eighteen

Tired and with sore feet, but satisfied with having made a public statement about suffrage, the women started to drift away home when the polls closed at five o’clock. A half dozen of us gathered in a small knot to review the day. Georgia had returned from taking Elizabeth to her rooms earlier and reported she was resting comfortably. The sun vanished beyond the tall brick edifice of Saint Joseph’s Church around the corner as we talked, all of us looking a bit worse for the wear.

“We had a number of women interested in joining the Association,” Zula said. Hair which had escaped its pins curled around her forehead, which bore a smudge of ink from one of the placards.

“New blood,” Frannie replied with a grin, her brown eyes still bright.

“Except for the shooting and the rude young men, I thought most of the men were remarkably well behaved,” I said.

“We got our share of glares and fists, but they kept it across the street,” Bertie added.

“But we also had men who approved of our action, like Zeb this morning.” I took off my glasses and rubbed my eyes.

“This was wonderful, but shall we be off ?” Mother asked. “I’m eager to see my grandchildren.” She looked wearier than the rest of us. She was older by a decade than Frannie, who was nearing fifty.

“May I entice you all to my flat for a bite of Election Cake and a cup of tea, or something stronger?” Zula asked. “My cook insisted on preparing the sweet and it’s far too large for me to consume alone. She said her mother used to be hired by the government to make an enormous cake for all the voters, and she simply can’t abandon the custom.”

“And now others use the cake as a bribe for votes,” Frannie said. “Although I noticed more than one of the gentlemen accepted a slice this morning from the Cleveland camp and then chose a Harrison ballot.”

“Zula, doesn’t thee want to visit thy sister and new nephew?” I asked. I’d told her about the birth after I returned to the polling place.

She batted away the suggestion. “They’re in good hands. I’ll go tomorrow.”

Bertie said, “I’m game for cake.”

“I think I’ll go back to the house, Rosie, if thee doesn’t mind.” My mother cocked her head at me. “I want to see the children and keep an eye on someone else, if thee understands me.”

I nodded. Of course she wanted to make sure Frederick didn’t head straight for the tavern as soon as she arrived home. “Does thee care if I go to Zula’s?” I still wanted to learn more about Zula, about her motivations.

“Of course not. I’ll see thee later on.” Mother had always encouraged my independence.

“Can thee find the way home?” I asked.

Mother laughed. “I was visiting Harriet in Amesbury before thee moved here, darling. Of course I know the way.” She said good-bye to the others and walked off.

“Cake and a drink sounds like fun,” Frannie said. “I told Mr. Eisenman not to expect me until late.”

“I need to decline,” Georgia said. “My nursling will be hungry.”

I’d delivered her most recent baby in the summer. I’d noticed she’d left the line several times today to go home and feed her daughter. She was fortunate enough to have a prosperous husband who provided a driver and carriage to transport her. Her husband had been the first to rebuild his carriage factory after the disastrous fire last spring, and he was a loving and forward-looking man who clearly supported his wife in her interest in the suffrage movement.

“Then we’re off.” Zula began gathering up the various placards and posters.

“I can take those home in the carriage,” Georgia offered.

We accepted with relief so we didn’t have to carry them.

Across the way, groups of men lingered outside the polling place. I hadn’t really followed previous elections, as I’d been too busy with my apprenticeship. How soon would they have the results for Amesbury? A couple of men staggered by, brandishing large Harrison-
Morton posters on wooden sticks and looking like they’d spent the afternoon enjoying liquid refreshment.

I spied Hilarius in a clutch of men holding Cleveland-Thurman signs. Then I spotted Kevin and Guy striding toward the group. Uh-oh. Hilarius saw them, too. He turned away from the group and hurried in the other direction, toward us women.

Kevin blew his whistle. “Halt, Hilarius Bauer,” he shouted.

Guy broke into a run, but he didn’t need to. Hilarius stopped. He was close enough I could see the sweat again on his forehead and his tense, fearful expression. Guy took his arm as Kevin arrived.

Kevin laid his hand on Hilarius’s shoulder, a move I’d learned was required by the police at the time of an arrest. “Hilarius Bauer, you are under arrest for the murder of Mrs. Rowena Felch.”

Oh, no. I prayed he was wrong, that Hilarius was not the killer.

Hilarius shook his head mutely. He glanced over at me. “I didn’t do it, Miss Carroll. I swear I didn’t do it.”

“A neighbor of the Felches has come forward placing you in front of their house that very evening,” Kevin said.

“But I didn’t kill the lady,” Hilarius protested. “I …” His voice trailed off and he clamped his mouth shut.

Guy clicked the cuffs onto his hands behind his back and marched him away. Kevin started to follow, but I hurried after him and tugged on his sleeve.

“Has thee any evidence?” I asked in a low voice. “Has thee found the murder weapon, or blood on Hilarius’s clothing?”

“No, but we will.” He lifted his chin.

I stared at him. “Kevin, thee has arrested the wrong man for a crime before.” I gazed over my spectacles. “Isn’t it too early to bring in Hilarius with only hearsay as proof ?”

He sighed. “Miss Rose, you have to let me do my job as I see fit—and my chief is seeing fit to demote me if I don’t solve the case and soon. Mr. Felch is a prominent doctor in town and he’s putting a lot of pressure on the boss. The chief as good as told me to arrest Bauer.”

I lifted a shoulder and let it drop. “I’m only concerned for thy reputation.” And Hilarius’s, too. The poor man. Unless he was a liar, in which case justice had been done.

We sat around a low table thirty minutes later in Zula’s apartment. We’d each taken a turn in the lavatory to freshen up. I’d enjoyed the running water from the shiny brass tap, the flushing toilet, and the look of the marble porcelain fixtures and gleaming marble floor. Zula’s family certainly had money.

Zula had driven her Bailey runabout home, saying she needed to alert her maid to prepare things. The rest of us walked, but it wasn’t far. I found it more refreshing to walk briskly, even on tired feet, than to stand in one place for hours on end. As we walked, I kept thinking of Hilarius. He’d been about to say something and then had stopped himself. Could Kevin get it out of him? Maybe, if he was more interested in the truth than in making an arrest because of pressure from his superior officer.

Now I gratefully accepted a cup of tea, even though all the others chose sherry. Zula used her left hand to cut slices of the large cake. I took a bite of the golden brown cake, the top of which was studded with raisins and currants. I savored the spices: cinnamon, allspice, and perhaps coriander, too. The taste was rich and the texture moist. The maid had turned on all the lights before we’d arrived and the room glowed. It must be nice to have sufficient funds to live in this kind of comfort, and with a maid and a cook, too, I thought idly. I didn’t aspire to such a life myself, though.

“Careful, Miss Carroll, since you don’t imbibe,” Zula said. “Cook puts a quart of brandy in the cake.” She smiled at me.

Bertie threw back her head and chortled.

I sniffed the cake. “I am going to assume the alcohol cooks off and the brandy merely adds to the richness.”

“And what if it doesn’t?” Bertie asked. “A touch of spirits will do you good. We won’t tell those Quaker elders of yours.”

I didn’t want to spoil the evening by thinking about any elders, particularly not Quaker ones. “Well, I’m too hungry not to eat it.” I smiled back. “And, Zula, please call me Rose. I don’t support the use of titles.”

“Very well, Rose.” Zula seemed relaxed, perhaps from fatigue. Or maybe it was from seeing Rowena’s possible killer behind bars.

Bertie tasted her own piece. “Mmm, delicious. Must be nice to have a cook. Does she make delicacies like this every day?”

“No, she and the maid both go home from Saturday afternoon to Monday morning. Everyone needs time away from work, and I dine with my parents on the Sabbath.”

Bertie had been up to something with her question. Now we knew Zula was alone Saturday night.

“Was thee glad to see the detective make an arrest in Rowena’s murder?” I asked her.

“Right in front of our eyes, too,” Bertie said.

Zula sat up straight, her face sobering. “Of course I’m glad. I don’t believe a word that man said about not killing Rowena. Of course he did. Now we can all walk peacefully again.”

I wondered about that. Maybe we could, or maybe not.

“Who do you think won the election?” Frannie asked the group. “I would have voted for Mr. Harrison if I’d been able to.”

“Cleveland would have gotten my vote,” I said.

“But the polls won’t close in the western states until a few hours from now,” Bertie chimed in. “California and Oregon are at the other end of the continent. We’ll be lucky to hear the winner in tomorrow’s papers.”

“I suppose,” I said. The railroads had instituted four time zones in the nation a few years ago, which had greatly improved the on-time running of the trains. I’d read every little town all the way to the west had previously kept a different clock, using high noon as their standard. But high noon was not the same here as it was in Ohio, which differed from the time in Texas, which was yet again not the same as California’s.

“I’ll bet the telegraph wires are humming tonight.” Frannie looked excited at the prospect.

We ate and sipped and chatted for some minutes. I set down my cup and saucer. “Zula, how did thee become interested in women’s suffrage?”

She considered for a moment. “I was always a tomboy. I hated turning thirteen and having to let down my skirts and put up my hair. And it just didn’t seem fair men could vote and we couldn’t. I met Rowena at my first Association meeting …” Her voice trailed off as her eyes turned misty.

“Poor Rowena,” Frannie said. “She was an inspiration to every one of us.”

“Is there any idea about making a memorial to her?” I asked. I’d forgotten to raise the issue during the demonstration earlier. “I think the law firm she worked for would like to contribute.”

Zula wrinkled her nose. “How would you know such a thing?”

I thought fast. “I had occasion to stop in there yesterday on another matter, and the woman at the front desk spoke of Rowena.”

Zula looked like she didn’t quite believe me, but she shook it off. “We’re talking about how to remember her, yes.”

“Tell me more about Rowena,” I said. “I didn’t know her at all, having met her only once before the meeting.” I looked from Zula to Frannie and back.

“She was a brilliant lawyer,” Zula said. “She graduated from Union College of Law in Chicago, and she had aspirations to be the Attorney General of the Commonwealth.”

“Could she hold the attorney general’s office?” Bertie asked, scrunching up her face. “If they don’t even let us vote, would they allow a woman into such a position of power?”

“She was determined to make it so,” Zula said with pride in her voice. “She was always citing the congressional legislation from nine years ago. It determined if a woman is licensed to practice law, she must be allowed into the highest court in the land.”

“The Supreme Court?” I asked.

“The Supreme Court.”

“And Rowena was a gifted leader of our movement,” Frannie added. “She knew how to lead without ordering us around, and she lit a spark in everyone with her vision and her commitment. She could have been the next Elizabeth Cady Stanton.”

“She was all of that and so much more.” Zula gazed at a likeness of Rowena in a frame on the end table where she sat. “She could make you laugh. And she was brilliant.” She coughed and blinked, appearing to cover up a rush of emotion.

“Didn’t she have any flaws?” Bertie raised one eyebrow. “You make her sound like a saint.”

Zula half glared at Bertie. “She didn’t suffer fools lightly, true.”

So maybe she had other enemies out there I wasn’t even aware of. “I’m still not sure the detective has the right man for her murder,” I said.

“Why did he arrest that fellow, anyway?” Frannie asked, cocking her head.

I sighed. “Hilairus Bauer has been in trouble with the law before, for petty thievery. But I know someone who vouches for his character.”

Bertie nudged me. “That someone happens to be Rose’s intended, David. Look at the pretty ring he gave her.”

I blushed but held out my hand to display the simple ring of engagement featuring a love knot done in gold. David had given it to me in the summer. Zula glanced at the ring without interest, but Frannie complimented me on it.

“Anyway, Kevin said a witness placed Hilarius at the scene of the crime,” I went on. “But I have an uneasy feeling about the statement. I just don’t think he was the villain, so to speak.” I gazed at Zula. “Is there anyone else who might have wanted to do away with Rowena?”

“How about Mr. Felch?” Zula curled her lip. “He was most certainly not happy about her deserting him, as he put it.”

“He was away Saturday night, though, in New York.” I pursed my lips. “Does thee know of an Elbridge Osgood?”

Zula’s thick dark eyebrows went up. “The one Rowena was promoted over. She talked about him.”

“Do you think he killed her, Rose?” Frannie leaned forward, her hands on her knees.

“I really don’t know. I’m just thinking about who might have thought they had cause to commit murder.”

“What about the anti-suffrage hothead with the gun today?” Bertie asked.

“Leroy Dunnsmore. Yes, he’s on the list. And the detective has him in jail. But if Kevin thought Leroy murdered Rowena, he wouldn’t have arrested Hilarius.” I sighed. My head spun with possibilities. And of course another possible suspect sat across from me, not that I was going to add her name to the discussion.

Zula regarded me. “You’re quite the detective, Rose. How does such an interest comport with being a midwife?”

I laughed lightly. “Midwifery is my profession. But it turns out I have another calling, to be an unofficial assistant to Kevin Donovan in cases where I have an interest.”

“Is this so? And he welcomes your advice?” Zula asked with narrowed eyes.

“It’s not advice. I just pass on information I learn.”

“Were you angry with Rowena because she wouldn’t move in with you?” Bertie asked Zula, a calm innocent expression on her face.

I shot Bertie a quick glance. Another not-so-innocent question, but not a very kind one to someone grieving as Zula must be.

Zula blinked. She picked up her glass and took a sip. “I was frustrated in love, do you hear me? I’ll be honest with you. I wanted her. But she didn’t want me back, not in the same way.” She stared at Bertie. “And in case you’re wondering? No, I didn’t kill her.”