Murder in a mill town Read Online Free PDF

and about what.”
    “If we step off company property after work,” Mary said, “we get chewed out but good, and a black mark goes on our record.”
    Ruth said, “The house mothers, they follow your every move and report the bad stuff to Mr. Harry so’s he can decide what to do about you.”
    Cora rolled her eyes. “Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.”
    “The gall,” Mary said, “a hound like that, with his ways, passin’ judgment on us.”
    “Try not to move, Mary,” Nell said as she swiftly sketched in the girls’ features. “Have you ever known him to actually fire anyone for disobeying the rules?”
    Ruth said, “Well, there was this one girl, Bridie Sullivan...”
    Nell managed not to smile.
    “Her and Evie and me, we all worked together on the same bank of looms—just since June, which was when Bridie started working here. She got herself sacked a few days ago, but there ain’t no question she had it comin’.”
    “Evie?” Everyone turned to find another young man—huge and hulking, with overgrown white-blond hair—emerging from the woods that separated the river from the mill. “Evie, what you doin’ here? You’re s’posed to be at dinner.”
    Evie sighed. Speaking for the first time, she said, “It was too nice out.”
    “I went to your house, lookin’ for you,” he said, his pout very much at odds with his bulk and that thick-chested voice. “Mrs. Hathaway, she’s writin’ you up for skippin’ dinner. You din’t ought to skip dinner.”
    “Sorry, Luther. Here.” Evie patted the ground next to her. “You sit right here with me till it’s time to go back.”
    The others greeted Luther familiarly as he lumbered over to Evie and sat cross-legged. Evie finger-combed his hair as he gazed, open-mouthed, at Nell. “What you doin’?”
    “Don’t stare, Luther,” Evie said. “She’s drawin’ a pitcher. Of Mary and Ruthie and Cora.”
    “Can I see?”
    “It’s not done yet, but here.” Nell turned the sketchbook to show him.
    He grinned in childish delight at the unfinished sketch. “Looks just like ‘em!”
    “Evie and Luther are brother and sister,” Otis told Nell. “Been workin’ here since they was little.”
    “What kind of work do children do?” Nell asked as she returned to her drawing. “Those machines are all so big and complicated.”
    “I was a doffer,” she said. “I took the full bobbins off the spinning frames and put the empty ones on—just fifteen minutes out of every hour. The rest of the time, I got to play. Luther ran errands for the men in the spinning room.”
    “He still does, don’t you, fella?” Leaning over, Otis gave Luther a playful sock on the arm. “Don’t know what us mule spinners would do without ol’ Luther.”
    Rubbing his arm, Luther told Nell, “I’m strong as an ox. Ain’t nobody can carry as much as me, nobody.”
    “He’s a hard worker, our Luther,” Otis said. “We give him sweets when he does good.”
    “I don’t do it for the sweets,” Luther said, seeming genuinely insulted. “I get money, just like you.”
    “What is it they pay you again?” Otis asked with a conspiratorial wink at Nell. “Two dollars a week? Ain’t that what you were makin’ when you were nine?”
    “Don’t ride him, Otis,” Evie said. “You know how he gets when people laugh at him.”
    “I get two dollars and fifty cent.” Luther glowered at Otis. “You don’t know everything.”
    Wanting to defuse the atmosphere and refocus the conversation on her reason for being here, Nell said, “What did you mean before, Ruth—that this Bridie Sullivan had it coming to her when she got fired?”
    “Bridie’s gone,” Luther said.
    His sister said, “Hush, Luther. Everybody knows that.”
    “She was a bad girl.”
    “Luther, just be—”
    “Why do you say that?” Nell asked with feigned nonchalance as she continued to draw, glancing back and forth between her three subjects and her sketchbook.
    Evie answered for