Authors: M. Ruth Myers
The policeman opened his mouth to refuse Kate's request. Then he took in their faces, their clothes. "Five minutes."
Aggie stuck close to Kate as they entered the barred world in the back of the jail. Kate fought nervousness too, but told herself Pa must have come here often. Rosalie sat in a cell with three other women. Her face was drawn and pale but she sat erect. She leaped to her feet at sight of them, and in her unguarded expression Kate glimpsed the depths of her humiliation.
"Oh, Rosie!" Aggie reached through the bars for her hands and gave them a squeeze. "It's going to be all right. We'll get you out."
"I was only away from the car for an hour." Rosalie's voice could hardly hold itself together. "When I got back, a policeman was waiting. He asked what I had in the trunk. When I said nothing, he told me to open it and... there was a carton of liquor."
"I'll get a lawyer," Kate said firmly. "Aggie, stay with her until they throw you out. We'll be in the courtroom. Then we'll take you home."
Kate wondered, as she tore up the street on foot, whether either of her sisters realized Paul Garrison and his wife were still away on a long-awaited trip to Greece and Italy. Her heart sank as his secretary made quick introductions to his new associate. The lawyer with wild red curls who now occupied what had been Pa's office looked scarcely older than she was. When she returned, she found Aggie waiting nervously outside the courtroom.
"I thought you'd be inside," Kate said, exasperated.
"Kate, it's a madhouse in there! And — people are smelly."
"For heaven's sake! Didn't you ever watch Pa in court?"
"Once...."
Kate led the way into the courtroom. She was forced to admit things here bore little resemblance to the orderly trials where her father had spoken so persuasively. The room was crowded, filled with spectators. Some murmured angrily, all were nervous; relatives, she realized slowly, of dozens of people who were being arraigned here today, and perhaps of their victims. Many wore the patched shirts and had the tough look of manual laborers. The only ones who frightened her were two men whose flashy suits and bored expressions reminded her of Felix Garvey.
"Where are you going?" Aggie hissed as she moved forward.
"Up front, where Rosalie can see us."
They were barely settled when a judge took the bench. Judge Seabrooke, whom she'd last seen at Pa's funeral, and whom she'd convinced of her idiocy with her tongue-tied response to a question the night of Rosalie's engagement party. He heard pleas on two assault cases, dismissed a charge of theft from a drygoods store for lack of evidence, set a hefty bail for a man whose supposedly distilled rubbing alcohol had blinded two people who drank it, and came at last to Rosalie.
"Your honor, this woman was apprehended delivering bootleg liquor. Last night one gang of thugs higjacked a truck from another gang, killing one man and wounding another. We're charging her as an accomplice," said the prosecutor.
Kate gasped. The red-haired lawyer, whose name was Sterling, cleared his throat. He looked nervous. In sudden horror Kate wondered if this was his first time in court.
"Your honor, my client is innocent," he said, solidly enough.
The prosecutor gave him a dismissive glance. "In view of her potential value in making a case against known crime figures, we ask that the defendant be held without bail."
Aggie gripped Kate's hand so tightly Kate's fingers hurt.
"Your honor, my client is — is a church goer—"
"Yes, yes, Mr. Sterling. Bail is set at four hundred dollars." Judge Seabrooke banged his gavel.
Kate was on her feet before she could stop herself.
"Your honor, this woman is engaged to a minister! She does charity work on a weekly basis. I challenge you to find anyone who'd speak a word against her. She's an absolute paragon. And she can't raise four hundred dollars!"
The judge's gaze swept the audience indignantly, stopping on her. "Kate Hinshaw, is it?" he asked in disbelief.
"Yes, Judge Seabrooke — your honor." Aware of everyone looking at her, Kate felt rubbery in the knees.
"The character of the accused is a persuasive factor here." The judge scowled thoughtfully. "Bail is reset at three hundred dollars." The gavel cracked again.
Kate threaded her way from the still full courtroom, Aggie at her heels. In the hall she let out a great breath. Behind them, delayed by instructions he'd whispered to Rosalie, Mr. Sterling was coming up the aisle beaming.
"Can we make her bail? Is there enough in the bank?" Aggie asked anxiously.
Kate hugged her arms and slumped against the wall. "Yes, but there won't be enough left for the loan payment."
"But you'll be making another trip—"
"Not until July! There's still too much ice until then."
***
Mama was horrified when her daughters sat her down and told her, as calmly as possible, what had happened. On their way home Rosalie had forbidden Kate to confess to the rum-running trips.
"If you say a word, I'll tell her I'm the one who urged you to do it and how I stitched up your nasty cut and she'll never trust me again!" she threatened, dabbing her eyes.
"And it won't undo what's happened," Aggie insisted.
Kate felt at once helpless and angry. The liquor had obviously been planted. But why had it had to be Rosalie who was caught? They agreed to tell their mother what was conceivably true — that it was all some ghastly mix-up.
"No one will believe you'd do such a thing," Mama consoled when she'd heard the story. They all knew the arrest would sully Rosalie's reputation.
"The gossip will wreck your business before you even open the doors!" Rosalie dabbed her eyes again, too proud to cry.
"It will draw customers like flies," Aggie said drily.
Woody listened goggle-eyed. Kate had insisted he might as well hear everything, as he'd find out sooner of later. Before they even had all the details out, the doorbell rang and he scooted to answer. The boom and chirp of their uncle and aunt accompanied his return.
"Oh, Ginny! Wonderful news!" Aunt Helène laughed reaching to catch Mama's hands and kiss her cheek. "Theo's being discharged tomorrow! He's gained three pounds and he's up on crutches. In six or eight weeks they'll start fitting him for an artificial limb."
Uncle Finney had noted their faces. "Is something the matter?" he asked. "This looks a bit like a council of war."
"Sit down." Mama gestured. "You need to know. Rosalie's been arrested. She came out from helping at Grimley's this afternoon and someone had stashed liquor in the car. A policeman was waiting and — she was arrested!"
"Rosalie?"
Their uncle's jaw dropped. "It can't be!" He stared sickly, as if punched in the stomach. "Rosalie, I never — that is, I can't imagine — but you don't even drive!"
"I do hope this doesn't affect your engagement," Aunt Helène said tactlessly. "What do Arthur's parents say?"
Yellow anger blurred Kate's vision as she absorbed her uncle's words. She felt Rosalie grip her elbow. Heard her say she was just about to call Arthur and needed Kate's company.
"Not a word!" she hissed as Kate started to speak. She shoved Kate ahead of her into the privacy of the kitchen.
"Rosalie, he framed you! Uncle Finney framed you!"
"Don't you think I saw that, the way he stumbled and stammered in there?" Rosalie's voice shook. "The unprincipled—"
"It was me he meant to get caught."
"Of course it was! All those chummy questions he asked that day about how you and Aggie shared the car. Me telling how you dropped me off. He paid someone to do his dirty work, and they didn't realize it wasn't you driving!"
Kate's head was pounding. Because of her, Rosalie's name would be in tatters.
"And don't even think of telling Mama!" Rosalie stabbed a finger at her. "I've a score to settle with him now, and I mean to do it!"
"But—"
"Just because I like sewing and tea parties doesn't mean I'm a simpleton. I can manage things over teacups that you and Aggie can't with all your running around."
High color had risen in Rosalie's cheeks. Her eyes glinted.
"What happened to Christian charity?" Kate asked unsteadily. She'd never seen this side of her sister before.
Rosalie smiled without humor. "God needs foot soldiers."
Thirty-seven
Even Tatia approved of inviting Mr. Santayna to see her boatworks.
"Jesus, Mary and Joseph!" he exclaimed at the sight of the sprawling buildings which housed one of the most prosperous boatyards in Massachusetts. "The
Bayliss
Boatworks?"
From his amazement, Zenaide wondered whether he had expected her to show him tiny buildings made of papier-mâché. Some people, she knew, thought she wasn't quite right in the head. But his response to the invitation she'd sent had been polite, and written in a neat hand.
"Bayliss was my maiden name," she explained happily. Tatia paid the taxi which had brought them. They'd run two advertisements for a chauffeur, but none of the men who applied had looked respectable. "See the slope there? That's where they lower the new boats into the water. Isn't it grand?"
She had searched her brain for an outing he might enjoy half as much as she had enjoyed her trip to Salem Willows. She was certain now that she had found it.
"When Mr. Cole was alive, I seldom came here. He said it wasn't fitting, because it was dirty and some of the language was coarse and besides I'd only plague him with questions afterwards. Now I come once or twice a year." Zenaide bobbed her head with a confidence that had flowered in her in recent weeks. "That's reasonable, don't you think?"
It was lovely to have someone who'd listen to her talk about the boatworks. The place intrigued her. Its mid-sized vessels hauled freight and passengers everywhere along the coast. Its smaller pleasure craft were favored by residents of Beverly and Boston and Long Island. From the day she'd first visited it as a bride, she'd wanted to learn more about its workings.
The manager was a florid man, able to rattle off facts and figures. He came to the house three times a year to make reports, but it put him out of sorts when she asked questions. Like her father, telling her she didn't need to know things, and her husband, who often called her stupid.