was stiff. Rigor mortis doesn't set in
until a few hours after death. Maybe even later if the weather's
cool. I'm hoping the doctor will answer that one, so we can try to
guess at the time Brant died. I'm on my way now to get her, or—"
Cullen motioned toward the shop "—is Neva still in there?"
"No, she couldn't stay long. Several
children at the Women's Refuge have been sick, and she had been
with them round the clock, so she was worn out. By now she's likely
home with Abraham."
"And will not be happy about being rousted
out again," Cullen commented. "Well, it can't be helped. I want her
to see Brant's body before it's moved."
If the circumstances hadn't been so grim,
Glynis would have found Cullen's insistence on Neva Cardoza-Levy
amusing. When Neva had first come to town four years ago, Cullen
had been as disturbed as many others at the idea of a female
doctor. But in a matter of months, she had proven herself more than
capable, and Cullen, to his credit, had openly voiced his change of
heart. Just six months ago, he'd succeeded in having Neva appointed
deputy coroner of the village, a heretofore unheard-of position for
a woman. Not that she and Cullen didn't continue to snipe at each
other, and sometimes argue heatedly; the arguments nearly always
centered on the taverns and alcohol that Neva believed responsible
for at least half the ills she encountered in her practice. The
primary reason, in fact, that she had opened the Seneca Falls
Refuge for Women and Children.
"Glynis, while I'm fetching the doc, I'd
like you to go to the Brant house," Cullen said, his overly casual
manner making her suspect it was not a spur-of-the-moment request,
but something he'd intended all along. "Someone might slip," he
added, "and say something useful to you."
"You can't think that one of Roland Brant's
own family murdered him," Glynis protested. "That's not only
dreadful, but it seems far-fetched."
"Not any more far-fetched than the notion of
a stranger just walking in and stabbing Brant in his own library!
Besides, Glynis, you know his family—"
"I don't know them at all well," she broke
in.
"Doesn't matter. They might say more to you
than they have to me."
He took a lantern from a post and handed it
to her, saying, "There's a near-full moon rising, so you probably
won't need this, but take it anyway."
Not giving her time to object, he remounted
the Morgan. "If you start walking now, I'll catch up with you
before you get to the house."
"The Brants will resent my intrusion," she
argued, remembering to keep her voice down. "And if a family
member was cold-blooded enough to murder Roland Brant, and then
remain there at the house...well, why should that person suddenly
become rattled enough to say something incriminating? Cullen, I
don't think this is a good idea."
"I do."
"But I'm not adept at this sort of
thing."
"You're as adept as anyone else around here
and then some," he said, turning the Morgan and urging it forward
before Glynis could think of a more persuasive argument.
She stood watching him ride down Fall
Street, wondering as usual why she possessed so little backbone.
She should have simply refused Cullen; although it did occurr to
her that the Brant household must be in a terrible state. While she
had seen Roland Brant infrequently, he had always been generous
when donating money to the library, and there was the possibility
she might be of some help if one of his family needed it. She
certainly owed the man that. Moreover, regardless of what Cullen
might expect, she hadn't consented to do anything else.
She swung the lantern back and forth a few
times and, still debating with herself, reluctantly began to walk
up State Street.
Why would someone murder Roland Brant? It
was true that he had considerable wealth and was subject to the
predictable envy levied against one who had much when others had
little, but it was hard to imagine that envy alone could kill. Yet
what other possible reason could there have been
until a few hours after death. Maybe even later if the weather's
cool. I'm hoping the doctor will answer that one, so we can try to
guess at the time Brant died. I'm on my way now to get her, or—"
Cullen motioned toward the shop "—is Neva still in there?"
"No, she couldn't stay long. Several
children at the Women's Refuge have been sick, and she had been
with them round the clock, so she was worn out. By now she's likely
home with Abraham."
"And will not be happy about being rousted
out again," Cullen commented. "Well, it can't be helped. I want her
to see Brant's body before it's moved."
If the circumstances hadn't been so grim,
Glynis would have found Cullen's insistence on Neva Cardoza-Levy
amusing. When Neva had first come to town four years ago, Cullen
had been as disturbed as many others at the idea of a female
doctor. But in a matter of months, she had proven herself more than
capable, and Cullen, to his credit, had openly voiced his change of
heart. Just six months ago, he'd succeeded in having Neva appointed
deputy coroner of the village, a heretofore unheard-of position for
a woman. Not that she and Cullen didn't continue to snipe at each
other, and sometimes argue heatedly; the arguments nearly always
centered on the taverns and alcohol that Neva believed responsible
for at least half the ills she encountered in her practice. The
primary reason, in fact, that she had opened the Seneca Falls
Refuge for Women and Children.
"Glynis, while I'm fetching the doc, I'd
like you to go to the Brant house," Cullen said, his overly casual
manner making her suspect it was not a spur-of-the-moment request,
but something he'd intended all along. "Someone might slip," he
added, "and say something useful to you."
"You can't think that one of Roland Brant's
own family murdered him," Glynis protested. "That's not only
dreadful, but it seems far-fetched."
"Not any more far-fetched than the notion of
a stranger just walking in and stabbing Brant in his own library!
Besides, Glynis, you know his family—"
"I don't know them at all well," she broke
in.
"Doesn't matter. They might say more to you
than they have to me."
He took a lantern from a post and handed it
to her, saying, "There's a near-full moon rising, so you probably
won't need this, but take it anyway."
Not giving her time to object, he remounted
the Morgan. "If you start walking now, I'll catch up with you
before you get to the house."
"The Brants will resent my intrusion," she
argued, remembering to keep her voice down. "And if a family
member was cold-blooded enough to murder Roland Brant, and then
remain there at the house...well, why should that person suddenly
become rattled enough to say something incriminating? Cullen, I
don't think this is a good idea."
"I do."
"But I'm not adept at this sort of
thing."
"You're as adept as anyone else around here
and then some," he said, turning the Morgan and urging it forward
before Glynis could think of a more persuasive argument.
She stood watching him ride down Fall
Street, wondering as usual why she possessed so little backbone.
She should have simply refused Cullen; although it did occurr to
her that the Brant household must be in a terrible state. While she
had seen Roland Brant infrequently, he had always been generous
when donating money to the library, and there was the possibility
she might be of some help if one of his family needed it. She
certainly owed the man that. Moreover, regardless of what Cullen
might expect, she hadn't consented to do anything else.
She swung the lantern back and forth a few
times and, still debating with herself, reluctantly began to walk
up State Street.
Why would someone murder Roland Brant? It
was true that he had considerable wealth and was subject to the
predictable envy levied against one who had much when others had
little, but it was hard to imagine that envy alone could kill. Yet
what other possible reason could there have been
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