Free What Alice Knew by Paula Marantz Cohen

for dinner tonight?”
    “The oysters with mushrooms, as Miss Katherine taught me, if yer not agin it, mum. I know Mr. James likes it. I think he diden say no to two helpins last time.”
    “The oysters with mushrooms?” recalled Henry, pleased. “I think I didn’t say no to three helpings, now that you mention it.”
    “You mayn’t be wrong there, sir.”
    “Thank you, Sally. I think that will do for now,” said Alice.
    “Extraordinary!” exclaimed William, after the girl left. “I’ll have to write a paper on the use of the double negative locution in lower-class British speech.”
    “It could be a boon to your social reformers,” said Henry. “Teach the unfortunate to speak in positive declarative statements and eradicate poverty.”
    “There’s something to that, you know, language as social destiny,” mused William. “I wonder what Spencer and the Darwinians would make of it—”
    “Yes, well, you can debate the linguistic fine points of the impoverished classes another time,” Alice intervened. “I was only proving the point that the message you mentioned was probably written by an illiterate cockney with a conventional grudge against the Jews. The Jews and the Irish are always useful scapegoats when there’s no one else to blame.”
    “But there was also the odd spelling of the message,” noted William. “As I said, Jews was spelled J-u-w-e-s. Warren thinks that it may be some secret reference, perhaps from some book used in the inner circles of the race.”
    “Nonsense!” asserted Alice angrily. “It’s simple illiteracy. Besides, the point could be easily checked. Don’t you know any Jews you can query on the subject, Henry?”
    “I could ask Lady Asbury. She was Jewish once.”
    “Not Lady Asbury!” said Alice. “She’s the last person who would know. Either the chief rabbi of London or Samuel Isaacson, who owns the pawnshop down the street. But certainly not Lady Asbury.”
    “Perhaps the murderer is an anarchist,” Henry proffered, changing tacks. “Very unpredictable sorts of people. Or a member of one of the purity leagues. Some of those women are lunatics; give them a knife—”
    “I believe your imagination is running away with you,” chided Alice brusquely. “As I see it, the idea of a conspiracy is unlikely. The letters printed in the newspapers make no mention of a cause or an allegiance. And there hasn’t been any of the secret insignia or code words that such groups go in for. No—as I see it, the murders are the work of a singular, demented individual. But even a demented mind must have a motive in order to kill with such regularity and pattern.”
    “Yes.” William nodded. “There is generally a method in madness if one supplies the right context. Knowing childhood influences, forms of abuse, disappointments, rivalries, and so forth can provide the logic for seemingly incoherent behavior. There is never an effect without a cause.”
    “That’s a law to be respected in the writing of fiction,” piped in Henry, who was feeling left out. “It’s Louis Stevenson’s problem, in my opinion. His effects exceed their causes.”
    Neither his brother nor sister appeared to care.
    “When you see the letters, perhaps you’ll be able to supply the context and deduce the cause,” Alice instructed William. “Pay special attention to the quality of the paper and the ink. Look for patterns in the formation of letters. Note the sentence formation, the use of fragmentary exclamations, and repeated words.”
    “I think, as a trained scientist, I know what to look for,” William responded. “I am familiar with standard methods of research and investigation.”
    “Yes, but it’s always good to be reminded. And you’re not trained in the investigation of murder.”
    “And you are?”
    “No,” acknowledged Alice, “but I’ve had more time to think about it. I lie in bed and imagine what might have happened. I have been doing such things since