Must the Maiden Die (31 page)

No, she didn't know what time it had been.
Only that a humpback moon was climbing into the sky.

What had she done after that?
She
might have slept, because she thought it was a dream where she was
standing over Roland Brant, plunging a knife again and again into
his heart. Blood was spurting everywhere. She didn't know how to
stop it or what to do with the knife. She tried to run, but she
could only take a few steps and, when she looked behind her, she
could see a trail of bloody footprints. It seemed so real. She
didn't remember waking up. And then she thought: What if it hadn't
been a dream?

She was so terrified by what she might have
done that she left the house by way of the kitchen door. No, she
didn't know what time it had been. The sky was barely beginning to
pale and there was mist rising from the grass. She started to run
toward the stable for a horse, when she saw the door of Roland
Brant's library standing open. It frightened her, because the door
was always kept bolted.

What did she think had happened?
She
feared Brant might have gone from the library to the stable
himself—he sometimes took an early ride—so she'd crept along the
house toward the library to see if he was inside.

That was the last thing she could remember
clearly.

But where had she been all that
day—Monday?
She might have run to the stable. But if the stable
boy and groom were there, she would have hidden in the loft. She'd
done that before sometimes. Later she found pieces of straw
clinging to her wool cloak.

Then it had been late afternoon when
she'd taken the horse?
She didn't know. She had a faint memory
of a horse rearing, and of waking up in the swamp. And she had a
picture in her mind of seeing herself above Roland Brant's body.
Her knife, the knife with the bone handle, was in his chest. So
what she had thought was a dream must have been real.

And then Gerard and the dog found her.

"You said Gerard is all right?" Tamar had
again tearfully asked, while the dog lying beside her bed stirred
slightly in his sleep.

"Gerard is fine. And I will do my best to
find the answer to this terrible mystery," Glynis had promised her.
She'd not had the heart to press the girl for more, but simply sat
with her until she had slept.

This morning, directly after the scene with
Neva in the refuge kitchen, she had gone straight to Merrycoyf s
law office. The newspaper was lying open on his desk and Glynis
recounted all that Tamar had said. And only that. Not her own
speculations.

"Jeremiah, is it possible for you to believe
Roland Brant capable of such evil?"

"My dear Miss Tryon, almost anything is
possible to believe when it comes to human depravity. I seem to
recall we have discussed this topic before."

"You must represent the girl," Glynis
said.

"As it happens, Adam already informed me of
the unfortunate Tamar Jager. And I told him, unequivocally, that I
could not represent her. I am retired."

"You are here in your office, Jeremiah!"

"To finish some small items of
business."

"I will never be able to forgive you."

He had peered at her over his wire-rimmed
spectacles. "Are you quite serious, Glynis?"

"Quite serious." She had almost stammered,
so startled was she to hear him use her given name.

"I am too old, my dear, to be dashing to the
defense of maidens in distress."

"If you don't, this maiden may die. Besides,
you are in the pink of health."

"I am tired, which is why I have
retired."

"I will not permit you to set foot in my
library again." A hollow threat, she had realized, since he was on
the library's board of directors. "And I meant what I said,
Jeremiah—I shall never forgive you!"

Thus here they were, shortly past midday on
a warm spring afternoon, seated in the Seneca County Court House in
Waterloo where it had stood for more than half a century. The
generous amount of polished wood trim in the small courtroom
smelled of linseed oil and age.

At last, in the front of the courtroom, a
narrow door to the side of a raised platform swept open to admit
the judge.

"All rise!" called the bailiff. "The
Honorable Tobias Endicott presiding."

And the king said, Bring me a sword. And
they brought a sword before the king. And the king said, Divide the
living child in two, and give half to the one and half to the
other.

—First Book of Kings

Judge Tobias Endicott, a thickset man with
broad forehead and reputation for suffering little foolishness in
his courtroom, strode to the bench with his black judicial robe
swinging about the ankles of his boots. He had more than once
visited Glynis's library, and she liked this intelligent man, not
in spite of but possibly because of the fact that he was known for
an occasional eccentricity. He was also known for his common
sense.

After he put on his spectacles, took them
off and examined them closely, then put them on again, he nodded
to the court clerk. While the clerk came forward to read the
hearing calendar, Judge Endicott briefly scanned the room, and
when his eyes came to rest on Jeremiah Merrycoyf, Glynis caught his
suppressed smile.

"The first item, Your Honor," said the
clerk, "is a request by the deputy coroner of the Village of Seneca
Falls, Dr. Neva Cardoza-Levy, on behalf of the People of New York,
for permission to conduct an autopsy on the deceased Roland Brant.
In opposition to the request for autopsy is the deceased's son
Erich Brant."

"Are both parties here?" asked Judge
Endicott.

"Here, Your Honor."

"Come forward," directed the judge.

Neva rose and started down the short center
aisle. Erich Brant also got to his feet and followed her through a
waist-high, swinging gate. The gate connected two sections of
elaborately carved wood railing, and brought Neva and Erich to
stand before the triple-tiered enclosed bench on the raised front
dais. Both managed to behave as if the other was not there.

"I have read your petition, Dr.
Cardoza-Levy, and your response, Mr. Brant," said Judge Endicott.
"Do you have anything to add, Mr. Brant, to your stated opposition
in this matter?"

"Yes, sir, I do."

"Proceed."

"In the past twenty-four hours, a
confession was made by my father's murderer. That makes the
purpose of an autopsy completely immaterial."

"Now, Mr. Brant," the judge cautioned, "I am
the one to decide what is material or immaterial here. You have
argued in your response that an autopsy is unnecessary because the
cause of your father's death by stabbing is obvious. And that you
object to the desecration of his remains. Do I understand that your
opposition is now based on the recent confession of...whom did you
say?"

It must be, Glynis thought, that His Honor
did not read the Seneca Falls newspaper. A commendable
practice.

"I didn't say, Your Honor, but it’s an
indentured servant girl."

"This servant girl presumably has a
name?"

"Tamar Jager. She has confessed, sir, to
stabbing my father. It was in this morning's newspaper," he
added.

"Are you relying for information on a
newspaper?"
Judge Endicott scowled, removing his spectacles
to dangle them from his hand.

Erich recovered rapidly. "No, sir. Her
confession was heard by Constable Stuart, as well as by two
deputies of the Seneca County Sheriff's Office, and the members of
a search party. She was captured, Your Honor, while trying to
escape."

Glynis heard from behind her a soft intake
of breath, and turned to see an elegantly dressed Elise Jager just
entering the courtroom. She appeared to be alone and seated
herself across the aisle, several rows behind Glynis. A man then
also entered, but Glynis, afraid of missing something, turned back
to face the bench before taking the stranger's measure.

"Dr. Cardoza-Levy," the judge inquired while
replacing his spectacles, "in view of this recent development, are
you prepared to withdraw your request?"

"No, I am not."

Neva looked too small, Glynis thought as she
often did, to be possessed of such a robust voice. Her words
carried as clearly as the peal of a bronze bell.

Judge Endicott studied her over his
spectacles, and then shuffled through a sheaf of papers. After a
minute or two, he said, "I must tell you, Doctor, that if a
confession of stabbing has been made—and you have stated here in
your petition that there was a knife in the body of the
deceased
—
I can hardly see reason for an autopsy."

"Your Honor, first I wish to address the
confession of Tamar Jager."

Glynis shifted uneasily in her chair. She
was still worried, considering this morning's argument, that Neva
would try to claim that Brant's murder might have been justified by
reason of rape.

"Very well, Doctor, address the confession,"
allowed Judge Endicott.

"The girl was in shock when she was brought
to my dispensary. I don't know when that so-called confession was
made, but in my opinion, my patient at the time may well have been
delirious. Few people would be capable of rational thought
immediately following a serious injury."

"What kind of injury?"

"She was shot, Your Honor."

"That doesn't mean," Erich Brant protested,
"that she didn't know what—"

"Mr. Brant," interrupted Judge Endicott.
"When I want your opinion I will so inform you."

Erich's rigid posture indicated his
displeasure, but he gave the judge a brief nod.

Judge Endicott, now frowning, asked, "Who
brought the Jager girl to your dispensary, Doctor?"

"Constable Cullen Stuart and his
deputy."

"Constable Stuart, please come forward,"
directed the judge.

When Cullen stood before him, Judge Endicott
said, "Please enlighten me, Constable. What is the background of
this situation?"

Glynis listened as Cullen related the search
for Tamar Jager. It coincided with what Zeph had told her.

"And, as I described, Your Honor, she was
wounded by the bounty hunter," Cullen concluded.

Judge Endicott's frown deepened as he asked,
"Would you be able to state, Constable, as Dr. Cardoza-Levy has
claimed, that the suspect was in shock when you first saw her?"

"I think she probably was, yes."

"And when she made the confession?"

"I wouldn't call it a straightforward
confession, Your Honor."

"What would you call it?"

"Some phrases spoken by a very sick
girl."

Bless Cullen, Glynis thought, with a glance
at Erich Brant. He looked angry, but then he always did.

Judge Endicott sighed deeply, removed the
spectacles again, and rubbed the bridge of his prominent nose.
"Very well, Constable, that will be all for now."

As Cullen went back to his seat, the judge
said, "Now, Dr. Cardoza-Levy, your petition states that you
observed two different wounds on the body of the deceased Roland
Brant. Explain the particulars of that observation."

"There was a knife protruding from the
deceased's chest in the area of the heart. There was also a
substantial bruise on the left temple. The bruise was made, I
believe, by a small blunt object—which has not to my knowledge been
identified."

Both Neva and Judge Endicott looked at
Cullen.

"It hasn't been clearly identified," Cullen
agreed.

"Either of those injuries," Neva continued,
"could conceivably have caused Roland Brant's death. An autopsy
should indicate which one
did
cause death, and possibly
which blow was struck first. It might also answer the question of
who would have been able to inflict such injury on a strong, and to
all appearances healthy, man. Also, the deceased's body was not
discovered for some time—or so we have been led to believe," she
added, provoking a scowl from Erich. "An autopsy would allow the
time of death to be, if not fixed absolutely, at least narrowed
down. As it is now, we are simply speculating about an
unknown."

Judge Endicott replaced his spectacles and
when he looked down at Neva, he was again frowning. "Are you
suggesting, Doctor, that there could be viable suspects in this
murder other than the servant girl?"

Glynis waited, increasingly alarmed at a
possible revisitation of Neva's rape defense. She thus heard with
relief a simple, "I believe there are, yes, Your Honor."

A few rows ahead of Glynis, a stout figure
heaved himself out of his chair. "Your Honor," said Merrycoyf, "may
I have permission to approach the bench?"

"Yes, indeed, Mr. Merrycoyf," said the
judge.

As the lawyer lumbered forward, Judge
Endicott commented, "When I saw you earlier, Mr. Merrycoyf, I
thought perhaps you were here for sentimental reasons. But it would
seem that rumors of your retirement have been premature."

"No, Your Honor," Merrycoyf replied as he
went through the gate, "they were not rumors, nor were they
premature. But I have this morning been beseeched, not to say
besieged, by my dear friend Miss Glynis Tryon to emerge
temporarily from retirement."

Glynis felt all eyes turn to her and wanted
to sink beneath the floor. Merrycoyf, who knew her all too well,
was exacting his small measure of recompense. She tried to hide her
embarrassment by meeting Judge Endicott's bemused gaze with a
bemused one of her own.

"I must offer my apologies to the court for
a lack of preparedness," Merrycoyf explained. "I was retained by
Miss Tryon to represent the aforementioned Tamar Jager only shortly
before departing Seneca Falls. Thus I have not met my client, nor
have I talked with the young lady. But I have been well informed
of her need for counsel by Miss Tryon."