Page 10 of Because I Could Not Stop for Death

His words made some of the numbness leave my body. “Henry didn’t make mistakes.” That wasn’t true. Henry broke rules, which could have been thought of as mistakes. I shook my head. “Henry didn’t make mistakes by accident.”

The detective opened his mouth. I was faster and said quietly but firmly, “I do not appreciate that you are implying that his death was his fault. Anyone could have made a noise that spooked that horse. Horses are unpredictable animals. Accidents happen all the time with skilled men and horses.”

Detective Durben pressed his lips into a thin line. It was clear to me that he was not used to a young woman contradicting him, but I could not stand what he was saying about my brother. Henry would not have done something that would cause a horse to trample him. He simply would not.

“So if you’re saying that your brother was not at fault for his own carelessness, are you implying someone may have wanted to hurt him? Do you know if he was in some kind of trouble?” the detective asked.

“Sir, if I may,” Matthew interjected.

The detective shot an irritated glance over his shoulder. “What is it, Thomas?”

Matthew swallowed. “I have known Miss Noble and her brother a very long time. Henry would not tell his sister if he was in some kind of trouble. He would not want to worry her. With all due respect, sir, I don’t think it is helpful to torment her in this way.”

“That may be your assessment, Officer, but I must ask these questions.” The detective’s voice was sharp and intended to remind Matthew of his place.

Matthew dropped his head. “Yes, sir. I am only saying that Miss Noble would not know what her brother knew or was up to at the time he died.”

I glared at Matthew. “I knew Henry better than you think. He told me of his new job at the livery and that...” I stopped myself. In my frustration, I had almost said that Henry told me he had a new scheme to make money. What a grave mistake that would have been.

Detective Durben narrowed his eyes. “Miss Noble, if you know something else about your brother’s circumstances before he died, you must share it.”

I opened my mouth, thinking quickly for what else I could say when Miss Dickinson’s large brown dog, Carlo, galloped into the room.

Detective Durben jumped to his feet and looked as if he wanted to leap to the seat of his chair as well. “What is this?”

I stood. “Carlo.”

The large Newfoundland dog looked back at me, and his tongue hung out of his mouth as he smiled. He looked around the room as if he had come into a gathering of brand-new friends.

“Carlo?” the detective asked.

“He is my dog, sir.” Miss Dickinson came into the room. While Carlo bounded into the sitting room, she quietly stepped inside, but somehow her presence took up more space.

I stood. “Miss Dickinson, I’m so sorry. The police are here to speak to me about my brother.”

She nodded. “I know.” She looked back at the detective. “I hope that you are not making this situation more difficult for Willa than you have to. My father would not want his employees to be harassed.”

Detective Durben swallowed. “Miss Dickinson, anything that I ask of Miss Noble is to have a greater understanding of her brother’s death.”

She studied him with a discerning gaze. “I thought that it was ruled an accident.”

The detective shifted his feet and looked down at the large brown dog just a few inches from him. Carlo glanced up at him as if waiting for the detective to throw a stick for the dog to chase.

Miss Dickinson snapped her fingers. “Carlo, come.”

The dog whipped around and stood at her side. Standing so close to Miss Dickinson, the dog seemed even larger in comparison to his small mistress. She snapped her fingers again and pointed at the carpet. Carlo lay down. The dog surely weighed more than Miss Dickinson, but he lay on the floor and looked up at her as if asking when or if he could ever move again.

Detective Durben relaxed slightly. “It was ruled an accident, but I believe it’s important to follow up on all cases that result in death. These are uneasy times in which we are living, and I don’t like to come to conclusions too quickly.”

“Even if that means coming to my father’s door?” Miss Dickinson asked, arching one eyebrow.

He swallowed again. “Leads must be followed, miss. It is the way of police work. I don’t expect a woman of your stature to know or need to concern herself with any of it.”

“I am more curious than you give me credit for, Detective,” she said evenly. “Furthermore, as you know, my father is a prominent man in Amherst and in the commonwealth. I do not believe that he would like you treating one of his employees as you have been.”

“How have I been treating her?” the detective asked.

“I have overheard the conversation, and it’s clear to me that you believe Willa knows more than she is telling you. It is shameful to imply that an individual whom my family trusts and who is working in my father’s home is dishonest. That is a judgment on the Dickinson name as well as on Willa herself.”

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