“I’m not sure,” Eunice laughed. “You’ll have to talk to my husband. He’s the best person to speak to about, well, about everything, it seems. He arranged all this, you know, down to the last detail. He’s been so busy. I know he hasn’t had a chance to enjoy himself.”
Hetty doubted Clarence could do a simple thing such as that, but kept that observation to herself.
“I’ll take you to him,” Eunice went on. “I wanted to take part as well, but if you do it, I don’t think he’ll disapprove. Let me put this down and we’ll head off.”
As Eunice went to get rid of the basket, Hetty turned to her husband.
“Did you break the game?”
“It still works,” Benjy said rather innocently. “The piece he used to keep the test at a certain level is most certainly broken, though.”
Which explained the crowd that swarmed the booth now. “You just helped him make money.”
“Money he can’t keep,” Benjy reminded her. “Is there a fee to join the race? I don’t think we have much left.”
“Eunice didn’t mention it.”
“Rather odd, isn’t that? Eunice said Clarence wouldn’t let her take part in the race. He’s always glad to show off how indulgent he is.”
Hetty knew this of course—it was evident from Eunice’s fine clothing and lovely home. But it was also evident from Clarence’s monetary support of all the committees and good causes Eunice championed throughout town.
“Maybe he thought it was dangerous.” Hetty shrugged. “It’s hardly odd. Some treat their spouses like delicately spun glass.”
“And not everyone likes such behavior.”
This was all the observation he was able to give. Eunice returned and cheerfully led the way.
When they reached the end of the boardwalk and found Clarence, he looked no more bothered than when he was dealing with a catering job for regular customers. He stood aside tallying notes in a small book, and when there was something disagreeable, he yanked the paper right out. Instead of crumpling it, he drew a finger along the page and a sigil flared up on it before flames sprouted from the mark. He held on to it until the orange tongues of the flames tickled his fingertips.
“Clarence,” Eunice called, “is the bicycle race still open? Henrietta wants to join and will only do it if I take part as well.”
He looked up and blinked as his eyes fell on them. “I didn’t know you two would be here.”
“Neither did we,” Hetty remarked. “We got tickets just this morning.”
“After I joined the club,” Benjy added unnecessarily.
“Then,” Clarence replied, “you should know your dues will need to be paid fairly soon.”
“Dues?”
Clarence’s eyes didn’t leave Benjy’s face. “Were you not informed that every member has to pay twenty dollars for the year? Of course,” he added, as Hetty and Benjy both started at the princely sum, “if your wife wins the race, that won’t be the case.” He gave them a lopsided grin. “It’s not just you. We had such problems recently with a few of our members. They had fallen on the wayside of paying the proper fees, sad as I am to speak ill of the dead.”
“You mean Charlie?” Benjy asked. “That’s quite odd, since he was the one that first told me about this club.”
“Yes, yes,” Clarence said before sparing a glance at Eunice. She hadn’t said a word, but Clarence’s brow had furrowed with the concerns of a man who didn’t want his wife to hear terrible things.
Clarence knew something, if his vague words were any indication. Charlie had gambling debts—this they knew—but they were hearing of debts to the club for the first time. Hetty wanted to learn more, but they wouldn’t get a candid answer with Eunice present. Clarence was not the sort of husband who talked easily and openly in front of his wife.
Hetty met Benjy’s eyes and nodded ever so slightly. They needed to split up, although she would let him choose which of the Lorings he would lure away.
“I heard piano music on our way in.” Benjy turned to Eunice, favoring her with a smile. “Think I can trouble someone to play a few reels?”
“I’m not sure they would let you,” Eunice chuckled.
“I think they might,” he said easily, “especially if you help me convince them.”
With another laugh, Benjy all but swept Eunice away, leaving the woman little chance to ask why Hetty wasn’t coming along.
Not that the thought appeared to cross Eunice’s mind for a moment. Eunice was so used to carrying people away in her enthusiasm that she probably didn’t know how to cope when the opposite occurred.
While Hetty was amused at the sight of their respective spouses disappearing into the crowd, Clarence went stiffer than a dead piece of wood with trouble brewing in his eyes.
Before he could go after them and ruin everything, Hetty stepped into his path.
“I heard from my husband,” Hetty said, forcing Clarence to pay her attention, “that Charlie was quite insistent that he join the club.”
Clarence’s eyes rolled back to her. “He was, but not without purpose. Isaac Baxter likes playing the benevolent god. He promised to forget about some of Charlie’s gambling fees if he increased membership numbers. Benjy was just another body to add.”
Hetty didn’t have to pretend surprise. This was far more than what she expected to learn.
“Would Isaac Baxter send someone around to collect money?” Hetty asked. “Marianne mentioned strange men showing up on her doorstep.”
“Of course not.” Clarence frowned. “It would be improper so soon. Though I must admit that if he had, I might not have been informed. I’ve been busy with the final arrangements for all this. I had to make do with what I can manage. If I hadn’t, I’m afraid there would have been a light show.”
“Fireworks?”
“No, magic. Isaac Baxter wanted to light up the night, but I had to put my foot down. It was already difficult enough reserving the area. Anything more would mean we would lose it. And with it, the chance to escape the city for a bit of fun. I think we need that, after all that has happened—with last month’s elections, with Charlie, and more.” Clarence absently rubbed his thumb around his neck, where his scars, old and faded as they were, remained.
“Some things are as hard to escape,” Hetty said, “as they are to forget.”
“Much like people. Sometimes you think them lost and then they show up when least expected. I can’t stop thinking about Charlie’s mother. If only the first telegrams hadn’t gone to the wrong place, they would have met months earlier.”
“Wrong place?” Hetty asked.
“The wrong names were used. Charlie used the name of his old master and didn’t realize there were two Wilsons in the same area. The Freedmen’s Bureau isn’t much help, but you know that better than I do after all your visits.”
“I cannot say they are well run,” Hetty said softly. “I rely on my own means these days.”
“Then maybe if you consider . . .” Clarence trailed off.
“Consider what?”
“Consider that maybe your sister is already in Philadelphia. She might not know you have taken on a different name.”
“I only added a last name.”
“She might not be aware of that.”
Hetty had used a combination of names to search for her sister, but never considered the last name she adopted to be confusing. She kept the name her mother had given her, for she had gotten great use of it, and Esther would know it. Names. Could that have been the problem?
“How about you?” Hetty said, remembering the small kindness he had shown her once, waiting in that long line. “Were you able to find something about— I’m sorry, I forgot the name.”
“Sofia.” The single word melted his usually stern features, leaving only the pain of an old wound.
“Your sister?” Hetty asked, even as she knew the question was wrong. She remembered, at the funeral, how quiet he became when George was making a fool of himself askin
g about old husbands and wives left behind in slavery.
“My wife.” He grunted. “We were fond of each other and got permission to wed. But then her master got wind that I had some skill with magic. I was sold off to a man who gave me my freedom some years later, but before then, I was happy. She had the sweetest voice.” Quick as the breach came, he pulled himself back together and became stone once more. “Don’t worry. There will be no grand scene to embarrass Eunice. Sofia is dead.”
“Dead? You know for certain?”
“I received a response some time ago. Back in ’sixty-three, Sofia and a few others decided to make a break for freedom, going forth on their own without any conductors to guide them. They were caught and chose to fight. It did not end well.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that,” Hetty said, hearing his sorrows even as he tried to suppress them.
“You should be sorry for those that let it happen,” Clarence growled. “Those that do evil things always get their just rewards.”
“The past is past,” Hetty said.
“If that’s true, then why are you still searching?”
“I don’t give up easily.”
Clarence grunted. “Then I wish you luck for both your search and the race. I’ll let the person in charge know you’re entering before it’s too late. Until then, enjoy the day.”
Hetty pushed her way through the crowd, jostling others who flooded the area in every direction. Bits of conversation flitted past her, filled with merriment and an overall bliss that made her feel as if she were an intruder.
People around her spoke about competitions, games, and how many pennies they had to spend on food, and all she could think about was how many people had suffered as Sofia had. Esther could have died in the intervening years and the news would be slow to travel. It was certainly possible. Just as it was possible, as Clarence suggested, that Esther could be in the city already, and it was only their names and the passing of time that left her and Hetty from being unable to find each other.
A man in a poorly cut suit abruptly walked into her path, and she turned to let him pass. As she did, she caught sight of the booths scattered along the way ahead, and on the other side of the flat green where people milled about in clusters, Hetty spied a face she had not expected to see.
Alain Browne was not as nervous and trembling as he’d been the night he had banged on Hetty’s door saying he’d found a dead body. He carefully chewed on a steaming hand pie, but he held himself too much like a lightning-struck cat to make it seem like he was actually enjoying it.
What was he doing here?
This was a members-only event. While Hetty tried not to judge people and their circumstances, she highly doubted Alain would have the means to afford a membership to this exclusive club. However, neither did they. She had stolen tickets after all, and relied on charm to help smooth their entry. Perhaps Alain had managed the same, or maybe he was an invited guest of another member.
What was it that Geraldine had said? That Alain had lied, but that he had not meant to.
That could mean so many things. It could merely be the prattle about forcing Charlie to fix the pump. Or it could change everything they knew about their investigation.
Alain shoved the last corner of the fried dough into his mouth and Hetty made her decision. She moved through the crowd, skipping past the booths to catch up with him.
But she wasn’t the only one making moves across the field.
“Henrietta, I didn’t realize you’d be here. Charlie got Ben to join in the end, did he?”
Hetty spun around to face George.
If Eunice had been resplendent, Clarence unbothered by the festive air, George was flushed and sweating like he had just run through the woods with dogs at his heels.
“In a way, I guess he did.”
“Surprised by that,” George said, puffing up, “given the nasty argument they had before Charlie died.”
This wasn’t a complete surprise to Hetty.
Her last conversation with Charlie had been because he wanted to use her as a buffer to speak to Benjy. She suspected an argument between the pair, but George’s words danced on something that was a bit more than a mere disagreement. She just didn’t know what.
At the moment it didn’t matter.
George delivered these words as if he meant them to be a surprise, so Hetty gasped, a hand going to her throat as she made her eyes grow wide. “I didn’t hear about this!”
For a moment, she thought she overdid it. But then, George’s prejudices were easy to take advantage of.
“I suppose he wouldn’t tell you,” George blustered on. “It was alarming all around. Your husband has quite a temper when pushed past his limits. I don’t like to speak ill of the dead, but Charlie never did know when to stop.” George’s face twisted. “Especially when he knew better.”
Charlie might have known that there was only so far he could push Benjy, but did he know the same of George?
Anger pinched George’s face, with a bleakness that reminded Hetty that, of all her friends, he was the only one who saw the war through the eyes of a soldier. Unlike some who rode it out digging trenches for latrines, George had shot several men dead, and proudly, too. It was easy to forget that underneath his schoolteacher’s mannerisms, that part was still there, buried deep inside him.
“What did Charlie do?”
“Nothing for you to concern yourself with,” George replied. “The man’s dead, after all. His big dreams will never come to light now.”
“A good thing,” Hetty said, drawing out her words with care. “His dreams and schemes always led to trouble.”
“You’ll find no argument from me.”
“I saw Eunice earlier,” Hetty said, figuring if George wasn’t going to leave her alone, she should at least get some use out of him. “I’ll be in the bicycle race later on. Is Darlene here? Is she taking part?”
“I don’t think so.” George’s face filled with worry. “The baby has been rather fussy all day. We probably shouldn’t have brought her with us, but Darlene was working a booth and the baby would be in the shade all day. Do you think Lorene might be sick?”
This was a topic of some concern to him, and he stayed on it despite Hetty’s efforts to shift things back.
She left George then, her grumbling stomach leading her to a stall with hand pies. Coins exchanged hands. As she took a bite, something bumped her legs. Instead of the table or small child she’d assumed, Hetty looked down and saw a hound made of stars wagging its tail and barking soundlessly at her.
“He sent you?” Hetty asked, and the dog just turned and dashed off toward Benjy. Hetty followed.
She found Benjy standing near the small raised platform at the start of the boardwalk. He turned his head toward her as she approached, and the dog vanished by the time she stepped up next to him.
“No one would let you touch a piano?” Hetty held out the remaining hand pies to him.
He took them eagerly, and barely finished swallowing the first before reaching for the second.
“Only at the dance tent, but if I touched the keys I’d be charmed to that seat until the dancing stops at dawn.”
“The excursion runs that late?”
“Would you like to find out? They’re having a prize dance.”
“A cakewalk would be fun. Think we could win without Penelope and Thomas?”
His answering smile left little doubt of the affirmative.
The cakewalk Hetty remembered as a child had high kicks, jumps, and perfect spins, with couples doing their best to outshine the others. While the gatherings were always fun, the best ones were when Master and Mistress came to watch. Not only was there a chance of a prize, but some people in the quarters got a little bold in their steps. The cakewalk was always about making fun of the bobbing waltzes that went on in the Big House. Over time it became more about what they could get away with without catching notice.
These days it was popular because of the pri
zes won at the end, which were more often money than cake. With that change, the dance became a fierce competition, and in order to win you had to outshine the other couples with a display of graceful turns and elegant kicks in rhythm to the music.
When Hetty took on a round of the cakewalk with Benjy, illusions danced alongside them, sometimes small things as birds fluttering about, and others elaborate visions drawn from her stories. This was how he persuaded her to dance with him in the first place, and it was how they won the first competition they entered in.
“I went around asking a few questions about the setup of the excursion,” Benjy said, with his gaze focused along the boardwalk. “The booths are run by Degray members, usually the more junior members to help pay off the fees. It wasn’t by choice, which might have explained some of the rigged games. I chatted with a few of them—not many knew Charlie that well. It doesn’t seem like he was an active member.”
“Then why did he join?”
“E.C. Degray skews to the well-established. It’s a social club mostly. If he didn’t join for prestige, he joined to make connections.”
“Or something else.”
“Or something else,” Benjy echoed, “but that’s hard to tell. I also asked the junior members if there was anyone who was meant to be at the excursion but they had not seen since yesterday.”
“Was there?”
Benjy shook his head. “No suspicious absences. I don’t think our unknown man was part of Degray.” Benjy brushed away the crumbs from the hand pies. “What did you learn from Clarence?”
“Not much, but he did say Isaac Baxter had him keep an eye on Charlie regarding his debts. If Charlie’s debts were large enough to be of concern, why wouldn’t there be others?”
“A worthy theory, but it’s missing one piece. Dead men can’t pay back their debts.”
“Unless they were after something bigger. I saw George, and he hinted that there were bigger dreams that Charlie had.” Hetty tapped her foot against the ground, considering her next words carefully. “He said a number of other things, too. Including that you had argued with Charlie.”
“I did.” Benjy eyed the next hand pie. “I told you about it.”
The Conductors Page 21
