The Sign of Death

by Callie Hutton

  When her mother was alive, her parents had maintained an amicable relationship but lived their lives separately. Papa and her brother, Michael, had resided in London, and Amy and her mother had lived in Bath with Aunt Margaret.

  Mother had hated the noise and smell of London, whereas Papa loved the hustle and bustle of the city. Since there were two children of the marriage, there had to have been a time when they lived together, but for as long as Amy could remember, they’d had separate residences. She’d never questioned the arrangement, because it hadn’t seemed odd to her at the time. Not until she became a woman had she wondered about it.

  The church was slowly filling up, and greetings and chatter among the congregants almost—but not quite—blocked out Mrs. Edith Newton’s organ playing. The poor dear was almost blind and hit the wrong notes on a regular basis.

  They settled into their seats, and Amy looked around and smiled. As much as she loved writing about murder and mayhem, she also loved Sunday mornings, when her heart was at peace.

  The sunlight streaming through the windows cast an ethereal glow over the congregation. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

  “Move over.”

  Amy’s eyes snapped open to see Eloise Spencer squeezing into the pew alongside her, pushing with her considerable hips to get Amy to make room.

  “Good morning to you too, Eloise.” Amy slid over and grinned at her companion, who always looked as if she had just finished a race. Of course, she usually arrived at places having raced there. Between her peculiarity and Amy’s unconventionality, they made an excellent pair and had been close friends for ages.

  Amy’s father considered Eloise a “hoyden.” Which was more than enough to recommend her to Amy.

  “Have you started the new book yet?” Eloise attempted to rearrange her somewhat disheveled outfit.

  Amy reached out and tucked a loose curl behind Eloise’s ear. “For the book club? The Sign of the Four?”

  “Yes. I am finding it quite intriguing.”

  Eloise, William, and Amy belonged to the Mystery Book Club of Bath, which held meetings every Thursday evening at the Atkinson & Tucker bookstore. They would read a book, then discuss it for a week or two, and then move on to another one.

  “Actually, I’ve been working on my own book and haven’t started The Sign of the Four yet. I’ve run into some plotting problems that have me twisted in knots. But I understand The Sign of the Four is quite good.”

  “Yes.” Eloise nodded. “I wonder when we will read another one of yours?”

  Whenever the club decided to read one of E. D. Burton’s books, Amy had a difficult time not blurting out that she was the author. When she received her first contract from her publisher, Papa had insisted she use a pen name so no one would know his delicate, gently reared young daughter felt comfortable writing about bloody body parts and grisly murders.

  “Soon, I hope. There are still two more they haven’t selected yet.”

  In the six years she’d been publishing, Amy had written five books, the one sitting on her desk at home being the sixth. She had another month to meet the deadline for that one.

  Mr. Palmer, the pastor at St. Swithin’s, walked up the center aisle to the front of the church and turned to address the congregation. “Good morning, fellow worshipers. I am happy you have joined us, and I ask that you all stand and greet each other before our service begins.”

  The man was friendly and had a cheerful demeanor, unlike the last pastor they’d had. The previous reverend had been a sour man, all fire and brimstone. Amy had apologized to God for being happy when Mr. Benson was moved to another church and they got Mr. Palmer in his place.

  The pastor stepped down and walked around, shaking hands, listening to sad tales, and pinching the cheeks of chubby babies. Since Amy had greeted everyone as they arrived, she remained in her seat and flipped through her Bible, looking for the verses on which this week’s sermon was based.

  The church attendees settled down and gave their attention to Pastor Palmer. As usual, the sermon was uplifting, the songs off-key, and the company of friends alongside her comforting.

  After leaving the line of congregants wishing the pastor a good day at the end of the service, Amy linked her arm through her friend’s and began to walk. “Eloise, please join us for luncheon.” She looked up at the Misses O’Neill, who both waved and then walked in their direction.

  “I would like that,” Eloise said. “Is Wethington joining us as well?”

  “Yes, I assume so. I didn’t ask him specifically, but he generally does.” Amy paused for a moment, regarding Eloise’s smug smile, and then said, “Why do you ask?”

  “Oh, no particular reason. Just curious.”

  Before Amy could question her friend further, the two O’Neill sisters stopped in front of them. “Good morning, Lady Amy, Miss Spencer.”

  William and Aunt Margaret were involved in a conversation with Mr. and Mrs. Hewitt, so all the Misses O’Neill’s nosy questions would be directed to Amy and Eloise this morning.

  “Good morning, ladies. It’s a lovely day, is it not?” Maybe Amy could keep the conversation light and ward off the usual inquisition to which the women were known to subject people.

  Miss Gertrude and Miss Penelope O’Neill were sisters who for some bizarre reason pretended to be twins, even though they looked nothing alike and were separated by almost a foot in height. Miss Penelope was short, round, and dark haired, whereas Miss Gertrude was tall and painfully thin, with curly red hair and freckles. Amy found it hard to believe they were even sisters. Their usual flowered dresses matched each other’s, as did their navy-blue-and-white-striped straw hats.

  The ladies made it their responsibility to be sure everyone was aware of their deep devotion to the church, although their love of gossip canceled out some of the good they did.

  “Yes, it is lovely out today,” Miss Gertrude said. “Lady Amy, sister and I were considering joining the lovely book club that you are a member of.”

  Eloise almost choked trying to keep her laughter in.

  “Is that right?” Amy said, her eyebrows climbing up her forehead. “You do know we read murder mysteries, do you not?”

  Miss Penelope giggled. Actually giggled. “Yes, we know that. We think it might be quite titillating to read about such things.” She looked over at Miss Gertrude. “Don’t you agree, sister?”

  Miss Gertrude nodded so enthusiastically that her hat became loose and slid to the bridge of her nose.

  Eloise was now red-faced, and Amy feared the poor girl would choke to death if the conversation did not end soon.

  “Well, we would certainly be happy to have you join us,” Amy said, as Eloise mumbled something and walked away.

  Thank you, Eloise. ’Tis so nice to have the support of friends.

  “We meet on Thursday evenings at the Atkinson and Tucker bookstore around eight o’clock. Do you know where that is?”

  “Oh, yes. We know where you meet.” Miss Penelope linked her arm into her sister’s. “I look forward to seeing you Thursday next.” She nodded, and the two of them walked off, their heads together, whispering furiously.

  Well, that was certainly surreal.

  “Are you ready to leave, Amy?” Aunt Margaret had broken away from the group she and William had been speaking with.

  “Yes. I just need to find Eloise. She’s wandered off somewhere.”

  Once they had all gathered, Aunt Margaret, Amy, William, and Eloise climbed into the Wethington carriage, which, fortunately, was a good-sized vehicle.

  “Whatever would make Miss Gertrude and Miss Penelope believe they would enjoy reading about murders?” Eloise asked.

  “What?” Aunt Margaret asked.

  Amy grinned. “It seems the Misses O’Neill have been hiding a penchant for murder mysteries. They said they wanted to join our mystery book club.”

  Aunt Margaret laughed. “That will be quite an interesting meeting to see. If I didn’t abhor reading about
grisly, gory, bloody murders, I would go just to see how it all goes.”

  Amy huffed. “We don’t always read about grisly murders. It’s a mystery book club, which means we read all sorts of mysteries. The Sherlock Homes stories are not gruesome at all. Well, not usually, anyway.”

  “But you read Edgar Allan Poe, don’t you?”

  Amy shifted on her seat. “Yes. On occasion.”

  Eloise decided to add to Aunt Margaret’s condemnation. “And we’ve read a couple of your books too, Amy. They can be quite terrifying.”

  “Thank you so much for that, Eloise.” Amy glared at her.

  Eloise laughed. “Oh, give off. You know I love your books.”

  The ride from the church to Amy’s home didn’t take very long. There was continued speculation on why the two ladies from the church wanted to join a mystery book club, but no one seemed to come up with a logical reason.

  They all climbed from the carriage and made their way up the steps and into the house. It took a bit of time for them all to remove their outer garments, hand them off to Stevens, and then proceed upstairs to the dining room.

  “Oh, I smell lamb,” Aunt Margaret set as she sniffed the air. “My favorite.”

  They each took their regular seats, and Amy shook out her napkin and placed it on her lap. “I have decided to become a vegetarian.”

  Three pairs of eyes looked in her direction. “What?” Aunt Margaret said, her hand poised over her glass of wine.

  “I have decided that it is more ethical for the animals and better for my health to refrain from eating meat.”

  “No meat?” William asked. “How very odd.”

  “What will you eat?” Eloise asked as she passed the platter of lamb to Amy, who shook her head and handed it to William.

  “Vegetables. Hence the word vegetarian.” Amy piled potatoes and peas on her plate. She also selected a piece of warm bread and buttered it.

  William shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, and I’m sure it’s not healthy.”

  “Not so,” she said, placing a forkful of lovely buttered potatoes in her mouth. “Did you know we have a Vegetarian Society right here in England? It was established in 1847, and by 1863 it had eight hundred and eighty-nine members.”

  “A lot of eights,” William murmured.

  “Have you joined?” Eloise looked at her lamb, shrugged, and popped a piece into her mouth.

  “Yes. I have. I haven’t yet attended any meetings, however. In fact, I’m not sure they hold meetings, but I sent in my application form and fee two weeks ago.”

  “Amy, I must say, you never cease to amuse me,” Aunt Margaret said, biting into a piece of lamb and making a rapturous sound. She chewed and swallowed and looked over at her niece. “I wonder what you will entertain us with next?”

  CHAPTER 3

  William tried his best to set aside every Thursday evening for the Mystery Book Club of Bath meetings. It was one of his favorite things to do and he looked forward to it each week.

  As he dressed for the meeting, tying his cravat into an acceptable knot, he thought about his life, which was quite pleasant and satisfying. With the book club, seeing friends at his gentleman’s club, attending church, enjoying a few dances at the assembly every Saturday, and putting in enough hours each week with his holdings and investments to keep his finances solid, he’d always been a contented man. Until recently.

  Despite his mother’s pushing him toward the altar, he’d found himself thinking more and more that a wife to come home to each evening and to raise children with might not be a bad idea. A smart, funny, agreeable woman with whom to share his life. He smiled as Amy came to mind.

  Whistling an unnamed tune, he grabbed an umbrella from the stand next to the door and hurried down the steps to his waiting carriage. The night was a typical English evening, with mist and a slight drizzle, and the chilly January air supported his decision to wear his heavy coat.

  He stepped into the back room at Atkinson & Tucker for the meeting and immediately spotted the one person who had occupied his mind a short time ago. She could easily rearrange his perfect life.

  Then perhaps it wasn’t so perfect and could use some rearranging.

  Amy stood across the room, waving her arms at something she was saying to the group around her.

  “Good evening. It looks like you are in a deep discussion. The Sign of the Four, I assume?” William joined the small group and took his position next to Amy.

  “We were commenting on Holmes disguising himself as a sailor and fooling even Watson,” Amy said. “We were considering whether it was really possible for him to disguise himself so thoroughly that even his best friend and roommate wouldn’t know him.”

  “I contend it is impossible for someone so close to the individual not to recognize the man, no matter how well disguised,” Lord Temple said.

  Amy opened her mouth to speak, then glanced over William’s shoulder, and her eyes widened. He turned to see Miss Gertrude and Miss Penelope O’Neill hesitantly enter the room. He looked back at Amy. “They did come after all.”

  She continued to watch them. “I still don’t understand why they want to join a mystery book club.”

  He frowned. “They do know we read mysteries? And some of them”—he cleared his throat—“especially those by E. D. Burton, are quite, shall we say, intense?”

  She elbowed him in his ribs.

  “Hello, Lady Amy. Oh, and Lord Wethington.” Miss Gertrude hurried to their little group with her sister right behind her.

  “Good evening, ladies,” William said with a slight bow. “I am pleased you have decided to join us.”

  “Yes,” Miss Penelope gushed, looking around the room. “Sister and I are so excited to join the group.” She leaned in close to William and said softly, “Not many people know that we love to read murder stories.”

  Nothing could have surprised him more. These two older ladies, stalwarts of the church, enjoyed murder mystery books? He shook his head, thinking that one never knew what surprises awaited one when dealing with members of the human race.

  Before they could continue their conversation, Mr. Colbert, who acted as moderator for the group, suggested that they begin to take their seats.

  While they waited for all the members to settle in, William flipped through the pages of Keene’s Bath Journal, the local newspaper for Bath. Amy scanned the pages of The Sign of the Four.

  “Listen to this.” William turned to her and glanced back at the newspaper. “An unidentified man’s body was found floating in the River Avon early yesterday morning. Attempts are being made to identify the man so his family may be notified.”

  Amy shuddered. “That’s terrible. I wonder who the poor unfortunate man is.”

  The last few members began to filter in, and William closed his newspaper and tucked it into his satchel. Amy closed her book and gave her attention to Mr. Colbert.

  “It is time to begin our meeting.” Mr. Colbert stood at the front of the room. He smiled at the members; then his eyes shifted to the doorway, and he frowned. Amy turned, and an unfamiliar man stood there, looking around the room.

  “May I help you, sir?” Mr. Colbert asked.

  “I’m looking for a Lord Wethington.”

  William stood and waved the man over. The man held out a folded paper to William. “This is for you, my lord.”

  William thanked him and returned to his seat.

  “What is that?” Amy pointed at the paper.

  He shrugged and opened it, his eyes scanning the missive. After a few moments, he inhaled deeply and looked over at her, his face pale. “The police have identified the man found floating in the river.”

  “And they notified you?”

  “Yes. He is Mr. James Harding. My man of business.”

  “How terrible!”

  William flicked the paper with his finger. “And strange, too, since we had a meeting set up for Saturday last that he canceled since he claimed he wasn’t feeli
ng well.”

  “Claimed? Did you not believe him?”

  “I’m not sure. I had reason to believe recently that there was something very odd going on with my finances.” He tucked the note into his pocket. “They want me to come to the morgue and confirm their findings.”

  Before Amy could comment on that statement, Eloise Spencer came racing through the door, waving her arm. “I’m here!”

  Amy rolled her eyes at William. Mr. Davidson glowered at the young woman.

  Davidson had been a member of the club since it was formed a few years before. He was not one of William’s favorite people, as the man’s regard for women was not at all what William thought acceptable. At one meeting when they were discussing A Study in Scarlet, he’d suggested that the idea of working with a woman was ludicrous because the only thing women were good for was wiping children’s noses and gossiping.

  After all the women in the room reacted with shock and sputtering protests, William had taken him to task and was later applauded for his efforts by Amy, a staunch women’s rights advocate.

  “Must you always rush into the room as if your heels were on fire?” Davidson grumbled.

  “How do you know they are not?” Eloise said smugly, as she took the chair on the other side of Amy.

  Much to William’s delight, Davidson looked at Eloise’s feet, bringing a few titters from the group.

  Mr. Colbert cleared this throat. “Before we begin our discussion this evening, I would like to introduce to the group two new members, Miss Gertrude O’Neill and her lovely sister, Miss Penelope O’Neill.”

  The two ladies tittered and giggled as they were greeted with warm welcomes. William still could not understand their desire to join the club. Although he thought most women were too delicate in nature to enjoy murders, Amy had certainly disabused him of the idea that all of them were when she revealed herself to him as a murder mystery author.

  Mr. Colbert picked up a copy of The Sign of the Four. “I shall begin our discussion by throwing out a question. Do any of you think Mr. Doyle is making a mistake by showing Sherlock Holmes’s bad habit of injecting himself with cocaine as he does in the very beginning of The Sign of the Four?”