A Simple Shaker Murder

by Deborah Woodworth

  “Sure, we’ll keep an eye out,” Gilbert had said, too casually, “but she does this all the time. Just give her a few hours or a day, and she’ll be back. She always is. She takes it into her head to disappear sometimes, and we have no idea why.”

  Rose called the Sheriff’s Office, hoping to get Grady, but she was disappointed to hear Sheriff Brock’s impatient voice.

  “Well, what is it now? Y’all come up with another body out there?”

  Rose told him about Mairin’s disappearance.

  “The kid makes a habit of disappearing, doesn’t she?”

  “Yea, but—”

  “I don’t have time or near enough men to go off looking for a runaway, especially when she isn’t even one of ours.” Brock slammed the phone down before she could ask for Grady. Not that it mattered; Brock would have said Grady was out, anyway.

  Rose was on her own. Her distrust was running high, and so was her fear. She decided to do a thorough search, with or without help. It was the perfect time to search the South Family Dwelling House, with everyone in the communal dining room. If anyone was still in the dwelling house, Rose didn’t care; she intended to search every corner of that building, and she wasn’t about to let anyone stop her.

  The wind cut through the village with a warning of winter, and Rose was glad she’d remembered to grab her long cloak as she’d rushed out of the Ministry House. Since morning, the air had dipped from crisp to shivery, which meant a cold night—far too cold for a little girl to be outdoors or in some damp basement. Mairin was a bright child; perhaps she had found a cozy corner in a dwelling house to stash herself. Rose tried to fend off the other, more terrifying alternative—that Mairin’s disappearance might not have been her own choice.

  Perhaps her luck had changed; the South Family Dwelling House seemed empty, though of course all the lights had been left burning. The effort to leave them on cost Rose a stab of pain through her head. She reminded herself that her most important goal was to find Mairin, and lights might help. She began with the closets and all the unoccupied rooms, hoping Mairin had opted for something warmer than the storage rooms downstairs. She took the chance of calling Mairin’s name in each room. The child might not answer, but if she had been taken against her will and could still cry out, surely she would do so when she recognized Rose’s voice.

  Driven by deepening suspicion, Rose also searched the rooms claimed by the New-Owenites. It was possible, after all, that the seven of them were working together. The jumble of conflicting information they tossed at Rose could be a clever ploy to keep her confused while they carried out their real plan. They could keep Mairin in one of their rooms, or move her from room to room, while all lied about it to Rose.

  In her previous search of the South Family Dwelling House, Rose had stopped with Earl’s room. This time she sped through examinations of the other two men’s rooms. Their contents told her nothing. Then she went on to the next room and realized immediately that it must have been Hugh’s. Earl and Celia had said that they’d packed everything and sent it home. They’d told half the truth, anyway. Everything was packed up, but clearly nothing had been sent anywhere.

  Time was growing short, but Rose had to check. The crates were probably the same ones the New-Owenites had used to move to North Homage. They had lids but weren’t sealed shut. Rose quickly opened several until she came to one that held books and papers. Near the top, she found some notes Hugh had made to himself about the flora and fauna of the area. Hugh, at least, had shown true interest in learning and the natural sciences. Hugh’s handwriting was readable, but difficult. She dug further and found a draft of a pamplet about the geology of the area around Bloomington. It was printed, and far from neat. Rose was disappointed. She couldn’t be sure, of course, but the writing looked similar to that on the suicide note. Still, she thought, why print a suicide note? She removed one piece of paper, folded it, and stuffed it in her apron pocket. Without too much concern for neatness, she replaced the rest.

  Rose remembered all the cubbyholes in the South Family Dwelling House, or so she thought. She wouldn’t put it past Mairin to find some new ones. However, a careful search of the first and second floors revealed nothing except that the New-Owenites seemed to be exploring the building, as well. Furniture was being distributed to the unused rooms, as if North Homage’s guests were preparing for guests of their own. They seemed more and more confident that they’d be allowed to stay, even bring in new members, and continue to use the Shakers’ resources.

  She hurried through the dim kitchen, with a cursory look in the pantry. Despite the nearness of food, the room was too open and too frequently used to provide a safe hiding place. As she headed for the stairs to the storage rooms, she glanced over at the corner where she’d listened through the pipes to the New-Owenites’ meeting. The pipes were still there, but not where they should be. The whole system had been disassembled and lay in pieces on the already littered floor. A thick piece of wood leaned against the wall as if someone might be trying to find a way to block off the pipes. It certainly wasn’t the brethren—they would have done a quick and efficient job and not left behind a mess. So the New-Owenites had indeed heard Mairin and her that night. They might not realize that one voice had belonged to her, but they surely knew that Mairin would have been the other.

  Rose ran down to the storage rooms, so afraid of what she might find that she ignored the warning pains in her left knee. She scoured every nook and cranny, softly calling Mairin’s name. She saw and heard nothing except the occasional skittering of a rodent, probably on its way to or from the kitchen. She was panting now, fighting off tears. She told herself to stop and breathe; she had a lot more of the village to search. She would find Mairin. She wouldn’t give up until she did.

  “You are overwrought, my dear,” Agatha said. “Have some of my tea. It’s peppermint, quite good. Gertrude always brings me an extra cup these days, in case a visitor drops in during the noon meal. Now, tell me what’s been happening.”

  Rose accepted the tea gratefully and sank into her chair. “You heard that Mairin has disappeared?”

  Agatha nodded. “Gertrude told me. I’ve been praying to Mother Ann to protect the child.”

  “No one else seems to be taking it seriously,” Rose said, “even though she disappeared between the schoolroom and the Schoolhouse storage room hours ago, and it’s getting colder outside, and . . .”

  Agatha reached out and touched Rose’s hand. “A prayer wouldn’t hurt you right now, either,” she said.

  Rose caught her breath and followed Agatha’s advice.

  ‘Tell me, then,” Agatha said, after a few moments of silence, “where have you looked so far?”

  She told Agatha of her frantic search through the South Family Dwelling House, including the information she’d gathered. “It’ll take days to search the entire village,” Rose said.

  “I see we do have a great deal to fear from these people,” Agatha said. She began rocking gently, which usually meant she was thinking. Rose felt as grateful as a child who has turned her problem over to the all-knowing grown-ups. At the same time, she worried about Agatha’s frail health. Agatha hadn’t bothered with her white cap, and her pale scalp showed through the thin white hair pulled back into a knot at the nape of her neck. Her small body seemed thinner and more bent every day. But somehow, her soul kept growing, and Rose wondered how much longer it could be contained within her fading body.

  Agatha stopped rocking. “Nora,” she said. “I have watched the friendship grow between those two. If Mairin has gone off of her own accord, Nora is the only one who will know where she is likely to hide.”

  Rose felt a surge of energy. “Of course! I’ve been so convinced that the burden was entirely on me that I forgot about Nora. Thank you, my friend. I’ll go find her right away. Shall I take your tray back to the kitchen? Gertrude must be exhausted, what with the extra mouths to feed and delivering meals.”

  “Oh, Gertrude didn’t bring my
noon meal,” Agatha said. “Elsa offered to do so. I was quite pleased that she went out of her way to be of service to a sister.”

  “Elsa? Elsa brought your meal to you? Has she ever once done that before?”

  “Nay, but I’ve prayed often that she will turn her heart more completely to our faith.”

  If there was a weakness in Agatha’s wisdom, Rose realized, it was that she insisted on hoping that people would change for the better, even while she acknowledged all evidence to the contrary. Rose had long ago given up on Elsa, and she had seen no reason to change her view. If Elsa had brought Agatha’s meal, it was because Elsa had a purpose.

  “Agatha, those drawings of Mairin’s—the ones I asked you to look at and keep for me—where did you put them?”

  Impossible as it seemed, Agatha’s face paled even more. “Oh dear,” she said. “You don’t mean . . . I’d left them on the desk, over there,” she said. “I can’t really see that far, you’d better check.”

  It took only a glance. “The drawings aren’t there,” Rose said, with as much gentleness as she could muster. Agatha couldn’t afford another stroke. “I’m sure there was just a mix-up,” she said lightly. “She probably picked them up by mistake. I’ll talk to her. You needn’t worry.”

  “Nay, I sure enough didn’t pick up no pictures,” Elsa said, when Rose cornered her in the kitchen. “I don’t go around stealing things from folks’ rooms. I ain’t no thief.”

  “I didn’t say you were, Elsa. I just wondered if by any chance you picked them up by mistake. Mistakes happen to all of us.”

  “I ain’t stupid, neither. I know when I’m gettin’ accused of stealing, and I don’t have to take it. Elder Wilhelm knows I’m a good Shaker, even if nobody else around here does.” Still mumbling, Elsa thrust her hands in the hot soapy water and clattered a sinkful of plates as loudly as she could without breaking them.

  Rose would get no admissions out of Elsa, that much was clear. She gave up. It didn’t matter anyway; she had a fair idea about what had happened. She was certain that Elsa had indeed taken the drawings, and that she had done so at Wilhelm’s request. Perhaps he had told her the drawings were gifts belonging to the whole Society, and Rose had no right to exclusive ownership. She wouldn’t be surprised if Wilhelm—or more probably Elsa—had searched Rose’s room, found nothing, and chosen Agatha as the next likely keeper of the drawings.

  Rose paused to sit in the parlor of the Center Family Dwelling House with her head in her hands. Elsa would do all this only at Wilhelm’s bidding. She would never have thought of it herself—which meant that Wilhelm now had all six drawings. With or without Mairin, he would go on with the planned evening worship service, hoping to catch the New-Owenites off guard and convert them easily. She could only pray that Wilhelm or Elsa did not find Mairin before she did, because they would force her to attend the service. And there would be at least one person in attendance who did not want the information in Mairin’s drawings to be brought into the light.

  TWENTY-THREE

  ROSE NEEDED TO KEEP MOVING, SO SHE WALKED TO THE CHILDREN’S Dwelling House instead of phoning. Normally everyone would be at worship in the Meetinghouse by this time on a Sunday afternoon, and the rare change in schedule had left some folks at loose ends. The adult Believers just went back to work, but the children grew cranky at the suggestion of more lessons. Given the chilly weather, Charlotte had gathered them all inside the Children’s Dwelling House and set them to cleaning their rooms more thoroughly than usual. Charlotte herself was sweeping the comers of the gathering room when Rose found her.

  “Nora? She should be up in her room, cleaning, but I wouldn’t stake my soul on it,” Charlotte told her. “She’s been out of sorts since Mairin disappeared. I think she’s worried to death, so I’ve been gentle with her. But she does keep disappearing herself. I suspect she’s slipping out to look for Mairin on her own, poor child.”

  “Remind me which room is hers?”

  ‘Top of the stairs and two down to the left,” Charlotte said. “Good luck.”

  Rose was not surprised to find Nora’s room only tolerably tidy—and empty. She checked the bathroom and the other girls’ rooms, but Nora was nowhere to be found. Just to be sure, Rose climbed the stairs to the little-used third floor, once filled to capacity with orphaned and abandoned children. She found neither Nora nor Mairin in the sad, empty rooms, but there was evidence that someone had used the area recently—a blanket tossed into a corner, bread crumbs on the floor, a soiled white cup.

  Rose descended the staircase to the second floor. On impulse, she revisited Nora’s room, and there she was, frowning in concentration as she dusted the mushroom-shaped pegs that encircled her room, low enough for a child’s reach.

  “Nora, where were you just now?”

  “Um, just now? Right here,” Nora said, with wide-eyed innocence. “Charlotte sent us to clean our rooms.”

  “I know that, but I checked a few minutes ago, and you most certainly were not here. There’s no place for you to disappear from view in here,” Rose said, glancing around the plain, sparsely furnished room.

  Nora didn’t respond, apparently hoping the moment would pass and Rose would lose interest. Rose arched an eyebrow at her. Avoiding the dreaded eyebrow, Nora gazed down at her hands, which were clutching a cleaning rag. Her face lightened.

  “I needed a clean rag,” she said. “So you must have come by while I was downstairs in the cleaning closet.”

  There wasn’t much Rose could say to that, though she was sure it was an outright lie. Her suspicions were ballooning. Nora was clever and unpredictable, but Rose didn’t believe she would he except for a very good reason. She was fairly certain the reason was Mairin. If she asked Nora directly where Mairin was hiding, Nora would lie again. Clearly, Mairin had sworn her to silence. No matter, Rose felt her heart lift. If Nora was in contact with Mairin, then the child was hiding of her own accord.

  “Okay,” Rose said. “You’d best get back to it, then. I’ll see you at dinner,” She hoped she’d hit the right balance of cheerfulness and sternness, so Nora would not suspect that she had figured out the secret Nora would be far easier to follow if she had no reason to believe anyone might be doing so.

  Rose positioned herself just at the edge of the grove of maples behind the old burned-out Water House. She was hidden from view, and she could see both the front and back entrances to the Children’s Dwelling House. Short of climbing out a window in broad daylight, those were the only ways Nora could leave the building.

  Rose’s knee began a dull throb after about an hour of standing behind a thick maple trunk, peeking out toward the village. She was also feeling silly, as if she’d transformed into one of the children herself. But she couldn’t afford to give up. The worship service—and night—would be upon them in four or five hours, and Rose had to know where Mairin was.

  She shifted her position so she could lean more comfortably against the tree, and as she looked again, she saw Nora’s slender figure slither out the back door of the Children’s Dwelling House. Nora peered in all directions but didn’t seem to perceive Rose among the trees. Nora edged along close to the building until she reached the southeast corner, then she was out of sight.

  Ignoring the objections of her knee, Rose bolted toward the fields in back of the Children’s Dwelling House. There were no crops to hide her, but it was the best she could do. She ran east and gradually toward the building until she could see around the corner at which Nora had disappeared. She was just in time to see Nora’s head dip down, followed by the cellar door of the South Family Dwelling House.

  Rose ran toward the dwelling house, not sure what she’d do when she got there. It would be difficult to follow Nora through the storage rooms and the kitchen without being seen, but she might have to. If Mairin really was in the building, she was extraordinarily well hidden, and following Nora might be the only way to find her.

  Nora would surely be moving along fast. Rose lifted the ce
llar door just enough to slide through, even though it meant twisting her knee. She winced both in pain and at the squeak of the door as she moved it, but she didn’t have time to go more slowly. Nora was well out of sight, and probably hearing, too.

  The dirt floor absorbed the sound of her feet, so Rose hurried through the storage areas, looking quickly into each one as she passed. She could not imagine Mairin hiding in any of the dank, clammy underground rooms, despite the proximity to food. She expected Nora to stop in the kitchen to pick up a snack for Mairin and then head upstairs, so she was caught off guard when she reached the last area and peered into the dimness to see Nora’s back. The girl seemed to be deciding between raspberry and peach preserves. There was no sign of Mairin.

  Rose flung herself back against the wall outside the storage room and looked around her. She couldn’t stay where she was; Nora would see her. Briefly she considered confronting the girl and ordering her to reveal Mairin’s whereabouts, but there was a good chance she’d endure punishment before she would break her word to a friend. Besides, knowing Nora, the more dramatic the situation became, the more she’d enjoy her role.

  Edging backward so Nora wouldn’t sneak out without her knowing, Rose tiptoed into the next storage area behind her. By easing around the edge, she was able to see the opening from which Nora would emerge. With luck, Nora wouldn’t doubt she was alone and look in Rose’s direction. A delicate plea to Holy Mother Wisdom probably wouldn’t hurt, either, so she said a silent prayer.

  The angels must have been listening, because Nora left the storage area at a normal pace, her eyes on the jar she’d selected, perhaps still wondering if the other choice might not have been better. She turned toward the stairs to the kitchen without looking up.