by Karen Kelly
The other word next to that verse was gladius, which Reverend Wallace had translated “short sword.” Again, Annie found herself staring at the word. “Oh!” she exclaimed to the furniture, since even Boots was out of the room. “A dirk is a short sword of a sort—a dagger.” Neither man’s testimony had sold the judge on their honesty, and she could see why after reading what had transpired in the courtroom.
Annie glanced at the time, wondering if Alice would be home or out tying up all of the loose ends of her business before Christmas. She didn’t want to interrupt. “Worth a try,” she muttered, dialing Alice’s cellphone.
“It came!” she excitedly exclaimed when Alice answered.
She heard a chuckle before Alice replied. “Now, it’s been a while since I’ve experienced it, but I do believe this is Annie’s voice. Thank you, Lord! What came?”
“My voice returned just in time. The documents from the archives came today and—wow!—were we ever right to research William’s notes!”
“That was quick! If I weren’t on my way to deliver some products, I’d be knocking on your door in thirty seconds. While I’m driving, tell me what you’ve found out so far. And don’t worry, I have you on speaker phone.” Alice knew Annie didn’t like people driving with one hand hanging onto their phones—especially in winter. The road conditions were too unpredictable.
“First, remember those mysterious witnesses that the newspaper articles you found at the Historical Society never named? Well, they have names in the court transcript, and Uncle Will’s Bible notations sort of names them too. Paul Hunter and Dirk Smith. Reading their testimony I can see how he was right to note them as liars.”
“How?”
“Both of their testimonies sounded very orchestrated. They were almost identical, word for word, but the defense lawyer hardly cross-examined them at all! All the two men did was repeat their original statements. You’ll just have to read it to believe it. And we need to go to Portland as soon as possible.”
“I agree. I’m almost to my client’s house. Why don’t you call Ian, and see when he can get free. I’ll call Peggy on my way home. Then we’ll strategize.”
Since Ian had given Annie his cellphone number she was less shy about contacting him. She had always allowed his secretary to intimidate her, thinking she was interrupting the mayor for frivolous things.
“OK. That’s a good plan. See you in a bit.”
When the two friends shared their conversations with Peggy and Ian, they were thrilled to find both of their fellow amateur sleuths wanted to go on the scavenger hunt—as Ian had called it—in Portland the very next day. Peggy needed to work the other days before Christmas, and Ian’s meeting the previous evening was his last scheduled one until after Christmas.
“Do you think you’re up to it?” Alice looked deep into Annie’s eyes, making sure her friend would answer honestly.
Annie nodded emphatically. “Absolutely. I took your advice and didn’t push myself, even after the fever left. And with all the nourishing soup I’ve been eating, I’m as healthy as I’ll ever be.” It was her turn to gaze at her friend. “But what about you? You’ve been crazy busy the last several weeks.”
“Yes, and because of that, I’m done for the holidays! A jaunt to Portland will be fun and a nice change of activity for me.”
They decided when and where the four sleuths should meet and called Peggy and Ian to tell them the hunt was on for the next day.
19
The clock on the wall of The Cup & Saucer read nine-fifteen when Annie, Alice, Peggy, and Ian left, travel mugs filled with coffee, to begin their day of clue tracking. Ian had offered to do the driving, and the women accepted quickly. The mayor drove as precisely as he served the town of Stony Point, and a safer driver would be hard to find anywhere.
As they approached his car, which was parked along Main Street, Ian asked, “Who’s going to ride shotgun?”
“I think the two older people should be in the front,” Alice suggested with a wicked smile.
“Uh huh.” Peggy registered her agreement with Alice.
“Milking those couple years for all it’s worth, eh?” Annie cocked one eyebrow at Alice.
“Of course I am.” Alice and Peggy positioned themselves on opposites sides of the back doors, waiting for them to be unlocked.
Annie looked over at Ian. “I hope you don’t need a navigator. My pathetic knowledge of Portland won’t be any use to you.”
“If we feel like getting lost, I’ll be sure to consult you,” Ian replied, opening the door for Annie. “I’ve been to Portland more times than I can count, but if we have any problems I’ll check the GPS.”
“Fair enough.” Annie buckled her seatbelt, holding the project bag she’d brought to hold all the court documents, spreadsheets, and notes she had made over the last few weeks. “I can’t believe I’m finally healthy enough to go to the Historical Society myself. Alice and Peggy, while you two talk to Mr. Gerrish, Ian and I can do some research on the Star Match Company’s history and try to discover why Uncle Will referred to it in his notations.”
Ian pulled out onto Main Street, heading south to Portland. “Was there anything in the court documents about the match company?” he asked.
“Absolutely no mention at all.” Annie lifted her shoulders into a little shrug. “I thought maybe one or both of the witnesses might have worked there, but one was a milk deliveryman and the other a fisherman, according to their testimony.”
Peggy leaned as far over the front seat as her seatbelt would allow. “The Historical Society should have plenty of information on it, since part of the building is still in use. It’s definitely a part of the city’s history.”
“I wish we had realized those three words were related before we’d gone the last time,” said Alice. “I’d been thinking the word ‘match’ was in reference to things that were equal. No wonder I couldn’t figure it out.”
“I hope Mr. Gerrish is working today.” Peggy rubbed her hands together. “He has some explaining to do.”
“Just remember, he might be from a completely different Gerrish family,” cautioned Ian. “Gerrish is a very old Maine name.”
Peggy wasn’t ready to give up hope. “Maybe. But if there’s no connection, why is it that the only pulpwood company he did not give us information on just happens to be the one formed by the merging of a company with the Gerrish name?”
“It would be quite a coincidence,” Ian conceded.
“Hey, could we listen to some music?” asked Alice. “Maybe a little classic rock?”
Peggy groaned. “Classic rock? And you were calling Annie old!”
Annie set her lips in a prim line. “I don’t mind listening to classic rock.”
“Not you too!” Peggy rolled her eyes and then breathed a defeated sigh. “Fine. Classic rock on the way there. But on the way home, can the young one choose?”
Ian selected WBLM, a station already programmed into his stereo system. “I think that can be arranged, Peggy.”
Less than an hour later Ian pulled into the Maine Historical Society parking lot on Brown Street.
As the four were walking toward the entrance of the Brown Library, Alice snapped her fingers. “Annie, we forgot to tell you. You’ll have to check your purse into a library locker after you’ve shown your driver’s license, so you’d better take anything you need for the research out of it and your project bag. They don’t allow any kind of bags or backpacks; even laptops have to be taken out of their cases.”
“Thanks for the warning. I’ll just pull out my spreadsheets, notepad, and pen.” Annie could understand why the research library would have such a policy, housing as many historical documents as they did.
“You’ll also have to fill out a form too,” added Peggy. “They’ll want your name, address, phone, what you’re researching, and you’ll have to sign a book. You have to really want to study something to jump through all the hoops.”
Ian opened the door and held it
as the three women walked through. “Every fishing expedition has its cost,” he quipped, “but it’s worth it if you hook a big one.”
A library staff member greeted Annie and Ian, and gave them the researcher registration forms to complete. As she filled out the form, Annie decided a membership would be a wise investment. After all, the attic was still filled with a jumble of things she hadn’t examined yet, and she seemed to be spending a good amount of time researching ever since her arrival in Stony Point. Handing the payment to the staff member, Annie added the day charge for Peggy. “Peggy’s an excellent research assistant,” she explained with a smile.
“Aw, Annie, you didn’t have to.” A blush dusted Peggy’s cheeks.
“I know I didn’t,” said Annie. “I wanted to. You’ve been such a help!”
While Ian and Annie finished filling out their forms, Alice asked the chestnut-haired woman, “Is Mr. Gerrish here? We need to talk with him about some research he helped us with about ten days ago.”
“I haven’t seen him around today.” She paused a moment, a puzzled look coming into her brown eyes. “Actually, I haven’t seen him for while. Let me check with the head librarian. Please wait here.” She indicated the nearest table, and Alice and Peggy sat down.
Peggy looked around at the other people in the large room, already deep into their research on the public access computers or at the tables with books, maps, and other papers. “Do you suppose we spooked Mr. Gerrish?” she asked Alice.
“He might just be sick. If not, I hope we can get some information from the librarian.” Alice nodded at Annie who was gesturing to her and pointing to the mezzanine. Ian was speaking to another staff member who turned and led them up the balcony stairs. “And I hope Ian and Annie can find some helpful information on the Star Match Company that will help us figure out how it’s connected to Dante’s trial.”
A tall, slender man with sandy hair and glasses approached Alice and Peggy, his walk silent as he almost glided across the hard surface of the floor. “Good morning. I’m Brian Mentink, the head librarian. Jenna tells me you’re asking for Mr. Gerrish, one of our docents.”
“Yes,” Alice confirmed. “Mr. Gerrish helped us research some interrelated topics from the 1920s and 1930s in Portland, and we had some additional questions for him.”
The librarian nodded. “Mr. Gerrish has an amazing mind and passion for history, particularly Maine history.” His left hand tapped a rhythm against his pants leg. “However, he has not come to work for several days.”
“Is Mr. Gerrish ill?” Alice asked. “It’s a tough season for colds and flu.”
Mr. Mentink paused, his eyes dropping away from Alice’s face. “Well. I don’t know,” he finally confessed. “It’s really quite unlike him to simply disappear like he has, but we’ve tried contacting him several times with no results.”
“I hope he’s all right,” said Peggy.
“As do I,” said Mr. Mentink. “Is there anything I can help you with in lieu of Mr. Gerrish?” His hand still tap tapped, but the pace was less frantic.
Alice glanced at Peggy for her reaction. Then answered, “We appreciate your offer, but we’ll wait for a time when Mr. Gerrish has returned. We’d hate to take your time up repeating to you what he already knows. Our friends should be done soon; we’ll just wait for them.”
“Please make yourselves comfortable. Would you like me to pass on contact information to Mr. Gerrish, when he has returned?” His tapping hand stopped and slid into his pant pocket, withdrawing a small memo pad. Taking the top sheet off, he offered it to Alice.
“Yes, I would, thank you.” Alice jotted down her first name and her email address. Her pen paused as she considered whether she should include a mention of the judge’s Bible, but she decided against it. She handed the slip of paper back to the man, mentally trying to guess his age—mid-thirties, perhaps.
“I’ll make sure he gets this as soon as possible,” Mr. Mentink said. Jenna approached him, gave the two women an apologetic look, and whispered something in his ear. “I’m afraid there’s something I need to attend to now. Enjoy your day.” Nodding politely to Alice and Peggy, Mr. Mentink turned to follow Jenna toward the bottom floor stacks. His steps still made no sound, despite the speed.
Alice and Peggy looked at each other. “Maybe we did spook him after all,” said Alice.
“If I ditched work, my boss would not sound so polite about it.” Peggy shook her head. “But Mr. Mentink sure is a nervous kind of guy. The way he fidgets, no wonder he’s so skinny.”
Alice gazed at the large arched windows set into the wall opposite their table. “I was beginning to wonder if he moonlights as a drummer in some alternative band.”
“Or even worse, he might be in a classic rock band,” Peggy deadpanned. “I hope Annie and Mr. Mayor find out more than we did.” Movement along the mezzanine railing caught her attention. “Looks like they’re heading for the stairs!”
Alice and Peggy stood and moved closer to the bottom of the stairs. “I think they found something,” said Alice. “Annie has excitement oozing out of her.”
“Were you able to talk to Mr. Gerrish?” Ian asked Alice and Peggy even before his feet touched the first floor.
Both women shook their heads. “He didn’t show up for work today. Hasn’t been here for several days, in fact,” said Peggy. “The librarian hasn’t been able to reach him.”
“Looks like you two may have had a more productive time,” said Alice.
Annie waved her spreadsheet. “We found the connection between the Star Match Company and the trial, and solved another mystery that’s been bothering us.”
Ian gestured toward the main entrance door. “Perhaps we should grab our things out of the lockers and talk once we’re outside.”
“That’s a good idea,” Annie agreed.
“Grab quick, then!” Peggy groaned. “The suspense is killing me!”
As soon as the door of the Brown Library closed behind them, Annie filled in the details for Alice and Peggy. “The library has an extensive collection of business papers, account books, all kinds of things from Maine companies and individuals.”
“Including the Star Match Company,” added Ian. “It was a simple matter of paging through to the years most likely to be connected with the trial.”
Annie turned to Alice. “Remember how upset I was when I found those receipts for the money wired to a woman, Gilda Serra? And how I thought perhaps William may have had an inappropriate relationship with her?”
“I do.” Alice had also been at a loss to figure out any alternative possibilities, outside of the woman perhaps being a laundress or cleaning woman, but that didn’t explain the need for wiring the money. Judge Holden could have simply handed her cash.
“We found her name on the employee list for the Star Match Company. She worked there for three years.”
Peggy stopped walking and asked, “What was her connection to the trial then? What does Star Match have to do with a ship filled with wood pulp?” The other three paused in their walk.
“I think the key is the verse connected to those words,” Annie answered, referring to her sheet. “‘Thou hast sent widows away empty, and the arms of the fatherless have been broken.’ Job 22:9.”
“So this Gilda was possibly Dante’s widow?” Peggy pictured how hard it would be for her, if Wally were suddenly taken from her and Emily. “But his last name was Bianco, right?”
Annie gestured behind her toward the Historical Society library. “I’m pleased I paid for a membership because the staff has already earned it. Once we went upstairs, a collections staff member pointed out to us that traditionally Italian women kept their maiden names after marriage. She even checked and confirmed the Serra and Bianco families did overlap in several regions of Italy.”
“Her knowledge was impressive,” Ian agreed. “She also showed us some descriptions of the hazards of working for the match industry. It was very dangerous.”
Annie grimaced. �
�She found photos too—of employees who suffered from phosphorous poisoning. It could literally eat away a person’s jaw.”
“How horrible!” Peggy exclaimed, her mouth dropping open. “It sounds like a horror movie … or a nightmare. Except you wake up, and it’s no dream.” She reminded herself to stop complaining about her job—ever.
Ian looked around at the old buildings that surrounded them. “When you realize that William knew what Bianco’s widow had to do to try to support her family … well, it really puts a perspective on why William couldn’t put the results of the trial behind him,” he said. “They only made about five dollars a week.”
“No wonder William started wiring money,” Alice said quietly.
“Since we know the connection between the Star Match Company and the trial, I guess we don’t technically need to go there,” said Annie. “But would y’all mind if we went anyway? I’d still like to see it, kind of a salute to those who worked so hard for their families.”
Peggy nodded. “I like that idea, Annie.” She looked at Alice and Ian.
“Definitely,” Alice’s agreed.
Ian pulled out his smartphone and consulted a map of the area. “The Star Match building is just outside of Old Port on Commercial Street, and on the other end of Commercial is where India Street intersects, one of the places we’re headed.” He quickly tapped something into a search box. “The Sea Rose Diner just happens to be in the middle.”
“So we can go to the factory and then stop for lunch,” Peggy finished for him. “Right, Mr. Mayor?”
“That’s my thinking,” confirmed Ian.
“Let’s do it.” Annie started to walk forward and then stopped. “Should we walk or drive? How far is it to the factory?”
Ian glanced at his navigator app. “It’s 1.3 miles from the factory to India Street. Since you’re just recovering, I’d suggest driving to the factory and diner. Then we can park nearby and walk to the other places, if the cold won’t bother you too much.”
“Sounds manageable,” said Annie, “even for a recent invalid.” The cold December weather had painted her cheeks with a rosy blush and anticipation shone from her green eyes. She was an entirely different woman than she had been a week ago.