A Death in Utopia Read Online Free PDF Page B

approached. The grove was very quiet, even the birds must have been asleep. From the road she heard the rattle of Mr. Platt's wagon coming back from his corn fields. That would be the road where the Irish tramp walked when he left the barn. If he turned from it to walk toward the grove, he must have left footprints in the mud. Were there any footprints coming in that direction?
    Slowly Charlotte walked toward the road, trying to find footprints along the edges of the grassy patches. The mud was drying now, preserving the prints until the next rain. Finally she saw footprints, a man's large shoes, definitely coming from the direction of the road. But they didn't go all the way up to where the body was found. About halfway there the prints stopped behind a big chokeberry bush.
    Charlotte walked carefully toward the bush. She must be careful not to make new footprints. There were plenty of prints behind the bush all mashed together, then another set heading back to the road. That would fit in with what Daniel had said earlier—that the man had seen people around a body and skedaddled. There was no way to know whether these prints were his, but maybe the sheriff could figure that out. Would he come out from the city again to take a look at the footprints?
    While Charlotte searched for clues, Mrs. Ripley and some of the other women laid out Winslow Hopewell's body in the parlor. Charles Dana and John Dwight had volunteered to build a coffin. Charlotte could hear their hammers and smell the newly cut lumberas she walked back to the house. When it was finished, Reverend Hopewell's father would come and take his son's body into Boston.
    There would be a grand funeral in a couple of days and no doubt Mr. Ripley and many of the other Brook Farmers would go into the city for that. Meanwhile everyone tried to carry on as though they were pretending nothing terrible had happened. Mr. Ripley said an extra prayer at grace before supper. During the meal voices were hushed; even the students talked in whispers. Abigail had put away her white dress and was wearing a black one. Her face was pale and strained.
    Daniel Gallagher showed up again the next morning. He was in the kitchen when Ellen and Charlotte went down to help prepare breakfast.
    "Did you find that Rory O'Connor?" Charlotte asked him.
    "Find him I did. He was working at the dock, unloading molasses from a West Indies ship. I had scarcely had a chance to talk to him when along comes some farmer and the sheriff."
    "That must have been Mr. Platt," Charlotte interrupted.
    "Indeed it was. He was yelling 'There he is! That's the man I saw!' Rory was getting ready to run away, but he had the good sense not to do that. The sheriff asked him where he'd been in the morning and pretty soon the story came out—the same one he had told me. Mr. Platt was scowling and saying how no one could trust an Irish tramp."
    "And I suppose the sheriff agreed with him," added Ellen.
    "The sheriff didn't say much. He kinda grunted and said he'd take Rory down to the jail and ask him some more questions. That was the last I saw of him, but at least I know where he is."
    "What will you do now?" Charlotte wanted to know. "You don't believe Rory killed Mr. Hopewell, do you? Wait until after breakfast, I have something to show you."
    Just then Fanny Gray came into the kitchen. "You don't have the tables set yet," she scolded "Everyone will be down to breakfast soon. Then turning to Daniel, she added, "What are you doing here young man? We can't feed everyone who wanders in for a visit. We're very strict about the rules here."
    "Sure, I had my breakfast hours ago in Boston," Daniel answered her with a smile. "I wouldn't interfere with meals, ma'am. I'll just wait outside until I have a chance to talk with Mr. Ripley."
    Breakfast was another quiet meal. Charlotte finished her porridge quickly and took a piece of brown bread outside to share with Daniel Gallagher. She suspected he hadn't had any breakfast at all,