and looked over her shoulder. Something about the drawing looked familiar.
“If I were on the case I would show this around, and make inquiries,” Capshaw said, jaw clenched.
“Just tell me whom to ask,” Miss Hamilton said.
Capshaw pulled out his notebook and scribbled down names and street addresses. “These four jewelers specialize in custom pieces,” he said, tearing out the sheet and passing it to her. “We’ll need to know who commissioned the cuff links, when, and if more than one pair was—”
Capshaw stopped short as Concordia rushed out of the room. They heard her rummaging in the coat closet.
She returned a moment later, holding up a pin, which she passed to Miss Hamilton. “I thought that sketch looked familiar. What do you think? Is it the same design?”
Miss Hamilton examined it against Eli’s drawing. “They are very like.” She turned to Eli, who was already working on his second pastry. “Did the cufflink look similar to this?” she asked, showing him the pin.
The boy nodded, mouth full.
Capshaw came over to look at the pin. “Where did you find this?” he asked Concordia.
“Remember the stranger I told you about? The youth I only saw from a distance? He dropped it.”
Capshaw started. “This is the first I’ve heard of it.”
“I stuck it in my jacket at the time, and forgot all about it.” Concordia grimaced. “I’m terrible about emptying my pockets. It’s been there ever since.”
“Could Eli’s fancy man and the school’s mysterious youth be the same person?” Capshaw mused aloud.
David shifted uneasily in his seat. “I don’t like the idea of any stranger strolling the college grounds at will, much less the one responsible for Miss Willoughby’s death.”
Concordia didn’t like it, either, but the man hadn’t been seen on campus in weeks.
Miss Hamilton got back to the business at hand. “Our first course is to trace the source of this pin. Between that and the sketch, we should be able to find the jeweler.”
Concordia, looking once again at Eli’s drawing, sucked in a sharp breath.
“What?” Capshaw asked.
“It’s not a cylinder; it’s a...scroll.”
In the silence that followed, Capshaw glanced anxiously at Eli, who was reaching for a third pastry. He got up and moved to the far end of the room away from the boy, gesturing to the rest of them to d
o the same.
Once they were out of earshot, Miss Hamilton said, “No doubt the man is a member of the Black Scroll.”
Sophia clenched her trembling hands together. “What do we know about this group?”
“Precious little,” Miss Hamilton admitted.
“So this man—from the Black Scroll—is responsible for the attempt on Eli’s life? Could he try again?” Sophia’s voice was strained, but quiet.
Capshaw looked uneasy. “I don’t know.”
“Well,” Sophia said, “we’re not taking any chances. Eli’s staying with us—permanently.”
Capshaw smiled. “Whatever you say, dear.” He walked back over to Eli. “How would you like to live here from now on, son…yes? Good. I’ll send word to Martha to collect your things.”
Sophia gave Capshaw a grateful look. She sat down beside Eli and held him close.
Concordia smiled. “Don’t forget the cat.”
“Okay, so we know about the day of the murder,” Capshaw said to Eli, after he’d finished eating. “Miss Hamilton says you were arrested the next day. Tell us about that.”
Eli brushed off the last of the crumbs and sat up straighter. “After the fancy man got away, I went back to the station. But I missed the last train. I slept near the station and got on the first train to come back here in the morning. I figured, since I couldn’ follow him no more, I’d come back real quick and tell you, so you could take over. But at the first stop, the conductor grabbed me. They took me to a policeman, who locked me up.” Eli shrugged. “I’m not so good at sneakin’ as I used to be, I guess.”
Capshaw laughed out loud.
Concordia smothered a grin. Apparently, reforming a child’s criminal behavior had its disadvantages.
Sophia gave them both a sharp look. “But you told them to contact us?” she asked.
Eli plucked at the cushion next to him. “When they said that you gave no answer, I thought you didn’ want me no more.”
Sophia held him close. “Of course we want you. There must have been some mistake along the way.”
Miss Hamilton, who had been listening to Eli’s narrative in silence, looked over at the boy. “You may not be as poor at concealing yourself as you think.” She glanced back at Capshaw. “Remember the spotter the conductor told me about? Perhaps he was neither a spotter nor a disinterested passenger.”