Murder at the mill, p.1
Murder at the Mill, page 1
part #4 of Emma Berry Mystery Series
MURDER
at the MILL
Emma Berry Mystery Book #4
Irene Sauman
Jakada Books
PERTH, WESTERN AUSTRALIA
Copyright
Copyright © 2020, Irene Sauman
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.
Murder at the Mill: Format (novel) / Irene Sauman / Jakada Books / Perth Western Australia
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Contents
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Dedication
Author’s Note
Cast of Characters
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Epilogue
Thank you for Reading
Next in Series
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Books by Irene
Books by Rennae
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Brief Note on the Riverboats
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Dedication
This book is dedicated to
the memory of my grandmother
Alice Bennett
who started married life on a riverboat.
Author’s Note
The Emma Berry mysteries are set in the 1870s on the Murray River, the third longest navigable river in the world, surpassed only by the Amazon and the Nile. Its great navigable length was responsible for the development of the riverboats, the side-wheel paddle steamers that opened up the Australian countryside along the river’s length to settlement and sheep farming, in much the way railways did in the wider countryside.
Indeed it was the railways that eventually ended the glory days of the paddle steamers, though they continue to ply the waters in the 21st century, carrying tourists and holiday makers. Two generations of my father’s family produced working riverboat captains. But this story is strictly fiction.
Murder at the Mill is the fourth title in this series.
Cast of Characters
At Wirramilla on the Murray River
Edward & Rose Haythorne, pastoralists
Emma Berry, their widowed daughter
Eleanor Haythorne, Edward’s mother, Emma’s grandmother
Lucy Wirra, housekeeper
Janey, Sal & Jacky Wirra, Lucy’s adult children
Nella Brackett, Lucy’s eldest child married to overseer Jeff Brackett
At Nettifield on the Murray River
George Macdonald, pastoralist
Adult children: Matty, Beatrice (Bea), Jim
Thomas Quilp, overseer, Bea’s betrothed
Paddle steamer Mary B
Daniel Berry, Captain, Emma’s brother-in-law
Crew: Fred Croaker, Shorty Mason, Blue Higgins, Willy Bowman, Ah Lo (Charley)
At River Bend on the Darling River
Mrs. Isabel Lockwood, widow
Adult children: Andrew, Barbara, Declan, Evan, Frank, Harold, Ian
Ruth Lockwood, Andrew’s wife, children Katherine, Margaret, Ophelia
Naomi Lockwood, Declan’s wife, children Jonathan, Laura, Norman
Mrs. Fowler, housekeeper
Maids: Gladys, Holly, Maudie
Brendan O’Neill, odd-job man
Deelie O’Neill, his wife, children Orla, Liam
Rory Felling, blacksmith, wife Janet
Ann Russell, schoolteacher
Jack Brighten, miller
At Wentworth
Tom Gulbis, livery stable owner, ex-convict
Dotty Keogh, Keogh’s Drapery Store
Lieutenant Forrester, police officer
Dr. Wilson, local medic
Mrs. Wilson, his wife, daughter Zoe, niece Lizzie Ballard
Fires in Ships and Mills. To the Editor. Sir-I see that the...venturesome shareholders of the South Australian Insurance Company have a Christmas-box in the shape of another burnt flour-mill... It is time that mill-owners should learn how to put up fireproof buildings for such a dangerous trade; and the way to teach them the lesson, is to refuse to insure mills built on the present system.
Adelaide Observer, Sat 1 January 1870
Explosions in flour mills. Doctor Stevenson Macadam has recently read to the Royal Scottish Society of Arts a paper upon this subject, and the following are the conclusions set forth in his paper. In the first place, he said, he came to the conclusion that a mixture of flour dust and air in certain proportions was explosive, and that when air and flour were exploded in confined spaces, a pressure equal to eight atmospheres was produced.
The Age, Sat 8 March 1873, p. 7
Chapter 1
A Visit With Catherine & Joe
Sunday 4 April 1876
“I don’t know what you can be thinking to go visiting with servants,” Rose Haythorne grumbled, not for the first time. The morning room where they sat might be bright with the autumn sun, but no amount of pleasant weather seemed to lighten Rose’s mood today.
Emma helped herself to a slice of Lucy's moist fruit cake and didn't comment. It was the easiest way of dealing with her mother’s grumbles. Her grandmother had her nose in a book as she sipped her tea and took no notice. The book was her own latest Trollope, Emma saw: The Way we Live Now. Perhaps something her mother should read instead.
“If anyone asks where you are, I will have to tell them you are visiting Joseph and Catherine in Wentworth,” Rose continued.
“The only person likely to ask is Daniel when he brings the Mary B downriver, and I will be visiting Joe and Catherine, Mother,” Emma responded, thinking of her brother and sister-in-law and their new infant. “Anyway, the invitation to visit River Bend came from Mrs. Lockwood.”
At Deelie O’Neill’s request, but if Brendan’s employer was happy enough to write the letter for the Irish girl Emma felt welcome to visit. She couldn’t tell her mother that without the help of Deelie and Brendan six month ago she might never have found the emerald necklace Sam lost when the Mary B sank. Her mother knew nothing of that particular incident. Besides, she wasn’t a stranger to Mrs. Lockwood either, having met her at the same time.
It had been restful back home at Wirramilla during the off-season, for the most part, but she would be glad to have the boards of the Mary B underfoot again. She wondered how Daniel had managed his time on his own. At least he had the Mary B's Jack Russell for company while the boat had been moored in Rotten Row, downstream from the Echuca wharf.
The water levels in the Murray River and its tributaries had been high enough for a new season of trade for several weeks now, but Daniel had taken work up the Murrumbidgee and east to Albury and hadn’t come as far west as Wirramilla. His last letter suggested he would be up in another couple of weeks. Time enough for her little holiday. She had another reason for spending time at Wentworth too, which her mother knew nothing about.
Emma’s fox terrier Floss, asleep at her feet, snuffled and twitched. Emma bent down and patted her. Floss grunted and flipped an ear. The little dog shared her devotion between Emma and her grandmother these days, which meant Floss didn’t miss Emma too much now when she was away and forgave her absences.
“Well, I suppose that is at least something,” Rose said. “The Lockwoods have a successful property on the Darling River. There's a large family, I understand.” She sniffed. “The boys run the place since their father died.”
That was a dig at Joe who wasn’t interested in inheriting Wirramilla. He preferred his job with the Customs Office.
“Everyone has to make their own choices in life,” Eleanor Haythorne said looking up, her green eyes a mirror-image of Emma’s own as she smiled at her granddaughter. “And friends are friends no matter their station.”
Lucy Wirra came in and began to clear the morning tea things, loading the teacups and plates onto a tray, her brown hands nimble and sure. Emma picked up the teapot and followed Lucy to the kitchen.
“You want take jam for your friend?” Lucy asked. “Peach.”
“That would be nice, Lucy, thank you. But only two jars. I won’t fit any more in my bag.”
“I save some for Cap’n Daniel. Tell him you make.” She laughed at her own joke. Lucy believed Emma and Daniel had a future together, but they both knew Emma’s skills in the kitchen were limited.
Eleanor required Emma’s help in the stillroom for the rest of the day. Orders were flowing in for the herbal remedies now that the ri
“Here it comes.” Jacky Wirra turned to help Emma from the buggy before lifting out the box of herbals she was delivering to Dr. Wilson.
It was a few moments before Emma saw the glimmer of the coach lamps through the bush and heard the faint hoof beats and jingle of harness. As the four-horse team skittered to a halt beside them, the cloud of dust following, invisible in the dark, settled over everything. The driver’s offsider lowered his rifle when he saw who it was by the fire. Jacky handed her in, and the sleepy passengers stirred as Emma squeezed into the seat facing front. Her travelling bag and the box of herbals were added to the baggage on the back of the coach.
The horses laboured along the sandy track through the Mallee scrub. As they grew closer to their destination the track veered north, and the scrub gave way to towering river red gums. They forded the Murray River below the junction with the Darling and a mile further on crossed the Darling below the wharf spraying water from the wheels before rattling down the main street.
Two and a half hours after leaving Wirramilla Emma disembarked with the other passengers in front of the Wentworth Hotel, glad to stretch her legs. The passengers going on to Adelaide hurried inside for a quick breakfast while the horses were changed at the livery stable. Emma engaged a lad to carry the box of herbals to Dr. Wilson’s surgery further down the street. After delivering them and paying the lad, she set off for Catherine and Joe’s house, several streets away. A sharp wind chilled her hands and face and scattered leaves around her as she walked the dirt road.
“Hello, Sis. This is a pleasant surprise,” Joe greeted her, peering out of the dining room as the maid let her into the hall. Emma could hear the wail of a small infant as she kissed her brother on the cheek. “You're just in time for breakfast. Esther, tell Mrs. Haythorne that Mrs. Berry is here, please.”
She followed Joe into the dining room where several covered dishes waited on the sideboard.
“To what do we owe this visit?” he asked sitting down again to his plate of scrambled eggs and bacon which her arrival had interrupted.
“You didn't receive my letter?”
“I might have done. Remind me.”
Emma did so as she helped herself to toast and scrambled eggs and poured tea for them both.
“I remember now. So, you’ll be staying here for a day or two first?”
Emma nodded, feeling the tea revive her. She much preferred the slow, smooth rhythm of river travel to the bumping and jostling of the coach.
“And how is my nephew?” she asked, as another wail reached them.
“Theo is doing well, thank you. Good lungs as you can tell. Doesn’t like waiting for his meals.”
The wail ceased, cut off in mid cry. Joe grinned tiredly. She wasn’t surprised he had momentarily forgotten her letter.
“Emma, my dear, how are you?” Catherine bustled into the room, month-old Theo in her arms. She wore a silk wrapper printed with lilies and leaves in muted greens and purples, her blonde hair tied up in a bright purple scarf. Emma admired her vivacious style in notable contrast to her own mourning black. Her sister-in-law glowed with good health. “Come and say hello to your nephew.”
Emma pushed her chair back and took the baby. She touched the soft, blonde fuzz on his head, looked into the dark eyes. “He’s gorgeous.”
Joe gazed at them, rapt. She realised she would be spending her time with babies and besotted parents for the next week or so. Deelie had six-week-old Orla as well as Brendan’s little boy, Liam.
“I told cook to make enough breakfast for three this morning. I doubt you had eaten before you left. Is there anything else you’d like? More tea?”
“That would be lovely, thank you.” Catherine went to fetch a fresh pot. “Catherine seems happy,” Emma said. “And she remembered my letter.”
Joe just smiled, his eyes on his infant son. He eventually tore himself away to his work at the Customs House.
“So,” Emma said when she and Catherine were alone, “is Mrs. Keogh well enough to see me now?”
“It would seem so. I saw Dotty last week and she said her mother was feeling much better. She does have some scarring. I suspect that is what’s been keeping her at home more than anything. Apparently when she does go out, she’s taken to wearing a headscarf that covers half her face.”
“Poor woman.”
Mrs. Keogh had contracted shingles, preventing Emma from speaking to her earlier about the old promise she and Matty Macdonald had made. Emma needed to convince the woman there was nothing between them now, or Mrs. Keogh wouldn’t allow him to resume his courtship of her daughter.
Emma couldn’t help feeling some irritation toward Matty. If he hadn’t stopped seeing Dotty after Sam died – expecting Emma might want to honour that promise made to wed if they were both still single in ten years – he and Dotty could be married by now. Dotty would have taken over the household at Nettifield leaving Bea free to marry Thomas and get on with her own life.
“And how is Bea?” Catherine asked.
“Unhappy would be the best description I suppose.” Emma sighed.
“I’m sorry Bea found out about the promise, Emma, but I couldn’t see any other way of convincing Mrs. Keogh except to tell her the truth.”
Bea hadn’t forgiven her for keeping the promise a secret all those years. It didn’t help that she was now caught up in the fallout. Emma had seen her friend and neighbour only once since January. She knew from Bea’s younger brother Jim, that relations were strained between her and Matty as well. It was a mess all round.
“It’s not your fault,” Emma assured Catherine. “This started a long time before you even knew we all existed, and I do appreciate your help.”
“I just hope you can work it out.”
Emma heartily agreed.
Chapter 2
Facing Mrs. Keogh
Dotty Keogh opened the door to Emma’s knock.
“Mrs. Berry?”
“Hello Miss Keogh. May I come in? I would like very much to speak to your mother if I possibly could.”
Emma had chosen to turn up on the Keogh doorstep rather than risk a refusal to make an appointment to meet. As it was Wednesday half-day, she knew the Keogh’s drapery store would be closed and took the chance they would be at home.
Dotty glanced behind her to an open door. “I don’t know...”
“Bring her in, Dotty,” Mrs. Keogh called from the adjoining room.
Dotty took Emma’s coat and hat and hung them on the coat stand, and Emma followed her into the parlour, thinking this must be how people felt when called up for questioning during the Spanish Inquisition. It might not be her life at stake but through her both Bea and Matty had their lives on hold. She had to make it right.
The curtains in the Keogh’s parlour were drawn and the room dim. Emma could just make out Mrs. Keogh, her back to the window, sitting on the sofa.
“Thank you for seeing me, Mrs. Keogh,” Emma said, taking a seat in the armchair to which Dotty directed her. “I hope you are feeling better after your illness.”
“As well as can be expected, I suppose, thank you.”
“Can I get you tea?” Dotty asked.
“Do that,” her mother said. “Our conversation won’t take long,” she added when Dotty had left the room, “but it gets her out of the way. So, Matty Macdonald has sent you to talk me around has he? I must admit he seems to have no shortage of women taking his part in this matter. You, your sister-in-law, his own sister. You all seem determined on his marrying Dotty. Makes me wonder a little why you are so keen to get him out from underfoot, so to speak.”
This was going to be just as difficult as Emma had feared.
“While I am here on Matty’s behalf,” she said, “I am not here at his request, Mrs. Keogh. He has no knowledge of any of this. And secondly, I am attempting to set right a misunderstanding, a sequence of events that has led us to this point. May I elucidate?”
“I am agog to hear,” Mrs. Keogh replied drily.
Emma clasped her clammy hands and dived in.
“So, you want me to believe,” Mrs. Keogh said, when Emma finally stopped speaking, “that Matty Macdonald stopped seeing my Dotty because he was honouring the proposal he made to you to marry if you were both still single in ten years? And as you were now a widow and single again, and the time hadn’t quite run out, he abandoned my Dotty to chase you up? That’s your story, is it?”
