Page 9 of Because I Could Not Stop for Death

“He would not call it illegal.”

“Would the police?”

I nodded.

“So you are wondering if your brother—” She paused.

“Henry. His name was Henry.” I choked on my brother’s name.

“So you are wondering if Henry got in some kind of trouble that led to his death.”

I squeezed the brush even harder, and the bristles dug into my skin. “Yes,” I whispered.

“So is his death a crime?”

“I—I don’t know.” I knew in my heart I should have said no. I was wrong to admit to any member of the Dickinson family I was possibly attached to a crime let alone murder. It was grounds enough to have me dismissed from my position.

“It seems to me that’s what we need to find out, then.” She folded her hands in front of her.

“We, miss?” I asked, confused.

She nodded. “Yes. We.”

Chapter Four

Miss Noble, what is your brother’s experience with horses?” a thin-faced police detective asked me. He wore a threadbare suit, and his top hat rested on his knee. When he came into the house, Miss O’Brien asked to take his hat and coat. He handed over the coat but kept the hat with him. Every few seconds he touched the brim as if it brought him some comfort.

Over his shoulder, Officer Matthew Thomas stood with his arms folded. He wore his dark blue officer uniform and held his flat-topped officer cap in his hand. I could feel his sympathy from where I sat on the floral settee in the Dickinsons’ sitting room. I didn’t look at him. I didn’t have to look to know that his handsome face would be a mask of concern, his dark hair would be neatly trimmed, and his dark eyes would be turned down in sadness.

It was both odd and expected that he would be here when the detective came to question me about Henry’s death. He always seemed to be there when Henry was involved, but I never thought we’d be discussing Henry in such a grand room, nor did I expect it would be about my younger brother’s death.

I met Matthew the first time the police questioned me about my younger brother. It was the first time Henry got caught breaking the law. I did not say it was the first time he broke the law. He had broken the law many times before getting caught. My brother took a cavalier Robin Hood view of rules. He stole from the rich to give to the poor. It was not lost on me that the poor were strictly he and I.

After our mother died, Henry would come to the room that we had managed to rent with our meager wages carrying cookies and cakes for our meals. I would ask him where those treats came from, and he refused to tell me. I was hungry, and the sweets were good. I ate them, praying that I wasn’t condemning my soul for all eternity for a mere tea cake.

As I found steady work, I begged Henry to stop stealing, and I thought that he had until I was eighteen and the young Officer Matthew Thomas brought him home. Henry had been caught stealing honey from a local farm stand. After that, we saw Matthew often. He said he came around to make sure that Henry stayed out of trouble. Often he brought us fruit and treats that I knew he had purchased with his small wages. Again, I didn’t want to eat those offerings, but I did because I was hungry.

Over time, Matthew became our friend, but when Mrs.Patten threatened to fire me because I had a “gentleman caller,” I asked Matthew to stay away. I could not lose my position at the boardinghouse, and I could not seem to make Mrs.Patten understand that Matthew was just a friend. I knew Matthew was hurt by being dismissed. I did not explain well why I asked him to stay away. I had not told him what Mrs.Patten said. It was far too embarrassing, but I knew that to save myself from embarrassment, I had hurt a man who was my friend and was kind to my brother when Henry didn’t always deserve it.

Matthew did stay away for a time. Until last spring when he stopped me on my daily walk from the boardinghouse to the post office. He stopped me there on the sidewalk and proposed marriage to me. He told me that he could care for Henry and me, give us a safe place to live. I refused. My mother married because she thought it would give her protection. It only hurt her. I would not marry without love. But now, I realized my mistake. If I had taken Matthew’s hand, would Henry still be alive? Had my pride cost my brother his life?

“Miss Noble?” the detective asked for what was clearly not the first time.

I looked at him closely. He’d said that his name was Detective James Durben. He was tall and thin with a nose so straight I wondered if it could cut paper.

“What’s your brother’s experience with horses?” the detective asked.

My throat felt impossibly dry. “Good, I believe. He worked with horses many times. Henry was a jack-of-all-trades. There was not a single thing that he couldn’t do.”

“You seem to be proud of him,” the detective observed.

“I am. He works—worked very hard.” I folded my hands in my lap and stared at them. I wasn’t a small woman, and my calloused hands weren’t small either. Many people marveled at my height at five feet eight inches—as tall as many men. It was helpful when I was cleaning, as I could reach more places with less effort, but not at a time like this when I wanted to make myself as small as possible and disappear. At times like these, my height was a burden.

“But this was the first time he worked with horses in a livery setting,” the detective said.

I looked up from my hands. “Yes, as far as I know.”

“So it stands to reason that he could have died in an accident. He did not have enough experience to work in the stable. He made a mistake and was killed.”

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