Cooper smiled again. “I do. One last question. Did you know of a routine or process Pierre had to prepare for a case?”
“Yes,” came the instant reply. “I could guess what he was working on by what he was reading. And he was careful about checking out books from the library. One can get records now, although it’s only supposed to be the authorities, but let’s face it, a computer whiz can get everything. Often he would ask me to buy books. They would be on my credit card, not his. Again, he often said he was up against people with a lot to protect. He needed to fly under the radar.”
“Any recent purchases?”
“The Genius of Birds by Jennifer Ackerman,” came her reply. “And books on Native American customs. He was showing an interest in tribal regalia, accurate clothing that a person must wear if they wish to perform in festivals. He knew about the Indian children being recorded as colored back in the early twentieth century. Colored was the legally acceptable word and it obviated recognition of tribal blood, affiliation. He was making quite a study of the Virginia tribes, their legal disappearance, but I can’t imagine where it would have led.”
“That’s something. Certainly out of the ordinary,” Cooper mumbled, then looked at an ornate wall clock. “I have taken up so much of your time. Thank you.”
“As I said, Deputy, I nattered on but you made me feel so comfortable.”
Cooper stood up, and Dr. Ely did also. She was nearly as tall as Cooper. The officer handed her card to the doctor, who read it, tucking it into her front pocket.
“Call me, Dr. Ely. If anything should occur to you, even if it seems not important, anything at all about Pierre, call me. We want to find his killer. No matter how odd something seems, no matter how unbelievable someone’s murder, I promise you it makes sense to whoever committed the crime. Once we know why, we can almost always find who.”
February 14, 1786 Tuesday
“Wore the Mistress’s sapphire necklace.” DoRe relayed this compelling information to Bettina, whom he had come to visit.
Getting off Big Rawly, never easy, was made a bit easier when DoRe asked Maureen Selisse if he could go over and pick up a small enclosed carriage. Ewing Garth, knowing Mrs. Holloway wished one for herself, was happy to lend it to the wealthy woman to use. If she really liked it, then her young, handsome husband would find one for her or arrange to have one built in Philadelphia. Everyone knew the order would go to Philadelphia, after a show of considering alternatives, for Maureen needed to appear extremely fashionable, and that meant the best, most expensive small conveyance possible, one that would certainly outshine the Garths’.
DoRe ran the stables, knew what he was doing, and was finally coming back to life after the death of his beloved wife and the disappearance of his son, Moses. These punishing events both happened within a year and a half.
Bettina sat across from the big, middle-aged man in the impressive carriage harness room, the potbellied stove keeping it just right as the beginning of a light snow started outside.
And the stable help was working at the three stables but did not pop their heads into the wood-paneled room. Everyone at Cloverfields knew Bettina set her cap for DoRe. Not only had she set her cap, she commanded Serena and a few of the other girls to cart down a feast. Bettina believed the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach.
“Mrs. Selisse’s sapphire necklace? Lord, Lord.” Bettina exhaled.
“Can’t get used to calling her Mrs. Holloway. I slip, too. Bettina, I didn’t know where to look when Sheba came down to the stables wearing that fur, the beaver skin, and a sapphire necklace. She’s the only slave got a fur, I can tell you that but then we all know Sheba’s not exactly a slave, according to her.”
“But where was Mrs. Selisse? That witch wouldn’t let Sheba wear her sapphire. Anyway, Sheba has some jewelry of her own. She gets something every Christmas and I know it’s hush money. I know it.”
He bit into a biscuit, so light it melted in his mouth. “No one can cook like you.” He beamed, then cut into a piece of pork braised on one side, with tiny slivers of lemon rind also on it.
Bettina had dried fruits, canned vegetables, all manner of flours. She wasn’t considered one of the best cooks in the state of Virginia for nothing, and that alone set Maureen Selisse off. She wanted the best cook, the reputation for the best table and entertainments and, of course, now the best small carriage.
“The Missus was down on the James at the foundry. She is running the business. She’s running it as well as Francisco. She pretends that Jeffrey,” he named the young, handsome husband, “is the boss but we all know that story.”
“Yes, we do.” Bettina slid more biscuits his way.
“I feel a little sorry for him. Yes, he married himself a rich, rich widow, but he’s at her beck and call and that’s no life for a man. It’s a funny thing, Bettina, he goes on down to the cabinetmaker’s shop, builds some things. Works right along with the men there. He makes her pretty things and she oohs and aahs over them but tells him not to get too close to those people, as she calls us. He’s always good to all of us.”
“Just so he isn’t good to the women. We know what happened last time.”
“Poor, poor Ailee. The last in a long line of pretty girls that Francisco played with. And my poor, poor boy.”
Bettina, voice lowered even though no one was around, said, “Moses is doing well. The man and wife up there, the man Charles was in camp with, Captain Graves, I think is his name, they write back and forth. Moses works hard. Has made friends with the freemen there, and there are a lot of them.”
Moses, thanks to John and Charles, now lived and worked in York, Pennsylvania.
A soft smile creased DoRe’s face, his silver mustache curved upward. “He’s a good boy. He was a good son. I often wonder if his mother had lived, could she have talked sense to him? I couldn’t. That boy lost his mind over Ailee. Lost his mind.”
“She was extremely beautiful and he was young.” Bettina smiled kindly. “And I don’t know if your angel wife could have stopped him. Things happen, DoRe.”
He cleared his throat. “You help me find peace, Bettina.” He put down his fork, his plate was clean. “I am thinking I can live again. I know my boy’s alive and that lifted a heavy weight. And I thank you, Bettina, I thank you with all my heart for getting me little messages, for calming my spirit about Moses, and right under Mrs. Selisse’s nose.” He laughed, as did she.
“Time heals us,” Bettina simply said. “When my Norbert died, I never thought I would smile again, but a year passed, then two and three. You heal.”
“Norbert was so much older than you, Bettina. You are a woman in the prime of life.”
“Thank you.”
“You know what I think?” He leaned toward her. “I think your Norbert and my Claudia, I think they want us to live. We, I don’t know, we kind of insult them if we don’t.”
“I’m mighty glad to hear that, DoRe. You have suffered enough.”
He smiled a big, broad smile at her. Yes. He was going to court her but he would be slow. A man can’t be too careful and they were owned by different people. It was complicated but not impossible.
Catherine burst into the stable, her son running after her. She opened the carriage room door.
“DoRe, how good to see you.”
“Miss Catherine, you spoil me. Yes, you do.” He stood up as she took his hand.
“JohnJohn, this is DoRe. He is head man at Big Rawly. All the horses, all the carriages and sleds, DoRe is in charge of it all.”