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

“It’s remarkable someone would come all the way from the Southern Hemisphere to buy carriages.”

I swallowed a bite of tender, juicy chicken. “He said he lives in Boston now. It wasn’t quite as long a trip. Some visitors here this week are from as far away as Australia, truly the other side of the world.” I stared at my plate, frowning, thinking about Jorge absconding with Ned’s plans.

David reached out to cover my hand. “What is it, dear Rose?”

“Nothing I should bother thee with.”

“Dear wife, there is nothing you should not bother me with. And I sense it is not the excellence of the meal you frown about.”

I met his gaze. “This is a delicious, beautiful, superlative dinner, dear husband, and I thank thee. And thee knows me too well. This Jorge said something about the night of the murder which is picking at my brain.”

“Your picking is my picking. Please share if you feel so inclined. It might help to talk it all through.” He patted my hand and returned to his chicken.

“I feel as if a puzzle piece has fallen into place, and I appreciate thy offer. But I truly don’t want to sully our meal together with talk of homicide. I’ll try to find Kevin later, or at least write him a note, to share my thoughts.” I smiled, hoping I had not hurt David’s feelings.

When he gave me an understanding nod, I counted my blessings in husband yet once again.

“I heard that a new musical performance is coming to the opera house next month,” I said brightly. “Perhaps we can obtain tickets and have a night out.”

“While you still can. I like your idea, Rose. Did I ever tell you about the time I saw The Mikado in Portsmouth?”

And so we passed the rest of the meal. But by two o’clock, thoughts of last week’s crime again filled my brain. It was First Day, the day of rest. I should be sitting with my husband in quiet companionship, knitting and reading, chatting and writing. Instead, after I cleaned up the kitchen, I put through a call to the police station.

“The chief is at home, Mrs. Dodge,” the officer told me. “It’s Sunday, you know.”

“I do know. I thank thee.” I hung the receiver on its hook, considering my options. I rather urgently wanted Kevin to know how Jorge had reacted to my questions and what Prudence had said about seeing him steal the papers from Justice Harrington’s dead body. Perhaps the Brazilian had killed the Canadian to obtain the innovative plans. If they’d tussled in the alley, Jorge could have pulled out a pistol and shot him in the heat of the moment. South Americans were supposed to be passionate, weren’t they?

Either way, I had to tell Kevin. Should I place a call to him at home? Write a letter? Pay him a visit? I knew Emmaline would welcome me. But I shouldn’t disturb his day of rest with his family. And it could all wait until tomorrow. Couldn’t it?

I gazed out the front window. The rain beat in from the west, wind tapping it on the glass. Behind me David snored lightly in his chair. I again prayed his headaches weren’t the sign of some other malady. They plagued him with some regularity, and the next day he was always exhausted.

The facts of this murder were currently plaguing me. They weren’t exhausting so much as frustrating. The rain made me disinclined to go out again, whether alone or with David. This news was far too important to risk Gertrude listening in to a telephone call. Pen and paper would again have to suffice.

I sat at the desk in my office and began to write. I could solve the problem of how to get my letter to the detective when I was done. I’d penned only the opening salutation when a sharp rap came at the side door.

“Faith,” I exclaimed at the sight of her under a huge black umbrella now dripping rain on the covered veranda. “Come in.”

She left the umbrella outside and hurried inside. “Rose, you wouldn’t believe what I just learned.” She flipped back her bonnet and swiped rain off her forehead. Her eyes were wide, and her hair was escaping its pins.

“Please tell me.” Was this about the Spring Opening murder?

“Well, I went into the Daily News office, even though it’s First Day. I needed to hand in my story about last night’s Board of Trade gala.”

“Was it the final gathering of the week?” I asked.

“No. There’s one more closing ceremony at the end of the day today. Too bad about the rain.” She wrinkled her nose. “The ceremony was to have been outside with a parade of carriages.”

“That is a pity.” I waited, but Faith only gazed out the window. I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry I interrupted thee, Faith. Please go on.”

She started, then laughed. “I almost forgot I came here with news. So, I went into the office, and the man who covers the police was furiously typing. We were the only two in there. I asked him what had happened. Rose, thee won’t believe it.”

Instead of strangling her, I raised my eyebrows. “Tell me.”

“They’ve brought in that handsome Brazilian under suspicion of committing homicide! The case is solved, Rose.”

Maybe. “Jorge Amado.” I narrowed my eyes. “Did this police reporter say what the evidence was?”

“A witness saw him with the victim’s body in the alley the night of the murder.”

“Who was the witness?”

“He didn’t have a name,” Faith said. “But I knew you would want to know right away.”

I folded my arms, thinking. Either Prudence had overcome her worries about going to the police or someone else had seen Jorge with dead Justice.

“I thank thee for telling me. But this witness didn’t see the killing, correct?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Ah. And was Kevin’s name bandied about?”

She shook her head. “The reporter didn’t mention it.”

Kevin might not even know about it. Unless his day of rest had