Harry remembered her lifeless body in the driver’s seat. “I’m sorry I didn’t know her better.”
“Here’s the thing. She checked out thallium chloride from the hospital. Dr. Fishbein swears he did not prescribe it to anyone. Why would he? But Barbara checked it out, using her initials.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“Why would I? She signed an old logbook, which she placed in a desk drawer. She didn’t use the computer to enter the information.”
“Coop, that is odd. Maybe she made money selling it.”
“To whom? People don’t abuse thallium chloride. They want Oxycontin and stuff like that. And if she was selling it, why leave her initials in an old logbook?”
“Maybe she really was contemplating suicide.”
“Always a possibility. I can’t count the times when we’ve investigated a suicide and people said, ‘They seemed fine.’ Some people are obviously distressed. Others hid it. Barbara Leader was murdered.”
“What does Rick think?”
“Murdered. The drug results in a swift death. One doesn’t shoot up thallium chloride.”
By the time they reached the outskirts of Richmond, both were still focused on this strange event.
Harry finally said, “What if Barbara took the drug to kill someone else? Maybe a patient in terrible pain.”
“Thought of that, too. She had no record of any suspicious deaths on her watch. Also, her family and friends mentioned she was opposed to assisted suicide. Her husband quoted her as saying ‘God gives life and God takes life, not us.’ ”
“What a moral tangle. Who wants to see someone suffer prolonged intense misery? But it does seem wrong to kill someone. And then I think of battle, especially prior to mechanized warfare, the coup de grace.”
“Maybe this was a coup de grace, unlikely as that seems.” Cooper flicked her fingernails on the passenger window, making a rapid rattling sound.
“She could have taken the drug to hand over to someone else whose spouse or child was suffering.”
“Possible. Either out of compassion or for money.”
“Coop, did she need money?”
“No. She and her husband were not rich but living within their means.”
“That alone is a miracle,” Harry ruefully said. “This is what I think. She lifted the drug. We don’t know why but someone else knew. Either it was for them to put them out of misery or for them to kill someone out of mercy. That person, afraid that she might talk if there’s suspicion, kills her.”
“Possible.”
“We need to find out who knew.”
“Harry.” Cooper raised her voice. “Once we found the evidence everyone in the hematology department knew, as well as Dr. Fishbein’s staff.”
“Let me amend that. Who knew she took it who wasn’t a medical person?” Harry turned off I-95, which she had switched onto as they approached Richmond. She took the Broad Street exit.
“Why are you taking this exit? Ledbury’s is farther downtown on South Fourteenth Street.”
“ ’Cause if I take the Broad Street exit, I know where I am. Richmond used to be easy to drive in. Not anymore,” Harry defended her driving. “Another thought. Maybe Barbara taking the thallium chloride has nothing to do with suffering.”
“Harry, that’s impossible. Why would she or anyone want such a lethal drug?”
“Maybe it is murder, pure and simple.”
“So she knew too much? She was too compassionate to kill someone else. Not the type to assist in murder for reasons which we can’t fathom. Suffering makes more sense.”
“It does, but as you know better than I, murder always makes sense to the murderer. And most murderers believe they will never be caught. Maybe Barbara or her family was threatened. She left evidence that she took the thallium chloride. It wasn’t immediately obvious, but she wanted it known for other reasons. Maybe she left a clue because she feared for her own life.”
Once at Ledbury’s, they opened the door to be greeted by a handsome wire-haired fox terrier.
“Willoughby, where’s Daddy?” Harry recognized the fellow, tail vigorously wagging.
“Dazzled by choices.” Bill Hall’s deep voice rang out.
The two women joined him where he had shirts spread on a table. In good shape, he could wear anything but was stymied by all the choices and colors.
Harry and Cooper knew Bill from his work for the Fur Ball, one of Richmond’s coveted fund-raisers, as it was always fun, plus it helped animals.
Pointing to a subtle striped shirt, Harry suggested it “Very Belgravia,” mentioning an old, desirable section of London.
“Is,” he replied. “And what are you two doing here?”
“A husband run. Wanted to buy Fair something special,” Harry said.
“No husband yet,” Cooper joked.
“Well, that’s both good and bad. Men can be a lot of work.” Bill laughed devilishly, then inquired, “How’s Governor Sam?”
Bill knew the Albemarle County contingent as they came to the Fur Ball, he knew Susan was Sam Holloway’s granddaughter, and he also knew the governor. Bill knew everyone, having served on numerous committees, and he was a real whiz as a fund-raiser.
“Good spirits. Penny’s wonderful with him, as is Susan’s mother. He’s working on his autobiography.”
“That will be an important book.” Bill meant that.
“Hey, how’s O.B.?” Harry changed the subject.
O.B. meant the “other Bill,” as Bill Hall’s partner had the same first name. It could get confusing but never to Willoughby because they smelled different. All humans do but they don’t seem able to detect it.
“An engine of energy and chat, as always.” Bill smiled broadly. “Before I forget, check out Fetch-A-Cure, the comprehensive oncology center. They’re doing amazing things that might eventually help people.” He paused, then inquired, “The governor has cancer, doesn’t he?”
Harry replied, “Leukemia.”
“Ah.” Bill grimaced.
Cooper added, “The man is really tough.”
“You have to be to be the governor of Virginia, especially when people can cite precedent back to 1607.” Bill said, “Not the cannibalism, of course.”
They all laughed, especially Willoughby who then interjected, “I could run this state.”
Bill reached down to pet the handsome head. “How can anyone live without a dog? I couldn’t get up in the morning without this fellow.”
“Some people have no feeling for animals.” Cooper had certainly seen enough of that in her work.
“Speaking of that.” Bill picked up the striped shirt. “Can you believe Eddie Cunningham using his grandfather like that? Eddie’s doing a good job of whipping up the disaffected. I guess they need someone upon whom to blame their troubles.”
“It is shocking,” Harry agreed. “But, Bill, I suppose these are the times in which we live. It’s dog-eat-dog.”
“I resent that,” Willoughby barked.
Wednesday, October 6, 1784
The eastern side of the Blue Ridge Mountains glowed golden, then reddish, as the sun rose. At sunset the displays behind the range varied from a thin silver shine outlining the mountains to explosions of swirling scarlet, pink, lavender, gold, purple. Few people living within sight of these ancient mountains could resist being mesmerized by them. At sunrise, the mountains themselves change color as the sun, rising in the east, touches them.
Not yet nineteen, Jeddie fell under their spell. Sometimes, with a task completed, he’d sit on an upturned box, a hay bale, or the top of a fence and just stare. He thought about the horses, his desire to improve as a rider and a horseman. He was fascinated by breeding. One needed a powerful memory and for the last three years Jeddie studied every horse he saw, on the estate and off. He would recite their pedigrees the way some men recited John Milton. The more fun-loving recited Chaucer.
This morning, he led Serenissima through a heavy dew. She played wi
th him. She’d push him with her nose. He’d correct her. She’d push his shoulder. Then he’d turn her out. She’d fly away, stop abruptly, turn to thunder right toward him. Then she’d stop in front of him and smack her lips. The lip smack meant many things, and “I love you” was one of them.
He’d pull her lower lip, run his hands over her ears; he’d smack his lips, too. She repeated the running away, the return, and finally a big, big kiss as long as he would continue playing with her.
This morning they played for twenty minutes, the lovely early morning light softening everything.
Jeddie didn’t hear Catherine walk up behind him until Serenissima flicked her ears.
“Jeddie.”
He straightened up. “Yes, Miss Catherine.”
“She likes you best.”
Pleased, he tilted his head to the side for a second and Serenissima nuzzled his cheek. “I love her, Miss Catherine. I will sleep in her stall if she needs me. I will do anything you ask or she asks.” His ear-to-ear grin made Catherine grin back. “I knew you wouldn’t let Yancy Grant have her!”
Catherine held out her hand for the mare to sniff. “He knows horses, but he doesn’t care about them. It’s all money to Yancy.”
“Everyone around knows he offered Mrs. Selisse four thousand dollars for her.”
“That he did. I offered more and this morning I’m feeling poor.” She laughed. “Well, Mother left me some of her money. I expect she thought I would use it as I saw fit. If we breed her with care, I think we will establish one of the finest lines of blooded horses in the country.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Jeddie, there are fine horsemen all over. I find the northern breeders look for a longer angle on the hip. Here, I’ll show you.” She traced an elongated isosceles triangle on Serenissima’s hip. “They want carriage horses. More towns up there, and the estates are smaller. Soils not much in many of those states. A man with exceptional driving horses is a big bug. Here, more riding, running. But wherever breeders are, at least what I have observed, is they aren’t systematic.”
“Yes, ma’am. That’s why I’ve memorized the bloodlines you told me about.”
Catherine smiled at this young man. “Good. Now tell me, how is Crown Prince doing?”
“He can be ornery, but he’s quick to learn.”
“Queen Esther’s bloodline is.” She inhaled the air. “Doesn’t it smell and taste like fall?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Here come Binks and Ralston.”
The two younger boys reached the paddock.
Catherine teased one of them. “The sun came up, but you didn’t.”
Binks, twelve, looked stricken. “Miss Catherine, Momma said I had to sweep out the room.”
“Binks, that doesn’t take that long, but better not to get on the bad side of your momma. Jeddie and I will be back in a little while. But you have time to loosen up Sweet Potato, and Ralston, walk out King David.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Ralston liked King David, such a powerful fellow.
As Cooper and Jeddie walked toward the row of slave quarters, she said, “You’ve been wise, keeping quiet about Moses when he and DoRe brought the mare.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“If people knew what Moses had asked of me to save Ailee from Francisco, they might think all manner of things. Sometimes, Jeddie, I wonder what goes on in people’s heads. Not much that’s good, I fear.”
“Yes, ma’am. Too much loose talk.”
With piles of firewood neatly stacked by the front door, walkways swept, back gardens tended, and colorful flowers by porches, on windowsills, the cabins bore testimony to the artistic impulses of the inhabitants. The slaves didn’t have much, but they made the most of what they had. In particular, the women cared about their flowers. Serena grew huge mums. No one else could match her mums. They all tried. Her sight failing, Old Paulette nurtured her white and purple morning glories, which climbed around her porch posts.
Catherine loved the display. She did her best with her mother’s garden, but she lacked the touch.
Walking down the straight row of cabins brought back memories of her mother in rapt discussion about their flowers with other ladies, who had also departed. Catherine would stand next to her mother as theories abounded and once she remembered Paulette, straight as a stick then, getting worked up with the late Abby over the merits of acorn squash versus pattypan. Paulette was a pattypan devotee.
They reached the weaving cabin, the last in the row, close to the woodline.
Catherine opened the door, the big loom in the center of the large room.
“I like to hear the click-clack.” Jeddie noticed the rug on the loom, half finished.
“Me, too. A woman needs good hands and a good eye for this work. One mistake and you’ve ruined the pattern. Let’s go upstairs.”
The wooden boards reverberated as they climbed up.
“They finished this in jack time.” Jeddie admired the loft.
“Did. I wish they could have tapped into the chimney and built a fireplace up here. Maybe next year. That would take so much reinforcement and time. It’s always warmer up top so maybe winter won’t be so bad up here. Just go to bed with a well-stoked fire.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Catherine looked out the window. The place had real glass, not an oiled skin pulled up or down. At the back of the cabin, the newly built kitchen jutted out. They realized one couldn’t really cook close to the loom and the stored hemp, cotton, linen, and wool, all of which lay on their sides on square shelves downstairs and now upstairs. The large center fireplace in the large cabin also had a mesh screen, a luxury, again to make certain no embers escaped from a downdraft, given the flammable contents of the cabin.
The stairs reverberated again as the two descended. Catherine poked her head in the kitchen. That newly built brick fireplace had on each side huge hearth openings in which to place freshly baked bread. The bread stayed warm next to the flame yet protected from it.
Fireplaces and hearths demanded a careful sense of detail. Those slaves involved in carpentry, masonry, bricklaying, flue building, knew what they were doing. A few had such renown they could be identified by their brickwork or stone work.
Standing in the center of the main room, a cot at one end with a small bureau and table, Jeddie asked, “Is Mr. Ewing gonna make a glassworks?”
“My father resisted spending the money for the glass in this building. Now he thinks he can lure glassblowers here and build a furnace for them. He says if we have our own small forge, we should have our own glassblowers. I asked where he thought he would find them. He said he didn’t know but he would find them. That’s my father.”
Jeddie smiled. “Yes, ma’am.” He changed the subject. “When are John and Charles coming home?”
“Soon, I should think. They will be full of stories.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
As they walked back, the sun higher now, Catherine spoke. “Jeddie, Bumbee will move into the loom cabin. She knows everything about weaving and Bettina said she wasn’t getting along with Howard.”
Howard was Bumbee’s husband, a man with a roving eye. His body roved with it. Bumbee was in her late thirties, and possessed good sense as well as artistic talent. Her rugs, even shirt clothes, had a tight weave or a loose weave, whatever you needed. When asked how she found designs, especially for the rugs, she swore she would dream about them, wake up, and she had it.
The loft also had an outside stairway so one could come and go unnoticed. The woodline would provide cover for Ailee if she left the loft.
“Bumbee threw a pot at Howard yesterday.”
“Hit him?”
Jeddie laughed. “No.”
“Bet he ran like the devil.”
Jeddie laughed. “That man burnt the wind getting away from her.”
“I would, too.” Catherine laughed as well. “If you should see anything, you know, out of the way, down there, someone you don’t
know, go up the back stairs and warn them.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And keep the little ones out of there. There’s Sweet Potato.” Catherine put her hands on her hips. “Well, Binks, she hasn’t bucked you off.”
“No, Miss Catherine, not yet.”
Catherine looked at Jeddie. “Come on. I’ll race you to the stable. Let’s see who can tack up first.”
Jeddie won, but they rode out together, joining Binks and Ralston. Supposedly the four were working horses but really, they reveled in a gorgeous October morning.
—
That night was fog enshrouded and damp. Bettina and Father Gabe led Ailee out of the cave. Her blind side got scraped with limbs and bushes, but they made it to the loom room.
Father Gabe opened the door. Bumbee wasn’t moved in yet. The place, quiet, chilled to the bone. Father Gabe built a fire while Bettina, lighting her lantern now that they were inside, led Ailee up the stairs. Ailee studied the room. It was clean with a bit of color on the floor as Bumbee put down one of her red-and-yellow rugs. A small bed with a horsehair mattress covered in canvas was tucked in the corner. Bettina had made the bed with old sheets and two blankets. A pitcher, bowl, and water stood on the nightstand.
“Ailee, the men will carry up a bureau tomorrow. We’ll fill it with clothes. You’ll be able to keep warm. All will be well.”
Ailee nodded.
“If anyone comes that you don’t know, or you see a white man walking down the row and you don’t know him, you go out that door, out the stairs, and the woods are right there. There’s a narrow path, you can go as far down as you like. No one will see you go out. One of us will come and bring you back when all is safe.” Bettina liked the loft, liked being able to look out high. “I will visit you every day and Bumbee will cook until you can. God bless.” Bettina kissed her cheek.
Once alone, Ailee walked around, touching everything. Then she lay down on the bed, pulled up a blanket. The left side of her face still hurt.
What a good place this would be to live with Moses. She cried and cried, finally falling asleep.
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