drew in her breath. “Another murder?” She executed a hasty sign of the cross, and sank down heavily on the chair Samuel had placed for her beside Robert. “Lord help us, who was it this time?”
“The victim is Dieter Hume,” explained my brother. “I'm sure you're acquainted with him, Sarah. He was the deacon at the Reverend Erasmus Mayfield's church.”
Fanny, Robert, and I sat regarding him in stunned silence. Eddie abruptly ceased reading the Police Gazette , and was staring avidly at Samuel, his thin cheeks bulging with gingerbread.
“Was it a robbery?” I asked.
“Apparently not,” my brother said. “His wallet was still in his pocket, and his watch was left undisturbed.”
“Deacon Hume was a guest at the Tremaines' party Saturday night,” I mused. “And didn't you mention that he was a friend of Mr. Logan's?”
“Nigel Logan,” Fanny put in thoughtfully. “You mean the poor fellow who was beaten to death under the Harrison Street Bridge last Saturday night?”
I nodded solemnly, then turned to Samuel. “Surely the two murders must be somehow connected.”
I caught Robert giving me a suspicious glance out of the corner of his eye, but he forbore to question—or censure—this very logical statement. Given the link between the two men, as well as the fact that they had died in the same neighborhood a mere four days apart, surely he could not accuse me of manufacturing “drama and intrigue,” as he was wont to phrase it.
“My thoughts exactly, Sarah,” Samuel said. “Hume's body was found this morning only a hundred yards or so from where they discovered Nigel Logan.”
“Again, only two blocks from our own home,” I muttered.
Robert was beginning to look concerned. “Isn't that unusual for Rincon Hill? I thought that area was relatively free of violent crime.”
“It is,” I answered quietly.
“How was—that is, what was used to kill the poor man?” Fanny asked in a small voice.
Samuel hesitated, fearing, I was sure, that the details might upset my matronly neighbor.
Fanny must have guessed what lay behind his uncomfortable silence, for she said, “Don't think that whatever you have to say is going to cause me to faint dead away, Samuel Woolson, because I'm made of stronger stuff than that. Now, give us the truth of the matter.”
“Yeah, Mr. Samuel,” Eddie said, staring wide-eyed at my brother from his window seat. “What done in the bloke?”
“I'm afraid he was bludgeoned to death, just like Nigel Logan,” Samuel reluctantly explained, regarding Fanny, despite her assurances, with a wary eye.
“Oh, my dear Lord,” she gasped, sitting back in her chair and growing a bit pale. “How horrible!”
Robert eyed her apprehensively. Reaching out, he placed a hesitant hand on her shoulder, obviously unsure how to go about comforting the poor woman.
Fanny gave him a wan smile. “Thank you, Mr. Campbell, but I'm all right. It is a terrible shock, though. It isn't every day two young men are brutally murdered in such a fine neighborhood.”
“Do the police have any idea who was responsible for Deacon Hume's murder?” I asked Samuel.
“Was it the same knuck what done in the other feller?” Eddie asked, the question coming out somewhat garbled due to the large amount of gingerbread stuffed inside his mouth. He had left his perch on the window ledge and was standing expectantly behind Samuel. “Lordy, was there a lot of blood, then?”
“Eddie, please!” I admonished. “Sit down and eat your cake with some semblance of good manners. I'm sure Mr. Samuel will tell us what he knows about this tragedy, if you will but give him an opportunity.”
The boy reluctantly retreated to the window. His large eyesnever left my brother, however, as he once again lowered himself onto the edge of the sill.
“There's not much more to tell,” said my brother. “According to George—my friend on the police force—” he explained for Fanny's benefit, “Dieter Hume's
“The victim is Dieter Hume,” explained my brother. “I'm sure you're acquainted with him, Sarah. He was the deacon at the Reverend Erasmus Mayfield's church.”
Fanny, Robert, and I sat regarding him in stunned silence. Eddie abruptly ceased reading the Police Gazette , and was staring avidly at Samuel, his thin cheeks bulging with gingerbread.
“Was it a robbery?” I asked.
“Apparently not,” my brother said. “His wallet was still in his pocket, and his watch was left undisturbed.”
“Deacon Hume was a guest at the Tremaines' party Saturday night,” I mused. “And didn't you mention that he was a friend of Mr. Logan's?”
“Nigel Logan,” Fanny put in thoughtfully. “You mean the poor fellow who was beaten to death under the Harrison Street Bridge last Saturday night?”
I nodded solemnly, then turned to Samuel. “Surely the two murders must be somehow connected.”
I caught Robert giving me a suspicious glance out of the corner of his eye, but he forbore to question—or censure—this very logical statement. Given the link between the two men, as well as the fact that they had died in the same neighborhood a mere four days apart, surely he could not accuse me of manufacturing “drama and intrigue,” as he was wont to phrase it.
“My thoughts exactly, Sarah,” Samuel said. “Hume's body was found this morning only a hundred yards or so from where they discovered Nigel Logan.”
“Again, only two blocks from our own home,” I muttered.
Robert was beginning to look concerned. “Isn't that unusual for Rincon Hill? I thought that area was relatively free of violent crime.”
“It is,” I answered quietly.
“How was—that is, what was used to kill the poor man?” Fanny asked in a small voice.
Samuel hesitated, fearing, I was sure, that the details might upset my matronly neighbor.
Fanny must have guessed what lay behind his uncomfortable silence, for she said, “Don't think that whatever you have to say is going to cause me to faint dead away, Samuel Woolson, because I'm made of stronger stuff than that. Now, give us the truth of the matter.”
“Yeah, Mr. Samuel,” Eddie said, staring wide-eyed at my brother from his window seat. “What done in the bloke?”
“I'm afraid he was bludgeoned to death, just like Nigel Logan,” Samuel reluctantly explained, regarding Fanny, despite her assurances, with a wary eye.
“Oh, my dear Lord,” she gasped, sitting back in her chair and growing a bit pale. “How horrible!”
Robert eyed her apprehensively. Reaching out, he placed a hesitant hand on her shoulder, obviously unsure how to go about comforting the poor woman.
Fanny gave him a wan smile. “Thank you, Mr. Campbell, but I'm all right. It is a terrible shock, though. It isn't every day two young men are brutally murdered in such a fine neighborhood.”
“Do the police have any idea who was responsible for Deacon Hume's murder?” I asked Samuel.
“Was it the same knuck what done in the other feller?” Eddie asked, the question coming out somewhat garbled due to the large amount of gingerbread stuffed inside his mouth. He had left his perch on the window ledge and was standing expectantly behind Samuel. “Lordy, was there a lot of blood, then?”
“Eddie, please!” I admonished. “Sit down and eat your cake with some semblance of good manners. I'm sure Mr. Samuel will tell us what he knows about this tragedy, if you will but give him an opportunity.”
The boy reluctantly retreated to the window. His large eyesnever left my brother, however, as he once again lowered himself onto the edge of the sill.
“There's not much more to tell,” said my brother. “According to George—my friend on the police force—” he explained for Fanny's benefit, “Dieter Hume's
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