Murder in the Marsh

by Sara Whitford

  “I thank you, gentlemen,” Adam said, before walking off in the direction of Baldwin’s Chandlery.

  Faulkner Baldwin had been a merchant like Emmanuel up until about five years ago. His business had fallen apart after Richard Rasquelle started picking off his customers. Now that Rasquelle was gone, Baldwin had set up shop in the building that had been Rasquelle’s warehouse. Baldwin wasn’t operating a mercantile business now, though. When he returned to Beaufort, he met with Emmanuel, and the two of them agreed that Beaufort needed a good well-stocked store for ship supplies, so it was decided that Emmanuel would import the goods if Faulkner Baldwin would agree to sell them.

  Adam had a burning feeling in the pit of his stomach when he first went through the door on the street side of Baldwin’s Ship Chandlery. He remembered the night he had sneaked in there to spy on Rasquelle as though it were yesterday.

  The place looked quite a bit different now, though. There were still some barrels along a couple of walls in the place, but now there was a long counter set up at the western end of the building, where Baldwin conducted his sales business.

  “Good day, sir,” said the short, balding roly-poly man behind the counter. “What might I help you with today?”

  Adam crossed the warehouse to where the middle-aged fellow stood and offered to shake his hand. “Hello, sir. My name is Adam Fletcher. I work for Emmanuel Rogers—he’s also my grandfather—and I’m afraid I’ve not had the pleasure of making your acquaintance.”

  Baldwin enthusiastically shook Adam’s hand. “Oh well! Nice to meet you, boy! You’re Emmanuel’s grandson, you say? I never even knew he had a family.”

  Adam grinned and nodded but didn’t respond to that comment. He hadn’t said it to boast about his family relationship to Emmanuel, but rather to establish that he wasn’t just some stranger wandering in off the street looking for information.

  “Listen, sir,” said Adam, “I was told you might be able to help me out with some information. I’ve been told that you know what’s happening down here at the docks better than just about anybody. I was wondering if you knew anything of a man named Ben, or Harmon, who left this town several days ago. He stayed briefly at the Topsail Tavern as a musician, but he left one morning, and no one knows for sure where he’s gone.”

  Baldwin shook his head. “No, I’m afraid I haven’t heard of anybody like that.”

  “It’s possible he was using an alias,” said Adam. “Have any strangers that you know of hired any captains you know to take them away from here?”

  “I can’t say that I’ve heard about any strangers hiring any local captains to take them anywhere. Remember it’s winter. Folks aren’t much for traveling in this kind of weather.”

  Adam nodded in agreement. “That’s true. This man said he was headed south—to Charleston. Have there even been any ships leaving here that you know of that were headed in that direction, strangers on board or not?”

  “Well, let’s see here… let me think…” Baldwin leaned forward and rested his chubby elbows on the counter. He ran his finger down some sort of list that was in front of him, then seemed to cross-reference what he had seen there with a calendar he had written out on another paper. “Mm-hmm. Right here, see?” He turned the list and the calendar around and pointed to a date from two weeks earlier. “See, on this day Mr. George Cherry—you know who he is, don’t you?—he left with his wife and children to his wife’s family’s estate in Tortola. There was a death in the family, you know. They went to settle affairs and so Mrs. Cherry can claim her inheritance. I don’t reckon they’ll be back until spring, or maybe longer.”

  “And they left two weeks ago?” Adam asked. “Was this common knowledge? I mean, did many folks know about this?”

  “Who’s to say?” said Baldwin. “I knew about it, but I haven’t any idea if he went around telling folks about it.”

  Adam nodded. “Mr. Cherry doesn’t have any slaves, does he? And I don’t reckon he’ll have any servants staying on the grounds while he’s away, will he?”

  “Ah, no,” said Baldwin. “You know him. He’s a Quaker. They don’t believe in keeping slaves. But I do know he has a neighbor who was going to check in on his estate from time to time until the Cherrys return—just to make sure everything is in order. You understand?”

  “Yes,” said Adam. “Well, there’s no chance this Ben fellow could’ve gotten hired to go down to assist the Cherry family on their journey to Tortola. He was still here a week ago.”

  “That’s what I was telling you,” said Baldwin. “Other than the regulars going in and out fishing and shrimping and whatnot, there’s been no vessel that could’ve taken this man north, south, or east—at least not leaving from this port. I’d know about it.”

  “That’s fine,” said Adam. “Keep your ears open, if you would. Please send word down to us if you hear anything.”

  “Will do,” said Baldwin. “What do y’all want with this fellow anyhow?”

  “We believe he killed Ed Willis, and others as well. He’s dangerous and should not be given shelter or transportation by anyone for any reason, unless it’s in irons and to the gaol.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  AS SOON AS ADAM LEFT Faulkner Baldwin Ship Chandlery, he hurried back to the warehouse. He had a sneaking suspicion that Ben, or Harmon—whatever he called himself—was hiding out at George Cherry’s estate. He didn’t want to go out to the Cherry estate alone, and he had promised Emmanuel he would come back to the warehouse for help if he thought he knew where Harmon was.

  Boaz was working down on the floor of the warehouse, shaping staves for casks.

  “Martin come back with the horse cart yet?” Adam asked.

  “He did. Came back a little while ago, but then he took off again. Said he’d be back later—had some business to tend to.”

  Adam kicked the ground and stood with his hand on his hip and thought for a moment. “Alright, listen. I think I know where Harmon’s gone off to—and it’s not far. I promised Emmanuel I wouldn’t go after him by myself, but I think it might be best if I go on out there and check things out. If he’s where I think he is and he suspects that anyone knows about it, he won’t hang around long.”

  “Where do you think he’s hiding himself?” Boaz put down the stave he was working on and listened attentively for Adam’s response.

  “Faulkner Baldwin said no ships have gone out of here in the last week. Only thing going in and out of these waters are the local fishermen. He did say that George Cherry and his family left a couple of weeks ago for Tortola, but that was before Harmon left town, so he couldn’t have gone with them. If he’s heard about them being gone, don’t you reckon that would be an ideal place for him to hole up for a while, take some valuables, and maybe even make off with a skiff?”

  Boaz considered all that Adam had said. “Well, since you mention it, that sounds just like somethin he’d do. I’ll go with you out there. Emmanuel’s right—you ought not go after this fella by yourself.”

  “I think you should stay here with Emmanuel. Just knowing Harmon is still in the area, I’d hesitate to leave him here alone. Emmanuel can barely get around with that arthritis.”

  “Well, then why don’t you just wait until Martin gets here? He can go with you.”

  “No, daylight’s burning. If we wait too long, it’ll be dark. I have to go now. You know the Cherry place. It’s not far. If there’s no evidence of Harmon there, I should be back in under an hour, but if he is there, I’m going to do what I can to keep him from getting away. Just tell Martin as soon as he gets back to meet me at the Cherry estate, and tell him to bring the cart. If things happen the way I expect they will, somebody will likely need to be carried out of there. Lord willing it’ll be Harmon and not me.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  GEORGE CHERRY’S PLACE WAS LESS than a mile from the warehouse. It was on a creek that flowed out into the North River. It would be an idea place for a criminal to
hole up, steal provisions, and possibly even take a skiff and make an escape.

  While he was tired from the near-constant traveling, Adam was convinced it was a good idea he was going to the estate on foot rather than horseback. It allowed him to make a much quieter approach and not worry about an animal being spotted out on the lawn if he needed to inconspicuously creep towards the house.

  When he arrived on the grounds, it didn’t appear to Adam that anyone was there, but then he heard a noise. He quickly ran around the back of the house but didn’t see anyone. He checked the outbuildings, but still no one. Then all of a sudden a flash from one of the windows in the residence caught his eye.

  He ran towards the house, determined to catch Harmon inside. It frustrated him to know that if Harmon was in there he could just as easily run out the front.

  When he got up on the porch to check the back door, he discovered it was unlocked. He opened the door and quietly stepped inside. Not a sound. He tiptoed slowly through the kitchen, then into the dining room. Next he moved through the foyer, then into the parlor and the library, but no one was downstairs.

  It was time to go upstairs.

  Unfortunately, the third step creaked. He heard movement on the second floor, apparently of Harmon reacting to the sound of him moving through the house. He slowly proceeded up the stairs, which went up straight, then turned left against the opposite wall, then turned left again to enter the second floor.

  He was surprised there was no hallway. Instead the second floor entered directly into a little landing area, and there were doors in three directions that were open into the other bedrooms. To the left as he exited the staircase appeared to be the master suite. He peered inside. There was a side room with a writing desk. Just beyond that there was the master bedchamber. He stepped back out into the landing at the top of the stairs. Across the way there was what appeared to be a little girl’s room.

  He decided to go back through the master suite first. He proceeded through that room and around into the next, which turned out to be what looked like a lady’s dressing room. The next room appeared to be some kind of sitting room. He then made it all the way around into the enormous little girl’s room. The entire second floor was like a big circle.

  Where is he? he thought. He didn’t see or hear Harmon even once while he was moving through the upstairs. Maybe he already ran out the front of the house.

  He went to the windows in the little girl’s room that looked out over the front lawn, but the drapes were too swoopy for him to get a good view. He pulled back one of the heavy curtains, then looked closely at everything he could see outside. He thought he saw a figure running in the distance. He squinted his eyes to get a better look.

  Just then something grazed past him.

  He quickly turned in the direction from which the object came, and he saw Harmon standing in the second-floor entryway. Adam turned to look behind him and saw a knife stuck into the wall from where he had thrown it.

  Adam ran over and grabbed the knife, but when he turned to look back where Harmon had been, he wasn’t there anymore.

  At least he had Harmon’s knife now. He looked at the ivory handle, then the blade, and he wondered if this was the knife that was used to kill Ed Willis.

  He wanted to run him down now more than ever, but the house was like a maze. He could chase him around and around and never corner him, unless he was careful.

  He stood in an alcove next to the stairs in the little second-floor entryway. He decided he wouldn’t move, he wouldn’t make another sound until he heard Harmon make a noise first.

  Sure enough, within a few seconds he heard something coming from the master suite. He glanced around the corner into the room just long enough to get a look at the layout and formulate a plan.

  He knew he better do this right. If anything went wrong, Harmon would slip away, and it would be unlikely he could corner him again.

  Fortunately, the doors leading into and out of the master suite were both along the same wall. The placement of furniture inside the rooms would prove useful. He’d have to be quick and coordinated to block off both doors of the master suite and trap Harmon inside.

  His goal wasn’t to completely stop Harmon from being able to exit the room. All he needed to do was slow him down enough that he wouldn’t be able to get away.

  There was a low dresser on the same wall as the two doors leading into and out of the room. Even though it did have a mirror attached, he didn’t reckon it would be too heavy to move quickly. There was also a desk and chair just inside the door leading into the master suite from the entryway. He had a plan.

  God help me! Adam thought as he quickly ran into master suite and slammed the door behind him. He had no idea where his quarry was hiding, but it was no matter. He intentionally knocked the chair over in front of the door, then ran straight down that same wall and shoved the dresser in front of the other door. He had effectively trapped Harmon inside the master suite with him. He felt confident that he could move faster than the killer, and the adrenaline coursing through his body told him failure was not an option.

  He stood along the wall where the dresser had been and watched for him to come out. He didn’t have to wait long. Harmon quickly emerged from behind a changing screen and slowly walked towards Adam.

  Adam’s jaw was tense, and his eyes were narrowed in anger. His heart was racing, but he wasn’t intimidated—not even a little bit. He knew Harmon was dangerous, but he also knew he’d caught his other victims off guard. They hadn’t been anticipating him trying to kill them. Adam, on the other hand, was ready.

  “Whatcha doin boy?” Harmon asked.

  Adam said nothing. He only glared at the murderer standing less than twenty feet in front of him.

  Harmon started to walk closer. Adam didn’t move a muscle.

  “What brings you out here, Adam? I ain’t got a quarrel with you, you know.” He took a few steps closer. “You can just go on your way. We can just both go our own way. I’ve got a sister waiting to see me in Charleston, but I told you I can’t go down there empty-handed. This fella here with this big ol’ house”—he motioned around the room—“he’s got far more than he needs, don’t he? He won’t miss it if I just take a few little things.” Harmon stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out some jeweled trinkets he’d picked up around the house and showed them to Adam. “This is all I want right here. See? I reckon them people who live here won’t even miss ’em, they’ve got so many pretty things.”

  Adam still didn’t speak. He only sighed and raised an eyebrow in disbelief. After a second or two he slowly cocked his head to size up his opponent, just like he would in a game of chess. Harmon was about his height. He looked strong, but no more so than any of the men Adam worked with every day. He also knew for a fact that a man Harmon’s size, and especially his age, had never been able to take him down at the tavern.

  Adam was finding the longer he stayed still and quiet, the more unsettled Harmon appeared to become. The killer was getting fidgety. He seemed nervous. Nervous people did desperate things.

  Adam was trying to calculate all of the various moves Harmon could make, given where both of them were standing. He was also calculating what his own response would be to each of them. When he noticed Harmon glimpse down at his hand, he knew his goal was to get the knife away from him.

  Adam had been gripping the knife upside down by its handle, with the blade hidden behind his wrist. He didn’t want to make this any bloodier than it had to be, and his bare hands had done a fine job in the past of helping him deal with unsavory characters.

  For a fleeting moment he thought of how easy it would be to end Harmon’s pathetic life with one well-directed thrust of the blade, but then he thought about Ed Willis. If this knife was the one that killed Ed Willis, there was no way Adam wanted to be the next one to take another man’s life with it—at least not if he could help it. Nevertheless, he also knew if it came right down to it, he’d kill
Harmon before he let Harmon kill him.

  In that second Adam knew exactly what to do. He looked at Harmon, then looked across the room to the far side of the bed, where there was the dressing screen and the chamber pot. He quickly tossed the knife across the room so that it landed between the chamber pot and the screen.

  Just as Adam expected, Harmon ran towards the knife, but Adam was quicker. He charged at him like a bull and knocked him back, but Harmon was able to regain his footing by holding on to the footboard of the bed and pivoting. He pulled away and tried to take another step, but he didn’t get far.

  Adam lunged at him full force from behind.

  Once he had him down, Adam threw the weight of his body across Harmon’s back and pulled his arm up behind him to force him into submission. Harmon kept fighting, though.

  “This is no good, boy,” a breathless Harmon said, face to the floor, while struggling to breathe from under Adam’s hold. “I don’t want to kill you, but I will. I told you I ain’t got no quarrel with you.”

  “You won’t kill me. I’ve got your arse on the floor,” Adam said. They were the first words he’d said to the man since he got into the house. “You killed my friend, you worthless snake.”

  Harmon laughed and tried to take a really good breath. He then suddenly tried to burst up by twisting from under Adam’s hold. Adam wasn’t having it, though. He shifted his bodyweight a bit, causing Harmon to think he would be able to break loose. As soon as he’d turned himself all the way around so that he was facing Adam, Adam gave him a sturdy punch, which forced the back of Harmon’s head to crash against the bricks of the fireplace.

  Almost instantly the killer went limp. He wasn’t dead, just knocked out.

  At that point the only thing Adam had to do was find something to bind the fugitive. He decided the silk ropes that were used to hold back the curtains should work just fine. He made quick work of hog-tying Harmon, binding his hands and feet behind him.