Cradle to Grave (35 page)

“What will it take?” Rees asked angrily. “The entire town watching Vermette hold a gun to my head?” Realizing that every man in the tavern was watching him, Rees jumped to his feet and stamped out. He drove home in a temper.

*   *   *

“I don't know what else to do,” Rees confessed to Lydia that night. The children had been put to bed, and Rees and Lydia sat at the table.

“Don't be discouraged,” she said, putting a hand over his. “You'll…” They both heard the hoofbeats at the same time.

“What's that?” Lydia looked at Rees with wide eyes. “Not Mouse again, not after she promised.”

He rose to his feet. The sound of horse hooves had stopped, but no one came to the door and knocked. He used his sleeve to scrub a hole in the moisture covering the window. He could see nothing. Adrenaline burned down his back and his stomach tightened. This was no casual visitor. Rees wanted to swear and pound the wall: his rifle was out in the lean-to. He had not thought he would need it in a houseful of children.

With a crack that echoed from the surrounding hill, a gun was fired and a ball thudded into the door. Rees jumped away from the wall, his heartbeat hammering in his chest. Was it someone who wanted to silence him forever? Or just warn him? He flung the door open. While the shooter reloaded, Rees would have a few seconds to run to the lean-to and get his rifle. Crouching low, he sprinted. It was even darker in the lean-to, but he had learned long ago how to load his rifle under any conditions. When he peered around the wall, he saw nothing. The horse and rider had retreated, down the slope of the drive into the concealing darkness of the road.

This time when he heard the echoing thud of hooves coming up the drive, he raced outside and lifted the rifle to his shoulder. Cooper and his rawboned horse appeared out of the darkness.

“Jesus,” Rees gasped. “I almost shot you. Why didn't you come inside before?”

“Before? I just arrived.” Cooper dismounted as Rees stared at him in horror. “But there was someone else here. He galloped off down the road as I came up to the drive. Why?”

“Nothing,” Rees lied, the gun dropping from his trembling hand. He bent down and retrieved it. “Nothing at all. But I hope you have good news for me. This needs to be resolved.” Before the killer threatened Lydia and these children again.

Cooper came in, nodding politely to Lydia.

“Would you like something to eat?” she asked him. “I fear we have nothing to drink.”

“No thank you,” he replied, although Rees felt certain he would have accepted whiskey. Rees gestured to the table, and they sat.

“I spoke to the Reverend and Miss Pike,” Cooper said with a grimace. “He swears he never experienced sexual congress with Maggie.”

“Then he's a liar,” Rees said. “Maggie was pregnant again.”

“But he admits he and Maggie had formed a connection and were discussing marriage when he met his dear Miss Pike.”

“Poor Maggie,” Lydia said in a low voice. For a moment, both Rees and Cooper were silent. Rees recalled Randall's daughter describing Maggie's despair and wondered if Vermette had just told her he planned to marry Miss Pike. Maggie must have already known she was pregnant. Still, despite her disappointments and personal sorrow, she hadn't given up her quest to secure the future of the cottage and protect her children. Rees admired her for that.

“And the Bible?” Rees asked.

“He said it didn't belong to him. Miss Pike claims to have given several away in town, all signed by the Reverend, of course.” Cooper shrugged.

“You believe him?” Rees asked, wondering if he was attaching too much importance to the bloodstained Bible.

“You don't, I see,” Cooper replied with a mocking smile. Rees bit the inside of his lip so he would not shout at the constable.

“He didn't sign mine,” Lydia said, holding out the Bible given her by Miss Pike. Cooper shrugged. The fire snapped, sending a shower of glittering sparks up the chimney and illuminating her hair, touching it with gold. Rees knew he couldn't take even the slightest chance of losing her. The murderer had to be publicly identified, and quickly.

“So if Vermette is not the murderer, then who do you think it is?” Rees asked.

“I don't know.” Cooper sounded glum. “We may never solve Maggie's murder.” His mouth curled in distaste. “As I left, Vermette and Miss Pike were swearing undying love for one another. Disgusting.”

“I'll walk you out,” Rees said. A plan was beginning to form in his mind, but he didn't dare share it with anyone. At least not yet. And especially not with Lydia. He knew she would not agree.

“I'm sorry,” Cooper said, rising to his feet. Rees nodded brusquely and followed the constable into the cold air.

“Tomorrow morning,” Rees said, as soon as the door closed behind him. “I will be in the log meetinghouse praying for guidance. Maybe God can help me find the answer.”

*   *   *

Rees slept poorly that night, rifle by his side, waking at every sound. He was glad to see the first gray light of dawn creeping through the windows. After breakfast, and without telling Lydia where he was headed, he went outside and dragged the scarecrow from the field. He put it in the buggy and drove to the log meetinghouse. Then he cut through the shrubbery separating the church from Mr. Gray's house. Rees went up to the front door, but this time he did not knock. With the memory of Vermette's monastic bedchamber in the inn clear in his thoughts, he opened the door as quietly as he could and tiptoed inside. Although Mr. Gray was deaf and most likely would not hear Rees, it was possible the elderly man had visitors. Rees did not want to explain his suspicion that Reverend Vermette had been using Mr. Gray's house for his assignations with Maggie until he was sure it was true. Rees paused on the stairs and listened. He could hear the old man moving about in the kitchen, but Mr. Gray gave no sign of knowing anyone else was in the house. Rees tiptoed upstairs, to the back room with its collection of girlish clothing and toys, and quickly slipped inside. Once the door was closed, Rees paused in the center of the floor and tried to remember this room as he'd first seen it. The canvas valise had been positioned at the foot of the cot.

A woman's voice sounded from the front door and was quickly followed by a heavy slam. Rees waited a few moments and then tiptoed to the landing and peered over the bannister. “How are you, uncle?” the woman asked brightly. Rees thought it might be Maartje. “I've brought my maid to help me today.”

“You're late,” Mr. Gray snarled in loud reply.

Rees descended the stairs as quietly as he could. When he glanced at the pegs by the door he saw Maartje's gray wool cloak. He slipped out the front door and knocked, as if he'd only just arrived. Maartje opened the door.

“You again,” she said with a frown. “My uncle is eating breakfast.”

“I need the key to the meetinghouse,” Rees said. “I found something that suggests the identity of the murderer, and I must pray to God for guidance.”

“I would not have taken you for a churchgoing man,” Maartje said, staring at Rees in astonishment. “Come inside.” She preceded him into the kitchen.

Rees nodded to the old man. “Good morning, Mr. Gray,” he said.

“Here is the key.” Maartje lifted it from a hook on the wall. The kitchen already exhibited signs of her work: the dishes were done and drying upon a towel, the spiderwebs were down, and the table was scrubbed. Rees reached out for the key, never removing his gaze from the man seated by the window. He could not conceive of Mr. Gray fathering Judah.

“What is your connection to Maggie Whitney?” he asked loudly. Mr. Gray looked over, his eyes watery. For a moment Rees thought Mr. Gray might speak, but he changed his mind at the last minute.

“I can't hear you,” he said. “Speak up.” Rees felt certain the old man had heard every word.

“Mr. Rees,” Maartje said in annoyance. “Please don't pester my uncle.” She looked at the key as though she wished to snatch it from his hand. Rees folded his fingers around it and turned to go.

More mud clung to his boots as he threaded his way through the line of vegetation separating Mr. Gray's home from the meetinghouse, and he suspected they would never be the same. He opened the back door and carried in the scarecrow he had brought from the farm that morning.

After installing the scarecrow in the shadowy pew at the back of the church, so it appeared to be a praying man, Rees drove into town and went into the tavern. As he expected, Cooper was there, and this time seated across the table from Reverend Vermette. By the sudden silence that greeted Rees, he guessed he had been the topic of conversation. Several men were grinning, so whatever the discussion, it did not reflect well upon him.

Cooper motioned him over. “And what are you doing here?”

“Just thought I'd get something to eat and drink before going to the meetinghouse,” Rees said, waving at Mr. Randall for an order of cider. Turning his gaze to Vermette he said, “I found something that indicates the identity of the murderer.”

“Not that Bible,” Vermette sneered.

“No,” Rees lied. “Something else. I plan to spend the rest of the day praying for guidance.”

Cooper turned to look at Rees in disbelief. “What are you playing at?” he muttered.

Vermette looked incredulous. “I am glad to hear you are a God-fearing man,” he said. “I would not have expected … I mean…”

Rees glanced around him and saw that the men sitting near him were not troubling to hide their interest. Mr. Baker and his son, one of the selectmen, and several regulars: this news would be all over Dover Springs in an hour. Smiling, he drained his glass of cider and left the tavern.

*   *   *

Rees let himself into the meetinghouse once again, carefully leaving the back door open and slightly ajar. Then he and his rifle took up a position in the vestibule, hidden behind the wooden half wall and in clear sight of the scarecrow slumped over the back of the bench in front of it. A lamb to the slaughter.

He heard a clatter outside a little while later but no one came into the building, so Rees settled back against the wooden wall with his rifle across his knees. The effort of waiting, without movement or noise, lulled him into a semi-doze. When the attack came he was unprepared. Footsteps whispered across the wooden floor; Rees didn't recognize the sound at first, and by the time the soft slip of stocking feet connected with the notion of threat, the attacker was well inside and aiming his blunderbuss at the scarecrow. Rees raised himself to his knees and rested the rifle upon the lip of the half wall, but before he fired a shot erupted from the back door.

“Hold it,” shouted Cooper.

The blunderbuss went off and the scarecrow's head exploded into a shower of straw. Rees leveled his rifle and shouted, “Stop.” Caleb Griffin lowered his weapon. Cooper, holding his rifle up to his shoulder, walked forward.

“Put the blunderbuss onto the pew,” the constable ordered. Griffin made as if to comply, but as he turned he hurled the weapon into Cooper's stomach. The constable fell to the floor, gasping. Griffin started running, right past the constable, toward the back door.

“Cooper,” Rees cried, running through the gate and sprinting toward the constable.

“I'm fine. Go after Griffin.”

Rees leaped over the constable and thundered out the back door. He knew where Griffin must be heading: to Mr. Gray's house. Sure enough, when Rees ran outside, he saw Griffin, struggling through the greening shrubs that separated the properties. Rees broke into a sprint and went down, full length, into the mud. Scrambling to his feet, he adopted a running hop, trying to leap over the slick dirt. His long legs gained more ground than Griffin's. As Caleb tried to make his way through the shrubs, Rees grabbed him. Griffin smacked Rees with all his strength and he went down, but he didn't release his grip on Griffin's coat. The two men fell together and began rolling over and over on the muddy ground, punching and kicking as each tried to gain the advantage.

Panting, Cooper came up to them. “Stop, Caleb,” he ordered. “You can't escape now.” Winded, Griffin ceased fighting. Rees struggled to his feet and, as Cooper grasped one of Griffin's arms, Rees grabbed the other. “I've got him,” Cooper said. “I'll take him to my shop and lock him in.”

Rees nodded, panting hard as he tried to catch his breath. “You'll have to tell me how you knew.” Cooper jerked Griffin to his feet and dragged him to the front of the meetinghouse.

Rees slowly made his way back inside. He retrieved his rifle and dropped into the pew. His hands were trembling; the rifle slipped from his fingers and clattered against the floor. He hadn't been sure who would appear, and had been more than half certain it would be Reverend Vermette. Now he needed to rethink his interpretation of the facts.

He was still sitting there when Maartje hurried in. She'd tucked her skirts up around her waist, and her clogs and stockings were spattered with mud. “Where is my husband?” she cried. “I heard a shot.”

“The constable has him,” Rees said. “He tried to kill me.”

Maartje stared at him in shock before whirling and running out the door once again.

Rees rose carefully to his feet and began gathering up the scarecrow. The head was gone. That could have been Rees's head. He sat down once again.

Chapter Thirty-one

He finally drove home an hour later. Although he closed the meetinghouse's back door, he did not revisit Mr. Gray's house to return the key. He just couldn't face either Maartje or Mr. Gray again—not yet, anyway.

As Rees removed the scarecrow from the buggy, scattering straw everywhere, Lydia came outside. “Where were you? Why are you covered with mud? What were you doing with the scarecrow? What
happened
to the scarecrow?”