A Simple Shaker Murder Read Online Free PDF Page B

blank again.
    â€œI know you’ll like her,” Rose said. “Her name is Agatha, Agatha Vandenberg, and she was very kind to me when I was your age. We’ll go find some candied angelica root and bring it along to share with her, shall we?”
    Mairin gave her single solemn nod, and Rose led her to the pantry. Intent as she was on food, Mairin also seemed fascinated with the kitchen. She paused to stare at the row of shiny copper-bottomed pots hanging from pegs spaced along a narrow strip of wood that encircled the kitchen wall at just abovehead level. Rose was glad to see her show some curiosity in her surroundings.
    Rose cut a healthy slice from one of the sugar-coated boiled angelica roots laid out to dry on cookie sheets. She wrapped it in a kitchen cloth and decided to carry it herself after seeing Mairin’s avid gaze follow every movement. After telling Gertrude where they would be for the noon meal, Rose led Mairin out through the empty dining room and into the hallway. A few retiring rooms were located on the ground floor and reserved for the aged and infirm. Agatha now lived in one of them.
    â€œRose, what a double treat you’ve brought me,” Agatha said when Rose introduced Mairin and showed Agatha the angelica root. “Candy and a new friend, both.” She reached out a thin, trembling hand and touched Mairin’s arm. To Rose’s surprise, Mairin did not pull away. She studied Agatha’s fine-boned face with as much interest as she had given the copper-bottomed pans.
    Mairin sucked on her lower Up for a moment, then smiled a slow, soft smile. “You are a pretty lady,” she said, in her low, lyrical voice.
    Rose was stunned. She had never known anyone so full of surprises.
    Agatha laughed with delight, a sound Rose had not heard since before her last stroke. “Thank you, child. You see with your heart. My own eyes have grown dim with age, but I can tell that you have quite lovely and unusual eyes. Did you get them from your mama or your papa?”
    â€œBoth,” Mairin said. “Mama had brown eyes, and papa’s were green. They’re both dead.”
    Rose had to sit down. Agatha had always been able to speak directly to the soul, but lately Rose had to wonder if she was beginning her final angelic journey. Her powers seemed to intensify as her body weakened.
    â€œIt is very sad when your mama and papa die so young,” Agatha said. “Mine died when I was three, and poor Rosereally doesn’t remember hers, either. How old were you, Mairin?”
    â€œFive. But I remember them both.”
    â€˜Tell me about them.”
    Mairin pulled a small rocking chair over near Agatha and climbed into it. Her feet dangled above the ground, so she tucked them underneath her. Agatha handed her a soft, brown blanket from the arm of her own rocker. Mairin wrapped herself into it up to her neck. For the first time, she looked almost like a normal child.
    â€œMy mama was beautiful,” she said. “Her skin was darker than mine, and she sang a lot, especially when she was drinking. Papa was from Ireland. He drank a lot, too, and sometimes he and Mama beat on each other, and then Papa would beat on me. He always said he didn’t mean to hurt us.” Mairin’s tone was nonchalant.
    Agatha’s smile had disappeared. “How did your mama die?”
    Mairin’s face once again went blank. “One day they were beating on each other, and Papa threw Mama against the stove. She fell down and didn’t get up.”
    â€œYou were there?”
    Mairin nodded. “I was hiding behind the door, and I could see through the crack.”
    â€œWhat happened then?”
    â€œPapa got his gun and shot himself through his mouth.” Mairin’s voice was lightly conversational. Nothing in her manner invited expressions of understanding or sympathy. It was as if she were recounting a bucolic scene she’d witnessed on a recent