Merry tracked down Mr. Porter to his small office. Mr. Benning’s clerk scrambled to his feet at her entrance, offering her the seat he had occupied while his underlings disappeared so quickly they might never have been there at all.
“You all right, miss?”
Merry closed her eyes briefly, and then opened them again, allowing the tears to resurface. “I’m greatly distressed about Jerusha.”
Mr. Porter turned away, rummaging with a teapot and clay mug. “I’ve got some tea.”
“I don’t think she is guilty.”
His hands paused in their deft movement. He half turned his head toward her. “I can’t say as I agree with you. Though it’s sure sad.” His words were low and rough as if they cost him something to say. “Truth be told, it don’t matter a great deal what either of us thinks.”
“Perhaps not, but what really happened matters a great deal. As does catching the real killer. I need you to tell me all you can of Mr. Fraser.”
He shook his head. “That won’t help.”
“You cannot know that.” She raised her gaze to him in earnest supplication. “Please.”
“Naw, miss. I think you’d best just leave this sort of thing to the officials. You don’t need to trouble yourself.”
Merry’s patience had nearly run its course. If she could, she would have snatched the knowledge from his head by force. Instead she forced a sweet simper. “I hope you understand that I am here at the direct request of Mrs. Benning. She is most unsettled in her mind about all that has happened and will be evaluating all of the employees most carefully, now that the responsibility for the estate has fallen on her shoulders.”
He sank back into his seat across from her, looking as resentful as if he had been bested in a prizefight. “What do you want to know?”
“Had there been a break between Mr. Fraser and Mr. Benning?”
“How did you know ’bout that?”
The answer was there, just beyond her grasp. “What happened?”
“I don’t know for sure. Mr. Benning was troubled ’bout something and wrote to ask Mr. Fraser to come right away. They don’t usually come till later in the year when the House of Burgesses meets.”
“Then the matter was urgent.”
“Must’ve been. Mr. Benning took whatever it was hard. He even started taking a draught to help him sleep at night. That’s what poisoned him, you know. That draught Jerusha took him.”
“That is what the sheriff believes.” She could not allow herself to be diverted into an argument. “Would you say this all happened suddenly? It wasn’t frustration that had been building?”
“Sudden as a kick in the pants, I’d say. Mr. Benning was fine; then he read his post and was in a tearing hurry. He tore up his study looking for some report or other about a ship. Took me near a week to get everything filed away again.”
“What ship? Do you remember the name?”
His lips pursed, and he looked into the middle distance. “I don’t rightly recall. It was Furnace or Feen …”
Merry’s eyes widened. “Phoenix.”
“If you already know the story, why are you bedeviling me?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Porter, I don’t know the story. It was just that that particular ship has come up before. Did Mr. Benning find what he was looking for?”
“It was right where it was supposed to be. He was just too upset. I pulled it out straightaway when he called me in to help.”
“Do you know what it was?”
“A letter of appraisal on the Phoenix needing repairs.”
That wasn’t what she had expected. It certainly didn’t seem to be the sort of document worthy of such a frenzied search. She must be missing something.
“What sort of repairs?”
“From what I can recollect, ’bout near everything. There were the usual small things, but they said she needed a new copper bottom. She was hulled once in an action and never did get patched up good. Caused lots of problems. Worse yet, her knees were all but useless, and they’d have had to replace them.”
“Is that expensive?”
“It’s nearly cheaper to build a whole new ship than do repairs like that.”
A glimmer of an idea poked through Merry’s confusion. “But she was insured?”
“Oh yes. All the ships and goods are insured. Mr. Benning was no fool.”
“Insurance wouldn’t pay for routine repairs though. Only if the ship were lost?”
“That’s right.”
Merry sat back. It explained a great deal. If Fraser received the same report, he may have just grabbed at the chance to make as much profit as he could. By offloading the cargo, he was paid for it several times, once by the private insurance he obtained, once by the joint policy, and once by whomever he had eventually sold it to. And he did not have to pay for any costly repairs for the Phoenix. It must have seemed the perfect opportunity.
But then somehow Mr. Benning had figured it all out and summoned him to Williamsburg. Fraser must have known his time was limited.
“Do you have the letter of assessment?”
He shook his head. “Mr. Benning took it somewhere.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
“Would you recognize it if you saw it again?”
“Probably.”
“Do you know if Mr. Benning confronted Mr. Fraser?”
“I doubt it. There wasn’t much time for one thing. Mr. Benning was a gentleman. He wouldn’t have said anything in front of the ladies.”
“Did they meet privately that night?”
“I think Mr. Benning meant to meet Mr. Fraser in the morning. He’d have plenty of time to sort out business.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Look here, Miss Lattimore. I don’t see what this has to do with anything. Mr. Fraser is wealthy in his own right. Even if he and Mr. Benning parted ways, he wouldn’t be ruined. He could find someone else to partner up with if he wanted.”
Merry looked into the clerk’s deep-set little eyes. “You are probably right. I have been thinking too hard.”
Mr. Porter blew a gust of air out. “I guess it’s been a nasty shock for you ladies.”
“Yes, well thank you, Mr. Porter. I can see that I have taken up too much of your time. I do apologize.” Merry stood and offered a guileless smile.
Merry found Abigail in the parlor listening to Emma practice on the pianoforte. John sat on the floor at her feet playing with his tin soldiers. The moment he spied Merry, he tugged her down to join him.
“You be the French.”
John led a whinnying, snorting cavalry charge designed to decimate her forces.
“I’m Colonel Washington,” he crowed.
Great swathes of her soldiers fell, and even the artillery could not prevail against such dashing horsemanship.
Emma’s piece ended and Merry clapped enthusiastically. Flushed with success, the little girl began a new selection. John, his tongue protruding slightly between his teeth, concentrated on forming new battle lines.
Merry turned to Abigail. “Where is Mrs. Fraser this afternoon?”
“I’m afraid she has a headache. She is resting.”
“It’s good to see the children so full of vitality.”
“God has been so gracious to bless me with them. I was so afraid while they were ill. And then Reginald …” The tip of Abigail’s nose turned red as did her eyes. She plucked a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed at her eyes. “Excuse me.”
Merry placed a hand on her arm in silent commiseration. She had no words that could heal Abigail’s grief. Not when she could not even stem the tide of her own sorrow.
She lowered her voice. “Have you or one of the servants come across any papers that Mr. Benning might have hidden somewhere? Particularly anything to do with a ship named the Phoenix?”
Abigail cocked her head to one side. “No. I don’t think so. Surely the man to ask would be Mr. Porter?”
“I’ve spoken to him, and these papers are no longer in the office.”
“Do you think it has aught to do with his murder?”
“It could. I do not know, and I would not ruin your good opinion of a man without just cause. Are you certain that nothing odd has turned up?”
“When you phrase it that way, something very odd turned up indeed.” From the table beside her Abigail plucked a key wrapped tightly in a bit of paper. She held it out to Merry, who unwound the paper to discover that it was a receipt from Lorring’s Tavern for the amount of twenty shillings. A note in the upper left hand read,
Nth Rm, Sep Prv Ent.
“Isaiah brought it to me yesterday. He found it in the pocket of Reginald’s best waistcoat. I cannot make heads nor tails of it. Lorring’s is far from the best tavern in town, nor is it convenient.”
Merry’s mind worked as busily as a gristmill as it ground through possibilities. Could Lorring have agreed to hold the papers for Mr. Benning? But then he might as easily have requested a friend do the honor for free and with surer certainty of discretion.
“Mr. Benning did not frequent Lorring’s then?”
“Almost never.”
The receipt by itself could merely have been for an evening’s entertainment, except that it did not itemize the fare or drinks, as would have been mandated by town regulations. And then of course, why the key?
Merry looked at the slip more closely. Nth Rm, Sep Prv Ent.
Could it be that Rm stood for room? Tavern owners had to provide lodging at set rates for travelers. Perhaps Mr. Benning had stayed there? But that made no sense either. The cost was beyond exorbitant, and he had been on his plantation or at home; he had not stayed at some tavern, nor would he have in such a small town, where gossip would have been rife.
Merry gnawed at her lower lip and allowed her troops to be soundly thrashed again by Colonel Washington.
Tavern keepers also rented out meeting rooms. What if Mr. Benning had obtained one of those for the long term—a place to keep the documents he wanted to secure? Somewhere away from his own household, where he knew Mr. Fraser would be staying. Somewhere with no clear relation to him. Somewhere safe.
What if the receipt referred to the North Room of Lorring’s Tavern? Was it possible that the room had a separate, private entrance? An entrance granted by the key growing warm in her clenched fingers?
Graham settled his hat and left the clerk of court’s office. He’d made good headway. The man was certainly knowledgeable in any event. And not just about the law.
He picked up his pace. Connor would be waiting at Chowning’s. He needed a bit of something to eat. A nice veal pie and a suet pudding. His mouth watered. He could practically smell it, though it was unlikely he’d find any. These colonials seemed to eat naught but pork.
His feet flew out from under him as rough hands hauled him into the shadow of a narrow alley. An arm clenched tight around his neck. A harsh whisper rasped against his ear. “Let the Negress swing, or you’ll be sorry.”
Graham stomped on the man’s instep, eliciting a howl. A sharp backward thrust of his elbow made the attacker gasp. Grabbing the arm around his neck, Graham twisted in a long, fluid motion, freeing himself and spinning the other man until Graham stood behind him and had the attacker pressed face-first against the wall.
A blow to Graham’s lower back made him grunt in pain. Another pair of hands took him by the arms and hauled him backward.
The first man recovered and spun to deliver a sharp kick.
Graham threw his head back, striking the man who held him in the face. The grip on his arms loosened, and Graham wrenched free, but a blow to his stomach expelled the air from his lungs in a whoosh.
He staggered and would have fallen except that a steadying hand righted him. The attackers fled.
He glanced up to find Connor at his shoulder.
“Let’s go after them.”
Connor shook his head. “They’ll have already disappeared. If this was London, I could track them anywhere in the city, but I haven’t found my depth here yet.”
Graham eased himself onto a packing crate, rubbing his stomach. “Not that I’m ungrateful, but what brings you this way? I thought we were to meet at Chowning’s.”
Connor grinned. “Seems I’ve come across some information that might be helpful.”
“You’re acquainted with the sorts of documents Mr. Benning’s business required, aren’t you, Isaiah?”
“Yes miss.”
“Would you recognize one?”
“I can read, miss. And I know Mr. Benning’s hand as well as anyone.”
“Then I need your help after supper. I believe Mr. Benning hid some documents away from where Mr. Fraser could easily get at them. We must retrieve those papers. If anyone asks, I will say I am performing a commission for his widow in fetching some papers she needs in regards to his estate.”
Isaiah nodded.
“Has Mr. Fraser been in Mr. Benning’s office?”
“Every day, miss. And he don’t want no help. Locks himself in in the morning and don’t come out for meals half the time.”
“Mr. Benning was a wise man to move those documents away from his home. If Mr. Fraser should emerge from his seclusion, you must keep him occupied if you can. Find some pretext to distract him from the trial tomorrow. I don’t want him thinking to look elsewhere for the report on the Phoenix.”
“Yes miss. I can do that sure enough.”
“Good.” Merry sighed. “Then I am going to see Jerusha before dinner. I’d like to give her reason to hope.”