“He asked to speak with you.”
“What about?”
“Just get in here. He isn’t a man to be kept waiting.” He motioned Ethan into the chamber.
Taking a long, steadying breath, Ethan entered.
The chamber was empty save for the sheriff and a man who sat behind the grand, dark wood court’s bench at the far end of the chamber. Seeing the man, Ethan understood at last, and he chided himself for not reasoning it out sooner. The chief justice of the province also happened to be the lieutenant governor. Thomas Hutchinson.
Ethan walked to the bench and stopped in front of Hutchinson. The man regarded him appraisingly for a moment.
“That’s all, Sheriff,” Hutchinson said. “Thank you.”
Greenleaf let himself out of the chamber, closing the door behind him.
Hutchinson faced Ethan once more, and for what felt like several minutes, as their eyes remained locked, they were like foes in a card game, each taking the measure of the other. Hutchinson was a tall man and he sat forward in his chair, his shoulders thrust back slightly, which gave him a barrel-chested look despite his slender build. He had large, dark eyes, a high forehead, and a long, prominent nose. The curls of his powdered wig framed his face. His clothes were simple, but immaculate: a black suit with a white shirt and cravat. His eyes were bloodshot and there were dark rings under them. He looked to Ethan like he hadn’t slept in days.
“I hope you weren’t inconvenienced much by my summons,” Hutchinson finally said. He didn’t ask Ethan to sit, so Ethan remained as he was and answered.
“No, Your Honor.”
“I understand there was an incident.”
“Sir?”
“At the tavern, where they found you. A man was injured. A friend of yours.”
Ethan didn’t know what to say. Had the sheriff told Hutchinson about the attack on Diver? And if so, how had he explained what happened?
“Well?” the lieutenant governor said, sounding impatient.
“There was, Your Honor. One of the sheriff’s men… my friend thought that he meant to hurt me, and he-”
“The man shoved you from behind,” Hutchinson said, his tone brusque.
“That’s right.”
The lieutenant governor nodded once. “The sheriff will speak with him.” He cleared his throat. “I take it you’ve heard of what was done to my home two nights ago.”
Hutchinson was a strange sort. On the one hand, his manner was haughty-abrasively so. And yet he had just shown Ethan, and Diver as well, more consideration than Ethan would have expected from a man of his station, particularly one whose home had recently been wrecked by the very people he was expected to govern.
“Yes, Your Honor,” Ethan said. “I walked by there yesterday. I’m sorry for how you and your family have suffered.”
The corners of Hutchinson’s mouth quirked upward into a fleeting, bitter smile. “Seeing it from the street, you would have no idea of how we’ve suffered. The damage to the exterior was nothing compared to what those devils did to the inside. They demolished every wall and every door in the house, leaving it nothing more than a shell. They left not a single piece of furniture whole. They stole my wife’s jewels, took every bit of clothing any of us owned, took every book in my library. They shattered or stole our plates and glasses, they walked off with our food and drink. They stole nine hundred pounds, and pieces of silver that had belonged to my father, and his father before him.”
The litany came easily to the man; Ethan had the feeling that he had recited it many times in the last two days.
“They left me nothing,” Hutchinson went on. “And had I remained, rather than fleeing my own home like a thief in the night, I would have lost far more. As it is, I fear to show my face in the streets. I will be leaving Boston for our home in Milton in another day or so, and I’ll be taking my wife and children. I fear for their safety even more than I do for my own.”
“Again, Your Honor, you have my deepest sympathy,” Ethan said. “No one should be treated so. But if you believe that I-”
“I don’t,” Hutchinson broke in. “You’ve been hired by Abner Berson. Is that right?”
“Yes, sir,” Ethan said, narrowing his eyes. Why would the lieutenant governor of Massachusetts take an interest in his business dealings? And what else did Hutchinson know about him?
“You wonder how I heard of this.”
“I assume you have it from Mister Berson himself, or from a mutual acquaintance,” Ethan said. “What I wonder is why the inquiries of a common thieftaker should draw the notice of a man of your importance.”
Hutchinson frowned, which served to give his face a fearsome aspect. “If you need to ask, Mister Kaille, I must recommend to Berson that he reconsider the faith he’s placed in you. Isn’t it obvious? The same villains who abused my family and me with such violence are responsible for the death of Berson’s daughter.”
“You know this as fact, Your Honor?”
“I know it from what I’ve seen, from what was done to me. This mob was whipped to a frenzy, not just that night, but over the course of weeks. It was bad enough what was done to Oliver’s properties. But then to compound it like this.” He had been speaking very quickly and he paused now, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, and dabbed at his upper lip with a shaking hand. “They were exhorted to these acts of barbarism by James Otis and Peter Darrow and Samuel Adams, and every other carnival barker who claims to be a champion of… of liberty.” He said the word as if it were an imprecation. “And then they were directed through the streets by that cutthroat, Ebenezer Mackintosh.” He dabbed again at his lip, folded the handkerchief, and stuffed it back in his pocket. “If you want to find Jennifer Berson’s killer, I would suggest you start with him.”
“With Mackintosh, sir?”
“He is being held down the street at the gaol. At least for the moment. Already his brethren are agitating for his release, as if he had been arrested merely for being drunk. They revere him so. What is it the rabble call him? The Commander of the South End, or some such nonsense? And Captain Mackintosh. As if such a man could be captain of anything.”
“Yes, sir.”
Hutchinson regarded him briefly, suspicion in his gaze. “Do you know Mackintosh, Mister Kaille?”
“Only by reputation.”
“And what reputation would that be?”
“Merely that he has a following among those who march on Pope’s Day, and that whatever his faults, he’s respected by the men in the street.”
“I see.” Hutchinson considered Ethan for several seconds. “Perhaps I should have asked this earlier. Are you one of these so-called Sons of Liberty?”
“I’m a son of the British Empire, Your Honor. I sailed in the Mediterranean under Admiral Matthews and would have fought the French in Canada if I’d had the opportunity.”
Hutchinson looked impressed. “You sailed with Matthews?” he asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Who was your captain?”
“Thomas Cooper, sir.”
Hutchinson’s eyebrows went up. “You were on the Stirling Castle? At Toulon?”
“Yes, sir.”
The lieutenant governor actually smiled. “Well, then perhaps it is I who should reconsider my first impression. You must understand; a man hears things, and it’s not always easy to know what to make of them.”
“I do understand, sir. I’m sure much of what you’ve heard about me is true.”
Hutchinson’s smile faded slowly. “I see. Well, Mister Kaille, I merely wished to tell you what I knew about the events of two nights past. The mob that attacked my home showed utter disregard for both our personal well-being and our property. I have it from Abner Berson himself that his daughter was not only murdered, she was also robbed. The similarity between these incidents is obvious to me, and I would hope it is to you, as well.”
“I understand, Your Honor.” He tried to keep his voice level, but apparently he failed.
