Death in Salem (13 page)

Rees swallowed, cleared his throat, and swallowed again. The knowledge that he'd taken her for the maid sent a surge of embarrassment through him. “Mrs. Foster, I apologize.” He stopped. What could he say? Everything that occurred to him would surely insult her.

“I'm not what you were expecting,” Mrs. Foster said, her gray eyes dancing. “I don't doubt you've heard no end of stories from Jacob's children.” Rees could think of nothing to say. “Now, please tell me why you're involving yourself in the murder of Mr. Boothe. And murder it was, no one can persuade me it was not.” Her voice broke and she shielded her trembling mouth with one hand.

Rees inspected Georgianne Foster's averted face with increased attention. Her plain country mouse appearance was at odds with her forthright and opinionated manner of speaking. Rees would not have expected Jacob Boothe to find a bluestocking attractive. Yet, if the tears in her eyes were any indication, she'd been fond of him and was mourning. “I agree with you,” Rees said. “Mr. Boothe was most certainly murdered. In fact, that's why I'm here.”

“What do you mean?”

“I'm trying to identify the person who murdered him,” Rees said.

Mrs. Foster blinked at him. “You are? And you're here, in my drawing room, because you suspect me?” Her voice rose.

“I hoped you might give me some insight into Mr. Boothe.”

“And why would you think I could do that? Because you think me his mistress?” She rose to her feet and circled her chair.

Perspiration popped out upon Rees's brow and began rolling down his spine. He could not help offending Mrs. Foster with every word he spoke. He wished he'd waited for Lydia. “I didn't mean that,” he said. “I was told you knew him well.” He stammered a little with embarrassment.

“I'm not Mr. Boothe's mistress,” she said in an icy voice. Rees could well believe that; she was much too prickly to attract most men.

“But you knew him? And, perhaps, know about those who might have wished him harm?” Rees resisted the urge to wipe his face with his sleeve.

“Of course. He was very active in the committee that offered aid to the widows and children of seamen.” She paused and then said, “And what authority do you have to poke into his life?”

“Anyone would think you weren't interested in knowing the truth,” Rees said, tiring of her belligerence. “Mr. William Boothe retained me to look into the circumstances surrounding his father's death.”

“He did? I wouldn't have expected that. Why would he do that?”

“Because Deputy Swett arrested Xenobia and put her in jail. It is quite clear she could not have harmed Mr. Boothe, she has not the strength, and once I viewed the body…” Her cheeks blanched and Rees instantly felt guilty. “Please forgive me.”

“No, no, it's all right.” She forced a smile. “And what has become of Xenobia now?”

“Freed from jail and home.” Rees paused, but Mrs. Foster did not speak. “But someone murdered Mr. Boothe and I mean to find out who. Do you know of anyone who hated Mr. Boothe? A rival businessman, perhaps? Or a disgruntled partner?”

Georgianne Foster shook her head. “No, there's no one like that. Mr. Boothe was an honest man. And a successful businessman. The investors in his merchant ships should have nothing of which to complain. None of them would want to harm him.”

“What about one of his children?” The words flew out of Rees's mouth before he could stop them.

She turned a cool assessing stare upon him. “Now, why would you say that? I may have been beneath their regard, but they loved their father. Everyone will tell you the same. Mr. Boothe and his children rubbed along rather well, with little friction. But you must know that yourself.”

“Alas, I did not know Mr. Boothe well,” Rees said. He doubted he could claim an acquaintanceship with the other man based upon a five-minute conversation. “What about Matthew? Is he in debt? Perhaps his father refused to pay his bills?”

“Well, yes, the boy is in debt, but no more than usual for young men. The Derby boy is a bad influence, at least according to…” She bit her lip. “Anyway, I don't believe he owes more than his sister Elizabeth. I've been told her dressmaker's bills are breathtaking.” Rees recalled Betsy's appearance; he thought Mrs. Foster was probably correct. But he suspected that Matthew was in much more trouble than Jacob Boothe had let on to Mrs. Foster. Rees eyed the woman before him with interest. Although willing to believe Georgianne was not Mr. Boothe's mistress, Rees could see that she had enjoyed his acquaintance. And now she was doing her utmost to protect his family, answering Rees's questions with minimum information.

“And Peggy?”

“Peggy was always his favorite.” She smiled slightly. “I expect you've heard about their recent quarrels? Once William came home from Baltimore, Jacob began transferring all the business responsibilities to him. From Peggy. She didn't like that, but Jacob feared if he continued to allow her to behave inappropriately, she would never marry and dwindle into a spinster.”

Rees supposed Peggy might prefer that, but he didn't argue. With his visit to the Coville family fresh in his mind, he changed tack. “Did Mr. Boothe ever speak about his wife?” he asked.

Mrs. Foster's eyebrows rose at Rees's abruptness. “Not often,” she said. But her eyelids fluttered and she glanced away. “Just that she was ill and had been so for a very long time.”

“Tell the truth, Georgie,” said a light female voice from the door behind Rees. He spun around. A woman somewhat younger than Mrs. Foster hesitated in the entrance. She was of slender build and brown-haired like Georgianne, but there the resemblance ended. Her eyes were a velvety chocolate, not gray, and a pink ribbon twined through her short curls. Instead of a high-necked gray gown, her frock was white—no, Rees realized, it was pink, but so light a pink it appeared white. A dark pink sash drew attention to her bosom and the low neckline. Georgianne faded into the background, as dowdy as a peahen.

“My cousin, Isabella Porter,” Mrs. Foster said. “When my husband disappeared at sea, I asked her to join me.” Her flat tone caused Rees to wonder if Georgianne regretted her generous gesture; certainly she appeared dull and unattractive in comparison to her pretty cousin.

Miss Porter smiled at Rees. “At first I was hesitant to come. After all, isn't Salem known throughout this country as the center of witchcraft and witches?” She shivered with delicious excitement.

“The trials were a hundred years ago,” Georgianne said sharply. “Sensible people no longer believe in such things.”

“Quite true,” Rees said, smiling at Miss Porter. He turned his attention back to Mrs. Foster. “Tell me more about Matthew?”

“Matthew was a trial to his father. He spent every penny of his allowance, mostly upon that theatrical hobby of his,” Isabella said.

“Now, Isabella,” Georgianne began. Her cousin frowned at her.

“You know Jacob was worried about him, Georgie. And the things missing from the cellar and the warehouse. I would not have allowed the boy to continue.”

“Enough,” Georgianne said in a severe tone.

So, it was not only William who had noticed the missing items. Rees filed that away for further thought. But at the moment, Matthew interested him far less than the woman taking a seat beside her cousin. Likeliest, Rees thought, gossip had gotten the story only half-right; Jacob Boothe's love interest did reside in this house, but was not Georgianne Foster. “And what did Mr. Boothe say of his wife?” Rees asked again.

“Her illness prevented Anstiss Boothe from behaving as a wife for many years.“Isabella Porter pursed her lips in a little moue that left no doubt to what wifely activity she meant. “Everyone knows that. But Jacob was so brave and uncomplaining.”

Rees, who could guess to what end Boothe was aiming, felt his lips twist. “I've heard others refer to Mrs. Boothe's illness,” he said. “What was it?”

Isabella threw a look at her cousin.

“I'm afraid none of us know that,” Georgianne said. “But she kept to her own apartments. It's been years, or so I've heard, since she went out.”

“Jacob said she slept a great deal,” Isabella contributed helpfully. “Why are you interested, Mr. Rees?”

Again he went through his tale, although he kept it much abbreviated. He was sure Miss Porter was not truly interested in his response, and that her question was simply an effort to keep the conversation going. He saw Georgianne shrink back into her seat as her cousin leaned forward, all sparkle and shine. “How very generous of you to give your time to help solve this terrible mystery,” she said. As a young man, Rees might have found the attentions of a pretty woman flattering, but from the vantage of his age, and as a happily married man at that, he was put off. Georgianne must be regretting her generosity to her cousin now.

“Did you know Mr. Boothe well?” Rees asked Isabella.

“Of course.” She laughed. “He visited often.”

“Did he speak of any business partners with whom he disagreed?” Rees asked.

“Oh no, we never discussed business.” She laughed again. “Sometimes he brought exotic gifts, brought for us on his ships from all these countries with strange names. He brought me this necklace.” She fingered the thin shining chain with the brownish stone at the end. “It's carved into a rose. ‘A rose for a rose,' he said.” Her fingers invited Rees to admire her plump white chest.

She exhibited no sign of grieving for the man she claimed to like so much, and Rees recoiled from her callousness. He turned to Georgianne Foster once again.

“We are a household of women, Mr. Rees,” she said with a thin smile. “Jacob rarely discussed business with us. And although he spoke of his children once in awhile, he mentioned his wife infrequently.” She stopped suddenly, and Rees had the impression she'd planned to say more but had thought better of it.

“It was always so gay when he visited,” Miss Porter said wistfully. “Last April Jacob took us to see a strange animal from the Orient. Huge and covered in gray hide, with a long trunk that swung side to side.”

“I have never heard of such an animal,” Rees said in disbelief.

“Captain Crowninshield brought the elephant from the East, passing through Salem on his way to Boston.” Georgianne sounded like a schoolteacher.

“I hope the elephant,” Isabella stumbled a little over the word, “is brought back to Salem. I would dearly love to see such an exotic creature again.”

“Was the elephant ferocious?” Rees asked. He knew all manner of strange beasts lived in the East. Georgianne shook her head and would have answered, but Isabella jumped in before her.

“The creature was quite tame,” she said. “Why, she took the bread from a gentleman's pocket.”

“I hope to see such a strange animal some day,” Rees said.

For a moment, the three of them sat in silence. Rees looked out the window and saw it was already past noon. His stomach was growling, and before his next stop he would have to eat. He needed to draw this visit to a close if he still intended to stop at the Coville wharf today.

“You puzzle me, Mr. Rees,” Georgianne said. “Why are you doing this?” As Rees opened his mouth she held up a hand. “I know, you explained that you are now employed by William Boothe. But I just find it hard to believe that you abandoned your own life to involve yourself in this—this tragedy.”

“Stephen Eaton is an old friend,” Rees said. “He asked me to help Xenobia. I was already nearby. I am a traveling weaver and I stopped in Salem briefly.”

“You have no home? No family waiting for you?”

“I do. And I'm anxious to return to them. But resolving such conundrums is a talent of mine and I owe my friend my life.” He paused and added, “You seem reluctant to see this investigation proceed.”

Her lips parted, but she held herself still for several seconds. Finally she nodded. “I am. I fear no good will come of this.” She leaned forward and clasped her hands together. “I wish you would take care.”

“Don't you believe Jacob Boothe deserves justice?” Rees asked. “He was murdered.”

“I do. But you are stirring up the mud. You are endangering others.” Her eyes met Rees's. “Sometimes it is better to let things lie. Please.” Rees stared at her. What did she fear? What secret did she hide? Boothe's children already knew of her existence. Was it Isabella she was trying to protect? Or was it the Boothe children, as a final gift to Jacob?

“I disagree,” Rees said. Seeing her alarm, he kept his voice gentle. “If identifying Jacob Boothe's murderer lays bare some secrets, then perhaps they should not be kept hidden.”

“Oh, you are both so serious,” Isabella Porter trilled. “And we were having such a jolly conversation.” She laughed and Rees realized she did so as punctuation. “Well, I hope you'll call upon us again, Mr. Rees. I've so enjoyed your visit.”

Rees, who hadn't removed his eyes from Georgianne, saw her mouth twist.

“I will certainly visit once again,” Rees said, looking from one woman to the other. “I know my wife will be delighted to meet you.” Isabella bit her lip. “I expect her to join me here in Salem soon.”

“We'll be happy to meet her,” said Georgianne with a smile. The quick look she shot her cousin was not friendly. “Won't we, Bella?”

“Of course,” said Isabella.

Rees sensed some vibration between the cousins. Isabella was clearly dismayed by his revelation, and Georgianne seemed almost glad to see her cousin disappointed.

“Let me show you out,” Mrs. Foster said, rising to her feet and waving a hand at the door. Rees couldn't ignore the subtle command and also stood up. Silently he followed her into the hall. As he stepped through the front door, she said, “I hope you know what you're doing, Mr. Rees.” She hesitated and he guessed she planned to say something further. But she thought better of it and closed the door softly behind him.