Read Online The Linnet Bird: A Novel by Linda Holeman - Free Book Online Page B

could taste it, foul and cold. I tried to swallow, or to spit it out, but could do neither. Nothing—not my mouth or my throat—worked.
    “She’s sinking, Gib. Quick, help me pull it up. It’s a box of some kind. Help me haul ’er in, man. Put your elbow into it.”
    “It’s too heavy. Here, hook this rope through the handle. We’ll drag it in to shore.”
    The water swirled over my face momentarily and then I felt myself lifted. My mouth was now full of water. At the next lurching movement, I grew aware of a heaviness against my back, pressure, something pushing at me.
    I was in a box—was it a coffin?
Am I dead?
The water threatened to choke me, a comfort, for I knew I must be alive. But where was I and what was I doing, moving along the river with something heavy shoving into my back? I heard the bottom of a skiff scraping the rough stones on the water’s edge. Then the box was dragged up on the stones. I felt the vibration of them rolling under me, but still couldn’t move, couldn’t make a sound.
    “It’s a trunk. One of them big traveling ones. Let’s get her open, Willy. Could be somethin’ right valuable.”
    “I’m trying.”
    “Is there a lock?”
    “No. But the latches are right tight. That’s a good sign. Maybe there wasn’t a chance for too much water to get in. Here, I got the last one, and—Jesus have mercy!”
    There was a rush of freezing air and silence. I knew now that my eyes were closed; I could see nothing.
    “It’s two girls,” the softer voice, the one I knew was Willy, finally said.
    “I can see that, can’t I? Lookit how they’s layin’. Like spoons. And what’s all them jars? They’re empty. Not even lids.”
    “I don’t know, do I? Jesus, Gib. What are we to do?”
    “They’re dead for sure, ain’t they, Willy?”
    “Must be. Lying so still like that.” I heard the rustle of clothing and the softer voice came almost in my face. “Although they ain’t dead by drowning; only half their heads is underwater.” I smelled the beery stench of his breath.
    “You’re right. That front one looks about the age of your youngest, Willy.” There was a tug on my shoulder. “Stabbed. Right in the heart, from what I can see.”
    “Same with the other?”
    More rustling, more movement, this time the weight behind me shifting.
    “Nope. This one has her throat cut. Maybe there’s something of value on the bodies.”
    “Not likely. Nobody’d go to the bother of killing ’em and throwing ’em in the river without first taking any valuables.”
    “Hey, Willy, maybe we could sell ’em to them sawbones up at the infirmary.”
    The second voice grew loud. “I ain’t about to get messed up with no body snatching.”
    “Keep yer voice down, Willy. We ain’t takin’ ’em from the graveyard. They come floatin’ to us, fair and square.”
    “No, I won’t do it. I ain’t selling these girls to them with bloodied hands so they can do their dirty work. Bad business, that is, cuttin’ up the dead for their own learnin’. And we’ve got nothin’ to wrap ’em in, and nothing to haul ’em in. No. I won’t do it, Gib,” he repeated.
    I heard a soft rasp that might have been a hand scrubbing over a stubbled face. “Could be you’re right. If we was to get caught with two dead girls . . .” A sigh. Now I heard the skiff rubbing on the stones in the kissing lift and fall of the shallow water on the bank. “But them dresses might fetch us somethin’, Willy.” The voice rose hopefully.
    “There’s a lot of blood. And it looks like the green one is cut down the front.”
    “But the blood is fresh. It would wash out easy. And my good woman is right handy with a needle and thread. We could sell ’em down at the market. That flowery one looks pricy. It might bring in a shilling or two. And the trunk itself, well, surely it would fetch a good price. Go ahead, Willy. Start on the green one. I’ll get this one off. And throw out the goddamn jars.”
    There were