here after the War. You know Mr. and Mrs. Bowditch. Yes?”
“I knew Nate,” Rees said. “But I hadn’t seen him for almost twenty years.”
“You must know more than I do. Nobody will tell me anything. Or they lie.”
Rees nodded in reluctant sympathy. “I know. They lie to me, too.”
“I find that hard to believe. Mrs. Bowditch hired you to clear her son’s name, not find the killer.”
“Maybe. But I will find the murderer, her son or no.”
Caldwell caught the determination in Rees’s voice, and after a long steady scrutiny of the weaver’s expression, he nodded. “Then I see she has mistaken her man,” he said.
Rees sat down, relaxing for the first time since entering this room, and the two men regarded each other more warmly. “Did you learn anything from Richard?” Rees asked at last.
Caldwell dropped into a chair opposite. “He didn’t like his father. But I knew that. Their arguments were the stuff of gossip throughout Dugard. And he certainly didn’t help his case when he bolted.”
“He’s frightened,” Rees said.
“With good reason,” Caldwell said. “One of the hands, a Mr. Fred Salley, saw Richard leaving the weaver’s cottage. He was covered with blood.”
Rees stared. He remembered Molly alluding to Mr. Salley, but not as though he had anything important to say.
Smirking at Rees’s startled expression, Caldwell helped himself to another doughnut. “I daresay Mrs. Caldwell forgot to mention that little fact. I suspected so.” Rees did not mistake the gloating expression that flashed across Caldwell’s face. “Talk to Mr. Salley; he’ll tell you. What’s more, I’m sure other people saw Richard but are keeping their mouths shut. The Bowditch family is important hereabouts.” He added in a low voice, “And I admit I hope Richard is innocent as well. I’ll have the devil of a time making anything stick against him.”
Furious, and trying not to reveal it to the constable, Rees said, “I’ll speak to Mrs. Bowditch again. As soon as possible.”
“You might want to speak to the nursemaid, too,” Caldwell added, grinning.
“Kate? Why? Surely you don’t believe she’s the killer,” Rees said.
“You’ll understand when you see her.” Caldwell grunted in frustration. “I haven’t managed to speak to her at all; she runs from me. But maybe you, as a friend of the family, can persuade her to talk. Perhaps she knows where he’s hiding.”
Rees, resenting Caldwell’s sneer, elected not to mention Augustus’s connection to the family. It was possible the constable already knew—Dugard was not that large a town, and God knows, people talked. But he gave no sign that he did, and Rees knew Rachel hadn’t told him.
“I’ll speak to her,” Rees said. Caldwell nodded and, snagging another doughnut, went out whistling.
Rees sat for several minutes longer, trying to control his anger. He couldn’t wait to speak to Molly Bowditch, and when he deemed himself calm enough he stomped determinedly out of Nate’s office. But, although he peered into every room he passed, he saw neither Mrs. Bowditch nor Marsh. Finally he ran down the stairs into the kitchen. The hot air floated up to envelop him with the sweet aroma of roasting beef.
“We need more help,” Mary Martha was saying as Rees approached the women. Rachel looked at him almost accusingly, but it was Mary Martha who spoke. “We don’t have time to speak to you now, Mr. Rees. Not with dinner barely an hour away.”
Gasping in the stifling heat, Rees nodded and fled through the open door into the kitchen yard. Even the warmth of a September day felt cool after the hellish temperature inside. Cows lowed in the distance, and somewhere nearby he heard the shrill treble of a child.
He stood for several minutes in the kitchen yard, growing angrier by the minute. No wonder Caldwell whistled. Whatever threat he imagined Rees represented had now been effectively dismissed. Rees knew he’d come off as a
“I knew Nate,” Rees said. “But I hadn’t seen him for almost twenty years.”
“You must know more than I do. Nobody will tell me anything. Or they lie.”
Rees nodded in reluctant sympathy. “I know. They lie to me, too.”
“I find that hard to believe. Mrs. Bowditch hired you to clear her son’s name, not find the killer.”
“Maybe. But I will find the murderer, her son or no.”
Caldwell caught the determination in Rees’s voice, and after a long steady scrutiny of the weaver’s expression, he nodded. “Then I see she has mistaken her man,” he said.
Rees sat down, relaxing for the first time since entering this room, and the two men regarded each other more warmly. “Did you learn anything from Richard?” Rees asked at last.
Caldwell dropped into a chair opposite. “He didn’t like his father. But I knew that. Their arguments were the stuff of gossip throughout Dugard. And he certainly didn’t help his case when he bolted.”
“He’s frightened,” Rees said.
“With good reason,” Caldwell said. “One of the hands, a Mr. Fred Salley, saw Richard leaving the weaver’s cottage. He was covered with blood.”
Rees stared. He remembered Molly alluding to Mr. Salley, but not as though he had anything important to say.
Smirking at Rees’s startled expression, Caldwell helped himself to another doughnut. “I daresay Mrs. Caldwell forgot to mention that little fact. I suspected so.” Rees did not mistake the gloating expression that flashed across Caldwell’s face. “Talk to Mr. Salley; he’ll tell you. What’s more, I’m sure other people saw Richard but are keeping their mouths shut. The Bowditch family is important hereabouts.” He added in a low voice, “And I admit I hope Richard is innocent as well. I’ll have the devil of a time making anything stick against him.”
Furious, and trying not to reveal it to the constable, Rees said, “I’ll speak to Mrs. Bowditch again. As soon as possible.”
“You might want to speak to the nursemaid, too,” Caldwell added, grinning.
“Kate? Why? Surely you don’t believe she’s the killer,” Rees said.
“You’ll understand when you see her.” Caldwell grunted in frustration. “I haven’t managed to speak to her at all; she runs from me. But maybe you, as a friend of the family, can persuade her to talk. Perhaps she knows where he’s hiding.”
Rees, resenting Caldwell’s sneer, elected not to mention Augustus’s connection to the family. It was possible the constable already knew—Dugard was not that large a town, and God knows, people talked. But he gave no sign that he did, and Rees knew Rachel hadn’t told him.
“I’ll speak to her,” Rees said. Caldwell nodded and, snagging another doughnut, went out whistling.
Rees sat for several minutes longer, trying to control his anger. He couldn’t wait to speak to Molly Bowditch, and when he deemed himself calm enough he stomped determinedly out of Nate’s office. But, although he peered into every room he passed, he saw neither Mrs. Bowditch nor Marsh. Finally he ran down the stairs into the kitchen. The hot air floated up to envelop him with the sweet aroma of roasting beef.
“We need more help,” Mary Martha was saying as Rees approached the women. Rachel looked at him almost accusingly, but it was Mary Martha who spoke. “We don’t have time to speak to you now, Mr. Rees. Not with dinner barely an hour away.”
Gasping in the stifling heat, Rees nodded and fled through the open door into the kitchen yard. Even the warmth of a September day felt cool after the hellish temperature inside. Cows lowed in the distance, and somewhere nearby he heard the shrill treble of a child.
He stood for several minutes in the kitchen yard, growing angrier by the minute. No wonder Caldwell whistled. Whatever threat he imagined Rees represented had now been effectively dismissed. Rees knew he’d come off as a
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