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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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“I’ll get my bag.”

“You won’t need it. He isn’t hurt.”

“Oh dear . . .” Then the matter was grave indeed. “Has something happened to Matthew?”

“Yes, but it’s nothing you can fix. Please, come along. I have a cart waiting, if you would be so kind.”

“Give me one moment to grab my coat, and I’ll be right there.”

I didn’t mean to close him out of the house, but he was already on his way back to the cart anyway, and I needed another moment or two to collect myself. I was dressed decently, if not well—having pulled a pair of pants over my sleep shirt before I’d come downstairs; but the clock against the wall informed me that it was just before four in the morning. The world could forgive me a lack of presentability.

I more thoroughly tucked in my sleep shirt, tied my shoes, and threw on an overcoat. The spring evening (or morning, depending) was chilly enough that I could see my breath when I stepped onto the porch, though it’d likely be warm enough come midday that I’d regret the coat. But for that moment, that long, stiff-legged walk to the sheriff’s apparently borrowed transportation, I was glad for it. I was shivering, and it wasn’t entirely the weather.

I climbed up onto the seat beside Duffy, who apologized again, this time for the accommodations. “I would’ve ridden over in the official carriage, but it’s in use just now. This was all I could muster on short notice.” He snapped the reins and the big brown horse pulled us forward.

“Not to worry. This is better than walking, by far. I used to keep a horse for such occasions, but in my old age I find that riding disagrees with my bones.” He didn’t reply, and I felt a peculiar urgency about the silence, so I prattled on. “Besides, it won’t be long before we’re all rolling around in electrical carriages, if the periodicals can be believed. But won’t you tell me what this is about? Without my bag, I’m at a loss. Am I being called as some kind of witness? What’s become of Matthew?”

The sheriff cleared his throat. “He’s been shot dead.”

“By Ebenezer?” I guessed.

“He’s confessed to it, yes. Says it was a matter of self-defense.”

“And what of Felicity?” I asked after Mrs. Hamilton. “Is she all right?”

“No. Matthew has . . . done something to her,” he said vaguely. “Ebenezer tried to stop him, tried to . . . I’m sorry, it’s all a bit unclear right now. We’re still sorting out the facts. Ebenezer swears he’ll talk to you, and no one else . . . but I’m not so sure. The man’s so shaken he can scarcely breathe, much less explain himself, to you or anybody.”

“But Felicity . . . is she dead?”

“Very, yes.”