Murder on Principle Read online

  Contents

  Cover

  Also by Eleanor Kuhns

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Author’s Note

  Also by Eleanor Kuhns

  The Will Rees series

  A SIMPLE MURDER

  DEATH OF A DYER

  CRADLE TO GRAVE

  DEATH IN SALEM

  THE DEVIL’S COLD DISH

  THE SHAKER MURDERS *

  SIMPLY DEAD *

  A CIRCLE OF DEAD GIRLS *

  DEATH IN THE GREAT DISMAL *

  * available from Severn House

  MURDER ON PRINCIPLE

  Eleanor Kuhns

  This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  First world edition published in Great Britain and the USA in 2021

  by Severn House, an imprint of Canongate Books Ltd,

  14 High Street, Edinburgh EH1 1TE.

  Trade paperback edition first published in Great Britain and the USA in 2022

  by Severn House, an imprint of Canongate Books Ltd.

  This eBook edition first published in 2021 by Severn House,

  an imprint of Canongate Books Ltd.

  severnhouse.com

  Copyright © Eleanor Kuhns, 2021

  All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. The right of Eleanor Kuhns to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988.

  British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

  A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

  ISBN-13: 978-0-7278-5007-2 (cased)

  ISBN-13: 978-1-78029-797-2 (trade paper)

  ISBN-13: 978-1-4483-0536-0 (e-book)

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Except where actual historical events and characters are being described for the storyline of this novel, all situations in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is purely coincidental.

  This eBook produced by

  Palimpsest Book Production Limited,

  Falkirk, Stirlingshire, Scotland

  ONE

  Totally focused on the current state of politics and the coming election between John Quincy Adams and Thomas Jefferson – Will Rees did not care for either candidate – he did not hear the hoofbeats pounding up behind him. He was on the last leg of his journey from town and he could in fact see the turn off to the lane that led to his gate.

  ‘Rees,’ Constable Rouge called. ‘Will Rees. Stop.’

  Rees darted a glance over his shoulder and, spotting the churning legs of Rouge’s bay, reluctantly pulled to the side of the road. As the mud-splashed forelegs pulled alongside of the wagon, Rees tipped his head back to look into the face of his pursuer.

  Black-haired and black-eyed, and with a scraggly beard, Rouge looked even more unkempt than usual.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Rees asked in annoyance. ‘I just left town.’

  ‘You didn’t stop by the tavern,’ Rouge said. A tavern owner by trade, he also served as the town constable. With a sinking feeling, Rees guessed Rouge was not here to discuss ale.

  ‘What happened?’ he asked in resignation.

  ‘We have a body,’ Rouge said.

  ‘Of course we do,’ Rees said. Although not a constable or even a deputy, but with a gift for detection, he had assisted Rouge, and many others besides, in identifying murderers. Still, Rouge’s sudden appearance surprised Rees. The constable, who always tried to best Rees, would not ask for help if he could avoid it.

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Here. On your farm.’ Rouge grinned, revealing his stained and rotted teeth.

  ‘What?’ Rees cried, aghast.

  ‘Yes.’ Rouge tipped his flat-brimmed hat back. He had worn that headgear ever since Rees had known him and the brim was ragged from the constant application of Rouge’s fingers. He looked at Rees’s horrified expression and chuckled. ‘But not on the acreage you farm. Where they do it.’ He nodded to the fields on Rees’s right. The Shakers from the nearby community of Zion tilled this section of the farm that Rees’s wife had inherited. The issue of ownership – the Shakers laid claim to the property – still was not resolved.

  ‘Who found the body?’ Rees asked. It was already within two weeks of November’s end and the furrows between the cut stalks glistened with ice. Few would choose to be out and about now.

  ‘Brother Jonathan,’ Rouge said, referring to the senior Elder at Zion. ‘He sent a boy into town. Jonathan said he was searching for a lost cow.’ He grimaced to illustrate his disbelief.

  Rees ignored Rouge’s doubt. The relationship between constable and Shaker Brother had been conflicted, Rees would say antagonistic, since their first meeting. But the fact that the body was found on property the Shakers farmed, and Brother Jonathan had found it, would place the suspicion on them.

  ‘He’s waiting with the body,’ Rouge said. And then, almost diffidently, he added, ‘I thought, since it was found on your farm, you might want to join me.’

  Rees stared at the other man in surprise. Where was the belligerent and self-confidant man Rees knew? But when he examined the constable’s face, he noted the heavy eyes and pale cheeks. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Just a little tired,’ Rouge replied, shrugging off Rees’s query. ‘Well, will you come?’

  ‘Of course,’ Rees said. He did not want his farm to be tarnished with even the suggestion he or any of those he loved could be guilty. And he knew that the more ignorant members of the town would immediately assum
e one of the Shakers was the murderer. Rees knew that could not be true. They were pacifists and to a large extent a kind and gentle people.

  ‘Where do we go?’

  Rouge pointed down the road, toward a dead tree. Now Rees could see a figure wearing black; Brother Jonathan no doubt.

  ‘Go on,’ Rees said. ‘I’ll follow you.’

  Rouge dug his heels into the bay’s sides and the horse jumped forward. A wave of cold dirty water splashed up, covering Rees’s stockings with icy mud. He swore. He had not adopted the new fashion of trousers and his legs were already cold from the chilly fall air. Muttering under his breath, Rees slapped the reins down on Hannibal’s back and they slowly started forward.

  Brother Jonathan, warmly clad in a heavy coat, scarf and hat, was pacing back and forth. Besides the dead tree, missing its top and half its bark, and pocked with holes left by woodpeckers, there were several other smaller trees. A few rust-colored leaves still clung to their branches; otherwise they appeared as dead as the lightning-struck splintered trunk. Jonathan pointed over his shoulder at the weir behind him. ‘This way is quickest.’

  Rees climbed down from his wagon and went to examine the small dam. Most of the rocks that made up its construction were dry, although the thin sun glittered from some random bits of ice. ‘All right,’ he said.

  ‘Isn’t there any way to ride there?’ Rouge asked unhappily. His lips tightening, Jonathan shook his head. Grumbling, Rouge dismounted. Rees eyed the constable’s boots. Riding boots, almost to the knee, and with silver spurs attached at the heels. They did not look appropriate for a hike across the late autumn countryside. As Jonathan turned and started walking, Rouge said, ‘Wait. Wait.’ He detached the spurs and put them in the saddlebag. Then he tied his horse firmly to one of the trees and pronounced himself ready.

  Rees had crossed the weir a few times, always in the summer when the water was low. Then it had been enjoyable. Now, with the wind sweeping across the water, it was quite cold. Rees could hear Rouge swearing as his smooth leather soles slipped on the rocks. They reached the other side and within a few steps crossed the narrow wooden bridge. The new stream ran along the edge of the fields. During dry times the Shakers used it for irrigation.

  Now the three men entered forest. Fallen leaves formed a russet surface and crunched underfoot. Everything except the evergreens looked dead. ‘How did you happen to find the body?’ Rees asked Jonathan as they tramped deeper into the woods.

  ‘You’ll see,’ Jonathan said.

  ‘The constable said you were searching for a cow?’ Rees persisted. Jonathan looked at him sharply. Rees hadn’t meant to sound dubious, although the Shakers were so careful with their livestock the loss of a cow did seem a little unbelievable.

  ‘Yes.’ And then, spurred by what he thought was Rees’s disbelief, Jonathan hurried on. ‘She and some others were split from the herd. They are sick and need to be cared for separately. Several ran away. She is the only one still missing.’

  ‘Ah.’ Rees guessed one of the boys had been instructed to move these cattle and his inattention had led to the escape.

  They walked more deeply into the forest and Rees began to wonder how they would make their way out again. Everything looked the same: the lichen-spotted, gray, leafless trunks all around, the reddish leaves underfoot, and the masses of downed trees tangled in the skeletons of climbing weeds. The green stands of the pines provided welcome relief to the eyes.

  It was to one such thicket of pine that Jonathan pointed. ‘The body is there. When you circle to the other side, you will see …’ His voice trailed away.

  Rees exchanged a glance with Rouge and they increased their pace. And, just as Jonathan had promised, as they neared the firs, Rees spotted something yellow on the ground ahead. It was not a fallen leaf yellow but a bright lemon. He began to trot, his shoes sliding on the damp leaves. The ground rose a little here but as soon as Rees crested the small incline, he saw the form on the ground; the bright waistcoat a beacon.

  ‘Here,’ he called to Rouge, who was struggling to keep his footing. ‘He’s here.’

  Rouge panted up the slope to Rees’s side. ‘Sacre Bleu,’ he muttered as he stared down at the body. ‘What is this fashionable gentleman doing in our Maine woods?’

  TWO

  Rees inspected the body. The man lay on his back, arms and legs flung out as though he’d been dropped here, an unwanted parcel. But he was not a local man. No one, not even the wealthiest among the townsmen, dressed so fashionably. Besides the vivid yellow waistcoat, with another of red beneath it, he wore a frock coat and a white linen cravat. His fawn-colored pantaloons were tucked into Hessians, polished to a gloss. Like the under waistcoat, the turn-down cuffs on the boots were red. Over it all, he wore a long overcoat.

  But he was bareheaded, his fair hair nestled in the leaves.

  ‘Where’s his hat?’ Rees wondered aloud. ‘A gentleman of such fashion would hardly be seen without one. And it would probably be of beaver, besides.’

  ‘He had one,’ Rouge said.

  Rees turned an astonished glance upon the constable. ‘You know him?’

  ‘Yes. No. Mr Randolph Gilbert and I played cards a few times. He’s been here a little less than a week. He and his man arrived when? Last Wednesday? Thursday?’

  Rees nodded. Today was Monday. That would mean Mr Gilbert had been in town for about five days. Rees guessed Mr Gilbert had been dead at least one day, maybe two. The cause of death was not immediately obvious. The only marks Rees saw from this preliminary examination were a scattering of red spots marring the pale forehead.

  ‘He is a Southern gentleman who came looking for some escaped slaves,’ Rouge said, looking at Rees with his sharp black eyes. ‘A girl and her baby who, he said, appeared white. He said he tracked them all the way up the coast. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?’

  Rees squirmed. Just one month ago he and his wife Lydia had returned from Virginia, where they’d gone at their friend Tobias’s request to rescue his wife. But they had returned, not only with Ruth, but also with a young girl and her baby. He had done his best to keep this secret but word had clearly gotten out. ‘We must get the body back into town,’ he said instead of responding to Rouge. ‘But how?’

  ‘And how did he get here?’ the constable asked, looking around.

  ‘We are not too far from a lane we use during harvest,’ Jonathan said. ‘Here. I’ll show you.’

  He continued walking at an angle from the evergreens. Through the thick growth of the pines and the trunks of oak and maple, the deadfalls and the dead stems of last year’s growth, Rees could see a faint lightening. He would not have noticed it at all if Jonathan had not begun walking to it. In the summer, it would be totally invisible.

  ‘Wait here,’ Rees said to Rouge as he hurried after Jonathan.

  It took close to twenty minutes to reach the lane. They circled around tree roots, ripped from the ground and pointing to the sky, and pushed through the dead stems from last year. Rees paused several times to examine the ground, but the scuffed leaves told him only someone had come through here, and that someone was probably Jonathan.

  ‘What?’ Jonathan asked, watching Rees inspect everything around him.

  ‘A strong man could have carried the body into the woods,’ Rees said, adding, ‘and it wouldn’t have taken long.’

  The lane, barely more than a track, was narrow and heavily rutted. Rows of apple trees stretched away on the other side as far as Rees could see. When he looked behind him, into the woods, he realized he could not see Rouge at all. The evergreens were clots of green against the ever present gray and brown.

  ‘How did you happen to enter the woods?’ Rees asked Jonathan curiously. ‘These woods, right here?’

  ‘I heard the lowing of a cow. She must have come this way.’ Jonathan’s forehead wrinkled anxiously. ‘I don’t want to lose her in the woods.’

  ‘Whoever hid the body chose well,’ Rees said. But for the sic
k cow, it might have lain there until long past next spring and by then no one would have been able to identify it. ‘How far to your village?’

  ‘Maybe twenty minutes, that way, walking,’ Jonathan replied. ‘By wagon, much less.’

  ‘Hmmm. Good. Thank you. Let me fetch the constable …’ Rees turned and walked back the way he’d come. If he hadn’t had his eyes firmly fixed on the stand of pines, and if Rouge’s black hat hadn’t become visible, Rees would have soon been lost.

  ‘We’ll go through Zion,’ Rees said when he reached the other man. He wasn’t sure he could find his way through the forest to the weir.

  ‘Are we far away?’ Rouge asked. ‘My feet are killing me.’ He had found a log and was sitting upon it, legs outstretched.

  ‘Not too far,’ Rees said, not altogether truthfully. He held out a hand to help Rouge to his feet.

  The two men followed the lane out of the forest, across the fields, and past the barns and sheds where the livestock were kept. Once they reached the village, Rouge refused to take another step. Rees realized the constable probably could not continue walking; by then he was limping and groaning with pain. ‘Blisters?’ Rees asked.

  ‘I could have ridden my horse there,’ Rouge replied sullenly, ‘if I had known of that lane. Walking through the trees was not necessary.’

  ‘No matter,’ Rees replied. ‘I’ll get my wagon. We’ll need it anyway to bring the body into town.’ He sighed. This would not be the first time his wagon had been used to transport the dead. ‘I’ll tie your horse onto the wagon as well. You can wait here.’ He started walking, wishing he had some way of letting Lydia know he would be late home. It was early afternoon now but by the time he finished transporting the murder victim into town and then returned home, dusk would be fast approaching. He wanted to be home before dark. He hadn’t brought his lanterns; he hadn’t thought he would need them.

  Although he hurried, the walk to his wagon took longer than he expected. When he glanced at his pocket watch, he saw it was past three. As the sun dropped westward, the bald spots on the tree trunk shone white. Rees tied Rouge’s bay to the back of his wagon and started for Zion. It did not help his mood to see Rouge seated comfortably on the steps to the Dwelling House and eating a large slice of bread and a slab of meat. Rees, who’d expected to eat his dinner when he arrived home, and was now quite hungry, scowled at the constable. ‘Where did you get that?’