Mysterical-E

He Said, She Says

The Rule of Thumb

by KB Inglee

On the water between Washington City and Boston, June 1882

Emily had no idea why Charles had chosen to travel by ship to Boston this year. It would take forever and she would have to dress for dinner. This was the start of the summer break and she did not wish to waste it traveling.. The train would get them there in a day.

Charles treated her objections as though she were simply afraid to be on the open ocean.

"We can leave just a few blocks from the house and arrive a trolley ride from your parents’ home," he had told her. "We will never be out of sight of land. You will enjoy it."

There was no accounting for what husbands wanted, so she decided to make the most of it. Let him carry the bags filled with the books she would need to amuse her during the long days at sea.

Now, sitting on the deck of the Addie B. watching Washington recede, she though he might have something. All she had to do for the next three days was sit here, watch the shore go by and read. And there was always the possibility of a shipboard romance. That would show Charles.

"Isn't it beautiful?" asked the young woman in the chair next to her, pointing to the welcoming face of the white house high on the hill.

"That must be Mount Vernon. It's splendid," said Emily.

"I recognize you," said the young woman. "Your husband is Charles Lawrence, the detective. Papa pointed the two of you out to me in court just last week. I'm Alice Lee."

Emily never bothered to mention that she, too, was a detective, and that the agency was owned by them jointly.

"Who is your father? Is he a lawyer?" asked Emily, hardly caring what the answer would be.

"Papa is Judah Lee." Emily recognized the name. She and Charles had conducted an investigation for Lee and Watkins two years ago.

"Do you sail often?" asked the young woman.

"I went to Europe as a girl, but that's all. We usually travel by train."

"I'm going to Boston to visit my grandfather. That's where you are going as well?"

Emily nodded. "Yes, Mr. Lawrence and I spend the summer with my parents."

"I love being on the water. Smell the air. Isn't it wonderful?"

The air carried the scent of new mown hay, damp earth and something else Emily could not identify. Perhaps it was the water itself stirred up as the ship passed through it. It was far more pleasant than the smell of the Potomac near home.

Miss Lee glanced back at the mansion as they left it behind them. "I found the nicest stature of George Washington to take to my grandfather as a house gift. I've set it up on the desk in my cabin if you wish to see it. This evening I will do a watercolor of the mansion as it looked from the ship. He would love that. He has made a study of our first president, and is writing a book."

"You're not traveling alone are you?" asked Emily.

"Heavens, no. Mr. and Mrs. Watkins are my chaperones. He and my father are partners in the same law firm.” The girl stood up and straightened the peacock sash of her white summer dress. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Lawrence. After dinner, you must come to my cabin to see the statue."

The soporific chug chug of the engine, the persistent rocking of the ship, and the warm afternoon sun lulled Emily into a deep sleep. When she awoke, Charles had taken the seat next to her and was engrossed in a two-year-old copy of Nature.

"What are you reading about?" she asked.

"This fellow Faulds may have something. Says you can identify people by the lines on their fingertips. Take a look at it when I'm done."

"We're on vacation," said Emily crinkling her nose. "I'm not reading anything for work. Just novels for the next two months."

She watched through drooping eyelids as an elderly couple strolled the deck arm in arm. A mother held her child by the hand and pointed out the houses along the shore. Miss Lee, the peacock sash of her light summer dress unmistakable, was talking to an officer in full uniform wearing gold rimmed spectacles. The purser, Mr. Smith. She laid her hand lightly on his arm and turned away. A shipboard romance, indeed, but not for Emily. She picked up her novel.

~~oOo~~

Emily was reluctant to trade the cool evening air of the deck for the hot dining room. Her brown linen looked drab among the festive dresses of the other women. A bit of white lace at the neck and wrists did little to improve it. The Watkins, seated at their table, seemed nice enough, if a bit stuffy. Alice Lee behaved for all the world like a woman in love, glancing at the officers' table and smiling to herself now and then. Mrs. Watkins noticed and laid her hand on Alice's shoulder and shook her head. Alice blushed and lowered her eyes. Why did young people think others didn't notice their improprieties?

Charles' conversation with Mr. Watkins struck Emily as more of an interrogation than polite dinner conversation. That was one of the drawbacks of being a detective.

"Didn't I see you in court last week?" asked Charles. He knew full well he had because he had spoken to him in the hall after Charles had testified for another client.

"Yes, indeed. A stroke of genius, if I do say so myself. You remember Jude Kleeg? Was supposed to have robbed the District Bank and Trust?"

"You were his defense lawyer, if I remember rightly."

"Got him off. Reasonable doubt the jury said." Mr. Watkins puffed out his chest in a motion that reminded Emily of the pigeons on the mall.

"Wasn't the bank guard injured in the robbery?" asked Emily.

"Humph. Said he was. Had a doctor attest to it. I proved in court he was faking. Had nothing to do with the case anyway because Kleeg wasn't anywhere near the bank at the time it was robbed. Had a…er…well… a young woman say he was with her."

Emily knew that the money from the robbery would pay for a high quality defense team, and perhaps a witness as well.

Mrs. Watkins reminded her husband that they were all on vacation and it was time to put aside the dark world of crime. "Will you spend the whole summer in Boston?" she asked Emily and Charles.

~~oOo~~

As she walked the deck in the dusk, Emily dreamed of the green trees, fresh vegetables and the flowers of her mother's garden. Lights twinkled from the shore and the water slapped at the bow of the boat.

"This might not be so bad, Charles." She murmured to her husband who was nowhere in sight. "The peace is refreshing."

~~oOo~~

The next morning Emily picked up one of the novels she brought with her, read a few pages, sett it down on the deck chair and walked once around decks of the Addie B. Wondering how she had turned from content to bored so quickly, she picked up Nature and read it from cover to cover. She studied her own fingertips to understand the pattern of swirls she found there. Then she moved on to study Charles' fingertips. The Watkins were willing if skeptical victims of her magnifying glass. A magnifying glass on living fingertips was not as satisfactory as having the prints on paper. She tried drawing the intricate pattern of loops and swirls. Most unsatisfactory.

Moving the stack of books off the bedside table she used the tiny space as a laboratory, with a bottle of ink, a sponge. There was so little space in the cabin that she had to set a basin of soap and warm water on the floor at the foot of the bed. She began by making prints of the fingers on her left hand, and then Charles' prints. When she had perfected the method of taking prints to her satisfaction she invited people in to capture the prints on paper.

This was more interesting than any of the novels she brought.

Before the mid day meal, Alice invited Emily to see the statue of George Washington, a solid chunky bronze thing with more mass than grace.

"It's lovely," Emily lied. "Your grandfather should adore it. Especially since it is from you."

Emily wanted to comment on how often she had seen Alice in company with the purser, and caution her. She began timidly. "Mr. Smith is a good looking young man. He seems familiar to me. Have you met him before?"

"No, but we took to each other as soon as I boarded the ship. He shook my hand as I stepped off the gang plank and held it for just a bit longer than necessary. I like him a lot."

"It shows. It might be wise to be more discreet."

Alice laughed. "Mr. Watkins said much the same thing this afternoon. I think Mrs. Watkins put him up to it."

Emily changed the subject. "Would you be willing to let me take a print of your finger tips? It's for a study I am doing."

Alice was not the least bit interested in why Emily would do such a strange thing, and assented at once.

~~oOo~~

Emily had done as much as she could with her finger print study given the tools she had at hand, a poor magnifying glass, some cotton lint, and a bottle of ink and a basin of warm soapy water so her victims went away with clean fingers. She had finished the first novel, and had put the second aside. She began sketching the other passengers. Mr. and Mrs. Watkins looking over the rail at the New Jersey coast line, Alice and the nagging familiar purser chatting by the rail. Captain Bates dressed for dinner giving orders to his first mate. A group of men playing poker in the lounge. Charles leaning against the bulkhead with a cigarette in one hand and a tankard in the other. Emily was bored to tears. If they had taken the train they would be there.

The pitch and roll of the ship had increased by the second evening, and there were fewer people at dinner. They had passed New York and were in the open ocean as the Addie B. chugged up along the Connecticut coast toward Cape Cod. Tomorrow morning they would finally arrive in Boston. Emily looked forward to seeing the city from the harbor. She stretched out on their bed with her novel and let the vibration of the engines and the rocking of the ship lull her to sleep. When she awoke it was dark. Charles had not returned to the room. She patted her hair into place, smoothed her dress and reached for the door knob.

A scream sliced through the dark silence.

When she peered into the hall she saw the door of the cabin two down stood open. Several people huddled around it, Charles among them.

"Get the Captain," he ordered the purser. "Everyone else move away from the door. You there, take care of this woman." Charles thrust a sobbing Mrs. Watkins into the care of the elderly couple Emily had come to know as Mr. and Mrs. Clarke.

"Emily." Charles motioned his wife to follow him into the cabin.

Mr. Watkins lay in a pool of blood across the bed. Red smudges marred the water carafe on the night table. Once Emily drew her eyes away from the obvious indications of violence she noted an open suitcase on the luggage stand, and clothing spread under the body. As she moved to look more closely at the carafe her toe touched something hard. Part way under the bed was Alice's bronze statue of George Washington with blood congealing on its head and shoulders.

Charles bent down to examine Emily's findings. "Someone seems to have coshed him with this." He poked the statue with his toe. "There's a wet spot on the carpet." He indicated a dark stain next to the bed.

Emily touched the stain and rubbed her fingers together then sniffed them. "It's water, not blood."

"Captain Bates," said Charles, as the captain and the purser crowded into the room, "We seem to have a crime on our hands. I suggest you lock this cabin and send everyone away after the purser gets the names of those gathered in the hall."

Charles nudged Mr. Smith toward the door and bent to retrieve the statue. Emily, careful not to smudge the marks, picked up the carafe and followed Charles into the hall. The captain locked the door behind them.

"I know you're a detective," said the Captain in the privacy of the Lawrences' cabin. "You are probably used to such scenes. What would you suggest we do? We are due in Boston early in the morning. My inclination is to lock the cabin and turn the case over to the Boston police. Unless you have a better suggestion."

Charles answered without hesitation. "You must settle Miss Lee and Mrs. Watkins in another cabin. Place a guard at the scene. Make sure you have all the keys. Then let's see how much headway we can make tonight. Maybe we can present a solved case to the Boston police in the morning. Once we disembark, the suspects will be scattered to the four winds."

Charles glanced around their tiny cabin. "We will need a space to interview the witnesses and set up a small laboratory. Our cabin is far too cramped for visitors."

"Very well. I'll issue the orders now."

Once the captain was gone, Charles said, "It's quite clear what happened. Alice was bragging about taking this statue to her grandfather and it was displayed prominently in her state room. You heard her say that Watkins was keeping her from some shipboard romance."

"You think Alice killed someone by smashing him over the head? Mrs. Watkins was acting as chaperone. Mr. Watkins took no notice of Alice's actions except to deliver one lecture at the behest of his wife. This is hardly a woman's crime, Charles."

"I know; poison is a woman's weapon. Still, I have seen you riled up enough to bash someone over the head with something heavy. She might have done it in the heat of an argument. The only other suspect is his wife."

"I think we have to look further than the two women." Emily smiled at Charles' eagerness to plunge himself into the investigation for no particular reason than his own boyish curiosity. Or perhaps to allay his own boredom.

Charles glanced at his pocket watch. "We saw Watkins at dinner. He was found two hours later. That doesn't leave a lot of time for people to come and go."

A young man in uniform approached them. "Captain says I should show you to the private lounge." He led them up a set of stairs and into a room twice the size of their own cabin. Two arge windows that looked out on a darkened world. Emily snapped the curtains shut to maintain privacy.

While they waited for the captain to bring the purser for his interview, Charles and Emily turned the room into a small replica of their Washington office. The implements of their trade, a microscope, some bottles of chemicals and inks, Emily's magnifying glass, and a few drinking glasses, were lined up on the table, a display more impressive than useful. The statue and the carafe were on a chest in the back corner, well out of the reach of interested hands. They had set up two upholstered chairs and one straight-backed desk chair between the laboratory table and the door. Emily arranged her fingerprinting equipment on the desk in the corner by the door where it was both visible and accessible.

"This is Mr. Smith, the purser," said Captain Bates. "He found the body."

The introduction was unnecessary. He was the young man who had been paying so much attention to Alice. Emily motioned him to sit in the hard chair and took the offered list of names.

"Excuse me, sir, but Mrs. Watkins found the body. I was nearby and heard her scream."

"Did you see anyone come out of the stateroom?" asked Charles.

"No, sir. Only Mrs. Watkins. Alice, I mean Miss Lee, had been in there a few minutes earlier."

"Did you know Watkins?" asked Emily.

"I met him and his wife when they came aboard."

"Would you be kind enough to remove your hat and spectacles?" asked Emily.

He was years younger without them. Blond hair spilled from under his formal officers’ cap and his blue eyes sparkled.

"Thank you, Mr. Smith. When we have interviewed everyone on your list, we will need to call on you again." Charles dismissed the purser and motioned the captain into the empty chair.

"All right, smart lady, why did you bring the carafe here?" asked Charles.

"You know that I've been looking into this fingerprint theory. Miss Lee has what Faulds calls arches while the finger prints on the glass were made by someone who has whorls. I have loops. You have whorls, Charles; did you kill him?"

Charles broke into raucous laughter. "So it wasn't Miss Lee after all. Now all we have to do is figure out who else besides me has whorled fingerprints."

Captain Bates looked thoroughly puzzled by this interchange. Neither Emily nor Charles bothered to explain.

Instead Emily demanded, "Show me your left hand, Captain Bates." Though he held it out to her, his frown showed he was skeptical about what she would learn. She took it and turned it palm up. Then with the magnifying glass she had laid out earlier, she examined the tip of his left thumb.

"If you are trying to prove I did the murder, you are wasting your time. From the time I left the dining room until I was called to the Watkins’ stateroom, I was with my first mate and at least one other man."

"No," said Emily, "I didn't think you were guilty. I wanted to be sure I could carry out my threat."

She turned to her husband. "He has arches, Charles. He didn't do it."

Captain Bates looked astonished. "You can tell by looking at my thumb that I didn't do it?"

"Seems so," admitted Emily, feeling pleased with herself for being able to make use of theoretical knowledge. "There is a good chance that it was the murderer who picked up the carafe with his left hand to wash the blood off his right hand. That would account for the wet spot on the carpet. The mark he left shows clearly one of the three patterns described in the article."

Charles laid out their plan of attack to the captain."We would like to see Mrs. Watkins and Miss Lee first, and then the people who were gathered outside the door. They can come here one at a time. I would like you to be present at the interviews."

Emily saw a long night stretching out before her. So much for no responsibilities. But they would be in Cambridge before the midday meal, if the police didn't hold them up.

Mrs. Watkins was first. Emily asked a few gentle questions. Was Miss Lee inclined toward anyone on the crew or perhaps another passenger? Did Mr. Watkins have any enemies and were any likely to be on this ship?

Mr. Watkins had many enemies; what lawyer does not? Miss Lee had mentioned an officer who was paying her particular attention. She knew he was the purser, but as far as she knew Mr. Watkins did not. He wasn't interested in Miss Lee's romantic inclinations and found her presence an imposition.

"Please let me look closely at your hands, again, Mrs. Watkins. We may be able to find your husband's killer before we reach Boston."

Emily examined Mrs. Watkins' thumb as she had the captain's, chatting all the while about arrangements for the comfort and safety of Mrs. Watkins and Miss Lee.

"Arches, Charles. Thank you, Mrs. Watkins. Is Miss Lee taking care of you properly? You will let us know if there is anything we can do?"

The others passed through quickly with Emily looking at each thumb. As the night wore on she became more and more adept at classifying the thumb prints as whorls, arches or loops.

At last she was ready for the purser again.

"Please show me your hands young man," said Emily as Charles questioned him, more as a distraction than to elicit any information.

At her request he tucked his hands into his pocket. "Why?"

"Each person has a unique set of lines on the tips of his fingers. It is possible to identify a person by them. The killer left a recognizable print on the carafe." She indicated the vessel on the table far out of reach. The stain, now dried and brown, showed clearly. "If you touched it, we will know."

For all the experience she had gained, she would never be able to make a more precise identification without a lot of study and practice. And a better magnifying glass. But the ruse worked.

Mr. Smith sat quietly for some time before he looked up at her and said, "You needn't bother, It is all over the ship how you have been looking at people's fingertips. That's my print on the glass"

"I thought it might be," said Emily. "You looked familiar to me, but it took me a while to realize where I had seen you before. Last week in court at the trial of Mr. Kleeg. Did you favor Miss Lee to get close to her guardian?"

"It wasn't all that hard. She is a pleasant young woman. I didn't mean to hurt her or have her implicated in my actions."

"Tell us why you killed Mr. Watkins," said Charles.

"Mr. Watkins is a lawyer. Do I need a better reason?" As his small flash of defiance died, he took his hand out of his pocket and held up for her to look at.

"To kill him? Yes, you do," said Charles.

"I know the reason, Charles. Mr. Smith lied about meeting Mr. Watkins when he came on ship. I saw this young man in the hall outside the courtroom while Jude Kleeg was being tried. His father is the bank guard who was shot in the robbery. Lawyer Watkins made sure no one would be punished, not for the loss of money, not for the irreparable damage done to a human being. Smith is a common name. I didn't recognize him until after the murder. Even when I saw him on the deck several times with Miss Lee. He wore neither his uniform nor the gold wire spectacles in court. It took me some time to realize where I had seen him before."

"Jude Kleeg made sure Father would never work again. He stole his livelihood and his dignity. When I saw the lawyer who had freed such a monster come aboard ship in Washington, I knew I had to take action."

"You took the statue from Miss Lee's room?"

"No. I went to talk to Watkins. He was sitting holding the statue and looking at it. He put it down when I came in. I had been watching him, trying to understand why he would do such a thing. If I was going to confront him it had to be tonight. He was so smug. He said it is the job of a lawyer to get his client off, guilty or not. Then he said my father was the crook, trying the sympathy of the court with faked infirmities.

"I knew the statue belonged to Alice; she had shown it to me. I didn't think, I just reached for it and hit him. I didn't mean to have Alice suspected of the crime."

He glanced at the carafe then at Emily. "I picked up the carafe to wash enough of the blood off my hand so I could get to my own cabin and wash more thoroughly."

"The wet spot on the floor," said Charles.

Emily spoke softly to the young man. "It wasn't your fingerprints that gave you away but your guilty conscience."

BIO:

KB Inglee interprets American history from the colonial period through the mid 19th century at living history sites in Delaware and Pennsylvania where she shepherds a flock of heritage sheep and runs a water powered gristmill. Charles and Emily stories appear in Death Knell IV and Deadly Ink 2009.