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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
  7. •   •   •
  8. •   •   •
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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
  22. •   •   •
  23. •   •   •
  24. •   •   •
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  26. BE SURE YOUR SINS WILL FIND YOU OUT
  27. •   •   •
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  29. I CROSS THE MAGPIE, THE MAGPIE CROSSES ME
  30. •   •   •
  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
  47. •   •   •
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  52. •   •   •
  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
  57. •   •   •
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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
  69. •   •   •
  70. •   •   •
  71. Nance O’Neil
  72. •   •   •
  73. •   •   •
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  84. Emma L. Borden
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  86. •   •   •
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  88. Owen Seabury, M.D.
  89. •   •   •
  90. •   •   •
  91. Lizzie Andrew Borden
  92. •   •   •
  93. RIGHT CHEEK, LEFT CHEEK—WHY DO YOU BURN?
  94. •   •   •
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  101. Aaron B. Stewart, Fire Chief, Farthington, Mass.
  102. Emma L. Borden
  103. •   •   •
  104. Gerald Macintyre, Telegraph Clerk, Western Union
  105. Owen Seabury, M.D.
  106. •   •   •
  107. Physalia, Z. University I Was Not Now
  108. •   •   •
  109. DEPART, ALL ANIMALS WITHOUT BONES
  110. Emma L. Borden
  111. •   •   •
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  115. Owen Seabury, M.D.
  116. •   •   •
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  119. Lizzie Andrew Borden
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  130. Owen Seabury, M.D.
  131. Phillip Zollicoffer. Physalia Zollicoffris.
  132. •   •   •
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  135. •   •   •
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  137. Christoff Dane, M.D., Ph.D., University of Rhode Island, Kingston
  138. •   •   •
  139. Emma L. Borden
  140. •   •   •
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  144. Owen Seabury, M.D.
  145. •   •   •
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  150. Emma L. Borden
  151. •   •   •
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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
  206. •   •   •

He turned his attention to me, understanding plenty at a glance, I’m sure. My pupils no doubt told him plenty in return. “I won’t insult you by being overly delicate: I assume the cause is an opiate? One you’ve made a recent habit.”

I dabbed at my eyes with the bloodstained tea towel. “She’s been drugging me, at night,” I said, cocking my head toward Nance, though I hated to implicate her. “I don’t know what she used. I can go upstairs and search her things and see, or maybe she took something from Emma’s cabinet.”

He raised a quizzical eyebrow at Emma. “But you’re not inclined to taking the drops or syrups, are you?”

“Not routinely. But sometimes, when I absolutely must sleep—and the cough is more than I can bear.”

“I appreciate that you’re not the sort to become dependent on them. They fog the brain,” he said, casting another appraising look at me. “And your studies must prohibit it.” She nodded primly, and for a moment I nearly hated her. Always the teacher’s pet, wasn’t she? And she’d always disliked Nance, so here was one more thing to lay at Nance’s feet.

I fought the feeling down like bile. It wasn’t fair or kind, and we were all just trying to understand, after all. I swallowed so hard that I almost banished the great lump in my throat, and I said, “I’m not accustomed to these things, either. It’s hit me awfully hard.”

“As did something else, if I must judge by your nose.”

“The banister. I fell down the stairs, coming to check after Nance. I . . . it was so very hard to wake up.”

“Depending on what she used, it’s a wonder you managed at all. What was she looking for, down there?” he asked, returning his attention to Nance, who never stirred. He took her wrist in his hand and as he listened to my words, he listened for her heart.

I collapsed into the seat across from Emma, to the doctor’s right. I was worn out, and telling the truth required my full attention. I couldn’t speak clearly and stand up at the same time.

“She wanted to see inside the cellar. I wouldn’t let her; that’s why she began drugging me. She stole the key from around my neck, and she was trying to keep me asleep long enough to investigate without my interfering.”

Calmly, more like a priest than a physician, he asked question after question—sometimes watching me, sometimes watching Nance.

“Why did you want to keep her from the cellar?”

“Because it called her. Or something inside the cellar called her; that’s what I mean.” I was so tired I could hardly keep my eyes open, now that the first flush of mortal panic was finished with me.

“What are you collecting in the basement, Miss Borden?”