Читать книгу Thaddeus Lewis Mysteries 3-Book Bundle - Janet Kellough - Страница 12

Lewis badly wanted to confirm the details with the local doctor in case Varney had somehow got them wrong, but he knew he really should see Minta first. Her parents lived in a nicely built frame house on the outskirts of Picton, the front dooryard neatly fenced and planted with laylock and virgin’s bower. An older woman answered the door, and when Lewis announced who he was, she showed him to the downstairs room where Minta lay, her new infant by her side. Her eyes were red from crying, but it was obvious that the new little boy was claiming most of her attention. Lewis wasn’t sure if her weeping had been for Rachel, or was just part of that peculiar storm of emotion that often follows childbirth.

“Will you christen him, when the time comes?” she asked.

“I would be delighted,” he said. “But what will your husband think of that?”

“He’ll do as I say.”

Again this firm authority masked by meekness. A woman produced a child and, particularly if it was a male, assumed an aura of power, as if reproduction had given them sovereignty. He had been told that Seth was a brute, and that Minta had been having a thin time of it, but that may just have been a reflection of the difficulties she was having carrying the child, or the unfortunate look that Seth had. He always seemed so burly beside his petite wife, and had a very dark complexion. His habitual glower also didn’t help his appearance any. But Lewis now began to get a glimpse of the true dynamics of this marriage; he had seen evidence of it when Minta had stepped forward in the churchyard, and now she wore a queenly aura that she didn’t bother to hide.

“We’d like you to preach at Rachel’s funeral, as well,” Minta said.

He should have been prepared for the request. He was, after all, a minister first and foremost. And how could he refuse? How could he explain that it was far too soon for him to see another chestnut-haired girl laid to rest? He must pull himself together; he was the preacher and it was his duty to be the comforter, not the one to give in to the emotion of the occasion.

He nodded. “Of course I will. Have you decided a name yet?”

She smiled. “Henry, after my father, and George, after Seth’s. Henry George Jessup. Now, don’t you think that a fine name?”

“It is indeed. The finest of names. When exactly was Henry George born?”

“Saturday night. Seth thought it time to bring me here Saturday morning, and he stayed until the baby was born, in spite of the fact that the midwife kept trying to shoo him out of the room. He was a great comfort to me, you know, and I realize that most husbands aren’t. It’s too much for them, as a rule.”

Lewis felt a twinge of guilt when he thought back and realized that he hadn’t even been home for most of Betsy’s lying-ins, never mind in the same room.

“And he found Rachel when?”

“On Sunday night. At least that’s when he came back and told us something awful had happened.” Her eyes welled up with tears. “Poor Rachel. All the time I was cooing over my child, she was lying alone and dead in her bed.”

“Minta,” he said gently. “Do you know if she repented her sins before she passed on?”

“I don’t know. We didn’t ever talk about it much. But … I think so. Oh, I hope so.” The tears began to spill down her face now. “It’s not as if she would have many of them, would she? She was so young. She didn’t have much time to sin.”

He knew he should have pointed out that it didn’t work quite that way, but he felt reluctant to add to Minta’s burden. The baby began to fuss and he deemed it time to leave.

“Thank you,” she said as he left.

“Thank you for coming,” her mother echoed, but she was tight-lipped when she said it.

Dr. Gordon was a brusque, busy man and was just climbing into his buggy when Lewis caught up with him.

“Whatever you want, make it quick,” he said. “Joe Blezard has chopped off half his foot with an axe and I need to go and see if I can do anything about the half that’s left.”

“I just wondered if I might ask a few questions about Rachel Jessup.”

The doctor’s brow furrowed as he struggled to recall the name. “Oh, yes, the girl in Demorestville. Strange case, but then most of them are.”

Lewis grappled with how to ask the next question gracefully, but there didn’t seem to be any way to do it, so he gave up and asked straight out. Doctors weren’t the sort of people who could be shocked. They saw too much.

“Do you think she was strangled? I heard there were marks on her neck.”

Gordon looked at him sternly. “The blessed grapevine — the gossips know more of the details than I do. Yes, there were strange marks on her neck, and yes, she strangled, but whether from the hand of man or the hand of nature, I have no way to judge. Her skirts were thrown up, but there was no evidence of any interference that way, and they could have become disarranged if she’d had some sort of fit. The only other thing of note was an open book in her lap.”

Varney had had the details right after all. “Did you happen to find a small pin anywhere on her person?”

He had the doctor’s full attention for the first time now. “Yes, there was one in the book. How did you know that?”

“There didn’t happen to be writing on the head of it, was there? It would have been very tiny and hard to see.”

“As far as I’m aware it was just a regular pin, like she might have used for making a dress. In fact, I assumed she had been sewing and had tucked it into the page, you know the way women do, so she wouldn’t lose it. But to tell you the truth, I didn’t really look at it closely. There was no cause to.”

“Just one other quick question and then I’ll let you be on your way. I’ve heard that it was the Book of Proverbs that she had. You don’t happen to recall what chapter it was open to?”

“No, not off-hand. But the pin was left to mark the place, so it would be easy enough to find out. Either the Constable took it for evidence, or the family still has it. But tell me, how do you know about it?”

“I just heard a rumour, that’s all, and I wondered if it were true. And now, I’d best get out of your way. I hope Mr. Blezard hasn’t lost too much of his foot.”

The doctor continued to look at him suspiciously for a moment, then, remembering his urgent business, he galloped away.

Constable Woodcock was typical of his ilk, appointed to his position for a term or two as a reward for political loyalty. Although the job was considered a mark of favour, many found it irksome, and in some jurisdictions it was hard to find anyone who would agree to take it on. Local constables dealt mostly with tavern licensing and neighbours feuding over the control of livestock. There was more money to be made elsewhere for a man with ambition, and the irregular hours and the enmity of those who felt wronged by officialdom made policemen unpopular figures. Woodcock was a genial man, and well-meaning, but his pay as a constable was only a supplement to his living as a farmer. Lewis found him herding his cows into the barn for their afternoon milking.

“Preacher.” He nodded. “What can I do for you?”

“I wanted to talk to you about Rachel Jessup. She had spoken to me on a few occasions about joining my church and I was most taken aback to learn that she’s died. I’ve heard only a few of the details. What exactly happened?”

He furrowed his brow. “Well, I’m not sure that I should be talking about any more details than is general knowledge.”

“Please, it’s not curiosity. The family has asked me to do the funeral, and I’d like to know what I’m dealing with, that’s all.” Lewis sincerely hoped the Lord would forgive him for yet another statement that was not quite true.

Woodcock ruminated for a few moments and then said, “Well, I suppose as a Man of God, you can be trusted with a confidence. I’ll tell you what I know, which isn’t a lot. A man by the name of Seth Jessup, the deceased’s brother, had taken his wife to her parents.” Lewis nodded in encouragement. “He stayed there the weekend, until the babe was born, but was due to come back to work on Monday. When he got home Sunday night, he found his sister lying on the bed, dead.”

“Do you have any idea what happened?”

“There’s to be a Coroner’s inquest on Thursday, but the doctor said he wasn’t sure. She had some strange bruising on her neck. For some reason she had gone to bed fully clothed. She even had her boots on.

Yo, Bossy!”

One cow had broken loose from the herd and was headed toward the road. It took five minutes for Lewis to fully regain the Constable’s attention.

“I heard that she was holding a bible.”

“Nay, not a bible, or at least not in its entirety. It was one chapter of it. Maybe you can shed some light on that. It looked like a gift of some sort, because it had an inscription written on the flyleaf. It was one of those pocket editions, you know, the small ones, with a red cover.”

“I believe she was given that at one of our meetings,” Lewis replied. He didn’t add by whom. He needed time to think about the ramifications of this before he rushed in and implicated anyone.

“She must have been studying on it at the time.” Woodcock’s broad forehead wrinkled up in perplexity. “It was the strangest thing, though. She wasn’t exactly holding it. It had fallen open in her lap, I guess, so it was, you know …” he reddened, “down between her legs like.”

“Was she … interfered with in any way?” He already knew the answer was no, the doctor had told him that, but he was curious as to what theory, if any, the Constable might hold.

“No, no, nothing like that. Just her petticoats flung up and the book lying open. Oh, and the marks on her neck.”

“Has the book been retained as evidence?”

He looked surprised at the question. “Well, no. There was no reason to, was there? What would that have to do with anything?”

“Do you know what happened to it?”

“I expect it’s still there in the house. You’d have to ask the family, wouldn’t you?”

“Thank you for your time, Constable. You’ve been most helpful.” He wasn’t sure the man heard him, for Bossy had broken away again and he left Woodcock in hot pursuit of her.