Sister Elizabeth frowned. She repeated much of what Susannah had told him, that Susannah’s childhood epilepsy had been quite different and had abated. “Ten years ago, she was brought to Sisters Hospital-which, as you know, is operated by our order-by her stepfather, Mr. Podgett. She had a severe head injury.” Sister Elizabeth paused. “The story he gave was that she fell in the woods near her home, a place forbidden to her, and was only by the greatest piece of luck found by him.
“Fortunately one of the best physicians on the staff treated her wounds. Later, when he reviewed her history with me, he told me that he believed that she was struck from behind and then fell forward onto a rock or tree root. He thought it miraculous that she survived the blow.”
“Someone struck her?” Tyler asked, thinking that if suspicions were already raised, his task would be easier.
“Her doctor believed so. The front of her dress was muddy, but not the back, and yet the greater injury was to the back of the skull. If she had, for example, struck her head on a tree branch and then fallen back against a rock, the back of her dress would have been muddied and the front relatively clean.”
“Were the police informed?”
“Yes, but I believe their prejudices concerning epileptics made them unwilling to investigate. I doubt they even visited the Podgett home.”
“So she returned home from the hospital?”
“Yes, briefly. Although she survived the injury, she became subject to severe seizures. Mr. Podgett convinced his wife that Susannah might be a danger to the household. Susannah was committed to asylum at the almshouse, and nearly died there. We were still in the process of building this asylum at the time she was injured, but once we were ready to receive patients, she was one of the first Sister Rosaline asked to be moved here, as we could see she was subjected to abuse at the almshouse.”
“As she said, Susannah was grateful for that rescue.”
Sister Elizabeth was silent for a time. She looked between Tyler and Shade, then said, “It would be a great shame to question a miracle, wouldn’t it?”
“Sister, I may need your further-er, unquestioning-help.”
She raised her brows.
“I will not ask you to lie or to hide the truth. In fact, I need you to attest to the truth. But I am… under an obligation to this family, and will need your help to fulfill it. Tonight. I am afraid I must ask you to travel with me in this foul weather. Another life may depend upon it. Perhaps more than a life.”
“Dear me!”
Shade stared intently at her.
“Does he bite?” she asked warily.
“He won’t bite you.”
She suddenly laughed. “Is that the sort of truth I’m to give others tonight? Actual, but limited in scope?”
“Yes, I’m afraid so.”
“Hmm.” She thought for a time, and he suspected, prayed as well. She said, “A small favor for someone who has been so kind to us and has never asked anything in return. All right, if I am not to lie, and as long as you understand that I will tell the full truth if I deem it important to do so, I will come with you.”
“Thank you.”
There was a small commotion heralding the arrival of Susannah’s mother, and they left the office to meet her. When they brought her to Susannah’s room, her grief over the loss of her daughter struck Tyler as genuine and profound. When told of the role of Dr. Hawthorne and Shade, and of her daughter’s last words, she broke down into sobs. Shade leaned against her, something Tyler thought might bring an objection, but she put her arms about him and wept into his soft coat. He shouldn’t have worried, Tyler thought. He had often seen Shade provide comfort.
Tyler waited patiently. Eventually she gathered her composure and allowed Sister Elizabeth to take her into the office. Tyler considered the best course of action to take from here. Knowing the truth, or most of it, and conveying that truth to others in a way they would find believable were two different matters.
He thought this over and listened while Mrs. Podgett discussed the business of making arrangements for her daughter’s burial. The Baileys were not Catholic. Mrs. Podgett had purchased lots in Forest Lawn and planned to be buried one day next to her daughter.
When all was settled, Tyler said, “I know this is a very difficult time for you, Mrs. Podgett, and may become more difficult still, but I gave your daughter a promise, and I am hoping you will help me to fulfill it.”
Whether too numbed by grief to resist, or curious or mindful of her daughter’s last words, she agreed to accompany him to a place she would never have dreamed of visiting, and offered the use of her carriage.
Evidently the porter and the other staff had been speaking to the coachman of the occurrences witnessed at his young mistress’s deathbed, for he made no objection to going out again in a driving rain, nor to a dog entering the carriage. After Sister Elizabeth, Mrs. Podgett, and Shade had entered this luxurious conveyance, he touched the brim of his hat to Tyler and said in a choked voice, “We all loved her, sir. Thank you.”
“For what little I did, you are welcome.”
“Where to, sir?”
“The county jail,” Tyler said ruefully.
“The county-!” He eyed Tyler for a moment, then said, “I’ll be escorting madam in with you.”
“I think that is an excellent idea. Don’t worry, we’ll all be coming back out again.”
“Never a doubt of that, sir,” he said with a nod, and secured the door after Tyler climbed in.
THE SHERIFF’S DEPUTY, ASKED FIRMLY BUT POLITELY BY A leading citizen-who was accompanied by an imposing coachman, a nun, a physician, and the biggest dog he had ever laid eyes on-complied with the request to bring forth one Zeb Nador. He also agreed that he and another deputy would stand guard over Nador, however superfluous they might be, given the looks of Mrs. Podgett’s company. The doctor’s saying that they hoped to solve several murders in the course of the interview made him envision congratulations from his boss.
When he left to retrieve the prisoner, Tyler said, “Mrs. Podgett, I hope this will not be too great a shock to you, but I fear your daughter Amelia is also dead.”
“Oh, yes,” she said calmly. “My husband knew I worried over her, so he sent Mr. Briggs, the detective he had hired to find her when she left us, to contact her again and attempt to convince her to come home. That was several years ago, about the time Susannah was injured. Mr. Briggs found her husband, who said Amelia had died in childbirth and the infant son soon after. He sent her locket and ring home with Mr. Briggs, and asked us not to contact him again, as he was about to remarry. I’m afraid I was so grief-stricken at the thought of losing Amelia and a grandson, I did not attend to Susannah as I should have. And then Andrew was lost at sea… You knew him?”
“I met him briefly. You have every reason to be proud of him.”
“Thank you. I am,” she said, and brought out her handkerchief.
At that moment, the deputy brought in Zeb Nador, who seemed as shocked by the company as Mrs. Podgett was to see him.
“Mr. Briggs!” she exclaimed in surprise. She turned to the deputy. “Why have you arrested Mr. Briggs? He’s a detective!”
“He’s no more a detective than I’m the king of Siam!” the deputy protested. “His name’s Zeb Nador and he murdered a girl last Friday night and will stand trial for it. I thought there must be some mistake, you asking for him.”
“I was with her husband,” Nador said boldly. “And so he’ll testify.”
“He’ll do no such thing!” Mrs. Podgett said. “He was with me. Any one of a hundred people may swear to it-we attended the theater together.”
“He never!” Nador said, turning pale.
“Seldom,” she agreed, “but he did last Friday.”
“Of all the d-” He stopped himself, eyeing Sister Elizabeth uncomfortably.