Thaddeus Lewis Mysteries 5-Book Bundle. Janet Kellough
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glanced around the kitchen with approval — it was tidy and well-organized, and had been brightened with some woven curtains on the windows and a strip of drugget on the floor. There was no ghost of Rachel here —the Jessups had left the taint of death behind when they assumed the business and a new house with it.
“I hope you don’t mind us imposing on you, Minta,” he said. “We could have gone to Varney, but I thought Betsy would find it easier here until she gets a chance to catch her breath.”
Minta turned and smiled at him. “I don’t mind a bit. In fact, I’m delighted to see you, and you’re welcome to stay for as long as you need to. It’s the least I can do — you were such a comfort to us when Rachel died.”
“I appreciate that. You’re sure Seth won’t mind?”
She looked surprised. “Not at all. Why should he?”
“I had the impression that he didn’t think too much of you attending our meetings. And I hope I’m not speaking out of turn, but Rachel once implied that he was pretty canny with his money.”
She threw back her head and laughed — a lovely tinkling laugh that filled the room. “Oh, but he was, he was! And trust Rachel to have said so. Seth’s turned over a new leaf, though, and now he goes to meeting himself.”
“I hear that he’s doing quite well.”
“Yes. Seth’s frugality has paid off. We had enough saved to convince Mr. Chrysler that we were serious about buying the smithy and Seth works so hard that there’s no problem with making the payments. We would be happier if we could rent the other side of the house — that would help — but it has no yard and it’s so close to the house next door that it’s always dark, so nobody wants it.”
“Well, congratulations. And by the way, congratulations on such a fine boy as well.”
“He’s a gem. He’s so good, and never gives me any trouble.”
“Thank the Lord for that, Minta. You’ve truly been blessed.”
“Aye, that I have.” Her face darkened for a moment. “I only wish Rachel could be here to share it. I miss her that much, I’ll tell you.”
With great reluctance, Lewis left the cheerful Jessup kitchen and made his way down the Broadway to the general store, where he met with a pleasant, if voluble, reception.
“Mr. Lewis!” the storekeeper exclaimed. “I didn’t expect to see you. Have they posted you back here?”
“No, I’m afraid they haven’t,” Lewis replied. “Sad to say, but I’m not far — just over on the Brighton Circuit — though I seldom get down this way. How are you? And your good wife?”
Varney insisted that Lewis follow him through to the back of the store and take tea in the sitting room. That was fine as far as Lewis was concerned, for it suited his purposes.
“Elsie! Elsie! You’ll never guess who just wandered into our store!”
Mrs. Varney bustled out of the kitchen. “Oh, my goodness, my goodness. Sit down, Mr. Lewis, sit down. You’ll take some refreshment?”
When Mrs. Varney had piled the table high with tea and johnnycake just out of the oven, she settled down in a chair and beamed at him.
“What brings you here, Mr. Lewis?”
He had had little chance to decide how he was going to broach the subject, but given that Mrs. Varney was apt to cheerfully fill him in on more than he wanted to know anyway, he took a breath and jumped in.
“I’m here to make inquiries regarding Morgan Spicer,” he said. “He has applied to be licensed as an itinerant minister, and of course, part of that process includes an investigation into his character and activities. I thought that perhaps you could enlighten me a little as to his background.”
It wasn’t really the truth, not taken in its entirety, although each part of what he said was fact, and Lewis realized that he was getting far too adept at these little prevarications. One could argue that finding the truth of a great sin was worth the commission of a small one, except that he was only too well aware that it was but the first step on a path that led only downward. He would have to watch himself from now on, but for the moment it served his purpose.
“Oh, Morgan Spicer,” Mrs. Varney said, and settled back in her chair to give full vent to her knowledge. “Well, I can’t really think of any particular black mark against the boy in terms of his character. It’s not like he’s a criminal or a drunkard or, heaven help us, a womanizer. It’s just that, really, nobody has ever liked him much. It’s not a case of character, it’s more a case of … personality, I suppose.”
Lewis nodded. “He does seem to be a difficult person to warm up to, but I don’t believe that should be held against him.”
“I do know that he seemed very smitten with the Jessup girl who died, but then all the young men were. Why, they were just like flies around a saucer of honey, and honestly, you do have to wonder about what sort of girl she was, to attract so much attention, don’t you?”
“She was a very pretty girl,” Mr. Varney said mildly.
“Oh, you. You always did have an eye for a pretty girl. Why, some of them come into the store and you practically fall over yourself to wait on them.”
“Ah, yes, that may be true, but truth to tell, I married the best of the lot.”
Mrs. Varney simpered a little at that, and Lewis decided it was time to steer the conversation into more informative areas. “Tell me,” he said, “did Spicer grow up here?”
“Oh, yes, although he had a most unfortunate start in life. His mother died when he was born, his father disappeared to who knows where, and he was raised by an uncle who already had more children than he knew what to do with. Young Spicer didn’t have much of a life there.”
“And did he go to school here, as well?”
Mrs. Varney furrowed her brow as she tried to recall the details of what she knew about Morgan Spicer. “Yes … Well, yes and no. He may have gone to the school for a couple of years, but I don’t think he was any more than eight or nine when he was put to work sweeping out the livery stable. I seem to remember him being there when he was a very small boy. Of course, old Conrad Spicer put all of his own children to work as well, so I don’t suppose you can say he was particularly unfair to Morgan.”
That would explain Spicer’s inability to read very well.
“Did Spicer continue working at the livery stable?
“Oh, no. He had a number of jobs.”
“He worked at the distillery for a while,” Mr. Varney prompted.
“Yes, that’s right, at the distillery, and at the mill … and where else?”
“Why so many places?” Lewis wanted to know.
“Oh, he just couldn’t get along with anybody. Nobody liked him. And he always tried to seem important, no matter what he did. Puffed it up and put on airs, tried to make out that he had been given some sort of important job, when usually all he was allowed to do were the most menial tasks. I know the men at the tannery made dreadful fun of him. The Caddick boys called him Major Morgan. He was always the first man to be let go whenever there was any slack in business.”
“I think he was a good enough worker, though,” Mr. Varney ventured.
“I didn’t say he wasn’t, dear. I just said that nobody liked him.”
“So …” Lewis said. He tried to keep his voice even, to not give away the fact that his next questions were crucial ones. “Where was he working when I was here?”
“Oh, eventually he settled into working for old Mr. Kemp, the tombstone maker,” Mrs. Varney said. “It was a good job for him — chiselling away at the granite all day. He didn’t have to