Читать книгу Thaddeus Lewis Mysteries 5-Book Bundle - Janet Kellough - Страница 43

The brick house in Belleville was shuttered and empty when they rode past. He knew that the Simms family had removed themselves to Kingston after selling off a great number of their belongings, for Sally, the girl who had taken up with Spicer, reported it all in great detail.

“They went without giving me the last of my wages,” she said. “I was tempted to set the law on them, but they were such a sorry looking lot that I didn’t have the heart.”

Lewis felt that Sally was the perfect match for Spicer. She was rough in speech and manner, but a hard worker and a generous soul. She teased him mercilessly in a good-natured way, and Morgan would sputter and protest until he realized that she was joking with him, and for a time his too-serious demeanour would lift a little.

She had already found another position with a family that needed help with their heavy tasks — the laundry and the scrubbing — and the woman she worked for was instructing her in the kitchen. It was obvious that Morgan adored Sally, and she him, and she confided to Lewis that they were just waiting until he received his appointment and she had saved a little more money, and then they would be asking him to officiate at their marriage ceremony. Lewis had no doubt that this would take place in the not-too-distant future. Spicer had proved himself, and with a little more instruction, Lewis would have no hesitation in recommending him to be received on trial.

Even though the sun was barely above the horizon in the morning sky, there was already a crowd gathered around the jail. Hangings were popular affairs, and like most, this one would be held in the open air to afford onlookers an excellent view. The yard had already been staked out, blankets were spread, and chairs had been brought in. Whole families had been hunkered down in these spots since the previous evening, and small children ran back and forth while their parents anchored the seats. It was a field day for merchants of all descriptions — food and beverage were being hawked, mementos of the occasion had been hastily manufactured and were offered for sale, small bibles and books were in great demand. Lewis thought wryly of the Caddicks’ pins. It was a shame they were no longer making them. They would have done a brisk business on a day such as this.

He left his horse with Spicer and shouldered his way through the crowd. Three constables were stationed at the door to the jail, turning away those attempting to get inside. Some had good reason to demand admittance — there were several newspapers represented — but most were simply the morbidly curious or the seekers of notoriety who wanted to claim a special connection with the hanged man that they could parlay into a fleeting fame or, far more likely, a few drinks at the tavern.

One of the constables recognized Lewis. “Are you here to offer comfort, Preacher?” he asked.

Lewis nodded. There was no reason to add that the comfort would be his own, not Simms’s. The constable opened the door and let him slip through, to the roaring disapproval of the mob gathered outside.

Simms seemed to be himself, the affable peddler, again, and quite aware of what was about to happen. It was hard to believe that this calm, pleasant-looking man was a convicted murderer. He looked up as Lewis entered.

“Lewis. Good of you to come. Thank you.”

“Are you prepared for this, Isaac?”

“Yes. There’s been a minister — Anglican, of course — and I’ve received as much comfort as I can expect to get from that quarter. To tell the truth, I just want it over with. All of it. I want it ended.”

“This is only the first of the accountings you’ll have to make, I’m afraid.”

Simms nodded. “I know. I’ll speak before they hoist me. That’s a good first step, I think.” He turned away and faced the light from the small window set high in the wall of the cell. “There were five of them, you know, all told. I’m only being hanged for the one, but I feel I should confess to the others. It may bring some small comfort to the families.”

“It will. For one of them was my daughter.”

Simms spun around. “Your daughter?!” He closed his eyes, and began to shake again, just slightly. “Oh, my God, I should have known. I wondered why you were so determined, why you seemed to dog me. Everyone else was content to count them natural deaths, or brush them aside, but you wouldn’t let go. But for you, I’d have gone on killing forever. Why did you take so long to stop me?”

In spite of the shaking, his voice had become flat and toneless, a fact that Lewis found more chilling than if he had wept or shouted as he had on previous occasions. “I didn’t mark them out deliberately, you know. They just happened to be there. Which one was your daughter?”

“The first, I believe. On the eve of the rebellion.”

Simms nodded. “Everywhere I went that night there were men on the move, with weapons in their hands, moving like ghosts through the woods and down the back roads. Mackenzie had called down the smell of blood, and men were answering to it. I tried to run from it, go in the opposite direction, get away from it — yet they kept passing me, marching by on the way to their doom. I ran as far as I could. Then I saw her — Esther. She was standing in front of a cabin by a dooryard well, her chestnut hair spilling down her back. It took my breath away; I thought my heart had stopped, for I never expected to see her there. And I saw my chance. A chance to end it. I knew that death would soak the ground that night, and who would notice but one more?”

“No, not Esther. Sarah.”

But Simms had ceased to hear him.

“And the next thing I knew,” he went on, “she was dead beneath my hands. I don’t recollect leaving the little Book of Proverbs, but I must have, for my stock was short by one the next day. I know I did something with the pin, for it seemed as though she needed a prayer to go with her.

Lewis grabbed one of the iron bars of the cell to steady himself, for surely he would swoon to the floor if he didn’t. He wanted to scream for Simms to stop talking, stop telling him what had happened to Sarah. But he couldn’t, for he needed to know.

“And then I noticed the child.”

His mind reeled with the words — Martha! He had forgotten that Martha was there that night. How could he have forgotten little Martha lying there in her cradle while a madman leered above her?

“I didn’t know where she had come from. I thought she was Esther’s, and mine as well — living proof of our sin. I didn’t know what I should do next. I stood there and looked at her for the longest time. She had chestnut hair, like her mother. And just for a moment I thought it might be kinder to let her go, too — to stop her before she grew old enough to stand testament to our wickedness. I almost did it, Lewis, I almost took the babe as well.”

The words were cracked and dusty when they finally came out. “What stopped you?”

“She began to cry. Only it wasn’t a cry, it was a terrible wail, and it filled the cabin. It filled my ears, it filled my mind, and the child wouldn’t stop. I even shook her a few times, but that only made her cry the harder. And then I began to hear what she was wailing, and it was accusation, she was telling the world that I was a murderer and a sinner. And then my brain was full of that: ‘Murder, sin, murder, sin,’ over and over again until I could stand it no more. And so I turned and ran, just to get away from those words.”

Martha, who made more noise than all the boys put together, and thank the Lord for it, Lewis thought, for it had saved her life. His chest pained him from the idea of it. How close she had been.

“I rode hard to get away from those cries,” Simms said. “I rode far. And then, when I could no longer hear them, when they could no longer rail against me, I began to feel better.” He looked at Lewis squarely for the first time. “In fact, I began to feel fine, better than I had in many months. I had taken steps to end my wickedness, and I could look forward to leaving my sin behind. I didn’t know then that more would be necessary, that the blood call would come again, and again I would be compelled to answer it. Then, after a time, it got so that I didn’t need to hear the call. I didn’t need the scent of death to spur me on. I had only to ride into a clearing or up to a cabin and there would be Esther — ‘a proud look, a lying tongue, a heart that deviseth wicked imaginations.’ And again I would slay her. I killed time and time again and still she would rise up from hell reborn and I would be compelled to send her back. You can see why I was forced to do it, can’t you, Lewis? ‘For can a man take fire in his bosom and his clothes not be burned?’”

Lewis had to shake his head to clear his thoughts, for Simms’s voice was mesmerizing in its monotony. When he spoke, it was harshly, as a weapon against the strange seduction of the peddler’s account. “All this because you couldn’t leave your sister alone.”

Simms face twisted in disgust. “It was she who wouldn’t leave me, Lewis. If she had been other than what she is, none of this would have happened.”

“No,” Lewis said. “I’m sorry, that is not reason enough, Isaac. There were two of you in this. It would only have taken one to stop it.”

“You just don’t understand, do you?” Simms’s words came out in an angry hiss. “You still don’t see what she is. How she used me. How she would torment me. I had no control over it. I couldn’t stop her.”

“Because you didn’t want to.”

Surprisingly, Lewis suddenly felt a crushing pity for the man — about to answer to his Maker and still unable to admit accountability for his sin.

“You were so stupid.” Simms said with contempt. “You should have known it was me. Who else would want to murder her so many times? I’d watch you afterward, to see if you knew, and sometimes I thought you did, but still it took you so long to fit all the pieces together, didn’t it? You could have stopped me if you’d been quicker. You could have, but you wouldn’t.”

And then, suddenly, suspicion crossed his face. He looked at Lewis narrowly. “Were you in it together, you and Esther? Did you conspire with her? Did you want her, too? She used you, too, didn’t she? She’d make me kill her and then you’d raise her from the dead so I’d have to kill again.”

“Yes, I was stupid,” Lewis said. “And yes, it took me far too long to find you. But, believe me, if I had known sooner, I’d have stopped you. I’d have stopped you whatever way I could. As much as your first sin is great, your second is the greater because it carries no real remorse. You’d do well to think on that, Isaac, in the little time you have left.”

“Go. Leave me. Take your infernal sanctimony and get out.” Simms turned again to the window.

“There’s something very important I need to say before they come and take you,” Lewis said. “I’m not leaving until I say it. Listen to me. Look at me.” He drew on every ounce of authority he had within him to command the man to turn around. “Look at me!”

Simms looked around, his face stony.

“I forgive you, Isaac. Not for the sake of your soul, but for mine.”