Rogues on the River
Page 16
“The first Mrs. Maxwell had been very ill for quite some time,” said Dad. “According to Dr. Hamilton, she lived much longer than anyone had anticipated, although during the last months of her life she was in considerable pain.”
“Perhaps it was the dying Maria Maxwell’s wish that her husband remarry as quickly as possible,” I said. “He’s known to be quite a recluse. Maybe his first wife knew he’d be unbearably lonely without anyone to come home to.”
“Or perhaps Maxwell’s just the sort of man who takes prompt action when he knows he’s found the right woman,” my father suggested.
“Unlike you,” I said, pointedly.
“Well, the Greenville Examiner scooped every paper in town,” Dad said, refusing to be drawn into a discussion of his own romantic entanglements. “That’s not important, however, compared to saving Mrs. Maxwell’s life.”
“How about your daughter? Aren’t you one speck glad about saving me?”
“Of course I am,” Dad said. “It’s just that I don’t want to encourage your tendencies to play the lady detective. One of these days—”
“Never mind,” I said, “If Flo and I hadn’t done our prowling, we wouldn’t have saved Mrs. Maxwell from getting blown to bits.”
Dad must have been a little grateful that I’d escaped unscathed, because when I brought up the subject of Noah and his ark and what might become of his menagerie, Dad promised to talk to Sheriff Anderson and do what he could for the old fellow. After breakfast was over, my father and I set off to see Noah, stopping enroute at the hospital.
“Oh, I’m so glad you came,” Anne said as she sat at Fred’s beside. “Fred and I owe you so much. I’ve been very unpleasant—”
“Not at all,” I told her. “Anyway, I like folks who aren’t afraid to speak their minds.”
Fred Halvorson told his story, which was consistent with the one we’d heard from the police. Fred was greatly relieved that he was no longer a suspect in the bridge dynamiting.
“How did you learn that Battaglia was a saboteur?” my father asked him.
“Accident,” admitted Fred. “Even before the bridge was blasted, I had seen the fellow around the docks. One day I overheard him talking to Sinclair, and what they said made me suspicious. After getting involved in the mess myself, I made it my business to investigate. I managed to meet one of the saboteurs at the Parrot, but he proved too shrewd for me.”
“You woke up in the alley,” I said.
“Yes, after that I watched a place I’d learned about on Fourteenth Street. Figured I had all the dope. But as I started out to call for the police, someone hit me with a blackjack. That’s the last I remember until I came to at that shack in the woods.”
After we left the hospital, we headed for the ark.
“I confess I don’t know how to appeal to Noah’s reason,” my father said as we approached the gangplank. “Sheriff Anderson insists the ark is a nuisance and must go.”
I paused at the edge of the stream. It had started to rain once more, and drops splattered down through the trees, rippling the quiet water.
“Poor Noah!” I said to Dad, “he’ll be unwilling to leave his home or his animals. This ark never can be floated either.”
“I’d be glad to pay for his lodgings elsewhere,” my father said.
“I hardly think that’s a solution. He’ll never leave his animals behind.”
I crossed the gangplank and called out Noah’s name. There was no answer. Not until I had shouted many times did the old fellow come up from the ark’s hold. His arms were grimy, his clothing wet from the waist down.
“Why, Noah!” I was astonished by his appearance.
“All morning I have labored,” Noah said wearily. “All the commotion last night excited Bessie so badly that the critter kicked a hole in the ark. Water has poured in faster than I can pump it out.”
“Well, why not abandon this old boat?” my father proposed, quick to seize an opportunity. “Wouldn’t you like to live in a steam-heated apartment?”
“With my animals?”
“No, you would have to leave them behind.”
Noah shook his head. “I could not desert my animals. At least not my dogs and cats, or my birds or fowls. As for cows and goats, they are a burden almost beyond my strength.”
“A little place in the country might suit you,” I suggested.
Noah showed no interest.
“Or how would you like a big bus? You could take your smaller pets and tour the United States,” I said.
Noah’s dull blue eyes began to gleam. “I had a truck once,” he said. “They took it away from me after I had made a payment. I’ve always hankered to see the country. But it’s not to be.”
“Oh, a truck might be arranged.”
“It’s not that.” Noah leaned heavily on the railing of the ark. “You might say I made a covenant to keep this place of refuge. The Great Flood soon will be upon us—”
“There will be no flood,” my father interrupted.
I looked at Noah. He was growing a bit red in the face. So was my father.
“Perhaps this is a job for the Reverend Radcliff,” I said in Dad’s ear and hastily bade Noah goodbye.
The next day, accompanied by Flo and Reverend Radcliff, I returned to the ark.
It had required considerable cajoling to get the Reverend Sidney Radcliff away from his discourse on the Little Horn of Revelation and out of his study. It had taken further coaxing to get him down to the docks, into the Maybelline, and across the Grassy to Bug Run. It had not helped that it was raining again.
Eager to escape the damp and the mosquitos, Reverend Radcliff wasted no time in getting right to the point.
“As a minister of the gospel and a Bible scholar,” Reverend Radcliff said to Noah, “I’ll can say with complete confidence that the Holy Word is clear. There will never again be a world-wide flood.”
“I’d be happy to leave this ark if only I could believe that,” sighed Noah. “I’m getting older, and it’s a great burden to care for so many animals. But I must not shirk my duty just because I am tired.”
It was clear that Noah could not be influenced by mere words, so when I looked up at the sky and saw that although rain still fell, the sun had straggled through the clouds and was creating a beautiful rainbow, I took it as a sign.
“Noah!” I said, pointing up at the rainbow. “Don’t you remember the Bible quotation: ‘And I do set my bow in the cloud, and it shall be for a token of a covenant between me and the earth.’”
“‘And the waters shall no more become a flood to destroy all flesh,’” Noah whispered, his fascinated gaze upon the rainbow.
“There, you have your sign, your token,” Reverend Radcliff said briskly.
“Yes, yes,” whispered the old man. “This is the hour for which I long have waited! Behold the rainbow which rolleth back the scroll of destiny! Never again will the flood come. Never again will destruction envelop the earth and all its creatures.”
“How about it, Noah?” I said. “If I make all the arrangements to get you a truck will you leave the ark and take your animals on tour?”
The old man did not hesitate. “Yes, I will go,” he said. “My mission here is finished. I am content.”
We slipped quietly away from the ark before Noah could change his mind. When I looked back at the ark, Noah still stood at the railing, his face turned raptly toward the fading rainbow. As the last trace of color disappeared from the sky, he bowed his head in worshipful reverence. A moment he stood thus, and then, turning, walked with dignity into the ark.
“Poor old fellow,” I said to my father later that evening, as we sat around the supper table eating Mrs. Timm’s Madras curry with saffron rice. Mrs. Timms had gulped down her supper in about ten minutes and hurried off to meet her friend Mrs. Amhurst to see a picture show at the Pink Lotus, so, for once, I had Dad to myself.
“I suppose by ‘poor fellow’ you mean Noah,” my father said. “But I deserve s
ympathy, too. Haven’t I just been knicked to the tune of one very expensive truck?”
“You don’t really mind, do you, Dad?”
“No, it’s worth it to have the old fellow satisfied. After all, that ark did bring me a big story for the Greenville Examiner. After a big scoop like that, a man can feel entitled to a period of rest.”
“You mean, he could afford to turn his attention to his private life? Say, properly propose marriage to the woman of his dreams?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” said Dad and returned his attention to his curry. His face was very red, and I don’t think it was just the fact that Mrs. Timms had employed a rather heavy hand with the red pepper.
“I think you know exactly what I mean,” I said. “And I, for one, will not stand idly by while you let such a queen among women slip through your fingers. I refuse to bring you any more sensational news stories until you make an honest woman of Doris Timms.”
I meant it, too.
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About the Jane Carter Historical Cozy Mystery Series
In this Series
Peril At The Pink Lotus
Room Seven
The Missing Groom
The Oblivious Heiress
A Country Catastrophe
Robbery at Roseacres
Rogues on the River
Box Set One
Box Set Two
The Jane Carter Mysteries: Omnibus Edition (Six Novels)
This quirky historical cozy mystery series is set in the fictional American city of Greenville during the 1920s and features Jane Carter, a young widow who returns home to live with her father after the tragic death of her journalist husband.
Jane’s father owns a local newspaper and wants Jane to take it over someday, but Jane is adamant that she has no desire to be a reporter. Instead, she turns her talent for writing to concocting melodramatic romances for fly-by-night rags who almost never pay on time.
Jane claims that she's holding out for a millionaire before she marries again, but the only man who makes her heart beat faster is Jack, a reporter on her father's staff. Not only has Jane vowed she will never be a newspaperman herself, she's doubly insistent on never again marrying one.
While trying to turn out enough column inches of overwrought romantic bilge to keep her old car on the road, and herself in shoes, Jane runs into the most extraordinary circumstances. In Jane's madcap world, it's a constant round of kidnappings, curses, stolen jewels, counterfeit paintings, and hidden stashes of gold. There's plenty of crime to go around, but nary a murder.
Accompanying Jane on her adventures is her best friend, Florence. Jane and Flo may get into one perilous situation after another, but they are never damsels in distress, because, as Jane puts it, "A real lady always carries her own pocket knife."
All this getting into harm's way alarms her father's housekeeper, Mrs. Timms. Mrs. Timms believes it's her mission in life to turn motherless Jane into a proper lady, but seeing as Jane has just turned twenty-four, Mrs. Timms considerable efforts appear to have been in vain. However, the housekeeper won't give up trying, just as Jane won't give up on seeing Mrs. Timms and her father center-aisling it to the altar and saying, "I do."
This series is adapted from Mildred Wirt’s Penny Parker mysteries, which have fallen out of copyright. The author has made extensive alterations and additions to both the characters and plots of the original novels, but readers familiar with Ms. Wirt’s stories will notice many similarities. More about Mildred Wirt’s Penny Parker Series
These are murderless mysteries. Despite a constant crime wave, there seem to be no murders in the city of Greenville. There may be plenty of peril in the form of kidnappings, heists, and the occasional assault, but nobody ever dies, and justice is always served.
If you like light-hearted historical mysteries with quirky characters and a bit of zany humor, this may be the series for you!
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