A Lack of Temperance by Anna Loan-Wilsey

Sarah Yates? She was the fourth member of your saloon smashing brigade, correct ?”
    Sarah Yates? I’d never heard the name before. And I’d seen Eleanor McLean several times but hadn’t recognized her as one of the saloon smashers. And when had the women been detained by the police? I had no idea. What else didn’t I know?
    “Sarah left on the 10:14 train Sunday night,” Eleanor said. “As far as we know, she hasn’t returned.” Jackson scribbled something in his notebook and frowned. He swiveled around to face me. “You’re a secretary, right?”
    “Yes,” I said, confused.
    “Here.” He handed me the notebook. The binding was brown with several coffee ring stains on its cover. “Take notes, will you? I can’t read my own handwriting.”
    I was torn. Part of me was aghast at his presumption, wondering whether this was why he had sent for me, while the other half was grateful to have something safe and familiar to do. I flipped the notebook open to the page the policeman indicated.
    “Who’s next?” Jackson asked.
    I read off the names, one by one, and recorded their responses. Miss Halbert, Miss Lawler, Mrs. Watley, and Mrs. Nason were in the library together planning the day’s events. Mrs. Miller had been at the American Bathhouse, Mrs. Anglewood had been out riding, Miss Kiltcher had been meeting with a sign printer in town, and Miss Smith, having packed altogether wrong for the Southern climate, had been dress shopping.
    “And now, Miss Davish, where were you Monday morning ?” Chief Jackson said when he had gone down the entire list of names.
    “I went hiking early, had breakfast with Miss Shaw and Mrs. Fry, then looked for Mrs. Trevelyan. I actually looked in the storage room that morning.”
    “You what?”
    “I wanted to be thorough, so I started in the basement.”
    “Of course you did. Did you happen to see her trunk in the storage room?”
    “No, it wasn’t there then. I assume it was still in Mrs. Trevelyan’s room. But I was wondering—”
    “Well, that about does it for now, ladies.” Chief Jackson smacked his hands together. “Y’all are dismissed, but don’t leave Eureka Springs until I say so. I’m having the depot watched, just in case. And that includes you, Miss Davish. I may have more questions for you.”
    Everyone stood, a collective listless gesture. Small groups formed as the women tried to comfort each other. I couldn’t share in their grief, having never actually met Mrs. Trevelyan, but I sympathized with their loss. The looks of shock, disbelief, and hopelessness I saw as I looked around the room were all too familiar. I had lost a baby brother and both of my parents by the age of seventeen. My closest friend, Myra, had died of influenza just last August. But none had been murdered, not officially anyway. I knew there was nothing I could say or do to ease their pain. Unbidden tears came to my eyes as these buried thoughts rose to the surface. Before anyone could notice, I wiped my eyes and hastily left the room.
    Mary Flannagan was waiting for me outside the door. She motioned me away from the others. “I heard what they said in there. Stupid coppers probably believe everything those women told them.”
    “Why shouldn’t they?” I said, matching her whisper.
    “Because at least four of them lied.” Not hesitating to see if we’d been overheard, I drew Mary into the vacant library.
    “How do you know that, Mary?” My heart was racing, and not only from the sudden exertion.
    “I saw them. I saw Miss Josephine and another woman leaving that lady’s room that morning. Well, that other woman was Eleanor McLean, who just left the parlor a minute ago. They obviously weren’t in jail then.” She was right. I had seen Josephine Piers before breakfast and then again afterward with Eleanor McLean outside Mrs. Trevelyan’s door.
    “That was before you saw the police, wasn’t it?” The maid nodded. “They must’ve gone with the police for questioning,