Stela nodded. “My aunt had thought she would come back to reclaim this barrel before the end of the year, but she died not long after they made it to Charleston.”
“Yes, she died,” Madame Endora said, disgusted. “Of a broken heart. And it was no surprise to me after she married that horrible, lying man. I warned her.”
Adam sighed in frustration. He wasn’t going to get involved with their family squabbles. Instead, he had another observation to make.
“These items in here—they aren’t just for bootlegging. What is the story behind the things in the top compartment? Some of them seem like they could be valuable, but the others… I don’t reckon they would be.”
“Those are personal items from her family—our family. They were treasures to her. She put them there for safekeeping.”
“I don’t know,” said Jones. “Seems an awful lot of trouble to go to for just a few pounds.”
Adam closed the compartments on the barrel and stood facing the women. “Mostly I’m just horrified she’d lie about having a dead child. What kind of a person does that?”
“What do you know?” said Madame Endora bitterly. “She did have a dead child. A baby girl—with that horrible Smith man. She did not carry the child in the barrel, but she carried her memory there. The doll in the top of that barrel was made as a—how do you say it?—a memento of her.”
At that, Adam felt some sympathy for the woman who had brought this barrel to Beaufort. He couldn’t judge her for smuggling in the cards and dice. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t had a hand in occasionally smuggling items duty-free through his work at his grandfather’s shipping company. And the sentimental items? He could understand that, too. In truth, he suspected there was something more valuable in that leather bag. He’d felt the weight of it and was nearly certain what Stela had said was only a half truth, but he wasn’t going to push the matter.
“I have a question,” asked the constable. “If your sister died shortly after they made it to Charleston, and the rest of y’all have been up north, how is it that you came to learn of the barrel?”
“When my sister died, her sons came north to find us. Our people, we know how to find each other. They told us of what had happened, and we agreed that we would come help them recover my sister’s—their mother’s—things.”
“Why did she go to Charleston in the first place?” asked Jones. “They ain’t exactly known for havin a bunch of gypsies down there.”
“My sister fell in love with a gadjo.” She said it with such anger, if words could kill, Madame Endora would have been a murderer. “She knew better, but she could not resist his charms. He went to Charleston and sent for her when he got there. She came to America with her sons—they were from her first husband. He was a good man. He was one of us.” She took a deep breath before finishing her story. “When she arrived, she learned that gadjo had gone away with another woman and left her there all alone to care for her sons. She was so upset, she grieved herself to death.”
“And this gadjo, his name was Smith?” asked Adam.
Madame Endora gave a sharp nod and spat on the ground.
“You understand now, right?” said Stela. “Will you let us go, please? We have not stolen any dead girl. It was all a misunderstanding.”
Adam, Jones, and the constable all exchanged glances. The constable sighed and was about to speak when Adam said, “Wait, taking the barrel out of the graveyard was only half of the problem.” He walked over and stood directly in front of Madame Endora. “You poisoned my friend. And if it weren’t for your daughter, he might’ve died.”
The old gypsy woman fumed at her daughter and called her a name in a foreign language.
Stela wrinkled her brow and had a hurt expression. “I am sorry, Mama! But Amy told me of the bottle you gave this man. He does not know what it is. It could have killed him.”
“Only if he is a glutton!” she countered. “Only if he is a drunkard! He would have killed himself if he was such a fool as to drink it all! And then it would serve him right for defiling my daughter!”
“Mama! We only talked and danced! That does not make me defiled.” Stela was in tears.
“That is already too much,” said the old woman. “One Smith caused my sister to die. I will not give another Smith man a chance to do the same to my daughter.”
Constable Squires chuckled. “I can almost understand you wantin to poison Martin Smith. I reckon there are right many mothers and fathers around Carteret County who might like to do the same thing, but he’ll get his one day ’less he straightens up. You ought to know, though, that not all Smith men are bad. Martin’s daddy was a good man.”
“Wait a minute,” said Adam. He turned his attention to Stela. “Who was the man you told me about at the warehouse? The one you said had spoken to your mother about Martin?”
Stela looked nervously at her mother, then shrugged.
“What’s he talking about?” the constable asked Madame Endora.
The woman shook her head. “No. No! This has nothing to do with me. This is a problem for your people.”
“But he came to see you, though, Mama,” Stela countered. “You should tell them.”
Madame Endora rolled her eyes and huffed. “Fine!” She turned her attention to the constable. “A man from your town—a big man, very tall, very strong—came to my tent last weekend.”
Adam immediately knew she was talking about Hardy Green. He was about six foot four inches tall and very muscular.
She continued. “He did not understand how we do things. He asked me if he could pay me to put a curse on this Martin Smith so that he would have no trouble with him anymore. I think he wanted me to curse him to death. This man, he said Martin Smith was involved with his wife and this could not be. I have no power to put curses on anybody, but this man, he did not know that.”
“But you told him you could,” said Stela, “and you took his money.”
“Of course I did. The fool!” She waved her hand dismissively. “He should have known better.”
“What does she mean?” Adam asked Stela.
“She means she tricked him because he came seeking something he should have never sought. She gave him what he wanted—or so he thought—a spell to curse your friend, but that is not what he got from her.”
“What did he get then?” asked Jones.
“Just some words. But he did not know this.”
“And he paid you for this spell?” Adam asked Madame Endora.
“Yes he did, and he was happy about it.” She flipped out her palms as she responded emphatically.
“So you tricked him out of his money,” said Adam, “and made him think you were helping him to kill my friend?”
“Yes. I took his money. I’m glad of it. Serves him right! He should not have been devising such evil—even against your womanizing friend.”
Adam laughed out loud. “You say that, and yet you poisoned him yourself!”
The old woman shook her head. “I tell you this potion I gave him would not have killed him unless he took too much. Any of your gadje medicines could have done the same, could they not? Maybe this experience will teach him a lesson about leaving alone nice girls like my Stela.”
“Teach him a lesson? We found him half-naked up a tree near Taylor Creek. He could’ve fallen out onto the ground and broken his neck, or even hurt someone else if we hadn’t found him.”
“Then just be glad that you did find him,” Madame Endora countered. “As long as he doesn’t keep drinking the medicine, what he has taken will leave him, and he will eventually be fine. Now may we please go? Or do you plan to take us to your gaol?”
Adam, Jones, and the constable all looked at each other, apparently unsure of what course they should take, given the circumstances.
Finally, the constable spoke up. “Listen, your sister violated laws of trade by smuggling in the items she had in that barrel, and not to mention her method for smuggli
ng has to be the most gruesome thing I’ve ever heard of, but as you said, she’s dead now herself. It would have been better for you to notify someone in the town about what had happened and request that the barrel be unearthed rather than doing it yourself.”
“And the authorities in your fine town would have listened to some gypsy woman asking to dig up a grave, would they?” she responded.
Constable Squires sighed, then shrugged. “Well, maybe not. Nevertheless, considering you were not the one who created the deception about the girl in the barrel, and because you didn’t actually rob a grave but just recovered some items your sister had deceptively buried, there is no real punishable crime there.”
Madame Endora gave a deep nod and a smile, as if to say, Thank you.
“Now, let’s talk about this business with that spell you sold Hardy Green, and then we can talk about that dangerous concoction you gave to Martin Smith. In the first case, that spell sounds to me like it’s some kind of fraud, but I reckon he was near ’bout tryin to hire you to murder ol’ Martin, so you just lied to him so you could take his money, and I ain’t gonna arrest you for that—there ain’t a jury that’d convict you. Now in the second case, if Martin Smith had died, or if he’d hurt someone else in his stupor, we’d be dealin with manslaughter. I’d say you’re real lucky neither of those things happened. If they had, I reckon it still might be hard to get a jury to convict you. Hell, they’d probably pin a medal on you, since that fella’s gotten so many folks riled up with his whorin around, but I’m gon’ tell you right now that I don’t take kindly—not one little bit—to some outsider comin in and messin with our folks from town. No, I ain’t gonna arrest you, but I am gonna tell you that if y’all come to Beaufort again, you ain’t gon’ be able to make a ha’penny, ’cause I’ll make sure of it. In fact, I’ll cite you for every single thing I can come up with to fine you till you never want to come back. You hear?”
Madame Endora rolled her eyes and nodded. “Fine. We do not even want to come back to your little town, so it is of no consequence to us.”
They all stood around looking at each other in silence for a moment before the old woman asked, “Will you at least help us put the barrel back in our wagon so we can be on our way?”
The constable nodded. “I reckon we’ll do that.”
Adam and Jones quickly hoisted the heavy barrel and returned it to its place. Even though there was nobody inside, and it wasn’t it full of rum, the sheer weight of the solid oak cask was impressive. Adam couldn’t help but wonder if it would be reused for future smuggling schemes.
Soon the gypsy women were riding on down the Bridge Road along Bogue Sound. Adam, Jones, and Constable Squires stood by and allowed them to get a head start.
Chapter Twenty-Two
AS THE THREE MEN MADE their way back to Beaufort, they were all relieved to have been able to put the disturbed grave matter to rest. Now they needed to pay a visit to Hardy Green.
They had to travel an hour back to the landing for the ferry across the Newport River. Then they had to wait another two hours before Mr. Austin came across with the ferry again. When they finally made it back to Beaufort, it was almost nightfall.
“Let’s just go right to Hardy Green’s house,” said Adam. “Get this thing over with.”
“Sounds like a right good plan to me, mate,” Jones concurred.
The constable looked tired, but he nodded in agreement. He went ahead of them on horseback, as he had the whole way, and they were soon over on Queen Street at the Green residence. Adam and Jones followed the constable up on the porch. The lawman knocked on the door. There was no answer.
Adam tried to look in the window to see if anyone was home, but there was no one that he could tell. He looked over to the nearest neighbor’s house and noticed they appeared to be home.
“I’ll go over there and ask if they have any idea where he is.”
Adam ran across the street and knocked on the door of the neighbor’s house. The constable and Jones waited out in the street.
A young woman answered the door.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” said Adam. “We were just looking for Hardy Green or his wife. You don’t have any idea where they might’ve gone, do you?”
The woman gave him a concerned look. “Oh, I’m sorry. You don’t know?”
Adam shook his head. “Know what?”
“Poor Jenny woke up this morning to find her husband had dropped dead sometime during the night. She discovered him on the floor of their sitting room.”
That news came as a shock. “Where are they?” Adam asked. “I mean, where is Jenny?”
“From what I understand, Hardy’s brothers came and got him. They’ve taken him out to his father’s farm north of town so they can bury him in the family plot. Jenny is with them, of course.”
Constable Squires and Ricky Jones must have been able to tell Adam had gotten some surprising news, because they came to join him on the porch to find out what had happened.
Adam told them, then thanked the neighbor for the information.
The men went back over to where the constable’s horse and Emmanuel’s horse cart were waiting.
“I can’t believe this,” said Adam. “What are the chances of something like this happening?”
The constable shook his head. “I don’t have the foggiest idea, but I reckon it’s some kind of divine justice.”
“I reckon it is,” said Adam, “but at the same time I feel sorry for him. What man wants to be a cuckold?”
Both the constable and Jones shook their heads.
“Not me, mate,” said Jones.
“Me neither,” the constable agreed.
“Madame Endora’s right about one thing,” said Adam. “If Martin does get better from that poison, he’s going to have to learn some important lessons. He’s had one too many close calls if you ask me.”
At that, the three men bade each other farewell.
Jones lived close by, so he decided he would walk home. The constable said he’d let the magistrate know all that had happened the next morning.
Adam decided he’d drop by the tavern for a little while before he took the horse cart back to the warehouse. He could use a pint and a good meal, and he wanted to warn Valentine about the oysters at Town Creek. On the way to the Topsail, he decided he’d definitely have to write an article about all that had happened with the gypsies and send it in to the Gazette. Or maybe he would deliver the story himself. He wouldn’t want to risk something happening to it along the way.
“I AM WORN SLAM OUT,” Adam said as he plopped down in his favorite stool at the bar of the Topsail Tavern. The place was about to close and only had one table of patrons left—not surprising on a Sunday night.
“Where’s Mama?” he asked.
“She went to bed just a few minutes ago. I told her I’d see those fellows out.” Valentine was drying pint glasses and putting them on the shelf behind the counter.
“She’s not feeling sick, now is she?”
“Nah. Just tired,” said Valentine. “I’m surprised to see you here. Heard y’all were going after those gypsies. Didn’t figure you’d be back until at least tomorrow.”
“Oh, it’s a long story,” said Adam, “but we didn’t even have to go more than an hour on the Bridge Road once we got across the Newport River.”
He proceeded to explain everything that he had learned about the robbed grave and the gypsy woman who had brought the barrel to town two years earlier. Then he told Valentine what he had found out about the oysters and warned him against getting any from the spot near Town Creek. He said that the constable would be putting a sign out there the next day to warn folks off of fishing along that little stretch. Finally, he explained about what had happened with Martin, including Hardy Green’s death.
“Well, you never know,” said Valentine. “Could be just the thing to shake a knot him—get him to screw his head on straight. He and Jenny might end
up together, or it could be that the interest will be gone now that it’s not a forbidden affair. You never can tell with folks.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Adam agreed.
“If you’re still hungry, you can go on back to the kitchen and see if there’s some fried chicken. I know there was right much of it left when your mama went upstairs to bed.”
Adam smiled. “Sounds good. I’m starving.”
He went into the kitchen and fixed himself a plate piled high with everything he could find back there that still seemed edible, then came back out into the dining room and poured himself a pint of cider and sat back down at the bar.
“You know,” he said, “I’m relieved we know what was causing all that sickness. And I’m relieved to know the truth behind what happened with that grave, but I’ve got to admit I still feel a little uneasy… like something big is about to happen.”
Valentine waved his hand dismissively at Adam. “Ah, that’s just you. I’ve always told you, you think too much. And seems like the older you get, the more you worry.”
Adam swallowed his mouthful of chicken and took a sip of cider. “Maybe it’s because the older I’ve gotten, I’ve seen just how crazy this world is. There are so many bad people out there, you know? Some folks just act like they don’t care anything about anybody but themselves.”
Valentine nodded. “That is very true.”
“Does it ever get better, or is this just what it’s going to be like?”
Valentine looked up from what he was working on and seemed pensive for a moment. “The world is going to hell in a handbasket. That’s nothing new. That’s been going on since Adam and Eve first listened to that damned snake in the garden. I figure all any of us can do is just try to make wise choices and act right, and hopefully things will all work out in the end.”
A philosopher Valentine Hodges was not, but somehow his simple observation was comforting to Adam.
“You know,” said Adam, “I’m thinking about writing an article about all that’s happened here recently with the gypsies and the graveyard and all and sending it to the Gazette.”
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