Must the Maiden Die (34 page)

"Is there leisure time available?" asked
Blaustein.

"Oh, yes, there is sufficient time for
recreation."

When Polk snickered, Judge Endicott sent him
a flinty look over motionless spectacles.

"What kind of recreation, Mr. Noyes?"

"We hold Sunday afternoon picnics for our
neighbors and frequently conduct musicales. And theater events as
well."

"And does Elise Jager participate in those
theater events?"

"Indeed, yes. She often directs as well as
performs in the productions. Elise is a splendid actress, which is
why I encouraged her to come to Oneida. Her husband, I understand,
forced her to abandon the theater after their marriage."

Standing at his table, Blaustein picked up
Glynis's note, scanned it again, and asked, "Mr. Noyes, did you
ever have occasion to meet Roland Brant at the Oneida
Community?"

"Objection," Polk barked, jumping to his
feet. "Irrelevant and immaterial."

"Objection overruled," declared Judge
Endicott. "Mr. Polk, I gave you leeway to pursue a prurient line of
questioning in an attempt to reach the truth in this matter. Tamar
Jager has been at the heart of all that has gone before me today,
and if attorney Blaustein's question assists in any way to
determine the girl's future, I will allow it."

Bravo, Judge Endicott, Glynis silently
applauded. And she suddenly realized that he had shown her another
vantage from which to view Roland Brant's murder. She also saw that
for the first time John Humphrey Noyes looked something less than
supremely self-confident.

"Mr. Noyes, shall I repeat the question?"
asked Blaustein.

"No, no," he replied. "I may have met Roland
Brant on one or two occasions when he came to purchase some of
Oneida's fine cutlery," answered Noyes. He turned to Judge
Endicott, saying, "You may have heard of our steel traps or the
knives made in our own forge, and of our invention of a revolving
oven to temper steel."

Judge Endicott's expression indicated mild
interest, but Blaustein looked unimpressed as, glancing again at
Glynis's note, he asked, "Did you also have occasion to meet Tamar
Jager's father, Derek Jager?"

Orrin Polk started to object, but apparently
thought better of it upon seeing Judge Endicott glower.

"I believe that's possible," Noyes nodded.
"He was, as I recall, a business associate of Roland Brant's."

Blaustein swung around to look at Glynis,
and she gave him a brief nod. He then turned back to the
witness.

"Thank you, Mr. Noyes. I have no further
questions of this witness, Your Honor."

At this point Noyes looked exceedingly
cheerful, Glynis thought, for a man who had heard his life's work
described as iniquitous. He sat in the witness chair with a slight
smile as he stared toward the window, perhaps listening for God's
intent. Or Noyes might be thinking, as Harriet Peartree would put
it, that compared to God, Orrin Polk was small potatoes and few in
the hill.

Judge Endicott unexpectedly asked, "I am
rather curious about something, Mr. Noyes. With all the activity
that Mr. Polk has described as taking place at Oneida, how do you
people manage to find time to feed and clothe and house
yourselves?"

"Those are pleasurable religious
obligations, Your Honor," Noyes answered with a beneficent smile.
"It is our duty to God to take joy in all that we do in His
kingdom, and you have perhaps heard of our magnificent
horticulture. You should visit our landscaped gardens, sir, and
observe for yourself our guiding principle: that beauty is
inseparable from utility."

Glynis covered a smile with her hand at
Judge Endicott's obvious curiosity. If she'd had the opportunity,
she undoubtedly would have asked Noyes much the same sort of
thing.

None at Oneida, so far as she knew, were
held captive; they could leave anytime they chose. Moreover, the
commune, when subjected to a particularly vicious attack from
local clergy, had received the near unqualified support of their
neighbors, the largely Protestant farming families that surrounded
Oneida.

Which, she supposed, was all well and good
for the adults who chose to live there—but what about the
youngsters? Much as she disliked Orrin Polk, she thought his point
was telling; as benign as Noyes appeared to be, she couldn't help
but equate his exercise of power over young females with that of
Roland Brant. A power that was centuries old and unchanging.

Judge Endicott straightened on the bench and
then, looking judiciously grave, addressed the two lawyers, "I must
tell you both that, given what I have heard today, I am inclined to
rule that Tamar Jager, at age seventeen, has as much right to
determine her own future as anyone else in this room. Therefore, I
will hear testimony from the girl herself before deciding this
matter. Court adjourned."

Glynis was impressed with the judge's
decision. As she rose from the chair, she began to realize that
Noyes's testimony here had cast light on some treacherous
possibilities. She wondered if the man was aware of them. Or was
Noyes merely an unwitting collaborator?

I am more and more convinced that man is a
dangerous creature; and that power, whether vested in many or a
few, is ever grasping, and like the grave, cries "Give, give!"

—Abigail Adams, 1775

On the carriage ride back to Seneca Falls,
Glynis listened none too closely to M. B. Blaustein's measured and
mournful analysis of the afternoon's proceeding. She half-heartedly
tried to follow his comments, yet, occupied by her own thoughts,
only managed to nod periodically.

She had accumulated over the past days
numerous odd scraps of information, which she believed were somehow
related if only she could piece them together. But her mind was
behaving like a sieve. It wouldn't hold onto a single idea long
enough to consider it before it was gone and another poured in to
take its place. Followed by another and another. She had to think
much of this stemmed from her newly informed view of Roland Brant.
That, and her own misjudgment of his character.

Until a few days ago she had known the man
mainly through his many acts of charity; his contributions to
numerous Seneca Falls organizations, which included Neva's shelter
and her own library. She had not believed Roland Brant capable of
evil. Then, while listening to Tamar the night before, she had
experienced an intense anger, for what could merciless assaults on
a defenseless young girl be called but evil. And her anger provoked
still more questions: Had all of Brant's beneficence been intended
to make the town beholden to him? Simply the means to increase his
influence?

What had Shakespeare, the voice for all
seasons, said?
The evil that men do lives after them; the good
is oft interred with their bones.
It seemed to be true, because
Glynis felt she had lost all sense of balance. She could not see
past the worst of Roland Brant.

And yet the worst had been all but
invisible.

In Waterloo she had learned some things of
significance. While she still believed Roland Brant's family and
staff members were the main suspects in his murder, she now
included Derek Jager. Brant might well have admitted him through
the library door. She recalled Jager's angry words when he had been
with Erich in the library. So Roland might possibly have swindled
his own business associate.

Would Brant have opened that door to Gerard
Gagnon? Glynis couldn't discount it. And since she knew scheduled
arrivals by train could not be trusted, she supposed Elise Jager
might have secretly arrived Sunday night, rather than Monday
afternoon. After all, Glynis had not actually seen the woman leave
the train. If the girl's mother had suddenly discovered what Roland
Brant had done to her daughter....

M. B. Blaustein broke into her thoughts.
"Miss Tryon, I'm in Seneca Falls. But are
you
here?" he
asked, smiling.

"Barely," she admitted with embarrassment,
looking around to discover they had arrived at the Fall Street
livery. She shaded her eyes with a hand, as light shimmered off the
canal with the blinding glare of a sunlit mirror. And she suddenly
thought:
a mirror
.

She quickly thanked attorney Blaustein,
wished him well in the custody proceeding, and then walked briskly
in the direction of the lockup. If she was correct, Judge Endicott
might not need to make a decision about Tamar's custody.

She found only one deputy in Cullen's
office.

"You don't have to worry about Sledge," Zeph
told her when he opened the door to the lockup's holding cells.
"He's gone. Long gone if he knows what's good for him."

"Cullen released him?" Glynis asked in
surprise as they walked down the hallway.

"Nothing to hold him on. I didn't see him
fire that shotgun, and Sledge swore it was his pal did all the
shooting."

"But Sledge would say that, wouldn't
he?"

Zeph shrugged. "There was a wanted notice
out for the girl, so he didn't do anything illegal—least not that
we can prove. Anyway, Constable made him sign a sworn statement
that Gerard Gagnon killed that runty guy in self-defense. Then he
told Sledge to get out of his town and not come back."

"So for company, he's keeping
me
here!" came Gerard's voice from the holding cell.

The man sounded as angry as Glynis had
expected. "Zeph," she said, "do I have to stand out here in the
hall to talk to Mr. Gagnon?"

"The constable's not around…what did he tell
you?"

"Earlier today he said I could visit Mr.
Gagnon. He didn't say I had to do it through the bars of a
cell."

"Ah, but I'm a dangerous character, Miss
Tryon," Gerard told her. "Certainly more dangerous than a half-wit
bounty hunter armed with a shotgun!"

"Gagnon, why are you making this so hard on
yourself?" Zeph sounded as if he didn't expect an answer.

"He's not a convicted criminal. So why don't
you unlock this cell door," Glynis suggested, "and then leave that
door into the office open. That way you'll hear me if I scream."
She assumed Zeph would hear this as a feeble attempt at gallows
humor.

He stood looking at her, then gave Gagnon a
longer look. "If anything happens, Constable will string me up," he
said finally, reaching forward to unlock the cell door. "You give
me your word, Gagnon, you won't try anything stupid?"

Gerard looked as if he were ready to deliver
a less than cooperative reply, but after seeing Glynis's warning
glance, he apparently reconsidered. "My word, Deputy," he said.

When Zeph had gone back into the office,
Glynis swung open the cell door and stepped inside. Gerard Gagnon's
dark hair was shaggy, his face too lean, his frame too gaunt, but
he had a quality that reminded Glynis somewhat of Jacques Sundown.
She had to hope, however, that he was more approachable than
Jacques had once been. She didn't have years to wait while this man
learned to trust her.

Gerard gestured for her to sit on the
rumpled cot. "My home is your home, Miss Tryon," he said with a
sardonic smile. He lowered himself to the floor to sit with his
back against the cell wall and asked, "How is the girl?" The
concern in his voice belied his offhand manner.

"She was much improved this morning," Glynis
answered. "One of the reasons I've come is tell you that. I hope
you'll be released soon and can see her yourself."

"You're not alone in hoping that. And thank
you. But you said that was one reason?"

"I wonder if I might ask you several things
that I'm curious about?"

"Depends," he said guardedly. "Would you
mind telling me if you believe I killed Roland Brant?"

"I think you might have. Though you're not
the most obvious suspect, at least not at the moment."

"Who is? Not Tamar!"

Glynis shook her head. "But you're not in a
position to ask about other suspects, Mr. Gagnon. It would be more
to your advantage, and to Tamar's, if you help to find the
truth."

He nodded. "All right, ask away. And since
you've been straightforward with me, I'll tell you this. For months
I had every intention of killing Roland Brant."

"Why didn't you?"

Gerard looked surprised. "You're not
shocked?"

"Not particularly, after what I've learned
about the man."

"What have you learned? Was it from
Tamar?"

"First tell me why you didn't kill
Brant."

He seemed to think about it before
answering, "I couldn't. I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Call
it lack of nerve—or maybe I just didn't want to dirty my hands on
him."

Glynis was aware that she wanted to believe
Gerard, and so she couldn't trust herself to remove him yet from
suspicion. "Tamar told me that you found her in the swamp." When
he nodded, she went on, "Did she speak to you then?"

"No. And she didn't say anything that made
sense until that bounty hunter shot Keeper. My dog," he added.

"Yes, I know Keeper. Were you told that he's
with Tamar at the refuge dispensary?"

"The deputy said he was."

"Dr. Cardoza-Levy removed the pellets from
Keeper's shoulder. Did you meet her?"

"Yes, when we left Tamar there," answered
Gerard. "Before we came here and the constable decided I was a
menace to society."

"Constable Stuart is afraid you'll leave
town. Leave quickly and lose yourself in the swamp, and possibly
take Tamar with you."

"He could be right," Gerard said. "And if
she wanted to go, I'd take her. You just asked if Tamar spoke when
I found her. She didn't, not to me, but she said a few things in
her sleep."

"What things?"

"The first night she cried. Most of what she
said made no sense, but she kept repeating 'the blood, the blood.'
As if she were Lady Macbeth."