Murder in the Marsh

by Sara Whitford

  “That’s terrible,” said Ben. “But why do you say it wouldn’t have anything to do with this?”

  “Just think about it,” said Adam. “She was attacked and dumped off. I don’t remember hearing that she was robbed. Anyway, she was just a servant girl—about my age, I think.”

  They all stood there contemplating the crime spree that was apparently taking place across the region.

  Finally, Ben said, “But think about it—maybe this is what happened: What if this here fella was the first victim? And those bandits had come from that way?” He swung his arms back in the direction of Beaufort, then back around to where they were standing. “They’d have got to him first. Then a couple days later they’d have made it up to where that husband and wife were attacked. And since they didn’t satisfy their lusts on that first woman, maybe they made it to New Bern and took that girl and attacked her. Who knows how far north they could be now?”

  “That makes right much sense,” said Martin.

  “I agree, mate,” said Jones. “But I just can’t believe this fella’s been out here in the marsh for more than two weeks already. There’d be nothing left!”

  “Wait a minute,” said Adam, “but who is this man? And if he was their first victim, why was he stabbed when the other fella just got knocked in the head? And on top of that, he doesn’t even look like he’s got anything to steal.”

  “Think, boy!” said Ben. “He don’t look like it now, but if he had anything to steal, don’t you reckon those bandits would’ve already taken it from him? How do you know they didn’t rob him, then kill him? Look at him. He ain’t even got a warm coat on. It’s near ’bout winter. Don’t you reckon he’d have been wearing more than this?”

  “That’s a good point,” said Martin. “And I reckon those bastards didn’t set out to kill the husband of that woman. Sounds like it just happened because he tried to protect his wife. Not to mention the whole reason they went after that pair in the first place was to rob them.”

  “Right, mate,” said Jones. “And don’t forget a couple of weeks ago the weather was a fair bit warmer. That’s when the two o’ you went to New Bern.”

  “Fine,” Adam said. “But we’re in the middle of nowhere. There’s no town nearby, no farms real close. Why would he have been out here in the first place?”

  “Hmm… Good point,” said Ben. He twisted up his face in contemplation and scratched at the stubble on his chin, then suddenly looked like he had an idea. “It could also be that this man was their partner.”

  The others wrinkled their brows and looked at him, waiting to hear what he’d say.

  Ben continued: “What if there were three of them to start off with, and then for some reason they got into a fight, and this one ended up with a knife in his chest?”

  The others looked skeptical. That seemed like quite a leap but still plausible.

  “These men are obviously criminals, right? They don’t follow the same rule book you or I would follow,” Ben said. “I think regardless of whether he was a victim of a robbery or their partner, all the pieces fit for this to have been the bandits’ first victim. I think we need to hurry up and get on back to town and let the constable know about this—get him to come out to investigate it.”

  “You’re right,” said Adam. “Truth is we have no idea who this man is or who did this—and it could have something to do with those highwaymen. I reckon the more pressing question right now is, what do we do with him now that we found him?”

  The four men all thought for a few seconds before Ben said, “We can’t really put him back in the boat and carry him to town in the condition he’s in. I think we ought to just give him a Christian burial right here as best we can.”

  “A Christian burial?” Martin chuckled. “Reverend Miller ain’t here. Who’s gonna give the sermon and all?”

  “Don’t be an idiot,” said Adam. “He just means we ought to bury the man and say a prayer for him.”

  “Bury him with what?” said Jones.

  “Yeah, we don’t even have a shovel,” Martin echoed Jones’s concern.

  “We need to figure somethin out, boys,” said Ben. “It’d be indecent to just leave the poor man out here to rot in the elements.”

  They all thought for a few seconds.

  Jones spoke up, “If we were at sea, we’d weigh his body down and sew him up, then gently drop him overboard.”

  “Of course you would,” said Ben, “but we ain’t got no weights, no shroud, no nothin to sink him down. Furthermore, you want to bundle this corpse up and put it on Mr. Rogers’s boat to carry it out to sea? ’Cause we sure can’t dump it here in Harlowe Creek.”

  “Fact of the matter is,” said Martin, “he’s already dumped out here in Harlowe Creek.”

  “That’s true,” said Adam. After a moment he said, “I think, given the circumstances, maybe we ought to just go on back to town and let the constable know what’s happened, and he can decide what to do with the body. He might want to inspect it or something.”

  “Fletcher’s right,” said Martin. “And anyway, I sure as hell don’t wanna anger his ghost by not doing the right thing in burying him, and I sure don’t wanna be campin out here with a bunch of spirits.”

  “Ahhh!” Ben waved dismissively at Martin. “Spirits? You outta your mind, boy! You don’t really believe that foolishness, do you?”

  “Damn right I do,” said Martin, standing his ground.

  Ben looked at Jones, who was nodding in agreement with Martin, at which point Ben shook his head in disbelief.

  “Don’t tell me you too?” said Ben, looking at Adam.

  Adam shrugged and smiled sheepishly. “I don’t know about ghosts or spirits, but I do know I don’t wanna stay out here tonight. Regardless of whether or not there are any spirits running around, there’s obviously a killer on the loose.”

  THE FOUR OF THEM ENDED up using their pocketknives to check the man’s pockets for personal items. Very curiously, the only thing they found was a silver pocket mirror. Ben picked it up and made a note of where they had found it in the journal they had brought, and he sketched a picture of it as well.

  Before they left to pack up their camp and go back to the boat, Ben suggested they leave everything else as it was so the constable could see the way they’d found the corpse.

  “We’re not turning him over again, though,” said Jones.

  “No, I don’t mean we need to turn him over,” said Ben. “I just think we ought to leave everything right now just like we found it, and then hurry on back. I reckon we can make it to Beaufort before dark if we don’t waste time.”

  The others agreed, and they all started walking back in the direction of the boat.

  Adam suddenly felt the need to go back and get the canteen, but he also thought it would be best not to say anything about it. He quickly came up with an idea of how to do it.

  When they all returned to the boat, Adam faked some stomach cramps.

  “You don’t look so good,” said Martin.

  Adam rubbed his hand over his belly and extended his back to show his “discomfort.”

  “You alright, mate?” said Jones.

  At first Adam nodded. He then quickly grabbed his satchel and jumped out of the boat and started running into the marsh.

  “Where you goin, Fletcher?” said Martin.

  “Where do you think?” Adam yelled in response.

  He kept running until he was out of sight, then crossed over to where the corpse lay. He quickly grabbed the canteen and stuffed it into his satchel. It made it way too bulky. He had too much in there, so he took the canteen out and rearranged things.

  He decided to leave behind his cup and plate, as well as most of the newspaper he had carried along in case nature really did call, and he folded the remaining bit of newspaper over the canteen and stuffed it into the satchel.

  When he returned to the boat, he feigned great relief over having relieved himse
lf, and the other three were none the wiser to what he had done.

  Chapter Seventeen

  THANKFULLY, THE SAME WINDS THAT had brutally beaten against their faces on the way to Harlowe Creek were at their backs on the return trip. It took them under two hours to bring the periauger back to the public dock to let Ben out before the other three returned to the warehouse.

  “I don’t reckon Emmanuel will pay us everything yet for the survey, since we didn’t get to finish,” said Adam, “but as soon as we have the money, we’ll get you your part.”

  Ben looked a little frustrated, but he nodded. “I understand. Things sure turned out strange today, didn’t they?”

  Martin inhaled sharply and sighed. “Yes, they surely did.” He thought for a second, then said, “You know what? I’ll just go ahead and pay you your part for this. I’ll worry about getting paid from Emmanuel later. I feel like this is sort of my fault anyway that you had to come with us instead of Ed Willis. He ain’t really used to knockin as many back as me and Jones.”

  Ben shook his head. “Naw, that’s not necessary. You can just square up with me later.”

  Martin held out a few coins. “No, you go on and take these. A worker’s worth his wages.”

  Ben smiled humbly and nodded his head in gratitude. “I do appreciate it.”

  He shook Martin’s hand, then Adam’s and Jones’s, then climbed out of the boat and scurried back over to the tavern.

  Adam and the others were docking at the warehouse just moments later, but no one was working inside.

  “Damn Boaz!” said Martin. “And all that fuss he made today about needin to work on those barrels!”

  He and Adam and Jones didn’t bother unloading the boat, but Adam did bring his satchel inside.

  They all three went upstairs to the living quarters, where they found Emmanuel and Boaz sitting at the table in a somber mood.

  “What’s going on here?” asked Adam.

  “You all are already back?” Emmanuel said softly. “Did they tell you?”

  The three wore puzzled expressions and looked at each other.

  “Tell us what?” Adam asked.

  “You haven’t heard?” said Boaz. “Then why are y’all back?”

  Adam crossed the room and pulled up a chair at the table. Martin and Jones followed suit.

  “Ed Willis is dead,” said Emmanuel.

  No one said a thing.

  This can’t be happening, thought Adam. This really can’t be happening.

  “Not long after y’all left this morning, I sent Elliot over to wake Ed up… get him over here … ’cause of not bein here when y’all left to go do that survey.”

  Boaz took a deep breath. He looked like he was struggling to string his thoughts together into complete sentences.

  “There weren’t no answer at Ed’s house. Elliot figured he must be passed out real good, so he went around the back—you know, ’cause the room he sleeps in is on that side of the house—he looked in the window, and Elliot weren’t in his room.”

  “Where was he?” asked Martin.

  “He went back ’round to the front door,” said Boaz. “He tried to open it and it was unlocked, so he went on inside. Elliot was laying right there on the floor near his table, dead.”

  “Oh God!” said Martin.

  “What happened?” said Adam.

  Boaz started to answer, but it was apparent he was getting choked up, because he swallowed hard.

  In a quiet voice Emmanuel said, “He had been stabbed here.” Emmanuel made a stabbing motion against the top left part of his chest. “Elliot found him in a pool of his own blood.”

  “No,” said Jones. He drew his head back in suspicion, then gave a little laugh. “What are you two on about? This must be some kind of joke… Ain’t it?”

  Emmanuel shook his head slowly. “I wish it were, Jones. I truly wish it were.”

  “What the hell?” said Martin. “Who would kill Ed Willis? He don’t even do nothin bad! He’s always been such a nice fella. He don’t even get into half the wild mess that Jones and I do.”

  Emmanuel folded one hand on top of the other on the table. “We do not know exactly what happened, but we do know there were some cards on his table, and some had been knocked on the floor. One might say it looks as if he was gambling and his opponent robbed him for his winnings.”

  “How much winnings could he have had?” said Martin. “Ed Willis ain’t exactly rich!”

  Through all of this Adam couldn’t think of a single thing to say. He was too busy thinking about how it was Ed Willis in Havana who had, without hesitation, gone into Eduardo’s fortress with him to try and rescue Martin, Santiago, and Drake. It was Ed Willis who had driven the horse cart that gave him and his father a getaway from that place. And it was Ed Willis who had told him what he’d need to do to stop his father’s bleeding, and even gave him his own belt to fasten around Santiago’s arm.

  Ed Willis had only met him for the first time on that trip to Havana, and yet he never hesitated to try and help him—or anyone who needed help—however he could. Of all people, why did this happen to him?

  While they all sat there in silence, Adam was sure that Martin and Jones were wondering the same thing he was: When do we tell them about what we found in the marsh?

  He didn’t have to wonder long. Boaz came back to his earlier question.

  “If y’all hadn’t already heard about Ed Willis, then why are you already back?”

  Jones looked down at the table. Martin looked at Adam. Finally, Adam realized he would have to be the one to provide an answer.

  “We found something out in the marsh. We thought we better let the constable know.”

  Emmanuel wrinkled his brow. “What was it?”

  “A body. It was a man. He’d been stabbed, too,” said Adam. “In the chest, but down here.” He tapped his chest just below his sternum.

  “Did it look like it happened recently?” asked Emmanuel.

  “We don’t think so,” said Adam.

  “Maybe a week or so ago,” said Martin. “Who knows?”

  They spent the next twenty minutes telling Emmanuel and Boaz about everything that happened and what they saw.

  Emmanuel let out a soul-weary sigh. “Yes, the constable should know, but I need to rest first. I don’t think I’m quite up for seeing anybody else just now.”

  He got up from the table and slowly made his way over to his room and closed the door.

  Adam felt so sorry for his grandfather. He knew not only was he grieving over this recent tragedy but also that he was physically suffering with the worsening pain from his arthritis. It occurred to him Emmanuel might be so upset that he wouldn’t bother with the fire that heated his room, so Adam quietly got up and went over to the room to tend to that for him and left the others talking at the table in the sitting room.

  Chapter Eighteen

  ON TUESDAY MORNING NO ONE was quite sure what they should be doing. Adam, Martin, and Jones had thought they’d be out surveying, but those plans obviously changed. Boaz, Elliot, and Joe had thought they’d be working in the warehouse—with Ed Willis—on the barrels for the Martin estate, but that also wasn’t happening, since Elliot and Joe had gone up to Portsmouth Island to inform his family of his death.

  Adam was always the last one to wake up—and it was usually because of hearing Boaz and Emmanuel shuffling around. When he realized he’d slept in until eight o’clock, he was alarmed. It took a few seconds for the fog to clear out of his brain enough for him to remember the events of the previous day. Then he was even more worried. Emmanuel never did go see the constable the night before—in fact, he never came out of his room. And it wasn’t like Boaz to let him sleep in.

  He quickly threw off the covers and got up out of bed. He went out of his room, through Boaz’s room and the kitchen, and then he saw Boaz at the table, writing something on a piece of paper.

  “Where’s Emmanuel?” A
dam asked.

  “Still in bed,” said Boaz.

  “Is he alright?”

  Boaz shrugged but was still looking down at the paper in front of him. “Can’t really say. Haven’t been able to talk to him.”

  “But you’ve checked on him, right?”

  Boaz looked up, annoyed. “Of course. He ain’t dead or anything. He just don’t feel like gettin up, I reckon.”

  Adam narrowed his eyes in frustration at Boaz and strode across the sitting area towards Emmanuel’s room. He gave the heavy oak door a light knock, but there was no answer. He slowly pushed the door open and peered into the room.

  “Emmanuel?”

  His grandfather made no answer. He was lying on his side, wrapped up tightly in his covers. Adam quietly entered the room and approached his bed.

  He lightly tapped Emmanuel on the shoulder. “Emmanuel.”

  Finally, the old man stirred a little bit. He opened his eyes and saw Adam standing in front of him.

  “Are you alright?” asked Adam.

  “Adam.” Emmanuel reached his arm across his body and took hold of his grandson’s hand. “Son, will you please prepare me a cup of willow bark tea?”

  “Of course,” said Adam. “Can I bring you anything else?”

  “Is there anything to eat?”

  Adam shrugged. “I don’t even know. As soon as I woke up and saw you weren’t up yet, I came right in here. I can fix you something, though.”

  Emmanuel gave him a weak smile. “Thank you, son. Any simple thing would be fine.”

  “Are you hurting really bad?”

  Emmanuel gave a slight nod. Adam could see that it was difficult for him to move his head. “The pain in my back is nearly unbearable.”

  “I’ll go fix you something to eat and some of that tea. I’ll be back in just a little bit.”

  As Adam started to leave the room, Emmanuel called out to him.

  “Oh, Adam, one more thing. Please tell Boaz he must go see his cousin. I was too poorly to get out last night, and I’m afraid my condition isn’t much improved today.”