Candy Cane Murder (Hannah Swensen #9.5)(108)

Leslie Meier

portunity to spend a few minutes checking out the latest magazines would seem like such a luxury. She picked up a copy of People magazine and began flipping through the pages.

“I’ve seen you around town,” said Rachel, breaking into her thoughts. “You have a little boy, don’t you?”

“That’s right. Toby’s almost two.”

“And you live out on Red Top Road?”

“I guess I’ll have to get used to everybody knowing all about me,” said Lucy. “It wasn’t like this in the city.”

“I suppose not,” said Rachel. “Tinker’s Cove is a pretty small town. Everybody knows everything about everybody.”

“You said it,” said a middle-aged gentleman, coming through the door. He had salt-and-pepper hair and was wearing a suit underneath his red-and-black plaid jacket.

“Mr. Cobb, this is Lucy Stone. She wants to ask you about some local history.”

“Well, you’ve come to the right man,” said Cobb, setting his paper cup of coffee on Rachel’s desk, hanging his jacket on the coat tree and extending his hand toward Lucy. She grasped it in hers, then Cobb opened his office door with a flourish and she preceded him through it. Once inside he pulled out a chair for her and she sat down, facing his desk.

He sat down facing her, carefully setting his coffee on the blotter.

“So it’s local history you’re interested in,” he prompted.

Lucy looked around the office, which was decorated with Civil War memorabilia including Matthew Brady photographs, a small and tattered Confederate flag in a frame, and a shadow box containing two lead bullets and a minnie ball.

“Actually, I’m looking for information about a man named Emil Boott. He was a trusty who worked for Judge Tilley.”

“Emil Boott, Emil Boott, the name sounds familiar but I don’t remember him. Kyle Boott, of course. Now that was quite an accident. Everybody’s talking about it.”

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Lucy blushed. “I feel just terrible about that,” she said.

He looked at her curiously. “Don’t tell me you were the woman who … ?”

“I’m afraid I was. I slipped on the icy sidewalk at the same moment that poor woman lost control of her car. It was a freak accident.”

“I’d say it was good work,” said Rachel, appearing in the open doorway. “He was a brute and certainly won’t be missed.”

Sherman Cobb pursed his lips and furrowed his brow, and Rachel scurried back to her desk. “May I ask why you want to know about Emil Boott? Is it something to do with the accident?”

“Oh, no. It’s just a coincidence. I’m interested in social history, sort of an American Upstairs, Downstairs. I’m studying the late Judge Tilley’s household, in fact.”

“For a television show? Do you write for TV?”

“Possibly,” said Lucy, aware that she was prevaricating.

“Right now I’m thinking more along the lines of a story for a women’s magazine. How times have changed, that sort of thing.”

“I expect you’ll find they’ve improved quite a bit,” said Sherman, prying the lid off his coffee. “I’m a Civil War reenactor and I can tell you life wasn’t very comfortable back then. Clothes were itchy, shoes didn’t fit very well, food was monotonous and a bath was a real luxury.”

“And that’s only the male side of things,” said Lucy.

“Think of all the work the poor women had to do.”

“It killed a lot of them, you know. The old cemetery behind the Community Church is full of old sea captains who have three or four wives buried beside them. You’d think going to sea would be dangerous but it was more dangerous for the women staying home.”

“Childbirth was the big killer,” said Lucy, patting her tummy. “I, for one, am thankful for modern obstetrics.”

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Leslie Meier

“And disease, well into this century. The judge always maintained that Mrs. Tilley died of exhaustion but most people thought it was TB.”

“Did you know the family well?” asked Lucy.

“Not Mrs. Tilley. I came along after she was gone. But Judge Tilley took an interest in me. You could say he was my mentor.”

“Really?” Lucy was surprised. “Everything I’ve heard seems to indicate he was rather stern and forbidding.”

“There was that side to him, definitely. But he helped pay for my schooling, right up through law school. And he gave me plenty of encouragement and good advice when I started to practice.” He took a swallow of coffee, then chuckled. “I often wonder what he’d think of the present day system.”

“What do you mean?”

“The judge believed justice should be swift and sure. He actually tended to give rather short sentences, he wanted folks to learn their lesson and get back to work supporting their families. I’ve talked to some of people he sent to the county jail and they’ve told me jail was a picnic compared to the talking-to he gave them. Made them think, he did. He wouldn’t approve of all these long trials and people sitting on death row for years and years of appeals.”

“Did he ever sentence anyone to death?”