twenty

I left Mother baking at home and cycled over to Greenwood Street at about nine. I had prenatal visits scheduled but not until later this morning, and I wanted to find the neighbor who had reported seeing Hilarius. Had this neighbor actually seen him beat Rowena to death? I wasn’t sure I could trust Kevin right now to follow up on every detail about Hilarius. I thought perhaps the strain of his wife and son being sick—as well as pressure from his boss—was temporarily affecting his usually sound judgment.

I coasted down Main Street into Patten Hollow, passing the pond on my right. The wind chilled me and I was glad I’d worn the thick woolen scarf Harriet had knitted for me. After I turned right on Greenwood, I dismounted and wheeled the cycle up the hill, one of many slopes in Amesbury. The road was steep and its paving planks slick with dew this morning.

My friend Catherine lived in this neighborhood, but I hadn’t been to her home in four years and couldn’t quite remember which house it was, or if it was even in this block of Greenwood. That hadn’t even occurred to me the morning I found Rowena’s body, likely because of the early hour, the shock, and my lack of sleep.

The Felch home was in the middle of the block. Where to start? I leaned my bike against a tree. The modest cottage across the street might be the best bet, but when I used the knocker, no one came to the door. At the larger house to its right, a young maid answered the door.

“Good morning. I’m helping the police with an investigation.” Which was really only a slight deviation from the truth.

At the word police her mouth formed the letter O.

“I was wondering if you or anyone in the household might have seen a crime committed across the street last Saturday night.” Dispensing for the moment with Quaker terminology for the days of the week, I pointed to the Felch house.

“No, I didn’t see nothing.” She wrung her hands in her apron. “I won’t have to talk to no coppers, will I?”

“I’m sure thee won’t.” I used my most soothing voice. “Is anyone else at home this morning?”

She shook her head.

I thanked her and moved on, although I caught a flicker of a curtain moving after she closed the door. She acted like she was afraid of something. But what? Maybe it was as simple as her being an uneducated girl brought in from the country to work for a family and not being familiar with officers of the law.

Smoke curled up from the chimney at the next house, and when I knocked I heard the thud of small running feet within. A round-faced woman opened the door. Catherine Toomey held a young girl on one hip while another lass the same size peeked out from behind her skirts.

“If it isn’t Rose Carroll!” Catherine exclaimed.

So she did live in this block. I knew her from the Mercantile where she sold dry goods, and I’d assisted my teacher with the birth of Catherine’s twin daughters, these very girls, a scant four years ago. Last summer I’d had spent even more time with the congenial Irishwoman when she’d been helping at her daughter-in-law’s labor and birth. “Catherine, I thought thee lived somewhere around here.”

“What brings you to the neighborhood?” Catherine set down the twin in her arms. “Come in for a cup of tea, will you?”

“I’d be happy to, thank thee. Hello, girls,” I added, bending over to ruffle each of their heads. When I straightened I noticed Catherine’s dress was turned, the measure of a frugal woman: picking apart the seams of a piece of faded clothing, turning them inside out, and restitching to reveal fresh fabric.

The little ones ran off giggling. Catherine gestured me to follow her to a warm roomy kitchen at the back of the house. “You children go play, now.” She pointed to a box of toys in the corner of the kitchen.

A minute later we sat at the table, steaming cups of tea in front of us. I picked up the small milk pitcher in the shape of a cow. “How is thy grandson, Charlie?” He’d been born in July, but unfortunately his mother had suffered from the clap and had passed it to her baby in the birth canal. The disease had damaged Charlie’s eyes, a common cause of blindness in children.

“He can’t seem to see a thing. But he’s happy and healthy, and we’ve all vowed to help him navigate his world as best we can.” She made a tsking sound. “But it won’t be easy.”

“Indeed, it won’t. I heard that Marie’s spirit was released to God a month after the birth.” The baby’s other grandmother had been gravely ill with cancer in July.

“Yes, may God bless her sainted soul.” Catherine crossed herself. “Now, Rose, tell me why you’re here today. You don’t seem the type to pay purely social calls.”

“It’s true.” I gave a little laugh. “Did thee happen to hear about the murder of thy neighbor, Rowena Felch?”

“Been hearing nothing since. It was quite the shock, it was.”

“Mama, what’s murder?” one of the girls piped up with a lisp.

I grimaced. Little pitchers definitely had big ears.

“I’ll tell you later, my wee sweet.”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.” I lowered my voice. “I’ve heard from the police a neighbor reported seeing a man near the Felch house on Seventh Day night.” I knew Catherine was familiar with my ways of speaking so I didn’t have resort to calling a day after a Roman god.

“It was I who told them, in fact. I felt a bit queer when he told me why he was after asking, but I said my piece.”

“What a relief I don’t have to knock on every door on the street. They’ve arrested this man but I don’t think he did it. Can thee tell me exactly what thee saw?”

“So you’re involved in solving another case, are you?” Her eyes were bright. She had also been involved, in a way, with the July murder of a mill girl.

“A bit.”

“As I told the young officer, I’d heard a noise and was curious about what it was.”

“Thee didn’t talk to the detective himself ? Kevin Donovan?”

“No. They had a pack of men out here asking questions, they did. So like I told the copper, I looked out the side window of the parlor and saw a skinny sort of gent standing looking at the Felch’s lilac bush. The moon was well full and bright that night, it was.”

“But thee didn’t see him”—I glanced at the children—“assault Rowena.” Assault was unlikely to be in their vocabularies yet, but they might know words like beat and kill.

“I didn’t see her at all and I told the officer as much.”

One of the girls, moving behind Catherine’s back, fetched a small square box off the work table next to the stove and returned to her sister.

“What time did thee hear the noise?” I asked before sipping the welcome warmth of my tea.

“Mummy!” one of the girls cried out.

“Now what can the matter be?” Catherine twisted in her chair. “Can’t two ladies have a nice cuppa and a spot of talk, then?”

The one who had yelled cowered with her hands over her head. “’Top it, Thithy,” she lisped.

“I’m just a-salting her, Mummy,” the other said in an innocent voice even as she plucked a pinch of grains out of the salt cellar and sprinkled it on her twin’s head.

“Oh, fer Mary, Jesus, and Joseph. You stop plaguing your sister and wasting my good spice, now, my girl. Go put the cellar back where it rightly belongs.”

It was my fault again, using the word assault, but I could barely keep a giggle inside.

Catherine turned back to me, her shoulders hunched with suppressed laughter. She covered her mouth and shook her head, the amusement in her eyes unmistakable.

“Now then,” she said, once she mastered her laugh. “What in blazes were we talking about?”

“Thee was about to tell me what time thee heard the conveyance in the street.”

“Yes, of course. Well, it was a little before ten. Mr. Toomey had just gone up to bed and I was turning off the lamps and such. So you’re not after thinking the skinny one did the dreadful deed, after all?”

“He’s down on his luck, but I’ve heard he’s a decent sort. So, no, I’m inclined to look elsewhere for the culprit. Did thee see anyone else, hear anything else?”

Catherine sipped her tea and gazed at the table as if she was thinking. She looked up. “I’d just turned away when I heard some kind of conveyance go by. Our street isn’t paved yet and the wheels thump something fierce on the planks.”

“Was it going away from the Felch home or toward it?”

“I’m not sure.”

“And did thee see a conveyance parked at the house when thee spied the man?” I asked.

“No, nary a one.”

I finished my tea. “I thank thee, Catherine. For the tea and for the information. One more question. Did thee tell Kevin Donovan about the conveyance?”

“No, I didn’t think to. And he didn’t ask. You girls be good now,” she directed her daughters. “Mama will be right back.”

As she showed me to the front door, we passed the parlor. “I was looking out that window there, do yeh see?” She pointed.

“May I?” I asked.

When she nodded, I peered out the window. There was the Felch’s home across the street and down one house. I could see the lilac, but a large rhododendron in front of Catherine’s window blocked the view of the rest of the house. I thanked her and made my way out. I stood at my bicycle for a moment, thinking. She’d heard a vehicle.
I doubted Hilarius had the means to own one. Perhaps he’d borrowed a conveyance. Of course, it could belong to any citizen of Amesbury simply driving home after a visit with relatives or a dinner out. Or maybe it belonged to the murderer.

I walked my cycle past the Felch house and spied a phaeton with its top up harnessed to a dappled horse. It looked like Mr. Felch was getting ready to go out, or someone could be paying a condolence call. Either way, I had an urge to speak with him. I approached the front door. Boards were nailed over where the broken glass had been. I rapped the knocker, remembering again how odd it was the door had been locked the morning I’d found Rowena.

He pulled open the door. “Yes?” he began. He took a closer look at me. “You’re Miss Carroll.”

“Yes. I was in the neighborhood and wondered …” Wondered what? I hadn’t thought this through.

“If you could pay your respects?”

He’d solved my problem for me. “Yes.”

“Certainly. Do come in.” He stepped back and waved his hand toward a parlor off the hall.

The room was positioned in the same place in the house as Catherine’s, but was twice the size. It was genteelly decorated with brocade-
upholstered chairs, a fine rug, delicate tables, and oil paintings in gilt frames on the walls. Heavy green draperies were pulled to the sides of the tall windows.

“Please sit.”

I took a seat on one of the smaller chairs, while he perched opposite in a big winged armchair. No one else was in the room, so it must have been his horse and carriage.

“I suppose I was short with you at the polls yesterday,” he began. “This has all been such a shock. But I’d wanted to speak to you at more length, and here you are.” He stroked his luxurious beard. His expression was much less grief-stricken than the day before.

“How is the funeral planning coming along?” I asked.

“It will be Friday. There are still many details to attend to.”

“Does thee have family who is helping? Or did Rowena?”

“I myself am without family, sadly. I was my parents’ only child and they are both deceased. It’s one reason I wanted to be father to a big family.” He pondered his long-fingered hands for a moment, and then gave his head a little shake, looking at me again. “Mrs. Felch’s parents spend the colder months in the Caribbean islands, but Mrs. Roune, her grandmother, is here in Amesbury. She and I have rather different views on the matter of the funeral, I’m afraid.”

Annie had said Mrs. Roune didn’t like Oscar much, and was helping Rowena financially so she could leave him. I’d say they might have very different views, indeed.

“I’m sure it will be worked out to thy satisfaction.”

“I hope so. She’s not an easy woman, Mrs. Roune.” He leaned his forearms on his knees and clasped his hands, fixing his gaze on me. “Will you please tell me every detail of when you found Rowena, Miss Carroll? I never expected, when I left for New York, I’d never see her again.”

Was he asking out of sadness or for another reason? If he’d hired Hilarius to kill Rowena, perhaps he was concerned whether the murder had proceeded according to plan or not. If he hadn’t, my heart went out to a grieving husband. In either case, I couldn’t give him the whole story. Kevin had taught me the importance of keeping crime scene details private, in case a killer revealed information he shouldn’t have known. I took a deep breath and let it out.

“I was cycling past this house early in the morning. I’m a midwife, and I was on my way home from a birth. I spied thy wife’s red shoe under the lilac. I’d seen her only the night before at the women’s suffrage meeting.”

His eyes filled. “She loved those shoes.” He extracted a handkerchief from a pocket and dabbed at his eyes. “Forgive me.”

“Please don’t apologize, Oscar. There is nothing to forgive. Thee is entitled to thy grief.” I felt a pang of chagrin, since my questions might intrude on that grief, but I went on. “After I found her, I hailed a passing man and asked him to fetch the police. Then I saw the glass in the door was broken.”

He frowned. “Indeed. The scoundrel had ransacked the dining room. But I couldn’t find a thing missing. The silver all seems to be in place.”

“Only the dining room?”

“Yes. Which is odd, because Rowena kept expensive jewelry in her room, and there are other valuables in the house.”

Odd, certainly. “I believe thee might be acquainted with my betrothed, David Dodge of Newburyport.”

“Yes, of course.” Oscar pursed his lips. “A fine physician. Young yet, but he’ll go far, mark my words.”

“He said thee was away at a medical convention recently.”

He narrowed his eyes. “He did, did he? I was, of course. But what business is it of yours where I was?”

“We only were curious about why thee wasn’t at home when thy wife was murdered.” I watched as he cringed at the word murdered.

He recovered and stared at me. “Who is we? You and Dodge?”

“No, Detective Donovan and me.”

His nostrils flared. “What, you work for the cops?”

“Not at all. But you understand I needed to summon the police after I found your wife’s body.”

“Yes, of course.” He gazed at the floor, then at me. “But now you’re speculating on my whereabouts not only with the detective but with your beau? Isn’t talking about a murder investigation a little unseemly, Miss Carroll? Not the type of thing ladies normally get themselves involved in, now, is it?”

No, it certainly wasn’t. But, then, I wasn’t exactly a society lady, either. “Had thee known Rowena would be going to the suffrage meeting that evening?”

“I did not.” His eyes glinted like new steel. He clapped his hands on his knees. “You must excuse me. I’m expected elsewhere.” He stood.

I followed suit. “Let me again express my condolences on the death of thy wife.”

He strode to the door and opened it. “That’s all very nice. But it won’t bring my wife back, will it?”