near the hearth. Lamb introduced himself, Wallace, and Rivers, and asked Lydia Blackwellâs permission to sit in her parlor. He sensed that few people bothered to ask Lydia Blackwellâs permission for anything.
âYes,â Lydia said. âYes, sir.â She straightened in her chair.
The policemen sat before her; Rivers sat next to Lamb, a move Lamb thought deliberate. Wallace removed a small notebook and pencil from the pocket of his jacket, flipped open the book, and laid it on his knee.
âFirst, let me say that I am sorry about your uncle,â Lamb said.
Lydia sniffed. âYes,â she said. âWill were a good man.â
âConstable Harris tells me that you arrived home from work this evening and found Will gone.â
âYes. Will never misses his tea. I usually get home from my job a little after five and wash up the dishes.â
âAnd where is Will, usually, when you arrive home from work?â
âSitting here in front of the fire,â she said. She gestured to the wooden chair that faced the hearth. âSmoking his pipe.â
âHe never went out after his teaâsay for an evening constitutional?â Rivers interjected.
âNo,â Lydia said. âHe waits for me to wash up the tea things, then to cook my own meal. Then he sits with me while I eat.â
Lamb noticed that Lydia continued to speak of her uncle as if he were alive. If this was an act to convince him of her grief and devastation, it was a sophisticated one, he thought.
âAnd did you talk while you ate?â Lamb asked. Rivers glanced quickly and queerly at Lamb, as if he thought the question irrelevant.
âYes.â
âWhat about?â
âHe usually tells me about his day, though sometimes he likes to talk to me about his birds.â
âHis birds?â
âYes, sir. Will believes that he can talk to birds and they to him. He can entice a songbird, a sparrow, like, to eat right out of his hand.â
Lamb decided to leave alone for the moment the subject of Will Blackwellâs alleged ability to communicate with birds. He could see, though, how such beliefs and behaviors might have led some of the least-educated souls of Quimby to believe Will a witch.
âHad Will spoken to you in recent days or weeks about something that might have been weighing on his mind?â Lamb asked.
âNo, sir.â
âHow about a dispute he might have been having with someone? Had he a row or an argument?â
âNo. Will didnât spend much time with other people.â
âSo Will hadnât had a disagreement with Mr. Abbott recently?â
The question seemed to surprise Lydia. âNo,â she said quickly. âWill didnât have no disputes with people.â
âBut everyone has disputes with people, Miss Blackwell,â Rivers interjected.
Lydia looked at Rivers with something like wariness in her eyes. Lamb worried that Riversâs bluntness might cause Lydia to fold up her wings. Apparently, Rivers hadnât changed much since the war.
âWill didnât,â she said to Rivers. âHe stayed away from people.â
âExcept for yourself and Mr. Abbott, of course,â Rivers said. He didnât bother to hide the sarcasm in his tone.
Lydia glanced at the floor. âYes.â
Lamb leaned forward in his chair and rested his hands between his knees. âHow did your uncle treat you, Miss Blackwell?â he asked. âDid he treat you well?â
âHow did he treat me, sir?â she asked.
âYes. Was he kind to you? Did he have a temper? You told us that you washed up his tea things every day, even though you had yourself just returned from a full dayâs work. If you werenât prompt in this, might Will have become angry with you?â
âWashing up is one of the jobs I do to earn my keep,â she said, as if the answer to Lambâs question was self-evident.
âSo