Cradle to Grave (21 page)

“My cousin will come for a few weeks to help him.” She frowned unhappily. “But my uncle doesn't like her; he says she isn't biddable, so I'll be back with him as soon as I can be.”

After she left a message for her husband, Maartje swathed herself in her gray cloak and followed Rees and Lydia from the house. The two women squeezed in together and Rees, feeling rather like a coachman, whipped Ares up into a trot.

They all could hear Mr. Gray bellowing for Maartje as soon as they approached his house. Maartje sighed again. Rees jumped down and went around to help her alight. He allowed the women to precede him down the path. Their cloaks, one the color of a ripe cranberry, the other a bright gray, made vivid spots of color against the white of the snow.

“Maartje,” Mr. Gray bawled from the kitchen. “Maartje.” She quickly threw her cloak onto a peg and hurried in to her uncle. He was sitting in almost the same position as he had been at Rees's last visit. “Where have you been?” the old man shouted. “I'm hungry.”

“We kept her late,” Rees shouted in reply. Mr. Gray looked at him.

“Lights. Lights in the church,” Mr. Gray bellowed. “Those boys are sneaking inside and smoking again. The damn building will burn.” Rees turned to Maartje for clarification.

“Some of the local boys, those Baker boys mostly, sneak into the church when Reverend Vermette is away on his circuit,” she explained.

“I'll take a look,” Rees said.

“What's upstairs?” Lydia asked as Rees headed for the front door.

“Bedrooms. My uncle's bedroom. Of course, he hasn't been up there in several years.”

Even from the front hall Rees heard Maartje's sigh and Lydia's quick expression of sympathy. Then he closed the door behind him, shutting off all but a murmur of the conversation inside.

He walked around the house and started for the line of evergreens separating the two properties and the break between the trees that marked a path. He soon had cause to regret his decision; the fresh untrodden snow reached past his knees. But he floundered through it, almost falling when he staggered into the ditch separating the two properties, and fighting his way through the shrubbery at the back of the church. To his surprise, a small lean-to was nestled into the pines at the corner and Vermette's rawboned gray munched hay inside. Rees looked at the horse thoughtfully a moment before putting his feet upon the icy footpath leading up to the back door.

When he entered through the back door, he found himself standing on one side of the church. Reverend Vermette was in the pulpit. The main door was behind the pews on Rees's right. “Reverend Vermette,” he said. “I thought you were riding the circuit.” The man jumped and screamed like a girl, dropping the candlestick to the floor with a crash.

“Mr. Rees,” Vermette said, clutching at his chest. “What are you doing here?”

“Mr. Gray said he's been seeing lights in the church. I came to investigate. Was it you?” Rees walked forward so he could better see Vermette's face in the gloom. The pastor was unshaven, his linen neck cloth grubby and carelessly tied.

“Not me. I just arrived about an hour ago. I haven't even visited Miss Pike or gone home yet.” He descended the few steps to the floor. “Those Baker boys could benefit from a good whipping!” He looked at Rees. “They hole up in the church and smoke and drink and generally carry on. I've spoken to Mr. Baker more than once.” His lips tightened and he threw back the hair hanging over his forehead with an impatient gesture.

“I'll reassure Mr. Gray,” Rees said.

“No need. I'll stop by before I go home.”

“Will?” Lydia came through the double doors at the front. “I brought the buggy around.” She stopped when she saw Vermette.

“Mrs. Rees,” he said, moving toward her. “How nice to see you again. And without the children.” He smiled. “Please forgive me for scolding them at services.” He hurried toward her, his hands outstretched. “Have you had an opportunity to call upon Miss Pike? I know she would truly enjoy speaking with you.” Reaching her, he grasped her hands.

“No,” said Lydia, nonplussed. “I've been very busy.” She carefully removed her gloved fingers from his grasp. Rees, who'd followed the preacher through the church to the door, walked around him and stood shoulder to shoulder with his wife. In the light streaming in through the front doors, Rees saw cigar butts scattered upon the floor and a number of ugly black burns on the floor by the front door. Reverend Vermette followed his gaze and scowled with frustration.

“I must talk to Mr. Baker immediately,” he said. Turning back to Lydia, he said, “I'll suggest Miss Pike call on you.”

“No, no,” Lydia said hastily. Rees knew she was thinking, as he was, of the chaotic cabin in which they now lived. “When is she at home?”

“Usually every afternoon.”

“I will make calling upon her an immediate priority,” Lydia said. Rees stared at her. He had never heard that professionally polite tone of voice from her before. “And now.” Lydia extended her gloved hand to Reverend Vermette. He had no more touched her fingers when she withdrew her hand and turned to her husband. Recognizing his cue, he took her arm and escorted her from the church to the buggy she had drawn up to the gate.

As he assisted her over the high step, he said, “I see you do not like Reverend Vermette.”

“No, not him. It is Miss Pike I do not care for,” Lydia replied. “But I see I have no choice.” She sighed. “I shall be forced to call upon Miss Pike upon your return with the buggy from Albany.”

Chapter Eighteen

Although the morning was rapidly disappearing, Lydia insisted they drive to Mount Unity to visit Mouse. “We're already out. And she will want to know you're still working to prove her innocence.”

“If you think it necessary,” Rees said. “I'll be gone for only a few days.”

“She'll want to know,” Lydia repeated. So Rees yielded.

This time, although they drove directly to the Second Family courtyard and introduced themselves to a Brother immediately, they waited a long time before one of the younger Sisters arrived to guide them to the apartment on the second floor of the Meeting House. Then they waited in the small front hall for another twenty or so minutes, until Elder Herman finally appeared.

“I apologize,” Herman said. “I was in the cow barn.”

“I'm sorry,” Rees said. “My wife and I thought we should tell Mouse I'll be away for a few days. In Albany, as part of my search for Mrs. Whitney's murderer.” Herman inclined his head but did not speak.

“How is she?” Lydia asked. “Mouse, I mean.”

“Resigned, I suppose. She spends most of her time alone in her room. Spinning and weaving.” He paused. “I daresay she'll be glad to see you.”

“I expect she will,” Lydia said, not very civilly.

“Mouse is not accustomed to being alone,” Rees said.

“I know.” Herman met Rees's gaze. “But this isn't jail, either.” His gentle reproof silenced both Rees and Lydia.

After a pause, Rees said, “Have you had any additional trouble here?”

Herman shook his head. “On Saturday night a group of drunken men rode by our community. But they didn't come past the fence. So far, we are not being blamed.” He sounded surprised. “And since then the weather has been so harsh.” He stopped and looked toward the stairs.

In the sudden quiet, Rees heard footsteps. A Sister with fair hair and a demure expression arrived first. She stood aside with her eyes lowered while Mouse ran up behind her. “Good news?” she cried. Her eyes were clear and her expression was calm. She smiled at Rees and Lydia.

Rees, surprised to see Mouse so serene, glanced at Lydia.

“Will is going to Albany to research Olive Tucker's will,” she told Mouse.

“Why? Maggie was confident her aunt Olive had left the farm to her.”

“I want to confirm the— Wait. What? You spoke with Maggie during your visit? I thought you said she was passed out in the other room?”

“No, no, I spoke to her. When the Sister and I delivered the basket, Maggie was sober and we talked briefly. And when we went to visit the second time, well, she was…” She paused and Rees could see her struggling for an appropriate word. “Tipsy. But we spoke for a little while.”

Lydia took one look at Rees's expression and asked quickly, “What did you talk about?”

“About a man she expected to marry her.”

“Did she tell you his name?” Rees didn't care that he sounded abrupt. “Was he married? Or important in the town? He might then have a very good reason to kill Maggie.”

Mouse shook her head in dismay. “No. And I tried not to listen.”

“Did she talk about anything else?”

“She was planning to apply to some of her friends and her brother for the tax money,” Mouse said, staring over Rees's head as she cast her mind back. “I felt sorry for her. She was so afraid the selectmen would turn her and her children out of the cabin if she couldn't pay her taxes.” Her mouth turned down in sympathy. “But mostly she talked about that man.”

“And there was no hint as to his identity?” Rees persisted.

Mouse shook her head and then paused, thinking. “She may have been talking about two men. I don't know. She referred to the one she had always loved. But then she talked about her last chance at marriage. Maybe it was one man.”

Rees regarded Mouse in frustration. “You have no idea who that man, or men, might be?” He paused and suggested carefully, “Perhaps the local pastor?”

Mouse shrugged. “I'm not sure.”

“How long will you remain in Albany?” asked Elder Herman.

“Just a day or so,” Rees said. “I should return to Dover Springs on Thursday.”

“Will you visit me again?” Mouse spoke in a low voice, but she turned an anxious face toward Rees.

“Yes,” he said, adding for the Elder's benefit, “I'll probably have more questions for you.”

“If you must,” Herman said without enthusiasm.

“We know we are interrupting your work,” Lydia said, leaning forward. “But we need Mouse's help.”

The Elder said nothing.

“Will you bring the children with you the next time you come?” Mouse asked.

Rees looked at Elder Herman's expression. “I doubt it.”

“We took them to the log church,” Lydia said. Rees recounted the tale of the memorial service. Mouse laughed until she hiccoughed and even Herman smiled.

“So inappropriate in a church,” Mouse said. “Oh, I miss them so much.”

“They miss you, too,” Lydia said, laying her hand upon Mouse's. Mouse turned her hand over and clutched at Lydia.

“I am so grateful,” Mouse said, her voice breaking. “Thank you.”

“We are happy to help you,” Lydia said.

They passed the last few minutes of their visit talking about the children and the cabin, and then Lydia and Rees took their leave. On their way out, the Sister handed over a large brown paper parcel tied with cord. “For the children,” she said. While Lydia tore the package open to look inside, Rees drove back to Dover Springs in silence, pondering Mouse's surprising revelation. He would have to speak to her again, and press her to remember everything she could about the identity of that man—or men.

*   *   *

By daybreak on Wednesday morning, Rees was on his way to Albany. Within an hour or so he reached the post road. He saw less traffic than he expected, and he recalled Cooper telling him that most transportation went by way of the frozen river during the winter. The snowy surface had been smoothed and flattened by a roller so, although the road was icy and somewhat rutted, the traveling went faster than Rees anticipated. He approached the outskirts of the city within a few hours, and by mid-morning he was within sight of the city limits.

The first task: finding a tavern or inn. Rees planned to spend the night before heading back to Dover Springs the following day. He didn't want to leave Lydia alone for too long. And a tavern keeper would most likely know the directions to both the courthouse and to the Van Blau family.

He stopped at the first post house he saw. A handsome stone building on the southern side of Market Street, it looked like it had been there for forty or fifty years. The wooden sign was probably as old, and although it now read
THE KING'S HEAD
, with a bloody severed head pictured, Rees could still read the word
ARMS
underneath the newer paint. The thrifty tavern keeper had reused the original sign.

The yard around the building was already busy with horses and a variety of vehicles. Wondering if he would find room here, Rees tied Ares to the post and went inside.

The aromas of bacon and coffee tantalized his nose as he entered the large common room. A corpulent man, his shuddering belly swathed by a stained apron, hurried to Rees's side. “I am Mr. Witherspoon. Breakfast?”

“Yes. I think so.” Although Rees had eaten breakfast at home, the meal seemed many hours ago. “Do you have any room for the night?”

The tavern keeper hesitated for a moment, thinking. “I believe so. Several of the gentlemen are leaving today. But you will have to share.”

Rees's heart sank to his boots. He did not care to share his bed with a stranger. Still, this would be only for one night, or two at the most, so he nodded in agreement.

“Breakfast first,” Mr. Witherspoon said, gesturing to the tables behind him. Rees spotted a vacant seat and squeezed himself into it. A mug of coffee, so strong it looked like ink, appeared before him. He dropped in a sliver of the sugar and a long pull of cream and took a gulp. Now that was coffee. Most men drank ale or whiskey, but Rees disliked the latter and considered the former more of a dinner beverage.

He had arrived late for breakfast. While he tucked into his plate of steak and bacon with a slice of bread to soak up the grease, the chairs around him began emptying. The men were leaving for their day's toil. By the time he wiped his plate clean, he was almost alone.