A sharp intake of breath resounded in the room at Tilly’s command, not least from Aunt Dru next to me. Tilly remained on her feet for an excruciating few moments. I didn’t expect the guilty party to step forth and declare his—or her—guilt, and no one did. When his sister began to sway, Daddy leapt up and helped her sit, then took her hand as I had taken Dru’s earlier. My heart broke to see Tilly sitting with bowed head, her shoulders shaking.
Reuben stood and stepped into the aisle. He twisted his cap in trembling hands for a moment. “Frannie was goodness and joy and light.” His voice trembled, too.
Tilly looked up. She set her mouth in an iron line with downturned ends.
“I’m sorry,” Reuben blurted, then sat with a thud.
Sorry? For what? Was this the confession Tilly wanted? What would Edwin do with Reuben?
Tilly raised her arm, pointing at him, and opened her mouth. Daddy hurriedly whispered something to her. She lowered her arm and closed her eyes.
The worship room became as quiet as a tomb, which made me realize the rain must have stopped or at least the wind. Was this the proverbial eye of the storm? If it was, we were in for even worse winds to come.
In the silence, Huldah stood. “Please greet thy neighbor.” He reached across to the nearest person to his left and shook his hand.
I was glad he’d discerned the meeting was over and equally glad Hazel hadn’t said anything shocking about Frannie. I shook Dru’s hand, then that of the woman on the end of the front pew.
Huldah approached Tilly and crooked his elbow. “May I walk with thee, Miss Tilly?”
“Thank thee, Huldah.” Her smile in return was wan, but she let him help her up. “I should like to leave this place.”
Into the hum of low conversation a great crack sounded. The building shook. Dru looked at me with wide eyes. Tilly clutched Huldah’s sleeve. A child shrieked. A man leaning on a crutch, one pant leg pinned up, cringed and sank his face into his hand. I expected he was a veteran of the War for the Union and a person who didn’t do well with sudden loud noises.
A young man dashed into the room near where Currie and Wesley now stood. “The big pine toppled. It’s blocking both doors!”
“The devil you say,” a male voice exclaimed from across the way.
“That one’s not a Quaker, I daresay,” Dru observed wryly.
I checked, thinking I’d recognized the voice. Indeed, it was Currie who had invoked the Prince of Darkness, as some referred to the concept known as Satan. A mild chaos ensued. Several men of the Meeting hurried into the front hall, while others in attendance milled about. Some of the women—not Friends, by the look of their ruffles and brightly colored garments—looked worried.
“Tilly, why doesn’t thee sit again?” Daddy said gently.
She obliged but muttered, “All I want to do is make myself scarce, and God blocks the doors? I cannot fathom it.”
“He works in mysterious ways, and thee knows it as well as I do.” My father sat next to her.
I stood. I needed to speak with Edwin, and soon. Sadie circulated around both rooms, speaking softly to certain people. I was sure she was inviting Friends and selected others to join the family in the repast she’d prepared. Meanwhile, Wesley seemed to be making his way closer to Tilly. Would she see him first? Was he thinking of speaking to her?
Brigid rose and strode to the door. I followed her. Edwin tried to stop her.
“Let me by.” She set fists on hips. “I’m after being as good as any man with a saw and better than many.”
I smiled to myself. The broad-shouldered young woman was young and strong, able with heavy fishing lines and boats. Why shouldn’t she help clear the obstacle? Edwin let her go.
Joseph followed her out. “We can get the necessary tools from my shed.”
“I can slide under the tree and run for the tools if you’re telling me where you’re keeping them,” Brigid offered.
If there was any group under the sun who would accept an offer of manual labor from a girl of sixteen, it was Friends. Joseph wasn’t a member of our faith, but he worked for a Quaker. For me right now, my own work had to take center stage.
I beckoned Edwin to a relatively quiet corner in the hallway. “Thee saw what I saw?” I spoke as softly as I could.
“I did, Mrs. Dodge. Someone is a fool to demonstrate such evidence in front of a hundred people.”
“He has to be the one who felt threatened by me and locked me in the shed.”
Edwin’s smile was faint but satisfied. “I would agree.”
Effie hurried up, panting, bent over but golden eyes bright. “Mrs. Dodge. That was him.”
Edwin’s expression grew more keen. “Mrs. Bugos, isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir. And you’d be the detective.”
“I am.”
Effie didn’t seem to know Edwin. She must have spoken to Larkin earlier.
“Effie, of whom does thee speak?” I asked.
“That rich old cock who spoke in the service, mind you, about Detective Merritt locking up the villain. My hearing is as good as it was the day I turned twenty, and I have a facility with recognizing voices. I tell you as sure as my middle name is Malvina, that man’s is the voice of the person who went out on the boat with Frannie before dawn last Saturday.”
My eyes widened. This was the break we needed.
Edwin crouched a little to meet her gaze. “And?”
“He’s the selfsame one, him with his coat looking for all the world to these old eyes like a skirt, who came back after sunup with an empty boat.”