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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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Emma L. Borden

APRIL 22, 1894

I finished the article I was working on, the one about the mollusks, that I’d promised to send off to the editor of Marine Life last month. I was a little late, but as far out as their schedules run, I won’t worry much about it. If it’s that great a problem, they can refuse to run it, and I’ll sell it to Aquatic Quarterly. The lead biologist they consult is still that fellow at the university, my long-distance friend Dr. Zollicoffer. (To the best of my knowledge, that is.) He’ll see to it that the piece finds publication, one way or another.

Speaking of that great man . . . I haven’t heard from him in months now. I hope he’s well. Perhaps I should send him a letter, or scare up a sample that might entertain him. The samples I’ve sent thus far have been gruesome, but well received.

The last missive I received from him requested more specimens like that one sample . . . the strange and smelly piece I sent him last year. Lizzie was confident that it was a half-rotted version of something ordinary on the beach, but my scientist’s eye told me otherwise. Alas, I haven’t seen any others since. He’ll have to content himself with the one I sent.

I’m glad I passed it along. He seemed to enjoy it, and Lizzie wouldn’t let me keep it in the house. It’d be a pity for the thing to go to waste, unexamined.

It is late. I ought to be asleep, but I’m finding it difficult this evening. I’d blame the balmy weather, for it certainly hasn’t helped; but no, the real problem is Nance—to no one’s surprise.

Not to mine, anyway. Sometimes Lizzie is hard to read.

I know she loves the girl, but for heaven’s sake. If she loves her that much, she needs to invent an excuse and send her packing. Now is really not the time for visitors, least of all rowdy visitors who snoop, badger, fight, and ultimately yowl like a cat in heat, as if I can’t hear through the floors. I’m feeble. I’m not deaf.

I’m sure that she and Lizzie both felt like the opportunity to banish me downstairs was a good thing, and I don’t even care about that. It was my idea, to give them some time alone. I appreciate their impetus to carry on behind my back rather than in front of my face—honestly, I do—but all the tiptoeing around was becoming tedious.

Just go, already.