by Marja McGraw
I reminded myself that this wasn’t a book, but real life. Someone had murdered the original Elsbeth and I was treating things like it was all a lark. It wasn’t.
I added Ruth Cameron to my list. She’d been doing some kind of favors for old Carrie and I wanted to know what kind of favors those were. She was upset with me, or old Carrie, and didn’t want to be around me. Of course, she thought I was a strumpet, a woman of loose morals. Come to think of it, I was sure she’d called me a hussy. Hmm.
She seemed to be wearing Elsbeth’s locket. Did Carrie give it to her or had she taken it from the house? She knew something. I could feel it in my bones. Somehow I’d make her talk to me.
I wrote down Eugene Hoover’s name. He was a rejected suitor, wanting Elsbeth for himself. He seemed like a mealy-mouthed sop to me, but after all, he was an actor. He could be trying to make himself invisible, while actually being a force to be reckoned with.
Good grief! A mealy-mouthed sop? I was truly beginning to think in 1909 terms.
Jesse Baker, the local perv, went on the list. Could he actually be leaving town because he thought we were on to him? If he drank as much as everyone said he did, then I had my doubts about him. It’s difficult to be quiet and sneaky when you’re falling down drunk.
I added Clarence, Ruth’s brother, to my list. I didn’t know much about him, but I got the feeling he was involved in whatever Ruth had up her sleeve. He seemed like a nice enough guy, but sometimes those were the ones you had to look out for. After all, the word was that he was a bully.
I had to remind myself that there could be someone we hadn’t thought of, so I added a question mark to my list.
Okay, I thought, if I were writing a book, how would I put all of this together? That could be a problem, because if I were writing a book, I’d be using more imagination and fewer facts.
Then again, if I were writing a book, I just might go fishing.
I heard the front door open and Papa hollered, “Jane? Where are you?”
“I’m in the kitchen with an author,” she called back. “Come on in and meet her.”
Chapter Thirty-three
Tess opened the back door and ran into the house like the little whirlwind she was. “What did you say about an author, Mama? I want to be one, too.”
I was surprised. “You’d like to be a writer?”
“I would. I can make up some good stories. Just ask Mama.”
I looked at Tess’s mother. “She can spin tall tales with the best of them. You know that, Carrie. You’ve heard her tell yarns. Oh. Wait. I think you ignore a lot of what your little sister says.” She laughed quietly, more to herself than aloud.
“Not anymore,” I said. “If she’s got writing talent, then she needs to use it.”
Tess ran forward and gave me a huge bear hug. “I sure like you better now.”
I didn’t know how to answer her. How had old Carrie treated her? I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
Papa walked into the kitchen followed by Daniel and Nathaniel.
Mama sobered up quickly. “What happened with Willy?”
“First, who’s this author person you’re talking about? There’s nobody here but family.”
It was Elsbeth’s turn to grin. “Why, Papa, Carrie is going to write books. Can you believe it?”
“I’ll believe it when I see it. I can’t see her lifting a finger to… Uh, I’m sorry, Carrie. I didn’t mean – “
“It’s okay, Papa. I’ll just have to prove myself to you.” There was no rancor or sarcasm in my tone. Like Mama had said, women weren’t at the top of the writing ladder in her day.
I wished there was some way he could know a future granddaughter would be a relatively successful mystery writer. Okay, maybe I wasn’t a bestselling author in my day, but it could happen. And although small amounts, I did earn royalties from my writing. My publisher had high hopes for me.
I shook my head. My writing didn’t matter at the moment, or in the grand scheme of things, other than maybe helping us figure out who killed the original Elsbeth.
I glanced at Nathaniel. He pulled on his mustache to hide his mouth, which was covered with a grin. He knew the truth about me.
I cleared my throat. “Mama wants to know what happened at Willy’s, and so do the rest of us.”
Papa glanced at Tess. She had no clue what was going on. Whoever was behind this didn’t seem to want to go after her or Mama. I hoped I was right. We should be keeping a better eye on her – on both of them.
“Tess, would you please go out to the barn and check on those kittens?” I asked. I’d forgotten about the ladder issues. “On second thought, don’t – “
Papa interrupted me. “It’s okay, Carrie. I fixed it.”
Inwardly, I breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, Tess, go check on the kittens. I’ll bet they’re running around and playing by now.”
“What’s wrong with the ladder?” she asked.
“It was broken, but Papa fixed it, like he said.”
“Oh. I’ll see if I can get the cow to give me a little milk for them.” She skipped out of the house, ready to carry out her mission. Never mind that the mother cat would provide plenty of sustenance for the kittens. A little extra couldn’t hurt.
Tess was a happy little girl. I hoped nothing in her life would change the joy I saw in her.
Papa stood next to Mama. “I think we put the fear of God into that man. He and his father are like two peas in a pod. They both have a mean streak. His pa surprised me though. He took after Willy for threatening the girls, said he hadn’t raised ‘no son of his to be a bully boy.’”
He turned to the McGee men.
“I don’t think it hurt any to have these two with me. At first Matt looked like he was gonna come after me, but when he looked at these two he seemed to think better of it. That’s when he turned on Willy. All I can say is, I’m glad I’m not in Willy’s shoes.”
Mama slapped her hand on top of the bread dough. “Do you think he’s the weasel that’s been botherin’ our daughters?”
“Can’t tell, Jane. I did what I could, but I’m still not taking my eyes off the girls. That actor fella’s been talked to, and so have Jesse and Willy. I hope this is the end of it.”
“Me, too,” Elsbeth said.
Nathaniel walked to my side. “Let’s go outside. I could use some fresh air.”
I raised my eyebrows at him, picked up my papers, stuck my pencil in my pocket, and followed him out.
“What’s that?” he asked, pointing at my hand.
“Notes. It finally struck me that I’ve been coming at this in a personal way. I need to use my mystery writer sense in looking at the facts.”
We sat down on the porch and he took the pages from my hand, immediately becoming engrossed in what I’d written.
He set the notes down and looked into my eyes. “What do you think this is all about? I don’t mean for you to tell me who you think is behind these dastardly doings, but why is this happening?”
I watched people from the neighborhood while I thought about my answer. A woman was pushing her child down the street in a perambulator, or in my world, what would be called a baby carriage. Another was picking flowers from her garden. A man was on his roof, apparently fixing a leak, which was a good idea. There were dark and heavy looking clouds on the horizon.
“One thing I’ve learned is greed, hate, jealousy, passion… Well, so many things can be behind a crime. In this instance, I believe the first two attacks were unplanned and crimes of convenience. I think that when the killer thought Elsbeth had survived her fall down the stairs, she began to plan instead of just reacting.”
“She?” Nathaniel narrowed his eyes and looked at me. “You think it’s a woman?”
“Huh. I guess I do. And that reminds me, I forgot to put Marie on my list. She seems to have an intense dislike for Elsbeth and Carrie. As much as she gossips, I have a feeling that the sisters are foremost in her sights. Talk about having a target drawn on
your back.”
With his index finger and thumb, Nathaniel smoothed his mustache and ran those same fingers along his lower lip. “You could be right. I hadn’t thought about it being a woman.”
“I’ve said it before. Someone is playing a cat and mouse game with her prey. She wants to make them nervous so they’re constantly looking over their shoulders for a predator.”
He chewed on his lower lip for a moment. “I’m beginning to understand why Elsbeth brags on your books so much. You have a mind for this kind of thing.”
“She brags about me?” That little piece of knowledge made me smile.
“She does, but don’t go gettin’ all full of your own self-worth.”
I couldn’t stop smiling.
“Get over yourself, girl. Remember that the Bible says to be humble, or so I’ve been told.”
“Trust me. Whenever I receive royalties, or money for my writing, I’m as humble as humble can be. It makes me work harder on the next book.”
“I think that might be something good.”
“Enough of that.” I picked up the list and pulled my pencil out of my pocket, adding Marie to the list.
Nathaniel took the list out of my hand again. “If you crossed all the men off this list, it would only leave Ruth and Marie. Maybe we need to take a closer look at them.”
“I agree, but don’t forget Ruth’s brother. We haven’t taken a good look at Clarence, either. Maybe Ruth’s behind all of this, and using her brother to help her.”
“It’s a thought. I’ll ponder that some. I’m tryin’ to remember some of the detectin’ things I learned, but none of it seems to apply to what’s happening here.”
“Keep thinking. We may not have the modern technology I’d like to use in this case, but good Ol’ Time investigating should work. You know a lot more about investigations in 1909 than I do.”
“I keep thinking about fingerprints, but we’d have to get all the suspects to offer theirs up, and that won’t really do any good because we’ve all touched the things that might have helped, like the knife.”
I sighed. “I think you’d have trouble talking these people into giving us their prints anyway. They’d be too suspicious, even if they weren’t guilty of anything.”
“I like that word you said – technology. Tell me more about your day. No, wait. You’re from the future. Tell me some of the things that will happen in my lifetime.” Nathaniel had a healthy curiosity.
Maybe I could give him a few tips that would make his life better. One could always hope.
For some reason, the first thing that came to mind was the Spanish flu. I told him about it in the hopes he could protect himself.
I told him about World War I and World War II, even though he wouldn’t be around for the second one. Well, he could be, but he’d be too old to join up. I told him that Woodrow Wilson would be the next president and that in my time an actor would become president.
He scoffed at that idea. “Can you imagine someone like Eugene Hoover as the President of the United States?” He laughed whole-heartedly at the very idea of Eugene in office.
I told him as much as I could remember, which wasn’t much, about his time on earth.
“Now tell me about this technology you keep talking about.”
I was half afraid I’d overwhelm him and I tried to keep it to a minimum.
“You’re really not spinning a yarn about your day?” he asked. “It’s like reading a book of things that somebody made up.”
A Tin Lizzy drove past us.
“Wait until I tell you about modern cars.”
“I’m all ears.” He sat forward in his chair, expectantly.
Chapter Thirty-four
Nathaniel and I talked for a long time. The look on his face made me feel like he wasn’t sure if I was making things up or not.
“Technology just keeps moving faster and faster. I don’t have a history book in front of me so I’m guessing, but I think the first full-length movie with sound, a ‘talkie’ movie with Al Jolson, came out in the late 1920s. He was a singer. There were short versions of movies with sound prior to that, but – “
Nathaniel was overwhelmed, but only to a point. “It’s hard to imagine a moving picture with sound when I think about the ones we saw at the theater. The way you describe automobiles needs even more imagination. What you told me before about… What did you call them? Computers? That sounds like something they wouldn’t even think to put in books today. I can’t help it. I want to see these things.”
“One day people will watch old and new movies on television. Did I tell you about cell phones yet? I can’t remember. Well, I’ve got one here. I can show it to you, but obviously it won’t work.”
“Yes, you told me about cell phones. Why won’t it work? Oh. Technology. We’re prob’ly missing technology things in 1909 that would make it work. And what’s a telebision?”
I smiled at him. “I love your enthusiasm. You wait here and I’ll go get the cell phone. We’ll talk about televisions later.”
He sat back in his chair and patiently waited for me.
The cell phone was right where I’d left it, under the mattress.
Back downstairs, I handed it to Nathaniel. “Don’t let anyone else see it. Tess discovered it and I told her I’d found it on the road, that it must have been something new someone was trying to invent. I don’t think she believed me.”
“There’s not much to look at,” he said, handing it back to me.
I took it out of the phone cover, opened it and handed it back to him.
He studied it for a long time, gently touching the internal workings and saying, “Huh” several times. He finally handed it back to me.
“Does that help you believe the things I’m telling you?” I put the phone back together.
“Sure does, and if I was a drinkin’ man, I’d run right over to Jesse’s and get some hooch from him before you tell me more.”
It suddenly struck me and I turned on the phone. Thank heaven I’d charged it before I’d traveled. I was excited. “Wait until you see this.”
“See what?”
“Just wait. Smile at me.” I pointed my cell phone in his direction.
He smiled, but it was a polite smile, not one of real joy.
“Think of something funny. I want an honest smile.”
He thought for a moment, shrugged, and a smile slowly crossed his face.
I took three pictures of him before I told him he could stop smiling.
“What were you thinking of?” I asked.
“I was remembering how you keep getting tangled up in your skirt and how you fell the first day, when I met you.”
“Funny guy.”
I turned the phone toward him so he could see the pictures.
The look on his face was priceless. “Who’s this ugly bugger?” He laughed, sounding almost giddy for a man. “I guess I’d believe just about anything you tell me after seeing this.”
“I think that’s enough for now.” I shoved the cell phone into my pocket. I was really glad most of the clothes I was wearing had pockets. I was even happier that I now had pictures of Nathaniel. I’d never forget him as long as I lived.
“Like I said, I want to see the things you’ve been telling me about. The very idea of a Tin Lizzy having hot and cold air just boggles my mind. Some smart people thought up some good technology.” He grinned as he used his new favorite word again.
“Believe me, if you saw cars from my day, you wouldn’t call them Tin Lizzies.”
Elsbeth stepped out onto the porch with Daniel following her. “Don’t forget, we told Mother Possum we’d be back to see her.” She held a plate of food in her hand. “I’m going to take this over to her.”
“I’ll go with you,” I said. “But first…”
I pulled the cell phone out of my pocket and snapped a picture of her and Daniel. My aunt laughed when she saw the look on Daniel’s face as he studied the picture.
“My brother an
d I need to get some work done anyway. We’ve been letting things go for too long.” Nathaniel stood and nodded at his brother.
The two men left and I could hear Daniel ask about the pictures on the cell phone.
“You won’t believe some of this, but…” I couldn’t hear anymore as they walked away.
My aunt and I headed for Mother’s house.
“I told Daniel about going fishing.” Elsbeth glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. “He wasn’t too excited about the idea. In fact, he blabbed to Papa about it and he was even less excited.”
“Maybe they’re right. Maybe we shouldn’t offer ourselves up as bait.” Writing about people doing things like that and actually doing them were two different things. I wasn’t excited either.
“Oh, come on. Papa and the boys will be watching over us. What’s to worry about?”
I thought about the mousetrap and the buried knife, along with the ladder and stool breaking. “Plenty.”
Once again, I was afraid Mother Possum had died while sitting in her chair, until she burped a very unfeminine burp followed by a snort. She was merely sleeping.
Her eyes popped open when Elsbeth opened the gate and it creaked. She started to speak, but only managed to make a strangled sound. After clearing her throat, she welcomed us. That pipe was going to be the death of her, but at her age, I guess it didn’t matter.
“Do you know how old she is?” I asked.
My aunt shushed me with a light jab to my arm. “She can still hear really well, you know. You could drop a pin on the porch while she’s in bed asleep, and she’d hear it.”
I heard the crackling sound the old woman made from time to time and realized she was laughing. “I don’t even know how old I am. Somewheres near ninety-six as I reckon it. Maybe even more, but no less. I think I already said I was ninety-six.”