Pointing myself back to Baker’s Lane, my feet were heavy thinking about Abial Latting and what Brigid said about him. His behavior in the store had not been at all peaceable. I wanted to learn more about the man on the off chance he had some connection to Frannie’s death. My thoughts harked back to a tragic case in Amesbury over a year ago, in which Hannah Breed, a Quaker mill girl, had been murdered by an unscrupulous person. She had also been pregnant and unmarried. Between Kevin and me, we’d caught the villain, restored the reputation of the first person accused, and uncovered quite a tangle of lies. Would it also be the same with Frannie’s murder?
A sign on a brick building reading H. Gifford & Co, Attorneys at Law caught my eye. Huldah’s office. I slowed. Should I see if the detective was in and relate to him what Zerviah had said about Frannie’s condition? If I were home I would certainly tell Kevin. And Edwin had asked for my assistance. In I went, and told the tired-looking clerk I was seeking the temporary office of Detective Edwin Merritt. He waved me to a door on his left.
Inside, a fresh-faced young officer sat behind a desk with nothing on its surface. Another door was at his back.
“Good morning. My name is Rose Dodge. I would like to speak to Detective Edwin Merritt, if thee pleases.”
He looked me up and down from my bonnet to my shoes and back. “What’s your business with him, miss?” His tone was one of bantering rather than respect.
“It’s of a confidential nature regarding the recent death of Frannie Isley.” I had no plans to correct him on my marital status and wasn’t about to start introducing myself as Mrs. David Dodge. I had a perfectly good name that needed no title.
“Oh, confidential, is it?” He folded his arms and cocked his head as if not believing me. “What’s a Quaker lady like you doing consorting with a sergeant?” He snickered.
I pulled myself up tall and straight, erasing my friendly smile. “Young man, what I have to relate to Edwin Merritt is confidential, and the detective specifically requested my assistance in the case. I would appreciate thee fetching him with all due haste. He will be well displeased at thy insolence.”
The boy’s eyes widened and his skin paled under his freckles. “Yes, miss. Right away, miss.” He jumped to his feet and disappeared through the door. A moment later he reappeared, sheepishly following Edwin.
“You wanted to see me, Mrs. Dodge?” the detective asked.
The fresh-faced one, a scant twenty if that, turned even whiter at hearing I was married, which, in society’s eyes, brought a certain degree of respectability.
“I am in possession of a few bits of information in which thee might be interested, Edwin,” I said.
My rude greeter gaped at my use of the officer’s Christian name.
“Certainly. Please come back to my office.” To the boy, he added, “As you were, Larkin.”
Larkin’s relief was tentative at best. He had no idea what I would or would not relate to Edwin about his behavior toward me. Indeed, I planned to speak to the detective of our interchange. A young patrolman should not be treating women with disrespect—not me, not any woman. He was young enough to learn differently, given proper guidance.
A few moments later I sat across from Edwin. The desk occupying the space between us could have been Kevin’s, with its stacks of papers and maps and scraps of notes everywhere. A tall bookcase held only two reference volumes for officers of the peace next to a stern-faced photograph of Edwin and his wife.
He must have seen me studying the photograph because he gestured at it. “I kind of hoped to have a passel of children by now, but we’re finally getting our family going, so perhaps one day I shall.” He flipped open his palms as if he didn’t really care. “The medical examiner is due to arrive on the noon train, and I have a number of other pressing issues with which I must deal. Please tell me what you’ve learned.”
“First, the Wampanoag Indian midwife, Zerviah Baxter, is certain Frannie Isley was carrying a child.” I adjusted my glasses.
Edwin stilled the pencil he’d been fiddling with. “Do tell.”
“Zerviah had not performed a physical examination. But there are signs no experienced midwife can miss. Please instruct whomever will be performing the autopsy to confirm Frannie’s condition and to assess how old the fetus was when she was killed.”
He scribbled furiously on a piece of paper. He glanced up. “How do you know you can trust the word of an Indian?”
I mentally rolled my eyes. I’d done my fair share of schooling Kevin over the last few years on judgmental attitudes. Apparently I’d have to do it here, too. “Edwin, Zerviah is a human and a woman with a profession, like mine, of caring for pregnant women. She knows of what she speaks. Why would I not trust her simply because she comes from a different geographical region—right here, in fact—than your ancestors or mine?”
“But some Indians act savagely.”
“So do some Europeans, where most Americans originated.” I shut my mouth and folded my hands. Rome wasn’t created in a day, as they said, and neither was God’s green earth. I would not change his beliefs in the span of a few minutes.
“Very well,” he consented. “I will ask him to ascertain the victim’s condition.”
“If she was, in fact, with child, whoever the father was could have been angry about it. Or someone else displeased with Frannie, an unwed sixteen-year-old, bearing what society terms a bastard child.”
“This could be the motive for the homicide.” He nodded sagely.
“An excellent thought.” I smiled to myself, since it had been mine.
“What else do you have?”
“When I spoke with Hazel Bowman, she mentioned a Brigid McChesney. I’ve had occasion to speak with the Irish girl twice in the last twenty-four hours. She was quite fond of Frannie. She told me Hazel is addicted to laudanum and that Hazel was quite displeased when Frannie began spending much of her time with the Baxter lad instead of with her.”
“She, Miss Bowman, was displeased?”
“Yes. Brigid also mentioned that Hazel likes to be in control and always tells her friends what to do. I thought if Hazel had taken too much of the potent drug, perhaps she went mad and found a way to kill her friend.”
Edwin blinked his mismatched eyes, as if thinking. “The idea is a bit fanciful, but I grant you it’s possible, although I believe it makes the person who consumes the drug passive rather than crazed.” He scribbled some more. Folding his hands on the desk, he shot his gaze to the wall clock, which read five before noon.
“I believe I’ve told thee all I’ve learned about the case. I thank thee for listening.” I stood.
He rose, too.
“I need to say one additional thing.” I cleared my throat. “Please instruct thy employees to treat everyone who enters here with respect. Young Larkin, as thee addressed him, was cavalier and rude to me. He’s an officer of the peace, and his tender years make him still teachable. I do not intend he be punished, but thee could take this opportunity to direct him on appropriate behavior. I might have mentioned to him that you would be most unhappy to hear of the ungentlemanly and unprofessional way he first dealt with me.”
Edwin smiled for the first time, displaying a set of astonishingly white and well-shaped teeth. “I shall proceed with his education forthwith.” The smile ebbed. “I need to speak with your aunt again, Mrs. Dodge, as soon as I show the medical examiner Miss Isley’s body. I can’t delay my interview with Miss Tilly any longer.”
“And why can’t thee?”
Edwin gazed at the desk for a moment, finally focusing on me again. “It seems a witness saw Miss Tilly and another person out on her boat very early in the morning of the day Miss Isley’s remains were found. The wharfmaster reported Miss Tilly returning her boat to its mooring alone.”
My core stilled and chilled. “Does thee mean . . .” I let my voice trail off. I couldn’t say the words. I covered my mouth with my hand, my brows pressing down on my eyes as I waited for him to utter them.
“That she might have killed her ward? Yes, Mrs. Dodge.”
“She would never hurt Frannie!”
“Nevertheless.” He took a deep breath and exhaled noisily. “We are considering it a possibility.”