A Circle of Dead Girls Page 15

  ‘Watch out,’ he warned. ‘Your face will take on an unflattering bronze.’

  ‘I don’t care,’ she said.

  Rees understood. The winters here in Maine seemed to last forever. Sometimes it felt as though he waited forever for summer and then it passed in the blink of an eye.

  He collected his horse and wagon and assisted Lydia into the seat. Once they turned onto the main road his thoughts reverted to the murder. If Boudreaux was innocent, and he certainly seemed to be, the murderer must be someone else traveling with the circus. Rees considered all of the people he’d met, and the ones Asher had described: the refugees from the wars in Europe. Rees didn’t want to believe any of them guilty but what did he know about them anyway?

  ‘You know,’ Lydia said, breaking into Rees’s thoughts, ‘other people travel.’

  He looked at her. ‘Like me, you mean?’ he asked with a bleak smile.

  ‘I was thinking more of people with a regular route.’ Lydia hesitated and then continued reluctantly. ‘The Shaker Brothers regularly make selling trips throughout the area. And Brother Aaron was one of the men who went out most. He enjoyed traveling.’

  ‘Probably when the rules of the community began to wear on him,’ Rees said. In this, he understood Aaron.

  ‘For most of us in the Family, the community is a refuge,’ Lydia said. ‘But for Brother Aaron, well, I think sometimes the rules feel like more of a prison.’ She had once been a Shaker and she continued to feel a close bond with the faith and the people in it.

  Rees recalled his journey west through Maine and his final arrival at the circus. Aaron, already there, was clearly very comfortable traveling through the world outside Zion. ‘How often did Aaron travel?’ he asked.

  ‘Often, especially during spring and summer,’ Lydia replied. ‘And I heard him say he followed a regular route.’

  Rees turned to look at his wife. ‘We need to speak to him again as soon as we can,’ he said.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  When they reached the junction of the main street with Surry, Rees turned, heading for Zion. It was mid-morning now and, as they passed the fields, Rees saw the Shaker Brothers laboring among the neat rows. He wondered where Aaron was. His specialty appeared to be cattle so Rees hoped he would have a short walk rather than a long one to find the man.

  Zion’s main street was empty of people; everyone was working at this time of the day and would not reappear until it was time for prayers before the noon dinner. Rees pulled Hannibal to a stop and jumped down. He peered in the barn but saw no sign of anyone.

  Lydia climbed down as well and came up behind him. ‘I expect most of the men are working in the fields today,’ she said. Turning to look over her shoulder she continued, ‘But at least some of the Sisters will be in the kitchen. I’ll ask there.’

  Rees watched her cross the road, her skirts belling out in the breeze, until she disappeared behind the Dining Hall. How many times had he stood here, in the street, his gaze following her as she disappeared into this community that had once been her home. He knew she missed the peace she’d found in this faith but thought – hoped – that this emotion had faded with time. Especially now that she had a child of her own.

  Lydia was gone longer than he expected and he was beginning to feel anxious when she suddenly appeared, not from the Dining Hall, but stepping out on the steps of the Dwelling House. Sister Esther followed her. Neither woman looked happy and Rees guessed he was about to hear news he would not like.

  ‘Aaron is gone,’ Lydia said when she was still several feet distant.

  ‘He ran off again,’ Rees said, aghast.

  ‘Not exactly,’ Esther said. Rees looked at her. Her mouth was pressed so tightly together it formed a thin line and the skin of her face was stretched over her cheekbones. ‘He was expelled.’

  ‘What?’ Rees looked at Lydia for an explanation, but it was Esther that spoke.

  ‘He’s disobeyed our rules more than once and indicated his disdain for some of our practices. This time he left Zion without permission and then lied about it. We could not ignore his transgressions any longer.’

  Rees could feel his dismay spreading like a cold wave throughout his body. ‘But he … I wanted to speak to him.’

  ‘Do you really believe Aaron guilty of Leah’s death?’ Esther sounded like she just couldn’t force herself to pronounce the terrible word ‘murder’.

  ‘I don’t want to believe it,’ Rees replied, choosing his words with care. After all, he had known Aaron for some years now. ‘But I cannot ignore any possibility. And,’ he added reluctantly, ‘Aaron was on the lane. Without permission. And without anyone knowing he was gone.’

  Esther nodded, her gaze drifting over Rees’s head to the barn and the blacksmith’s building beyond. When she spoke again her voice was flat, lifeless, as though all the hope had been drained from it. ‘Lydia and I looked at the record of Aaron’s journeys. Although I can’t tell you where he went, the dates he was on the road overlap with some of the dates of those other murders.’

  ‘The ones I remember,’ Lydia interjected.

  ‘And the record sometimes has a notation – gone south toward Massachusetts,’ Esther added, ‘so some of the general locations match as well.’

  Rees looked at Esther, pity sweeping through him. ‘This doesn’t mean he’s guilty,’ he said gently. ‘All we know for sure is that it is possible he is the culprit.’

  ‘Besides being difficult, Brother Aaron has always been secretive,’ Esther said, lowering her eyes to the dusty street. ‘Unfortunately, I’m all too certain he could be the guilty man. This is not the first time I have seen sin masquerading as sanctity.’

  ‘What of his past then?’ Lydia asked. ‘Do you know anything that might reveal his character?’

  Esther turned a haunted expression upon the other woman. ‘We don’t know. We don’t ask about people’s pasts. We assume the Lord has brought them to our door. But even here, most of us drop hints about their lives. It is impossible, I think, to entirely forget one’s past. Only not Aaron. Never Aaron. So, although we can speculate, we know nothing about him.’ She looked at Rees before turning and walking away.

  Rees and Lydia exchanged a glance, both speaking aloud their thought at the same moment. ‘We have to find Aaron.’

  It was nearing noon when Rees and Lydia pulled into the farmyard. He released Hannibal into the pasture and followed his wife inside. Only two children, Joseph and Sharon, were seated at the table their heads together. The older ones would remain at school until three or so – at least for another month. Lydia had taken off her bonnet and was now tying on her apron. The yeasty aroma of fresh baked bread perfumed the air; Annie had made it to accompany last night’s stew. Rees stifled a sigh. It seemed as though they’d eaten nothing but stew, and sometimes bacon, for months. He was very tired of both.

  After the meal, he released Daisy and her calf into the field and checked on his very small sheep flock. Several of the ewes had given birth to lambs but there were too many males among them. He would have to cull out the excess, a job he hated even more than all the others. He could hardly bear to kill them, and always ended up leaving more alive than he needed. But on the positive side, he reflected, lamb would be a welcome change to the family’s diet.

  He’d also begun shearing the sheep but even with Lydia’s help could hardly manage. When it seemed likely he would cut the sheep if he kept on, he abandoned the job until he could get help. Damn! He’d meant to ask Jonathan if some of the Brothers would help him with the shearing for a day or two. Especially with the ram, a big and very strong male that was as likely to break Rees’s arm as anything else.

  He went to the sheep pen. Most of the lambs seemed sturdy; there were only a few weak ones. He would cull those first, feeling guilty the entire time although it was necessary for the health of the flock. But not today. Today he would weave. Feeling as though he were on his way to a few hours of leisure, Rees went upstairs to finish the cloth o
n his loom. He inspected the remaining warp and decided that he had told Lydia the truth: a few more hours would complete this yardage. He would probably be able to cut it from the loom the next day and bring it to his customer shortly after.

  This was his final commission for the winter. He hoped at least some of the farm wives had worked at spinning and would now have many skeins of yarn for him to weave into cloth. With the increased availability of fabrics imported from the Orient, some women had gladly abandoned spinning, weaving and dyeing and purchased their dress goods.

  Rees sat down on the bench and began. He had spent so much of his life weaving that now he did not have to think about it at all. His hands and feet knew what to do without conscious thought and his mind began to wander. At first, he thought of farm chores. Spring was always a busy time and there was a lot to do. But then his thoughts detoured to the murders. So much had happened that it seemed like months instead of just over a week since Leah’s body had been discovered in Reynard’s buckwheat field. And now, sadly, Leah’s death had been shown to be one of several. Rees’s thoughts danced from the responses to Rouge’s inquiry to the body of the boy in Grand Forks. But he wasn’t part of this; Grand Forks hadn’t seen the murder of a young girl. So why did that murder niggle at Rees?

  ‘Are you going to be much longer?’ Lydia’s voice made him jump. His concentration broken, he turned to look at her.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Do you want me to have Annie milk? Daisy’s in distress.’

  ‘I’ll be done in just a few minutes,’ Rees said. Turning to look at the amount of warp left on the beam he added, ‘Maybe fifteen minutes.’

  ‘I’ll ask Annie to milk then.’

  As her footsteps receded down the stairs, Rees looked out the window. The long rays of the sun shining golden through the window told him it was well past milking time. The final push to finish this commission was taking longer than he expected. He didn’t want to stop now. And now that he looked at the cloth he saw he’d made a slight mistake earlier in the cloth. Rees wondered if he should rip out the few inches and redo them but decided, with the varying thicknesses of the yarn the mistake was almost unnoticeable.

  Rees stepped on the treadle. As the shuttle went from side to side, he tried to pick up the thread of his thoughts. He’d been thinking of the circus but of course the murderer might not be from the show. Brother Aaron could have followed the same route as the circus or, at least, intercepted it at certain points. Although the Shakers themselves were considered peculiar, a gypsy performer would more likely be suspected of murder, wouldn’t he? Of course, he would. Rees paused with his shuttle held aloft. Committing rape and murder within proximity of the circus would be an intelligent scheme for deflecting suspicion. And Brother Aaron, although difficult, was intelligent.

  What about Grand Forks? The constable there had expelled Asher’s circus from the village. But Aaron must have traveled through that hamlet when he’d been pursuing Shem and no young girl had fallen victim to the murderer. Still, something about Grand Forks bothered Rees. What was it? He prodded the itch. The name of a fellow traveler, someone no one would suspect but who followed a circuit through this area several times a year, bubbled up from the depths of his mind: Piggy Hanson. He had been in Durham and in Grand Forks; Rees had seen him. And who would suspect a magistrate of such a heinous crime?

  Rees recalled the magistrate’s carriage; those wide upholstered seats and the curtains. With them closed the interior of the carriage would be private. Few would dare disturb the magistrate if the carriage was pulled aside into a secluded area. And Paul Reynard had seen the magistrate’s carriage at the proper time.

  Hanson was as likely a murderer as Aaron. In fact, the more Rees considered his old nemesis, the more likely he appeared. ‘I just have to confirm his circuit,’ Rees said to himself. But he was already sure Hanson’s circuit would match up to the route the circus had taken.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  ‘Are you mad?’ Rouge shouted when Rees presented his latest theory the following morning. They were seated once again in the constable’s messy office. Rees had insisted on privacy; his suspicions were too explosive to discuss in public. Rouge had reluctantly agreed. ‘Magistrate Hanson?’ he said now. ‘Impossible. I think your wife is correct and the murderer is Aaron. It’s just not natural for a man to live celibate. A man’s urges can’t be denied; anyone would snap.’ Since Rees, who had heard this diatribe more than once, was not listening, the constable paused. Taking a breath, he asked, ‘What does your wife think?’

  Rees hesitated. The irony of Rouge asking for Lydia’s opinion was not lost on Rees but he did not want to answer. She had been so annoyed he was leaving the farm again that she hadn’t been willing to listen. ‘I didn’t tell her,’ he admitted. ‘I will, though.’

  ‘I thought you told her everything,’ Rouge said mockingly.

  ‘Listen,’ Rees said, suppressing his flicker of guilt. He did usually tell Lydia everything. Her irritation had made a wedge between them. ‘Hanson can travel around his territory without anyone questioning him. And is there anyone who would believe a magistrate could be guilty of these crimes?’

  ‘Exactly,’ Rouge agreed. ‘Who would believe it? I know some of your most outlandish ideas have been proven true. But this time – no.’

  ‘You don’t know Piggy the way I do,’ Rees said. ‘He’s cruel and vindictive.’

  ‘So you’ve said,’ Rouge said with a frown. ‘But that doesn’t make him a killer.’

  ‘I just have a hunch,’ Rees said.

  ‘That isn’t good enough, especially if you’re going after a wealthy and powerful man.’ Rouge blew out his breath. ‘Look. I’ll get you a list of the towns on the magistrate’s circuit. We’ll start there. But you better have a lot more than a hunch if you’re going to prove him guilty.’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ Rees said. ‘I won’t ignore Brother Aaron – once I find him – or the circus performers either. When I finally accuse someone, I’ll have all the proof you need to back it up.’

  Rouge blew out another breath, his gaze resting on Rees almost in admiration. ‘I can’t decide if you’re courageous or just a fool,’ he said.

  ‘Maybe both,’ Rees said. But he was on the hunt now and would not stop until he knew all the answers.

  ‘Constable.’ A lean and wiry man, a farmer already sunburned from days in the fields, knocked at the door as he poked his head inside. ‘That circus – one of the wagons is broke down out on West.’

  ‘They were having trouble with an axle,’ Rees said.

  ‘Looked like a wheel to me,’ the farmer agreed.

  ‘Guess we’d better go and see what the problem is,’ Rouge said. ‘Damn! It’s impossible to make an honest living. Someone always dragging me away from the tavern.’

  ‘You wanted them here,’ Rees pointed out. ‘Now here they are.’

  ‘How far out are they?’ Rouge asked. ‘Do I need my horse?’

  ‘Nah. They’re just past the market.’

  Glancing at one another, Rees and Rouge rose to their feet at the same instant.

  They walked to the fairgrounds. The circus wagons were visible but were stopped a mile distant on West Road. ‘I guess they’d better pull into the fairgrounds,’ Rouge said, sounding irritated, as he broke into a trot. Rees jogged along by the constable’s side.

  The problem was immediately obvious; despite the iron band circling the wheel, the wooden sections had begun to fracture. With the added strain, even the iron had bent. The wagon tilted dangerously toward the ground. And when Rees crawled under the other side, he saw that the repairs to the axle, consisting of several boards nailed to the shaft in what looked like a random manner, had begun to fail. Crawling out again he said to Asher, ‘You need a new axle and probably a new wheel now.’

  The blood left Asher’s face. ‘How much will that cost?’ Today he wore a shabby wrinkled shirt and blue breeches with a neckerchief tied around his throat. He looked like one o
f the rowdy laborers.

  Rees shrugged. ‘You’ll have to talk to the wheelwright.’

  ‘For now,’ Rouge said, shoving himself into the conversation, ‘all the wagons will have to park at the fairgrounds.’ He gestured behind him.

  ‘How will we get this one there?’ Asher asked.

  As several men spoke up, each with a different idea, Rees walked around the wagon and examined it. Unlike his large wagon with low sides and no roof, this vehicle was more like a small box on wheels. Each side boasted a window and when Rees passed the open door he saw that the inside had been set up as living quarters: a small bench that probably doubled as a bed, a chair, and a curtained area at the other end. A tiny incised metal object was affixed on the right side of the door. He leaned forward to peer curiously at the small object. Through one of the holes he spied something that looked like paper. He could not imagine what it might be but then he supposed it was something circus people did.

  When he straightened up he caught the eye of a woman dressed all in black. She did not look familiar but then even the performers he’d seen looked unrecognizable out of costume. She stared at him, her eyes wide and her skin pasty with fright. He smiled at her. She took two steps back, uttering a low keening, and disappeared around the corner.

  Rees stared after her, unsettled by the encounter. That woman had seemed completely terrified. What had he done to frighten her so?

  TWENTY-SIX

  In the end, they needed rollers and two oxen borrowed from a nearby farmer, to shift the circus wagon. The horses simply weren’t powerful enough. Then several men, Rees included, heaved the wagon onto the rollers. Even Otto was not strong enough to do this on his own. The oxen pulled, the wagon moved forward. The wagon was shoved upright so the second roller could be placed underneath. The oxen pulled and the wagon moved forward. Several men pushed the wagon up so the free roller could be placed underneath. The process was repeated over and over. Rees lost count. It was hard and sweaty work and the men took it in turns.