Page 16 of Unbroken
While Ves returned to the bindery and conservatory, Sebastian and Mortimer took the trolley to the late David Siewert’s address. It lay not far from Penelope Tubbs’s home, in the new money section of High Street. The architect had taken his cue from Grecian temples and included as many marble columns as possible on the entryway and facade. Lush flower gardens unrolled to one side of the house, disappearing behind its stately bulk into what was no doubt an equally lavish back yard. Even from a distance, it was clear the Siewert gardeners had taken their cue from those employed by the Tubbs, as all the flowers were abnormally large.
Mortimer’s lip curled beneath his thin mustache. “The newly rich always have such poor taste.”
“It looks lovely to me,” Sebastian said, glancing around as they made their way up to the door.
“As I said, ‘poor’ taste.”
Sebastian clapped him on the arm. “Well, since you’re now one of the great unwashed like myself, it’s past time to lower your standards.”
“Never.” Mortimer rang the bell.
A stern older woman answered, wearing a simple black dress with white apron and cap, a band of black crape around one arm. “Yes?”
All of Mortimer’s earlier disdain vanished, replaced by a solemn expression as he passed over his card. “Mortimer Waite and Sebastian Rath. We’re here to see Mrs. Siewert regarding her husband’s death.”
The woman frowned, but said only, “If you’ll follow me. I warn you, though, Mrs. Siewert is accepting few visitors at this time.”
The implication being a woman in mourning shouldn’t be bothered by impertinent persons such as themselves. They followed her to a small sitting room off the foyer. At least a dozen vases of fresh flowers crowded the room: hollyhocks like spears, dahlias half the size of Sebastian’s head, tulips large enough to use as soup bowls, and lilies like trumpets. Their cloying perfume was so thick Sebastian knew he’d smell it on his clothes long after they left.
Most of the paintings on the periwinkle walls were of flowers, with the sole exception of a portrait of a man standing in a garden holding a normally sized rose.
Ice went down Sebastian’s back at the sight of the painting. As soon as the woman had left, he nudged Mortimer. “That man—I think he was the leech who attacked Ves last night.”
“You think? Or you’re certain?”
Sebastian studied the portrait. The artist had given Siewert a proud expression as he gazed out at the viewer. The mustache seemed the same, as did the hair and basic facial features…but given the bloating of death, the damage from the saltwater in the basement, he couldn’t be entirely sure. “He wasn’t exactly in good condition.”
“You said his grave was vandalized,” Mortimer mused. “If someone dug him up, or he crawled out himself?—”
The door opened behind them, admitting the stern woman from before. This time, she was followed by a youthful woman dressed in full mourning. A black veil obscured her features, revealing just enough for Sebastian to surmise she’d been much younger than her departed husband.
“Mrs. Siewert?” Mortimer asked. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance. I hope you’ll forgive our intrusion during this sad time.”
“Mrs. Haddock, will you have Jane bring us some coffee?” she asked the older woman. Once she departed, quietly closing the door behind her, Mrs. Siewert gestured to the chairs arranged around a small table. “Please, have a seat. You’re here on some business involving my husband?”
“I’m afraid so.” Sebastian settled on a chair across from her and Mortimer took the one between them. “First, please allow us to express our condolences on your loss.”
Behind the gauze of her veil, she blinked rapidly. “I asked him to stay home that day, or to at least take the train. The fog was so bad, and the road to Salem isn’t the best. But he loved driving his automobile—he was very fond of machines, and once he had an idea in his head…” She broke off. “Did you know him well?”
The door swung open, admitting a young maid carrying a tray laden with cups, carafe, sugar, and cream. “Thank you, Jane—I’ll serve,” Mrs. Siewert said, and the girl departed silently. “Sugar? Cream?”
“One lump, and yes, please,” Sebastian said, while Mortimer demurred any additions. Mrs. Siewert served them, then put back her veil in order to sip her own coffee. Her eyes and nose were both red, presumably from weeping.
Rather than answer the question as to whether they’d known her husband, Sebastian said, “We’re here because…well…” He glanced at Mortimer, who sipped his coffee rather than offer to help. “I don’t wish to be indelicate, but was there anyone who might have wanted to harm your husband?”
Her eyes widened in shock. “What do you mean? Are you saying it wasn’t an accident? Did someone sabotage his auto?”
Mrs. Siewert’s voice grew louder and wilder with every question. Sebastian hurriedly held up his hands for calm, before her distress summoned Mrs. Haddock and the grim woman threw them out.
“We’re not certain,” he lied frantically. “Do you, er, do you know Penelope Tubbs?”
She stared at him blankly for a moment. “Mrs. Tubbs? I don’t understand.”
Mortimer finally joined the conversation. “Mrs. Tubbs was recently injured in a manner calculated to look like an accident, but which she assures us was not. The incident occurred at a dinner in honor of your late husband.”
“I…I think I read something about that?” She looked around, as if expecting a newspaper to appear. “I’ve kept to myself since…”
“Of course, of course.” Mortimer leaned forward slightly. “You weren’t acquainted with the lady in question, then?”
