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

here,” David said. “Reverend, what can you tell me about this venerable building?”

William started on the long walkway to the street, which ran down the middle of a grassy lawn.

“William,” I called.

He whirled, wearing a scowl.

I grew near but stopped about six feet away. If he had tuberculosis, getting any closer could imperil my health and my baby’s.

“I was surprised to see thee at the service,” I began. “Did thee know Orpha?”

“Yes.” His scowl slipped away. “In my opinion, she was one of the truly good people in this world.”

“Did she deliver Thomas?”

“She did, and she helped my late first wife through a difficult labor. I was extraordinarily grateful for Mrs. Perkins.”

I had delivered his second and third children—from different mothers—in the space of a month two years ago. Those mothers had not had such happy outcomes, and I doubted he was grateful to me.

“I heard something of interest this morning,” I began. “Is it true thee plans to merge thy business concern with the Montgomery company of Ottawa, Canada?”

Alarm flew into his eyes for a brief moment. He blinked and shifted his gaze away from my face. “Where could you have heard such a ridiculous thing?”

I waited without answering.

“That’s complete nonsense,” he blustered, folding his arms on his chest. “I have no plans in the least to undertake such a business maneuver. Whoever told you is full of hogwash. Good day, Mrs. Dodge.” He touched his bowler and strode down the path.

Well. Doth someone protest too much?

“Rose,” a woman’s voice called from in front of the church. Frannie waved at me from where she stood with Catherine, Jeanette, Annie, and Mary.

I joined them. “Mary, does thee know my friends, and my partner, Annie?”

She smiled. “They’ve introduced themselves.”

“We’ve lost a jewel,” Catherine said. “Mrs. Perkins delivered my Patrick yon these thirty years.”

“And my daughter, too,” Frannie offered.

“My children, as well,” Mary said. She gazed at the street, where William had already turned onto the sidewalk. “And a child of his, I suppose.”

“Yes, his first,” I said. “William doesn’t seem at all well.”

“He’s not.” Mary pressed her lips together. “And he should be resting at home, not gallivanting around to funerals.”

“Rose, have you untangled the matter of the murder yet?” Annie asked me.

“Not exactly.” I surveyed the group’s eager expressions. All but Mary knew me well, and they were acquainted with my history assisting on official investigations. “I did report to the police what thy maid saw, Frannie, and the new acting chief—that is, Kevin—is looking into it. But I’m afraid the facts of the case are still quite murky. Does any of thee know Ned Bailey personally?”

“Not I,” Mary said.

Catherine and Frannie shook their heads.

“He’s my husband’s cousin’s wife’s nephew,” Jeanette offered.

“That’s a convoluted connection,” I said.

She laughed and slapped her thigh. “Isn’t it? Still, Mr. Papka’s family loves big gatherings. I’ve sat with Ned a few times at summer picnics and whatnot.”

“He mentioned to me he was excited about a plan for a horseless motorcar,” I said in a quiet voice. “And he was seen in intense conversation with Justice Harrington the night of the murder. Does thee think, Jeanette, thee could ask thy husband to inquire of his cousin’s wife about any business dealings between the two?”

Jeanette shook her head. “I would, but the cousin and his wife were called away to Vermont to her mother’s deathbed.”

Drat the luck. “And thee doesn’t know of any dealings?” I asked her.

“No, but I’ll see what I can learn.”

“Thank thee.”

“What about the wife?” Catherine asked. “I told you how she was being scornful and insulting to her husband before he was killed.”

“You did,” I said. “I believe Kevin regards her with interest in terms of being a possible culprit.”

“But not your nephew-in-law, I hope,” Jeanette said.

“Good heavens, no,” I said. “Zeb is innocent of any wrongdoing, and I think I have convinced Kevin of such.”

Mary followed our volleying of questions and answers with an amused expression.

“His mother’s quite the tippler, isn’t she?” Catherine murmured.

“I’ve heard the same.” Frannie snorted. “We all have our weaknesses, though, don’t we? I, for one, can’t resist a good pipe of tobacco.”

I stared at her. Frannie smoked a pipe? I had no idea.

“Give me chocolate any day,” Jeanette added. “In any form.”

Catherine nodded. “For me it’s ale. There’s nothing like a cold tankard to relax a soul.”

I supposed my weakness was wanting to tease out the facts of a mystery, which was not my job in the least.

Mary gave a little enigmatic smile. “I have no minor vices.”

I blinked, trying to sort out what she meant. Did she have a major vice?

David waved at me from the church. I held up a finger, signaling I’d be along in a minute. “Who else is going to Alma’s?”

Chapter Thirty-four

Alma’s house was packed with mourners, and the dining table groaned with the food the ladies had prepared. I tasted a savory lamb tart, a chicken dumpling, and a miniature deep-fried fishcake. Perhaps this could take the place of our supper at home. Sweet treats also abounded, as did tea, sherry, and some other spirit. David helped himself to a plate, as well as a small glass of what looked like whiskey.

Alma’s mother particularly thanked me for helping care for Orpha and for my message during the funeral. “You took my place at her deathbed, and I will be ever indebted.” She glanced at her cantankerous husband and lowered her voice. “I simply couldn’t get away.”

Alma’s father, on the other hand, was perfunctory in his greeting to the point of curtness. Alma’s little girls, now five and seven, were helpful for a bit, offering to take visitors’ coats and directing them to the food, but they eventually disappeared to play.

I still found it painful to be in the house where my mentor had lived the entire time I’d known her. I could see David was eager to leave. He’d had a long conversation with Mary about things medical, then had ended up in polite congress with Alma’s husband. When I