Fury

by Bill Bright

  From the lack of expression on Uncle Asa’s face, he already knew about the delivery. So why was he asking questions? What was he leading up to?

  “Anybody go with you?” Uncle Asa asked.

  Irritated that his uncle was asking questions for which he already knew the answers, Daniel dropped his spoon and glared at him. But all he saw was the top of his uncle’s head as he fed himself.

  Daniel looked to his Aunt Camilla, who pleaded patience with her eyes.For my sake…please.

  “No, I didn’t go out there alone,” Daniel said, for his aunt’s sake. “Mr. Gregg went with me. But you already know that, don’t you?”

  “Cyrus Gregg?” his aunt said, surprised. “You spent the entire day with Cyrus? That’s unusual, isn’t it? I wouldn’t think a man of his importance would make deliveries.”

  “It’shighly unusual,” Uncle Asa said. “However, as it turns out, it was providential for Daniel.”

  “Oh? Something happened?” Aunt Camilla asked, eager to hear the news.

  His uncle was acting like it was his story to tell. So Daniel let him tell it.

  “Seems the head boy at Cyrus’s shop met with an unfortunate accident, and since he had no family, other than a distant cousin from Matildaville who happened to be visiting him, Cyrus Gregg took it upon himself to give the boy a proper burial.”

  Aunt Camilla’s brow furrowed. She’d been expecting good news.

  Uncle Asa looked straight at Daniel. “That’s the kind of man Cyrus Gregg is.”

  “How is this poor boy’s misfortune providential for Daniel?” Aunt Camilla asked.

  Uncle Asa pointed at Daniel with his spoon. “You’re looking at the new head boy at Cyrus Gregg’s shop.”

  Aunt Camilla clasped her hands. “That’s wonderful news, Daniel! Only…did you know the other boy well? Was he a friend?”

  “I barely knew him, and it was only for the day—the head-boy position,” Daniel muttered.

  “Not by the way Cyrus Gregg was going on about you it isn’t,” Uncle Asa said.

  “Cyrus talked to you about Daniel?”

  “We had a nice long conversation about him,” Uncle Asa said. To Daniel, “You made quite an impression on your boss. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Cyrus Gregg that enthused before.”

  Daniel smiled inwardly. Lest his uncle see how pleased the comment made him, he lowered his head, took a bite of stew, and chewed nonchalantly.

  “Seems our boy here…,” Uncle Asa said to his wife.

  I’m not your boy.

  “…is drawing up plans to improve one of Cyrus Gregg’s inventions. A revolving washing machine.”

  “Really, Daniel?” Aunt Camilla asked.

  Without looking up, Daniel said, “It’s nothing. Just some ribs inside the washing cylinder that will increase the agitation.”

  “Sounds complicated to me,” Aunt Camilla said.

  “Cyrus was telling me he sees unlimited potential in Daniel,” Uncle Asa continued. “Seems he wants to take Daniel out of the shop and give him greater responsibilities on larger projects.”

  “Oh, Daniel, I’m so happy for you!” Aunt Camilla clapped her hands. “You must be thrilled!”

  Daniel allowed himself a smile. For her.

  “There’s more,” Uncle Asa said.

  “More?” Aunt Camilla cried.

  Daniel looked up. What more?

  “Cyrus Gregg has extended an invitation to us to join him at his house on Christmas Eve.”

  “Asa! I don’t have anything to wear!”

  His uncle’s beaming smile and his aunt’s exuberant cry led Daniel to think there was more to this invitation than just cookies and punch. “What’s the big deal?” he asked.

  Uncle Asa interlaced his hands, forming a canopy over his stew. He leaned forward on his elbows and explained. “Cyrus Gregg’s Christmas parties are the social event of the year in Cumberland. Invitations are coveted and normally reserved for community leaders, senators, and representatives. The powerful, the moneyed, the upper crust. Men’s fortunes have been known to change simply by receiving an invitation.”

  “I don’t understand,” Daniel said. “I thought you were his friend. He’s never invited you before now?”

  “A man like Cyrus Gregg operates on various levels. Yes, I’m his friend and neighbor. But I’m an educator. The people invited to Cyrus Gregg’s Christmas party have little use for educators.”

  “Now, Asa,” Aunt Camilla said, “don’t belittle your contribution to society.”

  “So why did he invite you this year?”

  Uncle Asa’s eyes narrowed defensively. “He invited thethree of us. If you want my opinion, he wants you there. Camilla and I are window dressing.”

  That’s what Daniel had surmised. He just wanted to hear his uncle say it.

  Men’s fortunes have been known to change simply by receiving an invitation.

  Daniel grinned. He couldn’t seem to stop grinning even after taking a bite of stew. He exchanged glances with Aunt Camilla, who was grinning too. She was happy for him.

  To Uncle Asa’s credit, he let Daniel have his moment. But only a moment.

  “I hope you realize what this means,” Uncle Asa said seriously. “Not just the Christmas Eve social, but your relationship to Cyrus Gregg.”

  It was almost humorous. All Daniel had thought about since last night was him and Cyrus Gregg.

  “I think I do.”

  “Youthink you do? You’d better do more than just think, young man.”

  His uncle had switched to his lecturing tone. Daniel hated it when his uncle turned the dinner table into a classroom and he was the only student.

  Daniel felt his ire rising. “I know better what I’m getting into than you do!”

  The instant he said it, he wished he hadn’t. Not only did it provoke his uncle, which he’d intended. It opened the door to a discussion, which he didn’t intend.

  “Oh, you do, do you?” his uncle thundered. “I’ve known Cyrus Gregg for eleven years. You spend one afternoon with him and you’ve sized him up, have you?”

  “Asa…Daniel…,” Aunt Camilla warned.

  But the line had been drawn, and his uncle had crossed it. Daniel wasn’t going to back down this time.

  “You’d be surprised how much you don’t know about your good friend, Cyrus Gregg,” he said.

  “Of all the insolence!” His uncle threw his napkin on the table. “You sweep the man’s floors and take an afternoon ride with him, and all of a sudden you’re an expert on all things Cyrus Gregg?”

  “Not an expert, but I know enough to know I’d be crazy to be associated with him!”

  The statement shocked Daniel as much as it did his uncle. Apparently, deep inside, he knew he could never work with Gregg. Even though he hadn’t yet admitted it to himself. Even though a part of him still warmed at the remembrance of their discussion in the wagon.

  Uncle Asa was out of his seat so quickly, he startled his wife.

  “Asa, for goodness’ sake! Sit down!”

  “I’ll not have a fine man such as Cyrus Greg dishonored at my table!”

  Daniel fought the urge to get to his feet and take his uncle on, head to head. For once he could put his uncle in his place and prove that he didn’t know what he was talking about.

  Instead Daniel broke eye contact with his uncle and lowered his gaze. “I don’t mean to speak ill of Mr. Gregg. I like him. I like him a lot.”

  “And well you should!” His uncle came at Daniel around the table, leaning on it in absence of a cane. “What is it with you? Every time folks try to help you, you turn against them. You treat them as though they’re the enemy!”

  “Asa…please,” Aunt Camilla begged.

  With his uncle hovering over him, Daniel felt trapped. Belittled. Suffocated. He didn’t like the feeling. He pushed back his chair and stood. At full height, now he was looking down at his uncle.

  His aunt reached across the table and tugged at his shirt sleeve to h
old him back. “Daniel…”

  Uncle Asa’s face was red and glistening. His eyes were charged with anger. But there was pain too. Behind the angry sparks there was pain.

  “Every time folks try to help you, you turn against them. You treat them as though they’re the enemy.”

  Was this argument still about Cyrus Gregg, or was Uncle Asa talking about himself and Aunt Camilla now?

  Daniel’s presence in the house had been hard on all of them. Some of it was Daniel’s fault. But some of it was his uncle’s fault too. And that was something his uncle would never admit.

  “All I’m saying is that I know some things about Cyrus Gregg,” Daniel said. “I can’t work with him. After Christmas I’ll start looking for another job.”

  “No. Not good enough!” his uncle replied.

  “Daniel, dear, what is it about Cyrus that bothers you? Maybe if you talk to him…”

  Daniel shook his head. “Talking will do no good. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

  He turned to leave.

  His uncle caught him by the arm.

  Daniel tugged to get free. His uncle’s grip held.

  His uncle’s eyes locked on to his. “First, you decide you don’t want to attend school. You promise to find a job. Now, for no good reason, you want to quit that job, just when one of the most influential men in Cumberland takes an interest in you. All you want to do is play that blasted pipe day and night. Well, that’s not good enough!”

  “It’s not a pipe! It’s a bass recorder!”

  “I don’t care!” his uncle roared.

  Aunt Camilla whimpered as though she’d never seen her husband this angry before.

  Daniel and his uncle glared at each other for what seemed an eternity.

  When his uncle spoke, he did so with great restraint. “You have a job. Tomorrow you will go to work. Christmas Eve, you will attend Cyrus Gregg’s party with your aunt and me. You will work through your personal differences with Cyrus Gregg because that’s what men do. They don’t run away every time something happens that doesn’t suit them. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Cyrus Gregg is a murderer.”

  His uncle’s grip on Daniel’s arm failed.

  Aunt Camilla gasped.

  They stared at him dumbly. But Daniel didn’t regret saying it.

  “I saw it. Last night in the alley behind the shop. Emil Braxton, the head boy? His death wasn’t an accident. He didn’t drown. His throat was slit.”

  Aunt Camilla cried out.

  “Now I know you’re lying,” his uncle said. “Cyrus Gregg is incapable of—”

  “I know. He can’t stand the sight of blood, or death. So he hired a killer, the man he says is Braxton’s cousin. I’m telling you, I saw it. The murder. And Mr. Gregg arranging to pay the killer when it was done.”

  His uncle was shaking his head. “I can’t believe that the man I’ve known all these years…”

  “It explains why he rode out to Braddock Creek, doesn’t it? To make sure the body was disposed of.”

  “You saw the body?” his uncle asked him.

  “I helped the killer lift it into the casket.”

  Aunt Camilla’s eyes were wide with horror. She held her hand over her mouth to stifle the sounds coming from it.

  “And you saw that he wasn’t drowned. That there was a cut across his throat sufficient to kill him?”

  “His clothes were wet. And the killer had wrapped some kind of scarf around his throat to hide the wound.”

  “I see,” said his uncle.

  Daniel did, too. His uncle didn’t believe him.

  “But the boy was killed in the alley last night, and you’re certain you saw Cyrus Gregg there, in the alley?”

  “When Braxton’s throat was cut, he fell inches from me,” Daniel said, hating that he was pleading.

  “You witnessed the whole thing, and the killer just let you walk out of the alley?”

  “I was hiding.”

  “So he didn’t see you?”

  “No…” A residue of doubt kept him from saying it emphatically.

  “And Cyrus Gregg. Did he see you?”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Daniel,” his aunt said, her voice muffled, “I’ve known Cyrus Gregg all my life. He is not the sort of man who would—”

  Uncle Asa cut her off with an uplifted hand. “The wound,” he said to Daniel. “From here to here?” His uncle made a slashing motion from ear to ear.

  “Yes.”

  “A deep wound?”

  “Deep enough to kill him.”

  “Such a wound would leave a lot of blood.”

  Daniel saw where he was going. “Someone dumped a pile of manure on the spot early this morning. I don’t think it was by accident.”

  “Grab your coat,” his uncle said.

  “Asa? What are you doing?”

  “Go on.” His uncle motioned Daniel upstairs. “Get your coat. I want to see this untimely placed manure pile.”

  Daniel excused himself to his aunt and made his way up the stairs. He felt badly about ruining Aunt Camilla’s dinner, but it wasn’t his fault. Behind him he could hear his uncle attempting to apologize.

  Aunt Camilla wasn’t making it easy for him.

  Good.

  Chapter 9

  Camilla was in bed when Asa returned. He eased the door closed, and the latch clicked softly. Waiting for his eyes to adjust, he moved cautiously across the room.

  “I’m not asleep,” Camilla said.

  A rustle of bedclothes and the lamp beside the bed sprang to life.

  “I was trying not to disturb you,” Asa said.

  “I’ve been waiting for you. How did…oh, Asa!” She wrinkled her nose. “Heavens, Asa! That smell!”

  “Sorry.” He looked at his feet. “I left my boots outside on the porch step. I thought that would be enough.”

  Camilla covered her nose and mouth with the blanket.

  Asa stripped off his pants, socks, and shirt, wadded them into a ball, hobbled across the room, tossed them into the hallway, and closed the door. “Better?”

  “It’s hard to tell.” She didn’t lower the blankets.

  Asa slipped on his nightshirt and crawled into bed. “Sorry,” he said again. “After you’ve been around it awhile, it loses its pungency.”

  “Somehow I’m finding that hard to believe.” Camilla lowered the blanket, took a sniff, and evidently decided it was safe to breathe again. “How did it go?”

  “Daniel’s in his room sulking. I managed to talk him into returning to work in the morning.”

  Asa pulled the covers to his chin and made nesting moves to get warm.

  “In the alley…did you find…?” Camilla asked.

  “A pile of manure? Aya, we did.”

  Camilla shoved him playfully. It was the very response he was after.

  “You know, I would be perfectly within my wifely rights if I insisted you sleep in the barn tonight.”

  “I don’t know what we saw,” Asa said, in answer to her question. “There were stains. They could have been blood, I suppose. But even if it was…is it human blood? All manner of things have been spilled in that alley over the years.”

  “So you’re saying you don’t believe Daniel’s story?”

  This was the question he knew Camilla most wanted answered. Knowing she would ask it didn’t make it any easier to answer.

  Before Asa and Camilla had met, she had been feverishly courted by Cyrus Gregg. From the way she smiled at him, she still held a special place in her heart for him. The one time Asa had asked her directly why she didn’t marry Cyrus Gregg, she had smiled, kissed him on the cheek, and said, “I was waiting for you to come along.”

  It was clear Cyrus Gregg still had feelings for Camilla. On more than one occasion Asa had caught the man gazing longingly at her when he thought no one was looking. And it was Cyrus who was most directly responsible for luring Asa away from Yale. Sometimes he wondered if Cyrus Gregg did it just
to get Camilla back in Cumberland.

  “How can I believe Daniel’s story?” Asa replied. “You know Cyrus Gregg better than I do. All I know is that if the boy had stayed in his room like he was supposed to last night, I wouldn’t smell like manure and we wouldn’t be having this discussion.”

  The room fell silent.

  Then, in a small voice, Camilla said, “So you don’t think Cyrus had anything to do with that boy’s death?”

  He knew she needed to hear him say it.

  “No, I don’t think Cyrus Gregg murdered that boy.”

  “Why would Daniel say he did?”

  Asa rolled over into his sleeping position. “I have my theories, but this is not the time to test them. We’ve done all we can tonight.” He closed his eyes.

  The bed creaked, and he heard Camilla blow the lamp out.

  “I’ll ride by the shop and talk to Cyrus after school tomorrow,” Asa said to the dark. “With a few more facts, maybe we can solve this mystery.”

  They fell silent. Sleep did not come readily. Camilla tossed and turned for over an hour. Asa couldn’t seem to turn his mind off. There had to be a reason Daniel was lying about Cyrus Gregg being in that alley. Had the boy made up the entire story by turning his friend’s accidental death into a murder? For what purpose? For some reason, the boy seemed determined to sabotage his own life.

  Asa was determined not to let him.

  The thought of Eli and Maggy looking down at him from heaven strengthened his resolve.

  Daniel sat on his bed, his legs pulled against his chest. Prostrate before him was his black recorder. Daniel’s eyes were fixed on the instrument, but his mind had wandered back to the alley, where the murder played out for the hundredth time.

  His uncle didn’t believe him.

  While his uncle had shoveled tirelessly in search of bloodstains, Daniel didn’t think that he shoveled with an open mind. The man’s thoroughness was not from zeal to prove Daniel right, but to eliminate any possible reason to believe him. Which he had seemed to accomplish tonight.

  Undaunted by their lack of convincing proof, Daniel knew what he witnessed in that alley.

  The wind rattled his window.

  Daniel glanced over at the featureless black pane of glass. It looked so foreboding. There had always been a moving portrait of branches there, painted by interior light. Tonight they were gone, cut down on his uncle’s orders as punishment for Daniel’s transgression. All that was left was a featureless black canvas.