A Circle of Dead Girls

by Eleanor Kuhns

  ‘No!’ David said instantly. Then he paused. When he spoke again his voice was softer. ‘Well, maybe a little. I don’t understand why you want to leave your home and family behind. I never have. I’ve begun to accept, though, that you’ll never stay home. But this’ – he gestured behind him at the wagons – ‘is something different. This isn’t traveling to make a living. This carnival is an illusion; everything in it is false. You seem swallowed up by the fakery. And that ropedancer well and truly has her hooks in you. What’s happened to you?’

  Rees, incapable of speech, stared at his son. After several seconds of silence David flapped his hand at his father and turned toward the cart.

  ‘Are you going to tell Lydia? What you saw, I mean?’ Rees called after him.

  David looked over his shoulder. ‘And say what? I don’t know anything. Besides, she doesn’t deserve that kind of hurt.’ He climbed into the cart and drove away.

  As David disappeared into the streets of Durham, Rees began to think of all his counter arguments. First, he would strongly refute any connection between himself and Bambola. Wasn’t it true that they were only cordial to one another? And he had to question these circus folk, didn’t he? But mostly he wanted to explain to his son how remaining at the farm and working every day on tedious farm chores made him feel as though a heavy weight rested on his shoulders. To be energized, to be the person he knew he was, he needed to escape the relentless drudgery of a farm on a regular basis. If Rees was honest with himself, he couldn’t understand people who didn’t feel that way.

  By the time he thought all of this, David was out of sight.

  Sighing, Rees climbed into his own wagon and started home.

  He said little to Lydia when he arrived home. He just couldn’t talk about the funeral and what came after quite yet. So, while David worked in the barn, Rees used the last rays of the setting sun to carry the brush from the newly cleared field to the pile. That was almost done. Then he milked Daisy, fetched some water, and finally climbed the stairs to the weaving room. No new commissions had come in so he found a bag of scrap wool and began the tedious process of winding the warp. The wool was white, although it was a variety of thicknesses, so if he obtained another job using either wool or linen, this warp might do.

  All the while the events of the morning and afternoon played in his head. It had been an emotional day. For everyone, he thought, recalling David’s shock and anger. Rees’s own feelings had been scraped raw and it took a long time for them to settle. Even after the light faded, he lingered in the silent room, thinking. Not of the argument with David; the feelings brought up by that were still too fresh and painful. Instead he considered the funeral and his subsequent visit to the circus. As he recalled the conversations he’d held with the circus people, he began to realize something was off. But what? Something Billy said? Rees wasn’t sure.

  ‘Are you coming for supper?’ Lydia called up the stairs. Rees realized the weaving room was almost completely dark. He’d been here for hours. Lydia had delayed dinner until she couldn’t wait any longer. He hesitated. Was he ready to meet his family? Yes, he was. Although he’d made no progress on identifying the murderer, he realized he was calmer.

  ‘Yes. I didn’t realize it was so late,’ he said. Her soft footsteps descended the stairs.

  When Rees arrived in the kitchen a few minutes later only David and Jerusha were there. Both were in front of the fire. David had his boots off and seemed to be dozing while Jerusha worked on homework. ‘Where are the other children?’ he asked.

  ‘In bed,’ Lydia said.

  When Rees looked at the clock he saw it was almost eight. ‘It’s later than I thought,’ he said apologetically. Lydia gestured at the table.

  He sat down and stared at his plate. Cold lamb, something he did not care for. But Lydia had collected garden peas and they were still bright green and sweet. He wasn’t very hungry anyway. He’d eaten heartily with the circus people.

  Lydia handed him the gravy and then the plate of fresh biscuits, especially delicious with freshly churned butter melting into the bread.

  It was a silent meal. Rees found himself missing the chatter of his children. And Lydia, although she seemed on the verge of making a comment or two, did not speak until Rees had cleaned his plate.

  ‘What happened?’ she asked at last. ‘You look …’ She paused a moment, searching for the proper word. ‘You look ragged. Was the funeral very difficult?’

  Rees nodded. ‘Boudreaux fell out of the cart on to the ground. And then he had to be laid out in the grave.’

  Lydia waited for him to continue speaking. When he did not, she said, ‘That can’t be all that happened.’

  When Rees did not immediately respond David said, ‘I think I’ll turn in.’ He almost ran out of the kitchen door. His boots thudded up the stairs. Lydia stared after the boy in surprise.

  ‘Did you and David quarrel?’ she asked, turning her attention back to her husband.

  ‘Bambola gave me one of her cards,’ Rees said, almost at random. He did not want to talk about David right now. Lydia tensed. Rees placed the brightly colored card on the table between them. Lydia stared at it.

  ‘A tarot card,’ she said. ‘Why did she give this to you? Was it to remember her by?’ The tone in her voice sent a wave of heat through Rees’s body.

  ‘Of course not,’ he lied, now wishing he had kept it secret. ‘She gave me this card because she thought it was about me. It’s Justice, you see. And she asked me to find Boudreaux’s murderer.’ Lydia stared at her husband for a moment. He met her gaze squarely, striving for an appearance of innocence. At last Lydia dropped her eyes.

  ‘Was she close to Boudreaux?’ she asked, her tone softening.

  ‘I think so.’ Rees let out his breath in relief. ‘But of course, they worked together for years.’ He paused. He had accepted the rope-dancer’s desire to find the murderer uncritically but now he wondered. She had seemed genuinely upset. And angry.

  ‘What about Mr Asher?’

  ‘He asked me as well. Ordered me almost. He told me that Boudreaux’s life was every bit as important as Leah’s. But he also expressed some concern that I would be making myself a target for the men who shot Boudreaux.’ Rees paused. ‘I’ve made a mess of this entire investigation. Honestly,’ he admitted in a low voice, ‘I’ve been considering abandoning it.’

  ‘My word,’ Lydia said, but she sounded relieved more than startled. ‘What does the constable say?’

  ‘I haven’t told him.’

  ‘And what do you want to do?’ Lydia asked, fixing him with an intent stare. Rees thought about it. He wasn’t sure. ‘You were desperate to find Leah’s murderer once,’ she added.

  ‘Yes,’ Rees agreed. But somewhere along the way his investigation had become muddled with the circus. And then there was Piggy Hanson. The magistrate’s arrival on the scene, and Rees’s loathing of the other man, had complicated his feelings even further.

  ‘I think you should talk to Magistrate Hanson,’ Lydia said, just as though she could read his thoughts. ‘He didn’t come here to threaten you. He just wanted to talk. Maybe he can help.’

  ‘I doubt that,’ Rees said. ‘Hanson is a tricky bastard.’

  ‘He may know something,’ Lydia persisted.

  Rees felt his temper begin to rise. ‘Don’t nag. Don’t you see he might be behind the murders,’ he said in a chilly voice.

  Lydia’s nostrils flared and when she spoke again her voice was cold. ‘Don’t you think that’s even more reason to question him?’

  ‘You don’t understand this at all,’ Rees said shortly. David, he recalled, had said something similar. ‘It’s really none of your business.’

  ‘None of my business? I suppose that … that circus woman does understand you?’ Lydia snapped.

  ‘I haven’t discussed this with her,’ Rees said in a stiff voice, realizing as soon as the words left his mouth that he’d implied regular conversation with Bambola.

 
‘You surprise me. But then maybe you’re too busy to talk.’

  ‘What? Has David—?’

  ‘David knows? He told me nothing. Surely you don’t think I am too stupid to realize she’s the reason you’ve run off every single day to the circus.’

  ‘She has nothing to do with it,’ he said angrily.

  ‘You know I’m right,’ Lydia said.

  Rees turned on his heel and walked out of the kitchen, slamming the door behind him. He paused on the front porch, taking in deep lungfuls of air. Except for the sounds of night – frogs singing loudly in the pond and the hooting of an owl – everything was silent. He felt his anger and his tension begin to seep away. As he revisited his quarrel with Lydia he was suddenly very glad none of the children had witnessed it. He had not set a good example and he was ashamed of that now.

  Rapid hoof beats drew Rees’s attention to the lane outside the gate. He took the lantern down from its hook and held it up. Rouge appeared in the circle of light. He’d been riding hard; his boots and stockings were splattered with mud and the filth coated his horse all the way to the belly. Rees felt his stomach plummet.

  ‘Bad news?’ he asked as Rouge pulled the bay to a stop.

  ‘Get your wagon,’ Rouge said. ‘You need to come with me.’

  ‘Why?’ Rees looked around at the shadowy farm yard. ‘Can’t it wait until tomorrow? It’s too dark to see.’

  ‘No.’ Rouge hesitated and even in the dim light Rees could see the constable chewing his lower lip. ‘Bring a lantern. I need you to identify two bodies.’

  ‘Two more bodies?’ Rees asked in dismay.

  ‘They were murdered,’ Rouge said.

  ‘Of course they were else you wouldn’t be here. Who are they? Not Asher or one of the circus people?’

  ‘No.’ Rouge sighed audibly. ‘I think they may be the men who shot Boudreaux. That’s why I need you to look at them; I never saw their faces.’

  FORTY

  About halfway to town Rees began to feel both guilty and ashamed. Angry, he had not returned inside to tell his wife he was leaving. Instead, he’d harnessed Hannibal to the wagon and followed the constable from the farm. She would have no idea where he was.

  Now that he’d begun to cool off, he realized he’d behaved in a spiteful and petty manner, punishing her for fearing her husband would go to another woman. His hand went involuntarily to the card in his vest pocket. Lydia was right to worry. He loved her, he really did; loved his entire family, but if he were honest he had to admit Bambola attracted him. She was a beautiful woman and she had a way of looking at him with teasing admiration that was as unlike Lydia’s cool, level gaze as chalk to cheese. While Bambola represented freedom, Lydia meant responsibility. Farm and family. Rees groaned.

  Rouge glanced over but said nothing. His mouth was set in a grim line.

  They drove past the fairgrounds. The circus wagons were still there, clustered around the central campfire. Rees could see the orange and yellow flames and smell cooking meat. Rouge continued on, to West Street, following it out of town. Farms were few on this side of Durham. Maine was rocky and hilly even near the coast but a traveler going west would soon hit mountains, dramatic steep slopes with deep ravines cutting between them.

  Rouge did not ride very far out of town, just far enough for the houses to disappear behind the hills. He pulled his horse to a stop outside a thick stand of trees. Rees pulled up beside him. Although the trees were not yet clothed in leaves, none of the pale light from the sky reached the ground. It was like walking into a cave. ‘Light the lanterns,’ Rouge said. Forgetting the constable couldn’t see him, Rees nodded and after securing Hannibal to a tree he took out his tinderbox. He had to walk to the middle of the road to find enough light. Once the spark caught in the bundle he lit the first candle and then the second and put them in the lanterns. Rouge took the first one and started into the woods. Rees fell into step behind.

  The ground rose steadily. For a short while they traveled over rough ground, Rees tripping over the tree roots that snarled his footing. Gradually the ground transitioned into rock and they climbed over one escarpment after another, until they reached a flat granite shelf screened by trees and underbrush. Rees held up his lantern and shone it around. Dead falls and downed branches were so plentiful the slope below was almost invisible.

  The bodies were stuffed half in, half outside a thicket. Some attempt had been made to cover them with a blanket of last year’s leaves and pine branches. One of the corpses was in a sitting position but had fallen forward so that his face hung over his knees. The other, larger figure was sprawled face down with one puffy hand protruding from the leafy carpet. Rees stared at them. Although he could not see their faces, he was already sure he recognized them by their size and clothing.

  ‘Who found them?’ he asked Rouge.

  ‘Over here,’ the constable said loudly and a man moved into the light. He was unfamiliar to Rees but Rouge seemed to know him. He carried a musket and Rees guessed he’d been out hunting for tonight’s supper.

  ‘How did you find them?’ Rees asked the man.

  ‘I hunt here all the time. Could tell something was off.’

  ‘At dusk?’ Rees asked in some surprise.

  The farmer hesitated. ‘It wasn’t just the seeing. It smelled different,’ he said finally.

  Rees stepped forward and pulled back the head of the sitting man so that the face was visible. The body had not been here very long – damage from the animals was minimal – and despite his pallor Rees recognized him. It was the smaller of the two men who had come to the circus. He held the lantern closer so that it shone fully on the face. A dark necklace of bruises circled the corpse’s neck. Although blurred the marks were clearly from someone’s hands. Unusually large hands. Rees was almost positive the bruises would match those around Leah’s throat. He would have to take a closer look when the light was better.

  He stepped over and removed the pine boughs from the body on the ground. Turning over this cadaver was much more difficult but when the larger form was stretched out on the rock his cause of death was obvious. A bullet hole pierced his forehead, over the left eyebrow.

  ‘That’s a pretty small wound,’ Rouge said, peering over Rees’s shoulder.

  ‘Not a hunting rifle,’ Rees agreed.

  Rouge exhaled and looked at the other fellow. ‘Go on home. I know where to find you if I need you.’

  The hunter turned and disappeared silently into the woods.

  ‘What do you think? A dueling pistol?’ Rees asked.

  ‘Or a muff pistol,’ Rouge said.

  Rees nodded. ‘The Ladies’ Protector,’ he said. The small pistol fired only one shot and although women carried the pistol, which was small enough to hide in a muff, it was also used by gentlemen who slid it into their pockets.

  This victim had been dragged to the side and covered up immediately after death; the pine boughs and the rock underneath the head were stained with blood.

  ‘Are these the men you saw at the circus?’ Rouge asked.

  ‘Yes.’ Rees inhaled, recalling one of his mother’s favorite expressions: those who lived by the sword, died by the sword. ‘I wager the man who hired them murdered them.’

  ‘You think he didn’t want to pay?’ Rouge asked.

  ‘Or because they made such a serious mistake, killing Boudreaux instead of me,’ Rees said.

  ‘That makes sense,’ Rouge agreed. ‘But why come here? In the middle of nowhere?’

  ‘He didn’t want anyone to see him,’ Rees said. ‘Clearly.’ He turned to look at Rouge. ‘This was someone who is easily recognizable. And with a lot to lose.’

  ‘Surely you aren’t thinking of the magistrate,’ Rouge said incredulously.

  ‘Why not? He is exactly the sort of gentleman who would carry a small pistol.’

  Rouge, his mouth agape, stared at Rees. In the yellow lamplight, the constable’s skin looked puffy and discolored, his eye sockets deep-set and hollow. He slowly
shook his head.

  ‘No. He isn’t strong enough to overpower two men, especially when one was so much larger.’

  Rees turned and looked behind him. The sky was fully dark now and he could barely see the bodies. ‘You’re right. And I can’t think of anyone who could overpower two such villains. Not without trickery.’

  ‘Or help,’ Rouge said. ‘There had to be two people.’

  Rees nodded slowly. ‘Except …’ He paused, thinking. ‘What if these villains came here to be paid? The murderer shoots the bigger man and then overpowers the smaller man and strangles him.’

  ‘And what was the smaller man doing while his companion was being shot?’ Rouge asked doubtfully. ‘Just standing there?’

  ‘Maybe the smaller fellow shot his companion thinking he would be paid the full sum?’ Rees suggested. ‘There is no honor among thieves.’

  Rouge shook his head, unconvinced. ‘Perhaps. We’ll sort this out later. We need to get these bodies back to town.’

  ‘In my wagon,’ Rees said, casting a sour look at the constable. Now he knew why Rouge had told him to bring the wagon – to carry the bodies. He was beginning to think his wagon was being used to transport the dead more often than his loom.

  ‘There’s nothing else,’ Rouge said. Rees grunted. That was true, but he didn’t like it.

  Guessing correctly that he would be able to carry the smaller of the two men Rees slung the body over his shoulder and started down the slope. The thicket where the two men had been dumped wasn’t far from the road although protected from view by heavy vegetation. No doubt the murderer had expected the bodies to remain hidden at least until autumn. With Rouge holding both lanterns to light the way, Rees trudged one step at a time over the rough ground. The section of the path tangled with the tree roots was the worst. He stumbled over the thick knots, alternately tripping and almost losing his balance or sliding into a hollow and fearing he would twist an ankle. The flat ground felt like mercy. He hurried to the wagon and dropped the body inside, shuddering when the head bounced off the wood panels with a thud.