As I hurried back to my car, a text came through from Tilly Stratton, the librarian in Chesterton. "I've found something I think you'll be interested in. Tilly."
I texted right back. "I just happen to be in Chesterton. Can I stop by right now?"
"Absolutely. See you soon."
I climbed in and headed straight to the library. Debra's pumpkins would have to wait. I'd been slowly peeling away the layers of a century old murder mystery and I didn't want to lose the opportunity to find more details. Hawksworth Manor, the dilapidated, yet stately, mansion looming over my neighborhood from Maple Hill had been the site of a grisly family murder. In 1906, when the tragedy had taken place, the local police had quickly written it off as a murder-suicide. They'd concluded that Bertram Hawksworth, a wealthy businessman, had grown despondent, possibly over the failure of his bid to build a large shipyard in Port Danby, and, in his anguish, had shot his wife and three children before turning the gun on himself. But pictures from the murder scene didn't make sense. Bertram was holding the murder weapon in his right hand, but I'd found pictures of him proving that Bertram had been left-handed. The officer at the time had discovered the same inconsistency but was quickly transferred, not only off the case, but out of the Port Danby precinct. I found it all too suspicious and had taken it upon myself to find out what really happened. Clues were sparse and mostly disconnected so far, but I was determined to press on. Since Chesterton Library housed a plethora of local newspapers and records from the turn of the last century, it had become my go-to place for research. Tilly Stratton, the industrious and helpful head librarian, knew I was interested in everything Hawksworth and tended to keep an eye out for things that might be significant in solving the case.
The Chesterton Library was a charming blend of rustic and quaint with its barn red exterior, white trim and dark blue door. The inside was just as inviting. Tilly Stratton took care to keep the bookshelves organized and flush with every book a reader could want. A tall shelf at the front of the main reading room boasted, with a bright orange sign, that it held all the latest bestsellers.
Tilly was just coming around from the stacks with two school girls as I entered the room. She waved at me to follow her to the circulation desk. Tilly had changed up her usual bowl haircut by clipping a few strands back with a plastic bow. Her smiled revealed her large front teeth as she greeted me. "I haven't seen you in so long, I thought maybe you were no longer interested in the Hawksworth murders."
"I'm still interested. It's just that life keeps getting in the way. In fact, I don't have much time today either. I'm off to buy a bunch of pumpkins for a high school reunion."
"Wonderful, you're going to your reunion," she said with a cheery whisper.
"No, I'm just helping with the floral arrangements. And squash arrangements too, apparently."
Tilly adjusted her glasses and searched around on the bottom shelf of the circulation desk. "Well, you know how I ask that people leave the newspapers out on the research table so I can put them back in proper order?" she asked as she continued her search.
"Yes."
"Ah ha." She pulled a newspaper out. It was yellowed and crisp from time but in nearly perfect condition. "Some high school students were writing a paper on the history of Port Danby." She shook her head. "Those silly girls must have pulled out every paper on the shelf. They were doing so much giggling, I doubt they got any work done. Anyhow, I was putting the papers back and I found this one. It's one of the first editions of the Chesterton Gazette." She turned the paper toward me. It was dated May, 1890. She pointed to the headline at the bottom of the front page. "Bertram Hawksworth takes a bride." See Society Section page four was written in small print beneath the announcement.
"You found the wedding announcement," I said too loudly and pressed fingers to my lips to shush myself.
Tilly nodded enthusiastically enough to make her glasses slip down her nose. She pushed them up and leaned forward. "There's some commentary from the society reporter that I thought you might find interesting."
A woman approached the desk looking for Tilly's assistance.
I carried the paper to a nearby table and sat down. The paper felt brittle in my fingers as I carefully opened it to page four. Right at the top was a fuzzy gray and white picture of the happy couple on their wedding day. Only happy wasn't exactly the right adjective for their facial expressions. I'd only seen Jill Bertram in the grim photo taken at the crime scene. It seemed she'd been a pretty woman with large eyes and a tiny bow shaped mouth. It was pursed rather tightly for the picture. Her late Victorian gown had large puffy shoulders and layers of lace. A tiny crown on her head held a long, gauzy veil that trailed down behind her shoulders. Bertram Hawksworth stood stiffly next to her, and from the expression on his face, it seemed he would rather have been anywhere but standing for a wedding photo. According to the caption, the couple got married in Mayfield Chapel and were postponing the honeymoon due to Bertram's business conflicts. Farther down on the page was a snippet written by a woman named Nellie Singleton. She started the short article by claiming to be the town's 'expert on high society'. It seemed to be a gossip column of sorts, which made me smile. It seemed even in the stodgy Victorian era, people liked a good dose of scandal and rumor. Of course, without television or radio, most forms of entertainment fell on the written word, so it made sense. Back then, wealthy elites were like our modern day celebrities.
Nellie Singleton seemed confident about her credentials, so I read on.
"The rumors have been confirmed. Bertram Hawksworth, Port Danby's most eligible bachelor has taken a bride. The lovely Jill Elizabeth Stoddard will soon be society's new darling. But my dears, don't blame yourself too much for not being the chosen Hawksworth bride. The rest of us never had a chance. This reporter has it on good authority that the marriage had been arranged a decade earlier by the two families. Jill brings to the union a hefty dowry from her father, George Stoddard of Stoddard Shipping and Exports. We hope the two will be very happy together and wish them many years of joy."
I smiled at the playful tone of the article. It was unexpected and surprising, especially knowing a woman had written it. Back then, women writers hid behind male pseudonyms just to be taken seriously. I'd only read one piece by Nellie Singleton, and I was an instant fan.
My phone buzzed, attracting the attention of a few people sitting nearby studying and working on laptops. I shrank down and flashed them all an apologetic grin. I reached into my coat pocket and glanced at the text. It was from Lola.
"I'm taking a lunch break. Where are you?"
I quickly replied. "I'm just leaving Chesterton Library. I'll treat you to lunch if you come with me on a pumpkin picking expedition on Dawson Grove."
"That autocorrect is hilarious. I assume you didn't mean to say pumpkin picking expedition."
"That's exactly what I meant. Are you in or not?"
"Sure. I haven't been pumpkin picking in years."
"Great. I'll meet you at Rhonda Martin's farm in twenty minutes." I stuck the phone in my pocket but pulled it back out when Lola returned a text.
"What about the free lunch?"
"Squash plucking first. Then lunch. See you in twenty." I gingerly folded the paper back up to its original form and carried it back to the desk. Tilly was busy looking something up on a computer for two girls. I waved and mouthed the words 'thank you', then headed out to the car.
It wasn't an earth shattering clue for the Hawksworth case, but it certainly pointed out that the Hawksworth marriage might not have been all kisses and roses. Just maybe the romantic letter from "Button" I'd found in Bertram Hawksworth's trunk was not written by Mrs. Hawksworth. Maybe Bertram Hawksworth had a mistress. It was all just speculation for now, but it definitely added a touch more scandal to the mystery.