BooksBarbecue
Back Maplecroft Save as PDF
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. •   •   •
  9. •   •   •
  10. •   •   •
  11. •   •   •
  12. A DOCTOR, A LAWYER, A MERCHANT, A CHIEF
  13. •   •   •
  14. •   •   •
  15. •   •   •
  16. •   •   •
  17. •   •   •
  18. •   •   •
  19. •   •   •
  20. Phillip Zollicoffer, Professor of Biology, Miskatonic University
  21. Lizzie Andrew Borden
  22. •   •   •
  23. •   •   •
  24. •   •   •
  25. •   •   •
  26. BE SURE YOUR SINS WILL FIND YOU OUT
  27. •   •   •
  28. •   •   •
  29. I CROSS THE MAGPIE, THE MAGPIE CROSSES ME
  30. •   •   •
  31. Nance O’Neil
  32. THIS KNOT I KNIT, THIS KNOT I TIE
  33. •   •   •
  34. •   •   •
  35. •   •   •
  36. •   •   •
  37. AND IF YOU HAVE A HORSE WITH ONE WHITE LEG . . .
  38. •   •   •
  39. •   •   •
  40. •   •   •
  41. •   •   •
  42. •   •   •
  43. THE WORST IS TO BE JUDGED WITHOUT HOPE
  44. •   •   •
  45. •   •   •
  46. Lizzie Andrew Borden
  47. •   •   •
  48. •   •   •
  49. •   •   •
  50. •   •   •
  51. •   •   •
  52. •   •   •
  53. BUT NETTLE SHANT HAVE NOTHING
  54. •   •   •
  55. CUT THEM ON FRIDAY, YOU CUT THEM FOR SORROW
  56. Phillip Zollicoffer, Professor of Biology, Miskatonic University
  57. •   •   •
  58. •   •   •
  59. •   •   •
  60. •   •   •
  61. •   •   •
  62. HAPPY IS THE CORPSE THAT THE RAIN SHINES ON
  63. •   •   •
  64. •   •   •
  65. •   •   •
  66. •   •   •
  67. A DWELLING PLACE OF JACKALS, THE DESOLATION FOREVER
  68. Lizzie Andrew Borden
  69. •   •   •
  70. •   •   •
  71. Nance O’Neil
  72. •   •   •
  73. •   •   •
  74. •   •   •
  75. •   •   •
  76. •   •   •
  77. •   •   •
  78. •   •   •
  79. •   •   •
  80. •   •   •
  81. •   •   •
  82. •   •   •
  83. •   •   •
  84. Emma L. Borden
  85. •   •   •
  86. •   •   •
  87. •   •   •
  88. Owen Seabury, M.D.
  89. •   •   •
  90. •   •   •
  91. Lizzie Andrew Borden
  92. •   •   •
  93. RIGHT CHEEK, LEFT CHEEK—WHY DO YOU BURN?
  94. •   •   •
  95. •   •   •
  96. •   •   •
  97. •   •   •
  98. •   •   •
  99. •   •   •
  100. •   •   •
  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. •   •   •
  112. •   •   •
  113. •   •   •
  114. •   •   •
  115. Owen Seabury, M.D.
  116. •   •   •
  117. •   •   •
  118. •   •   •
  119. Lizzie Andrew Borden
  120. •   •   •
  121. •   •   •
  122. •   •   •
  123. •   •   •
  124. •   •   •
  125. •   •   •
  126. •   •   •
  127. •   •   •
  128. •   •   •
  129. •   •   •
  130. Owen Seabury, M.D.
  131. Phillip Zollicoffer. Physalia Zollicoffris.
  132. •   •   •
  133. •   •   •
  134. •   •   •
  135. •   •   •
  136. •   •   •
  137. Christoff Dane, M.D., Ph.D., University of Rhode Island, Kingston
  138. •   •   •
  139. Emma L. Borden
  140. •   •   •
  141. •   •   •
  142. •   •   •
  143. •   •   •
  144. Owen Seabury, M.D.
  145. •   •   •
  146. •   •   •
  147. •   •   •
  148. •   •   •
  149. •   •   •
  150. Emma L. Borden
  151. •   •   •
  152. •   •   •
  153. FAMILY SLAIN IN MAYFIELD
  154. Owen Seabury, M.D.
  155. •   •   •
  156. •   •   •
  157. •   •   •
  158. •   •   •
  159. •   •   •
  160. •   •   •
  161. •   •   •
  162. •   •   •
  163. •   •   •
  164. •   •   •
  165. Lizzie Andrew Borden
  166. •   •   •
  167. •   •   •
  168. •   •   •
  169. •   •   •
  170. •   •   •
  171. •   •   •
  172. •   •   •
  173. •   •   •
  174. •   •   •
  175. •   •   •
  176. Emma L. Borden
  177. •   •   •
  178. •   •   •
  179. •   •   •
  180. •   •   •
  181. •   •   •
  182. •   •   •
  183. •   •   •
  184. •   •   •
  185. •   •   •
  186. Owen Seabury, M.D.
  187. •   •   •
  188. •   •   •
  189. •   •   •
  190. •   •   •
  191. •   •   •
  192. •   •   •
  193. •   •   •
  194. •   •   •
  195. •   •   •
  196. •   •   •
  197. Lizzie Andrew Borden
  198. •   •   •
  199. •   •   •
  200. •   •   •
  201. •   •   •
  202. •   •   •
  203. •   •   •
  204. •   •   •
  205. Inspector Simon Wolf
  206. •   •   •

Oddly, I was not particularly worried by this. I was only interested in the glint of the light on the pretty rocks, and the clicking sound they made when I put my hand into the barrel, gently so I wouldn’t cut myself on any sharp edges. Clicking together, the pebbles and stones and glass. Clicking like crab claws, or beads on a necklace.

Clicking like a necklace.

But that doesn’t make any sense, does it? Maybe not. Still, that was what sprang to mind, and something about the randomness of it all made me cling to it. It was too specific and weird to lack meaning.

I might’ve mulled this over further—or then again, I might’ve stood there all night, my fingers running through the barrel’s contents, drawing little furrows, making tiny mounds and digging little holes—except that Wolf joined me once again, having finished his examination of Matthew’s bedroom.

He said my name, loudly. He insisted that it was the third attempt to rouse my attention, and he asked if I was all right, but of course I was all right. Of course he didn’t call my name thrice. I’m confident he must have been mistaken.

No, that’s not so. I’m not confident of anything, and the thoughtful look on his face suggested that I would dismiss his concern at my peril.

“Of course I’m all right,” I said in response, shoving my hands into my pockets, and clenching, unclenching my fists. My hands were cold from playing with the barrel’s lifeless, brittle contents.

“I should hope so, because we’ve one stop left before I can return you to your routine, Doctor. I could’ve done this much of the trip myself, though I was happy for the company; no, sir, I need you for the funeral home. I want you to tell me about the bodies.”

“Ah.” It was all I could think to say.

My hesitation likewise gave him pause. “Ah? Is there . . . some reason you’d prefer to bow out?”

“No, no, that’s not it,” I said quickly. “I’m sorry—I only had a moment of moral confliction.” I reached for the door and opened it, letting the real world, the real ocean air, breathe into the store.

“Moral confliction? Of what sort?”

“I’m terribly curious, that’s all. I do indeed want to see them,” I asserted, and this was true. “But it would be unseemly to get too excited about it, don’t you think?”

“Not at all.”

“Are you certain?”

He shut the door and locked it behind us. “We should always be excited about the pursuit of truth.”

We stood there, taking in the sun, and together, I believe, we were both relieved at the normalcy of the morning on the shop’s narrow stoop. With the door closed, there was no sign of what had gone on within.