Chapter 16
I SINK INTO THE SOFT LEATHER PASSENGER’S SEAT OF ALEX’S MERCEDES. We’re off on that research day trip. He seems upbeat and excited, as if Simon’s death had never occurred at all. He rattles off historical details of the area, first Evansport and then Boston, which keeps him talkative and animated.
I fidget with my seat belt; despite the luxury of the car, I can’t get comfortable.
I take furtive glances at Alex. I certainly resemble the Spencer side of my family.
Dark hair, blue eyes, a slight cleft in my chin.
I didn’t get the Spencer height, though.
My short stature alone seems to have come from my mother.
She had blond hair that was unruly with curls, while I’ve never needed a straightener.
She also had big brown eyes, so different from my own.
It occurs to me that I must’ve reminded her of my father every day.
There are so many things I want to ask Alex about, my grandparents, Mary, Cheshire Lake.
“Almost there,” Alex says, turning off the highway. “Fall River.”
I’m almost afraid to ask, but since he hasn’t brought up the focus of the trip, I feel compelled to. “Lizzie Borden?”
“That’s correct, Emma. I’ve long been fascinated with her story, and I think I’m building a pretty good novel around that incident. I was here last month. Bob Chambers, a local historian, and I met, and we toured the house. It still stands pretty much as it did in 1892.”
I swallow. “Are we going through the house today?”
“Not unless you want to.”
“I’m fine.” I have no desire to see where the notorious murders took place.
“Okay, then. I just have to meet with Mr. Chambers. I have a few follow-up questions from when I was here before. Then we can walk around town. I have a map that indicates where everything was back in Lizzie’s time.
” We circle the streets, find a public parking lot. “You don’t mind walking, do you?”
“No, not at all.”
Alex stands next to the car, his gaze taking in the street in front of us.
“I like to get a firsthand feel for the places I use in my fiction, and I try to put myself in the footsteps of the killers, sink into their lives as much as I can.” He turns toward me.
“Speaking of fiction, how is your novel coming along? With all that’s been going on, I haven’t had a chance to ask you about it. ”
“Actually, I’ve made some progress. Last week, before Simon …” My voice trails off. Alex hasn’t mentioned Simon today as if with the sunrise, everything has flipped back to normal, like there never was a murder at Cheshire Lake.
“Good. Get back to it, Emma. Don’t let anything take you away from writing. Maybe now we can both get back on track. Being on the hunt always keeps me grounded,” he says. “Nothing like interesting work to chase away problems.”
We walk together down a busy street lined with modern office buildings. Cars and trucks fly by leaving the smell of exhaust in their wake. The gray sky threatens rain, so we hurry down the sidewalk.
Alex pauses occasionally, lifts his head as if scenting the air, feeling the ambience of the town.
I feel a wave of nerves wash over me as I spy the tall, green clapboard house.
The Lizzie Borden house stands like a silent memorial, a relic of a sinister past now nestled in a commercial area where tall modern buildings fill what had once been a residential neighborhood.
As if the house refuses to let go. The murders refusing to be forgotten, the evil from the past lingering in this modern town.
As we walk by, Alex slows, his gaze sweeping the house and grounds. “You sure you don’t want to see inside after my meeting?” he asks.
“No, I’m fine.”
He stops and points to the second floor. “Lizzie’s stepmother, Abby, was hacked to death as she made the bed in the guest room. The assailant crept up behind her, lifted an axe …” Alex’s voice trails off. I shiver.
Bob Chambers is a little man, wears thick glasses, his hairline well past the top of his head.
He welcomes us into his living room, and I am reminded of Spencer House, though not as big or grand as Alex’s home.
Despite the townhouse’s modern exterior, this house seems stuck in the past. The floral wallpaper and the antiques give the room a definite Victorian vibe.
Even the clock ticking loudly on the mantel of the wide fireplace looks like it comes from another century.
Mr. Chambers asks Alex and me to step into his office. Through the door, I see an old desk piled high with books and papers. I decline and tell them I’ll wait in the living room.
I can’t make out the quiet garbled conversation from the other room, but I have no desire to go over the details of a brutal double murder anyway.
I know enough to get the gist of the story.
Two frustrated women, their miserly, wealthy father, and their hated stepmother.
Lizzie, the younger sister, longed to be part of Fall River high society, but despite her father’s wealth, she and her sister were kept out and forced to live a miserable life well below the family’s means.
Lizzie was charged with the double murder but was acquitted.
The Victorian all-male jury of the day could not fathom a respectable spinster committing such a crime.
I try to put the details out of my mind as I wait for Alex. I hear a hearty laugh from the office and Alex, followed by Mr. Chambers, walks back into the living room. They exchange pleasantries, and Alex and I head out the front door.
“You up for a little walk, Emma?” Alex asks. He peers up at the putty-colored sky.
“That’s fine. Did you get all of the answers to your questions?”
“Yes. Mr. Chambers is a wealth of knowledge. He’s spent his life studying the Borden murders.”
It amazes me that someone could be that intrigued by violent death. Alex seems enthralled at the notion, but that makes sense given what he writes.
We spend the next half hour exploring the streets of Fall River. Alex stops occasionally and peruses his historic map. He points out the places where different buildings stood back in Lizzie’s day.
Rain begins to fall and we dash for an awning in front of a hardware store. “Let’s stop at that diner.” Alex points to a small restaurant across the street. “We can grab some lunch and dry off.”
We sit in a booth near the plate glass window where we can look out on the busy street. We each have a burger and fries. Alex drinks from a bottle of craft beer, while I sip water, my appetite nowhere in sight.
Alex looks over his notes. “I studied the Borden case, of course, for years. But getting the lay of the land helps with those details that bring the story alive, makes the reader feel like they are right there in the action.”
“It’s an interesting town,” I say, feeling cold from the rain.
Alex looks up from his notes. “The real sticking point of the whole thing is how did Lizzie not get covered in blood? She killed her stepmother first, striking her about twenty times with the axe. There must’ve been blood everywhere.
They theorize that she went to the basement and washed up, then killed her father later, then would’ve had to wash up again.
When the authorities searched, they saw no obvious signs of blood on her, but she must’ve been covered at some point.
” Alex taps the table with his fingers. “This is where I’ve introduced another character, the actual killer in my story.
But do I have him working with Lizzie or committing the acts without her knowledge?
That I’m still debating. In any case, my story actually makes more sense than the official theory that Lizzie was the killer acting alone.
I just don’t see how she could’ve gotten rid of so much blood evidence in such a short time. ”
I pick up my burger. Ketchup drips onto the plate. I set it back down without taking a bite.
Alex smiles. “Sorry, I get carried away. Not a great discussion over lunch.”
“It’s fine,” I say. The rain has stopped, leaving behind puddles at the edges of the street.
“Anyway, I’m glad you’re here, Emma.”
I had learned that Lizzie’s sister’s name was Emma, another thing to make the trip more sinister. “I’m glad I am, too,” I say, although I’m not so sure.
“Family is everything. And I’ve missed out on knowing you. What was your life like?”
I glance out at the street where a group of teenagers shout and prance as they walk by.
“Well, it was different. Mom and I moved a lot, like I told you. It was hard to get to know anyone. And I didn’t have any family.
Mom was estranged from her parents, and they were out in California anyway. We tended to stay on the east coast.”
“Life was hard?”
I sit up straighter. “Yes, it was. Money was tight.” I remember my mother searching coat pockets looking for change to give me for school lunch.
Trying to bargain with bill collectors on the phone.
Just a little more time. Leaving tiny apartments in the middle of the night to avoid paying back-due rent.
Alex shakes his head. “God, I wish I’d known. I hate that you struggled.” He drains his beer and looks around for our server. “Anyway, I’ll help you any way I can now.”
“I appreciate that.”
“What are your plans, long-term?”
“I’m not sure. I’m going to look for a job. I don’t have any plans to go back to Albany.” I wonder if he’s had a chance to straighten out my ex’s loan situation. I hope he brings it up.
Instead, he sits back, wipes his hands on his napkin. “I can find you something in Boston.”
But that’s not what I want. My mind wanders to the Maine coast. That is what is drawing me. Boston is a nice city, but I want small town, the ocean. I decide to keep my Portland interview to myself for now. “Thank you. I’ll think about it.”
“Well, whatever you decide, Emma, remember that you have family now, and we’ll do everything we can to help.”
The rain is falling in sheets as we drive toward Boston, the windshield wipers swishing at top speed.
I cringe back into the seat every time a car passes us, water fanning and hitting our car like a whip.
Alex’s phone has been ringing nonstop, and he carries on work conversations aloud through the console.
Between calls he apologizes, but that’s fine with me.
Small talk is not my strength and, for all his kind words and offers of support, he is still a virtual stranger. I don’t know what to say to him.
As we near Boston, the phone rings once again. Sunny.
“Where are you, Dad?” Her words are clipped.
“Almost back. Twenty minutes from Boston. We ran a little long.”
“You didn’t forget Liliana’s appointment, did you?”
“Shit.”
“I’ll take that as a yes. The appointment’s not until four thirty, so you’ll just make it.”
“All right. I’ll head to the apartment.”
“Are you coming back to Cheshire Lake tonight?”
Alex sighs. “No, probably not. I should stay at the apartment with Liliana.”
“What about Emma?”
Alex glances over at me. “She’ll be back. She can take my car.”
“Fine.”
Alex ends the call. “Sorry, change of plans. I need to take Liliana to a doctor’s appointment. But you can head back to the lake in my car, and I’ll come up when I can. I’ll drive Liliana’s since the doctor doesn’t want her driving anyway.”
I wonder how his wife feels about him spending so much time at the lake when she’s about to have a baby, but this doesn’t seem to faze him.
I get the impression that Alex does pretty much as he pleases.
He seems to have rationalized that Liliana is perfectly fine with her sister and a nurse in attendance while he is at the lake house.