Free City of Liars and Thieves by Eve Karlin Page B

tap water all the way from the Bronx.”
    “Our men are digging wells instead,” Levi said.
    “Wells?” The newspaper scrap fluttered in my hand. Somehow I knew it was meant for me. It was hurtful but ultimately harmless, mischief, the kind of thing meant to stir trouble. And it reeked of Richard Croucher. I was certain he had left it, though I was less sure why. If he had a bone to pick with Levi, he could do it himself. Still, there was something about Levi’s arrogance that begged response.
    “Thy men are digging wells at Lispenard’s Meadows?” I asked. The disgruntled man named Lispenard who spoke at the water meeting had referred to his land as a swamp.
    Levi’s challenging gaze met mine. “Yes.”
    “But that water’s filthy. Burr and thy brother promised freshwater.”
    Levi frowned, and for the first time I saw a clear resemblance to his older brother. “It can be fixed if street wash is kept out and people stop dumping garbage.” He looked at me so severely, it was almost as if he believed I tossed the trash there myself.
    “Digging wells is faster,” Elias said. “Water could be available this fall.”
    Should I have been impressed? Digging wells in a teeming cesspool instead of piping in freshwater seemed like a major concession.
    There was a knock on the door. When I went to answer, I found our neighbor Elizabeth Watkins wiping away tears.
    “I won’t come in,” she said, twisting the top button of her dress until it dangled by a thread. “It’s just that Lily Forrest died this morning. They’re taking her out now. I thought perhaps Charles shouldn’t see.”
    “Lily Forrest?” Charles was the same age as Lily, and the two often played together. I thought of her yellow ringlets, which we all admired, then shuddered, imagining them streaked red with blood.
Liars and thieves
. It was wrong to think the message was harmless. Polluted water was killing people. Not just people, but children.
Liars, thieves, and murderers.
    “It started early yesterday with hiccups, then the whites of her eyes turned yellow; her lips too,” Elizabeth said, clearly savoring each gory detail. “After supper, the poor dear started vomiting black bile by the mouthful, and when she cried, her tears were as bloody as a demon’s. Lorena was screaming loud enough to wake the—”
    Mumbling an excuse, I shut the door in Elizabeth’s face. To my eye, her complexion had a distinctly yellow hue.
    “Elias,” I said, turning to him, “it’s high time we take the children to Cornwall; the sooner the better.”
    Elias rubbed his temples, where gray hairs were rapidly overtaking brown curls. “Every person with a dung cart or carriage has fled to Greenwich or Harlem Village. Next there will be vagrants on the streets, robbers looting and burning homes.” He shook his head, gazing toward the store door. “Even if goods are rotting, I have to stay and protect what’s left.”
    I was sympathetic to his plight, but I was also scared, frightened of vagabonds and disease. “Then I’ll go with the children. Elma will come with us.”
    Elias scraped his chair away from the table. “It may be best.”
    “Elma,” I said, breathing a sigh of relief, “if we start packing now, we can catch tomorrow’s boat.”
    “Caty,” she said, “I can’t go.”
    “Why on earth not?”
    “If I go, who will care for the men?”
    I lowered my voice. “They’ll make do. Even Elias thinks it’s necessary.”
    “It
is
necessary for you and the children. But I will stay.”
    I understood her desire to prove herself but not her timing. “Elma, dozens are dying each day. Let’s not argue—”
    “I’m not arguing,” she said, raising her chin. “I’m insisting.”
    If I could have left immediately, I would have. Concern for the children surpassed all other worries. Distracted by fear and grateful that Elma was charitable enough to remain behind and care for the men, I did not have time to question her motives.

Chapter