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

He plopped down next to me, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Mother showed up at the opera house, weaving and slurring. Maybe she’d heard there would be free refreshments of the alcoholic variety, I don’t know.”

“And?” A red-tailed hawk keened as it circled overhead, with its raptor’s high-pitched cry, as if wailing for Prudence’s affliction.

“I left to walk her home. William Parry wasn’t happy with me, but I told him I would be back.”

“What time did you leave?”

He frowned. “I think it was a little after ten. These affairs stretch into the night, and it was the first one of the week. They had musicians playing, and everyone was hobnobbing with great energy.”

Which would make it difficult for those inside to hear a pistol shot. “Please think carefully. Were Luthera and Justice Harrington still at the opera house when you left?”

“The Canadians? Yes, I believe so.”

“Thee said William was there. How about Ned Bailey?”

He pulled his mouth to the side. “I’m not sure about him.”

“When thee escorted thy mother home, did thee see anything suspicious?”

“No, although I heard someone in the dark coughing, as if he was ill.”

“Could thee tell it was a man’s cough?” I asked. “The tubercular rale can be deep.”

“True.” He narrowed his eyes. “Perhaps I’m not sure of the sex.”

“What time did thee return to the opera house?”

“I . . . wait.” He sat up straight and twisted to gaze at me. “On my way back, I thought I heard someone running.”

“But thee didn’t see anyone running?”

“No.”

“Nor a body in the alley.”

“No!” His eyes went wide. “I would have reported such a sight immediately.”

I thought. “What about when thee rejoined the gathering? Did thee see any of those people I mentioned? Justice, Luthera, William, Ned?”

“I can’t help with that. As soon as I reentered, I was cornered by some Brazilian gent I could barely understand. I truly witnessed nothing of import.”

“I understand. Did thee tell all of this to the police?”

“I might not have.” He tilted his head. “They didn’t ask the way you did.”

“Don’t worry. I will relay what thee told me. Did thee catch the Brazilian’s name, by the way?”

“He was a Mr. Amado. I think his first name was something like George, except he said it softer, like Zhor-zhee.”

“Green eyes?”

“Yes.” His own blue eyes widened. “How did thee know?”

“It doesn’t matter. Now, go home and tell Faith everything. She loves thee. She will understand.”

“I will.” Zeb blew out a noisy breath through his lips. “Rose, I thank thee. Will thee pray with me for a moment? I could use God’s guidance in thy presence.”

“As could I.” We two Friends folded our hands in our laps and closed our eyes right there next to the public thoroughfare. Nowhere on this earth was the wrong place for praying. I held Zeb and Faith, Prudence and Kevin, and myself in God’s Light. I had faith that justice—the legal kind, as it was too late for the mortal one—would be served, as Way opened.

Chapter Twenty-nine

It didn’t take long to cycle the rest of the way down Main Street to the wide Merrimack River. I continued left along Point Shore on Merrimack Street, which paralleled the water, to Lowell’s Boat Shop. Other establishments also made ships and boats next to the river. Lowell’s had been in business for nearly a hundred years and had a fine reputation.

A couple of minutes later I sat in Jonathan Sherwood’s small office with the din of hammers, saws, and men’s voices in the shop only slightly muffled by the door. A different, older woman sat in the front reception area, not the young, attractive one from a year ago.

“How can I help you, Mrs. Dodge?” Jonathan folded his hands on the desk, which held only a ledger book, a neat stack of papers, and a light film of sawdust. “Would it be about the unfortunate death of Mr. Harrington?”

“It would. Last night thee confirmed thy attendance at the Spring Opening gathering on Second Day evening. The night Justice was murdered.”

“Isn’t the name an irony, though, now we know what happened to him?”

I nodded in acknowledgment.

“But you are here inquiring so as to rightly bring him justice,” Jonathan went on. “Yes, I was there, along with what seemed like half the town.”

“I would like to understand what thee saw as the evening progressed. In particular, did thee notice when Justice left? Who else might have left the hall at the same time?”

He propped one elbow in his hand and set his chin on the other fist, as if thinking. “Let me see, now. Mrs. Harrington seemed intent on conversing with all the carriage factory owners. She carried on a lengthy conversation with Mr. Parry. I believe she sees herself as the duly appointed representative of her father’s company.”

“More than her husband, who worked for them?”

“Yes.”

“Did thee happen to overhear any of Luthera’s and William’s words?” I asked.

He pulled a wry grin. “Now I feel like an old fishwife telling tales.”

“Sometimes an investigation has exactly that feel. But the police don’t always know what’s important until they put it all together.”

“Very well. I was passing by the two—as well as Parry’s partner—on my way to the buffet table when I thought I heard the word ‘merge.’ Perhaps you’ve learned Mr. Parry’s constant mismanagement has led to some troubles with the financial health of his outfit.”

“I have.”

“To merge his company with the very successful Montgomery Carriage Company of Ottawa might be a wise step for Parry and an astute one for the northerners.”

Did Zeb know of such a plan? “I suppose so, although it might mean William would no longer be the head of the company he founded,” I said. “I wonder if Justice agreed about a merging.”

“That I couldn’t tell you. I did see Mr. Harrington putting his head together with Mr. Ned Bailey for some time early in the soiree, plus another man, a dark-haired foreigner.”

I raised my eyebrows. “But thee didn’t hear what they talked about?” Had it