A Sacrificial Matter

by Ilona Fridl

  “Mr. Taylor at the hotel, Kata, and the Shafers at the theater.”

  He nodded. “All of them are trustworthy. Looks like we have to wait for you to get in with the group and let them relax around you.”

  Sarah paused. “We’d better get back to the theater. We can work this out before the meeting next month.”

  Amos felt better about Sarah, but he couldn’t shake the dread in his gut.

  Chapter 5

  Sarah was working in her office the next morning when Mary rapped at the door. “Mr. Taylor is here to see you.”

  “Send him in. Tell Amos to join us.”

  “That I will.”

  Mr. Taylor came in and pulled out a paper from his inside jacket pocket. Amos came in a few seconds later. “Mrs. Darcy, this envelope came this morning for Roma Spiros.” He handed it to her. “I’d already told my staff if they got anything for a Roma Spiros to give it to me.”

  “Thank you for helping us, Mr. Taylor.”

  “Good day to you, Mrs. Darcy, Mr. Darcy.” He tipped his hat and left.

  Sarah opened the envelope and extracted a large fold of papers. She perused the pages with Amos peering over her shoulder. “This is the initiation ceremony. Hiram says I’ll need a sheathed knife with a black hilt and nine lengths of red, white, and blue cords, two feet each. Also, I’m to steal a bottle of sacramental wine from the church.”

  Amos straightened. “Well, we could get them on theft, but maybe I can talk to the priest to contribute to the investigation.” He paused. “Since you’re going to be here for a while, I found Lidia’s parents and thought I’d go ask them a few questions. If Sam stops in, let him know.” He kissed Sarah and was off.

  Sarah studied the ceremony and hoped they would have solved the case by next month. She wouldn’t like to swear to things she didn’t believe in.

  ****

  Amos turned the bell on a modest home outside of town. He slapped his neck. The mosquitoes were getting bad as the summer was heating up. A pleasant-looking lady with a graying bun tight on her head opened the door.

  “Yes?”

  Amos took off his hat. “Mrs. Clark? I’m detective Amos Darcy, and I’m working on the investigation into your son-in-law’s death. May I ask you some questions?”

  She opened the screened door. “Come in.”

  Waving a hand toward a chair in the parlor, she invited, “Please sit, Mr. Darcy. This is my husband.”

  Amos put his hand out. “Mr. Clark?”

  The man in the overstuffed chair by the window reached out a shaky hand and weakly grasped Amos’. “P-Please forgive me…f-for not g-getting up.”

  Mrs. Clark shook her head sadly. “He’s had the shakes for two years now.”

  “I’m sorry.” Amos sat in the offered chair and took out a notepad and pencil. “Tell me about your daughter’s marriage. Was it happy, in your opinion?”

  The Clarks glanced at each other. Mrs. Clark said, “Well, they seemed to be learning to get on together.”

  Amos wrote that down and tapped the pad. “That’s a strange thing to say.”

  Mrs. Clark sighed. “You see, Abner wasn’t the one she wanted to marry. She was in love with his brother.”

  “That was Calvin Wells?”

  She nodded. “We talked her out of marrying Calvin, because a ship’s captain is gone for long periods of time and we felt Abner was stable. Now it looks like he was a devil worshiper.” She pulled out her handkerchief. “Poor, poor Lidia.”

  “Did she ever talk to you about anyone who was upset with Abner in any way?”

  “No. Abner seemed to be a quiet soul who kept to himself.”

  “Was he in the habit of taking opium, that you knew of?”

  Her eyes grew large. “Oh, no, Mr. Darcy. Abner was very prudent.”

  Amos pocketed his pad and pencil and rose. “Thank you, Mrs. Clark, that’s all the questions I have for now.”

  She stood and walked him to the door. “Good day to you, Mr. Darcy.”

  “Good day.” He put his hat on and glanced at Mr. Clark. “And a good day to you, too, sir.” Mr. Clark raised his hand a bit.

  Amos got into the auto and sat in thought for a moment. He pulled out his notepad and flipped to the information about Calvin Wells. Sam had given him the word that Calvin was the captain of the passenger liner Polaris that traveled from Seattle to Anchorage and back. I think I’ll make a stop at the harbor on the way back to the office.

  The channel breezes brought up the salty, oily smell of the docks as Amos stopped by the passenger office and waiting area of the Constellation Liners. A young man in a uniform glanced up from his desk in the reception area. “May I help you, sir?”

  Amos removed his hat. “Yes. Can you tell me when the liner Polaris is expected in?”

  He opened a ledger and ran his finger down a column. “Ah, here we are. It’s expected around two tomorrow afternoon. Do you want to book a trip?”

  Amos shook his head. “No, I’m expecting someone.” He put his hat on. “Thank you.” Amos made a mental note to greet the ship tomorrow.

  ****

  Sarah set Nat in his playpen when she heard Amos come back. “Sam stopped by fifteen minutes ago and said he would be back in a half hour to see if you’d returned. I have to put on my Roma disguise and go to Millie’s for lunch. Hiram wants to talk to me.”

  “Are you sure no one at Millie’s will recognize you? We have eaten there frequently.”

  “Millie knows we work undercover at times. I don’t think she’ll say anything. Nat’s been fed and changed. He should be good for the afternoon.”

  Sarah hurried to her office and took Roma out of the box. She also had a change of clothes so she could transform completely. After kissing Amos and waving to Mary, Sarah slid out the back door and into the alley. It wouldn’t do for anyone to see Roma going in and out of the detective agency.

  She had affected a different gait for Roma, so she used that to travel the two blocks to the restaurant. She went into the cheery storefront restaurant and glanced around for Hiram. He was seated in the back, away from the busy lunch crowd bustle. He waved her over.

  “I’m glad you were able to make it.”

  Sarah put her pocketbook down and was grateful her back was to the patrons. “Thank you for inviting me. I do have questions.”

  One of the waitresses came over, and Hiram ordered for both of them. When the waitress left, he said, “I hope stew and biscuits are fine with you.”

  She nodded. “Yes, thank you. Mr. Bates, I do have reservations on you asking me to steal.”

  “Trouble is, we need real wine for our rites, and it’s either that or dealing with a bootlegger. It’s against the law no matter what we do.”

  “Could you tell me how all of you got together? Pagan rites and nudity don’t usually come up over coffee.”

  He chuckled. “You’re quite right, Miss Spiros. They were all in my class at the Institute and asked if we could form a coven.”

  “Tell me about the naturalist camp. Are they all members of your group?”

  “No. There are many families there who believe in the health benefits of being outside as nature intended them.”

  “Families?”

  “Yes. From the very young to the very old. These are people who totally reject their Victorian upbringing.”

  Sarah was deeply troubled by this. It was one thing to do this in front of adults, but in front of children? “Are there any families in your group?”

  “No, not at this time.”

  “And where did you say you gather at this camp?”

  “We usually have our rites near the graveyard that borders the camp.”

  Sarah faked a gasp. “The graveyard? Isn’t that where they found a body?”

  His lips pursed. “He wasn’t connected with us in any way.” He was a little too fast with that answer, in her opinion. Their lunch order arrived, and he wasn’t interested in pursuing that topic any further, so Sarah turned the conver
sation to the more mundane facts of the ceremony, but she wondered about his reaction. Did he know anything about the killing? Did he do it?

  After lunch, he offered to drop her back at work, but she declined and hurried back to the office via the alleys. Sarah cautiously opened the rear door. When Mary turned, Sarah pointed to the lobby.

  “Ah, no, Mrs. Darcy. The only one here is the sheriff.”

  Sarah sighed, slid into the room, and crossed it to knock on the door of Amos’ office. “It’s me.” When she opened it, Sam gave a start.

  He shook his head. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you in that get-up.”

  She sidled next to Sam and put an arm around him. “Roma knows all and Roma sees all,” she purred.

  Sam pushed her away. “Cut it out, Sarah. What did you find out?”

  She told them about her suspicions of Hiram and his group. “If he didn’t do it, I think he knows who did. I didn’t press the issue, because that would raise questions about me.”

  Amos filled her in on Lidia’s parents and Calvin Wells. “I’m going to try to find out what I can from the captain tomorrow.”

  Sarah turned to Sam. “What’s the word on the co-workers at the bank?”

  Sam flipped open his notepad. “Nobody was aware that he was falsifying the books, although the head accountant was supposed to be checking. Nothing goes through without his initials.”

  “Could Abner have been falsifying the receipts, as well?”

  Sam frowned. “That’s possible. He could have put one amount on the customer’s copy and a different one on the bank’s, pocketing the difference. Maybe more of the customers that dealt with Wells could bring in their copies, to check.”

  Amos shook his head. “That still doesn’t give us a clue why he was killed or who did it. If someone at the bank knew, they could have turned him in.”

  Sarah leaned against the desk. “It could be that the embezzlement and the murder aren’t related.”

  Sam sighed. “Looks like we have a lot more work to do.” He turned to Amos. “Tell me what you find out on Calvin Wells.”

  “I’ll be over tomorrow after I see him.”

  After Sam left, Sarah tapped her foot. “We keep finding puzzle pieces that don’t seem to fit anywhere.”

  Amos growled. “What we need to find is a big hammer to make them fit.”

  Sarah grinned. “Maybe we will.” She patted his shoulder and slid out of his office to put Roma away.

  Chapter 6

  A gray, wet fog blanketed the channel, while gulls screeched unseen overhead. Amos checked his watch. Two o’clock on the dot. A number of people milled around, in and out of the passenger area at the Constellation Lines office. A whistle blast was heard in the distance, and many people picked up their suitcases and satchels. Amos waved at a dock worker by the ramp.

  “How long is the liner going to be in port?”

  The young man glanced at him. “Four hours, sir.”

  Amos flipped him a quarter. “Thank you. I have someone coming in that needs some help. May I go on?”

  “Yes, sir. Just be off before the last call.”

  Amos thanked him with another quarter and watched as the huge shadow formed itself into a ship. The ramp connected with a clatter and a bang. Amos watched the passengers disembark, careful to see if anyone in uniform appeared. When the crowd had thinned to only a few last-minute people, he hurried up the ramp.

  A purser was standing at the top with his clipboard. He glanced at Amos. “Yes, sir? May I help you?”

  Amos showed him his identification. “May I see Captain Wells? Where can I find him?”

  The purser checked Amos’ card. “What is this about?”

  “I need to ask him some questions in regard to his brother’s death.”

  The purser waved at a crewman. “Terrence, take Mr. Darcy to the captain’s office.” He showed the crewman the identification.

  They walked a series of steps and corridors to an undecorated part of the ship, where they followed a passageway with doors labeled with the names of the officers and their pictures next to their corresponding rooms. They stopped by a door at the end of the hall with the name Capt. Calvin Wells. Next to it was a picture of a man with a neatly trimmed but full red beard.

  The crewman rapped on the door. “Captain Wells? There’s a Mr. Darcy here to see you from the Darcy Detective Agency.”

  A voice came from within. “Send him in.”

  The captain rose from his desk as Amos walked in. Belying his picture, Wells had a scraggly growth on his face. Amos turned to the crewman. “Thank you.”

  “You may go, Terrence.” The crewman inclined his head and closed the door. He turned his attention to Amos. “What may I do for you, Mr. Darcy?” He waved his hand to an empty chair.

  Amos sat. “I’m helping the sheriff on the investigation of your brother’s death.” Amos took out his notepad. “How did you get along with your brother?”

  Calvin sat back. “Not well, I’m afraid. We’ve been estranged for two years.”

  “What happened?”

  “Our parents died three years ago, at sea. They didn’t leave a will, and my brother managed to pilfer most of their assets before the court got to it.”

  “Did you know that your brother was accused of embezzling from the bank?”

  Calvin snorted. “It wouldn’t surprise me. He also stole the girl I was going to marry.”

  Amos nodded. “I talked to her parents. They seem to have had a hand in her decision, as well.” Amos leaned forward. “Where were you the night of June twenty-first?”

  A small smile played on his lips. “I was downing cocktails at a speakeasy. I don’t know who will come forth and give me an alibi. No, Mr. Darcy, I didn’t kill Abner.”

  “Were you aware that he might have been in a pagan spiritualist group?”

  He shook his head. “I wasn’t aware of anything he was doing for the last two years.”

  Amos stood and extended his hand. “Thank you, Captain Wells, that’s all I have.”

  Wells rose and shook hands with him. “You’re welcome, Mr. Darcy. Sorry I couldn’t be of any more help.” When Wells walked Amos to the door, Amos stopped and looked at the picture on the wall again.

  Amos pointed to it. “You must have shaved off your beard in the last couple of weeks.”

  Wells dragged his fingers over his chin. “Yes, I did, but I didn’t like it that way, so I’m growing it back.”

  Amos nodded. “I wouldn’t even think of shaving my mustache off. It would be like losing a limb.” Amos turned and headed down the corridor. Way down inside his brain, he noted that Calvin looked very like his brother without the heavy beard.

  Back at his auto, the heavy mist was starting to ease. Amos drove carefully to the Russian Orthodox church. He parked on the side of the road and knocked on the door of the rectory. A graying man with a long beard opened the door. “Amos Darcy! It’s good to see you again. How may I help you?”

  Amos took his hat off and stepped inside. “I have a favor to ask of you, Father Andre. Where do you keep the sacrificial wine?”

  The priest paused. “Is this official business?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  Father Andre turned. “Follow me.” He led Amos to a cellar door, which he unlocked, and they traveled down stone steps to a cool dank room. Rows of wooden crates held wine bottles labeled For Churches Only.

  Amos hesitated. “Father, I need a bottle of wine.”

  The priest frowned. “You understand I can’t give you one of these.” He pressed the key into Amos’ palm. “Please lock the door before you leave. The key goes into the top middle drawer of my desk.” He turned and went up the stairs.

  Amos half-smiled as he unfolded a canvas bag he had brought with him and selected a bottle from one of the crates. Concealing it in the bag, he strode up to the empty office and dropped the key into the desk.

  Amos stopped at the sheriff’s office to give Sam the report on Cal
vin Wells. When he got back to the agency, Sarah and Mary were wrapping up for the day. Amos went into Sarah’s office and unlocked her cabinet, pulled out the canvas bag, and was about to deposit the wine in the back of the cabinet when Sarah tapped him on the shoulder. “That should be put in the icebox at home.”

  “What if someone sees it?”

  Sarah gave him a funny look. “Who usually goes through our icebox?”

  Amos paused. “You’re right.” He dropped it back into the bag with Nat’s things. “Let’s go home.”

  He drove the family to their freshly renovated house. Where there had been a small one-bedroom cottage several months ago now stood a lovely white clapboard bungalow with blue shutters and trim. The construction crews had finished their work last week, and it looked brand-spanking new. They now had two bedrooms and a bath upstairs and had added an indoor water closet downstairs.

  Amos turned the auto into the new driveway leading to a garage built for their Oldsmobile. It echoed the colors of the house. While Sarah took Nat inside, Amos put the auto away and came inside to a fussy Nat in his playpen. Sarah was heating the skillet and opening a can of hash.

  Amos picked up the grumpy child. “Simmer down, boy. Ma’s fixing supper. Let me get you in the high chair.” He tied Nat in and gave him a saltine from the tin on the shelf. “That’ll keep you busy for a few minutes.”

  Sarah soon put a plate of fried hash, onions, and eggs on the table. “Sit,” she ordered as she sliced the bread. She put some of the hash and eggs in a small bowl, mashing it fine. This she gave to Nat with a small spoon. The boy happily started spreading it on his face, finding his mouth occasionally.

  Amos chuckled and shook his head. “Got to start teaching him some table manners one of these days.”

  After supper, Amos whisked the boy away so Sarah could clean the kitchen. He sat Nat on the wooden chair in the bathroom and with a wet washcloth rid the boy of the unfinished bits of supper. Amos hadn’t realized he would love fatherhood so much. His own father hadn’t paid much attention to him when he was small and was dead by the time Amos was thirteen.

  Nat started to fuss, and Amos changed him into night clothes. The little one was beginning to nod off when Amos took him into the kitchen to tell Ma goodnight, then tucked him into his crib with a most impressive stuffed bear. Amos came back into the parlor to find Sarah with her nose stuck in an occult book.