Valda Bay: Fourth Book in Point of the Circle Series

Parrots

The Wooden Box

1862

Wave upon wave assaulted the body of a man suspended from the side of a cargo ship. His misery was intensified by the ship’s movement. Every time he was slammed against the ship, new abrasions appeared on his body. The salty water burned his gaping and infected wounds. It was not the first time he had been punished in this manner, but it would likely be his last. Poor nutrition, physical abuse and hard work ravaged his body rendering him useless to the operation of the ship and the Captain’s cruel purposes. He heard other men speak of welcoming death; at the time, it was something he could not contemplate. Now, he understood what they meant as he no longer cared what happened to him. Death was indeed better than living the nightmare which had be come his existence.

He wondered when the crew would tire of taunting him as he was being hauled along the ship’s side. Several minutes later, they released his lifeline, ending the ill-fated game. The sound of their laughter was the last thing he heard. He could only watch in silent misery until the ship was out of sight. A sense of peaceful resignation filled his soul and after some time, floating on his back, he surrendered himself to the ravages of the sea. He never saw, nor heard what was approaching from the distance.

Leroy Grazer, was again plagued by his past. He was trying to control his thoughts and quell the fear eating at his insides. Mr. Ezra Buchan, the only solicitor in Valda Bay, sent a missive informing him of an urgent and time sensitive matter which was best discussed in the confidential setting of his law office. Since receiving that request, Leroy’s mind turned into a cyclone of maddening thoughts. He considered the possibility of someone having discovered his whereabouts and were seeking his return from a place he would rather forget. Then he considered perhaps someone was already in route to force his return. Neither was an acceptable solution. He shook his head slightly thinking his thoughts erratic and foolish. That really was not feasible; he was a grown man with a decent life, some friends and he had no real fear left in him anymore. He was no longer a child to be easily manipulated or frightened. He pulled out his pocket watch taking note of the time. He quickened his pace to face the uncertainty that lay ahead.

Passing several buildings, he reflected on how the town had changed. There was increased commerce, a hospital, church, and a recently-built schoolhouse. Decent women married to the local fishermen could be seen doing the marketing and shopping. He saw Mr. and Mrs. James Foster walking across the street; one would never guess they were one of the richest couples in the world. Leroy remembered arriving by ship several years before, a very young man hoping to have a better life than the tortured one he left behind. At that time, he never believed the town would be much more than it was—a rowdy port with no law enforcement, the only women in town were whores working at the Foggy Inn, and housing consisting of cheap rentals in poor condition. Being young, it was easy to adjust to that lifestyle and even then, he kept to himself. The passing of time changed little for him; he still had few close friends despite being well-known in town. His thoughts were interrupted by a man passing who offered no friendly greeting…nothing unusual in that. A few minutes passed and he reached his destination.

The solicitor’s office was an older building which had recently been remodeled. Before entering, he quickly stomped his feet hoping to remove any caked mud from his boots. His clothing was clean but suited for working on a fishing dock. The office door was unlocked and upon entering a little bell announced his arrival. The solicitor saw him immediately and stopped organizing the items from his desk. Being a solicitor for many years, he politely stood up to greet him. He learned years before not to judge anyone by appearance alone.

Good morning, Mr. Grazer. Come in and have a seat. Would you care for a cup of coffee? he asked as he extended his hand in greeting.

Good morning. No coffee for me; I already enjoyed my usual cup. He extended his big calloused hand in polite greeting and could not help but notice the man’s fine clothes and distinguished manner. He was a gentleman.

I am certain you are wondering why I asked to see you this morning, especially with all the festivities planned today in town, Mr. Buchan commented. He proceeded to sit down behind his large oak desk.

Yes, I am, Leroy replied. He sat down in one of the two chairs positioned in front of the desk. Holding his worn-out hat, it took only a few seconds to realize it would have been more proper to have hung his hat on the rack located close to the door. He also hoped he would not stutter, something he tried to overcome since childhood. The stuttering became worse if he was nervous and resulted in people mistakenly thinking him simple-minded. Nothing was further from the truth.

Mr. Grazer, as you already know, Mrs. Caroline Steele passed away in her sleep two days ago; may the Lord rest her soul. She was a real lady and without a doubt will be sincerely missed in the community. He paused briefly as if waiting for some type of acknowledgment to his statement. Leroy unconsciously agreed with the man by slowly nodding his head. He had been out to sea when the dock workers informed him that she died and was already laid to rest. He liked Mrs. Steele and was saddened by her death.

Despite her passing, I remain her solicitor and as such will serve as her representative in all legal matters associated with the estate. Several years ago, she left instructions with me asking I personally conclude her final affairs. I was entrusted with a matter she did not wish to have publicly addressed at the reading of her Last Will and Testament. There was a codicil; I did not prepare it, but I assure you it is in legal order. I have called you here today to discuss the contents of the codicil. I have accomplished everything required of me, with one exception. He reached into his desk drawer and took out a locked wooden box. Mrs. Steele entrusted me with this box and sealed envelope some time ago. She had my assurance that I would present it to you in person. I have no idea what either item contains. I was instructed to ensure you had possession of it within one month of her passing. He placed the box on the desk fully expecting Leroy to reach for it. He was surprised when he did not.

Are you certain I am to have it? Are there no living relatives?

I am very certain you are to have it. Mrs. Steele had no children and her final arrangements do not make any provision for her extended family members.

Leroy simply nodded his head in understanding.

After you accept these items, I will require your signature on a few documents. After you sign, I will be legally released from my obligation to her and this estate. Do you have any questions for me?

I have a couple. Do you know why Mrs. Steele left this box for me and wha…what legal fees or expenses do I become responsible for once I accept it?

She never divulged her reasons to me. There are no legal claims for monetary reimbursement by any person or business associated with this legal transaction. Nothing is personally owed to me and her estate has no outstanding debt. Mr. Grazer, it is quite possible the contents from the box will answer all your questions or unfortunately, create more. I suggest you open it soon and do so in the safety and privacy of your home. Of course, if you should require legal help or advice, I will be available anytime. The solicitor noticed the apprehension on Leroy’s face and decided to offer a word or two based on his experience in similar situations. I would like you to know that I was well acquainted with Mrs. Steele for years. I never knew her to be anything but gracious. She spoke well of you at the time she asked me to see to this matter. While I make certain I have everything ready, is there anything else I can assist you with? He checked and rearranged the documents into a neat stack and stood them on end after slightly pounding them on the table.

No, I do not believe so, perhaps la…later. Leroy tried to remain calm hoping the slight stammer would be ignored.

Excellent. Take as long as necessary to read everything before signing. If you require a third disinterested party read the documents and sign for you in my presence, I can discreetly arrange for someone to do that. He knew several individuals employed as laborers who did not know how to read or write.

I understand, but that will not be necessary, he politely replied. Speaking in a steady and unhurried voice was proving most helpful.

Sir, I leave you to your reading. I will return in a few minutes. He gave the documents to Leroy and placed the ink bottle and quill within his reach. A few minutes passed and Leroy signed at the bottom of the last page. Mr. Buchan returned to the office and secured the documents inside a large floor safe.

Mr. Grazer, I believe that concludes our business. Remember I am always available to assist you if you should require my services.

I certainly will. When Leroy stood up to leave, Mr. Buchan rose from behind his desk to shake hands as protocol demanded.

Leroy walked home certain that the moment he accepted the box, whether it was for good or bad, he became part of something mysterious or perhaps dangerous. He quietly cursed aloud when he considered he may have just accepted Pandora’s Box.

Alliances

Inside a small, dilapidated house located near the outskirts of town, Penny Emerson looked at her reflection in a hand-held mirror. The only lit lantern in the room gave off a soft, yellow glow enhancing her appearance. She was freshly bathed and her styled hair cascaded down her back. Her shoes were well-worn, but she had blackened them making them look much nicer. She ironed her best dress and donned it with care. Her features were pleasant and her shapely figure made her attractive. She projected no evidence of a scandalous and shameful past. The only person in town who knew the secrets of her past was Jasper Stone, her fiancé.

She looked at the small watch pinned to her dress and frowned; he was late in coming home. Reluctantly, she did what she always did; she waited for him. When she heard the clock strike eight times, tears pooled in her eyes. She had been anxiously looking forward to attending Valda Bay’s Founder’s Day Celebration and enjoying several events with him on this historical night. Her empty stomach rumbled interrupting her thoughts, so she went into the pantry and ate a hastily prepared butter and jam sandwich. As she satisfied her hunger, all hope of sharing a special meal with him was dashed; it was now almost nine o’clock in the evening. She knew their relationship was in trouble, but had no idea what happened to create this change in him.

It had been several months since she and Jasper left Portsmouth, New Hampshire. She might as well have never left. All the promises he made to her had not come true. He still refused to marry her, provide a decent home in which to live, attain regular employment, or even spend much time with her. In truth, she had no idea where he spent so much of his time. Reflecting on her situation filled her with despair and fresh tears once again rolled freely down her cheeks. After a few moments, she stopped crying and opened the small window in the living room. She could hear the happy sounds of people celebrating in the distance. She had not been at the window very long before being pleasantly surprised by a firework display over the harbor. The night sky came alive with a kaleidoscope of spectacular colors which entertained her for a while. Long after the display was over, she continued to look out. Things had to change and only she could ensure they did. The choice of how to live out her remaining days was resting on her shoulders.

The residents of Portsmouth, New Hampshire hoped the late spring weather would have resulted in more sunny days and warmer nights. It had improved significantly, but not enough to appease the older people who were now weary of remaining mostly indoors. Mrs. Geraldine Macbeth, not a person to be caught ill-prepared, decided to take a heavy, crocheted shawl with her to ward off a possible night chill. It was not the most elegant one she owned, but it was the most practical. Earlier in the week, she accepted a dinner invitation from Chief Miles Johnson. He mentioned it was an exclusive place requiring dinner reservations to attain a table with an ocean view. With her years of experience, social refinement, and natural grace, she quickly determined her most elegant dress was appropriate. A wide-brimmed, feather and lace hat completed her look. Her drawstring cloth handbag matched her white lace gloves and she felt comfortable with her appearance. She hoped after their meal he would suggest they take a walk. She smiled thinking about her relationship with Chief Johnson and how she was feeling—considering her age she was not Methuselah’s sister, but definitely not a spring chicken. With one last backward glance into the mirror, she closed the door behind her as thoughts of her deceased husband crept into her mind.

Doctor Herbert Ambrose Macbeth died young after being stricken with cholera shortly after their marriage. For weeks, he treated the afflicted during an epidemic and sadly succumbed a few months later to the illness. The young couple never had any children. For years, she grieved his passing and refused all suitors, many considered wealthy. She filled the void in her life with work, hobbies, travel, and participation in charitable causes. Now, years later, she believed her husband would not only approve of her new pursuits, but would encourage them. The happiness that fled when he died was long overdue in her life.

Mrs. Macbeth walked past the reception desk and saw Chief Miles Johnson waiting for her in the lobby. She remembered how he declared his desire to escort her from her room, but she thought it more appropriate to have him wait for her in the lobby. She had seen many disapproving looks after Mr. Paul Keeney, a genteel British gentleman, was seen in her room. Despite the door remaining open and his stay very brief, a few tongues wagged with disapproval. She did not wish to inflict such gossip upon anyone again. Now, in a similar circumstance, she could avoid any unpleasantness. There was no doubt her dinner partner would be waiting because he was always punctual. It was an admirable quality. As she approached, he stood to greet her. He looked at her from head to toe and from his reaction, she knew he had just visually approved of her. It was typical male mannerism; nevertheless, it still made her feel wonderfully feminine and attractive.

Geraldine, you look lovely this evening. The care she took in her appearance was impressive and worth the extra time it required.

Thank you. I can say the same about you, she replied.

We have dinner reservations at The Oyster Shell. The restaurant’s location provides a wonderful view toward the sea and I’ve asked that our table be located by a window. He offered her his arm and she gladly accepted it before continuing to walk. I’ve hired a coach and it is waiting for us right now.

That sounds delightful. The clerk mentioned there is a chill in the evening air. I am certain the coach will be nice and warm.

They walked just a short distance and when the coachman saw them approach, he extended the customary courtesies. The coach was richly decorated and the seats heavily padded. It was indeed warm and there were nice lap blankets readily available for their use. It was worth the extra money to make the evening as perfect as he wanted.

This coach is so elegant. It makes one feel special just being inside it.

It sure does; I have been looking forward to this all day, he replied honestly.

I have been looking forward to it myself. Have you been very busy today?

Oh, you know me. I did manage to enjoy a short visit with Father O’Connor today. He is almost completely recovered from his injuries and has returned to a full work schedule. This is being accomplished despite protests from Mrs. Milburn, who constantly scolds him to rest and recuperate a while longer.

Mrs. Milburn? she questioned.

Yes, Father O’Connor’s cook and cleaning lady. She is certainly attentive to her duties; however, I got the impression he would like to see her find something more meaningful in her life. Not that he has mentioned anything I can put my finger on, but I sense there is something there. Of course, there is absolutely nothing inappropriate happening between Mrs. Milburn and Father O’Connor. To the best of my knowledge, she has never done anything unlawful in her life. Her brother, on the other hand, earned a reputation for being a dubious character. Oh, forgive me for saying such a thing. I suppose that statement is not appropriate since I’ve always been told it’s not polite to speak unkindly about the deceased.

Truth is truth, even for the dead. I’m sure it’s not a secret that his conduct was most distressing for her. Perhaps something or someone will come along and spark her interest and another chapter in her life will begin. Then she may be able to put some of this unfortunate business behind her.

Yes, that is all one can hope for. Do you recall that old expression which states you can pick your friends, but not your relatives? In this case, it was never more accurate.

I do recall hearing it. Tell me, have the authorities learned anything new to assist them in finding Father O’Connor’s assailant? she asked.

As of yesterday afternoon, they had no additional information.

Perhaps their identity may yet be discovered. I fail to understand how anyone could assault a priest. Then there was the unfortunate discovery of a lady obviously murdered in that church a short time later.

I agree with you. What he did not vocalize was his desire to conduct a proper investigation into the matter. In reality, it was very unlikely he would be able to lead or direct an investigation for several reasons. The greatest consideration was his lack of legal authority within the state of New Hampshire. He was retired and many doors once professionally opened to him were now closed. There was also the matter of his age; it could factor against him. There was no doubt his instincts rarely failed him and his mind was sharp as a tack. He was healthy and in good physical shape only requiring spectacles when reading. For the first time, he regretted his retirement and wondered if reinstatement was possible. For a few moments, he was so absorbed in contemplating the possibility of reinstatement, he closed his mind to everything around him. The coach jarred him slightly bringing him back to reality. To his shame, he realized he was not listening to Geraldine’s conversation and had not for some time. He hoped she did not notice his lack of attention. Thankfully, she appeared not to have noticed his distraction. If she did notice, she said nothing about it but rather continued speaking about the tragic events involving the priest.

Have you had an opportunity to speak with the investigator assigned in the case? she asked.

I have; unfortunately, I found him reluctant to share information with me. I was certain my professional experience would count for something, especially since I was present from the beginning of this entire matter.

But you don’t believe that meant anything to the investigator?

That is an understatement. In confidence, I confess to having serious doubts the case will be solved.

What makes you believe the case will not be solved? Geraldine asked with interest; she never could resist a mystery or leave something unfinished.

Father O’Connor cannot remember more than he has already disclosed and the lack of enthusiasm shown by the investigator is most disappointing.

I can certainly understand your sentiment about the investigator. I met the man and I am sorry to say, I was not impressed by his performance. Nevertheless, one can always hope Father O’Connor may remember something that will shed new light on his case. Medical professionals believe that time not only heals the body, but often heals the mind as well.

I was not aware you had met the case investigator, he quickly commented.

Oh, I thought I had mentioned it. Perhaps with everything that happened, it simply slipped my mind.

I hope you are right and eventually things will be made clear. There was little conviction in his voice and he had turned looking out the window. He seemed to suddenly be lost in deep thought.

How much further is it to the restaurant? Mind you, I am enjoying the ride and especially the company; I was just wondering. She noticed a change in his mood and so decided to change the subject. She repositioned her arm snugly inside the crook of his arm. She knew he would be instantly aware of it.

It is about two blocks ahead on the left. The Culinary Corner, the magazine written by food editors and wine connoisseurs, claims the finer restaurants and the most enjoyable dining experiences, can be found on this side of town, he replied.

It sounds like a special place from everything you have told me, she said smiling.

I sure hope it is because tonight is special. He turned looking at her and then gently patted her arm, which was still nestled into the crook of his arm.

What are you really up to? She turned her head a little to the left giving him a playful look from just under the brim of her stylish hat. He returned her look with only a sparkle in his eyes.

Oh, I see, she replied. She succeeded in lifting his heavy mood.

‘Well, you really haven’t yet, but I’m hoping you will soon." He had a twinkle in his eye and a smile that warmed her heart.

Reflections

Captain Erik Foster was filled with disgust and anger after reading a letter he received only moments before. His first mate and friend, Hershel Barnes, had written weeks before informing him about the less-than-favorable reception the crew endured upon arriving in their home port of Valda Bay. It seemed as if bad or scandalous news traveled much faster than good, evidenced by the fact that his crew was considered unsuitable for hire. Barnes had written that a cloud of suspicion voided their employment prospects because ship owners did not want to borrow potential trouble. Despite claims of innocence and the crew never having been charged with a crime, doubt remained in the minds of many. The difficulties his men faced disturbed him greatly; it was all the more reason to hurry home. Now, reading more details about the conflicts at home and how things had not improved for the men, he knew he had to act.

It was disappointing to know good sailing men were refused the opportunity to work on other ships. If Barnes felt compelled to ask for financial assistance, the situation was becoming desperate and his men needed help. He wrote with a proposal that allowed the crew to collect advance wages based on future work. This plan allowed the men to meet their financial obligations and save their pride. For the hundredth time, he kicked himself mentally for not sending his men back home sooner. If he had, they could have been in another port when the ship burned.

It was common knowledge throughout the eastern ports of the United States that his ship had been lost to arson and more importantly, he was deemed to be the arsonist. Sadly, despite efforts to spare his crew, each member was considered a willing accomplice to the deed. He publicly took the sole responsibility for his decisions. He stated that his crew was under his command and had no part in his decision to burn the ship. It was the right thing to do; their years of loyal service demanded no less. He would restore their creditability and would grant the financial proposal his first mate suggested. He felt bad he had not thought to provide assistance to them sooner and decided to rectify that situation immediately.

He reflected upon the days leading up to the events that changed his life forever and impacted so unfavorably on his men. He remembered even the small details of those events and especially the newspaper reporters who acted like hounds on his heels. It seemed as if the front page of every newspaper for miles around was saturated with stories that often created more confusion than clarity in the case. Information of an on-going investigation concerning city corruption was rarely mentioned. Perhaps it was because public corruption was quickly forgotten and in some cases even forgiven. However, a scandalous story involving dock workers, arson, murder and fraud was something everyone found interesting.

There was just something about the everyday man being in legal trouble that gave people amusement. It did not take but a few days following the fire to learn that news of his ship, the JED, and the scandal surrounding it, had already reached the shores of Valda