US Grant Mysteries Boxed Set

by Jeffrey Marks

  Julia feigned surprise. To Grant the scene was as obvious as a horse pie on a summer day, but the doctor seemed to be taken in. “People are saying that about her? Could it be true?”

  The doctor nodded. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but we may never know how many people die from poisons. There’s no way to tell. General, it’s a good thing that you seem to have the devotion of your wife. So many men could be slaughtered in that manner.”

  Grant decided to chime in. “So it could have been murder and no one would be the wiser.”

  The doctor squirmed in his chair. “Well, I didn’t think so at the time. I must say that Halley had been a very sick man. He came back from Georgia emaciated, little more than a bag of bones. I helped nurse him back to health, but the prison camp fare had ruined his digestive tract. He had a very limited diet without much nutritious value to it. So it could have been natural causes. The coroner, Dr. Shroen, backed me up on the diagnosis.”

  Neither Grant nor Julia spoke. They let Peck proceed at his own pace in the telling.

  “In retrospect though, it could have been poison. The symptoms could have been arsenic, but it’s a difficult call without more suspicions than I had. The poison closely mimics gastritis.”

  “Did he have a special diet? I would assume his food would have to be bland.” Julia talked about the kitchen as if she’d visited one in years.

  “Yes, so it’s unlikely that anyone else would eat his portions. So a person could conceivably put something in his meal without fear of tainting anyone else in the household.”

  “So no one would be the wiser if Mrs. Halley had slipped some poison in the poor man’s food? It all sounds too easy.”

  The doctor shook his head. “Not in this case. The man died rather suddenly. If a person were trying to surreptitiously murder a man, they wouldn’t administer the poison to him all in one dose. They would dole it out over time, allowing the poison to build up in the system. The symptoms would be a matter of degrees, and most medical men would never even know the difference. Mrs. Halley never struck me as a stupid woman and poisoning in a single dose would be dangerous at best. People talk.”

  “But she got away with it.” Julia had a glint in her eye. Grant wondered what thought had crossed her mind. She often claimed to have a psychic sense, and Grant had found her intuition rarely to be wrong. Her ideas would be worth pursuing.

  “Did she?” The doctor looked slightly chagrined at his former patient’s macabre curiosity. He probably wasn’t used to a woman like Julia who spoke her mind and knew her course. “Many of the people in town are tattling about Halley’s death. Why, I was at the services at the Methodist church the other night and people were clucking about it openly. Dr. Shroen and mine conclusions seem to mean nothing to these people.”

  Grant wondered what the reverend would say about the rumors. After all, he could hardly bite the hand that fed him so well. New steeples and bells didn’t come without a price, and Mrs. Halley had been a generous donor. Yet several commandments had been trampled in the past few days. How could he countenance these matters, regardless of the personal cost?

  How would the sheriff handle a matter where the authorities said no crime had been committed? He might leave it alone for a while, but eventually he would be forced to act.

  “Was Mr. Halley -- difficult? Would she be better off without him?” Julia looked directly at the doctor.

  “I never found him to be cross, but it’s hard to know what goes on behind closed doors. My, how did we ever get onto this topic? Not exactly the best thing to talk about when one of my favorite patients comes to call.”

  Julia took that as a dismissal and rose from the seat. “It’s been so good to see you, Doctor. I’ll make sure to tell Buck and Nellie that we saw you again. They’ll be happy to know.”

  Grant rose with his wife and shook the doctor’s hand. It felt strange to think that this man had a larger role than his own in his son’s formative first two years. Grant had been alone and miserable without his family in California. He’d drunk to mask his misery and finally resigned to be with his family again. Ironically, old Jeff Davis had approved his resignation. Funny how time had a way of changing roles.

  The doctor followed the Grants to the door and let them out. Grant could have sworn that the doctor’s eyes followed them until they were well on their way back to the Newman house.

  Chapter 13

  When Grant awoke the following morning, he was alone. Julia was gone, as was little Jess. He thought about luxuriating in bed for a few hours, a rare treat for someone long use to Army cots and the hard Virginia earth, but he decided to see if he could find his host instead. Newman had been AWOL when they returned last night. Julia had wanted to ask him about Mrs. Halley and the suspicions that surrounded her murdering her husband. Since he already knew Julia’s obloquy regarding Mrs. Halley, Newman was the logical person to discuss the matter with.

  Yet Grant couldn’t find any trace of his host either. It seemed as though he was alone in the house. He was tempted momentarily to search for clues. The two surviving men were the most likely suspects in any killings with the number of likely candidates dwindling rapidly. If the gunshots were related to the gold – and he had every reason to think they were – then either Newman was innocent or he had an accomplice. Grant hadn’t learned a way to blow buckshot in your direction from a distance. This left Micah Brown who was more’n likely to slide in a shotgun barrel, rather than fire one. The recoil of the gun would knock the bony man flat.

  Grant heard noises from the kitchen and made his way to the back of the home. The aroma of coffee told him that Patsy was still at the house. The impromptu search would have to be postponed. She would have no reason to keep Grant’s treacheries against his host to herself.

  “Morning, General. Mr. Newman told me that you should makes yourself at home. He had to go fetch some things from his cousins out near Felicity.”

  Grant nodded. A trip to the small town in the next county meant that Newman would be gone several hours. Of course, he still didn’t know where Julia had got off to. She could be visiting any one of a number of people in town, for who knows what nefarious purposes. She owed a visit to her in-laws, the Simpsons, as well as some of Jesse’s friends who had helped her during her pregnancies.

  Without asking, Patsy slid a plate down on the table in front of Grant. He was used to fending for himself, even as he’d risen in the ranks. Rawlins might lecture him on the evils of the demon alcohol and act like a mother hen at times, but he would never dream of serving him breakfast. The plate this morning held hog jowl bacon and a sausage link as thick as the black woman’s arm. She poured him a cup of coffee and set it in front of the plate.

  Grant dug in, and she seemed content not to speak as she performed the chores around the kitchen. He set into the meal with verve and was almost finished when Julia returned, poking her head in the kitchen. “Morn, Ulys. How are you today?”

  He nodded, not wanting to risk a lecture on speaking with his mouth full. When Julia was in a maternal mode, she corrected everything the family did, him included.

  “Well, I went to visit the Simpsons this morning. I thought I might be able to confirm a few of the musings of the doctor yesterday.”

  Grant jerked his head in Patsy’s direction. Julia was used to her own servants who had been with her for years. Those folk could be trusted with the Confederate gold if necessary. That bond made her complacent about talking in front of other people’s help, as if they could share the same levels of honor. Grant didn’t know Patsy’s antecedents, but he was sure she would owe more loyalty to her employer than the Grants. She’d know what side of her bread was buttered.

  “Well, we can take a walk in a few minutes and I’ll tell you everything.” She hummed a few bars of a war song, and Grant wondered why that tune had popped into her head. She seemed peculiarly buoyed this morning and Grant had no idea why. The bed was warm and comfortable, but that certainly couldn’t expla
in the morning’s smiles and songs.

  Grant mopped up the gravy on his plate with the remnants of a biscuit and followed after his wife. A morning constitutional would be good for him anyway. The rich meals and more sedentary life had made his uniforms fit a bit tighter these days. His 5’8” frame didn’t allow room for extra weight.

  They were a solid two blocks from the Newman house before Julia began her story. “Well, Ulys, it does seem like our near hostess has been a busy woman.” The devil is no match for a clever woman, Grant thought. Rose Greenhow wasn’t half the spy that his wife was. Grant shivered remembering that she’d been drowned, weighed down by gold coins sewn into her clothing.

  “Do tell, wife. It seems like you’ve been busy as well.”

  Julia sputtered for a second and tapped Grant’s arm in a mock fashion. “You’re in spirits today. You know precisely what I mean.”

  “So how are the Simpsons, dear wife? I’m sure they bore more news than just the antics of Mrs. Halley.” Grant took a left on Plane Street, and the couple continued walking.

  Julia filled a few blocks of town with the gossip regarding his mother’s family. Apparently from the amount of information that Julia had gleaned in such a short time, the rest of the Simpsons were nothing like his own taciturn mother. They must practically prattle on like old hens. Who was married, who had died and who was with child. All of the things that made this country move on after the war, and continue on its great path. Grant hoped that in a few years, the circle of life and death would make people forget and forgive some of the transgressions of the past four years. He wanted the Union to adopt a spirit of forgiveness and tolerance. The country should re-unite and heal. Even his cousin, Robert Simpson, was doing better after bouts of ill health at the end of the war. However, it would be a few months before he was well enough to farm again.

  They were almost to the skirts of Bethel, which was to say about five blocks from the hamlet’s center when she finished the Simpson tales. Grant would need to remember all of these stories for his mother’s benefit when they reached Covington. She would expect him to know all the entire family tree, like a school examination. She reminded him of Julia in their mutual devotion to family. Though in his mother’s case, it was rarely verbally expressed.

  “So what are these things that you heard? I’ve been waiting patiently.” Grant turned them left on West Street. The town of Bethel was built on a grid of square blocks that made navigation simple. They could ring the town by going from West Street to North to East and then South Street. The planners had designed the layout to be relatively easy in style and in form.

  They continued on past Osborn as a steady wind pushed at their backs. A few dead leaves swirled at their feet. “Well, from what I was told, the widow Halley wasted no time in finding a new beau. In fact some of your relatives speculated that perchance she had started courting before Mr. Halley was dead.”

  Grant blushed a little. Despite the women of easy virtue hanging around his camps for years, he still tried to think of women as dainty, proprietous creatures, not harlots who kept a line of men on a string. He had hoped Halley’s last days on earth had been good ones. Now he questioned whether they had been.

  “Your family goes to the same Methodist Episcopal church as the Halleys. They knew them socially. Mrs. Halley was accustomed to being on her own while her husband was in prisoner of war camp. Not that there were any eligible men left in town. All the menfolk were off fighting. It was very difficult for her to get used to having him home again.”

  Grant nodded. The story made sense. He’d heard similar stories from other enlisted men. Fortunately, Grant had learned his lessons during the California years. He’d been miserable without Julia. Those long lonely months alone drove him to drink. Julia was a poor correspondent. He’d gone months without a letter, having no way of knowing if Buck had been born and if the baby was a boy or a girl.

  By the time that the war started in 1861, he knew that Julia had to accompany him, if he were to fight effectively. With a few rare exceptions, she followed him through the campaigns of the war. On occasion, she’d nearly been captured, but nothing replaced the joy of having her at his side. She brought the children as well, likening their education on the battlefields if not in schools, as that of Alexander the Great learning at the feet of Philip of Macedonia. She was not above hyperbole when it came to his career.

  Women were the weaker sex and prone to emotions. Men were expected to use self-control. Absence might make the heart grow fonder, but it was no excuse for women to stray. He knew that it happened, even as he knew that he could never so cruelly betray his beloved. “So who was the shameful man who took advantage of the woman?”

  Julia walked ahead of her husband a few steps. Grant knew that she didn’t want to tell him this part -- it would upset him. By walking ahead, she didn’t have to look him in the eye as she told him. “Well, at first, it was a merchant who was traveling through town, but since the war, she’s been spending a great deal of time with our Mr. Newman.”

  Grant sputtered. “Zeke Newman? I don’t believe it.”

  “I didn’t think you would, but the Simpsons were adamant. She sneaks over to his house using backyards as not to be seen. Of course, she was seen, and it looks much worse when you skulk – like you have something to hide.” Julia maintained her pace, so she wouldn’t look at him. Grant tried to speed up, but she seemed to know his tactics without watching him.

  Grant remembered seeing Clarissa Halley at the Newman house the other day. At the time, he hadn’t been sure. It hadn’t made sense for her to run to Newman, but if they were having an affair, maybe she felt a need to check what he was going to tell Grant. By telling identical stories, less doubt would be cast on their version of the truth. He had questioned his eyes that day, but now he was certain that she’d hurried over to see Newman. That didn’t look good for the couple if they were cheating.

  They turned on to North Street. At least the wind no long pushed them forward. Grant remained in silence for a few minutes, mulling over what Julia had related. Host or no host, he’d have to talk to Newman about this. If the pair was involved, then their actions would have to be more carefully explored. Grant wasn’t sure he countenanced having little Jess in an adulterous house.

  Grant wondered why she continued to walk a few paces ahead, until she cleared her throat to speak again. “Well, the past few weeks, she and Newman were no longer involved. Several people were shocked to find out that she’d been spending time with Adam Woerner.”

  Grant let out a groan. It was one thing to have two viable suspects because of an affair, but this woman seemed determined to implicate every last conspirator in her adultery. The motives became endless. Especially when her last lover was the most recent victim.

  “Oh, I know. It’s shocking, but Robert said that he saw her go to Woerner’s place on more than one occasion. Unaccompanied.” Julia said the word like it was a verdict of guilt, rather than merely suggestive. With so much gold floating around Bethel, Grant had to wonder. Was perhaps Mrs. Halley blackmailing Woerner? With so much money at stake, it seemed more likely. If someone had murdered her husband, she lost the generous monthly allowance that the gold afforded her. In order to keep the well-kept life she’d grown used to, it made sense to pursue another member of the same group. Woerner was a bachelor with an eye for the ladies. When he was at West Point, Grant had heard the rumors about how Woerner got a local girl in trouble. She’d been shipped off to a home for unwed mothers in a flurry of scandal. Nothing untold had happened to Woerner. No condemnation and no reproach. Grant had no doubt that he was still the same type of man today. Men didn’t change over the years. Bobby Lee never got a demerit at West Point and he’d turned into a man who’d prided himself on protocol and manners. No matter that he’d fought to keep men in captivity.

  “Ulys, what if we’ve been looking at this matter all wrong? What if these deaths have nothing to do with the gold? There are other human motivators b
esides greed. Love, jealousy, revenge.”

  Grant just nodded. He’d been lost in the same thoughts. He was glad to have Julia along on this trip. He needed her constant counsel and advice. “Well, I have given that some thought,” he exaggerated. “No one came looking for the map after Woerner’s death. If the money was the motive, I would have thought that the killer would have searched high and low for it. The gold doesn’t benefit anyone if it’s lost.”

  “Indeed. Well, that’s a worry. What if the killer comes after us to get the map? What should we do?”

  Grant scoffed. “Give it to him. I haven’t as much as made an attempt to hide it yet. So it should be easy to find. Besides except for that blamed key, no one locks a thing in this town.”

  Julia slowed down enough to touch Grant’s arm and look at him. “Ulys, what if the killer doesn’t have to fetch the map?”

  Grant squinted and tried to follow where this path was going. At last check, the map was still in their room. “You mean like a copy of it or something?”

  Julia shook her head, and made a small shiver. “No, what if the killer is Mr. Newman. He’s been with us every step of the way. He has as much access to it now as if he had it in his pocket.”

  Grant paused for a second. She was right. If Newman had killed those men, not only was he in line to collect the gold, he was also in line to inherit Mrs. Halley as well. Grant didn’t like the thought, but it had merit on its side. There were only a few people who benefited from the deaths. Newman was at the top of that list. Perhaps he’d enlisted an accomplice to take a shot at them. After all, it had missed. And Grant had allowed his family to be taken in by him.

  Chapter 14

  Grant didn’t know the proper etiquette for accusing his host of theft, adultery and murder. He decided to give it a bit of time, hoping that an opening in the conversation might allow the subject to be broached. He wasn’t sure that accusations of breaking multiple commandments crop up at the dinner table very often.