Killing Gifts (12 page)

“Otis mentioned something else,” Rose said. “He saw you lift up Julia's skirt. Why did you do that?”

Dulcie hesitated, just for a moment. “Oh, it was just because I saw something bright-colored sticking out from under her hem, that's all. It was only a piece of old calico, a rag.”

“The police didn't find it. Did you take it?”

Dulcie shrugged. “I didn't think it was important. I mean, it was just an old rag. It was kind of pretty, though—red and blue checks. I thought it would make a good handkerchief. I thought the sisters must have left it in the Summerhouse. It wasn't the sort of thing Julia would like.”

It struck Rose as strangely cold-hearted that Dulcie would lift her dead sister's skirt to take a bit of fabric. Her excuse—that it might make a good handkerchief—was farfetched. “Do you still have the rag?” Rose asked.

“When I got back to my room, I started feeling bad about taking it, so I threw it away.” Dulcie squirmed under her travel rug. “She wasn't really bad deep down, you know. Julia, I mean. She couldn't help being what she was. We were so poor. We didn't have anything, and she just wanted something.”

“You aren't like her, though,” Rose said.

“I was younger. What Julia was doing, it scared me. I don't want to be scared all the time.”

“Are you scared about your baby?”

“Yes.”

“Have you told Theodore yet?

Dulcie picked at the wool rug. “Telling him would be scarier than
not
telling him,” she said.

“He's going to find out eventually. From what I've heard about Theodore, he would want to do the right thing. And if he doesn't, perhaps it would be best to know that soon, so you can make some plans for your life. Nothing is hopeless, you know. If you feel you can't raise the baby on your own, there's no shame in asking the sisters for help. They would gladly raise the child themselves or find a family for it, and they would help you in any way they can. I can promise you that.”

“I want my baby,” Dulcie said. Her tone was emphatic, and so was the silence that followed. She turned her face and shoulders away from Rose and leaned her head against the seat.

 

After delivering Dulcie to her room and insisting she take a nap, Rose decided to replace her in the kitchen, where preparations for the evening meal were under way. She wanted to try again to loosen Carlotta's tongue.

Two sisters were working with Carlotta in the kitchen when Rose arrived. She assured them she would take over for them, and they gratefully returned to their other duties.

Carlotta moved no faster than usual. “Where's Dulcie? Sick again?”

“She's in need of a rest, so I'm taking her place,” Rose said. She stirred a pot of potato stew, which was to provide the substance of the evening meal. She'd grown tired of potatoes, a winter staple, but the rich scent of onions and salt pork sparked her interest in eating again.

Rose peeked sideways and watched Carlotta linger over the slicing of a jam cake, a special treat for dessert. The young woman's face was pinched and tense, as if years of hunger made her uneasy near such a luscious dish. But she didn't even lick the spatula she'd used as a knife. Perhaps her hunger was not for food.

When they had served the stew and brown bread to the silent group in the dining room upstairs, Rose and Carlotta each took a serving and settled at the kitchen worktable. But Carlotta seemed uninterested in any conversation with the intruder to her world, so Rose broke the silence.

“Have you worked in Hancock for long?” she asked, though she knew the answer.

Carlotta took a bite of bread and chewed it before answering. “Nope,” she said, “and I won't stick around for long. I'm just helping them get ready for this big party they're supposed to have.”

“Mother Ann's Birthday,” Rose said.

“Yeah.”

“Do you enjoy this work?”

“It's okay. Better than nothing.”

“Have you worked at other jobs in Pittsfield? It's your hometown, isn't it?”

Carlotta had thick, dark eyebrows, which lowered to give her eyes a hooded look. “Yeah, I grew up there. Why do you want to know?”

“Just curious.”

“No, you're not,” Carlotta said. “You're here to pin Julia's murder on somebody, and you sure won't pick a Shaker, if you can get away with it. You'd just love to find somebody like me to blame, wouldn't you? Somebody unimportant, an outsider.”

“Carlotta! Is that what you think of us?” Rose pushed aside her empty plate and leaned on the table toward the girl. “All I want to find is the truth. I would never, ever just
pick
someone to accuse of murder.”

Carlotta said nothing, but her cynical scowl was eloquent. Rose decided to get tough.

“However,” she said, leaning back in her chair, “if you refuse to speak to me, I admit it will strike me as very suspicious. I'll begin to wonder what you're trying to hide.”

Carlotta sulked in silence.

“
Do
you have something to hide?”

“Of course not.” Carlotta tipped her soup bowl and scraped up a last spoonful of stew, all the while keeping a wary eye on Rose.

“Then there is no reason to be afraid. The sooner you tell me everything you know, the sooner we can resolve this tragedy, and I'll be gone, back to Kentucky.”

“How do I know you won't take everything I say and use it against me?”

“Do you believe that any of the sisters here would do such a thing?”

Carlotta shrugged. “Most everybody in town says the Shakers are honest.”

“It's the same where I come from,” Rose said. “Honesty is part of who we are. You said that I'd rather blame an outsider than a Shaker for Julia's murder. It would hurt me deeply if it turned out a Shaker committed this crime, but I would know that he—or she—is not truly a Believer. I would not protect such a person.”

Carlotta's thin, rigid body loosened slightly. “We'd better serve up that jam cake,” she said. “Then I'll answer your questions.”

“Thank you.” Rose realized she'd been tense, as well. Serving the jam cake gave her a chance to relax her shoulders and formulate her questions.

“Leave the dishes awhile,” she told Carlotta, when they'd finished serving. “I'll wash them up later.” They settled back at the kitchen table, now littered with piles of soiled dishes and cutlery. “Do you have any suspicions about who Julia might have been meeting the night she was killed?”

Carlotta's laugh was short and mirthless. “Could have been anyone,” she said, “but it was probably a man. No, I take that back. There's plenty of women mad at Julia, mostly for spending time with their husbands.” Now that she'd overcome her initial distrust, Carlotta seemed more than ready to talk. “Honora, for one,” she said. “Honora Stearn, who's married to that new Shaker, Aldon.”

“Aldon? The minister? Was he involved with Julia?”

“Some minister. Julia wasn't the only girl he had his eye on, though he always claimed they chased after him. I heard that's why he came here, to escape.”

“To escape what? Temptation?”

“Maybe. Or maybe he just wanted to escape that wife of his. She's a nasty piece of work. You'd think she'd be glad to be rid of him, but she sure liked being the minister's wife. It made her feel like she was better than the rest of us.” Carlotta's bitterness honed her voice to a razor-sharp edge. “She doesn't feel so superior now, and she can't stand it. I wouldn't put it past her to kill Julia.”

“Are you certain that Aldon was carrying on an affair with Julia?”

Carlotta hesitated. “Well, I'm not
certain.
I mean, I never actually saw them together since I got here. But I know he was always trying to ‘save' her, back when we went to that church of his.”

“You and Julia were part of Aldon's congregation? Was Dulcie, too?”

“Oh, yeah, and Sewell and Johnny and Theodore—all of us. That's how we all come to know each other so well, we grew up together in that church. Except Esther, she came later. I mean, we were different ages, but we still knew each other. I remember Johnny and Esther were Sunday school teachers. Julia and Dulcie and me, we all had them as teachers some of the time.”

“Did you observe Julia being friendly with anyone else besides Aldon—since you've been here, I mean?”

“Yeah, Sewell, of course. He's friendly with all the girls, but he don't mean nothin' by it. I did see him and Julia go off for a walk together one night after supper. They wasn't hand in hand or anything, but they looked chummy enough to me. I asked Julia about it later, and she just giggled and said that he wasn't a real Shaker yet, so he had some time left for a few sins.”

“What about the other men here? Did you ever see any of them with Julia?”

“Well, all of them, I guess. Julia was friendly, if you know what I mean. I never told Dulcie, but that fiancé of hers, Theodore, I saw him have a couple of talks with Julia. I don't know what that was about, and anyway, he ain't a Shaker, so it ain't against the law or anything. I mean, him and Julia was practically family.”

Carlotta curled a short piece of dark hair around her finger. “Then there's Johnny—you know, Johnny Jenkins, another new Shaker. I saw him talk to Julia, maybe three times. Julia said he was just bossing her around, but I didn't believe her. He's just the sort of man she'd fall for in a big way. He's tall and
so
handsome. Have you seen those shoulders? Oh, I used to just stare at those shoulders when he was my Sunday school teacher.”

Rose knew Carlotta was watching her reaction. She waited, in silence, for Carlotta to go on. It didn't take long; Carlotta was enjoying herself now.

“Julia liked her men rich and important and good-looking. If she couldn't have all three, she'd settle for one while she kept on looking. Johnny, he's good-looking, and he was always figurin' how to get rich. Besides, he's married
and
he's practically a Shaker, and that would've made him real exciting to Julia.”

Rose was aware that time was passing, and Carlotta was speculating wildly. Her information might have some use, but it couldn't be counted on. At least Rose was getting a picture of Julia. Unfortunately, she seemed to have been the kind of girl any number of folks might have wanted, at some time or other, to murder.

“Is there anyone else who might have been involved with—or angry with—Julia?”

“Well, Dulcie and her didn't always get along, but I don't think Dulcie hated her or anything. I mean, not unless Theodore was carrying on with Julia, and Dulcie found out about it. Theodore means more to Dulcie than her own life, practically.”

“And what about you, Carlotta? Did you and Julia get along?”

The hooded look returned to Carlotta's face. “Yeah, we got along fine. We grew up together.”

Rose hesitated. If she confronted Carlotta with the shop­lifting story, she'd probably never get any more information out of her. It was best, she decided, to go elsewhere for information about Carlotta's relationship with Julia.

“That's good,” Rose said. “I'm very grateful for all the information you've shared with me. If you think of anything more, I hope you'll be willing to tell me; anything can be helpful, anything at all. You can call or visit me in my retiring room—even at night, if you think of something that might be useful.”

Carlotta almost smiled. Rose had made her feel important, clearly a rare experience in the young woman's life.

TWELVE

R
OSE SPLASHED SOME WATER ON HER FACE AND LAY ON HER
bed for a few minutes, grateful the long day was coming to an end. After her talk with Carlotta, she had hurriedly washed the dishes and straightened the kitchen, in hopes of a short rest before the evening worship service. However, no sooner had she closed her eyes than she heard a knock on her retiring room door, followed by a creak as her visitor slipped inside.

“Rose? You aren't asleep, are you?” Gennie closed the door behind her and peered into the gloomy room.

“Nay, come in, Gennie.” Rose pulled herself upright. “Have a seat, and tell me why you are still here. I thought we weren't going to meet until early tomorrow morning. I saw you at evening meal, but I assumed Abigail had invited you. Don't you need to get back to the boardinghouse soon?” She hoped Gennie wasn't depending on her for a ride to Pittsfield.

Gennie switched on the light and settled into a short chair next to the small pine desk. “Oh, don't worry about me,” she said airily. “I've got everything all arranged with Abigail, who's already spoken with Fannie. Sewell will drive me back after evening worship, which Abigail invited me to stay for. Then he'll pick me up again tomorrow morning.” Gennie brushed a speck of lint off her wool skirt and cleared her throat.

“What else have you arranged?” Rose asked, resigned to another Gennie-hatched plot.

“It's perfect. Wait till you hear. Abigail said I could bring my things back here tomorrow and room right in this building, with the other hired women. Isn't that wonderful? We can talk anytime we want to. No one will wonder why I'm up here, if I live in the building.”

“Gennie, you know I'm not comfortable having you in the thick of things.”

“Yes, I'm well aware of that,” Gennie said, with dignity. “However, I'll say the same thing to you that I said to Grady before we left—I expect you to treat me like an adult. I'm moving here tomorrow, and that's that.”

Rose's heart was caught somewhere between the sadness of letting Gennie grow up and pride in the young woman she had become. “All right,” she said, “let it be as you wish. Now, go ahead and tell me what you've learned so far.”

When they had shared their information, it was time to leave for the worship service. “After your description, I would like a look at Aldon's wife, Honora,” Rose said, as she stuffed some errant curls back under her cap. “She certainly sounds angry enough to do violence.”

“If she returns to the village, I'll try to get a message to you,” Gennie promised.

By the time they arrived downstairs, at the large meeting room Fannie had designated for the service, everyone else had gathered. Gennie and Rose separated before entering and sat at opposite ends of a semicircle of women, facing a much smaller cluster of men. Rose was surprised and pleased to see both Dulcie and Theodore attending the service, each sitting, as was proper, with the appropriate gender.

In the absence of someone like Elder Wilhelm to lead, the worship seemed tame and gentle. Fannie led them in prayer and several songs, but no one stood for dancing worship. Rose missed the movement, but she was not unappreciative of the quiet. For once, she could send her prayers to Holy Mother Wisdom without half of her mind worrying about what surprises Wilhelm might have in store. She closed her eyes and gave herself up to worship.

The door hinges in Hancock all seemed to need the attention of an oil can. In the second before the worshipers began another song, the squeak of the door from the hallway broke Rose's concentration. She opened her eyes. A tall, middle-aged woman in worldly clothes stood just inside the large double doors, looking around as if seeking a place to sit. Rose supposed she must be a friend of Fannie's; the Hancock sisters had many dealings with the women from Pittsfield, so it wouldn't be surprising if some were invited to share worship with the Believers.

The woman moved forward, her eyes fixed on the men's side of the room. An inkling of doubt entered Rose's mind. Something wasn't right. Gennie glanced up as the woman passed her chair. Gennie's expression changed from polite and somewhat sleepy to excited. Her wide eyes sought out Rose, and her hands twitched as if she wanted desperately to convey a message without standing up and shouting. Rose knew instantly what the message was—this was Honora Stearn, come to claim her husband back from the Shakers. She sent a slight nod of understanding to Gennie, who relaxed.

Honora walked to the center of the room and stood with her back to the women, facing the men. All attempts to carry on the song had faltered, and the worshipers watched as Honora turned to her husband, Aldon. She raised her arm and pointed a long, bony finger at him. The spectacle mesmerized everyone, including Fannie, and no one protested. Even Aldon stared in openmouthed silence.

“You,” Honora said. “You have offended God. You have broken His commandments, and His fury is unleashed.” Her voice was deep and powerful, as if she had studied preaching by listening to her husband's performances in the pulpit. “His wrath will smite you down where you sit.” She spun around until she faced the women. Her face was contorted with rage. “You are jezebels, every one of you. You have conspired to put asunder a man and his wife, who were joined by God, and
you will be punished.
” She poked her finger toward them as she spit out the curse.

The Hancock sisters were used to quiet dealings with the world, and this exhibition was beyond their comprehension. Clearly, no one knew what to do. Their shock had rendered them helpless. Rose, for better or for worse, had more experience with such behavior. Also, she would be gone soon; it would be easier for her to handle the situation. Any resentments would attach to her, not to the Hancock sisters.

As she stood, however, Honora spun again toward the men and pointed at her husband. “There is only one way you can save your wretched soul,” she said to Aldon. Her voice was growing hoarse, and her hand had begun to shake. “You must come with me right now. Return to your marriage bed tonight.”

She walked toward Aldon as if to grab him and force him to come with her. This proved too much for Aldon. He leaped from his chair and lifted it up in front of him. Rose had to stifle a chuckle at this picture—the lion tamer fending off a wild animal gone berserk. The men around Aldon jumped up, as well. The novitiates backed away from her to avoid touching a woman, but Theodore pushed through them toward Honora. Afraid he might handle the distraught woman too forcefully, Rose hurried across the room to stand just behind her.

“Mrs. Stearn, I am Theodore Geist. Do you remember me from church?” Theodore's voice and demeanor were firm. Rose stayed where she was.

“Theodore?” Honora lowered her arm.

“Remember you taught me in Sunday school?”

“Of course I remember you—you were such a good student, always knew your Bible verses perfectly. You aren't—you haven't become one of
them,
have you?” Her voice had dipped again into outrage.

“No, of course not. I just work for them. You know how hard it is to find a job these days.”

Honora nodded sadly.

“I'm getting married soon, you know,” he said. “So I can understand how angry you are. If anyone put me asunder from my wife, I'd . . . well, there's no telling what I'd do. I'd try to leave it up to God, but maybe I wouldn't be strong enough. You know what I mean?”

“Yes,” Honora said. “Yes, indeed. Sometimes you have to remind God. He has so much to watch.”

“Exactly.” Theodore glanced at Rose as if he wanted to tell her something. “But let's just leave it to God this time,” he said to Honora. “I'm sure you got His attention.” He took her firmly by the crook of the elbow and guided her toward the door before she could protest. Within seconds, he had led her into the hallway and closed the door behind them.

After a moment of awkward silence, a sister began a song quickly, and the others joined in, as if the incident hadn't occurred. Much as she wanted to do so, Rose couldn't stay to finish the worship service. She followed Theodore and Honora. By the time she'd shut the door on the singing worshipers, the hallway was empty. Rose threw her cloak around her shoulders and hurried through the women's door to the dwelling house. A brisk snow had been falling for some time, coating the village with thick, wet globs, and making it difficult to see beyond a few dozen yards. Rose swiped at the snow as if to push it aside. The nearby churn of a motor reached her. It seemed to be coming from the small garage just across the path from the Brick Dwelling House. Ignoring the snow that caked her shoes, she ran toward the sound. As she came in view of the entrance, an ancient Model T emerged and skidded toward the main road. Rose recognized the car Brother Ricardo kept for the use of the hired hands. Theodore was behind the wheel, and Honora sat beside him.

Rose watched as the car reached the main road and headed toward Pittsfield. It occurred to Rose to wonder, as the car bounced over ruts in the icy road, how Honora had made the trip to Hancock Village in the first place. According to Gennie, Honora had been mired in poverty since Aldon left, and her clothing showed it, so it was unlikely that she had a car. If she had walked, wouldn't she have been soaked to the bone? Her clothes had been dry, and her cheeks only pale pink, as if she had ridden in a cold car. Had Theodore driven her to Hancock, knowing what was likely to happen? What reason would he—or anyone—have to encourage such a scene? For that matter, how did she get to the Fancy Goods Store on such a regular schedule, as Abigail had told Gennie she did?

 

Rose stripped off her wet clothing and hung it from hangers on pegs to dry overnight. She knew her shoes would still be damp in the morning unless she helped them along, so she had found some rags in the kitchen and now stuffed them into the toes to absorb moisture. She slipped into her warm, blessedly dry winter nightgown and knelt for prayer.

Still shivering, she snuggled under her wool coverlet, closed her eyes, and waited for sleep. And waited. By the time the evening worship service had replayed itself three times in her mind, she accepted defeat. Sleep would elude her until she had organized her thoughts on paper. Giving in to frustration, she yanked the coverlet from her bed, wrapped it around her shoulders, and settled at the small desk in her room. She'd had the forethought to request paper and a pen for her retiring room, so she didn't have to go roaming through the huge, cold dwelling house searching for writing materials.

First, she wrote a list of the folks she or Gennie had met during their first day in Hancock. All of them had known Julia, so she first noted the ones who had an obvious motive. Honora Stearn led the list. Rose suspected that Theodore had been trying to convey that message to her while he was calming Honora. Honora wanted Aldon back, and she thought Julia had tempted him to stray. Had Julia purposely sought the job in the Fancy Goods Shop simply to be near Aldon?

What about Aldon himself? He was a minister of God, but that did not protect him from temptation—or excuse him, if he caved in to it. Had he fallen into the flesh with Julia, either before his conversion to the Shaker faith, or both before and after? His devotion to the Shaker faith seemed genuine, if somewhat harsh, and he might easily become an elder, once he'd signed the Covenant. Would he kill to protect his future in the Society? It seemed farfetched, but not impossible.

Rose had grown fond of Dulcie, and hopeful for her future. Yet, according to Carlotta and to Dulcie herself, she and Julia were not on the best of terms. Otis and Carlotta both suspected Theodore had been too attentive to Julia. Suppose Julia, with her competitive carnal instincts, had set out to seduce her sister's fiancé, just for the sport of it? Would Dulcie have been angry enough to kill her sister—especially to protect her own unborn child? Why had Dulcie rushed to see her sister's body? Did she remove the calico rag because it somehow incriminated her or someone she loved?

Dulcie loved Theodore Geist—or at least she needed him desperately. Theodore clearly considered himself to be upright, a man of high moral character. If he had allowed himself to yield to Julia's charms, might he have killed her in a fit of rage, misdirected at her, rather than at himself? Theodore also needed and valued his job as manager of Hancock's farmhands. If Julia had threatened to reveal his sinfulness, perhaps even threatened blackmail, might he have killed her to keep her silent?

Then there was Carlotta, the source of so much gossipy information about others. She was unwilling to admit to her past troubles with the law, which, according to Dulcie, Julia had led her into. Carlotta was a bitter young woman. How far might her resentment drive her? A woman could certainly have strangled Julia from behind with the fabric of her own dress. But could a woman, especially Carlotta, have persuaded Julia to meet at night in the Summerhouse in a flimsy summer dancing dress?

Sewell Yates. Rose stared at the name. This was the man the police suspected of Julia's murder, and Rose had yet to uncover any evidence to clear him. Of all the men she had met so far, he was most likely, she believed, to have had a carnal relationship with Julia. Something haunted the man, that much was clear. By all accounts, he flirted with the women, seemingly driven to charm even the older sisters. His protestations of chastity were intense, yet somehow unconvincing. Rose felt certain that Sewell had a secret, perhaps of profound depth, which she must discover before she could eliminate him as a suspect—or confirm his guilt.

Finally, Rose listed Johnny and Esther Jenkins. Esther did not really want to be a Shaker sister. She wanted to raise her own children. She might be hoping Johnny would eventually return to her. Julia had set her cap for Johnny, and what Julia wanted, it seemed, Julia got. Suppose Esther considered another woman more of a threat, in the long run, than the Society? From Esther's point of view, six children and her own survival were at stake. Would she have killed Julia, rather than take the chance of losing her ambitious husband to another woman?