Must the Maiden Die (35 page)

Immediately Glynis arrived at what she knew
was an utterly groundless conclusion: a man who read Shakespeare
could not be all bad. "Can you guess what she might have meant?"
she asked him.

"I think so. I told her the next day that
she'd had a few splotches of blood on her hands when I found her,
but that they were probably from an open cut on her own arm. She
seemed relieved."

As was Glynis. It had been the last obstacle
to believing Tamar innocent.

"But I couldn't help with her other
nightmare," Gerard went on. "She kept saying over and over 'Don't
hurt me.'"

His tone held a growing anger. He didn't
bother to restrain it when he said, "At first, she was terrified of
me, backing away and cringing every time I came anywhere near her.
I guessed right away that someone had hurt her badly. May I assume,
Miss Tryon, you know what I mean by that?"

Glynis wondered how much to confirm. The man
was intelligent, and he had already recognized the substance of his
speculation. Her hesitation was for Tamar's sake, but she decided
that she couldn't know what was best for the girl. And that the
truth was not negotiable. "Yes, I know what you mean, and I'm
afraid you're right," she said at last. "Tamar told me some of
it."

"That swine Brant did it! Didn't he?" Gerard
demanded, leaping to his feet. "I should have killed him months
ago!"

The rage in his voice brought Zeph racing
down the hall, his revolver drawn.

"There's no danger, Zeph," Glynis insisted
as the deputy stood there with his gun trained on Gerard. "And he
has every reason to be angry."

"Not with you, he doesn't."

"It has nothing to do with me," she assured
him, thankful that Gerard was now silent. Not that he had to say
anything; his eyes were fierce, his fury all too evident.

"You finished, Miss Tryon?" Zeph asked, his
eyes still fixed on Gerard.

"No, I'm not. Would you please go back to
the office?"

"Nope."

Glynis had guessed as much, and turned to
Gerard. "Mr. Gagnon, Brant is dead. What he did can't be undone.
But if you care for Tamar, you have to try to look, both of you,
beyond the past. He's
dead!"

She could see Zeph's confusion, but this was
not the time for explanation. "I have one more question, Mr.
Gagnon."

He had been standing with his back to her,
and when he turned, the rage was still there, but she could see
that he was controlling it.

"All right, yes, what is it?" he said
distractedly.

Zeph had stepped back into the hall where he
stood watching Gerard's every move.

"It's about your father's factory," Glynis
said, aware that by asking she risked another outburst, but she
needed to know. "When Roland Brant foreclosed, did he give any
indication what the building would be used for?"

"Not to me," Gerard said, his voice tight
but steadier than Glynis had expected. "Why are you asking?"

"When did Roland Brant actually take
possession of it?"

"Four months ago."

"So... early February of this year?"

"Yes! Why, what does it matter?"

"Because it's located across the canal from
my library, and it occurred to me earlier today that I've never
seen much activity over there."

"Could be it's standing empty," Gerard said
bitterly. "Roland Brant just took pleasure in grinding people under
his heel."

***

Standing with Zeph outside Cullen's office, Glynis
looked across the canal at the stone warehouse.

"Zeph, do you think Gerard Gagnon is a
killer?"

"If he's not, he does a pretty good
impression of one!"

"Perhaps. But rage doesn't necessarily lead
to violent action. I suppose you have to tell Cullen about that
incident back there?"

"Yes."

"Of course," Glynis sighed. "Well, for what
it's worth, it was my fault. I brought up something almost certain
to make Gerard, or anyone, enraged. And he didn't try to attack me.
Or you either, Zeph."

"I had a gun."

"So did that bounty hunter."

Zeph scuffed at some loose dirt with the toe
of his boot, and then said, "Yeah, but Gagnon knew my gun was
already loaded.

Glynis, shaking her head, sighed again. And
thought that before much more time passed, someone should take a
look at that warehouse.

Over 3,000 men from Seneca County took part
in the [Civil] War and many branches of the services were
represented. Companies A, C, and K of the New York 33rd were
comprised of men from Seneca County, most of them from Seneca Falls
and Waterloo.

—From
Seneca County History,
edited
by Betty Auten

Glynis finished dressing by slipping into a pale
green muslin frock, then went to open her bedroom curtains. Clouds
like mounds of white popped corn moved across a bright morning sky
on what was surely the last day Emma could make a decision about
whether the wedding would take place. But if she called it off, it
was too late to reach those out of town; her father and brothers
would have already caught the train from Springfield, Illinois.
Glynis herself had been too tired to lie awake all night worrying.
Though she had stared at the moon-streaked ceiling of her bedroom
and fretted for some time about maidens Emma and Bronwen and
Tamar. At least when sleep came, it had been sound.

She left her room and on the way to the
stairs heard hammering, as well as several male voices coming from
the direction of the Usher house next door. Glynis stepped to the
hall window and looked out. The Usher grounds had taken on the
appearance of a fairyland. The flowering trees, standing like
mannequins dressed in voluminous pink-and-white ruffled petticoats,
encircled an open area of grass sprinkled with white violets. In
the center of the grassed circle, what looked to be a latticed arch
some eight or nine feet high was being constructed with supple
poplar slats. Vanessa, resplendent in a scarlet gown, stood
directing the production. Pastel shades of the tree blossoms,
shrubs, and flower beds resembled the lovely misty landscapes of
Oneida County artist Charlotte Coman, but it was the color of
Vanessa's gown that drew Glynis's eyes like moths to a flame.

A half-formed image rose in her mind, but
before it could take shape, she was distracted by movement below.
Only then did she see the two figures who stood close together
among the pines growing between the Usher and Peartree properties.
While the couple might have taken pains to remove themselves from
Vanessa's view, they must have forgotten the Peartree windows. Or
perhaps, Glynis smiled, they were too involved to think of anything
other than each other. When the two merged in an embrace, she
backed away from the window and took her time descending the
stairs.

After she had walked out the front door and
around the house, she signaled her approach with an overly hearty
"Good morning!"

Emma gave a start, but Adam, as if she might
slip away like Cinderella at midnight, kept one arm locked around
her waist. If Glynis had any remaining doubt, her niece's radiant
face confirmed there would be a wedding on the morrow.

"Good morning, Aunt Glynis." Emma greeted
her in joyous voice. "Just see what Adam has brought me."

Adam stood grinning at Glynis as Emma handed
her what looked like a slim volume of bound gilt-edged pages. Its
maroon leather cover announced in gold embossed letters that here
was a copy—albeit a very expensive one—of New York State's Chapter
90 law. Glynis experienced an odd prickle of
deja vu,
but
did not let on that she had just recently become acquainted with
some of this document.

"A highly unique and stylish wedding
present, Adam, I must say," Glynis commented with a smile.

"I thought you'd approve, Aunt Glynis,"
answered Adam, and Emma gave a delighted laugh.

"She
is
your Aunt Glynis now, isn't
she," Emma said to him, "or almost." She moved to stand beside
Glynis, lifted the title page and pointed to Section 1. "Look, Aunt
Glyn, there it is!"

Glynis read the entire section which began
by stating, in effect, that any property of a woman, no matter how
she came by it,
shall, notwithstanding her marriage, be and
remain her sole and separate property and may be used, collected
and invested by her in her own name; and shall not be subject to
the interference or control of her husband.

"It's all there in black and white—and
gold," Emma sighed. "I am just so happy!" She gave Adam a smile
laced with love. "And just look at what Miss Usher has done," she
said to Glynis, turning toward fairyland. "Have you ever,
ever,
seen anything like it?"

Glynis could truthfully say that she had
not. "When are your father and brothers arriving?" she asked.

"Papa's telegram said four this
afternoon—Adam and I will meet the train. They'll be staying at
Carr's Hotel, and so will...everybody!" Emma exclaimed with a
breathless, child-like excitement, as if she were just now
beginning to enjoy the prospect of her wedding. "And Cousin Kathryn
sent a wire from New York City saying her train arrives at five.
This is going to be such wonderful fun!"

Glynis, smiling at Emma's infectious joy,
hoped against hope that she wouldn't inquire after her cousin
Bronwen. Perhaps a change of subject was needed.

"Adam, do you expect to see Gerard Gagnon
today?" Glynis asked.

"I talked to Cullen first thing this
morning," he said. "Told him I didn't want to spend the day before
my wedding preparing a writ of
habeas corpus
, but I would if
necessary. Cullen said I needn't bother. He'll not press the other
charges. He does, though, have cause to hold Gagnon a while longer
on suspicion of Roland Brant's murder. And I can't do a thing about
that."

Emma seemed not to notice these asides,
perhaps because she was entranced by watching huge sprays of
fragrant, mock orange blossoms being carried across the Usher yard.
They would probably be used to decorate the nearly completed
arch.

She turned to Glynis, who was backing away
toward the Peartree kitchen and the smell of coffee—but not fast
enough. "Aunt Glyn, where's Cousin Bronwen?" she asked. "I didn't
see her at all yesterday."

Glynis supposed she could tell Emma that her
cousin was off ballooning for the United States Treasury
Department, but it would sound too bizarre to be believable.

"I would guess," she answered, "that Bronwen is
busily flying around to complete some unfinished tasks. I imagine
she'll appear any time now."

One could do no more than hope.

***

After she stopped at the library to reassure
Jonathan that she would at some time actually return to work there,
Glynis went to the lockup, where she again found only Zeph in
Cullen's office.

Predicting what Glynis would ask, he said
"Dr. Cardoza-Levy is doing the Brant autopsy right now."

"Where is Constable Stuart?"

"Gone out to Tyre. Couple of men got knifed
there last night in a tavern brawl."

"And Liam?"

"Up the river a ways. Some canal worker
reported a stolen mule."

"So you're the only one here."

"I'm it. Why?" Zeph asked, giving her a
searching look; searching until it turned suspicious. "You planning
to do something?" He regarded her now with an expression that
verged on alarm.

"Nothing that need concern you," Glynis said
firmly.

It was essential that she go to the Brant
house, and what with her family arriving later in the day, she
needed to do it now. With a rented carriage, she could leave and
return before anyone missed her.

***

It was only a short time later when the
buggy from Boone's Livery jounced up the Brants' gravel drive.
Glynis slowed the gray mare when ahead of her she heard voices,
pounding noises, and the clatter of a wagon. Surely, she prayed,
that wagon could not be coming toward her down the narrow drive.
She listened for a minute and realized it sounded too far away. But
what was going on at the house? Only one way to learn, she decided,
and urged the mare forward.

Cullen would not approve her doing this
alone, but since there was no one available to go with her, she had
little choice. Not if she were to locate what she needed before it
was found by someone else. If that hadn't already been done. But
she relied on her belief that no one but she—she and Tamar—would
know of it.

The buggy rounded the last curve of drive,
and when Glynis looked ahead at the Italianate house, it was clear
that she could not have picked a worse time. A two-horse dray
wagon, on the side of which was painted
property of seneca
county
, stood in front of the porch steps. Two men were
stringing a rope between wooden stakes that another two men were
pounding into the ground. They were apparently intending this rope
barrier to surround the house.

Glynis, puzzled and somewhat apprehensive,
pulled the mare to a stop. It was crucial that she gain access to
the house unnoticed, but how could she with the men there? And now
she recognized the burly frame and iron-gray hair of the Seneca
County sheriff, Matt Fowler. He was standing on the porch, leaning
against a pillar. His presence further complicated things, for she
recalled he had the eyesight of an eagle.

She sat revising her original plan until her
curiosity became too strong to contain a second longer. After
climbing from the buggy, she lifted out of it a large, empty wicker
basket, then tethered the mare to a fence post and walked to the
house, carrying the basket by its curved handle.

"Morning, Miss Tryon."

"Good morning, Sheriff Fowler," she
answered, looking up at him from the foot of the steps. "I fear
I've come at an inconvenient time."