Cradle to Grave (23 page)

“I did,” Rees said. “Thank you.”

Saai nodded incuriously and lay down in the bed. A big man, he soon sprawled across the entire surface. Sighing, Rees sat down in a chair by the window. The heavy curtain of snow falling from the sky produced a curious half-light that made it hard to tell the time of day. Rees thought it could not be past three thirty or four, but he couldn't be sure. After a few more minutes sitting in the cold room listening to Saai's soft grunting, Rees recovered his documents and went downstairs to the common room to study them. The clock in the hall read four thirty.

Rees returned to the bedroom a few hours later. Laying his handkerchief across the grubby pillow, he squeezed in beside his roommate. Physical discomfort held slumber at bay for a long while, but he finally dropped into sleep thinking of Lydia. When he awoke, the Whitney children were on his mind. He thought of them nestling close, their feverish bodies seeking comfort and security. Thoughts of those kids brought him straight to David. Although he still wasn't sure what he could have done differently, after all he had had to support them both, he realized that his regret at abandoning his son to his sister's neglect would haunt him for the remainder of his days.

Rees got out of bed. With a snort, Saai flopped over into the vacated space. Rees put on his boots, collected his valise and his coat, and went downstairs to pay the bill.

*   *   *

By daybreak he had reached the road west with its new thick blanket of snow. The going was very slow, especially since Rees and his buggy were one of the first vehicles on the road. Ares strained between the traces and Rees climbed out several times to help the horse and buggy through a particularly deep or icy spot. Snow melted into his shoes and soaked his stockings and breeches. He revised his estimated time of arrival in Dover Springs to dinnertime, finally pulling into the yard at the Ram's Head past noon. The ostler came out for Ares, and Rees, shivering and hungry, tramped into the tavern.

All conversation ceased and everyone gaped at him in various degrees of shock and disbelief. When Mr. Randall's daughter looked at him with wide eyes, Rees said, “Stew. And coffee, please.” She hesitated but at a gesture from her father disappeared into the kitchen. Rees glanced around him; all of the other diners hastily looked away. Puzzled, Rees turned to Mr. Randall. He gestured to a chair by the fire. The two other occupants quickly abandoned their seats, leaving an empty table behind them. Rees sat down, staring around him in bewilderment. But he forgot the other diners when the girl placed a bowl of steaming stew upon the table.

Rees's proximity to the fire and the hot food quickly warmed him. He was scraping the bottom of his bowl when the front door opened with a bang. “Mr. Rees,” the constable said. The unusual grimness of his voice brought Rees's head up. Cooper paused a few feet away. Four other men, one holding an old musket, one a rifle, and the other a flintlock pistol, stood behind him.

“Yes?” Rees said. “What the…?”

“Where have you been the past two days?”

“In Albany. I wanted to show you.” He began to bend toward his valise but the sudden sound of a trigger's movement froze him in place. Lifting his hands, he turned slowly toward Cooper. A man behind the constable had lifted a rifle to his shoulder and trained the gun upon Rees. “What's the matter?” Rees could barely get the words out past his chattering teeth.

“Silas Tucker was shot and killed yesterday.”

“He was? Are you sure?” Rees struggled to understand what he was hearing. “Do you think I did it?” A quick glance at Cooper's expression told Rees the constable suspected him. “It wasn't me. I was in Albany. I have proof.” He nodded his head to the canvas roll at his feet. “Look in there. You'll see.” His heart thudded in his chest.

Cooper approached the table and bent to retrieve the bundle. With a sharp glance at Rees, the constable untied the straps and extracted the rolled documents. “Where did you get these?”

“I told you. I went to Albany first thing yesterday morning. The clerk copied the originals for me.”

“Where did you stay?”

“At the King's Head, formerly the King's Arms.”

“Hmmm,” Cooper eyed Rees. “You could have shot Silas Tuesday and left Wednesday. He lived close enough to you.”

“I don't know where he lived.”

“His farm connects to the Whitney farm; lies right behind it, in fact.”

“I didn't know that,” Rees said. Cooper's suspicious expression didn't change. “Think, man. I'm not from here. How would I know?”

Although Cooper didn't reply, his expression shifted subtly.

“Besides, first thing Tuesday morning, my wife and I visited Maartje Griffin. Then we drove to Mount Unity. Mrs. Griffin and Elder Herman will confirm we visited them. In fact,” he added with sudden inspiration, “he told me a group of drunken men rode past Mount Unity on Saturday but didn't go in. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?”

In the sudden silence the snapping from the burning logs sounded like a fusillade of shots. One of the posse shifted position and his shoe scraped the wooden floor. Cooper, his cheeks coloring, stared at Rees for a long moment and then almost imperceptibly relaxed.

“All right, I'm listening,” he said, waving the posse back. Rees inhaled what felt like his first breath in several minutes.

“Look at Olive's will. She left the farm to Simon. This is proof.” His words tailed off as he realized that, with Silas Tucker's death, the will ceased to be important in proving Silas had good reason to want Maggie dead. Cooper shot him a sharp glance.

“You thought Silas killed Maggie?”

“Yes. It still makes sense. Silas Tucker wanted that property. But then, who killed him?” Rees paused. “What happened to him?”

“He was shot to death while he sat at his desk. Mr. Baker discovered the body when several of Silas's cows wandered down to his farm and he went up to the farm to complain. Something that's happened regularly,” Cooper added with a wry twist of his lips. “I can't tell you how many complaints I've received from Tom Baker.”

“Where was the body?” Rees asked in confusion. “I thought you said Silas was shot while sitting at his desk.”

“He was. Mr. Baker didn't go in, but he could see the body through the broken window.”

“I need to see Silas's farm,” Rees said. “I must see where the shooter stood and I can't visualize the scene from here.”

Cooper contemplated Rees. “Very well,” he said at last. Something about the set of his shoulders assured Rees that the constable was now willing to offer him a chance to prove his innocence. “Have you been home yet?”

“No,” Rees said. “I stopped here first.”

“Very well. I won't remand you to the sheriff quite yet. But don't leave Dover Springs, especially without speaking to me. And tomorrow I'll escort you to Silas's farm.”

“I agree,” Rees said. Picking up his spoon, he stirred the last drops of stew but found he'd lost his appetite. “I also spoke to Mrs. van Blau about Maggie while I was in Albany.”

“And?”

“She praised the girl. So, I wonder, what happened to change Maggie Whitney into the woman I met?”

Shrugging, Cooper rose to his feet. “I don't know. Maybe the death of her aunt? Grief changes people.” With a gesture to his men, and to their obvious disappointment, he departed. Rees sat for a few minutes longer, but he was fed and warm now, so he paid his bill and followed the constable from the tavern.

An hour later he walked through the cabin door. Lydia greeted him effusively although a worried crease drew her brows together. “The constable came here several times looking for you,” she said. “I told him you had gone to Albany, but he behaved as though he didn't believe me.”

Rees turned his eyes at the children, all staring at him and listening. “I saw him in town,” he said. She bobbed her head to indicate she understood; they would discuss this later. “I see you've been busy.” Although diapers still festooned the fireplace in banners of white, the cottage was clean and the children tidy.

She nodded. “Mr. Baker also came to the door, looking for Simon. I said he would go back to work tomorrow.” Her mouth curled. “I didn't want to permit it but Simon insisted. He wants to go back to work. He is very conscious of his responsibilities.”

Rees turned to the boy and searched his face carefully. The color had returned to Simon's cheeks, and when he saw Rees looking at him he nodded emphatically.

“Very well,” Rees said to him. “But if you tire, I want you to come home immediately.”

“I promise,” Simon said. Rees doubted he could trust that assurance and decided to visit the Baker farm early to fetch the boy home.

*   *   *

He waited until the children's noisy scuffling in bed faded before sitting down by the fire with Lydia, and then he kept his voice low. “Silas Tucker is dead, murdered.”

“Murdered…” Lydia's repetition of the ugly word faded into a gasp. “The constable didn't tell me.” She dropped the mending into her lap.

“No, I daresay he wouldn't.”

As Lydia's initial shock diminished, she said, “Revenge? Or was Silas murdered by the same man who killed Maggie?”

Rees spread his hands to express his uncertainty. “Tomorrow I will visit Silas's house. Maybe then…”

“How was he…?”

“Shot.”

Lydia hesitated, unconsciously kneading the dress she held in her lap. One of Judah's, Rees thought. That child was so hard on his clothes.

“I think we need to consider the possibility that one of the fathers of these children murdered Maggie,” she said.

“I'm ahead of you,” Rees said. An old and common story: a pretty girl, a man, and the inevitable result. “But her youngest is two. If she were pressing someone to marry her or trying to blackmail him, wouldn't he have killed her before this?”

“She needed money for the taxes, remember? What if she applied to him for money and threatened him with exposure?”

“That means questioning every man in the entire village,” Rees objected, his voice rising with frustration.

“No. She was confined to this farm most of the time with few opportunities to escape. What men did she see? Whom did she speak to?”

“Reverend Vermette,” Rees said, recalling his name on Olive Tucker's will. “He was a regular visitor when Maggie's aunt was ill.”

“Yes, he may be a possibility. But he's single and his betrothal to Miss Pike is recent. Reverend Vermette was available to wed Maggie. But he didn't.” Lydia paused and then added with unwilling sympathy, “She would have wanted to marry him. People aren't kind to women with illegitimate children.” Rees, who knew Lydia was thinking of her previous husband and the baby she'd borne and lost, reached across the table and took her work-worn hand in his. “I think the man who murdered her is married.”

“Mr. Baker?” Rees said, recalling Mrs. Baker's barely disguised jealousy.

“Constable Cooper,” Lydia said. “He visited frequently. I know Jerusha said her mother didn't care for him much, but there could be many reasons for that.”

Rees sighed. “I don't relish the chore of tracking down the father of every one of these children.”

“Well, not Jerusha or Joseph,” Lydia said.

“We can't be certain Roger Whitney fathered Jerusha,” Rees pointed out, remembering the difference between the wedding date and Jerusha's birthday. “And we know Simon's father is in Boston.”

“I doubt he would make the journey to Dover Springs to murder Maggie,” Lydia said.

“Especially since Simon is almost seven,” Rees agreed.

“We should look for Judah's father,” Lydia said, a yawn breaking the words apart. Rees looked at the smudges of exhaustion under her eyes.

“Don't worry about it now,” he said, giving her hand a shake. “Time for bed. These children are wearing you out.”

“I have been more tired than usual of late,” she admitted, loosening her hair. Rees helped her plait the red mass and change into her nightgown. He kissed her goodnight, and then the kisses became more urgent, and soon neither of them was thinking about the murder of Maggie Whitney at all.

Chapter Twenty

By the time the constable arrived the following morning to accompany Rees to Silas's farm, the sun had been up for hours and Rees had worn a path to the cottage window looking for him. Cooper rode over on his gelding. But Rees had no saddle and so was forced to hitch Ares to the buggy so he could follow the constable. As he fell in behind Cooper, Rees revisited his conversation with Lydia from the night before. He began wondering about Cooper and Maggie. But the constable seemed untroubled by any secret knowledge, and finally Rees put his suspicions aside.

Cooper turned just past the Baker farm onto an infrequently traveled lane. Although Rees steered his vehicle down the center of the road, where horses had tramped down the snow somewhat, the deep snow caught at the buggy wheels and held it. The journey became a series of sudden stops and lurches forward, and by the time they turned onto a drive, both Rees and Ares were tired. Steam streamed off the horse's neck into the cold air. When they stopped some distance from the house, Rees threw a blanket over the animal to protect him. Cooper tied his horse up and together the two men walked toward the house.

It was a fine two-story with many windows. Shutters covered all of them on the second floor, but even from the line of trees across the yard where they'd tied up the horses, Rees could see the broken window. On the first floor, it lay to the left of the front door. Before crossing the twenty feet of open ground, he paused and looked around him. Many horses and men had tramped through here, their prints resulting in a confusion of churned snow. Rees would not be able to identify one set from another. He turned and walked into the trees, finding a scattering of black powder where the murderer had loaded his gun. Again, no help. Rees guessed every man hereabouts owned either a musket or a rifle or both. The shooter was an accurate shot, but again, that was a skill that would be possessed by many.