A Simple Shaker Murder (30 page)

A few moments passed, and Rose became suspicious. She expected Elsa to begin speaking in tongues and perhaps convey messages from Mother Ann, but the silence continued. Elsa seemed to be waiting—for what, Rose understood as soon as she saw Wilhelm step inside the circle. He held large sheets of paper that could only be Mairin's drawings. He handed them out to three sisters and three brethren, murmuring instructions. The Believers turned their drawings outward, all facing Elsa.

Rose checked the New-Owenites' reactions. Clearly, they had not expected this. Celia and Earl leaned close and whispered to one another. The other New-Owenites closed ranks with them, and hands jerked in agitated gestures.

Matthew and his group also huddled together and appeared to be arguing. Wilhelm ignored them all. He stepped outside the circle surrounding Elsa and signaled to the chorus to begin
another unfamiliar song. Rose couldn't hear the lyrics, but the tune was unusual. Most Shaker songs had a sweet simplicity and could be sung by most anyone. This one extended beyond the range of most Believers, and, to Rose's astonishment, included some harmony. She wondered if this had been Elsa's idea, and if it was meant to give her a special place as the chosen instrument who brought truly new music to the Believers.

Elsa opened her eyes and stretched out her arms, palms upward. She began a slow circle, round and round, giving her a few seconds' view of each picture, as if she were studying a mural. The plan was now clear. Elsa would slip into a trance and become an instrument for—whom? Probably for Holy Mother Wisdom, since she was thought to be the giver of gift drawings. Then what? Rose could guess. Elsa was to bring forth a message from Holy Mother which instructed the New-Owenites to open their hearts to the Society of Believers in Christ's Second Appearing. They would be urged to give up their carnal ways and accept the guidance of Mother Ann—and undoubtedly of Elder Wilhelm.

Of all Wilhelm's schemes to reinvigorate the Shakers, this was surely his most foolish—and his most desperate. He must be worried. He was not alone. Matthew and his followers watched, their hands tightened into fists, ready to fight.

At the New-Owenite end of the room, Celia bolted upright. She began to moan and sway, while her companions fell back to let her be seen.

“Who are you?” Celia wailed. “Make yourself known to me. Why have you called me?” Her body grew still, and her head jerked backward as if she'd been hit. She fell back, and Earl caught her, in a movement too seamless to be spontaneous. He lowered her limp body onto a chair and stepped aside.

Celia's body stiffened as if a jolt of electricity shot through her. She raised her hands toward the ceiling, and her lace shawl slipped off to reveal slender, bare arms. Slowly, she stood, arching her body in a graceful movement that seemed almost to lift her off the ground. She had the attention of the
room. Most Believers' faces showed fascination as well as discomfort. Matthew's expression was closer to worship.

“I have returned to help you, my faithful followers,” Celia said. Her voice came out in a lower register, with a distinctly British accent.

“You are Robert Owen, aren't you, sir?” Earl said. “You can see we are in turmoil. Tell us what we must do.”

Rose edged back to the wall, unwilling to be a part of the charade. Across the room from her, close to the ceiling, was the observation window, where elders and eldresses sometimes used to watch worship services, especially when the public attended. The small room had not been used since Agatha, frail and ill, had stepped down as eldress. Rose preferred to be an active part of the worship. Now she had a strong desire to be closeted away, watching from behind glass. To reach the door leading upstairs, she would have to sneak around half the perimeter of the room, behind the Shakers and behind Matthew's group, but it was worth a try. Near the observation room was a small office with a phone, should she need to make another effort—no matter how fruitless—to convince the Sheriff to come.

With everyone's attention on the show, reaching the door proved easy. Matthew and his followers were especially oblivious to anything but Celia. Rose was through the door, up the stairs, and into the dark observation room before Celia had finished entrancing the audience with her lithe movements. As Rose pulled a chair up to the window, Celia began again her rendition of Robert Owen. It was loud enough for Rose to hear. The acting was quite good, Rose had to admit, but Celia had miscalculated the accent. Robert Owen had been Welsh, and Celia's tones were pure, public-school English. Rose had heard both accents during her time as the Society's trustee, in her dealings with businessmen from the world.

“First, you must hear the truth,” Celia/Robert announced. “I, Robert Owen, am the only one in this room who knows the truth, because I have seen it for myself. I am a shade from the spirit world. Yes, there is a spirit world, where all of you
will go someday. But there is no God, and there is no heaven. I know it is hard for the Shakers among you to hear this, but it is best to hear it now. Stop living a lie!” By now, Celia/Robert was shouting over the agitated voices filling the air.

“Enough of this blasphemy!” Elder Wilhelm's voice boomed across the room. “We know the truth already. Do not allow these godless liars to mislead you, brethren. It is a trick—and a test of our faith. Mother Ann will never—”

“She is here!” Celia's voice deepened with power. “Mother Ann is standing here beside me.”

The room grew quiet. Even Wilhelm was stunned into silence.

“Mother Ann is a shade, like me. She has been trying for countless decades to reveal the truth to you. She loves you, and she grieves when she sees how you've lost your way.”

Across the room from Celia's drama, Wilhelm conferred with a group of nearby Believers, including the chorus and Elsa. They leaned toward him to hear what must be whispered commands, then they spread apart. The chorus took its place again, and the sisters and brethren passed a message down their rows, which began to straighten. Wilhelm stood with the chorus.

“Listen. Listen to Mother Ann. Listen to me!” Celia's voice rose to a higher pitch, but maintained its English accent. This time Celia had done more study—or perhaps she just knew how to imitate a Cockney accent, but not a Welsh one. In a compelling, uneducated voice, “Mother Ann” said, “My beloved children. So often I've sent you word of your misunderstandings. I've tried to show you the right way. I can't rest until I have corrected the false beliefs that have been forced upon you in my name. I've sent messages through a child—”

The chorus began a boisterous march, bellowing so loudly that voices cracked. After a few fumbled steps, the Believers clapped, stomped their feet, and marched in time with the music. Celia was startled enough to interrupt her rendition of Mother Ann and scowl at the dancers. Earl stepped forward
to whisper in her ear, then pulled a bench away from the wall. Celia climbed on top of the bench, forgoing grace for speed, and faced the Believers, who were coming to the end of their dance. Earl stayed just behind her, well placed to catch her should Mother Ann nudge her off balance.

Celia inhaled deeply and shuddered. But before she could speak, the chorus began singing again.

“This is your loving Mother Ann.” Projecting over the ruckus gave her voice a harsh edge. “Listen! You have been duped. Fight these evil leaders of yours. Hear the truth from me!”

Wilhelm and the chorus joined in with the dancers' foot-stomping and clapping. Rose's eyes darted back and forth between the enemies, judging whether it would be wise to leave and call the police, with the hope that she might get Grady. She gave up the idea as Matthew's group came out of its stupor and filtered among the dancers. At first, Rose thought they planned to join the brethren in the march.

They slipped through the line of brethren and approached the sisters. Matthew reached one of the younger sisters and reached out a hand for her. She took it. She slid into the circle of Matthew's arm, and the two began dancing to their own rhythm. One of the New-Owenite men claimed the hand of another young sister and danced away with her. As the couples swirled around the meeting room floor, Rose caught sight of the women's faces. They were Lottie and Frieda, the young sisters Celia had lectured on the Shakers' unfairness to women.

The remaining Believers bumped into one another as they witnessed the sin unfolding before them. Celia, having parted ways with Mother Ann, watched with a smirk on her face. Earl helped her down off the bench and swept her into a dance.

The brethren's door to the Meetinghouse opened. Gilbert entered. Rose felt her heart pound in her head. She'd forgotten about Gilbert, had forgotten to worry about what he might be up to. Now it was clear. Behind him, dragging away from his firm grasp, was Mairin. He had found her, and he intended to use her to turn the battle in his favor. Using his free hand;
Gilbert grabbed Mairin's arm and pushed her in front of him. Before she regained her balance, he picked her up and held her around her waist, flopping against his hip. She struggled, but Gilbert had a wiry strength that easily overpowered her.

So far, Rose was the only one who'd noticed Gilbert and Mairin. Three couples still danced around the floor, and the Shakers were trying to reestablish their dance lines, while a couple of New-Owenite men grabbed at some protesting sisters. Wilhelm threatened the men with eternal damnation in between shouting choruses of a march the singers were belting out with increasingly hoarse voices. For the first time in her memory, Rose cheered Elsa as she executed a deft twirl away from the grasp of a New-Owenite man.

Gilbert marched Mairin into the center of the room, between the sisters and the brethren. He plunked her down on the floor in front of her drawings, which had been dropped in the confusion. A New-Owenite woman ran forward and arranged the drawings in a circle around Gilbert and Mairin. Taking the girl by the shoulders, Gilbert turned her in a circle around the drawings. He whispered something to her, and she shook her head.

A primal rage surged through Rose's body. She felt compassion for the sisters, but they could take care of themselves. But not Mairin . . . Mairin had no one but herself—and Rose. But what could Rose do, besides confronting Gilbert and stealing Mairin away, which might not work?

Gilbert nudged Mairin toward her own drawings, keeping a tight grip on her small shoulder. Mairin turned slowly until she came to the drawing of the lovely, bejeweled bird with the emerald eyes. She stopped and stared at the image, and Rose made her decision. There was no time for a futile call to the Sheriff's Office. She ran down the stairs and through the door to the meeting room, no longer caring if anyone saw her. She entered a spellbound room. Even the dancing couples had stopped to watch Gilbert and the little girl. Rose walked openly toward the center of the room.

“Tell them, child,” Gilbert said. “Tell them all what you have seen, and what it really means.”

Rose's senses were alert. Rescuing Mairin was her object, and she had to know her enemy—all of them. Matthew's group was silent, waiting, while the Believers twittered in confusion. Celia watched, like a rapt play-goer. Next to her, Earl stood motionless and expressionless.

Mairin reached down and picked up the bird drawing. She held it to her chest as she moved to the drawing of the snake climbing up the tree.

“Tell them,” Gilbert said, with impatience. “Tell them how rotten their tree of life is. Tell them that you are the child sent by Mother Ann, that their only hope for survival is in giving up their foolish beliefs and joining with us to form a new world.”

Rose stopped in her tracks, her thoughts tangled in confusion. Gilbert believed what he was saying. He truly believed that the Shakers could be saved only by becoming New-Owenites. He was ruthless, but not a liar. He believed that Mairin was an instrument of Mother Ann and probably Robert Owen, too.

All at once, several puzzle pieces snapped into place. Everything made sense—Mairin's fear, the contradictory information about Hugh, even the divergent opinions about Celia. Her mind flashed quickly through the time since she'd returned from the east. She knew she was right. All the confusion had come from one source. One person had insisted that Hugh was a monster and Celia an innocent victim. One man had nurtured the rumor that Hugh was being hunted down by gangsters because of his gambling debts, even though there'd been no sign of dangerous visitors since the New-Owenites arrived: Earl Weston.

The suicide note was a puzzle. Earl Weston had fed Rose the information that Hugh had sometimes printed, instead of using script. Printing is easier to forge. He must have planted it in Hugh's room, so Gilbert would find it as he gathered Hugh's notes. If the note was ever exposed as a forgery, Gilbert would be the first suspect. But why didn't Sheriff Brock sense a hoax?

All eyes except Rose's were on Gilbert and Mairin, in the center of the room. Rose watched Earl as he edged toward the
sisters' entrance. She guessed that he was planning to slip out the door and make his escape. She made an instant decision. The inner doorway she'd just come through also led to a back door. If she could get to the sisters' entrance as Earl emerged, maybe she could stop him. She considered letting him escape and sending Sheriff Brock after him, but she doubted the Sheriff's diligence, and Mairin would never be safe as long as Earl roamed the countryside.

She ducked through the door, grabbed her skirts, and ran outside onto the dew-soaked grass. The darkness would be useful, she thought. Perhaps she could surprise Earl as he came out the door, catch him off guard. She had no idea what she would do then. Violence was abhorrent to her, but she trusted Holy Mother Wisdom to grant her an inspiration when the time came.

There was no one in sight when Rose reached the sisters' entrance. The door remained closed. Rose took the risk of moving to a window and peeking inside, hoping the darkness would keep her invisible to the inhabitants. She could see the area in front of the sisters' entrance. Earl was still backing toward it.