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

demand to speak with the Canadian consulate in Boston.” Her face was streaked with dried blood from the wound I’d inflicted, but it hadn’t affected her pride.

“We’ll put through the call, ma’am, but it won’t be ’til tomorrow,” Kevin said with a touch of satisfaction in his voice. “Today’s the Lord’s day of rest, you know. You’ll be comfortable in the Amesbury clink, I’m sure.”

I very much doubted it. She lifted her chin and looked away. Passengers climbing down stared at us, widened their eyes, and hurried away. A worried-looking railroad man rushed up. He glanced at Luthera’s hands secured behind her back and returned a concerned gaze to Kevin.

“Call the Amesbury police station, my man,” Kevin directed. “Tell them Chief Donovan needs the wagon here with all due dispatch, plus the matron.”

“Yes, sir.” The man hurried off.

Their only female officer would have to watch Luthera until she could be dispatched to the county lockup in Middleton. I wanted to call Faith, too, as soon as I arrived home. She would need to hurry to write her exclusive story.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself, Mrs. Harrington?” Kevin asked.

Luthera kept her gaze fixed on the roof of the depot and her mouth firmly shut.

I wanted to tell Kevin what she’d said about her husband and her father maltreating her. And give him a word about checking into how her father died. But I couldn’t very well do so with her elbow in his grasp. Tomorrow would suffice.

“What will happen to Ned?” I asked Kevin in a soft voice, not caring if Luthera heard. I rubbed my bruised fist. Helping to stop her had been worth even more bruises than this one.

He let out a long breath. “The idiot obstructed justice. I’d like to see him serve a bit of time for it. But with the name of his family behind him, I doubt he’ll be charged with much more than a hand slap.”

I thought through the others he—and I—had suspected. Zeb was in the clear, as I knew he would be. William had done nothing wrong in the end. Prudence had come forward with her information.

“What about Jorge?” I asked. “He stole plans off a dead man.”

“He’ll probably not see much time, either, although he needs to return those papers to Mr. Bailey.”

“Good.” Would motor-powered carriages be in our near future? They would if Ned had anything to do with it.

The whistle of the northbound train from Boston split the air, and again, growing closer. The clack of wheels grew louder. A conductor holding a flag strolled to the front of the platform, ready to signal the engineer driving the train.

Luthera tore out of Kevin’s grasp and ran for the edge of the platform.

“Stop that woman!” he cried as he dashed after her.

Perhaps Kevin had loosened his grip. Maybe I had overly distracted him, or he’d thought Luthera would remain compliant. I watched, aghast, as she paused for a second at the verge, preparing to leap onto the tracks at the last moment, when it would be too late for the engine to stop.

The conductor whirled. He whacked her back away from the edge with his flag. With her hands secured behind her back, her balance was off. She cried out and fell onto her back on the rough boards of the platform. The conductor stepped near her, the stick of the signaling device raised like a weapon. She tried to scoot nearer the edge to no avail, her mobility hampered as it was.

Kevin arrived, breathing heavily, his police weapon now drawn and pointed at her. “Don’t you dare make a move, Mrs. Harrington.”

Her nostrils widened as she glared, but she obeyed, not even moving her lips to speak.

“Thank you, sir,” Kevin told the conductor.

“Can’t have ladies leaping to their death,” the conductor acknowledged. “Not on my watch, we can’t.”

The train huffed to a stop at the same time as the Amesbury police wagon pulled up. The matron climbed down from it.

“If you’ll excuse me?” the conductor asked.

“As you were.” Kevin’s voice was gruff with chagrin. He yanked Luthera to her feet and marched her to the back of the wagon. After she was secured inside and in the custody of the matron, he put away his weapon and turned to me. “I’m sorry you had to go through any of this, Miss Rose.”

I touched his arm. “All’s well that ends well, Kevin. Right?”

“I suppose.”

Bertie rode up on Grover. “Have we had some excitement here, Rosetta?” She grinned, pointing at the wagon after staring at my bloodied hand.

“After a fashion.” I smiled up at her. “Luthera tried to shoot me on the train.”

“Ooh. She’s the murderer, is she?”

“Apparently. But Mary Chatigny and I managed to outsmart her.”

“And the ladies save the day once again,” Bertie said. “I like that. Do you know what Annie Oakley said? ‘When a man hits a target, they call him a marksman. When I hit a target, they call it a trick. Never did like that much.’” She raised an eyebrow. “I guess Mrs. Harrington shooting her husband to death wasn’t any trick.”

“No, it wasn’t.” I stared at the wagon. “And she might have killed her own father, too.”

Kevin snapped his head to look at me. I only nodded.

“Good afternoon, Detective,” Bertie said. “Or, more rightly, Chief.”

“Miss Winslow.”

“I’m just back from a jaunt. How about a ride home?” she asked me. “Grover’s as happy to carry two lovely ladies as one.”

“In your condition?” Kevin frowned at me, then glanced at the wagon. “Wouldn’t you rather sit in the front with the driver and me?”

“I’m pregnant, Kevin, not ill.”

Kevin cast his eyes skyward. He knew me too well to question such an apparently odd notion.

I laughed. “Thank thee, but no. I’ll travel back with Bertie.” My friends had been turning up at all the right moments this week, for which I was grateful.

“Good.” Bertie directed Grover over to a mounting block and slid off. “I think Rose and I have some catching up to do.”

“Pay