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

He nodded, but he’d narrowed his eyes, and his gaze was on the closed door to his office. The concerned look had returned. Why did I have the feeling he was worried for himself, not for his employee?

Chapter Sixteen

David and I drove in the buggy to my brother-in-law’s home at six o’clock. It wasn’t too far, but the night had turned colder, and we’d be returning home not until after the family dinner Frederick and his new wife, Winnie, had invited us to.

“I stopped in at Orpha’s this afternoon, but Alma said she was in a deep sleep,” I said. “David, I fear she might slip away any day now.”

“That is the way of it.” He shifted the reins to one hand and patted the thick driving blanket covering our legs. “You’ll miss her deeply.”

“I shall.”

“Will Faith and Zeb be at the house tonight, do you think?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” I held on as we jostled over a bumpy section of Sparhawk Street. “So much happened today I wanted to discuss with thee.”

“About the murder investigation?”

“Yes, mostly.” I twisted my gloved hands together. “One part of it is that Annie’s brother Pete, a night watchman, apparently saw Zeb that night in the same alley where the body was found. This afternoon I popped into the Parry showroom to speak with Zeb, but Kevin showed up and took him off for a chat in private.”

“Zeb? He’s a fine, upstanding young man, and a Quaker, to boot. He wouldn’t have killed anyone.”

“Never. But when I asked him about what Pete related, he said the man was lying, that he hadn’t been there. He got a rather grim look on his face when he said it. I’m worried about what he might be hiding.”

“Don’t you think Faith probably knows?” He clucked to Daisy to turn onto Center Street.

“I’m not sure. She told me he’s been working late this week during the Spring Opening.”

“Kevin Donovan is a good man. He won’t haul Zeb in on false charges.”

“I hope not.” Kevin had made mistakes before. He’d better not this time. We pulled up in front of the Baileys’ modest house, which I had called home for several years. My oldest nephew, Luke, trotted down the front steps. At fifteen, he was still growing and was as much of a beanpole as always. His voice had stopped cracking, though, and was now a pleasant baritone.

“I’ll see to Daisy, David. Here, Aunt Rose. Let me help you down.” Luke extended his hand.

“Thank thee, dear Luke.” I kissed his cheek once I reached the ground, then left the two of them to unhitch the sleek roan mare and put her in with Star, Frederick’s horse. I made my way through the side door into a warm kitchen fragrant with roasting meat. I also spied apple pies cooling on a shelf.

“Winnie,” I said to the plump aproned woman at the stove. “These pies are works of art and they smell heavenly.” One had strips of crust woven into a lattice, and the other was decorated with stars cut out of pastry dough.

She turned and smiled. “Hello, Rose, darling. Those beauties are Mark’s doing.”

Nephew Mark, now twelve, had become interested in cooking last year. His twin, Matthew, didn’t share the drive to create delicious food.

“How is thee?” Winnie asked.

“I am well, thank thee. This wee one is growing apace.” I patted my full waist.

“As it well might. I’m glad to hear it.”

“Will Faith and Zeb be here?”

“No.” She leaned down and drew a large pan of scalloped potatoes out of the oven, nicely browned on top, and set it at the edge of the stove. “She said they’re both busy with the Opening. Terrible news about that poor Canadian, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

Winnie wiped her hands on her apron. “Rose, I heard a disturbing rumor at the market this afternoon.” She glanced toward the door to the sitting room and lowered her voice to a whisper. “I overheard someone saying the police think Zeb might be the killer. That has to be wrong. How could they think he might have committed such an evil act?”

“A night watchman spied him in the alley, that’s how.” I let out a breath. “My detective friend, now the acting chief, talked to Zeb this afternoon, but I don’t know what came of the conversation. I agree, Zeb wouldn’t hurt a soul.” I removed my cloak and hat and hung them, then sank onto a chair at the already-set table.

David and Luke hurried in from outside, and Winnie and David exchanged greetings. David pulled off his gloves and shed his coat, while Luke went to the pump in the sink to wash his hands.

“It looks like you’ve outdone yourself, Winnie,” David said with a smile.

Betsy, now ten, rushed in from the front. “Auntie Rose, Uncle David!” She wrapped David in the biggest hug, blond curls escaping her long braid.

“Hello, sweet Betsy,” I said to her, but I made my way to Luke at the back of the kitchen.

“Thee knows Annie’s older brother, doesn’t thee?” I asked him in a low voice.

“Pete? Sure.” He wiped his hands on a towel. “He was helping with our ragtag baseball team last summer. He’s a night watchman now.”

“I know. Would thee say he is an honest type?”

“I think so.” My nephew cocked his head. “Why does thee ask?”

“It’s complicated.” If Pete had told an untruth, why? And if he hadn’t, that meant Zeb was lying, with an even bigger why hanging unanswered.

“Is this about the murder?” His eyes widened.

“Frederick, boys,” Winnie called to the other room. “Rose and David are here, and dinner is ready.”

“It might be,” I murmured.

Chapter Seventeen

In the buggy in front of Alma’s house, I turned toward David at a few minutes before eight. We’d finished our pie with the Baileys when the telephone had rung in the other room. Frederick answered and summoned me, saying it was Alma. My heart went heavy as I rose and went