Delivering the Truth by Edith Maxwell Read Free Book Online Page B

Faith held her hand while Annie wept softly into her kerchief. Seated across the rectangle of pews with his parents and younger siblings, Zeb waited until nearly the end of Meeting to talk about his brother. When he was finished, he sank back onto the bench and bent over with face in hands, shoulders heaving.
    Afterward, mourners flowed out onto the grassy area in front of the Meetinghouse. The weather was mild for the season, with sunshine melting snow and encouraging new leaves to open. A gentle breeze ruffled the attenders’ hair. I was glad to take a deep breath of such fresh air after our long winter.
    Several older ladies and I laid out refreshments on a trestle table. The gathering continued on a somber note, with townspeople and friends of Isaiah’s offering their condolences to his parents. A knot of young men gathered around Zeb and told stories about escapades with the brothers when they were younger, bringing a much-needed smile to Zeb’s face. Stephen Hamilton stood alone on the periphery of the gathering, his eyes darting here and there.
    Kevin Donovan approached the food table and helped himself to a gingersnap. The ruddy-faced detective wore a dark suit instead of his police uniform. Perhaps he was a friend of the family. I could tell him about the person I had spied near the factory.
    â€œGood morning, Miss Carroll.”
    â€œIt’s a sad day, Kevin Donovan.” I took a breath. “How is the fire investigation going? Has thee found a cause for it?”
    He looked sharply toward me. “What business is that of yours?”
    â€œI live in this town.” I folded my arms. “A young man from this Meeting died in the awful conflagration, along with other workers. And I heard talk yesterday of someone deliberately setting the fire.”
    â€œWe still seek answers,” he said in a terse voice.
    â€œI have some information thee might want to hear,” I said in a low voice, gesturing to move away from others. “Before the fire began I was near Parry’s factory. And I saw a shape outside the fence creeping in stealth, possibly limping. He held an object.”
    â€œHe?” The detective leaned toward me across the table.
    I was startled. “The person might have been wearing a cape or a cloak. In truth, as it was darkening, I didn’t see so clearly. It’s possible it was a woman.”
    â€œAnd what was the object?”
    â€œIt was flat and thick. About the size of a book. I couldn’t see more.”
    â€œThank you, Miss Carroll. I assume you would have come forth with this information even if you hadn’t seen me here?”
    â€œOf course.” I wondered why I hadn’t, then remembered how full the time had been since that evening, not yet two full days.
    â€œIf you remember, think of any other detail, or see anything suspicious, please let me know.” He smiled. “Alert citizens can be a great help in these kinds of cases.”
    I nodded before he turned away, his head moving to scan the assemblage. Perhaps he was not here as a mourner, after all. And he seemed friendlier than in my past encounters with him.
    I surveyed the table and combined two half-full plates of sweets into one. The punch was running scant, so I made my way around the back of the Meetinghouse where we had left an additional jug in the shade of the roof overhang. My feet rustled dry leaves from last autumn. I had hefted the heavy container when Stephen Hamilton rushed around the far corner. When he spied me he halted.
    â€œStephen,” I called. “We’re happy thee could join us.”
    He strode in my direction. “You Quakers should be quaking at the wrath of the Lord.” Scowling, he shook his Bible in the air.
    I held up my hand, relieved he stopped three feet distant and surprised he was speaking. “Our God is a loving one and is in each person. Now, would thee carry this weighty jug for me?” I held out the