Delivering the Truth (16 page)

I moved through to the library, where William and his brother stood. Blessedly Lillian wasn't standing but sat in a comfortable chair next to her husband. I noticed her brother wasn't at her side. Well, he wasn't related to Thomas except through his sister's marriage. And Lillian didn't seem to need comfort from anyone.

A dozen townspeople preceded me in the line. I was surprised to see the round head of Jotham O'Toole. Hat in hand, he moved
restlessly several places ahead of where I stood. His social class was far from that of the Parrys, if one attended to such things. I imagined William and Lillian paid close attention to class, along with all the other factory owners and their wives. This reception had been opened to the public, though. Certainly no one would try to oust Minnie's brother, although I didn't remember seeing him at the church or at the burial ground.

Jotham glanced at the line behind him. I caught his eye and had started to nod when he turned back. His face was ruddier than usual, likely from helping himself to more than one glass of claret. I remembered his anger in Minnie's rooms and hoped he wasn't about to confront William about her. He had every right to, but not here. Not now. The line inched forward. Cyrus Hamilton leaned over, paying his respects to Lillian. He was a trim man of average height with a neat dark mustache and a hairline halfway toward the crown of his head. Another man with a difficult son; if Stephen were convicted for the Meetinghouse fire, the sentence for arson was severe. Which would be worse, to lose your son to death or to years in either prison or the Danvers Hospital for the Criminally Insane, both places nearly as bad as death?

The line moved again. Jotham reached William where he stood turned away and still speaking to the lady in line ahead of Jotham. William turned back and his eyes widened as if he'd seen a specter. Jotham stuck out his hand and grinned. William shook it but drew his hand back as soon as he could. Jotham leaned in so his mouth was near William's left ear and he spoke so softly I couldn't catch it.

“No!” William cried out, shrinking back. “Leave! Get this man out of here!” His face became the color of bleached linen.

The room quieted. Cyrus, now on his way out of the room, whirled and took a step. Lillian glanced up at the commotion.

Jotham returned her gaze. “Howdy, Mrs. Parry. How's that baby of yours doing? My sister's got one just born, did you know? Named him Billy, she did.”

Lillian gasped and crossed her hands over her belly.

“How dare you?” Cyrus arrived at Jotham's side and grasped his arm. “You, who plied my son with matches at every turn.”

Jotham twisted out of Cyrus's hold and sauntered to the doorway. He glanced around the room. Laughing, he left the house as the mourners watched, shocked and aghast.

twenty-three

After I made sure
Lillian was stable, I left the library. Jotham O'Toole was up to no good, that was clear.

“Miss Carroll,” a man's voice said from behind me. I turned to see Cyrus Hamilton. “Miss Carroll, I want to apologize to you and to your congregation for my son's actions on Sunday. It was inexcusable.”

I gazed into his distraught eyes, his somber face. “I thank thee, Cyrus. Stephen doesn't seem well.”

He shook his head. “He's not. I've tried to get help for him, but nothing has succeeded. And now …” He spread his hands as if in entreaty. To whom I wasn't sure.

I reached out and patted his arm. “Thee is in a difficult situation.”

“I would ask for your prayers for him, if that is possible.”

“We shall hold him in the Light of God.”

“I thank you.” He straightened his back. “I would like to make a monetary contribution to your church—that is, your, uh, Meeting—for any repairs due to the fire.”

“I believe that would be most generous, and most welcome.” I gave him the name of our treasurer. “I'll tell him to expect it. Friends thank thee and wish thee well with thy son. We harbor no anger toward him.”

He bowed his head in acknowledgment then returned to the library. I stood in the foyer, uncertain about my continued purpose here. Perhaps Bertie would provide guidance. I went in search of her.

She stood in the dining room holding forth on the novels of George Eliot to a small group. I stood nearby until she spied me.

“Excuse me,” she said to her listeners, then turned toward me.

Beckoning her away from the group, in a quiet voice I told her about the altercation with Jotham.

She let out a whistle. “I didn't hear a thing. What do you think he said to Parry?”

“I wasn't able to discern. But I'd wager it was about Minnie O'Toole's baby. If I were the wagering type.”

“Want to bet?” Bertie laughed. “I'll corrupt you yet, Quaker Carroll.”

I laughed in return. “I sincerely doubt that. Is thee ready to leave? I have had enough polite company for one day.”

“Likewise for me. Let's go. Did you pay your respects?”

“After a fashion,” I said. “I was in line behind Jotham, so I made sure Lillian didn't suffer from his outburst. And I was already here this morning tending to both Lillian and William. And thee?”

“I don't believe in standing in line to tell somebody I'm sorry their son died. I'll do it in person next time I see each of them.” She glanced around. “Didn't see your David here. He's not interested in funerals?”

I laughed. “He doesn't know the Parrys. It's a bit of a different world across the river in Newburyport. Besides, he's at work. I didn't expect to see him here.”

We fetched our wraps from the foyer and made our way onto the veranda, where we encountered a frowning Kevin Donovan.

“Ah, Miss Carroll. And Bertie Winslow in the bargain. Did either of you happen to be in the room when O'Toole made his move?” He gazed at me, then at Bertie.

“I was,” I said. “But I couldn't hear what Jotham said to William Parry.”

“No one but Parry did, apparently. And he's not talking.” Kevin removed his hat and rubbed his head until his
carrot-colored
hair stood straight up. “I suppose I'll have to go track down this Jotham character. We can't have ruffians like him being rude to upstanding citizens like Mr. Parry.”

“I can tell thee where Jotham's sister lives,” I volunteered. “I delivered her of a baby only one week ago.” I described how to find Minnie's place on Pearl Street.

“And why did this Jotham feel the need to bring up that baby with William Parry?” Kevin shook his head.

I glanced at a
bright-eyed
Bertie. I lowered my voice, even though the porch was empty but for we three. Bertie edged closer to me and Kevin leaned in to hear.

“I might as well tell thee. Minnie's was the flat I saw William Parry enter. She seems to be of little evident means of income, yet wears fine clothing and paid me in full for my services on the day of her son's birth.”

“Ah, so the plot thickens, as they say in those books of yours.” Kevin spread his feet and clasped his hands behind him.

“In fact, William Parry asked me directly not to mention to his wife that he had paid a visit to Minnie.” I held up a hand when I saw Kevin about to speak. “I didn't promise to support his subterfuge, but I also don't want to upset a client getting close to term.”

“So Parry has been running around and he now has a bastard child to show for it.” Kevin rocked on his heels. “The secret of the harlot's identity comes out at last.”

“I told thee she isn't a harlot. A young woman who was taken advantage of, certainly. But remember I said I wondered if somehow Minnie's baby might be at the root of the recent troubles? The fire and Thomas's stabbing, that is.”

“Your theories again.” Kevin snorted. “Well, when you figure out more details of that fantasy of yours, Miss Carroll, do stop by the station and let me know.” He walked into the house.

I stared as he disappeared through the doorway into the house. Wasn't he the one who'd asked me to keep my eyes and my brain working for him?

Bertie tucked her hand through my elbow. “Doesn't sound so fantastical to me. Come on, let's talk it through as we walk. I did hear a rumor in the post office about Parry being a little too friendly with dear Minnie since before his marriage to Lillian. But how does that get Thomas killed?”

I sighed as we made our way down the steps of the veranda toward the road. “Suppose … no, that doesn't work.”

Bertie glanced at me.

“I thought perhaps Minnie would want to get back at Lillian, but why? Anyway, Lillian didn't even like Thomas. Maybe she hired someone to kill him.”

Bertie grimaced. “Talk about a wicked stepmother. It sounds like something out of
Grimms' Fairy Tales
.”

“I could see Jotham setting the fire, though, to punish William for impregnating Minnie. I surely hope the arsonist wasn't Ephraim Pickard.”

“Ephraim's wife is my second cousin,” Bertie said.

“Did thee know Kevin has arrested him for both the mill fire arson and the murder?”

Bertie nodded, her eyebrows nearly touching. “Ephraim is always trying to get ahead but hasn't had much luck yet. I'll take his wife some food. Poor thing. I'll take some to Ephraim himself, too. I can only imagine what slop they serve in the jail.”

“Maybe Jotham killed Thomas to punish William further. I wonder if Kevin has thought of that.” We crossed over Sparhawk and made our way along Whittier Street.

“Not if he's focused on Ephraim, he hasn't.”

“I am resolved to find a solution to these mysteries. The mill arson and the murder. I no longer have much faith that Kevin will.”

We reached the small house Bertie shared with Sophie, tucked behind a larger home. Her cottage garden in front was already sprouting
bright-colored
tulips and jonquils, and I knew the rambling rose that decorated the low fence would be a riot of pink come June.

“Come in while I put together a couple of meals?” Bertie cocked her head, one hand on the gate. “Sophie's at work and I can use your help. Then we can visit Ephraim together.”

I hesitated. “I'm tired from all my walking to and fro this day, and I need to get back.”

“You need a horse,” Bertie said. “Or a bicycle.”

“I had that same thought this morning. One of those new safety bicycles.”

“I saw them for sale at Clark's. Do you know how to ride, though?”

“I do, in fact,” I said. “My wild cousin Sephronia taught me one summer when I was still in school. The balance takes a bit of learning, but I think the wheels of equal size should prove much easier.”

“I can lend you some riding bloomers.” She opened the front door. “Are you coming in, then?”

“Oh, why not?” Two sleuthing heads should be more effective than one and perhaps we could learn something from the poor jailed man.

Bertie and I stood in the police office anteroom a couple of hours later. She held a basket covered by a checked napkin.

“We simply want to have a word with Ephraim Pickard after we bring him his supper,” Bertie said, gesturing to the packet wrapped in paper and string I held and raising her basket.

The young officer at the desk pursed his lips. “That's not common,” he said.

Bertie flashed him a brilliant smile. “We'll only be a minute.”

“We feed the prisoners, you know.” He lifted his chin.

“I'm afraid the fare from Mrs. Colby's boarding house scarcely provides a nutritious meal. Let us pass now, if you will.”

The poor fellow was no match for Bertie. I found it curious she knew so much about what prisoners were fed, though. He stood.

“Let me inspect the basket, then.”

Bertie pulled the covering cloth aside and the officer poked about in it.

“Looks like food, all right,” he said. “And smells mighty enticing, I must say.” Fetching a ring of keys from the drawer, he led us back to the cells. Two men faced each other on a cot in one cell, playing cards in the space between them. In another enclosure a grizzled man
flashed us a toothless smile. The air smelled of men crowded too close: old sweat and a hint of urine, seasoned by fear, anger, and hopelessness.

The guard pointed to the far set of bars, where Ephraim sat bent over on the edge of a cot, his head in his hands. “Visitors, Pickard—ladies,” the guard barked out. “Sit up, now, and mind you behave.” The guard reached forward and unlocked the door, then stepped back to wait several cells away.

Ephraim raised his head. When he saw Bertie, a weak smile broke open his misery, but then he turned his eyes to me. The brief moment of sunshine became a scowl.

“What's she doing here? She's the one what put me in here.” He rose and shook a finger in my direction.

“Calm yourself, cousin, calm yourself,” Bertie said. “Rose and I brought you some supper we cooked up ourselves.”

“I believe in thy innocence, Ephraim.” I tried to keep my own countenance calm, clasping my hands in front of me.

“You told that detective you saw me at the fire,” he said. “I never set it, and I didn't kill nobody, neither.”

“I'm sure the detective will discover the true arsonist and murderer soon and thee will be freed,” I said.

Bertie sat on the cot. “Let us show you the victuals we brought.”

“You shouldn't be bringing me food. I get fed here, after a fashion.”

“I know Mrs. Colby's cooking.” Bertie snorted. “She skimps on every dish, plus she's half blind. It can't taste like anything.”

“I'm not complaining. It's my wife and children, now, they're being the ones who need—”

“We dropped off a full basket for them, as well,” Bertie said. She patted him on the arm. “Don't you worry.”

Ephraim sank down next to Bertie, his elbows resting on his thighs.

I remained standing near the door. “Can thee tell us why the detective thinks thee killed Thomas Parry?” I asked.

“Because Thomas fired me. But if every man he'd fired came after him with a weapon, he'd a been dead long ago.” He folded his hands and stared at them.

“Does thee not have anyone to vouch for thy presence during the hours before Thomas's body was discovered?”

He gazed up at me. “Detective asked me the same question. It's called an alibi. After supper I was so distraught at being out of work I went walking. I made it all the way up to Powow Hill and just sat there, looking at the stars. It's one of my interests, see, the study of astronomy. The constellations and the planets.” He shook his head. “I was alone and didn't come back home until near dawn.”

“And Donovan doesn't believe you.” Bertie narrowed her eyes.

“No, he does not.”

“He can't have any real evidence,” I said.

The guard approached us. “Time's up, ladies.” He jingled the ring of keys.

Bertie stretched her arm around Ephraim's back and squeezed him in for a sideways embrace, then stood. “You'll be out in two shakes of a lamb's tail, cousin. Not to fear. I will watch out for your family, too.”

“I wish thee well and hold thee in the Light, Ephraim.”

He gazed at me for a moment. “Thank you, Miss Carroll. I suppose that's your Quaker way of prayer, and I can use all the prayers I can get.”

Bertie and I watched as the officer locked the cell door and then we followed him back to the office. Before the door clanged shut, I glanced back. Ephraim sat with head in hands just as we had found him.