On the Head of a Pin (27 page)

“No,” Lewis said, “I'm sure it wasn't the Quaker boy. If it were only Rachel, you might think so, but he was nowhere near the others. And I'm positive the murders are all related, all done by the same person. There seems to be this strange ritual with each of them. The bodies set up in the same way, with the same things placed with them. That speaks of one man.”

“How do you know it's a man?” Minta asked. “You men always seem to think that women are far too noble to do such evil things, but there are women who are monsters as well.”

Lewis smiled at her. “Believe me, Minta, I considered it. I know that evil comes sometimes in a female form, but there are certain aspects of this that point to a man. It would have to be someone with an excuse to be in many different places. There is also something else going on here that points to a man, a certain warped and depraved lust that somehow becomes something else. Please, Minta, don't make me go into the details.”

But they had already imagined what those details might be, and they both looked taken aback.

“Do you know who it is?” Seth asked.

“Maybe,” Lewis replied. “But I have no proof, so I'll not bandy names at this point.”

“But at some point in time you must have wondered if it was me,” Seth said, and Lewis sheepishly admitted that he had, but had quickly dropped him from consideration. “You have a happy family, and somehow I don't think this man knows what that is.”

His timetable was once again in a shambles. Betsy was still far too lame to sit a horse, and even when she did start to feel better, he would still have to take her back to Bath. He debated whether or not he should ride west and resume his round for a few days and then return to take his family home, but that would mean leaving them with Minta. He felt they had imposed far too long as it was. Besides, he would once again be abandoning his appointments and he knew that many of them were in the northern reaches of his circuit, which would add substantially to the number of miles he would have to ride and the amount of time it would take for him to return. It was probably wiser to wait a day and see how things were.

His mind went round and round as he tried to fit together all the pieces of information he had gathered. Again and again he came back to Simms. He studied the Book of Proverbs again, the admonition to “come not nigh the door to her house,” and to “cleave unto thy wife.”

But Simms didn't have a wife, did he? He had spoken only of a demanding mother and three unmarried sisters. Yet, he had been in Demorestville, in Prescott, in Millcreek. And who had given Sarah the little book and the painted pin, if not a peddler who had a large stock of both? He tried to recall whether or not he had ever seen the peddler's wagon near Sarah's cabin, but if he had, it had obviously made no impression on him. It would have been such a common sight that there would have been no reason to remember it. He did feel for the longest time that there was something he had overlooked, and then it came to him: Simms had said he was in Prescott awaiting a shipment, a shipment that had been sent down the river by his brother-in-law. As far as Lewis was aware, he had no brother-in-law; he had mentioned only the unmarried sisters. And he had been quite specific about their unwed states. And where had he been coming from when he had caught up with Lewis that day? Again, everything was pointing to the peddler. It was as clear as the writing on the wall.

The writing … the inscription inside the cover of Rachel's book! It was a fine, educated hand that had written that. Mentally he compared the writing to the blotched and nearly illegible scrawl that had been on Morgan Spicer's application for appointment. Not only was Spicer absent at the time of Sarah's murder, he could never have written the words in Rachel's book. He just didn't write well enough.

“Minta,” he said, rising from the table. “Do you still have Rachel's things?”

“Yes,” she said, puzzled. “Did you want to see them again?”

She retrieved the box for Lewis, who sorted through the effects until he found the Book of Proverbs. Yes, the writing was slanted and well-formed: the mark of an educated man.

“May I borrow this for a short time tomorrow?” he asked, and Minta, though obviously puzzled, nodded her assent. The next morning Willett was nowhere in sight, but Benjamin was in the cramped little corner of the building that had been set aside as an office of sorts.

“Mr. Lewis,” he said, “Willett told me you were around the other day. I was sorry I missed you, so I'm glad you came back.”

“It's good to see you again, too,” Lewis said. “I hear congratulations are in order. You've married since I left.”

Benjamin grinned. “Best thing I ever did. Should have done it long since.”

“I hear you're so busy you're not painting anymore.”

“That's right. Given it up, just like my father wanted me to for years, although Willet and I may do a mural for the new church.”

“I do have a question regarding those pins you made. I understand that you travelled for a time selling them? As well as your portraits and paintings?”

“No, that's not really quite right,” Caddick said. “Simms had his regular routes, so I sent most of the pin stock out with him. When I travelled I was selling the paintings. It's only the well-to-do in the towns who would buy those, you see, but the pins were more popular with the poorer folk. I couldn't cover the same kind of ground as Simms because he had all his other stock as well. He might sell some yard goods, or a pot or a tool at the same time. There just wasn't enough profit in the pins to merit a special trip anywhere, but it was all right for him because he was going anyway.”

“So he handled the bulk of them?”

“Yes, he had most of them,” Caddick agreed. “Oh, I'd always have a few with me, just in case, but by and large it was Simms. He always said he wished they were worth more because he sold so many of them. He gave a lot of them away, as well. You know, if somebody bought a bible or a prayer book, he'd throw in the pin as a bonus.”

A bible or a prayer book … or a little red Book of Proverbs.

“Does this have something to do with Rachel Jessup?” Caddick asked. “Willett said you were asking questions about her.”

“Well, yes it does. I have never been convinced that all the questions about her death have ever been answered.” He shrugged. “I'm just trying to put the pieces together, that's all.”

“Don't tell me you fell under her spell as well?” Caddick teased. “She had all the young fellows dancing, that's for sure, but I'd have thought you'd be unmoved.”

Lewis smiled. “Oh, no. Don't worry, I'm well aware that I'm a crotchety old man and unattractive to all, except perhaps my wife on a good day. It's just a small mystery that's been nagging at me for a time.”

“And you think it has something to do with Isaac Simms?”

“I'm not sure,” Lewis said. But he was. And becoming surer all the time.

“Did you have any sort of written agreement with Simms? Or was it all just a verbal arrangement?”

“It wasn't worth enough to be bothered with any sort of contract. I'd just make a note of what I sent with him and he'd make a note of what he'd sold.”

“Do you still have the notes?”

“Yes.” He disappeared under the counter and hauled out a box. “I should have tossed this out ages ago, but my father was always a stickler for record-keeping. He says you never know when you may have to prove something.” He shuffled through the documents. “Yes, it's all here.” He shoved a sheaf of papers toward Lewis.

He only needed to find one and it didn't take him long. There, in a fine sloping hand were the words
R
eceived, 31 July 1837, 100 pin
s
.
C
on
s
i
gnment s
ale
s
a
s
a
t
9
O
c
t
ober, 1837–82.
P
aid 10
O
c
t
ober 1837.

Just to make sure, he pulled open Rachel's book and compared the writing. There was no question. It was the same. But why would Simms have written in the book before he placed it in her lifeless lap?

He handed the papers back. “Thank you. That helps a lot.”

Caddick shrugged. “I don't know how, but you're welcome.”

Lewis had never set much store by the Caddicks' so-called “artistic talents.” The pins, he felt, were quite useless articles and perilously close to being icons of a sort — something that was more along the lines of the Catholic way of thinking than the Methodist. He could see no reason for Willett's landscapes at all: why put something down in paint when you could see it in person? But he had had a change of heart about Benjamin's little miniature portraits. He wished that he had, at some point, had the sense to have one done of Sarah, for he realized that he was beginning to forget what she looked like.

IV

T
he next day Betsy announced that she was ready to try their return journey, and Minta looked dismayed. “You can't go yet. It's been so good having you here. Martha is wonderful with Henry. Stay another day. Please?” and then she disappeared out to the blacksmith's shop. When she returned, she had a smug expression on her face, but refused to say anything until Seth came in for his dinner.

She waited until the children had finished eating and then she cleared her throat and looked at Seth.

“What are you looking at me for?” he said. “This is your scheme, you do the talking.”

“Well.” She sat up a little straighter in her chair. “I've been thinking.”

“That much is obvious,” Lewis said. “I can tell by the look on your face that you're hatching something. So tell us what it is.”

It turned out to be the last thing he expected.

“Well, we have the half-house that's empty, you know. We wanted to rent it anyway, to help out until the shop gets off the ground. Seth and I have been talking about trying to find a tenant.”

Seth was busy all day in the smithy, and it looked to Lewis, at least, that the business was well-launched already, so he knew that Minta was just using this argument to lay the groundwork for what she had in mind.

“I've found it a real help to have Martha around,” she went on. “She's so good with Henry, and I was just thinking that maybe, since the place is empty anyway, you might think about renting it. I know you already have a place in Bath,” she said hurriedly, “but you could rent here just as easily as there, and since you're travelling all the time anyway, it would be easier for you to come back here. It's not nearly as far.”

“Well, yes,” Lewis said. “But that would only hold true for a time. I'm just as apt to be on a different circuit in a year's time.”

“And that's the problem,” Betsy said, and Lewis knew then that this plot had been carefully constructed by the two women. “Thaddeus, I told you that I've reached a time in my life when I want to be settled, and I need some help with Martha. We're not young anymore, you and I. It won't be that long before you can't manage the travelling either, and I can't think of a better place for us to locate.”

He could see that her mind was quite made up, and long experience had told him that when Betsy made a decision, the decision stayed made. The idea had a lot to recommend it, really, when he thought about it. He wanted to be able to keep a closer watch on Simms, and between that and his regular round, it was evident that he needed the luxury of knowing that he needn't hurry home to make sure that his family was all right. There was also another aspect to the situation that neither of the women would be aware of. In the long term, he could see that the day of the itinerant clergyman was probably drawing to an end, except perhaps in the newly settled western regions of the province. But that would be a task for younger men, not old hands like him. He suspected he would soon be looking for a place to locate, to become a settled minister who stayed in one place and preached to the same congregation at every service. The Methodist Episcopals in Demorestville had land given to them by Mr. Demorest and hoped to soon be building their own meeting house. He could do worse than ask to be their local preacher when the time came.

“Well,” he said, “what were you thinking of renting the place for?”

Minta named a sum that was less than they were currently paying in Bath, so Lewis knew that her wish to have Betsy and Martha nearby was sincere.

“The place is worth more than that, surely?”

“No, it isn't,” Minta replied. “It's so dark on that side, and there's no yard. But if it's Mrs. Lewis and Martha next door, I won't mind sharing the yard, and if it's too dark over there, they can come and sit in my kitchen.”

Lewis turned to Seth. “And what do you say to all this, sir?”

“It seems like a fine idea to me. It will help us out and you too. What is there here to quarrel with?”

Lewis was aware that his wife was perhaps not the easiest person to share a house with. Will and Nabby had made that clear. But Minta wasn't Nabby and the two women did seem to get along. Besides, they wouldn't be in the same house, would they? They could each run their kitchens the way they saw fit and keep each other company in the meantime. And then there was Martha. There was no question that it would be better for her to grow up in the company of someone younger than her grandparents, and to have a ready playmate nearby. He wasn't sure what Luke would think of it, but the boy was nearly finished school and would be going off on his own soon anyway. If he disliked the notion he could make some plan that suited him better.

“Settled,” he said, and Betsy and Minta beamed.

The question of what Luke would do answered itself in an unexpected way. As soon as everything was agreed, Lewis rode for Bath to arrange for the transport of their belongings. To his surprise, Moses was there when he arrived.