Murder in the Marsh

by Sara Whitford

  “We need to hurry back to Bath,” said Adam, “because I’m sure the man we suspect is the one surviving accomplice is now a good ways south of Beaufort, if he’s even gone where he said he was going.”

  “Where might that be?” asked the sheriff.

  “He said he had a sister in Charleston, and that he had nieces and nephews there that he was hoping to go see.” Adam thought back on what Paxon had told him. “But if he’s the same man who Paxon described, and he really has no other brothers or sisters, it’s anybody’s guess where the man we’re thinking of could have gone.”

  “That’s right,” said Martin. “So we do need to be going.”

  “I oughtn’t to stand in yer way then, gentlemen,” said the sheriff. “Ye go ahead and fetch yer slave wench from the courthouse, and we’ll see you off.”

  “One thing, Sheriff,” said Adam.

  “What would that be, young man?”

  “If we’re right about the men who were down in our neck of the woods being the same men that Paxon here was talking about, then it may be that he really is innocent of the murder of his storekeeper.”

  “It may be that what ye say is true,” said the sheriff. “Ye needn’t worry. Our gaol ain’t crowded, and we’ll want to hear what comes of those other men so that we can be sure we hang the right man.”

  “We’ll send word to you as soon as we have more information,” said Adam.

  “Very well,” said the sheriff.

  Adam and Martin bade him farewell, then went to get Aunt Celie.

  After that, Adam quickly ran down to the tavern and asked if he could order some beef stew, along with something to carry it in. The proprietor was reluctant to sell one of his jars along with the food, but the price Adam offered was too much for him to resist.

  “I can’t offer you silverware, though,” said the wiry old man. “So I reckon you’ll be eatin with your fingers.”

  “I’m sure we have some spoons on the boat,” Adam replied with a chuckle. He knew Valentine would probably have said the same thing.

  He also bought a hot loaf of bread, just taken from the oven, and some apple tarts, which the man wrapped in an old newspaper.

  Adam rejoined Martin and Aunt Celie, who were shivering as they waited in the periauger.

  “Let’s go,” said Martin. “It’s still early. We can make good time if we hurry up. The winds are coming from the northwest—that ought to move us right along.”

  Adam quickly climbed in and untied them from the dock, and they were on their way. It was only ten when they left Bath. If the winds continued to be cooperative and the seas remained calm, they should make it back to Beaufort no later than ten the next morning.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  THE TRIP FROM BATH TO Beaufort was a blessedly uneventful one. The wind and sea seemed to understand that Adam and company were in a hurry to get home, and so they conspired to get them there quickly and easily.

  Martin and Adam were able to draw Aunt Celie into conversation like they had on the trip to New Bern—by getting her to talk about when Will and Laney were children and her own history with the family.

  Not long after the Rogers’s Shipping Company warehouse came into view, Adam could see Emmanuel and Boaz standing out on the dock, apparently anxiously awaiting their arrival. Adam could tell they were surprised at seeing the old slave woman in the boat with them.

  As soon as they docked at the warehouse, Emmanuel said, “Thank God! I thought you’d be back yesterday and was beginning to worry.”

  “I’m surprised to see you out here,” said Adam. “It’s freezing cold!”

  “Never mind that,” said Emmanuel. “I’m happy you’re back safe and sound. Let’s go inside, where it’s warmer.”

  Once they were all in the building, Adam explained how they ended up having to go to Bath after learning about another crime, and that one of the alleged accomplices had the same initials that were on the canteen found out at Harlowe Creek. He also explained that after talking to the prisoner at Bath, they thought the musician named Ben might be connected to the murder in the marsh, and possibly the others as well.

  Emmanuel and Boaz were both stunned at the revelations and wanted more information, but Martin said he ought to take Aunt Celie on home to Laney’s estate.

  “Certainly,” said Emmanuel. “You go ahead. Adam can fill us in on the rest of the details.”

  Martin borrowed Emmanuel’s horse cart to take Aunt Celie home. As soon as they were gone, Adam and the others went upstairs to the warmth of the living quarters and sat around the table. It occurred to Adam that he was happy to see his grandfather was still up and moving around in spite of the bitter temperature.

  Boaz asked, “Now what’s this you said about that musician?”

  Adam explained that he and Martin believed, based on the description they got from Paxon, that Ben may really be the man who had called himself Harmon Jones, and that the corpse in the marsh fit the description of Rueben Jones, his brother, at least as much as a man could after rotting for a week or two out in the elements.

  “And who are Harmon and Rueben Jones?” Emmanuel asked.

  Adam explained about the Paxon crime at Bath that had been in the paper. He told about how Paxon had claimed two accomplices had helped him, and that their descriptions fit remarkably well with Ben and the man whose body was in the marsh.

  “That seems like quite a leap, don’t it?” said Boaz. “Y’all assuming that just because the physical descriptions are similar that they’re the same men. What would even make you think that? A lot of men might fit the descriptions Paxon gave.”

  “That’s true,” said Adam, “but he said the man called Harmon was a remarkable musician, and the description he gave fit him perfectly. And then Ben goes and disappears the day after we get back from Harlowe Creek. In addition, don’t you think it’s a little strange that Ben told me his name was Benajah Harmon, but Paxon knew the two brothers as Harmon and Reuben Jones?”

  “He has a point,” said Emmanuel, hands folded across the table in front of him.

  “Hmph.” Boaz grunted. “I don’t even want to think we invited a killer into our midst at that pig pickin.”

  “Me neither,” said Adam, “but it doesn’t really matter what we want to be true.”

  “Indeed,” said Emmanuel. “I would say the most important thing right now is for you to figure out where Ben has gone. You need to hurry down to the Topsail and see what you can find out.”

  “Wait,” said Boaz. “Do you think those other two musicians are also his accomplices?”

  Adam shook his head. “I don’t think so. The night I first met Ben and Toby, they said they hadn’t played together long at all. Only I didn’t realize that actually meant they’d only been playing together a few days. When I went by to find Ben on Tuesday morning, James said he had no idea where he’d gone.”

  “Fine then,” said Emmanuel. “I think you ought to go on down to the tavern. Only Martin has just taken the horse cart.”

  “That’s no bother,” said Adam. “It’ll feel good to walk after so much time the last couple of days on the water.”

  WHEN HE GOT BACK TO the tavern, he was relieved to find Toby was there.

  “I’m glad you stopped by,” said the tall red-haired fiddler. “I heard you came here the other day looking for Ben.”

  “I did,” said Adam. “Have you seen him?”

  Toby shook his head. “No, I sure haven’t, but he left something for you.” He went into the room and rifled around through his bag, then brought what looked like the missing journal over to Adam. “James didn’t know that Ben had given it to me with the clear instructions to give it to you when I saw you.”

  Adam took the journal and flipped through the pages to see the notes inside. Everything looked in order.

  Toby continued: “I asked Mr. Hodges when you might be back, and he said he wasn’t sure, that you’d gone out of town.”


  Adam nodded. “I did go out of town. Just got back a little while ago. Listen, did Ben happen to leave anything else here, like maybe a silver pocket mirror or something like that?”

  Toby laughed. “No, as hard up for money as Ben was, I reckon if he had a silver mirror he likely sold it and used the money to help pay his way down to Charleston. He’s a clever rascal.”

  Oh, thought Adam, you have no idea.

  He thanked Toby for his time and told him if he heard anything from or about Ben to please either let Valentine know, or send word down to Rogers’s Shipping Company.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  AS SOON AS ADAM LEFT the tavern, he knew his next stop would have to be the only place in town where he knew the owner regularly bought used items off of folks to resell.

  Simon Moore, the heir apparent of Moore’s Mercantile, was a bright-eyed, amiable, energetic young man who couldn’t have been more than thirty-five. His father ran the store before him, but he was now sickly and confined to his bed and was being cared for by Simon’s wife and daughter while Simon worked each day.

  Before Adam had been apprenticed to Emmanuel, he always loved visiting Moore’s shop. He had the best general store in the region, with all sorts of diverse merchandise. Nowadays, though, Adam didn’t stop in nearly as often unless he was there conducting business for Emmanuel. Nearly all of the imported goods that were sold at Moore’s came into Beaufort through Rogers’s Shipping Company.

  Today Adam was there on a different kind of business, yet Simon Moore was as friendly and helpful as he’d always been.

  “I’ve seen the fellow you mentioned. He’s been in a few times since he came to town. First time he came he wanted to sell a gold locket—very fine piece, but with a broken clasp—and for a reasonable price, too.” Simon gave him a sly but friendly smile. “I ought to be able to make a nice profit on it as soon as I get the piece to fix it. Care to see it?”

  Adam nodded. “Oh yes, I would.”

  Simon went to a wooden drawer in the cabinet that was built into the wall behind his counter, and he unlocked it with a key that he kept on a cord around his neck. He pulled a long gold chain out of the drawer with a heavy locket that dangled from it. Adam had a sinking feeling in his stomach as he briefly remembered sitting for Ed Willis on board the Gypsy while he painted a tiny portrait of him to go into a locket he’d bought for his mother in Havana.

  He hadn’t thought about that until just now.

  “Here it is,” said Simon as he laid the chain and locket out on a piece of soft cloth on the counter. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

  Adam nodded as he closely examined the piece. “Do you mind if I open it?”

  “No, of course not. Go right ahead.”

  Adam carefully picked up the locket and was impressed by its weight. “This must’ve cost you a great deal of money.”

  Simon tipped his head to the side and nodded. “Yes, but not nearly as much as he could’ve gotten for it if he’d have shopped it around. I could tell he was trying to get it out of his hands, though. He said as a musician, never knowing where he was going to stay from town to town, things that valuable could easily be stolen.”

  “Did he say where it came from?” asked Adam. “I mean, I’m just thinking this must not be a family heirloom or anything for him to part with it so easily.”

  “No, in fact he said it was actually something another man gave to him as a payment for some money he owed him. Apparently, this little trinket has changed hands more than once.”

  Adam turned it over, carefully studying both sides as well as the inside—which was empty. There was no hyacinth blossom on it like there had been on the mirror, so nothing about it made it seem like it belonged to Mrs. Dudley. The locket was pretty, but it was very simply engraved, not at all ornate. The greater part of its value was surely in its gold weight.

  “I reckon he used part of the money he got for this to pay for his room at the tavern,” said Adam.

  “Maybe,” said Simon. “I know he turned right around and gave me part of the money to buy that guitar he played while he was here. He’s already traded it back to me, though, just before he left town. It’s right over there.” He pointed to a far corner of the mercantile near the store room.

  Adam hadn’t noticed it before because of all of the bins and shelves and baskets of this and that, but sure enough, there was Ben’s guitar.

  “You’re saying he didn’t come to town with that instrument?”

  Simon shook his head. “No, sir. He reasoned that he’d buy it and use it to make more money. Smart fellow, if you ask me. Always thinking of ways to improve his situation.”

  Adam nodded in agreement. “It would seem that way, wouldn’t it?” He was sickened to think about just how scheming this man named Harmon, alias Ben, was. “How much did you pay him to buy the guitar back?”

  “Just four shillings. Can you believe it?”

  Adam looked at Simon in utter confusion. “Four shillings? That’s all?”

  “Yes. He said he didn’t want to travel such a distance with an instrument so large—too cumbersome. Said he didn’t need much for it, that he’d made right much money here in town. He said he was just grateful that I had been able to help him out while he was here.”

  “Hmm.” Adam was pensive. “What about a pocket mirror? Did he bring anything like that here?”

  Simon shook his head. “No, nothing like that. Why do you ask?”

  Adam proceeded to fill Simon in on what he suspected was true of his recent customer.

  Simon was understandably dismayed.

  “I can’t believe it,” he said. “Here I’ve been helping finance this fugitive, thinking he was such a nice fellow! You never know who to trust these days.”

  “Eh, Simon, you can’t blame yourself. You didn’t know. None of us knew. For goodness’ sake, I invited him out with us to Harlowe Creek. We stood there looking at a dead body, which was apparently his own brother, and he took notes about it like he was a complete stranger. It’s frightening to think anyone could be so cold and deceptive.”

  “He sounds like he could be the Devil’s own son.”

  “I won’t argue with you there,” said Adam.

  He thanked Simon for the information and asked him to send word if he heard anything that might help the authorities locate Ben. Simon said he’d keep an ear out.

  Now Adam needed to talk to Emmanuel so they could try and figure out how to track down the killer.

  Chapter Thirty

  ON THE WAY BACK TO the warehouse, Adam thought about the pocket mirror. What reason would Ben have for not getting rid of it before he left? Surely he could have gotten a few shillings for it, anyway. Maybe he knew it would tie him directly to the Dudley attack.

  Also, Ben apparently told everyone he was headed to Charleston to see his sister, but what if that was all a lie? Paxon said he didn’t know of Ben or Reuben having any other siblings. He may have gone down to Charleston, but for that matter, he could have gone in any direction.

  Adam bounded up the stairs two at a time until he got to the living quarters. He quietly crossed the sitting room to the door of his grandfather’s room, and he slowly opened it to peek inside.

  “I’m awake, boy,” said Emmanuel. “I’m just resting—haven’t done much of that the last couple of days.” He was curled up on his side under the covers. His back was facing the wall where the fireplace crackled. “Come in and sit down. Tell me what you’ve learned.”

  Adam came in and closed the door behind him so that he wouldn’t let the warmth of the room out. He crossed over to the bed and sat in the chair that was next to it. “I’ve just spoken to Simon Moore. He told me that Ben Harmon, or Harmon Jones—whatever his name is—sold him a valuable gold necklace when he first arrived in town. That was nearly three weeks ago. He spent a little bit of the money he got for it to buy a guitar, which he used to play music at the tavern. The day he left town he sol
d the same guitar back to Simon for four shillings.”

  “Did he say anything of the mirror?”

  Adam shook his head. “I just told you everything he told me.”

  Emmanuel clutched hard at the pillow beneath his head. “This man has to be found, Adam. He killed Ed Willis, I’m sure of it, and he must be brought to justice. And I think the authorities would like to ask him of other crimes he’s committed. There’s no telling how many victims are out there longing for justice, not knowing the name of the man who brought them misery.”

  Adam leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees, fingers interwoven. “Don’t you worry. We’ll find out where he went. I’ll track him down myself if I have to.”

  “Go ask around down by the boats. The fishermen could probably tell you at least if there were any vessels traveling far south from here.”

  “I’ll do it,” said Adam.

  He stood from the chair and was about to leave the room.

  “One thing, though,” said Emmanuel.

  “What is it?”

  “If you learn of his whereabouts, don’t be a fool. Do not try to go after this man on your own.”

  “I promise you I’ll come back here for help if I find out where he’s gone. Alright?”

  Emmanuel gave him a small nod. “Alright. Godspeed.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  ADAM LEFT THE WAREHOUSE AND went straight down to the town docks, where fishermen were bringing in their catches.

  “You sure you haven’t seen anyone like him?” Adam asked a couple of men who were bringing in small barrels of fish they had caught.

  They shook their heads. One of them said, “We ain’t seen nobody ’cept the same ol’ rascals out here on the water every day.”

  The other man said, “Maybe you ought to run over there to Baldwin’s place. He’s keepin his fingers in everything that’s happenin down here.”