Death in Salem (4 page)

“I'm sorry, William,” the doctor began.

The younger man, a shorter, fairer version of his brother, paused in the hall. He looked at his father and his face went white. “I'm going to be sick,” he announced, gagging.

“Get Mattie out of here,” William shouted over his shoulder. Two servants grasped the young man under his armpits and hauled him away.

“I'm Will Rees,” Rees said as he and the doctor carefully lowered the body to the table beneath. “Xenobia asked me to speak to your sister, Margaret.”

“Did she now?” William's voice trembled.

“Be calm, William.” The young woman Rees had seen at the jail strode rapidly into the room, accompanied by Twig. She wore a ruffled black gown that, although obviously mourning weeds, still managed to appear feminine. It was totally unsuited to her and she kept plucking at the ruffles as though she wanted to rip them away. “That idiot Swett arrested Xenobia. Mr. Eaton assures me Mr. Rees can help.”

“But Peggy, this stranger.” The elder brother gestured to Rees in disdain. “How can he possibly help?”

“No woman, and few men, would have the strength to cause this wound. Or the skill,” Rees said with certainty. “I venture to say the good doctor will agree with me; Xenobia could not have done this.” The doctor nodded.

“That is so. Xenobia, who I have had occasion to meet several times, is a small woman.”

For the first time Peggy noticed her father lying upon the table. Her eyes widened and filled with tears. The doctor hastily re-covered the body with the canvas as William, shooting Rees a glare, put his arm around his sister and made as if to urge her from the room. Peggy angrily shrugged off her brother's arm.

“Don't baby me, William. I can manage. We must see that Xenobia is freed from jail without delay.”

“Perhaps we should continue this conversation elsewhere,” William said, turning toward the door, but not before Rees saw William's eyes glitter with moisture. He took out a white handkerchief and wiped his eyes. Straightening his shoulders, he motioned everyone to the hall outside.

“Very well. In the morning room,” Peggy said, dashing away her tears with an impatient hand. William nodded and frowned pointedly at Rees and the doctor.

Rees looked at his bloody hands in dismay and made some attempt to scrub them clean upon the canvas. The doctor, whose hands were untouched by blood, gestured to a basin of water and a cloth that had been set aside for his use. Rees quickly availed himself of the water, scouring his hands until the water turned reddish-brown.

He then followed the doctor and the Boothes out of the small housekeeper's office and into another room across the hall. A large fireplace dominated the opposite wall and over the mantel hung a portrait of a young woman with fair hair. Although the artist had painted her in a stiff pose against a red drape, he'd possessed enough skill to catch the roguish glint in her eyes. Her lips were curved in a sweet smile.

“My mother,” Peggy said unnecessarily, her voice beginning to tremble. Rees nodded and looked around. Decorated almost exclusively with items brought from the East, this chamber boasted walls hung in embroidered silk, a black lacquer table, and several beautiful porcelain bowls. There was even a strange blue statue with four arms. Rees stared at it for several seconds before turning his gaze to the spindly furniture. Imported from England but still in the Eastern style, it did not seem sturdy enough to hold Rees's weight. At more than six feet, he towered over everyone else in the room save Twig, who Rees outweighed by at least fifty pounds. As the aptly named Twig sat down, Rees propped himself up against the wall. William turned a frown upon the upstart but Twig did not notice. Rees marked William's expression; here was a young man very conscious of his own importance.

Miss Peggy dropped onto a bench as though her legs had collapsed beneath her, but the face she turned to her brother was fierce with purpose. “I could not believe Xenobia guilty of Father's murder, William, and now we know that she was not. You must speak to the deputy sheriff without delay so she can come home.”

“Home?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow at her. “She was responsible for caring for Mother. With Mother's death, Xenobia has no further function here.”

Peggy's mouth tightened with annoyance. “She can look after me then,” she said. “I won't permit you to sell her. Unless you sell her to me. Then I shall promptly free her and employ her myself. Really William, she is part of the family.”

William's expression darkened. “Must I remind you that I am the head of this family now? Father allowed you too much latitude, but I will not make that mistake.”

“Perhaps not,” Peggy said, exhibiting no anxiety at all. “But perhaps the contempt of our neighbors will sway you. We already bear the burden of gossip for owning a slave.” Leaning forward, she added emphatically, “You know how many of them despise us for that. If you sell her or turn her off you must realize we will all bear the brunt of disapprobation.” Rees nodded at the girl approvingly. He wished his wife Lydia was here now; he thought she would admire the fiery Peggy Boothe greatly. But William's scowl was thunderous.

“Very well,” he said after a moment's silence. “I will do nothing. For now. Yes, Peggy,” he held up a hand to forestall her speech, “I will instruct the sheriff to free Xenobia and she may return home. For the time being. No doubt we shall require an extra pair of hands now that we have lost…” Abruptly his voice hoarsened and he turned aside. No one spoke. Tears filled Peggy's eyes and dripped down her cheeks. She wiped her eyes with her fingers until Twig offered her his handkerchief. She nodded her thanks and pressed the grubby square of cloth into her eyes. Rees found Twig's behavior surprising. First, because he had a handkerchief and second, because he was willing to offer it to someone else.

William's shoulders tensed and twitched with the struggle to govern his emotion. When he turned around, his face was red but he'd recovered control of his voice. “Where's Betsy?”

“Still abed.” Peggy frowned, adding in disapproval, “I expect she will not emerge until Mr. Morris arrives to comfort her.”

“
If
he arrives,” William said. He sighed, his shoulders slumping, and Rees glimpsed the pressure under which this young man labored. “He's one of the Crowninshield cousins after all. He might feel his consequence is too high to wed a woman whose father was murdered. Especially after the death of her mother under somewhat questionable…” Recollecting his audience he glanced at Rees, and seeing he was listening with great attention, William jerked abruptly to a stop.

“Russell Morris would never break our betrothal, not for something like that,” a light voice said from the door. Peggy turned and, upon seeing her sister, rose to her feet.

“No doubt you're correct, Bets,” she said, stretching out a hand. “I know he loves you.” But a worried line insinuated itself between her fair brows. Rees guessed that Peggy, and William too, feared the scandal would break both the betrothal and their sister's heart. And Rees thought they might be right. That was the way of the world.

Rees focused his attention upon Elisabeth Boothe. She was as fair as her sister but more strongly resembled the portrait of their mother. Betsy's features had escaped the sharp nose and chin Peggy and William shared. Large blue eyes and a trembling mouth gave her the appearance of softness, and as Rees watched Betsy, tears welled in her eyes and began running down her cheeks.

“My wedding has already had to be postponed,” she whispered. On her, the black gown, identical to Peggy's, was flattering. She looked both beautiful and delicate. Even Rees, who was more attracted to Peggy's fire, felt the desire to protect this fragile young woman from harm. He could imagine the effect she would have upon younger, unmarried men.

“Don't cry, Bets,” William said. “Don't worry.”

Peggy, however, looked at her sister with some impatience. “Of course, Father had to postpone the wedding,” she said. “It would be most indecorous to go forward with it immediately after the death of your Mother. And now, with Father's death…” Her voice trailed off as Betsy began to weep.

“Don't be cross with me, Peggy,” Betsy said.

Peggy exchanged a glance with William and said bracingly, “Now Bets, I'm absolutely certain your Russell Morris will wait until you're out of mourning.”

“I don't have time for these female dramatics,” William said. “I want to catch the sheriff and free Xenobia today. Finish this task before it steals any more of my time.”

Rees turned to Twig, who nodded slightly. “We too, will take our leave,” he said. “In fact, if you don't mind, Mr. Boothe, I'll join you in your search for the sheriff.”

“Why, Mr. Eaton,” Betsy Boothe said, looking at Twig, “I apologize for my poor manners. I didn't see you there.” She smiled up at him and Rees could see the undertaker melting, bending toward her, like a candle to a flame. “And who is this?” She directed her full attention at Rees and he felt its warmth. She must have had a wide choice among the single men in Salem for her future husband.

“Will Rees,” he said. “I am a friend of Tw—Mr. Eaton's.”

“I am delighted to make your acquaintance,” she murmured, extending her hand. Rees bowed over it, but not before he caught the expression upon Peggy's face. She looked as though she'd just bitten into a lemon.

“And I, yours,” Rees said automatically.

“Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Rees,” Peggy said, breaking into the exchange. “Mr. Eaton promised me you would unknot this tangle and he wasn't mistaken.” She heaved a sigh. “Poor Xenobia can now return home.”

“Indeed,” Rees agreed. He hesitated. It was not his place to say anything, but he felt he owed it to Jacob Boothe. “The question is, though, I mean, if Xenobia is an innocent party, then who murdered your father?”

Betsy emitted a loud wail and fled from the room.

For a moment no one else spoke, frozen into a rigid tableau. “There is that, I suppose,” William said, his face white with shock. Rees suspected the young man had not thought beyond Xenobia.

“Can you … I mean, will you?” Peggy looked at Rees, her hands clasped beseechingly. “You immediately proved Xenobia's innocence and Mr. Eaton says you have both experience and skill.”

“Peggy, really,” her brother said. “He proved nothing, he merely drew our attention to an improbability. There are others in town who might study this for us. Mr. Rees is a stranger and I'm quite certain he has work of his own to attend to.”

“Exactly,” Peggy interrupted, turning to stare at her brother. “He doesn't live in Salem and will leave when his investigation is done. In other words, he won't be dining out among our neighbors on tales of our tragedies.”

“Although I'm certain everyone knows of the quarrels between you and Father,” William said, drawing himself up in outrage, “I have no regrettable secrets.”

“No, of course not,” Peggy said. “But with a Salem man living in our back pockets, well, I daresay you won't mind if every detail of your courtship is bruited about with little regard for truth.” William went pale. “Besides,” Peggy continued with a nod, “Mr. Rees is not quite a stranger. He and Mr. Eaton have known one another for more than twenty years. And you've known Mr. Eaton almost as long, William.” She paused and Rees, who was surprised by her insistence, thought she'd made her case. But she spoke again, adding one final shot. “If you're unwilling to employ Mr. Rees, I will.”

“With what?” William snapped. “I'm now the Head of this Household.” Rees heard the capital letters.

“I have funds of my own,” Peggy said, fixing a stubborn glare upon her brother. “Or are you planning to claim you have control of those as well?” Although she did not say it, Rees knew she would fight her brother over every penny and never yield.

“You betray an unfortunate combative streak that is most unfeminine,” William said. “I shall never marry you off.”

Oh yes, Lydia would like fierce Peggy. Rees chuckled quietly to himself, although he felt a twinge of sympathy for William. Peggy would be a difficult sister to manage.

“Pooh,” Peggy said inelegantly. “You know the deputy sheriff cannot handle a matter of this delicacy. So, what will it be, William?”

Gathering the rags of his dignity about him, William turned to Rees. “Very well. If you think you can solve this mystery, I offer you employment. What is your fee?”

“I haven't yet agreed to take on this commission,” Rees said. He hesitated, thinking. He was eager to return home to Lydia, but there was the money to consider. And Jacob Boothe needed someone to fight for him. Rees rapidly added sums. He knew how much he might earn weaving on the journey home and added a bit more for the expenses of staying with Mrs. Baldwin and his meals. “$15.00 for two weeks,” he said. “And we can renegotiate the price at the end of the time if I haven't discovered the murderer's identity. And in hard cash, too,” he added. “Not that paper money.”

William's brows rose at the sum. He turned to Peggy. “I expect you will have something to say if I don't agree,” he said. “You are the most willful sister a man could have.”

A faint chime of recognition sounded in Rees's head and he wondered if he sounded as arrogant speaking to his sister. Certainly Caroline would say so, and as Rees thought about it he had to admit he probably did. Peggy flapped her hand to brush away William's complaint. “Well, William?”

“Oh, very well,” William said to Rees. “I agree to your terms. And now I must look for Deputy Sheriff Swett so Xenobia can be home by supper.” Clapping his hat upon his head, William fled. Rees bowed over Peggy's hand, promised to speak with her within another day or two, and followed Twig from the room.