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. •   •   •

“Shall we, Doctor?”

“I suppose there’s no delaying it further.”

Quickly, before I could make some excuse, I went to the nearest corner of the drape, and lifted it. I tossed it aside in one quick snap of my wrist—revealing the bodies of Felicity and Matthew Hamilton.

Inspector Wolf choked.

I almost did the same. I saved myself by turning quickly away, staring at the floor, and giving my mind a moment to adjust, and my stomach a moment to return to its usual position.

Mere gunshot wounds were bad enough, but the two people on that table had not died from anything half so normal.

Or . . . no.

That was not quite true, not exactly, because when I gathered the strength to look again at the table, I saw that yes, technically Matthew had expired due to an excess of buckshot from a fowler’s gun. His torso was speckled and smashed with dozens of holes, and surely they would’ve killed him or anyone else at such close range. A chunk of his side had been blown free, leaving him with ribs exposed and shattered. He was missing most of one kidney.

I focused on these details because they were the ones I could write down in a report, and no one would question my sanity or my professional qualifications.

Inspector Wolf tamed his retching instinct, and once again having retrieved his handkerchief, he said what I was thinking (and wondering how to suggest it). “It’s as if they were filled with water, until they burst.”

“That’s . . . not an unfair or inaccurate observation.”

“If a disgusting one,” he added, the words muffled by the scrap of fabric he was using to hide his mouth. “I mean, the lad there . . . shot, with two barrels of buck, at a very near distance. But the woman . . . ?”

“Mrs. Hamilton. Yes, she’s . . . bloated,” I said, finding the word I meant.

“Not a small woman in life, I shouldn’t think.”

“No, never the delicate sort. But she’s taken on . . . what must be, I mean . . . I have to assume . . . a significant amount of water. And that does correspond with Ebenezer’s report.” I then realized with a fast jerk of guilt—that I didn’t know what he’d ultimately told the police . . . or whatever higher authority in Boston the inspector represented. I knew I should watch my words more closely.

Wolf filled in a small bit of information. “About how Matthew tried to drown her?”

Ah. So that’s what he’d heard. It was a reasonable thing for Ebenezer to say, when he did not wish to seem mad or unreasonable. What he’d shared with me, he’d shared in confidence. It would not do for me to betray it.

“Something like that,” I said without confirming or denying anything.

Once again the Bordens leaped to the forefront of my mind.