Delivering the Truth (17 page)

twenty-four

Bertie and I stood
on the front steps of the police station.

“How remarkable, he studies astronomy,” I said.

“Ephraim has great depth. It simply isn't reflected in his income,” Bertie said.

“Yet he has no alibi for the murder.”

“They'll find the real killer, Rosetta. Ephraim isn't the one. And it's wrong of them to hold him without yet charging him with a crime.” She pulled her coat closer about her. “I'm off. You'll get home all right?”

“Surely. Thee knows my house is only three blocks distant.” Evening had fallen while we were inside but the street lamps were lit and I didn't have to pass through any unsavory areas between here and home.

“I still say you ought to get yourself a bicycle.” Bertie grinned as only she can.

“I might. Thank thee for thinking to bring Ephraim food. I'm sure he'll appreciate it.”

“He's family. And it was a chance to spend time with you, too.” She squeezed my hand.

I watched her stride away. I turned in the opposite direction only to see a uniformed Guy Gilbert running toward the station. He pulled up short in front of me, panting. “Miss Carroll, we have dreadful news.”

“What is it, Guy?”

“There's been another murder.”

“That's terrible. Who was killed?” Was I in a nightmare? Another murder in our peaceful town, another death? A cold breeze ruffled my bonnet, echoing the chill in my heart.

“Miss O'Toole. Her with the new babe and all.” His jaw worked and his hands clenched and unclenched, over and over.

I stared at him. “Minnie O'Toole?” I pictured the
round-faced
young woman, whom I'd last seen suckling her …
Oh, no
. “What about tiny Billy?”

“He's alive and well.”

I let a breath out. “That is a blessing, at least. How was Minnie killed?”

“I must raise the alarm.” He hurried through the front door.

My head roiled with questions. Who was with the baby? Who would have killed poor Minnie? How was she killed? I followed Guy into the station as the alarm bell near the roof tolled. Guy was conferring with Kevin Donovan at the desk. Kevin looked up with a quick move.

“What are you doing here?” Kevin didn't quite glare, but he didn't smile, either.

“Minnie O'Toole was my client. I delivered her son only a week ago. Is someone with the baby now, Guy?”

He nodded. “A neighbor woman came and took him.”

“Miss Carroll, you may go check on the infant,” Kevin said. “But we need you out of the way of our investigation.”

I opened my mouth to ask how Minnie was killed. Before I could speak, Kevin said, “Now. Go.” He pointed to the door. “And we're still inspecting her flat, so don't think of going in there.”

I set out for Minnie's flat in the gloaming, my mind filled with images of a week-old baby boy with no mother. And of his mother lying dead. Billy would need to feed, and likely soon. Newborns didn't thrive well on cow's milk. Perhaps the farm on Lions Mouth Road would have a nanny goat that had recently given birth. Goat's milk tended to sit better in a baby's stomach. The new infant formulas like Mellin's Food were available for a price, as were tins of condensed milk, but they weren't healthy substitutes for the breast. And then I stopped in the middle of High Street. Billy didn't need the milk of an animal or sustenance from a can, either.

Taking a detour of several blocks, I rapped on the Hendersons' door. When I received no answer, I called out.

“It's Rose Carroll. The midwife,” I added, in case a family member who didn't know me was caring for Patience.

Patience herself opened the door. Her eyes were haunted and her face drawn. She wore a wrapper over her house dress but I could see the stains of a leaking bosom.

“May I come in?” I rued that I hadn't visited her earlier in the day. It had been a full one, though. And wasn't yet over.

She turned without speaking and I followed her into the flat. She sank into a chair.

“I'd like to see how thee is faring,” I said.

When she nodded, I knelt next to her. Taking her wrist in my hand, I monitored her pulse.

“I can see thy milk is flowing. How is thee physically in other respects?”

She didn't speak for a moment, and then said, “I am empty. I can't stop weeping.”

“Is thee able to eat and drink?”

“Not particularly.”

“I'm so sorry for thy loss, Patience.” I moved to the chair next to her. “Thee has been through this before. The pain will lessen with time, and I know thee will never forget thy son. Either son.”

She swallowed and dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. A shred of lace trailed across her cheek.

“There is something thee can do for another baby, though. May I tell thee?”

“What could I possibly do?” Her voice was plaintive.

“I have just learned a newly delivered mother in town has been killed. I'm on my way to check on the infant, a
week-old
boy. He'll need to be nursed.”

Her eyes widened. “You want me to feed a motherless boy.”

“It would greatly increase his chances of survival.”

“What does his father say?”

I cleared my throat. I hadn't had much time to think on how to tell Billy's story. “His father isn't present. Minnie, the deceased mother, has a sister and a brother, but I'm certain they would approve.”

She sat with her hands folded, gazing at me. She turned her head to look out the window, then back at me.

“He's a healthy child so far? Of a good weight? If I do this, I wouldn't want to be accused of not nourishing him enough.”

“Billy seems quite healthy,” I said. “He wasn't too small or prematurely born, and he has a good cry. I wouldn't worry about being accused of anything. The family will be grateful.”

“Then I agree.” She sat up a little straighter. “Do I go to him or bring him here?”

“Babies so young need to eat around the clock, as thee knows. It might be best to keep him here. Will thy husband agree to this plan?” I hoped Hiram's cough wasn't contagious.

“I'm sure he will.”

“I'll go there now and make sure the family is in agreement. I'll then bring little Billy to thee.”

“I'd better straighten up while I have the chance.” Patience looked around at the disarray her sorrow had caused. Dirty plates sat abandoned on the table, a cushion from the settee lay on the floor, and a stack of books had slid sideways on an end table. She stood and rubbed her hands together as if preparing to work. “You've given me purpose, Rose. Thank you.”

I also stood and made my way to the door but encountered Hiram coming in. After I explained the plan and he agreed, I said, “Thy cough concerns me. Has thee seen a doctor?”

“Thank you, Miss Carroll, I did.” His face lightened. “I'm not sick. It's a cough from the coal dust I breathe on the railroad, see? So it wasn't me who killed my Timmy.”

“I'm very glad to hear that. And this news rests my heart at bringing the orphaned newborn into the house. It's still prudent to be as well as possible. And I've heard of late that frequent hand washing can help to keep a family healthy, especially after coughing. Thy lungs might be more susceptible to illness than others.”

He stared at me. I couldn't read his expression. I didn't know if he was about to throw me out of the house or agree.

“All right. I'll do anything to make sure another baby doesn't die.” He turned toward the kitchen.

“I'll return within the hour, I expect,” I said to Patience. Now all I had to do was convince Minnie's siblings of the wisdom of my plan. And pray a man like William Parry, accustomed to controlling his world, wouldn't become a problem.

twenty-five

A uniformed officer stood
with hands clasped behind his back at the bottom of the steps to Minnie's flat. A lamp in every window pushed light out into the evening. A clump of people, mostly men, stood on the opposite side of the street, smoking and talking in low voices as they gazed at the building.

I approached the officer and introduced myself.

“No one goes in, miss.”

“I don't wish to enter,” I said, even though I wanted to. “I'm looking for the infant. I was Minnie O'Toole's midwife and I delivered her baby only a week ago.”

“He's just there with the neighbor woman.” The officer pointed to the next house. A window on the side looked directly onto Minnie's porch.

A hearty woman in her fifties answered my knock, with tendrils of
salt-and
-pepper hair escaping her puffy white mob cap. Her eyes were kindly and her
flour-streaked
apron confirmed a delicious aroma of fresh bread that flowed out from the open door.

I repeated my introduction, adding that I wanted to check on Billy's
well-being
.

“I'm Therese Stevens. Come in, then, and sit. We'll get out of sight of that clutch of vultures.” She pointed to the group of curious onlookers, then ushered me into a modest sitting room whose surfaces gleamed from polish. Not a thing was out of place, except baby Billy nestled into a blanket on a big stuffed chair.

“He's just gone to sleep at last, poor tyke.” She snugged the blanket up closer under his chin. “Will you take a cup of tea?”

“I thank thee kindly. It has been a long day for me, and it's not over yet.”

She bustled out and I bent over to check on Billy. His brow was warm but not hot. Recent tears still dampened his cheeks. My hostess returned in no time bearing a tray with a cup of tea and a plate of warm buttered bread that she set on a low table near me. A small pot of purple preserves sat open with a knife at the ready.

“Has thee spoken with Minnie's brother or sister?” I took a sip of the tea, grateful she had sweetened it, and spread preserves on a slice of bread.

“The sister was the one who found her, bless her soul. She's still next door being questioned, I believe.”

“Such sadness for her. How was Minnie killed?” I felt compelled to ask.

Even though no one was nearby to listen, Therese leaned toward me and lowered her voice. “She was stabbed in the neck.”

A chill rippled through me. The same method of murder as with Thomas. By the same person? At least this time it hadn't been done with my knitting needle.

“With a letter opener, they said,” Therese added.

“How awful.” I imagined Minnie's fear when she saw her killer coming for her. “Did thee see anyone acting oddly come to call?”

Therese nodded. “I saw only a woman wearing a long cape and a large bonnet visit Minnie late this afternoon. Never seen the likes of her before. Couldn't get much of a glimpse of the face, the bonnet came that far forward.”

“That might have been Minnie's killer. Did thee see the hair color or any other identifying features?” I took a bite of the bread, which tasted as good as it smelled.

“You're sounding like the police there. Or those vultures out there. Why are you asking so many questions?” Therese cocked her head as she gazed at me.

I swallowed before I spoke. “I am only curious, but strongly curious, I admit. Whoever killed Minnie must be brought to justice.”

She nodded. “I think I spied a wisp of
light-colored
hair. And the woman was
thin-like
. A bit taller than you, even.”

The mention of a cape stirred the memory of the shadowy figure I'd seen before the fire. I shivered.

Billy stirred in his makeshift bed. “How will we feed this child?” Therese asked. “He'll need to eat soon. I don't know the sister's plans for him. I might have a can of condensed milk in the kitchen.”

“Thee won't need that.” I told her of Patience's recent loss and her willingness to nurse Billy.

“That's splendid, then. I heard the father isn't known. Although”—Therese watched me as she spoke—“I've seen a certain gentleman come to call several times. A gentleman
well-known
in Amesbury.” She raised her eyebrows.

I nodded. “I saw him once, as well. I believe he's the baby's father. His own wife is also with child, though. I don't know if he'll acknowledge Billy or not.”

“
The poor innocent infant who did nothing to deserve his fate.” Therese made a tsking sound. “At least he'll be able to eat.” At a knock on the door, Therese rose and disappeared into the hall.

She returned with a
round-faced
woman in her forties. A spot of pink was the only color in her otherwise pale cheeks and her dark hair bore a few streaks of silver. “Rose Carroll, this is Ida. Minnie's sister.”

I rose. “I can see the resemblance. I'm so sorry for the loss of thy sister, Ida.” I held out my hand.

Ida clasped it, then knelt next to Billy. “Them police kept asking me questions, and all I wanted was to come see the wee one.” She stroked his cheek. “They finally let me go.”

“You found Minnie?” I refrained just in time from saying
Minnie's body
.

She glanced up, tears overflowing eyes as blue as cornflowers. “I was coming to check on her and Billy. She didn't answer my knock but I could hear him crying. I pushed the door open and there she lay in the hall. Dead.” Ida sank back on the floor and clasped her knees in her arms, rocking as she hugged herself. “My little sister, with that, that
thing
sticking right out of her neck. Who would do such a terrible deed?”

“Come now.” Therese helped Ida up off the floor and into a chair. She pulled a bottle out of a high cupboard set into the wall near the hall. “You need a spot of spirits,” Therese said, pouring the brandy into a small glass and handing it to Ida. She poured a spot for herself, as well, but I shook my head when she glanced at me holding a third glass.

Ida sipped the spirits and grew less agitated. “What will I do with my nephew? I have six of my own children at home. And the youngest is five. I don't have a drop of milk left in me.”

I leaned toward Ida, my elbows on my knees. “I have a client who lost her own newborn son this week. She's agreed to feed and care for Billy for the time being. With thy permission, clearly.”

“Who is this woman? And what happened to her poor son?”

I told her about Patience and Timmy. She nodded slowly.

“That poor woman. If she takes Billy in, I can go and see him when I want, surely?”

“Of course,” I said, sitting back.

“That's fine, then.”

“Will this plan meet thy brother's approval, too?” I asked. “Or that of other family members?”

“It's only me and Jotham. He and I don't see eye to eye, you might say. But he can't argue with making sure Billy is fed the right way.”

“Can thee think of anyone at all who might have held a grudge against your sister?” I watched her.

“Now there you go badgering her with these same inquiries,” Therese said to me. “That's not rightly your business, Miss Carroll.”

Ida shook her head. “It's all right, though the detective asked me the same question. I don't know of anyone who disliked Minnie. She was just a sweet girl who went a little wrong. That Mr. Parry took advantage of her, he did. But he at least did the right thing by supporting her.”

“Thee is confident that he's Billy's father, then,” I said.

“Oh, indeed he is, wrong that it is.” Ida's voice of misery changed to an angry tone. She tossed back the rest of her drink and gazed at the baby. “He'd better keep on paying, too. For his son.”