Free Death in Salem by Eleanor Kuhns

could have brought her with him, to enjoy this vivid scene.
    It took more than an hour for the ship to leave its mooring and slowly sail out upon the tide, its square white sails catching the wind. The American flag snapped jauntily in the breeze. Rees remained until the Hindoo Queen became a black silhouette against the glare of the early morning sun. He wanted to remember everything so he could describe it to Lydia. It would be second best to her seeing it for herself, but would have to do. Then he found a tavern by the waterfront, where most of the customers were sailors with cotton bandannas around their throats and tattoos were common. Although a woman might frequent the Moon and Stars in the company of a gentleman escort, women would not be welcome in this establishment. It was little more than a grogshop.
    Feeling rather out of place, Rees found an empty seat and ordered breakfast. The slangy conversations that swirled around him were as incomprehensible to him as Greek. While he waited for his food, he stared at the scenes playing out on every side as though they were some entertainment put on for his benefit. A man with skin as black as a kitchen kettle and scarified dots across his forehead sat at a nearby table. A few stools away Rees spotted a man with something—was that a bone?—thrust through his nose. But when his plate of bacon, fish, and cornbread arrived, along with his coffee, he reminded himself he had work to do and reluctantly turned his attention to it. He made a mental list of tasks. First, see the tunnels, specifically where Mr. Boothe was found. Who had found him? That was a question he should have asked before. Second, talk to Twig again. And third, speak to Matthew Boothe and probably to Miss Peggy as well. He scraped his plate clean and although he could have eaten a piece of pie he decided not to spend any more time here. Throwing three pennies down beside his plate, Rees left the tavern and started back to Mrs. Baldwin’s.
    *   *   *
    He retraced his steps north past the wharves, to the lane he’d walked down to reach this busy harbor. When he reached the house where he and Billy had seen Annie at the window, a tall man whose skin was burned dark by the hotter, brighter sun in foreign climes was sweeping the front steps. He too wore a head covering, but instead of tunic and trousers, he was dressed in a long gown. He looked at Rees suspiciously when he slowed to stare at this man in a dress. The crisp citrusy scent of boxwood mingled with the sweeter fragrance of the roses growing by the fence.
    â€œMustafa.” The young maid—Annie—opened the door and called out. “Come quickly, Miss Mary needs you.”
    With a final glare at Rees, Mustafa turned and followed Annie inside. Through the door, Rees saw a rich carpet and a chandelier. Several women in wrappers glided by the opening before Mustafa slammed it shut. Rees realized with a start that this house was one of the Salem brothels. He did not like to think of young Annie inside, witnessing God knew what, and exposed to all manner of behaviors. If that were Jerusha inside, Rees would storm the front door and snatch her away. But, reluctantly, he accepted the fact he could do nothing for Annie, and he continued on.
    By returning to Mrs. Baldwin’s Emporium, Rees was able to orient himself and find his way northwest to the Boothe house. He realized as he plodded along Essex that he could have cut through one of the cross streets instead of walking south and then north again. The Boothe house, like many other fine houses built by the merchants, lay near the Commons but within easy reach of the harbor.
    The servant who answered the door eyed Rees’s worn clothing askance and reluctantly invited him inside. “Miss Peggy is expecting you,” he said, his tone gruff with disapproval.
    â€œMasters William and Matthew as well?” Rees asked.
    â€œMr. Boothe,” the servant