Murder in the Marsh

by Sara Whitford

  Adam presented his query regarding the initials RJ. He asked if there had been any notices in the paper in recent weeks, or even months, about anyone with those initials. Thomas said he could thumb through as many issues as they had on hand and look at papers that they had from other colonies as well. Adam and Martin offered to help, and Thomas agreed.

  Thomas showed them into the back room, where Mr. Davis kept back issues of all of the papers he had printed. He explained that they were in chronological order in sets of filing cabinets that each had two columns of twelve wide, short drawers, each no deeper than four inches from top to bottom. There were two months’ worth of papers in each drawer, starting with January and February in the top drawer, then March and April, and so on. All together there were four years’ worth of newspapers in each cabinet. The paper was only printed weekly, so that only added up to eight newspapers per drawer for two months. Each paper consisted of no more than four folded sheets, or eight pages total, so the drawers weren’t even packed tight.

  They decided to only go through the last six months, which meant each of them could take a drawer and be done in short order. Adam took early December and November, Martin took October and September, and Thomas took July and August.

  The job went even quicker than they had expected, considering that most papers were only six or eight pages, and the first four or five were often focused on official public announcements and that sort of news, along with serials. They were able to quickly scan the back pages for any sort of local news.

  They mostly just found lots of items about merchant shipments available for sale, rewards for the apprehension of runaway slaves, horses that wandered off, or stolen household items, and of course the occasional stories about local crimes. None of them fit the RJ initials profile until Martin found something from late October. It was a notice from Beaufort County that said:

  BATH, October 12.

  By an authentic account from Bath, the perpetrator of the horrid murder and robbery committed there sometime ago, as mentioned in this paper, is discovered, and proves to be Mr. Henry Paxon himself, the owner of the store that was robbed, who is now in gaol, and is soon to take his trial for that atrocious crime. Most of the goods were the property of several persons, and were found buried near Mr. Paxon’s own carriage house, and the linens and other perishable articles were mostly spoiled. When we consider Mr. Paxon as a gentleman who had long lived at Bath in the character of a worthy member of society, and a man of property, we shall be much at a loss to account for his inducement to murder his storekeeper, and rob the store. Surely something more than avarice must have tempted him to violate the sacred tie of friendship and so daringly offend against his God and his conscience. Although Mr. Paxon has not proven himself to be a reliable witness, in that his schemes have consisted of an elaborate effort to conceal his evil deeds, he has said he had two accomplices, whose role in the plot was to extract the goods from their buried location and sell them south of here for cash in hand. If his tale has any truth to it, certainly only Divine Providence can be credited for causing those men to fail in their appointed task so that Paxon’s villainy might be uncovered. If such accomplices do exist, we are told they are brothers called Harmon and Reuben Jones.

  “HARMON AND REUBEN JONES,” SAID Martin. “Rueben Jones, RJ—y’all reckon this might be who we’re lookin for?”

  “Let me read that,” said Adam. He quickly skimmed through the piece of news from Bath and nodded with interest. “Sure seems like it could be. This definitely has to do with a robbery.”

  “You could find out for sure,” said Thomas, “but you’d probably need to go to Bath and talk to that Paxon fellow.”

  Martin took an exasperated breath. “Bath! There’s no way we’re goin all the way up there—at least not on this trip. That’s a full day’s journey from here, and even farther from Beaufort. We need to get back home before we go anywhere else, and it’s too cold to be going all over Hell and Creation.”

  Adam nodded in agreement. “He’s right. We’re going to have to leave here tomorrow, or the next day at the very latest. Isn’t there a post rider or anybody who regularly goes up that way?”

  Thomas thought about it for a minute. “You know, there’s a county justice by the name of Mr. Bryan from over in Swift Creek. He’s here in town a few days at a time near about every week right now, and Swift Creek is less than twenty miles from here and about another twenty miles or so from the Pamlico River. If you can catch him here before he leaves town to go back home tomorrow, you can talk to him and see if he doesn’t have anyone he could send to talk to this Mr. Paxon at the gaol there. He might be able to find out by Sunday, then bring word back here when he’s back in town next week.”

  Adam and Martin exchanged glances.

  “Sounds like a good plan to me,” said Martin. “Where would we find this Justice Bryan now? He’s down at the courthouse?”

  “He might be,” said Thomas, looking at the clock. “Then again it’s getting late. If he’s not there, he has a house over on the corner of Johnson and Middle Streets. It’s a modest-sized lot with a big, old pecan tree in the front yard.”

  “Fine,” said Adam. “We’ll go try to find him now. We appreciate all your help.”

  “My pleasure,” said Thomas. “If there’s anything else we can do for you here at the Gazette, just stop by.”

  When they left the newspaper, Martin admitted to Adam that he was having a lot of discomfort and thought they should go back to the house and wait and see Mr. Bryan the next morning. Adam at first suggested Martin go on back to the estate by himself, but then he realized Martin was dependent on his help to get him there.

  They climbed into the mule cart, and Adam drove them back to the house. Martin went right upstairs and didn’t even have supper. Adam made it a point, however, to ensure he had plenty of hot water for making the tea he was supposed to drink, and plenty of beer to keep his kidneys flushed.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  THE NEXT MORNING ADAM GOT an early start. He wanted to make sure to find Justice Bryan before he returned to Swift Creek.

  “’Scuse me, Mr. Adam.”

  He was startled in the scullery as he kneeled down to move the kettle over the fire to boil water. Aunt Celie was standing behind him, wringing her hands nervously in front of her apron.

  “Aunt Celie,” said Adam as he stood and turned around to face her. “Are you doing alright this morning?”

  “Well, sir, I just as soon you’d take me back with y’all when you go home tomorra, if that’s alright.”

  Though she held a serious face before him now, she looked like she had been crying.

  “Of course. That’s just fine.”

  Adam put his hand on her shoulder and motioned that she could have a seat with him at the butcher block table in the center of the room if she wanted. It was something he thought nothing of doing, but he could immediately tell Aunt Celie was unaccustomed to such an invitation. He proceeded to tear a piece of bread off of the loaf in front of him and slather it generously with butter, then took a bite.

  Aunt Celie would not sit down. “What time’ll y’all be leavin, so I can have my things ready?”

  Adam finished chewing. “I reckon we’ll leave as soon as the sun comes up. Are you sure you don’t want to stay here with Charles Jr.? It’s not like you get to see him all the time.”

  The old woman shook her head. “Naw. I don’t ’spect he really even wantin me here, with that young girl of his and all. I reckon I jess in the way.”

  “Won’t you sit down with me?” said Adam. “I’d rather not have to eat alone.”

  She seemed uneasy about it, and Adam could tell.

  “It’s alright, Aunt Celie. Nobody’s here but you and me. Martin’s dead to the world upstairs right now.”

  Finally, she pulled the chair out and sat down in the chair beside him.

  “Want me to fix you somethin else to eat, Mr. Adam?” she as
ked.

  He shook his head. “No, this bread is so good. You made this, didn’t you?”

  She nodded.

  “I can tell,” he said. “I don’t know anybody who can fix bread like this. It’s so light and airy on the inside, but the outside is so nice and crisp.”

  Aunt Celie looked down at the floor, but Adam could see she had a little smile on her face.

  “Tell me something,” he said to her. “What makes you think Charles Jr. doesn’t want you here just because of Annabelle?”

  The old woman was pensive. Adam knew she was reluctant to engage in conversation with him. Still, he was determined to get her to talk. He thought all of this protocol was foolish, especially with nobody else around to see them sitting at the table together.

  “I’m asking you,” said Adam, “because I have a mama, too, and I know if I didn’t get to see her that often I’d sure not want her to run off just because I have a young bride or a fiancée.”

  “Oh, child,” she said, “things’s diff’rent with us and with y’all. Things even mo diff’rent with Charles Jr. and me.”

  “Why do you say that?” Adam asked.

  “Well”—she thought for a moment—“’cause he wantin to be free, but you see, I know, I know freedom ain’t gon’ be nothin in the world but a whole mess a trouble. He don’t wanna belong to nobody—not even good white folks like these Martins. He say he wantin to be his own man. So he ain’t gon’ belong nowhere. And I can’t tell him nothin, ’cause he ain’t wantin to listen to nothin I say anyway. Ain’t no white folks gon’ care nothin for him or that haughty yella girl of his like this family here do.”

  Adam really had no idea what to say to any of that. “I’m a freeman, and I’ve obviously never been in your situation—as a slave, I mean—but I don’t know what that has to do with you being his mama and him being your son. You sure you don’t want to stay here at least until after Christmas? Laney’s doing just fine, you know.”

  “What’s she eatin?” said Aunt Celie. “’Cause I know that baby girl sho don’t know how to cook. I reckon all them youngins is near ’bout to starve to death, since I ain’t there cookin’ for ’em.”

  Adam cocked his head to the side. “Well, she’s learning. I had some of her cooking the other day. It wasn’t that bad, actually.”

  Aunt Celie wrinkled her brow in a cross between skepticism and curiosity. “What’d she fix?”

  “Grits and bacon.”

  “Lawd have mercy! She gon’ think she really doin somethin now.”

  “Come on now, Aunt Celie!” Adam smiled broadly. “She knows she’ll never be able to cook like you, but she’s still trying to learn a few things.”

  “Hmph.” Aunt Celie put her hand over her mouth to cover the fact that she was laughing a little bit.

  “Listen,” said Adam, “if you really want me and Martin to carry you back to Beaufort, we will, but just give it some thought and talk to Charles Jr. about it first.”

  “Fine,” she said. She then stood from her chair. “Now you sure I can’t get you nothin else to eat, Mr. Adam?”

  “No, ma’am,” he said. “I actually need to go run down to the courthouse. I’ve got to see a man about something. Martin isn’t feeling well, but if he comes downstairs, will you let him know I’ll be back directly?”

  “Yessir, I will,” she said, then disappeared into the kitchen.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  WHEN ADAM ARRIVED AT THE courthouse, he saw things exactly as they had been every other time he had been in town—under construction. It seemed efforts to build a new and improved courthouse and prison were never-ending in the capital city, and Adam couldn’t help but wonder what was taking them so long to finish the job. Nevertheless, justices held court in the building in spite of its unfinished state, as it was preferable to the private homes or taverns they had been forced to conduct official business in for many years prior.

  It turned out to be easier than he had expected to track down Mr. Bryan. The justice was in his chambers, reading over some papers, when Adam arrived. Adam wasted no time explaining the purpose of his visit, including all of the information that he had learned in recent days and his hope that the justice would assist them in seeking information from the prisoner in Bath.

  “It’s a good thing you came when you did,” said Justice Bryan. “I’ll be leaving here to go back home to Swift Creek within the hour.”

  “Do you think you’ll be able to get these answers from Mr. Paxon before you come back to New Bern next week?” Adam asked.

  “I’ll certainly try, but of course it will depend entirely on the weather.”

  “I understand.”

  “You know, young man, you and your friend might as well sail directly to Bath. You can easily be there by tomorrow morning if you leave now.”

  Adam considered what he said.

  “It’ll only add one more day to your trip. In fact, it probably would take you fellows the same amount of time to get from Bath to Beaufort as it would from New Bern.”

  “Hmm… Really?” Adam wrinkled his brow. “That’s not too bad, then. For some reason, I thought Bath was right much farther from Beaufort than New Bern is.”

  Justice Bryan nodded. “No, sir. It may even be a tiny bit closer. Still, if you’re going to do that, y’all need to get on out of here. Otherwise, you won’t make it to the Pamlico Sound before dark.”

  Adam pulled out his pocket watch and looked at the time. It was nine o’clock. He needed to make a decision, and fast. He didn’t want to send Justice Bryan home thinking he needed to have a man go out to Bath to talk to this Paxon fellow, but he also wasn’t sure what Martin would say about going straight to Bath. He decided they’d have to risk it. He would go back to the estate and let Martin know that they would have to go to Bath, no arguments. He’d let Aunt Celie know where they were going, so if she wanted a ride back to Beaufort with them, she’d have to come along, because they certainly wouldn’t be going back to New Bern again—at least not on this trip.

  He thanked Justice Bryan for his time and bade him farewell, then rushed back to let Martin and Aunt Celie know what the plan would be.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “YOU MUST BE OUT OF your damned mind,” Martin said to Adam when he learned they were going to Bath. “Do you know how far that is?”

  Adam nodded. “I do. Justice Bryan said if we leave now we ought to get there by tomorrow morning.”

  Martin gave Adam a skeptical look, then ran straight upstairs to grab his things. He hollered back down the stairs at Adam, “You better find Aunt Celie and let her know. She’s got more to pack than I do.”

  Adam rolled his eyes. He hadn’t even thought about that. Aunt Celie came to New Bern with her big old trunk. Would she really have time to get that packed up quickly so they could leave within the hour?

  “Oh, yessir!” Aunt Celie said to Adam. “Jess you gimme ten minutes and I be ready to go.”

  “Are you sure about this?” Adam asked her. “This will be a longer trip than the last one. We’ve got to go all the way to Bath first.”

  “I heard you. I’m tellin you I wanna go there. I was borned there in Bath, and I ain’t been back since them Martins got married and moved to Beaufort.”

  At that she excused herself and went out to Charles Jr.’s cabin to pack her things. Adam could hear her and Charles Jr. fussing with each other from inside the house, but he wasn’t about to go out there and get in the middle of it. He knew in spite of what Aunt Celie thought that Charles Jr. would not want his mother to leave, but he also knew that Aunt Celie seemed resolute about going her own way.

  AN HOUR LATER CHARLES JR. was taking them all down to the wharf in the mule cart. He helped them load the periauger and hugged his mother.

  “You sure you won’t stay here?” he asked her.

  She stood on her tiptoes and gave her son a kiss on the cheek. “Hush now. Lord willin, I’ll see you again another
time. Maybe you come see me down in Beaufort if you get those papers.”

  “I’ll do it, Mama,” he said, then helped her step down into the vessel. He turned his attention to Adam and Martin. “Y’all please take care of my mama. I don’t much like her leavin like this, but ain’t nobody can tell her nothin. She gon’ do her own thing no matter what anybody say.”

  “We’ll take good care of her,” said Adam. “She’ll be fine.”

  “I’ll guard her with my own life,” said Martin. “Anyhow, Laney’d kill me if anything happened to her.”

  Adam pulled a letter out of his pocket and handed it to Charles Jr.. “Listen,” he said. “I need you to take this letter to Mr. Alexander Pearce. Let him know that we’ve gone to Bath in search of more answers and that this letter will explain everything.”

  Charles Jr. nodded. “Will do, sir.”

  Then he waved and watched them untie from the dock and glide out into the river.

  The trip to Bath was long and cold, not to mention a little awkward traveling with Aunt Celie but not Laney. Adam noticed the old woman looked exceedingly tense, so he asked her what was wrong.

  “Y’all don’t never say no prayers ’less somebody tells you to, do you?”

  Adam looked at Martin. Martin rolled his eyes.

  “You wanted us to say a prayer for safe sailing, didn’t you?” Adam asked.

  “Well…” She hesitated a minute. “Don’t you reckon you should?”

  “You’re right,” said Adam. “How about if I do it now?”

  She tsked, then turned her head away. “That’d be fine. Better late than never.”

  Adam tried hard not to smile. He didn’t know why she hadn’t just mentioned it before they left the dock rather than sitting there suffering with worry that they’d have a bad trip if they didn’t pray first. He thought about Aunt Franny. She wouldn’t hesitate to tell him outright that he needed to pray before making a trip like that. He wished Aunt Celie felt at ease with speaking to him as freely, but he understood why she didn’t.