Tried Read online

  Needless to say, I preferred the gardens and lawn to the confinement of the house. The property is bordered by woods, which I was strictly forbidden to enter. Of course I went into them secretly from time to time, and was caught at this once or twice, but it was well worth any lecturing or additional confinement I was ordered to endure for the transgression.

  One drizzly day, while I sat reading near a window, I saw a man carrying a shovel, making his way across the lawn, toward the woods. He glanced back and I quickly leaned away from the window, although I doubt he saw me watching. His face was concealed by a woolen scarf wrapped round it, and his hat was pulled low.

  My mother was away at a meeting of one of her societies. My stepfather, who is a portly man, not of the build of the man who crossed the lawn, was in his study. Neither was the man one of our staff—both the butler and my stepfather’s valet were much older; the stable lads much younger; the gardener taller and more slender; the coachman much taller, and away, driving my mother to her meeting.

  Curious, I put on a dark wrap and stealthily made my way downstairs. I left the house unseen, or so I thought.

  By the time I reached the lawn beyond the gardens, the man had disappeared into the woods, but I was easily able to follow his footprints across the dampened grass. The same was true within the woods. I followed them farther into the trees than I had ever gone before. I was a little frightened, but also excited.

  Soon I heard the sound of the shovel at work and slowed my approach. I came within sight of him and hid myself well.

  He grew heated from his labors and removed his hat and the muffler about his face. It was then that I recognized him as Mr. Briggs, the “detective” hired by my stepfather.

  I came a little closer to see if I could determine why he was digging a hole in our woods. I soon saw that he was not digging a hole. He was exhuming a body.

  My sister Amelia lay in a shallow grave, in a state that horrified me. Her pink dress was filthy but recognizable, her flesh decayed, so that little more than a skeleton remained. Strands of her golden hair, clotted with the dark stain of blood, lay near her head, where a great wound had been inflicted. Her locket lay on her sunken breast, her gold ring near the bones of one hand.

  I saw the man take the locket and ring, and then . . .

  She fell silent, and Tyler wondered if he was about to lose contact with her, but she went on.

  I wish I could tell you more, but I have no memory of what happened next, other than hearing a sound behind me and feeling a blinding pain as I was struck on the back of the head. I have not been able to speak sensibly since, and have been subject again to seizures—quite different from the ones I suffered as a child.

  * * *

  They are probably a result of the injury, Tyler said, as is your difficulty with speech.

  * * *

  It doesn’t matter, except that I can’t tell you more about that day. The sisters should know my medical history if you need it. I am convinced that my stepfather is behind this, that he conspired with this man to murder my sister.

  * * *

  Show me your memories of the woods, of the man.

  * * *

  Quickly, she did. It is my mother I worry about now, Dr. Hawthorne—is it Dr. Hawthorne or Captain Hawthorne? Oh—I understand. It is both.

  * * *

  Whichever you please, or Tyler.

  * * *

  Tyler, then. This is most urgent, Tyler. With all three of her children gone, my stepfather stands to inherit all of the substantial fortune left to my mother by my grandfather. While she lives, it is out of her husband’s control. While he rightly understands that his social acceptance depends on her, it is only a matter time before he finds the requirement of her approval of his expenditures inconvenient. Promise me you will do what you can to help her, and to bring my stepfather and his henchman to justice.

  * * *

  “I promise,” he said aloud, then, realizing the others were looking at him, added quickly, “that all will be well. Be at peace.”

  She smiled and closed her eyes. Oh, how lovely! I must be going, but I thank you with all my heart. She paused then added, I’m to tell you the fevers will come much later but be much worse this time, that Colby and Shade will care for you, and Colby will tell you where you are needed next.

  * * *

  Colby! In his surprise, he nearly said the name aloud.

  * * *

  Yes. Good-bye, Tyler. Good-bye, Shade.

  The dog moved nearer the bed and gave a great sighing breath.

  She opened her eyes again and looked at the faces of those surrounding her. “Thank you, kind sisters,” she said aloud. “Please thank Sister Rosaline for starting this place. Give my love to my mother and ask her to heed what Dr. Hawthorne has to say.”

  She let loose of his hands, closed her eyes again, and a moment later, died.

  FOR ALL ITS BREVITY, HER SPEECH TO THOSE AT HER DEATHBED caused amazement. Leaving the others to care for the body, Sister Elizabeth ushered Tyler and Shade into her office. “Dr. Hawthorne, please remain with me for a moment,” she said, taking a seat behind a plain desk, and inviting him to be seated in a more comfortable chair.

  She sat silently for long moments, her head bowed. When she looked up at him again she said, “Susannah Bailey has not spoken so clearly since we brought her here!”

  “Tell me more about her case.”

  Sister Elizabeth frowned. She repeated much of what Susannah had told him, that Susannah’s childhood epilepsy had been quite different and had abated. “Ten years ago, she was brought to Sisters Hospital—which, as you know, is operated by our order—by her stepfather, Mr. Podgett. She had a severe head injury.” Sister Elizabeth paused. “The story he gave was that she fell in the woods near her home, a place forbidden to her, and was only by the greatest piece of luck found by him.

  “Fortunately one of the best physicians on the staff treated her wounds. Later, when he reviewed her history with me, he told me that he believed that she was struck from behind and then fell forward onto a rock or tree root. He thought it miraculous that she survived the blow.”

  “Someone struck her?” Tyler asked, thinking that if suspicions were already raised, his task would be easier.

  “Her doctor believed so. The front of her dress was muddy, but not the back, and yet the greater injury was to the back of the skull. If she had, for example, struck her head on a tree branch and then fallen back against a rock, the back of her dress would have been muddied and the front relatively clean.”

  “Were the police informed?”

  “Yes, but I believe their prejudices concerning epileptics made them unwilling to investigate. I doubt they even visited the Podgett home.”

  “So she returned home from the hospital?”

  “Yes, briefly. Although she survived the injury, she became subject to severe seizures. Mr. Podgett convinced his wife that Susannah might be a danger to the household. Susannah was committed to asylum at the almshouse, and nearly died there. We were still in the process of building this asylum at the time she was injured, but once we were ready to receive patients, she was one of the first Sister Rosaline asked to be moved here, as we could see she was subjected to abuse at the almshouse.”

  “As she said, Susannah was grateful for that rescue.”

  Sister Elizabeth was silent for a time. She looked between Tyler and Shade, then said, “It would be a great shame to question a miracle, wouldn’t it?”

  “Sister, I may need your further—er, unquestioning—help.”

  She raised her brows.

  “I will not ask you to lie or to hide the truth. In fact, I need you to attest to the truth. But I am . . . under an obligation to this family, and will need your help to fulfill it. Tonight. I am afraid I must ask you to travel with me in this foul weather. Another life may depend upon it. Perhaps more tha
n a life.”

  “Dear me!”

  Shade stared intently at her.

  “Does he bite?” she asked warily.

  “He won’t bite you.”

  She suddenly laughed. “Is that the sort of truth I’m to give others tonight? Actual, but limited in scope?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid so.”

  “Hmm.” She thought for a time, and he suspected, prayed as well. She said, “A small favor for someone who has been so kind to us and has never asked anything in return. All right, if I am not to lie, and as long as you understand that I will tell the full truth if I deem it important to do so, I will come with you.”

  “Thank you.”

  There was a small commotion heralding the arrival of Susannah’s mother, and they left the office to meet her. When they brought her to Susannah’s room, her grief over the loss of her daughter struck Tyler as genuine and profound. When told of the role of Dr. Hawthorne and Shade, and of her daughter’s last words, she broke down into sobs. Shade leaned against her, something Tyler thought might bring an objection, but she put her arms about him and wept into his soft coat. He shouldn’t have worried, Tyler thought. He had often seen Shade provide comfort.

  Tyler waited patiently. Eventually she gathered her composure and allowed Sister Elizabeth to take her into the office. Tyler considered the best course of action to take from here. Knowing the truth, or most of it, and conveying that truth to others in a way they would find believable were two different matters.

  He thought this over and listened while Mrs. Podgett discussed the business of making arrangements for her daughter’s burial. The Baileys were not Catholic. Mrs. Podgett had purchased lots in Forest Lawn and planned to be buried one day next to her daughter.

  When all was settled, Tyler said, “I know this is a very difficult time for you, Mrs. Podgett, and may become more difficult still, but I gave your daughter a promise, and I am hoping you will help me to fulfill it.”

  Whether too numbed by grief to resist, or curious or mindful of her daughter’s last words, she agreed to accompany him to a place she would never have dreamed of visiting, and offered the use of her carriage.

  Evidently the porter and the other staff had been speaking to the coachman of the occurrences witnessed at his young mistress’s deathbed, for he made no objection to going out again in a driving rain, nor to a dog entering the carriage. After Sister Elizabeth, Mrs. Podgett, and Shade had entered this luxurious conveyance, he touched the brim of his hat to Tyler and said in a choked voice, “We all loved her, sir. Thank you.”

  “For what little I did, you are welcome.”

  “Where to, sir?”

  “The county jail,” Tyler said ruefully.

  “The county—!” He eyed Tyler for a moment, then said, “I’ll be escorting madam in with you.”

  “I think that is an excellent idea. Don’t worry, we’ll all be coming back out again.”

  “Never a doubt of that, sir,” he said with a nod, and secured the door after Tyler climbed in.

  THE SHERIFF’S DEPUTY, ASKED FIRMLY BUT POLITELY BY A leading citizen—who was accompanied by an imposing coachman, a nun, a physician, and the biggest dog he had ever laid eyes on—complied with the request to bring forth one Zeb Nador. He also agreed that he and another deputy would stand guard over Nador, however superfluous they might be, given the looks of Mrs. Podgett’s company. The doctor’s saying that they hoped to solve several murders in the course of the interview made him envision congratulations from his boss.

  When he left to retrieve the prisoner, Tyler said, “Mrs. Podgett, I hope this will not be too great a shock to you, but I fear your daughter Amelia is also dead.”

  “Oh, yes,” she said calmly. “My husband knew I worried over her, so he sent Mr. Briggs, the detective he had hired to find her when she left us, to contact her again and attempt to convince her to come home. That was several years ago, about the time Susannah was injured. Mr. Briggs found her husband, who said Amelia had died in childbirth and the infant son soon after. He sent her locket and ring home with Mr. Briggs, and asked us not to contact him again, as he was about to remarry. I’m afraid I was so grief-stricken at the thought of losing Amelia and a grandson, I did not attend to Susannah as I should have. And then Andrew was lost at sea. . . . You knew him?”

  “I met him briefly. You have every reason to be proud of him.”

  “Thank you. I am,” she said, and brought out her handkerchief.

  At that moment, the deputy brought in Zeb Nador, who seemed as shocked by the company as Mrs. Podgett was to see him.

  “Mr. Briggs!” she exclaimed in surprise. She turned to the deputy. “Why have you arrested Mr. Briggs? He’s a detective!”

  “He’s no more a detective than I’m the king of Siam!” the deputy protested. “His name’s Zeb Nador and he murdered a girl last Friday night and will stand trial for it. I thought there must be some mistake, you asking for him.”

  “I was with her husband,” Nador said boldly. “And so he’ll testify.”

  “He’ll do no such thing!” Mrs. Podgett said. “He was with me. Any one of a hundred people may swear to it—we attended the theater together.”

  “He never!” Nador said, turning pale.

  “Seldom,” she agreed, “but he did last Friday.”

  “Of all the d—” He stopped himself, eyeing Sister Elizabeth uncomfortably.

  “Mrs. Podgett,” Tyler said, “to be certain matters are clearly understood by the deputy, is this the man who was introduced to you by your husband as a detective?”

  “Yes, certainly.” She turned to the coachman. “Is it not so, John?”

  “Yes it is,” he said grimly, tapping his whip against his boots.

  “You may be interested to know that Mr. Nador was aboard the ship upon which your son Andrew also served.”

  “What?” she stared at Nador in shock. For a moment it seemed she would swoon. Sister Elizabeth moved to her side, as did John, to offer her support.

  “I’m sure the navy has records of it, and of the investigation that could not quite prove that Mr. Nador had caused Andrew Bailey to go overboard in a storm.”

  “I was cleared of that! Cleared!”

  “They may reopen that case when they hear that you played a role in two other deaths in the family.”

  “This is nonsense! What do you have to say to anything anyway? Who are you?”

  “Dr. Tyler Hawthorne. You may not be aware that Miss Susannah Bailey passed away this evening.”

  “Sorry to hear it. I always felt sorry for that poor lunatic and it was sad about her brother and her sister. But I had nothing to do with no deaths.”

  “Just before she died, Miss Bailey regained the power of speech.”

  “You are lying! That’s impossible.”

  Sister Elizabeth spoke up. “You say you do not believe Dr. Hawthorne. Will you believe me?”

  Nador swallowed hard under the piercing look she gave him. Tyler believed nuns must train for this, and that even Shade would be hard put to compete with that stare.

  Shade looked up at him as he thought this.

  Well, maybe not.

  The dog wagged his tail.

  “Of course I will, Sister,” Nador said, breaking into a sweat.

  “Then heed me, Mr. Nador, before you face a greater judge than any here on earth. I am here because I cared for Miss Susannah Bailey for several years. I am here because she spoke very clearly before she passed away. I am not the only witness to this fact.”

  “Thank you, Sister,” Tyler said. He turned back to Nador. “Susannah Bailey followed you into the woods near her home. She watched you uncover the shallow grave you had made for the body of her sister Amelia, and take from it a locket and ring.”

  A moaning sound came from behind him, and he heard the coachman helping Mrs
. Podgett to a chair.

  “It wasn’t me who struck her down,” Nador said, but without the defiance he had shown earlier.

  “Of course not. She was facing you, and the blow came from behind. But you saw the man who did it.”

  “Podgett, of course! Podgett hit her so hard I thought I’d have to bury her beside her sister! And it was him who killed Amelia, not me! What he did— ” He glanced at Mrs. Podgett, then murmured, “I won’t say, not with her mother sitting right there before me!”

  “You were in his employ?”

  “He paid me to bury Amelia, all right. Paid me plenty. He paid me to pretend to look for her. He paid me to tell that story about her husband and a baby—he made all that up. If he hadn’t hit the lunatic in the woods, he would have killed her some other day—he wanted those kids out of the way. Even used his influence to allow me to sail on his son’s ship.”

  “Arrest him!” Mrs. Podgett said.

  “Ma’am?” the deputy said.

  “Arrest my husband,” she repeated in a steely voice. “Arrest that son of a bitch this instant, or I will go home and ask John to horsewhip him—”

  “Gladly,” the coachman growled.

  “And then I’ll shoot my husband before he has a chance to stand trial.” She drew a deep breath. “I will wait here while you do your duty. You may also inform him that I will be obtaining a divorce. And leaving my fortune to the Providence Lunatic Asylum and my loyal servants.”

  “Mr. Nador,” Tyler said, “there are those who will say that you are a murderer and committed these crimes yourself, and hoaxed Mr. Podgett into believing your story about Amelia, all for your own gain. Did you keep any proof of your dealings with him?”