Death in Salem (36 page)

“She did know him,” Rees said. It felt odd to realize that all of the investigation, all of the speculation in which Rees had been immersed these last two days, was still unknown to William Boothe. “You sister had a life outside your home,” Rees said. “A secret life. And I'll be glad to tell you about that life, but not here and not now. Swett will not deny
you
when you instruct him to release me, not the William Boothe of the merchant Boothes. And if you want the identity of your father's murderer revealed, you will do as I ask.” William hesitated.

“But why has it taken so long?”

“Too many secrets,” Rees said. “And too many lies. It takes time to unravel that kind of knot.” He paused and added with more sharpness than he intended, “I'll tell you everything, but not now.”

William eyed Rees, the furrow between his brows deepening. “Do you know who murdered my father?” he asked.

Rees wanted to lie and assure William that yes, indeed he did know, but couldn't. “No, not yet,” he admitted. “But I do know what happened to your sister Peggy.”

“Whatever it is, I am sure it will bring dishonor to the family,” William said in a frosty tone. He turned and marched away. Rees watched him go in consternation. Now what?

“Is he going to free you?” Mustafa asked.

“I don't know,” Rees admitted. “Would you tell my wife?” He had not even a scrap of a piece of paper in his pockets.

“I am not your servant,” Mustafa snapped.

“I know,” Rees said, bowing his head. “But she doesn't know where I am.”

“Very well,” Mustafa grumbled. “This and no more.” He disappeared into the crowd.

A passing street vendor provided a pasty, charging twice its worth. But Rees paid the sum requested; he was too hungry to argue. And although the pie was cold, the fat congealed, and the crust soggy, it was filling and Rees ate it gladly. Then he settled himself to wait.

 

Chapter Thirty-three

“Will?” Lydia appeared suddenly at the small grated window in the door. “Are you there?”

Rees leaped to his feet. “Lydia.” It had to be at least noon, he thought.

“What happened?”

“I was set upon by the deputy and his lackeys. Mr. Swett has not forgiven me for accusing him of taking bribes.” Rees looked at Lydia's shadowed eyes and her trembling lips. “I didn't mean to worry you.”

“I wasn't worried,” she said. “I knew you were planning to visit Twig, but I didn't realize it would be first thing this morning. And this…” She swept her hand over the jail's grille.

“I'm sorry.” Guilt swept over Rees. “Swett's men grabbed me as I was coming home.”

“Annie is distraught. She was afraid you'd abandoned us. And left nothing but a few coins on the table.”

Rees reflected for a few seconds on Annie's experiences. She must think every man came and went, unreliable as the wind.

“I won't share Annie's fears with you,” Lydia continued, pressing her face closer to the bars. “But she was inconsolable and I couldn't reassure her. Although I guessed where you'd gone, I didn't know for sure. And, instead of being in jail, you might have been floating in the sea. Or dead in the tunnels. I wish you would tell me where you're going instead of just disappearing.” She paused and then added in a low voice, “What would you think if you awoke and I was gone?”

Rees jerked, his head snapping back as though he'd been slapped. “I'm sorry. You're right. I should have woken you. Or left a note at least.”

Lydia nodded. “Good. Of course I know it wouldn't have changed this outcome.” She clutched at the grille.

“Move along, mistress.” At the man's command, Lydia glanced back over her shoulder and reluctantly released her grip. The deputy, his expression set in sulky lines, came forward with the large key and unlocked the door. William Boothe stood behind him. He glowered at Rees.

“I must return to the counting house for another hour or so,” he said. “I've wasted too much time on this affair as it is. Tomorrow is Thursday. I'll work only half a day. Attend upon me at two-thirty in the afternoon and we'll see if you're able to make good upon your promise.” He turned his gaze to Mr. Swett. “I don't want to hear of you putting him back in jail either.”

The deputy nodded, Rees thought with some reluctance, and cleared his throat. “I'd like to hear his explanation, if you would permit it,” he said.

William inclined his head in curt assent. “Very well.” He bowed to Lydia and, turning, strode away.

“I look forward to seeing your show tomorrow,” Swett said to Rees, adding with a smirk, “I daresay we shall all see what manner of fraud you are.”

Rees did not respond to the gibe. Instead, he took Lydia's arm and walked stiffly away, his head held high. Lydia stepped away from him but did not release his arm. “You'll have to bathe,” she said. “You stink.” Rees sniffed his sleeve. He smelled nothing unusual but thought he'd probably gotten used to the pungent stench that marked jails.

“Have you unraveled this puzzle?” she asked as soon as they were out of earshot.

“No,” Rees admitted grimly. “I haven't. The connections between the deaths continue to elude me.”

*   *   *

Annie must have been watching for them. As soon as Rees and Lydia entered Mrs. Baldwin's yard, the girl raced out of the house. “I thought you were gone,” she wept, hurling herself at Rees. “I thought you'd left us.”

“I would never do that,” Rees said, awkwardly patting Annie's back. He looked at Lydia in dismay. “Help me,” he mouthed at her. Smiling, Lydia moved forward and detached the girl from Rees.

“Everything is fine now,” she said.

“We'll be going home in a few days,” Rees said, catching Lydia's gaze. “I miss the children.”

She nodded. “I do, too.”

Annie wiped her streaming nose upon her sleeve. “I was so scared.”

“There's nothing to worry about anymore,” Lydia said soothingly. “You'll begin your new life soon.”

Annie hiccoughed. “He smells,” she announced, looking at Rees.

“He does indeed,” Lydia agreed.

“I'll take a basin of water into the barn and wash up,” he said. “Then we'll go to supper. I'm famished.”

He borrowed a kettle and a few rags from Mrs. Baldwin, whose nose wrinkled at his approach. Rees decided he would change his clothes as well, after his bath. He filled the basin with water from the trough. Warmed by the sun, it would be pleasanter to wash with this rather than the icy cold water from the well. He set it up on a mound of hay and stripped to his waist.

The water felt cool and refreshing on his hot skin. He scrubbed away the sweat and dirt from his face and had started on his neck and chest when Billy came into the barn. He dropped into a pile of straw. “Annie told me what you did,” he said. “Thank you.”

“It was very little,” Rees said, his voice muffled by the rag over his face. “But you're welcome.”

“And the map, it helped you?”

“Yes. I couldn't have reached Hulls Cove without it.” There was a silence but Billy did not leave. Rees realized the boy was hoping to hear some details from Rees's investigation. He didn't intend to oblige.

“I heard you helped pull a drowned sailor out of the harbor,” Billy said, grasping for another topic.

“You heard about that, then?” Rees said.

Billy nodded. “At the ropewalk.” He paused. “Why did you risk your life for a drowned man?”

He wasn't drowned. But Rees didn't say that aloud. No one on the dock had noticed the sword wound, and neither Twig nor Rees had told anyone, so the news hadn't gotten out to the wider world. Until it did, Rees preferred to keep that piece of information a secret. Maybe the killer was still ashore and would make a mistake. “I'm assuming he's a sailor,” Rees said now. “Because of the tattoos.”

“What were they?” Billy asked. “Some of them have meanings.”

Rees paused, trying to recall what he'd seen. “He had a rope tattooed around his right wrist and what I think was a compass on his right bicep.”

“The compass rose,” said Billy in a knowledgeable tone. “Many sailors have the compass rose. It's to help the sailor find his way home again. Did he have anything on his left arm?”

Rees hadn't looked specifically. He tried to picture the body lying on the board in Twig's shed. “Yes,” he said, “I think so. And on his back was a ship, fully rigged.”

“Then he went around the cape,” Billy said. “Many whaling men have that; it shows they hunted whales in the Pacific.”

“Billy.” Mrs. Baldwin's voice floated into the barn.

Billy sighed. “I have to go in for supper now. But if you need any more help,” he put a little bit of swagger into his voice, “just ask me.”

Rees suppressed his chuckle. “I'll do that,” he said.

But he sobered at he finished his wash and threw the water out into the yard. He had less than a day left to solve the puzzle.

When Rees entered the room to collect the two females, Annie greeted him with a fresh bout of weeping. He looked at Lydia in surprise. “Annie is glad to see you, aren't you, Annie?” Lydia said. She shot a quick warning frown at Rees. He nodded. Despite having sisters and having been married twice, the female heart was frequently too mysterious for him to understand. “Let's go to supper,” he said.

“But what if my mother changes her mind?” Annie protested, still frightened.

“I don't think she'll bother you,” Lydia said in a no-nonsense voice.

“We'll keep a sharp lookout,” Rees promised. “Is she really your mother?”

Annie shrugged. “She says so. But who knows? I could be the child of one of her whores. I don't remember anything else but the house.”

Through the gathering dusk, they walked to the Moon and Stars. Rees nodded at the proprietress and the man behind the bar in greeting. The young serving girl looked at Annie, who was scarcely five years younger, and then looked around the crowded establishment before finally motioning the little family to a table close to the kitchen. “At last,” Rees said as they sat down, “a decent meal.” He had to pitch his voice loud and even then, with the roar of conversations all around him, could hardly hear himself. He leaned forward and said to Lydia, “What I can't work out is a connection between a common sailor and the wealthy owner of a merchant company.”

“I saw Mr. Boothe sometimes in the tunnels,” Annie said, her child's high voice piercing the bass growl of male voices like a knife. “He used the tunnels to go to the docks.” Lydia shook her head warningly at Rees—it was time to choose another topic of conversation—but he ignored her.

“Did you see anyone else in the tunnels?” And then, realizing he had to be more specific, he added, “Going to the Boothe door, I mean. For instance, a man with wavy dark hair and gold earrings.”

“I saw him once or twice,” Annie said. “And twins. Brown hair. But usually I saw a blond man. I saw him many times.”

Twins? Rees hadn't met or heard anything about twins. But a blond man—now, that could be Peggy Boothe in disguise or Matthew Boothe. Or both. Matthew might have used the tunnels to hide his visits to the Black Cat.

“Of course,” Annie continued, “other men went to other doors.”

“How did you see all this?” Lydia asked. “It's dark in the tunnels.”

“Not everywhere,” Annie said. “Some places there are glass panels, into gardens and such. And most of the men who travel though the tunnels carry a lantern.”

“And you followed them?” Rees guessed.

Annie dropped her eyes to her hands. “Sometimes,” she confessed. “I was curious. Especially about the men who came into the Black Cat.”

Rees and Lydia exchanged a glance over the girl's head. “Tell me more about the tunnels,” Lydia said.

“The wealthy shipping captains built them, mostly,” Annie said. “Not sure why. All the warehouses are on the docks. Someone in the house was talking about plans to extend the tunnels.”

Rees could think of several reasons, smuggling being only one of them. The tunnels allowed easy movement from place to place in secret. Something floated tantalizingly into his mind, but before he could grab hold of it, Lydia began speaking about the Shakers at Zion and the moment passed.

*   *   *

Sitting in a chair with his feet resting upon the windowsill did not promote the necessary comfort and serenity for sleep. That night, once again, after trying and failing to find a relaxing position, Rees gave up. He lit a candle and went to his loom. This was just plain weaving, with scraps, so if he made mistakes it wouldn't matter. The rhythmic strokes helped him to think—and he desperately needed to work though this knot. Who was the unknown seaman? What had Billy called the tattoo on the sailor's arm? The compass rose. Rees knew he had noticed that tattoo on someone else before he'd seen it upon the body, but he couldn't remember where. Just that he'd met this sailor on one of the ships tied up at the Salem docks; Rees recalled the hot sun blazing down upon his shoulders. But he couldn't remember which wharf, and when he tried to drag out the memory, it was the Boothe jetty and the
India Princess
he thought of. Everything brought him back to Peggy.

Rees's thoughts began to drift and scatter. Annie turned over in the bed and muttered something and he started, rising to partial wakefulness, and lifting his head from the warp. Time for bed. He blew out the candle and settled down in the chair by the window, his head resting upon his arms on the sill. Tattoos: they were the key. And Billy had said something else …

He awoke to Lydia's hand upon his shoulder. “You were mumbling in your sleep,” she said. She held a hairbrush in one hand. Annie sat on the bed, one side of her head with combed hair, the other still bushy and tangled. Slowly, painfully stiff, Rees sat up. Both arms were numb. He stretched and tried to shake off the dream—the black sailor, sharp knives in either hand, had been pursuing Rees across the docks.