Cradle to Grave (37 page)

“She killed my baby and tried to pay me for it,” Maartje said, exhibiting no guilt or remorse for accusing Maggie of theft. “As though that would make it right.”

“So, Maggie approached those individuals she thought might give her a few pennies towards the taxes. Mr. Cooper—he was generous.” Rees looked over and nodded at the constable. “Reverend Vermette.”

“But I had none to give her.”

Rees nodded, hearing exactly what he expected. “But you were affianced to someone who did.” He looked at Miss Pike. “You, Miss Pike.”

Her cheeks flushed red and then the blood drained away, leaving her face the white of porcelain. “Yes, she called upon me. I gave her a tuppence. And then I sent her away.” Mutters rumbled through the assemblage. Miss Pike straightened and lifted her chin in defiance.

“Hmm. And so she applied finally to Mr. Gray.” Rees paused and then, raising his voice, said harshly, “Don't lie, Mr. Gray. Your own niece overheard you and told my wife. Unless Maartje is lying, but I think in this case she is not. And when Maggie applied to you, she sealed her death warrant.”

“Yes, she came to me,” Mr. Gray admitted, his eyes lowered and his voice trembling. “But I didn't kill her.”

“Elias had nothing to do with this,” said Owen Randall, appalled.

“What most of you don't know,” Rees said, “is that Silas suspected Caleb Griffin of murdering Maggie. Suspected it and thought he could use his knowledge for gain. And he had proof.” He pulled the small Bible from his pocket and held it up. Since he fixed his gaze upon Miss Pike he could see the fear that froze her expression. Rees opened the Bible and read the inscription: “To M, the companion of my soul. Abner Vermette.”

“I never … I didn't…” The Reverend gasped as he tried to find words.

“I know.” Rees kept his eyes fixed upon Vermette's fiancée. “Miss Pike is the one who gave away this small Bible. Didn't you, Miss Pike?”

“I gave out many copies, all with the same inscription. Reverend Vermette signed them but yes, I wrote the dedications. I gave that Bible to the Griffins; the M refers to Maartje.” She directed a shocked look at Maartje.

“Yes,” Rees said. “You and Maartje were united by your dislike of Maggie Whitney.”

Maartje stared at him. “Are you mad? I'm not strong enough to subdue Maggie. And I was pregnant.”

“I do not doubt you are strong enough,” Rees said. “This is what I think happened. Maggie decided to apply to Mr. Gray a second time for the money necessary to pay her taxes. But you met her at the door and refused her entry to his house. In the scuffle her cloak came off. Your husband, who had come to fetch you, struck her. Probably more than once. When she was unconscious, he took her to Mr. Gray's grave and threw her in. He used this Bible to read a passage over her. Then he sang a hymn while that poor young woman, who could still have been saved, lay unconscious on the ground. But you knew that. You knew he had killed her. And you lied over and over to protect him. You lied about seeing Mouse near the graveyard. You knew Reverend Vermette was taking Maggie upstairs to the bedroom in your uncle's house but told me he was taking her to the log meetinghouse. You knew Maggie's cloak could tie her to Mr. Gray and to you and your husband, so you smuggled it home. You wore it right in front of me, wore it home and hid it so no one would find it.” Rees nodded at the constable. He pulled a bundle from under his seat, a bundle that unfolded into Maggie's old blue cloak with the three-cornered tear in the hem.

“Tucked into the baby's cradle,” Cooper said.

“Stop it, Mr. Rees,” commanded Mr. Gray, staring at the cloak in horror. “Stop it.” Tears filled his eyes and ran down his lined cheeks.

“Did you keep silent because of your baby's death?” Mrs. Baker asked, willing to extend compassion. “Was that it?”

“Or because you suspected your husband of sleeping with Maggie?” Cooper asked.

“He would never do that, never,” Maartje cried. Her son woke with a start and began to wail. She picked him up and nestled him close, staring over his downy dark head.

“I think you colluded in Maggie's murder simply for financial gain,” Rees said. “Mr. Randall told me your uncle Elias Gray gave you the money for your farm. And you told me how much you resented the gift of land your uncle had given to Reverend Vermette for his church. You did not want to share your uncle's estate.”

“I won't stay here and listen to this,” Maartje said, gathering up the child to her breast. “It's nothing but vile slander.” Clutching the baby to her, she ran from the meetinghouse. Her sobbing began before she reached the door.

“Was such cruelty necessary, Mr. Rees?” Mrs. Baker asked. “Her husband is revealed as the murderer, not her. And she is now a widow with young children.”

Rees turned his gaze to her and under his stern frown she flinched. “Cruel? You call me cruel? She blamed Maggie for all that was wrong in her life. She could have prevented this tragedy at almost any point, but she chose not to.” He looked at Vermette. “She knew about your association with Maggie, but did not say or do anything to prevent it. And that, despite her friendship with Miss Pike.” He glanced at the woman. All her confidence had fled and she was weeping quietly. “Maartje knew her husband was guilty of murder, twice over, and said nothing.” He shook his head. “I'm not cruel. She was. And now she will experience life as Maggie did.” His prediction was so cold and so accurate it silenced everyone.

“But that doesn't explain why Caleb murdered Maggie,” Cooper objected after a lengthy quiet. “Maggie had no claim on Mr. Gray. In fact, if I hadn't seen Caleb blow the head off the scarecrow I wouldn't believe it now. Why did he?”

“The answer lies in Maggie's past.”

Mr. Randall stirred and shook his head. “No, Mr. Rees. This isn't necessary.”

“Protecting the reputations of some of the men in this town put Maggie and her children under the constant threat of warning out and ultimately cost her her life. Yes, I think this is necessary.” He stared at both Mr. Randall and Mr. Gray, not troubling to hide his contempt.

“I don't understand,” Mr. Gray said. He looked around in confusion. “I don't understand any of this.” In his bewilderment he looked vulnerable and very frail.

“What are we talking about?” Vermette asked. “What does that have to do with Maggie?”

“Most of the people in this town believe Maggie is the child of Olive Tucker's sister.”

“Mr. Rees.” Mr. Randall stood up, frowning. “What are you trying to accomplish?”

“Would you care to explain?” Rees turned his gaze upon the old man. Anger made his lips tremble and he pressed them together.

Mr. Randall sat down again.

“No? Then I will continue and, unless I am corrected, will assume I know the truth.” Rees paused, but no one said anything. “Because Olive's sister was not a resident of Dover Springs, Maggie and her children were not considered residents either.” Now Rees stared at the selectmen. “They lived under the constant threat of being warned out, sent to the town where her mother or her father came from. If she had applied for Poor Relief or could not pay her taxes, the council would have expelled her. Is that not true, Mr. Demming?”

Although none of the selectmen spoke, several members of the audience nodded.

“Well, I'm going to tell you who Maggie's mother and father were.”

Mr. Randall shifted in his seat, rapping his cane upon the wooden bench. Rees looked at him, but the elderly man folded his lips together, refusing to speak.

“In 1771, the colonies were preparing for war. British soldiers were everywhere. Although I did not grow up here in Dover Springs, I remember that time. Local arms of the Sons of Liberty destroyed the properties and lives of the Loyalists. The Tories reacted in kind. And of course, some people attempted to remain on good terms with both sides. After all, no one knew who would win.” Rees hesitated. He was moving into guesswork now.

“What does this have to do with anything?” one of the selectmen snapped.

“Phineas Tucker was ill, very ill, with the disease that would kill him a few years later. Olive was struggling. She had young children and a dying husband. Some of her husband's friends offered what help they could, but it wasn't enough. Phineas was in constant pain and required opium for relief. An expensive medicine.”

“We all know this,” Mr. Gray said.

“I suspect Olive began trading with the British to survive. I found a list of livestock and their prices in her family Bible.”

“She would never do that!” Mr. Gray cried.

“She was desperate and the troops needed to eat. So she sold whatever she could to be able to afford the medicine Phineas required.”

“Even if that's true,” Cooper said, “who cares now? That was twenty years ago and more.”

“That's not the end of the story,” Rees said. “I would guess few knew of her secret activities. Olive's husband and his friends were passionate Patriots. But someone else, a Loyalist sympathizer, discovered her secret.” Rees looked around but no one spoke. All eyes were fixed upon him.

“Your father visited her regularly,” Rees said to Mr. Gray, turning to him suddenly. “You told me that yourself. As did Mr. Randall.”

“He was trying to help her,” the old man said. But guilty knowledge made his words shake. “Trying to help her and Phinney.”

Rees shook his head. “Mr. Randall? You claim to be Phinney's good friend. What do you say?” Mr. Randall stared straight ahead, stone-faced. “I wondered why Maggie applied to you for help,” Rees said, turning to Elias Gray. “She went only to those with whom she had some kind of connection. And there was never any suggestion that you fathered any of her children.”

Mr. Gray gasped. “Of course not.”

“Once I knew Olive Tucker was her mother, I knew Maggie's father must be local. Maggie went to you, Mr. Gray, because you share the same father. You are her half-brother.” Rees expected a denial, but Mr. Gray did not speak. Instead, tears filled his eyes.

“How can you possibly know that?” Demming said. Turning to the other selectmen, he said, “Mr. Rees is making this up from whole cloth.”

“Mr. Randall?” Rees looked at the man. He turned his gaze away from Rees and fixed it upon the pulpit, so Rees continued. “Mouse mentioned hearing Maggie refer to her brother as though he were living locally. But Olive did not know where her sons had gone. The entries in the Bible said only ‘gone west.' So Maggie must have had another brother.”

“Elias Gray is her brother.” Mary Pettit rose to her feet. With a rustle, the people shifted around to see her. “Olive confided the father's name when she gave birth to Maggie. I never said anything for all those years. But I knew Maggie was desperate. Pregnant again.” Her gaze shifted to Vermette, and then she looked back to Rees. “She was struggling to pull together the money for her taxes and in real danger of losing her farm and being warned out. I thought she had a right to know about her half-brother, so I told her, the day before she was murdered.”

Elias Gray bowed his head.

“Your father loved Olive,” Mary said, gentling her voice, “and Olive cared for him as well.”

“You're going to believe this old squaw?” Demming said, looking around him in disbelief.

“Maggie believed,” Rees said. “And Mr. Randall, at least, knows it is true. Isn't it?” He stared challengingly at Owen Randall. The old man sat in silence, with no more reaction than a statue.

“You persuaded Griffin to deal with Maggie by telling him that he and Maartje, who were supposed to inherit Mr. Gray's land, would lose the property to Maggie. Didn't you?”

Still nothing.

“When Silas tried to blackmail him, Griffin killed him, too. But it was you who tried to shoot me and set fire to Silas's house.”

“How could he do such a thing?” Cooper protested. “He's lame.”

“He left buggy tracks.”

“Caleb drives a buggy also.”

“Indeed. But I found Mr. Randall's footprints, and the marks of his cane, in the snow,” Rees replied, fixing Owen Randall with implacable concentration. “I wondered why the man shooting at me did not pursue me down the hill. And of course, the answer is, you could not. So, since you failed, you sent your cat's-paw after me. Griffin came first to the Whitney farm. But he did not try very hard to kill me, instead shooting a warning shot into the door. Was he beginning to lose his taste for murder? In any case, the arrival of the constable scared him off. My “praying for the Lord's guidance” gave you an opportunity to send him after me again, but this time it was a trap. And when Mr. Cooper took Griffin into custody, you knew you would have to deal with him. Otherwise, he would betray you. You walked down to Cooper's shop and shot your own nephew through the window.” Still the old man didn't speak. But Rees, as he looked around, knew he'd succeeded in making his case, at least to Mr. Gray. His face was contorted with suffering

“Maggie told me she was my sister. I sent her away. I didn't want to believe.”

“The question remains: why?” Rees continued, keeping his attention upon Mr. Randall. “Why keep the secret of Maggie's parentage? Almost everyone involved is dead.”

When Mr. Randall still did not speak, Mr. Gray said, his voice breaking with anguish, “Tell me, Owen, why did you keep this secret from me?”

“And shame you in front of the entire town?” Mr. Randall retorted angrily. “Shame you and Phinney? I value your friendship too much.”

“But you told me Phinney knew that Maggie was Olive's child by another man,” Rees said. “You said he shared that secret with you.”

“I lied. Phinney never knew,” Mr. Randall said. “I saw Judge Gray and Olive together. Both married. And her wed to Phinney. She didn't deserve him.”