A Simple Shaker Murder (26 page)

She walked a little too fast toward the barn door and caught her left foot on the edge of a rut in the hard dirt floor. Once she'd righted herself and waited for her knee to calm down, she noticed the ruts ran deep from the side of the barn to a spot near the middle, in full view of the door. Puzzled, she called the brother away from his work and asked what might have caused the gouges.

“Sorry we haven't had a chance to fill those in,” he said.
“We noticed them, too. Looked like they might've come from a wooden box that was stored over against the wall there, but none of us remembers moving it, and it's not something we'd forget easy.”

Rose looked above her head at the rafters. A person could certainly hang himself—or someone else—from those rafters, she thought, but why here? And if here, why move the body and hang it in the orchard? Her head was beginning to spin again.

“Rose?” Charlotte peeked inside the barn door. “I'm so glad I found you. The children are having a play break, so I thought I'd seek you out. Agatha said you might be here.”

Charlotte seemed calm, but Rose's stomach tightened. Something wasn't right.

“I was just wondering,” Charlotte said, “if you were planning to bring Mairin in for the lessons this morning—the ones to make up for Tuesday, do you remember?”

Rose stared at her, hoping she wasn't hearing correctly.

“Rose?” Charlotte's eyes widened.

“I brought her this morning,” Rose said, her voice husky with fear. “We were just a bit late, so I sent her in the back way. I watched her close the back door behind her.”

“She never made it to the classroom,” Charlotte said.

M
AIRIN HAD NOT SOUGHT COMFORT EITHER IN
A
GATHA
'
S RETIRING
room or in Rose's. From the Ministry House, Rose called all the other buildings and managed to catch everyone just before they left for the noon meal. No one had seen the little girl. The Believers promised to watch for her, while the New-Owenites in the South Family Dwelling House showed no surprise and no concern.

“Sure, we'll keep an eye out,” Gilbert had said, too casually, “but she does this all the time. Just give her a few hours or a day, and she'll be back. She always is. She takes it into her head to disappear sometimes, and we have no idea why.”

Rose called the Sheriff's Office, hoping to get Grady, but she was disappointed to hear Sheriff Brock's impatient voice.

“Well, what is it now? Y'all come up with another body out there?”

Rose told him about Mairin's disappearance.

“The kid makes a habit of disappearing, doesn't she?”

“Yea, but—”

“I don't have time or near enough men to go off looking for a runaway, especially when she isn't even one of ours.” Brock slammed the phone down before she could ask for Grady. Not that it mattered; Brock would have said Grady was out, anyway.

Rose was on her own. Her distrust was running high, and so was her fear. She decided to do a thorough search, with or
without help. It was the perfect time to search the South Family Dwelling House, with everyone in the communal dining room. If anyone was still in the dwelling house, Rose didn't care; she intended to search every corner of that building, and she wasn't about to let anyone stop her.

The wind cut through the village with a warning of winter, and Rose was glad she'd remembered to grab her long cloak as she'd rushed out of the Ministry House. Since morning, the air had dipped from crisp to shivery, which meant a cold night—far too cold for a little girl to be outdoors or in some damp basement. Mairin was a bright child; perhaps she had found a cozy corner in a dwelling house to stash herself. Rose tried to fend off the other, more terrifying alternative—that Mairin's disappearance might not have been her own choice.

Perhaps her luck had changed; the South Family Dwelling House seemed empty, though of course all the lights had been left burning. The effort to leave them on cost Rose a stab of pain through her head. She reminded herself that her most important goal was to find Mairin, and lights might help. She began with the closets and all the unoccupied rooms, hoping Mairin had opted for something warmer than the storage rooms downstairs. She took the chance of calling Mairin's name in each room. The child might not answer, but if she had been taken against her will and could still cry out, surely she would do so when she recognized Rose's voice.

Driven by deepening suspicion, Rose also searched the rooms claimed by the New-Owenites. It was possible, after all, that the seven of them were working together. The jumble of conflicting information they tossed at Rose could be a clever ploy to keep her confused while they carried out their real plan. They could keep Mairin in one of their rooms, or move her from room to room, while all lied about it to Rose.

In her previous search of the South Family Dwelling House, Rose had stopped with Earl's room. This time she sped through examinations of the other two men's rooms. Their contents told her nothing. Then she went on to the next room and realized immediately that it must have been Hugh's. Earl
and Celia had said that they'd packed everything and sent it home. They'd told half the truth, anyway. Everything was packed up, but clearly nothing had been sent anywhere.

Time was growing short, but Rose had to check. The crates were probably the same ones the New-Owenites had used to move to North Homage. They had lids but weren't sealed shut. Rose quickly opened several until she came to one that held books and papers. Near the top, she found some notes Hugh had made to himself about the flora and fauna of the area. Hugh, at least, had shown true interest in learning and the natural sciences. Hugh's handwriting was readable, but difficult. She dug further and found a draft of a pamplet about the geology of the area around Bloomington. It was printed, and far from neat. Rose was disappointed. She couldn't be sure, of course, but the writing looked similar to that on the suicide note.
Still
, she thought,
why print a suicide note?
She removed one piece of paper, folded it, and stuffed it in her apron pocket. Without too much concern for neatness, she replaced the rest.

Rose remembered all the cubbyholes in the South Family Dwelling House, or so she thought. She wouldn't put it past Mairin to find some new ones. However, a careful search of the first and second floors revealed nothing except that the New-Owenites seemed to be exploring the building, as well. Furniture was being distributed to the unused rooms, as if North Homage's guests were preparing for guests of their own. They seemed more and more confident that they'd be allowed to stay, even bring in new members, and continue to use the Shakers' resources.

She hurried through the dim kitchen, with a cursory look in the pantry. Despite the nearness of food, the room was too open and too frequently used to provide a safe hiding place. As she headed for the stairs to the storage rooms, she glanced over at the corner where she'd listened through the pipes to the New-Owenites' meeting. The pipes were still there, but not where they should be. The whole system had been disassembled and lay in pieces on the already littered floor. A thick piece of wood leaned against the wall as if someone might be
trying to find a way to block off the pipes. It certainly wasn't the brethren—they would have done a quick and efficient job and not left behind a mess. So the New-Owenites had indeed heard Mairin and her that night. They might not realize that one voice had belonged to her, but they surely knew that Mairin would have been the other.

Rose ran down to the storage rooms, so afraid of what she might find that she ignored the warning pains in her left knee. She scoured every nook and cranny, softly calling Mairin's name. She saw and heard nothing except the occasional skittering of a rodent, probably on its way to or from the kitchen. She was panting now, fighting off tears. She told herself to stop and breathe; she had a lot more of the village to search. She would find Mairin. She wouldn't give up until she did.

“You are overwrought, my dear,” Agatha said. “Have some of my tea. It's peppermint, quite good. Gertrude always brings me an extra cup these days, in case a visitor drops in during the noon meal. Now, tell me what's been happening.”

Rose accepted the tea gratefully and sank into her chair. “You heard that Mairin has disappeared?”

Agatha nodded. “Gertrude told me. I've been praying to Mother Ann to protect the child.”

“No one else seems to be taking it seriously,” Rose said, “even though she disappeared between the schoolroom and the Schoolhouse storage room hours ago, and it's getting colder outside, and . . .”

Agatha reached out and touched Rose's hand. “A prayer wouldn't hurt you right now, either,” she said.

Rose caught her breath and followed Agatha's advice.

‘Tell me, then,” Agatha said, after a few moments of silence, “where have you looked so far?”

She told Agatha of her frantic search through the South Family Dwelling House, including the information she'd gathered. “It'll take days to search the entire village,” Rose said.

“I see we do have a great deal to fear from these people,” Agatha said. She began rocking gently, which usually meant
she was thinking. Rose felt as grateful as a child who has turned her problem over to the all-knowing grown-ups. At the same time, she worried about Agatha's frail health. Agatha hadn't bothered with her white cap, and her pale scalp showed through the thin white hair pulled back into a knot at the nape of her neck. Her small body seemed thinner and more bent every day. But somehow, her soul kept growing, and Rose wondered how much longer it could be contained within her fading body.

Agatha stopped rocking. “Nora,” she said. “I have watched the friendship grow between those two. If Mairin has gone off of her own accord, Nora is the only one who will know where she is likely to hide.”

Rose felt a surge of energy. “Of course! I've been so convinced that the burden was entirely on me that I forgot about Nora. Thank you, my friend. I'll go find her right away. Shall I take your tray back to the kitchen? Gertrude must be exhausted, what with the extra mouths to feed and delivering meals.”

“Oh, Gertrude didn't bring my noon meal,” Agatha said. “Elsa offered to do so. I was quite pleased that she went out of her way to be of service to a sister.”

“Elsa? Elsa brought your meal to you? Has she ever once done that before?”

“Nay, but I've prayed often that she will turn her heart more completely to our faith.”

If there was a weakness in Agatha's wisdom, Rose realized, it was that she insisted on hoping that people would change for the better, even while she acknowledged all evidence to the contrary. Rose had long ago given up on Elsa, and she had seen no reason to change her view. If Elsa had brought Agatha's meal, it was because Elsa had a purpose.

“Agatha, those drawings of Mairin's—the ones I asked you to look at and keep for me—where did you put them?”

Impossible as it seemed, Agatha's face paled even more. “Oh dear,” she said. “You don't mean . . . I'd left them on the
desk, over there,” she said. “I can't really see that far, you'd better check.”

It took only a glance. “The drawings aren't there,” Rose said, with as much gentleness as she could muster. Agatha couldn't afford another stroke. “I'm sure there was just a mix-up,” she said lightly. “She probably picked them up by mistake. I'll talk to her. You needn't worry.”

“Nay, I sure enough didn't pick up no pictures,” Elsa said, when Rose cornered her in the kitchen. “I don't go around stealing things from folks' rooms. I ain't no thief.”

“I didn't say you were, Elsa. I just wondered if by any chance you picked them up by mistake. Mistakes happen to all of us.”

“I ain't stupid, neither. I know when I'm gettin' accused of stealing, and I don't have to take it. Elder Wilhelm knows I'm a good Shaker, even if nobody else around here does.” Still mumbling, Elsa thrust her hands in the hot soapy water and clattered a sinkful of plates as loudly as she could without breaking them.

Rose would get no admissions out of Elsa, that much was clear. She gave up. It didn't matter anyway; she had a fair idea about what had happened. She was certain that Elsa had indeed taken the drawings, and that she had done so at Wilhelm's request. Perhaps he had told her the drawings were gifts belonging to the whole Society, and Rose had no right to exclusive ownership. She wouldn't be surprised if Wilhelm—or more probably Elsa—had searched Rose's room, found nothing, and chosen Agatha as the next likely keeper of the drawings.

Rose paused to sit in the parlor of the Center Family Dwelling House with her head in her hands. Elsa would do all this only at Wilhelm's bidding. She would never have thought of it herself—which meant that Wilhelm now had all six drawings. With or without Mairin, he would go on with the planned evening worship service, hoping to catch the New-Owenites off guard and convert them easily. She could only pray that
Wilhelm or Elsa did not find Mairin before she did, because they would force her to attend the service. And there would be at least one person in attendance who did not want the information in Mairin's drawings to be brought into the light.