Death in Salem (34 page)

“That harlot from the Black Cat. The one with one eye missing. Claims she's Annie's mother. You know what she said?” She lifted tear-filled eyes first to Lydia and then to Rees. “That it was time for Annie to earn her bread. Annie didn't want to go. She ran away screaming but that big black man caught her and threw her over his shoulder like a sack of grain. He carried her out of here, screaming and wailing. She drew a crowd, I'll say that, and some of the men were willing to help Annie. But that black slave drew his sword and took Annie out of here. And then some of the people wanted to come in and look around, so I shut the gate and locked it.” She stopped abruptly and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

Lydia turned to look at Rees with frightened eyes. But her voice, when she spoke to Mrs. Baldwin, was soothing. “My goodness, you have had an exciting morning.”

What if Annie had been his daughter? What if Jerusha had been taken? Rees began to shake with anger. “I'm going to get her back,” he said, wheeling around and heading for the door.

“I'm going with you,” Lydia said.

“You can't go,” Mrs. Baldwin argued, fixing her gaze upon Lydia's belly. “You might get hurt.” Rees saw a moment's consideration speed across Lydia's face, but then she shook her head.

“I must. I'll appeal to One-Eyed Mary, mother to mother, and maybe I can persuade her to release Annie.”

Rees did not want to waste any more time in pointless talk. He spun around and marched toward the door. Lydia pushed herself to her feet and hurried to join him.

Only a few people remained outside the gate, and most of those were trying to discover the cause of all the excitement. Rees and Lydia thrust their way through them and trotted down the lane toward the harbor. “I pray Annie is safe,” Lydia said.

“They don't have a long head start,” Rees said. “With any luck, we'll reach the house before anything happens.”

It was still too early for much custom, and the man who usually guarded the door was not there. Rees tried the knob; the door wasn't locked. Raising his eyebrows at Lydia, he cautiously opened the door. The hall was empty as well. But they both could hear Annie's screams coming from somewhere on the first floor. Without a second's thought, Rees raced to the back, Lydia panting at his heels.

Annie's cries drew them to a solid door tucked under the stairs. Rees opened it and saw the girl, tied to a chair in front of a desk, her face scarlet with her screams. “You are being foolish,” One-Eyed Mary was saying, her tone calm but unyielding. She was garbed in an ice blue gown of the finest muslin that molded itself to the body underneath. “What will you do to support yourself in the streets? Same thing you'll do here. So you might as well stay here where you are safe, well-treated, and protected.” Her eye widened when she saw Rees appear in the open door. The bodyguard began to turn but Rees, the beast raging within him, hit the man with all his strength and saw him fall. Shaking his stinging hand, Rees turned to Mary.

“Let Annie go.”

“Mr. Rees,” Annie cried in relief, struggling against the restraints.

The Madame smiled without humor. “Well, well, another applicant for my daughter's favors. It will cost you to become her protector.”

“That's not how it is,” Rees began, crossing the floor and kneeling beside Annie's chair. He took out his pocketknife and began sawing at the silk ties binding her ankles and wrists.

“We'll take Annie someplace safe,” Lydia said from the doorway. “She'll be educated and trained in all the housewifely arts. And she will not have to sell herself.”

One-Eyed Mary's laugh expressed a lifetime of broken promises. “I don't believe you. And don't tell me you're acting from good Christian charity; I've seen too many pastors in here.”

With a gasp, Rees cut through the final strand and watched the restraints fall from Annie's torso. She leaped to her feet and hurled herself into Rees's arms.

“I wasn't sure you'd come.”

“Of course, we would,” Rees said. The feel of her baby fine hair against his chin reminded him of Jerusha and her younger siblings. And what if Lydia bore a girl, his daughter? The intensity of his rage and loathing made him tremble, and when he turned to stare at Mary she took an involuntary step back.

“So,” she said with a toss of her head, “which of you is interested in my Annie?”

“She's just a child,” Rees bellowed. He'd never struck a woman, but the urge to hit Mary was almost overwhelming.

“We are parents,” Lydia said at the same time. “I know a place where Annie can go. They are celibate there. She'll work and work hard, I don't deny that, but it is good, honest work.” And then, to Rees's astonished admiration, Lydia stepped forward and put her hand on the woman's wrist. “Do you truly want to see your daughter live this life? Especially when she doesn't want to? She has a chance.”

To Rees's disbelief, tears rushed into the Madame's eye and begin rolling down her cheek. “But it's not such a bad life,” she protested. “Not here, anyway. I could protect her.”

“From the streets, yes. But we'll bring her to a place where she will be as safe and much happier. If she isn't, why, she can return to you. No one will stop her.”

Mary hesitated. The bodyguard rose to his feet rubbing his jaw. Rees put Annie aside and moved around so he could keep an eye on the man. He was not black, as Mrs. Baldwin had said, but a dark brown. His head covering had come off. Although the bands that made up the turban were beginning to unwind, he put it back on. Scowling at Rees, he said, “I can kill this man for you, Miss Mary.”

“No, Mustafa, I think not.” She eyed Rees and Lydia with her good eye. “Bring chairs for our guests, please, and see about refreshments.” Another humorless smile. “It seems some negotiation is in order.” Mary walked to the desk, every step an invitation. “Annie seems to like you, but she is young and na
ï
ve. Tell me about this paradise you plan to bring her to.” Lydia began describing Zion, the Shaker community in which she had lived before meeting Rees. Mary listened without comment for several minutes. “It sounds too good to be true,” she said finally, when Lydia paused for breath.

“They are good people,” Lydia said. “And they won't force her to sign the Covenant and stay, if she doesn't wish to.” She stopped. Rees noticed she said nothing about Billy.

With a clatter of crockery, Mustafa carried in a large silver tray, polished to a high gloss, and put it on the desk. Mary inspected the cups and pitchers. “Besides tea, Mr. Rees, I have Madeira. Would you prefer ale? Or whiskey? Or rum?”

“I'd prefer coffee,” Rees said. “But ale is fine as well.”

Mary nodded at Mustafa. “And tell cook some of those little cakes,” she said. When Mustafa left the room and closed the door behind him, Mary turned her eye upon Annie. “What do you say, Annie?”

“I want to go with them,” she said, lifting her chin. “I don't want to work in this house. I don't want to stay in Salem.”

“Where everyone knows you're One-Eyed Mary's daughter,” Mary finished. She paused, but although she said nothing Rees saw the struggle in her face. She loved her daughter, and Rees was surprised by a sudden flash of pity. “Very well,” she said at last. She looked at Rees. “And how much are you willing to pay?”

As Rees, his sympathy evaporating, emptied his pockets upon the desk, Annie said, “You're selling me?”

“Of course. I'm losing not only a maid but also a future whore.” She stopped when Annie burst into tears.

“You never loved me.”

“Of course I did. I do.” Mary paused again. This time her struggle lasted several seconds longer. “Oh, very well.” She eyed the coins upon the dark mahogany. Besides the English farthings and pence, the tiny heap included a few new United States' copper pennies, a shilling, and two French sous. “It's not enough anyway. You might as well be a gift.” Rees quickly scooped up the coins, before Mary changed her mind. William Boothe's deposit was almost gone, and if he did not pay the second installment Rees would need this money to settle his bills. “Gather up your things.” Mary's voice caught and she cleared her throat. Annie hesitated, her mouth curved in a smile of joy although tears ran down her cheeks. Now that she knew she was definitely going, she was hesitating. “Go on now,” Mary said. Annie looked at her mother once more and then bounded from the room.

Mary turned and regarded Rees and Lydia. “Please, sit,” she said. Lydia collapsed gratefully into the horsehair chair positioned across the desk from Mary. Rees picked up the chair to which Annie had been tied and carried it to the front of the desk next to his wife. For a few seconds no one spoke. Rees took this opportunity to look around him. He thought that, despite the fine desk, the couch in its cover of Chinese brocade, and the beautiful Turkish carpet underneath, this room was as much a business office as Jacob Boothe's counting house. “This is my private chamber,” Mary said, watching Rees's eyes wander. “I allow few inside that door.”

“It is lovely,” Lydia said. Rees nodded. Mary was a skilled businesswoman, but he couldn't find a way to say so without sounding offensive.

“All of this could be Annie's,” Mary said.

“She can choose to return,” Rees said, although he did not believe she would.

“I'm trusting Annie to you.”

“Zion is as I told you,” Lydia said, her tone sharpening. “Annie will be safe there.”

A discreet tap upon the door signaled the arrival of Mustafa with another tray. Rees smelled coffee and cinnamon. No one spoke as Mustafa placed the plate of cakes upon the desktop and a tiny cup in front of Rees. He stared at it in dismay. He could easily drink four or five times that amount. Mustafa poured the coffee from a small flagon into the cup, put a small bowl of sugar chunks and a pitcher of cream in front of Rees, and then withdrew.

“You will find the coffee stronger than you are used to,” Mary warned as she watched Rees add sugar and cream to the inky brew. Rees took a gulp. He gasped. The coffee was hot, but more than that he could feel it sizzling through his body. Like lightning, energy and fire both. He wondered if he would be able to finish this cup. “Mustafa brews coffee as he learned in his homeland,” Mary said. Although she didn't smile, Rees knew she was laughing at him. She poured tea for herself and Lydia and took a cake. “And now, how is your investigation into Mr. Boothe's murder faring?”

“You know about that?” Rees said in surprise.

“Of course. Deputy Sheriff Swett is a regular patron.” She showed her teeth to Rees in something that was not quite a smile and added, “He's not very happy with you. Anyway, there is very little that happens in Salem that I do not know of. I number most of the leading citizens among my patrons.”

Rees wondered if she knew that Peggy had been accustomed to going about disguised as a man. He'd wager this was information Mary did not know.

“Did Mr. Boothe—um,” Lydia stopped, her cheeks coloring. She didn't have the courage to ask if he'd been a customer.

Mary shook her head. “No, I'm sorry to say. He didn't frequent this establishment. Or any establishment, as far as I'm aware. But then, I believe he had a mistress. Not that that prevents a gentleman from availing himself of the services I provide.”

“Matthew Boothe,” Rees said, already certain of the answer. “Was he a patron?”

“Oh yes. A very generous man. He always brought little gifts for the girls. We haven't seen much of him, though, since he took on his new hobby—playacting.” Her mouth quirked up as though she found the very idea of acting amusing. “Yet we saw more of Edward Coville, Matthew's cousin you know, until he sailed.” She shook her head as though amused by the vagaries of men.

“What kind of gifts did Matthew Boothe bring?” Rees asked, bringing the conversation back to the topic. This Matthew sounded like a different person from the man Rees knew.

“Silk and cashmere shawls, jewelry and other trinkets. What you might expect from a young man engaged in the shipping business.” She added with a trace of genuine warmth, “Yes, Matthew is popular with the girls. Pleasant, funny, and generous.”

“He didn't have a favorite?” Rees asked. Mary shook his head.

“Not so far. He loved them all. I sometimes think his goal was to try out every girl in my house. Unlike his cousin; only Lottie would do for Edward.”

A sharp rap sounded, and before Mary could invite the visitor in, the door opened. Annie hurried in, almost running. “Annie, please,” Mary said. “You wait to be invited. And no lady gallops into a room like a colt.” But Rees heard the tears under the reproof. Annie dropped the small canvas valise and went to her mother.

Lydia put her hand on Rees's and motioned to the door. They stepped outside the office so that mother and daughter could say their good-byes.

With the onset of dusk, the house was coming alive. Rees could hear masculine laughter and the clink of glasses from the parlor across the hall. Beautifully dressed young women were descending the stairs and disappearing into the parlor. Mustafa's fellow servant had taken up his post at the front door and as Rees watched, a gentleman entered. He handed his hat and stick to the doorman and disappeared into the parlor without looking around. A regular patron, Rees guessed. He couldn't help wondering if that man was married, had a family.

“May we help you?” A soft feminine voice drew Rees's attention and he looked down at two young women. The girl who had spoken was the taller of the two, brown-haired, with sultry half-closed blue eyes. But Rees's gaze was drawn to her companion, a small blond with full succulent lips. Although he knew he had never seen her before, she looked familiar.

“We're waiting for Annie,” Lydia said, grasping Rees's arm in a possessive clutch.