A Changing Light by Edith Maxwell (feel good books to read txt) 📕

turning. A section along the back wall held various structural components, half of which I didn’t know the function of.

The crowd was made up mostly of men. The smell of tobacco and hair pomade scented the air, but it was diluted by the chill breeze coming in from outside. A few women perused the wares, and I glimpsed Luthera among them, deep in conversation with William Parry across the room. She certainly seemed to be devoted to her father’s business.

I wandered among the vehicles. I supposed after our baby grew into a child, and definitely after more children came along, David and I would want to purchase a carriage larger than his two-person doctor’s buggy. But surely not one manufactured by Parry and company. A Bailey or a Clarke carriage would be of higher quality.

I stroked the high wheel on a runabout, casting my gaze over the gathering. Ah. In the far corner stood Zeb, an arched undercarriage part in his hands, looking like he was explaining it to a portly gentleman. I headed in that direction, but I didn’t get far before William Parry intercepted me.

“Mrs. Dodge, good afternoon. Shopping for a new carriage, are we?” He beamed. “This runabout is a fine vehicle for a lady to drive. Easy to handle, not too large.”

“It’s a very nice carriage, but I’m not looking to purchase at this moment, no.” I gestured around the room. “This open house looks very well attended.”

“Yes, indeed. I venture a guess that we are drawing more interest this week than is any other firm.”

Unlikely, I thought, but I kept my opinion to myself. “That will be good for thy business. If thee will excuse me, I want to say hello to my friend Zebulon.”

“Mr. Weed is a most excellent fellow to have about. Most excellent. He has quite the way with customers.”

I made my way to Zeb and waited, gazing at the wall of component parts until the man with whom he was speaking turned away.

“Rose, what a nice surprise,” Zeb said. “Thee is looking well.”

“As is thee, Zeb, and making some sales, by the looks of it.”

“I’m doing my best.” He lowered his voice. “I’d rather be working for Robert Clarke or the Baileys. The quality of their products is much superior.”

“I would have to agree with thee.”

He frowned at me and continued to speak softly. “But thee isn’t here to buy a carriage. Thee must have heard of Justice Harrington’s death. Is thee investigating his murder?”

“I admit I’m attempting to gather a few facts to help the police.”

“An avocation at which thee excels.”

“Zeb,” I matched his soft tone. “One thing I’ve learned is that a night watchman saw thee in the very alley where the body was found. On that same night. I know thee wasn’t involved in the death, but can thee tell me what thee was doing there?”

“No,” he said in a rush. The smile slid off his face and his expression turned grim. “I was doing nothing. I wasn’t there. This watchman is lying.”

I opened my mouth to object but closed it before I spoke. Despite sensing that it was Zeb who lied, it wasn’t my place or business to challenge his account. Let Kevin do that.

I touched his arm. “I’m glad to hear thee was far from the violent deed.” Had Annie’s brother in fact lied? But why? And what was the reason for Zeb’s grim look?

His nostrils flared as he caught sight of something over my shoulder.

Oh. Kevin suddenly stood at my elbow, in a gray serge suit instead of a uniform. I’d apparently conjured him up by merely thinking of him. But no uniform? Perhaps civilian attire was what a chief of police was supposed to wear. Or maybe he was trying not to be conspicuous as an officer of the peace. Which was all very well for the strangers to town, but anyone from Amesbury well knew Kevin’s profession.

“I’m surprised to see you here, Miss Rose.” Kevin clasped his hands behind his back. “Good afternoon, Mr. Weed.”

“Greetings, Detective.” Zeb bobbed his head. “If thee isn’t here to purchase a carriage, I’ll be off to my customers.”

“Actually, Weed, I’d like to have a word with you,” Kevin said, his voice steely. “In private, if we might.”

Uh-oh.

Zeb’s eyes shifted left and right, as if he wanted to escape. Had I sealed his fate by passing along Pete’s report? It would kill Faith if Zeb were guilty of any misdeed. The ultimate violent act of homicide? I couldn’t even imagine how she would react. Or . . . perhaps I could.

“Two Quakers and a detective, is it?” William Parry said from a few paces away.

His tone was hearty, but his visage countered it. The factory owner looked either nervous or worried. I couldn’t tell which

“What can we help you with today, Mr. Donovan?” William went on. “I hear you’re now heading up our fine department of boys in blue, as it were.”

“Mr. Parry, I have a little matter to clear up with Weed here,” Kevin replied. “Can you spare him for a few minutes?”

“Of course, of course,” William said. “In fact, you can use my office. Mr. Weed knows where it is. Anything to help keep the peace in our fair town.”

Zeb cast me a desperate glance before leading Kevin through a door to the side of the showroom.

“Has my best young salesman done something wrong, Mrs. Dodge?” The worried expression was gone. William sounded downright jovial. “Only a criminal act would merit the attentions of our chief of police.”

“No.” I gave him my sternest look. “Zeb is an honest and law-abiding person, William. I won’t hear of thee even mentioning the idea of him committing a crime.” Even though I was the one responsible for bringing Kevin here.

“Very well, then, Mrs. Dodge. I suppose you’re putting your best detective skills to work solving this wretched killing that has threatened to derail our entire Spring Opening.”

“Not at all.” I kept my voice level. “I’m simply caring for ladies bringing new