A Circle of Dead Girls

by Eleanor Kuhns

  ‘But it will only be for a day or two,’ she argued.

  ‘One of us should stay here,’ he replied. ‘And I can travel faster alone.’

  Lydia stared at him for several seconds. Seeing that he would not yield she sighed but did not protest again.

  Rees left as soon as he could. He packed a change of clothes and Lydia handed up a basket of small beer, her prize-winning cheese and Annie’s fresh bread. Excitement warred with reluctance; he hated to see the disappointment on Lydia’s face. But the anticipation and the joy he felt at being on the road won. By the time he left the outskirts of Durham behind, he was smiling. Even a sudden rain shower could not dampen his pleasure. He felt as though a great weight had slid from his shoulders. This short jaunt felt like a holiday from all his cares.

  He had not expected to reach another town until nightfall but with the early start he was almost in Grand Forks by late afternoon. Just outside of town he spotted some activity in a field by the road. A number of men were congregated in a farmer’s meadow so like the Reynard’s buckwheat field Rees experienced a second of dislocation. The sense he’d seen this before tingled through him, igniting his curiosity. With sad certainty he knew what those men had found, parked his wagon and jumped the fence into the field. Of the four men in the field, two were standing with their backs to him. The other two were kneeling by the body: doctor and coroner, Rees guessed.

  The fellows who were upright turned in unison to stare at the interloper and, after a few seconds, walked forward to meet him as he crossed the pasture. ‘I’m a deputy constable from Durham,’ Rees said, shading the truth slightly. ‘We had a murder a few days ago and thought it might be connected with the traveling circus. I’m following them now. I saw you and wondered?’

  Both men listened carefully and one said, ‘So you think one of the circus folk is going around killing people?’ He was a short, burly man with a belly that hung over the waistband of his breeches. His companion, a tall, skinny man with thinning, mouse-brown hair eyed Rees doubtfully but said nothing.

  ‘Yes, I do,’ Rees said, extending a hand. ‘Will Rees.’

  ‘Constable MacGregor,’ said the heavier of the two men. Rees peered down at the body on the ground, trying to see around the broad backs of the two people who were kneeling. The only things visible were a straw bonnet, blown some distance away by the breeze, fair hair spattered by red blood, and muddy boots at the other end.

  ‘This the victim?’ Rees asked.

  ‘Yes.’ The short man turned pale-blue eyes on Rees.

  ‘Was the circus here?’ Rees asked.

  The constable nodded. His deputy said, ‘Circus just left this morning.’

  ‘I didn’t allow them to stay,’ Constable MacGregor said. ‘Don’t want their kind here. Thieves and whoremongers, the lot of them. What happened in Durham?’

  ‘The body of a young girl was discovered while the circus was in town,’ Rees said, involuntarily falling into the constable’s laconic style of speech. ‘A young girl, violated, strangled to death and dumped in a field. We think there might be more victims. I’m following the circus to get some answers.’

  MacGregor did not remove his light eyes from Rees until he’d finished speaking. ‘This murder isn’t connected.’

  ‘But—’ Rees began, staring at the woman’s bonnet blowing through the field.

  ‘This is a young boy,’ MacGregor said. ‘Beaten to death.’

  ‘Boy?’ Rees took a step back.

  ‘Couple of years ago we had a murder of a young girl, just as you describe,’ said the tall man. Despite his colorless appearance his voice was deep and resonant. ‘Remember, Mac?’

  MacGregor nodded. ‘I do. But there was no circus then. No strangers in town at all that I remember.’ He looked at Rees but he was too surprised to speak.

  ‘I dread telling his mother,’ the constable said. ‘Young Jesse here was the baby of the family, the last one home.’

  ‘If you’re tracking the circus,’ the deputy said to Rees, ‘they were heading west.’

  ‘Either of you gentlemen know the best way to go?’

  ‘South and west,’ said the deputy. ‘Probably towards Elliott.’

  ‘Come back to my office,’ the constable invited Rees. ‘I’ll show you a shortcut on the map.’ He turned to the man still kneeling on the ground. ‘You all right, Doc?’

  ‘Yes. Send back a wagon. We’ll have to bury the boy in a closed casket. His own mother wouldn’t recognize him now. It’s a shame – he was her youngest. Now who will care for her in her old age?’

  Rees turned and strode through the field to his wagon and climbed into the seat. He couldn’t shake the certainty there was something odd about the boy’s death. But, after pondering it for a few minutes, he put it out of his mind. Although the puzzle tantalized, this death had nothing to do with Leah’s.

  Once within the village limits, he began looking for an inn or tavern where he could park his wagon. And ask some questions; innkeepers usually knew most of what was happening in their communities.

  The first establishment he found was nearer to the center of the village. Rees worried that since it was Saturday the inn and stable might be full, but the ostler said no. ‘Most of them farmers keep their nags and wagons at the market with ’em. I got room.’ So Rees unhitched Hannibal and pushed the wagon to one side. He watched the ostler lead the gelding into the stall. Although the man spoke poorly through his missing teeth and was layered in grime, he crooned as he urged Hannibal into the stall. This inn would do.

  Rees went through the back door to the ordinary beyond for some supper. A few slices of bread and cheese were not sufficient for a man of Rees’s size and his stomach was growling. The savory aromas permeating the stable yard had tantalized him as he spoke to the ostler and the sweet smell of roasting meat was even stronger inside. Rees found a seat by the door and gestured at a busy serving girl. Some kind of potpie seemed the popular meal of the day so when the girl finally stopped by his table he was able to point to it. It turned out to be beef potpie, the beef probably left over from yesterday’s joint, but the pie was hot and delicious. Rees cleaned his plate and followed it up with coffee and a slab of cake.

  By the time he stepped out on to the main street, it was growing dark. The streets were congested with wagons, mostly sunburned farmers and their wives on their way home. Rees turned to accost the next gentleman who passed by, an elegantly clad man in a gray frock coat, to ask for directions to the constable. And found himself staring into the face of Piggy Hanson! Both men gaped at one another in astonishment.

  ‘Piggy Hanson!’ Rees said.

  ‘Rees!’ the magistrate said at the same moment. ‘I’ve asked you one hundred times not to call me Piggy.’ He nervously touched the frothy cravat at his throat. Rees recalled the clown’s pig and involuntarily smiled. Piggy looked startled. ‘What are you doing here?’

  Rees hesitated but couldn’t think of any reason not to reply honestly. ‘Looking for Asher’s circus.’

  ‘Did they leave Durham?’ Hanson asked.

  ‘They left yesterday.’

  Hanson eyed Rees. ‘So, you were in Durham also?’

  Cursing himself for his thoughtless honesty, Rees chose not to reply. The magistrate nodded as though he understood everything now.

  ‘I should have guessed your wife would run to that religious village.’ He smiled and Rees read knowledge and cruelty in Piggy’s expression. ‘What’s its name?’

  Rees pretended he didn’t hear. As magistrate, Hanson had signed the warrant for Lydia’s arrest on the charge of witchcraft. Rees wondered if someone from his hometown – like the superstitious Farley – would pursue Lydia and try to arrest her now that Piggy knew where they lived.

  But Hanson did not continue that topic. Instead he said, ‘Well, the circus has been here and gone. Why are you following them?’ He began to slap his silver-headed cane against his boot and turned his gaze away from Rees as though not much interested in t
he answer.

  ‘A young girl was found murdered and it is possible one of the performers is guilty.’ Rees chose his words very carefully; he didn’t want to accuse Boudreaux or anyone else of such a crime, not without being certain anyway. Besides, look where his honesty had gotten him – now Piggy knew where they’d taken refuge.

  ‘Ah. The girl’s body was found after the circus left town then?’

  ‘No.’ Rees shifted his weight uncomfortably. ‘One of the performers was suspected.’

  ‘And you let him go?’ The magistrate laughed. ‘Wasn’t enough evidence to satisfy you?’

  Rees wanted to strike the other man. This was more like the Hanson he knew, a mocking bully. ‘It wasn’t like that,’ he said through gritted teeth and keeping a tight rein on his temper.

  Hanson shook his head. ‘What happened? Did the constable free them? Or did they sneak out in the middle of the night?’ he asked. Since this was exactly what had happened, Rees gaped in surprise. ‘Circus people can’t be trusted,’ Hanson said. For a moment he stared into space as the cane slapped at his leather boot. ‘We’ve never gotten along, you and I,’ he said at last. ‘But we are on the same side. We both fight for justice in our own ways.’ He paused. Rees inclined his head very cautiously, not sure where this speech was going. ‘Both of us want to see the murderer of that young girl caught. So, I’m going to pass along a tidbit of information I heard from a casual acquaintance – that the circus is going to stop over in Elliott. I can’t promise it will still be there, but if it isn’t there perhaps someone will offer a new direction.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Rees said, almost too astonished to speak. In fact, he could not have been more surprised if his horse had spoken.

  ‘See that you make the most of it,’ Hanson said sternly. He turned and held one hand in the air. As his carriage came up the street behind them, he added, ‘Farley is no longer the constable in Dugard. I think you should know that.’

  Rees stared at Hanson in bewilderment as the coachman pulled the elegant equipage to a stop and jumped down to open the door. Rees had a good view of the inside with its upholstered seats. Although the curtains were tied back now, the ribbons could be loosened and the cloth panels closed over the windows.

  Unsettled by the interchange, Rees watched the carriage pull away. Now why had Piggy Hanson told him all of that? To help? Or to throw suspicion elsewhere? After all the magistrate followed a regular circuit and he had been in Durham when Leah was murdered. With the curtains closed the interior of his carriage would be private. And that fine upholstery could have caused those burn-like marks on the backs of Leah’s legs.

  Had his stops in other towns corresponded to more murders?

  Despite his dislike of the magistrate Rees didn’t want to believe it. They’d been boys together. But now the suspicion would prey on him until he knew for sure.

  NINETEEN

  Now the sky was growing dark and the shops were beginning to close. Most of the people on the street were young men. They all seemed to be heading to the tavern at which Rees had just eaten his dinner. Soon the streets would be filled with drunken men and fights; he wanted to be gone by then. He couldn’t afford to stay at the inn and it was spring anyway; he had camped by the road in much worse weather than this. Turning so sharply he elicited a curse and a shove from the man trying to enter the inn, Rees accosted the first gentleman he saw. A portly gentleman with aspirations to town bronze, the fellow wore a fustic yellow coat and the newly fashionable white trousers tucked into glossy Hessian boots. He bobbed his head in reply to Rees’s question, the feather on his high-hat fluttering. He stood out among the farmers and simple shopkeepers like a peacock in a flock of sparrows but he knew the direction and pointed to a haberdashery shop across the street.

  ‘Besides serving as our constable,’ the gentleman said, ‘Mr MacGregor runs our dry goods store.’

  Rees nodded his thanks and walked across the street.

  An uneasy alliance between a clothiers and a jail, the front of the building boasted shelves of folded cloth and a long table for cutting the fabric. But its back room served as the lockup with a cell tucked into a corner. Rees paused in front of the three steps that led up to the back room and peered through the door. A table piled high with papers was clearly visible right across from the stairs. But the chair beside it was vacant as well.

  ‘Hello?’ Rees said.

  ‘Oh, it’s you,’ MacGregor said, appearing at the top of the steps. ‘Come up.’

  Rees ascended the few steps to the office at the back. He had interrupted their suppers; the deputy was still eating. He nodded at Rees as MacGregor went to the back of the office. He rummaged through a bucket of rolled maps until he found the one he wanted. It had yellowed a little with age and when the constable carried it to the cutting table and stretched it out to its full width Rees saw that it had been edited by hand. Newer darker ink delineated property lines as well as streams and bridges.

  MacGregor pointed to a road dropping southwest from this town of Grand Forks. ‘Follow this road by the mill stream,’ the constable said.

  Rees peered down at the map, following MacGregor’s pointing finger. ‘How far?’

  ‘Ten miles maybe before you turn right on a road about here.’ His stubby freckled finger pointed at what looked like an inkblot. ‘It’ll cut off a good bit of time.’

  ‘Most likely you’ll reach Elliott before the circus,’ MacGregor said as he rolled up the map.

  And what if everyone was wrong and Asher had disappeared in a different direction? Then what? His doubt must have shown on his face because MacGregor grinned. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said reassuringly. ‘The circus will definitely stop there. Biggest town around.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Rees said. And then, feeling he ought to show more interest in their latest tragedy, he added, ‘What will happen to the victim’s mother now?’

  ‘She’ll manage,’ MacGregor said in surprise. ‘Besides her older boys she has several daughters.’

  That explained the girl’s bonnet, Rees thought.

  ‘Jesse was almost a daughter,’ the deputy said, turning his chuckle into a cough when MacGregor scowled at him.

  ‘Jesse’s older brother will take in the widow,’ the constable said, putting an end to the subject.

  Rees thanked them once again and took his leave.

  He drove for as long as there was still light in the sky, pulling over when he could no longer see. With sunset the air quickly cooled, and Rees spent some time building a small fire. Once it was burning he sat down. For the first time since his journey began, he thought of Lydia and his children. Why hadn’t he said yes when she’d asked to come? This would be a short trip and, in David’s clothes, she appeared to be a boy. Annie and Jerusha could care for the younger children. Rees sighed. If he were honest with himself, he would admit he was enjoying his solitude. He felt like a young man again, not an old husband with a bunch of children and a farm to care for.

  And Bambola waited at the end of this journey.

  Despite the cold he slept well. Arising before dawn, he started his journey once again. He expected to be traveling until well after noon but it was barely midmorning when he went round a bend and saw what looked like circus wagons across the rocky field. He lost sight of them again as the road went through thick forest. But as he followed the bends of the muddy and hilly highway, he glimpsed the cluster of wagons again and again through the trees. At last, following the road around a low hill, he came upon the wagons pulled up in a farmer’s field. Last year’s stalks still covered the ground in spiky rows. Good thing, Rees thought. He did not think the farmer would appreciate all these wagons rolling over a freshly planted field.

  He followed the wheeled tracks cut into the ground, his wagon jolting over the ruts. Why had they pulled up here? There were no villages nearby and, indeed, the circus stadium had not been constructed. Everyone, it appeared, was gathered around a wagon at one end. Otto had his shoulder to the wheel. ‘Pu
sh,’ someone on the other side of the wagon shouted. The strong man pushed, the wagon rose a few inches, and one of the other men pushed a mat of straw under the wheel. Rees, who had experienced similar problems with his vehicle, recognized the damage immediately: a broken axle.

  His gaze followed the line of wagons to the very end. Separated from the other people was a man in a flat-brimmed straw hat, white shirt, and navy pants. That was Shaker garb. And when he turned to speak to someone out of sight behind the wagon Rees clearly saw his face. It was Brother Aaron.

  TWENTY

  Rees drove a few feet closer and then climbed down from the wagon. Since all of Brother Aaron’s attention was focused on the unseen speaker – Shem probably – he did not see Rees approaching until he was almost on him. He expected Aaron to turn and flee but he didn’t. Instead he shouted, ‘Run.’

  Rees veered to his left intending to catch the boy but Shem didn’t run. He stayed where he was, only protesting when Rees grabbed his arm. ‘Ow,’ he said.

  Rees turned to Aaron and said angrily, ‘What’s the matter with you? You knew I wanted to ask Shem questions and you purposely withheld his note.’

  ‘He knows nothing,’ Aaron said. ‘He barely knew the girl. And he certainly did not kill her.’

  ‘He isn’t accused of murder,’ Rees said. ‘Do you believe he killed the girl? Or’ – and now he released Shem’s arm and advanced upon Aaron – ‘you killed Leah. And you hope someone else – Boudreaux or Shem here – takes the blame.’

  ‘No! Leah’s murder—’ Aaron began.

  ‘Is that true?’ Shem interrupted, staring at Aaron with eyes round from shock.

  ‘Of course not,’ Aaron said, his voice rising. ‘I just don’t want you dragged into this mess.’ He looked at Rees. ‘She followed Shem. And then she chose to leave Durham by herself. For all we know, that mountebank intercepted her before he met Shem in town.’

  ‘She didn’t follow me,’ Shem said. ‘We went together. We both wanted to see the circus.’