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Chapters (206)
  1. Praise for Maplecroft
  2. Title page
  3. Copyright page
  4. Contents
  5. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  6. THESE ARE THE THINGS AN EARTHQUAKE BRINGS
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  12. A DOCTOR, A LAWYER, A MERCHANT, A CHIEF
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  20. Phillip Zollicoffer, Professor of Biology, Miskatonic University
  21. Lizzie Andrew Borden
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  26. BE SURE YOUR SINS WILL FIND YOU OUT
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  29. I CROSS THE MAGPIE, THE MAGPIE CROSSES ME
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  31. Nance O’Neil
  32. THIS KNOT I KNIT, THIS KNOT I TIE
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  37. AND IF YOU HAVE A HORSE WITH ONE WHITE LEG . . .
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  43. THE WORST IS TO BE JUDGED WITHOUT HOPE
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  46. Lizzie Andrew Borden
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  53. BUT NETTLE SHANT HAVE NOTHING
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  55. CUT THEM ON FRIDAY, YOU CUT THEM FOR SORROW
  56. Phillip Zollicoffer, Professor of Biology, Miskatonic University
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  62. HAPPY IS THE CORPSE THAT THE RAIN SHINES ON
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  67. A DWELLING PLACE OF JACKALS, THE DESOLATION FOREVER
  68. Lizzie Andrew Borden
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  71. Nance O’Neil
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  84. Emma L. Borden
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  88. Owen Seabury, M.D.
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  91. Lizzie Andrew Borden
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  93. RIGHT CHEEK, LEFT CHEEK—WHY DO YOU BURN?
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  101. Aaron B. Stewart, Fire Chief, Farthington, Mass.
  102. Emma L. Borden
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  104. Gerald Macintyre, Telegraph Clerk, Western Union
  105. Owen Seabury, M.D.
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  107. Physalia, Z. University I Was Not Now
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  109. DEPART, ALL ANIMALS WITHOUT BONES
  110. Emma L. Borden
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  115. Owen Seabury, M.D.
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  119. Lizzie Andrew Borden
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  130. Owen Seabury, M.D.
  131. Phillip Zollicoffer. Physalia Zollicoffris.
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  137. Christoff Dane, M.D., Ph.D., University of Rhode Island, Kingston
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  139. Emma L. Borden
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  144. Owen Seabury, M.D.
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  150. Emma L. Borden
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  153. FAMILY SLAIN IN MAYFIELD
  154. Owen Seabury, M.D.
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  165. Lizzie Andrew Borden
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  176. Emma L. Borden
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  186. Owen Seabury, M.D.
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  197. Lizzie Andrew Borden
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  205. Inspector Simon Wolf
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So Lizbeth has access to such things. Some nights, I’m sure she’s indulged in something stronger and more fortifying than anything she may pull from her dead father’s liquor cabinet; otherwise, how can she sleep at all? The world has left her high-strung, wound tight. It’s left her defensive, a one-woman fortress with an axe by the door. I’ve seen the axe. Or I’ve seen an axe, here and there around the house. A defensive measure, I’m certain—if a grisly one.

I don’t care; I sleep just fine knowing it’s here, and knowing she’s here, and that she knows how to wield it. I don’t believe she ever wielded it against her parents, but I admit, sometimes it gives me a strange tingle to see it, or touch it. Just in case I’m wrong.

•   •   •

So in summary, Lizbeth might well be prone to downing soothing syrups like Mrs. Winslow’s on occasion. Maybe she helps herself to Emma’s. Maybe she keeps a stash of her own, hidden away. Regardless, I know she takes them—because the drops I administered should’ve produced a longer result.

Maybe that’s what’s in the cellar?

Some people take great shame in confessing that their bodies need chemicals. She doesn’t seem the sort, but she does keep secrets—so how can I say? How can I know?

Well, I can go take a look. That’s how.

•   •   •

I checked all the obvious places where a woman might stash a key: all the drawers, cabinets, ledges, tables, and bookcases. (My God, Emma keeps some strange books. At least, I assume they’re Emma’s. She’s the one with the fondness for biology journals, but how some of these things are related to biology, I’m not sure . . . The connection seems tenuous at best.) I checked under beds and under sinks, beneath flowerpots and inside the dead father’s leftover shrine to distilled spirits. I wonder if they’ve restocked it since his death. Some of the bottles look old. None of them look like they’ve been lately opened. The wool felt that lines the shelves has gone light with a coating of dust.

I’m answering my own question, I think.

But I did find the key.

That’s what I mean to say. I must quit talking around myself. I spend too much time talking around myself, and what I really mean—and to think, I only just complained about people who do that. Physician, heal thyself.

God, I’ve been so distracted lately. Not the kind of distracted that ought to worry Lizbeth (but does, or so it appears), but distracted enough to lose my train of thought. Especially when I stand in the kitchen. Especially when I stand near the door.

And I have a key to that door.