A March to Remember

by Anna Loan-Wilsey

  “The police should be here soon. Hopefully they’ll catch the vile snake and at least find some justice for her,” Billy said.

  Jasper, watching the carp rise to the surface, scoffed. “You’re too idealistic, Billy. The police bring justice? Ha!”

  “You’re too cynical, Jasper Neely.”

  “Mark my words, Billy,” Jasper Neely said. “It will never happen. If you leave finding justice to the police, you’ll wait until the end of your days.”

  “At least they’ll be able to get her out of there,” Billy said.

  The police? In my shock I hadn’t given the command Billy had barked to his driver another thought. I’d set out this morning to hike and maybe collect some plant specimens. But now, flanked by two strangers, one drenched from his foray into the pond in search of a dead woman, the other decrying the police, the implications were beginning to set in.

  Oh, no! Not again!

  * * *

  “Shouldn’t we be getting back?” Jasper Neely said, after silently watching me pace as we waited for the arrival of the police. “The police don’t need or want us here.”

  “You can go, but I’m staying here,” Billy said.

  “We don’t know anything. Why stay?” was Jasper’s reply.

  “If you don’t know anything, why are you so eager to go?”

  “Okay, fine. I’ll stay.”

  “Un, deux, trois . . .” I counted in French, as the two men argued, trying to keep myself calm.

  I couldn’t believe I was entangled in yet another police affair. I’d had no cause to be in contact with the police for over nine months. I’d begun to hope that I would never have to speak to a policeman ever again, that the unfortunate incidents I’d been party to were happily in the past. However understanding Walter was, he would not appreciate his future wife being continuously entangled in police business. From now on, the only dead bodies I anticipated seeing would be unfortunate loved ones passing away from sickness or “old age.” I deplored being involved with another crime.

  “Quatre, cinq, six . . . Oh!”

  I nearly tripped on something. I picked it up.

  “What’s that you got there?” Billy said, approaching me. I showed him.

  It was a lamp from the carriage, now mangled with its glass shattered on the ground, which must have snapped off as the horse dragged the trap away. I shuddered to think what would have happened had the horse, with the carriage still attached, fallen into the water.

  “Where is the horse?” I said.

  Could it still be wandering about with a shattered trap attached to it? Had it broken free? Was it even now nibbling on the green grass of the White House lawn? Or did it find its way home?

  “We never saw it,” Billy said. “I suspect a stray horse without a rider, especially one with part of a trap still attached to him, will not go unnoticed.”

  “So the police will find it?” I said.

  “Yes, I’m sure it will be fine. Got spooked, obviously, but no harm done to it in the end.”

  Unlike the poor woman, I thought.

  “Then they’ll be able to figure out who the man who deserted the woman is,” I said, “when they find his horse?”

  “Assuming it was his horse, and he didn’t hire the trap,” Jasper Neely said. “Then maybe.”

  “Why maybe?” My family never owned a horse, living above my father’s hat store as we did. When we wanted to go somewhere the train or stagecoach couldn’t take us, my father hired a team and buggy. Otherwise we walked everywhere. So I was well accustomed to knowing which boots to buy that would hold up and be comfortable to hike in, but I knew nothing of owning, tending, or identifying a horse.

  “I doubt he’ll come forward looking for it,” Billy said.

  “But who would abandon a horse?” I said, the irony of my words apparent the moment I spoke them. Billy didn’t miss it either.

  “A man who would abandon a woman to her death,” he said.

  “But horses are valuable property.”

  “Yes, but if he’s rich, he can afford to buy another, and if he’s poor, he can’t afford to claim it.”

  “But can’t the police track down the owner?”

  “Like I said, maybe,” Jasper said.

  “I see.” I looked at the lamp again and noticed a small carriage bolt lying not far away on the ground.

  What else is here? These things were indistinguishable from any number of carriages. But could I find something that could help the police identify the man who had run away?

  Not finding any more pieces of the carriage in the direct path the carriage took, I began to survey the area, starting with the spot where the lamp lay and slowly circling outward.

  “What are you doing?” Billy asked.

  “Looking,” I said.

  “For what?”

  “I don’t know yet.” Billy scratched his wet head but didn’t take his eyes off me.

  I found a piece of metal, which I had no idea its purpose, a few yards away but little else until I came to the area where the man had climbed back onto shore. Slightly embedded in the soil were two finely etched pearl dress buttons, with frayed black silk thread still attached. Could these have come from the man’s shirt or vest? If so, these were the only evidence, the only link to the man who had abandoned this poor woman to her fate.

  “Did you find something?” Billy shouted.

  “Yes.” I looked about and saw nothing more so I carried my find to where the men stood waiting.

  “What is it?”

  “Buttons.” I held them out so they could examine them. “They could’ve belonged to the man.” Anyone could have lost them at any time, but it would be a great coincidence if someone else had lost them in the exact spot where the man had left the water. And I don’t believe in such coincidences.

  “Yes, they’re definitely from a wealthy man’s vest, but not much to go by,” Billy said. “The only distinguishing marks are the geometric etchings. They would never prove who the man was, what he was doing here, or that he’d left a woman to drown.”

  “You’re right,” I said. “But I’ll give them to the police just in case.”

  Jasper snorted in disgust. “Why? It won’t do any good.”

  “It might,” Billy said. “You never know what will bring justice to that poor woman.”

  I reflected back on all the murders and crimes I’d had the unfortunate opportunity to be a part of. There had been stranger and smaller things than these buttons that had brought about justice.

  “You’re right, Billy,” I said. “You never know.”

  CHAPTER 8

  “So you witnessed the horse bolt and the passengers go into the water?” the policeman said.

  “No, when I arrived the horse and trap were long gone,” Billy replied.

  “The lady saw everything.” Jasper Neely pointed to me. With a lap robe the police had given me wrapped about me, I’d been watching the two policemen in black rubber coats and rubber wading pants as they dragged a heavy fishing net along the bottom of the pond. So far they hadn’t had any more luck finding the woman’s body than Billy had.

  “So you witnessed folks go into the water?” the policeman said to me.

  “Yes.”

  “All right then, ma’am.” He licked the end of his pencil and was poised to write what I said in his notebook. “Tell me everything you saw.” So I did, from the reckless driver to the woman’s shocking behavior, the horrible crash, the horse’s escape, and the man’s flight toward the Mall.

  “So you got a good look at the man and the woman?”

  “No. At first the man’s face was obscured by his scarf blowing across it. The scarf must’ve blocked his sight as well. And then he had his back to me.”

  “And the woman?” the policeman said. I hesitated. I had a good idea who the woman was, but how could I admit that I knew her?

  “I could identify the dress she was wearing,” I said. “It was the strangest-colored ensemble, and she cl
early had blond hair, since she wasn’t wearing a hat.”

  “Did you get a look at her face?”

  What was I to say? That she was too far away, which was true, but that I could guess what she looked like, having seen her twice before?

  “Sir!” one of the men dredging the pond shouted, cutting off any answer from me. We all turned to see the policeman carrying the dead weight of a body in his arms. We rushed to the shore and met him as the policeman set the body on dry ground. It was covered from head to toe with green algae.

  “Is she dead?” Billy asked, his eyes wide with interest. From the pallor of her skin and her complete stillness, it was hard to believe otherwise. The policeman in charge knelt beside her and placed his fingers on the woman’s wrist as I’d seen Walter do countless times before. The policeman nodded.

  “She’s dead.”

  “May I?” I pointed to her dress wrapped high about her bare thighs. He nodded, and I pulled her skirt down to cover her weed-tangled legs.

  “So, do you recognize the dress?” the policeman said.

  “Yes, this is what the woman in the trap was wearing.” The policeman nodded. I regarded the dress again and wondered what had possessed the woman to match crimson with yellow and lavender. Even without the added green of the algae, it was the most garish dress I’d ever seen.

  “Do you know who she is?” I said, still kneeling beside her.

  “Well, there doesn’t seem to be anything on her to identify her by name, but at least we know where to find her kind. She’s sure to be missed tonight.”

  “What do mean?” I asked.

  “You’re a lady, madam. This one”—he pointed to the dead woman at his feet—“is no lady, if you catch my meaning.”

  “It’s still despicable,” Billy said, spitting out the words. “The man with her didn’t even attempt to help this fallen creature?”

  “No, not at all.”

  “Like I said, despicable.”

  “Some men don’t put too much value on the likes of her,” the policeman said as he brushed back the hair and weeds from her face.

  “It is her!” I exclaimed. I couldn’t believe I’d said it out loud. “I know her,” I said, glancing at the men, who were as surprised as I was.

  “You do?” all three men said simultaneously.

  “She came into Hutchinson’s Ladies’ Furnishings on Pennsylvania Avenue yesterday when I was shopping. She was wearing the same dress. You don’t forget someone like that.” I watched as they picked up the woman’s body and carried it to the wagon.

  “Hutchinson’s, huh? Well, that’s not too far from Hooker’s Division. Thanks. We’ll start there, though I can tell you I’m not looking forward to going door-to-door asking who’s missing a whore. Pardon me,” the policeman added when Billy glared at him.

  “No need, officer,” Billy said. “We too know this girl.”

  Jasper Neely was holding his hat in his hand and nodded. “It’s Annie.”

  “Annie?” the policeman said.

  “She’s one of Lottie Fox’s girls,” Billy said.

  “We just saw her last night,” Jasper Neely said in disbelief.

  “So you were at Lottie Fox’s place last night, were you?” the policeman said.

  This time I took a deliberate step back from Jasper Neely and Billy. I said nothing, but my reproach must have been evident on my face.

  Billy said, looking at me, not the policeman, “It’s not what you think.”

  Jasper Neely laughed. “Of course it’s what she thinks.”

  “Okay, maybe we did enjoy the company of Lottie’s ladies. But we wouldn’t have been there at all if we weren’t sent on Marshal Browne’s business.”

  Marshal Browne? How could the co-leader of Coxey’s Army have anything to do with this?

  “You some of them Coxey’s marchers?” the officer said. He glanced over at the wagon that had led him here. The driver nodded, pointing to the banner draped along its side.

  “That’s right,” Jasper said. “We came into town last night to run some errands on behalf of the Commonweal. And enjoy the fruits of our labor.”

  “We went to Lottie’s on Marshal Browne’s behalf,” Billy said, still addressing me. “She’s a follower of the marshal’s ‘Christ’s soul is in many of us’ preaching and had something she wanted to give him.”

  “And what would that be?” the officer asked, chuckling. “Or can’t you say in front of the lady?”

  Jasper Neely pulled out a small purse. He opened it for the policeman to inspect.

  “A donation,” Billy said. “When you’re starving, you can’t reject any offer to feed your lot.”

  “How do I know this isn’t stolen?” the policeman said.

  “You can always ask Lottie Fox,” Jasper Neely said. The policeman dismissed this with a wave of his hand.

  “All right then. Did you happen to get a look at who this Annie was with last night?”

  “No, she said hello, that’s all,” Jasper said. “We were otherwise occupied.” The policeman chuckled and then blushed when he saw the disapproval on my face.

  “Pretty happy she was, though,” Billy added. “Said she had made it big.”

  “Rich customer, then,” the officer concluded.

  “That’s what we thought.”

  “Could be anyone in this town.”

  “Not just anyone,” I said. “Annie had mentioned a powerful man at the store, one who was going to make her respectable.”

  Had that powerful man been the driver who abandoned her? I wondered.

  “That narrows it down a little bit,” the policeman said skeptically. “Lots of rich and powerful men around here, if he was who he said he was. Lots of pretenders in this town too, you know.”

  “These might help.” I held out the fancy pearl dress buttons. He looked at the small objects dubiously. “I found these where the man came ashore. If finding his horse doesn’t help identify the man who did this, perhaps these will.” I handed them to him.

  “Thank you, ma’am,” the policeman said. He pocketed the buttons, glanced around, and said, “I think we’re finished here.”

  Before I could offer my name and my residence in case he wished to speak to me again, he strode away. He leaped onto the back of the patrol wagon, banged on the door to alert the driver, and drove away.

  “Are you going to be all right?” Billy said. “You’ve had a shock. Not every day you see a dead body.”

  In a more appropriate time and place, I might’ve laughed. If only he knew how many dead bodies I’d seen of late and in far more horrific scenes than this one.

  “Yes, thank you. I’m fine.” I handed Jasper back his jacket.

  “Then we’ll bid you good day.” Billy tipped his hatless head. Jasper Neely touched the brim of his hat. “May we meet again,” Billy said.

  I hope not, I thought, but didn’t say as the two men climbed back into their wagon and drove away.

  I stayed, alone, staring at the point where Annie had entered the water. A large carp skimmed the surface of the water, and I shuddered. I had no interest in the fish now. I was distressed by the poor woman’s death, but I was equally troubled about the man. By recklessly driving the carriage and causing the horse to bolt and then leaving his companion to drown, he had indirectly caused her death.

  “But who would do such a thing?” I whispered to myself. Could the Coxeyites, Billy and Jasper Neely, be trusted? Did they truly not know who Annie was with? After all I’d heard about the marching men, I had no idea. And of course, Billy and Jasper Neely weren’t the only ones to have been to Lottie Fox’s establishment recently, or who knew Annie by name, including a journalist I knew. What would Sir Arthur do if his friend was involved? What would Sir Arthur think when he found out I had witnessed the whole thing?

  Please let me get his blessing first, I thought, knowing how unlikely that would be.

  CHAPTER 9

  “Halt!”

  After returning to the Smith
house in Lafayette Square and changing into drier, more suitable clothes and shoes, I proceeded to the Treasury Building for my day’s work.

  After I had climbed the steps of the Treasury Building and crossed under the shadow of its towering granite columns, a large, burly policeman with a long, drooping mustache stepped in front of me, barring my way to the door.

  “Halt,” he shouted again, though we were only a few feet apart. I did as I was told, one foot on the top step. “State your business here.”

  He began tapping his club in the open palm of his left hand. I hesitated, staring at the club as it rose and fell into the man’s hand.

  “State your business,” he repeated, taking a step closer.

  “I’m expected,” I said. “I’m researching miscellaneous Civil War records stored here. Here. I have a letter of introduction.” I pulled out the letter Senator Smith had written so as to give me access to the Index to Property Destroyed by Confederate Authorities and that which was Destroyed by the Enemy, of which Sir Arthur had requested I make a copy.

  The policeman, ignoring the letter I thrust out toward him, never took his eyes off me. “The Treasury is locked. No one from the public is to be admitted.”

  “Why?”

  The man ignored my question. “Please leave the area.”

  “Will it be open tomorrow?”

  “I must insist you leave the area now.” He took a step closer while continuing to tap his club in his hand.

  I didn’t need to be told again. I scurried back down the stairs and took the corner quickly, only slowing when I was out of the policeman’s sight. And then I saw another pacing along the eastern side of the building.

  What’s going on? I wondered. And then I remembered the conversation I’d overheard in the White House. Could they have locked the building because of Coxey’s Army? I needed to know.

  I approached the second policeman, who was younger than his counterpart and wasn’t holding a club in his hand, hoping for better luck.

  “Excuse me, ma’am, you’ll have to leave the area,” he said when I was fewer than ten feet away.

  “Yes, I know. The brusque policeman at the front door informed me in no uncertain terms.”