A Conspiracy to Murder, 1865 by T.L.B. Wood

Author:T.L.B. Wood [Wood, T.L.B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-64457-029-6
Publisher: ePublishing Works!

Sixteen

The appearance of the interior of the townhouse, by the time we arrived back on H Street, was greatly improved. The dustcovers had been removed, the floors were swept, and the meager pieces of furniture cluttering the wide board flooring had been polished so that the scratched, marred surfaces shone where the sunlight fell upon the wood in splashes of golden warmth. The room smelled of beeswax and lemon, the latter of which overpowered the previous staleness that hung suspended like a fog. Our original plans to visit a dry goods store were postponed because I felt a good debriefing was more important. Something had happened to shake the normally imperturbable Elani, and I needed to investigate.

“I arranged, with the management at the National, a catered hot meal daily,” Peter began. “It’s a little costly, but unless one of us wants to cook all the time, it is the best I can figure. One of their busboys will bring it around noon time.”

“Don’t look at me to be the chef,” I replied, satisfied with the arrangement and not concerned with the money. “We will still go to a dry goods store and get some items we can use to supplement or prepare here,” I added, soothing his worry. He’d done fine, and we could always change the arrangement with the National at any time. It was important to get the essentials, such as food, lodging and clothing, taken care of up front so that one’s mind would be clear for the work of telepathy and sleuthing.

“I’m interested in everyone’s impressions of John Wilkes Booth,” I began. We were in the front parlor of the townhouse; I was perched on the edge of a worn loveseat that had seen better days. There was a broken spring or something else equally annoying digging into my backside; I shifted slightly, trying to get comfortable. “Peter?”

“He struck me, from my brief impression, as aggressively projecting the image he wants people to see. All humans do that to some degree but even more so in him.” Peter was sitting across from me in a chair that didn’t look any more comfortable than my loveseat, and his spine was crammed against a high, unyielding, wooden back. He’d turned the chair to benefit from the warmth of the stove, which the workers had thoughtfully ignited before they left. “He is calculating, vain, preening, and I got an impression of an underlying lack of true self confidence.”

I’d removed my hat, glad to be free of it, placing it on a side table. Glancing up, I noticed, with satisfaction, that the parlor’s front windows had also been cleaned. From outside came the loud voices of some people in the midst of a dispute. It was easy, without discipline, to become distracted by so many human minds, but the ability to tune unneeded thoughts out was one of our necessary skills.

“Yes, I felt the same,” I remarked. “His surface thoughts were consumed with wanting to be seen as a chivalrous man to me, thinking I was a woman he wanted to impress.

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