Read Death in Salem for Free Online Page A

money.”
    William’s brows rose at the sum. He turned to Peggy. “I expect you will have something to say if I don’t agree,” he said. “You are the most willful sister a man could have.”
    A faint chime of recognition sounded in Rees’s head and he wondered if he sounded as arrogant speaking to his sister. Certainly Caroline would say so, and as Rees thought about it he had to admit he probably did. Peggy flapped her hand to brush away William’s complaint. “Well, William?”
    â€œOh, very well,” William said to Rees. “I agree to your terms. And now I must look for Deputy Sheriff Swett so Xenobia can be home by supper.” Clapping his hat upon his head, William fled. Rees bowed over Peggy’s hand, promised to speak with her within another day or two, and followed Twig from the room.

 
    Chapter Five
    Rees and Twig trailed William Boothe east, toward the docks. Rees was surprised by the direction; he’d expected William to head toward the jail. But Twig explained it: William expected to find Deputy Sheriff Swett in one of the taverns that lined the waterfront. William swung down the lane at a rapid pace, keeping a few steps ahead of the other two to deny any association between them. Finally reaching a tavern identified by a large anchor, William stepped through the door. As he walked through the room, several men, some garbed in clothing as fine as his, others in the rougher dress of sailors, made their way to him to offer their condolences. The floor was slick with expectorated tobacco.
    Rees stepped forward, intending to follow, but Twig grasped his arm and pulled him back. Rees looked at Twig in annoyance. “Not my ordinary,” Twig muttered. So they stopped by the door and watched. Rees wished he could hear what was being said, especially after William paused at one table. Most of the men scattered, leaving only one—a gentleman beautifully dressed in a scarlet jacket with a froth of lace at his neck—at the table. Most of the men in this tavern wore plain linen jackets and brightly colored handkerchiefs about their necks just as Twig did. The deputy sheriff looked like some fancy peacock in a flock of common birds. Rees couldn’t help contrasting this elegantly dressed fop to his ragged constable friend at home. William sat down beside him and began talking in low, vehement tones. Deputy Swett rose to his feet with alacrity. Now Rees deeply regretted not shaking off Twig’s hand and following William inside so he could hear the conversation.
    Deputy Sheriff Swett was shorter than Rees by at least a foot. Swett’s breeches boasted polished silver buckles at the knees and he carried a white handkerchief in one hand, an affectation that made Rees immediately dismiss the deputy as effeminate. Sparing neither Twig nor Rees a glance as he strode through the door, Swett left with William and they began tramping back to the jail. Rees and Twig fell into step behind them.
    Although the walk was not a strenuous one, Swett was panting by the time they reached the jail. He coughed into his linen handkerchief and quickly deposited it into an inside jacket pocket—but not before Rees saw the bloody smudges Swett took such pains to hide. Swett found another clean handkerchief and with that he carefully wiped the dust from his black, buckled shoes. As he did so, he said to Rees, “Mr. Boothe here tells me you’re certain that Negress did not murder her master.”
    â€œShe could not have,” Rees said. He spoke politely, knowing now that this popinjay was ill. “Mr. Boothe was stabbed with such force the point of the instrument went through his back. She would not have had the strength. The doctor will attest the same.” He did not say that if the deputy had looked at the body, he too would have seen how much strength must have been required.
    â€œSo, since you seem to know so much, whom do you believe murdered