Delivering the Truth (19 page)

Or perhaps it was my need to see right done in the world. My parents, especially my mother, had often spoken of the role of Friends in achieving equality in our society. Mother had been adamant that I should make seeking truth and justice my life's work no matter what profession I pursued.

After some minutes of walking, my knee felt strong enough to ride again. I remounted my steel steed and resolved to go directly to William Parry. He had to acknowledge Billy, and I wanted to warn him about Jotham's threat, as well. William had buried his first son only yesterday, though. I didn't know if he'd still be at home or out seeking to reestablish his business. As it was ten o'clock, I decided to search for him on Carriage Hill. Sure enough, after I cycled up the slope, I spied him striding away from the ruins of his factory toward a waiting carriage, a liveried driver standing at attention.

“Oh, William,” I called. I didn't dare lift a hand from the handlebars in case I lost my still precarious balance. “Hello?” I tried out the bell and was pleased when it dinged twice, once as I pressed the thumb handle, once when it released.

William turned his head and slowed to a stop as I rolled up. “Yes, Miss Carroll? My, that is some kind of transport.”

I nodded as I swung my leg through the vee of the cycle to dismount and tried to regain my breath from pedaling up the steep incline.

“You were looking for me?” His eyes carried sadness and something more, but he squared his shoulders.

“I was.” I swallowed. “Pardon me while I catch my breath. I'm recalling my bicycle skills from long ago.” I smiled, then inhaled deeply.

“It's a new model, that,” he observed. “I'd read about the safety bicycle. Appears much more sensible than what is in common use.”

“It is.” I became more somber. “William, has thee heard the awful news?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Awful news?”

“Yes. Minnie O'Toole, newly delivered of a son only days ago, was murdered last evening.” I watched him. “It's terribly sad.”

“What? How can that be? How do you know?” William stared at me for a moment, then turned away, sinking his brow into his hand. With a shake of his head, he faced me again, his nostrils flared, his hand dropping helplessly to his side. “What happened to her?”

“I'm afraid she was stabbed. I heard of it from the police. They are investigating, of course.”

“Of course.” He paused, his eyes downcast, before saying, “So much death. Too much death.”

“William, I believe Minnie's infant son, Billy, is thy child. In fact, she named him for thee. Is this true?”

He stared at me again. He blinked hard, then pressed his lips together.

“Thee does not wish to acknowledge thy offspring, but many have linked thy name with Minnie's. Including thee, to me, only last week. Or does thee not wish to remember our conversation?” I knew I was being bold, but I didn't care. The baby needed his father, now more than ever. I had to seek justice.

His face reddening, he took a step toward me. I took my own step, placing the bicycle between us. He glared but still didn't speak.

“The baby is in the care of a wet nurse for now. But he'll need thy support as he grows.” I mounted my cycle but kept my feet on the ground. “Please take the moral high ground and acknowledge thy son. It is only just.”

“My wife wouldn't stand for it. Don't you see?” His face changed from angry to stricken, and the words sounded ripped out of him. “She thinks our baby is the only one in the universe. She'd kill me.”

“She might not be the only one. I should warn thee I encountered Jotham O'Toole earlier this morning. He's dreadfully angry with thee.”

“That hothead.” His tone dismissed Jotham. “He had the nerve to come into my home, with my Thomas barely buried.”

“He said to me he believes thee killed his sister.” I watched William's face change again, this time to incredulity.

“Why would I kill Minnie? She was a sweet girl.” He spread his hands wide, his eyes still sad.

“Or that thy wife did.”

“Lillian?” He laughed. “She wouldn't hurt a fly. And couldn't, either. She's a hothouse flower at any time, and now, in her condition? This man must be some kind of lunatic.”

“I'm only conveying what I heard. He also threatened thee. I might advise traveling with a bodyguard of some kind.”

His eyes narrowed as he turned on his heel and strode for his carriage. He called over his shoulder, “Nobody threatens William Parry.”

twenty-seven

I rolled down the
hill, William's words echoing in my ears as the cobblestones rattled my teeth. A client would visit my parlor clinic at one o'clock. Before then I needed to visit Billy and Patience, and perhaps check on Nell, as well. I braked and then put both feet on the ground as I reached Market Square, waiting for an open spot in the traffic before I attempted to cross and head up Main Street. When I felt a hand on my shoulder, I whirled, only to laugh.

“John Whittier! You startled me.” I patted my heart.

“Thee has acquired a conveyance. An excellent choice for thy profession, I dare say.” His eyes twinkled.

“Well, it will be once I find my balance again.” As always, I was pleased to see him. “I learned to ride a bicycle on a packed dirt road at my parents' farm. It's not as easy on these paving stones.”

“And did thee find the fancy dress of which we spoke?”

“I did. It's actually a simple fancy dress, which suits me. It's even the color of my name.” I smiled, thinking of the little girl calling me a princess.

“I would be lost in that regard. My mother discovered, after she sent the
six-year
-old me out to harvest strawberries, that I do not see colors. Or at least not the difference between red and green.” He laughed. “She was well displeased when I proudly carried in a basket of hard unripe berries.”

“Gracious, that is a funny story,” I said, then sobered. “I'm not as certain about my comportment at the event itself, but David Dodge assures me I'll do fine.”

“Good. There will be that of God in all who attend. Thee needs only to search for that sameness we all share.”

I nodded. “True.” It would be a challenge, but I'd attempt to meet it for David's sake.

“And what about my visit with David's mother that we discussed?”

“So much has been happening I forgot all about it.” I cringed a little at my absentmindedness. “When is thee free?”

“I could see her this afternoon. Not this Seventh or First Day, as I'm off to visit Hampton Falls, where my friend Celia Thaxter will join me. Or I could receive David's mother early in the next week. Whenever she likes, if it helps thee.”

I snorted. “I'm not certain anything will help me with that society matron who wants to see her son marry a young lady of his own class. But I'll write her a note as soon as I arrive home from my visits.”

“It sounds to me as if David has a mind of his own. Thee should not worry.” He patted my shoulder. “Where is thee off to now?”

My smile disappeared. “To see a baby without his mother and a mother without her son.”

“Minnie O'Toole's child.” His twinkle also vanished. “Another murder in our fair town.”

I nodded. “And Patience Henderson, whose infant son died only days ago. She agreed last evening to nurse tiny Billy, and I must check on them.”

“I'll accompany thee partway.”

“I'd be pleased.” I dismounted my bike and we made our way across the busy intersection.

John strolled at my side wearing a somber expression, his cane appearing more for show than for support. “Our Kevin Donovan must be feeling less than effective,” he said. “To have a suspect in jail and yet another killing occur. There are either two murderers or the wrong one has been arrested.”

“I'm convinced of Ephraim's innocence.” I steered my cycle around a pile of manure.

“Does thee have evidence?”

“I'm afraid not. I simply don't believe he would kill someone.”

“The court of the land will need more than that, Rose.”

I sighed. “I know. If I could find the real killer, I wouldn't need evidence of Ephraim's innocence. And yet …”

John watched me for a moment. “And yet, what?”

“I fear Nell Gilbert might have acted insanely.”

“Young Guy's wife?”

“Exactly. She's suffering from an acute depressive state and also had access to the murder weapon.” I winced at the thought of my mother's lovely painted tool plunging into Thomas's vein, bringing his life to a sudden close.

“Thy knitting needle. But why would Nell kill Thomas Parry? She is a young mother and wife. Did Thomas wrong her in some way?”

“It's possible at some time in the past. Now she hasn't a reason in the world to harm him. But insanity doesn't consort with reason much, I think.”

Kevin strode out of George Wendall's barber shop directly in front of us, rubbing his newly smooth cheek with one hand as he placed his uniform hat on his head with the other. “What's this about insanity?” A trace of shaving lotion trailed along his right jowl and lines were etched on his face despite smelling of a bracing tonic.

“Good morning, Kevin,” John said with a smile. “Thee appears freshly shorn.”

“I've been keeping some long hours and have an appointment with the judge before noon. Wouldn't do to look a mess. And my
long-suffering
wife appreciates a smooth cheek, as well.” He grinned. “Now, what are the town's most important Quakers discussing?”

“What will thee talk with the judge about?” I asked. “Is it to free Ephraim Pickard?” I hoped so, and also hoped to avoid telling him my fears about Nell. If they were groundless, there was no point in her being accused of something she didn't do. If she was guilty, it was a thought too hard to bear. For now. I wasn't concerned about being thought too curious, as Kevin was accustomed by now to my questioning him.

“He's concerned about the safety of our town. But, no, Mr. Pickard remains safely locked up where he'll not harm anyone else.” Kevin patted his robust stomach in satisfaction.

“What about Minnie's killer? Has thy investigation led thee anywhere yet?” I watched him. “At least thee knows it wasn't Ephraim this time.”

He met my eyes. “We're following up every lead, Miss Carroll.”

“Minnie's neighbor Therese said a woman came to call that afternoon,” I said. “Has thee discovered her identity? She could be the killer.”

“You leave the detecting to us, now.” Kevin's voice was stern. He set his fists on his hips, regarding me. “I'm serious. I don't want you putting yourself in danger's way. A killer runs loose in our town and my department has its hands full. The last thing we need is common citizens trying to help and getting hurt, instead.”

“No one wants that, Kevin,” John chimed in, glancing from Kevin to me and back.

I raised my chin. “Thee did ask me to keep my eyes and ears open, Kevin. I can't help my inquisitive personality.”

Kevin rolled his eyes as the bell on the Congregational Church next to us tolled eleven times. “Try,” he called over his shoulder, hurrying down the street.

Having parted ways with John, I parked my cycle outside Patience Henderson's home ten minutes later, my mind awhirl. I longed to return to a life consisting of the simple interactions of midwife and client. Explaining the age-old process of gestation, labor, and birth. Helping babies into the world. Assisting the natural union of mother and child at the breast. All this commotion and mystery surrounding violent death wasn't to my liking, despite my strong Quaker need to see justice done, which led to my curiosity about who had killed and why.

I set my foot on the first
sun-splashed
step of the outside staircase and rubbed my
still-sore
knee. I paused and smiled at the distinctive
whistled notes of the cardinal—
wheet, wheet,
due-due
-
due-due
-
due-due
—its song such a treat for the ears in early spring. Over it I heard a door slapping open. Jotham stood on the landing outside Patience's flat with a
blanket-wrapped
Billy in his arms. All his attention on the baby, he rocked Billy and cooed at him. I watched in silence.

“
Bye-bye
baby Billy, father's gone
a-hunting
, mother's gone a-
milking …” He broke off his version of the familiar nursery rhyme, his voice quavering. He took a deep breath, then started anew, stroking the baby's cheek with each rhythmic phrase.

“
Bye-bye
baby Billy, father's gone a killing, mother's gone
a-dying
, uncle's
gone-a
hunting, to find some true justice, to wrap the baby Billy in.”

Billy let out a soft cry, and Jotham shifted him to rest on his shoulder, patting the baby's back. As he did, he caught sight of me. The tender smile vanished. He opened his mouth as if to shout at me, glanced at his nephew, and shut it again.

“I've come to check on Billy's health.” I smiled, hoping to hide my nerves. Would he use his brass knuckles on me? No time like the present to find out. I continued up the steps until I shared the landing with them.

Jotham held Billy tight against his chest. “You're not taking him from me.” He took a step toward the stairs.

I moved to block him. “Of course not. Thee is his uncle, his blood relative.” I stood in place. He'd have to push me down the flight of stairs before he'd get by. “But thee isn't able to provide him the nourishment he needs. Only Patience can.” I saw movement behind Jotham. Patience appeared in the open doorway, alarm painted on her face.

“I told him not to take the baby outside,” Patience said, her voice trembling. “I went into the kitchen for a moment and when I came back, he was gone.” She stretched her arms toward Billy. When Jotham turned his back, she dropped them and stared at me. “Rose, do something.”

“Jotham, Billy needs Patience's milk.” I kept my tone low and calm despite the agitation I felt. “If thee takes him, he'll sicken and likely die. Thee can visit him here whenever thee likes. Isn't that right, Patience?”

Eyes wide, she nodded. She swallowed. “Of course.” The tone of her voice now matched mine.

Jotham faced us again as Billy set to wailing. Jotham kept patting his back, but the baby was inconsolable. I had seen this effect before. Billy already recognized the smell of Patience's milk, and possibly also the sound of her voice, even though he'd been with her less than a day. She was the only person he wanted.

Jotham, with his brow drawn in and his eyes dragged down, relinquished the baby to Patience. Patience drew Billy into her arms and hurried back into the house, with a worried glance behind her before she shut the door. The lock clicked.

“Let me pass now, will you?” Jotham's sad expression changed to a scowl, like a thunderstorm overtaking a gentle rain.

“Thee will be Billy's uncle his whole life,” I ventured. “Please let him thrive now under Patience's care so thee can throw a ball with him in a few years' time.”

He stomped down the stairs. “I will. For now.”

I watched him go. The cardinal began his song again, but all I heard was
father's gone
a-killing
, u
ncle's gone
a-hunting
, to find some true justice
. I shuddered at the meaning of those words.