A Changing Light by Edith Maxwell (pdf ebook reader .txt) 📗

the stately Union Congregational Church facing the water, crossed the Powow River bridge, then jogged left onto Washington Street to follow the bend in the river. The road was busy with drays and surreys, with shipbuilding shops, the coal depot, and a little farther down, the Merrimac Hat Company with its extensive brick buildings. Luthera was a skilled driver, but she was going too fast for my comfort, coming up close behind slower vehicles and passing them when she could.

The traffic quieted after the bustle of the hat factory, its workers and supplies going in and out. David and I had driven out here two years ago during a full moon, the evening he’d asked me to be his wife.

“Have you deduced yet who killed my husband?” she asked.

I turned my head sharply to look at her. “Why, no. As I said when we first met, investigating a homicide is rightfully the job of the police department.”

“You also said you helped them from time to time.” She swerved to avoid a hole in the road.

I was glad I’d been holding on tightly. The seat in this carriage rode high, and a passenger could easily be thrown out.

“I know you’ve been asking questions around town,” she continued.

How would she have learned about my inquiries? “I haven’t, really.” Which was not true, but she didn’t need to know that.

Luthera continued. “I’d like to see the scoundrel behind bars before I take my husband’s body home.”

“I should think thee would.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if that Ned Bailey character did it,” she said. “He seems a slippery sort.”

“Oh?”

“Unctuous. The kind to ingratiate himself with whomever he might garner a favor from.”

“But why would he kill Justice?”

She shrugged. “He thought my husband was a competitor, perhaps?”

“Maybe.” Although, according to Jonathan, the two had been having a good discussion. On the other hand, Ned was in possession of what was possibly the murder weapon, but I had no intention of revealing what I’d heard. I gazed at an eagle soaring over the river on wide wings, its white head intent on finding fish to catch up in its huge, sharp talons. As intent as Luthera the businesswoman, who didn’t seem to be grieving for Justice at all. “Did thee and thy husband have a happy marriage?” I asked.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“I simply wondered. I was married only in the last year, myself. Thee doesn’t seem to be overly sad at his loss.”

“Some don’t consider it proper to display one’s feelings publicly for all to witness.” She raised her chin. “I’m not the sniveling little wife, weeping at the drop of a hat.”

She certainly was not. “I heard talk about town that thee might be considering a merger with the Parry company.”

It was her turn to whip her head over. “Who told you about a merger?”

“Not anyone you would have met.”

“Any hearsay about merging is merely gossip.” She pressed her lips into a line and focused on the road again. “While I do take an active part in running the business, I’m not at liberty to discuss the plans of Montgomery Carriage Company.”

“I only asked because, if thy husband was opposed to the plan, William Parry might have had cause to wish him dead.”

“To murder him.” She glanced at me again with narrowed eyes. “I wouldn’t put it past Mr. Parry. He doesn’t seem a completely upright kind of man, if you know what I mean.”

The road grew narrower and rougher. My poor full bladder was taking a beating, and I didn’t entirely trust Luthera not to do me harm.

“I’m afraid I must be getting home, Luthera, if thee would do me the favor of reversing direction.”

When she continued driving, my heart beat faster. What would I do if she attacked me, or tried to throw me from the conveyance?

“Luthera, please turn around.” I tried to keep the panic out of my voice.

She didn’t speak. My hands chilled, and my throat thickened. Why had I come with her? I should know better by now. The houses out here were spaced far apart, and some of the land at the narrow road’s edge was marshy. I had no one to call for help, no way to safely leap out—and then what would I do? She could run me down.

She pulled on the reins and the horse slowed. Now what? I swallowed and gripped the side.

“I’m looking for a wide spot where I have room to turn,” she said. “Ah, there’s one.”

Chapter Thirty-one

“Was I actually in danger?” I mused aloud after Luthera dropped me at home—and after I’d recovered from my fright. Or had it been my condition and my imagination leading to my panic out on the river road? In fact, she had not threatened me in the least. And it didn’t matter now. I was safe and in my own abode. With the door locked.

After my urgent visit to the water closet, I let down my hair, removed my shoes, and washed up. David had said he’d be home by one o’clock to attend the funeral with me, and it wasn’t even noon. I fixed a cold lunch of hard sausage, bread and butter, a boiled egg with prepared mustard, and a couple of dill pickles. I added a glass of cold milk and plopped gratefully into a kitchen chair.

I needed to start more bread rising, as this was our last loaf, but first I would put my feet up and feed myself—and our wee bun in the oven, as Kevin put it, a phrase that made me giggle. It was more like I had a bun in the proofing basket, where a gentle warm temperature led to slow, optimal growth.

Kevin. Had he questioned Ned about the gun? Would Jonathan Sherwood contact Kevin about what he’d seen on the night of the murder? Would Zeb? Questions churned in my brain. I set down my bread and closed my eyes. At this moment, I needed a spot of peace in which to eat and