As I left the store with my bundles, I supposed I should get my supper makings home and in a cool spot. Only a little ice remained in the ice box, but I’d forgotten to ask Dru when the ice man came. Still, the weather was cooling with the shorter days and turn of the seasons. Cheese and cured ham should keep fine without having to be overchilled.
What I wanted to do was dig deeper into where Abial had been the night and morning of Frannie’s demise. I couldn’t quite picture the wealthy businessman rowing Frannie to her death, though. It didn’t seem like something he would do.
I yawned. My lack of sleep from attending the birth last night was catching up to me. But instead of heading for my aunts’ house, my feet steered me toward Zerviah’s cottage. I felt drawn to her calm presence, so much like Orpah’s. I could ask about the newborn. Perhaps I could also chat with her a bit about these thoughts roiling in my brain like a storm-disturbed surf, thoughts which had been equally turbulent the last time I’d called on the Indian midwife.
As I approached the Latting mansion, the front door burst open. Abial rushed out, barely closing it behind him. He clapped his hat on his head and trotted down the steps, his long coat flying out behind him. He stopped short when he saw me.
“Good afternoon, Abial.” I smiled. “It looks like thee is in a hurry.”
He smiled, patting his robust midsection, but his puffy eyes narrowed for the flash of a second. “Ah, hello, Rose. Where I’m off to isn’t anything that can’t wait. I suppose thee is up to thy detecting?”
How did he know about that? “No. I’m actually paying a call on Zerviah. I attended a birth with her last night and want to ask how the infant fares. Thee must know the first few days can be perilous to one so freshly of this world.”
“Precisely so.” Now he sounded relieved. “I raised puppies when I was a lad. The same applied to them.”
Puppies? He must have a tender side to him I hadn’t yet glimpsed. “Did thee sell the dogs?”
“Oh, yes. Mother and I had quite a breeding business. Irish setters. We belonged to the American Kennel Club, of course.” His voice was wistful.
“Of course.”
“After she passed on, my father wouldn’t allow me to continue.” He cleared his throat.
While I had his attention, I decided a quick question couldn’t hurt. “It seems everyone in the village enjoys a spot of fishing. Does thee also take a boat out on the water from time to time?” I kept my tone mild.
He stared at me and waited a beat before speaking. “Me? Go fishing? Never. It’s a disgusting pastime and a worse occupation. Catching a live being with a hook through its mouth?” He shuddered. “I never go near fish or any seafood. Hateful substance. Give me a nice joint of beef or a crisp roast chicken any day, with potatoes aplenty on the side. Now I must be off. Good day.” He hurried down the road toward town.
My, my. Such a vehement reaction. Could it mean he protested too much, as Shakespeare had written of? I wondered. It would be hard to avoid eating seafood in a coastal town like this one. Shaking off my thoughts, I continued on to the Baxter cottage behind the big house. Hearing voices from the garden, I made my way around to the back.
Reuben sat on one of the stumps under the arbor with a bucket of water between his knees, scrubbing clams with a small stiff brush. His father stood with his back to me, fists on hips, glowering at his youngest.
“You have to,” Joseph demanded. “I order it.”
“And if I refuse?” Reuben spat out the words and glared back up at him, but closed his mouth when he saw me. He gestured with his head to Joseph, who whirled.
“Greetings, Reuben, Joseph,” I said. “I don’t mean to intrude, but I wanted to speak with Zerviah.”
Joseph struggled to compose his face. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Dodge. My wife is not here.”
“I see. I’m sorry to bother thee, then.”
“It’s no bother. I think she’ll return soon. Please sit. May I offer you a drink of water?” Joseph asked.
My fatigue and the exertion of my perambulations hit me suddenly. “I should love some water. I thank thee.” I lowered myself onto the other stump.
Joseph hurried into the house.
“Hello, Reuben.” I sniffed the air. Grapes were ripening somewhere nearby, their winey fragrance scenting the breeze.
“Mrs. Dodge.” Reuben kept his gaze on his work.
His father returned, handing me a tin cup full of cold water. “I’m afraid I’m late for an, ah, appointment, and must go, Mrs. Dodge.”
“It’s not a problem,” I said. “I thank thee for the water.”
“Reuben will gladly provide you with more refreshment, should you wish, while you wait.” He stared pointedly at his son, waiting for his response.
“Yes, Noeshow,” the boy mumbled, but he didn’t look up. “I will.”
“We will continue our conversation tonight, son. Good day, Mrs. Dodge.” Joseph settled a derby on his head and hurried out of sight, maybe off to join Abial, wherever he’d rushed to a few minutes ago.
After a moment, I asked, “Thee dug these clams today, Reuben?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m to deliver them to Falmouth, where they’ll be served in a restaurant. They don’t like to receive them dirty.”
“Has thee heard of our service for Frannie tomorrow afternoon at the Friends Meetinghouse? I hope thee will attend.”
He looked me in the face, his eyes full of sorrow. “Miss Tilly won’t want me there, I know it.”
“I expect thee is right,” I said. “But it’s a public service. Thee could sit in the back and bother no one. Frannie would want thee to share in remembering her.” Did he know Frannie had been pregnant? If the baby was his, he could be doubly mourning his loss.
“I’ll think about it.” Reuben returned his attention to his task.
“Did thee ever find thy cap?” It occurred to me in a flash he might have lost it when Frannie went missing. Was there any way to find out?
“My cap?” He squinted at me. “I remember. You were here talking with my mother when I asked her about it. Alas, no. It hasn’t turned up.”
I sipped my drink, which went down cool and wet. Had water ever tasted so good? Finally I spoke.
“Does thee know Hazel Bowman?”
He spat in the dirt on the far side of his bucket. “I’ve had the misfortune of meeting her, yes, ma’am.”
“I understand she and Frannie were friends.”
“Miss Bowman does not know how to be friends with anyone. She preys on girls and twists the words of anyone who tries to stop her. She’s as bad as . . .” His voice trailed off as his gaze strayed in the direction of the mansion at the front of the property.
As Abial Latting? I waited for the boy to go on.
Reuben resumed his scrubbing, this time with rather more force than was necessary. A bird of prey, perhaps a falcon, alit on a branch in the pine tree to our side. A snake writhed in its talons, but it was no match for its captor. I watched, both fascinated and horrified, as the attacker proceeded to hold the reptile with one foot while pecking at its skin with a sharp curved beak. The snake, its life extinguished, ceased its struggles. I cleared my throat.
“All I can say is, Hazel Bowman thinks she can twist life to suit herself,” Reuben continued. “She hated me for wooing Frannie. In Hazel’s mind, I robbed her of someone she thought she could control. But Frannie told me she had tired of Hazel’s vindictive ways.” He stood, stretching his back. “I do believe she was the one who claimed to the police I killed my Frannie. Me!” His voice broke during the exclamation and he turned away until he composed himself. He faced me again. “It’s a complete falsehood. An outright lie. For all I know, Hazel Bowman killed my girl herself, just so I couldn’t have her. I ask you, Mrs. Dodge. What kind of a friend is that?”