FIC: Gen: The Case of the Yankee Spinster, PG, Chapters 6 and 7
Title: The Case of the Yankee Spinster, Chapters 6 and 7
Author: Alex
Type: Gen
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: This story is based on a factual case. I do not own the Holmes characters.
Warnings: Description of brutal murders.
Beta: Larry, Larian, Luin
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Mary Watson, Lizzie Borden.
Archive: Oeam, Archive of our Own, Alex’s Story Book
Author’s Note: This is my entry in the 1st annual OEAM Big Bang fiction challenge
Spoilers: Not really
Summary: What if Holmes had been asked to investigate the Borden murders?
~~~
Chapter Six - Miss Sullivan
I did not rest well. I missed my wife and this whole business was already testing my nerves, though we had only begun our investigation. Holmes was the true consulting detective and I was only his aid but I still had my own ideas already. I did not like Miss Lizzie Borden. A colder or more selfish woman I had seldom met. I only hoped that the other Miss Borden gave me a better feeling about the whole thing.
I met Holmes in the dining room for breakfast. Well, I ate breakfast while Holmes read the papers and sipped tea. He never seemed to need much food and seemed to need no food when he was on the hunt. I knew by his lack of appetite that his interest in this case had risen considerably.
“What is your plan for today, Holmes?”
“I plan on seeing Miss Borden and I plan on you seeing Miss Sullivan if possible.”
“What shall I ask her?”
“I want to know what happened the day of the murders. Just that.”
And so I set out to do just that. Miss Sullivan was now working as maid for the jailer of New Bedford and so I sent a telegram and set out, hoping that she would get it before I arrived. I took a coach and expected to arrive in the afternoon.
Mr. Jennings had made arrangements for me to interview Miss Sullivan at a local law office in New Bedford.
Miss Sullivan arrived at the appointed time. She was a rather pretty girl, taller than Miss Borden with strong attractive features and long dark hair. I found her much more pleasant than Miss Borden. Her Irish brogue was not so pronounced, as she had lived in the Americas for some years.
“Good day, Miss Sullivan. I am John Watson and my partner, Mr. Holmes, and I are investigating the murders of Mr. and Mrs. Borden.”
She smiled and shook my hand.
“They said you wanted to talk to me. I done told them all I remember.” She said the words but her demeanor was not one of irritation. She actually seemed rather eager to please.
“Miss Borden’s lawyers wanted some new ears to listen to your story and make sure that all is ready for the trial.”
She nodded.
“Do you know why Mrs. Borden picked that day for you to clean the windows?”
She looked startled by the question then she answered. “She said she was to have guests on the next Monday and she wanted everything tidied for them.”
“Did the Bordens have guests often?”
“Well, John Morse came sometimes to visit Mr. Borden and sometimes Miss Lizzie or Miss Emma had company.”
“But not Mrs. Borden?”
“Mrs. Borden mostly visited her sister. That was all.”
“Was her sister coming to stay?”
“No, sir. She only lived down the street.”
“Was Miss Emma home?”
“No. She was away.”
“Did she go away often?”
“Oh no. Miss Emma stayed home mostly. Miss Lizzie went out a lot but not Miss Emma.”
“Did you see anything strange that morning?”
“The day of murders? No, Mr. Watson. I did my windows after I cleaned up my kitchen and did my dishes. I had a headache and rested a bit ‘til Miss Lizzie yelled that I must come, that someone had killed Mr. Borden.”
“Was Miss Lizzie upset?”
“Oh yessir. She was. She wouldn’t let me look at him. She sent me for the doctor.”
“Did she cry?”
“I don’t think so, sir.”
“How did you like the Bordens?”
“I liked Miss Lizzie and Miss Emma. Miss Lizzie was good to me.”
“Did she call you Maggie?”
“She and Miss Emma both did.”
“Did you mind?”
“Oh, no. Maggie sounds ever so much nicer than Bridget, don’t you think? They call all us Irish girls Bridget.”
I smiled. I noted to myself that she was well dressed for a servant girl.
“Was Miss Lizzie ever angry with Mr. Borden?”
“She was when he killed her pigeons. Some of the neighbor boys were breaking into the barn for the pigeons Lizzie kept there and Mr. Borden killed them to keep the boys away.”
“Did she stay mad for long?”
“Miss Lizzie was always mad for a long time when she got mad.”
“Did he apologize to her?”
“No. Mr. Borden never apologized to nobody that I knowed about.”
“Did Miss Lizzie get along with her stepmother?”
“As far as I could see, she did.”
“Were they friendly?”
“They were - polite, Mr. Watson. Miss Emma had never cared for Mrs. Borden and I think that is why Miss Lizzie didn’t either.”
“No one argued on that day?”
“Not that I heard, but I was outside lots of the morning. They didn’t argue at breakfast then after that, Mr. Borden was gone. Lizzie said Mrs. Borden had a note and left too so there was no one home but Lizzie to be a arguing.”
“Did you see Mrs. Borden go out?”
“No sir but Miss Lizzie said she did.”
“You had no reason to doubt her?”
“No, Mr. Watson. Like I said, I liked Miss Lizzie and as far as I know, she never lied to me.”
“You never saw anyone at all come into the house?”
“No. Not while I was outdoors anyway. I let Mr. Borden in when he came back from his rounds.”
“Did he not have a key?”
“The door was locked on the inside. Them Bordens were funny about locking doors.”
“Really? How so?”
“They’d had some things go missing and so they locked their doors. Mr. and Mrs. Borden kept their bedroom door locked and the doors to the outside were almost always locked.”
“It would be hard for someone to just walk in?”
“Oh yes. I don’t see how they could.”
“But they did?”
“I - uh, yes, I suppose so.”
I thanked her for her time and left her. Miss Sullivan was certainly more pleasant than Miss Borden. There was no doubt of that. Was she telling the truth? I wasn’t sure what she was lying about but I was fairly sure that she was indeed lying.
~~~
Chapter Seven - Holmes’ Meeting with Lizzie
Holmes was late getting back to the hotel so I waited for him. I wrote to Mary and read the local papers. There were still stories about the Borden murders and there were lines drawn: those who were supporters of Lizzie and those who were not. The stories about Miss Borden made her look as if she were either an angel flown down from heaven above to save the world or the daughter of the devil himself. I am not sure which side I fell on. I did not like her at all but she did not seem to be a cold blooded killer either.
Or did she?
Holmes and I had seen our fair share of monsters, many of whom looked much sweeter than Miss Borden. I decided to let Holmes decide, a task I was sure that he was more than able to do than I was.
Holmes looked tired but energized when he returned. I was sitting in the lobby, reading the evening paper when he arrived. He ordered tea brought to his rooms and motioned for me to follow. I folded my paper and gladly did as I was bid.
He took forever to put his coat and hat away and then he decided to change into this dressing gown and slippers. He packed his pipe with tobacco and sat to wait for the boy to bring our tea before lighting it. I didn’t ask him anything; I knew better. The anticipation was part of the show, and he did enjoy putting on a show for me.
Finally we were alone and there were no interruptions.
“So?” I leaned forward in my chair.
“What?”
“What did you think of Miss Lizzie?”
“More important is how did you find Miss Sullivan?”
“She was engaging, polite and rather pretty. And she was lying. Not big lies, I think, but lies just the same.”
He nodded and puffed on his pipe. I wanted to wring his neck but knew that he’d talk when he was ready.
“Miss Borden was happy to meet me. I am, evidently, well known enough to impress even her.”
I waited for him to go on.
“She told me all about her trip to the continent several years ago and all about her stay in London. We let it rain too much for her but what can one do? She adored her papa and her stepmother and can’t imagine that anyone would ever hurt Papa. By omission, I assume she could imagine someone killing Mrs. Borden.”
“Did I think the Staunton jail was a fitting place for a lady of her station? Did I think her dress was as fashionable as the ladies in London wore? Was that Mr. Watson who spoke with her yesterday married?”
My jaw dropped at Miss Borden’s last question. Surely I had not shown any interest in her. Had I been a single man, the lively maidservant was much more my taste than the sour-faced spinster would ever be.
He continued. “She told me that she had no idea how anyone could have come into the house. She said that she was in the barn. She said that must have been when someone stole into the house and killed her father. She seemed to forget about Mrs. Borden all together.”
He drank deeply of his cooling tea. “Watson, she is a most unlikable woman but we must not let that convince us that she is guilty. We must follow the clues, not our feelings.”
I nodded. He was all too right. It would be so easy to condemn Miss Borden because of her unpleasant demeanor. That would be a huge mistake on our parts and might let the monster who’d killed these two elderly people so malevolently go free. We could not let that happen. We would press on, following Holmes’ scientific and deductive methods until they led us at last to the truth, whatever that might be.
“What did you find from your experiments from the house?” I asked, deciding that I’d feel better not talking about Miss Borden herself.
“I am not quite finished. I shall make another trip out to the house. I have more tests.”
That was all he’d say too. Holmes did not speculate often. He waited until he had evidence and then sprang his trap.
“Our employers contacted me after I met Miss Borden today. They’d like to dine with us at eight to discuss our progress in the case,” he said almost as an aside.
“We have no progress to report yet, do we?”
“Not really but I’d like to ask the lawyers a few questions too. Perhaps they see things in a different light than we do.”
That was not something that sounded like Holmes. He was going fishing but what for, I didn’t yet know. I actually figured that he already knew who killed Mr. and Mrs. Borden and probably the how and why but I also knew that I’d find out when he decided I needed to know. Sometimes by not telling me things, he kept my own observations untainted and free from opinion other than my own. In other words, I do think that I was of some use to Holmes in this case, as in all cases he undertakes.
We parted, me going to my own room to dress for dinner and Sherlock to his experiments, I suspected. We’d meet in time to dine with Robinson and Jennings. I was interested to see what they had to ask us and what they could tell us.
~~
Author: Alex
Type: Gen
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: This story is based on a factual case. I do not own the Holmes characters.
Warnings: Description of brutal murders.
Beta: Larry, Larian, Luin
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Mary Watson, Lizzie Borden.
Archive: Oeam, Archive of our Own, Alex’s Story Book
Author’s Note: This is my entry in the 1st annual OEAM Big Bang fiction challenge
Spoilers: Not really
Summary: What if Holmes had been asked to investigate the Borden murders?
~~~
Chapter Six - Miss Sullivan
I did not rest well. I missed my wife and this whole business was already testing my nerves, though we had only begun our investigation. Holmes was the true consulting detective and I was only his aid but I still had my own ideas already. I did not like Miss Lizzie Borden. A colder or more selfish woman I had seldom met. I only hoped that the other Miss Borden gave me a better feeling about the whole thing.
I met Holmes in the dining room for breakfast. Well, I ate breakfast while Holmes read the papers and sipped tea. He never seemed to need much food and seemed to need no food when he was on the hunt. I knew by his lack of appetite that his interest in this case had risen considerably.
“What is your plan for today, Holmes?”
“I plan on seeing Miss Borden and I plan on you seeing Miss Sullivan if possible.”
“What shall I ask her?”
“I want to know what happened the day of the murders. Just that.”
And so I set out to do just that. Miss Sullivan was now working as maid for the jailer of New Bedford and so I sent a telegram and set out, hoping that she would get it before I arrived. I took a coach and expected to arrive in the afternoon.
Mr. Jennings had made arrangements for me to interview Miss Sullivan at a local law office in New Bedford.
Miss Sullivan arrived at the appointed time. She was a rather pretty girl, taller than Miss Borden with strong attractive features and long dark hair. I found her much more pleasant than Miss Borden. Her Irish brogue was not so pronounced, as she had lived in the Americas for some years.
“Good day, Miss Sullivan. I am John Watson and my partner, Mr. Holmes, and I are investigating the murders of Mr. and Mrs. Borden.”
She smiled and shook my hand.
“They said you wanted to talk to me. I done told them all I remember.” She said the words but her demeanor was not one of irritation. She actually seemed rather eager to please.
“Miss Borden’s lawyers wanted some new ears to listen to your story and make sure that all is ready for the trial.”
She nodded.
“Do you know why Mrs. Borden picked that day for you to clean the windows?”
She looked startled by the question then she answered. “She said she was to have guests on the next Monday and she wanted everything tidied for them.”
“Did the Bordens have guests often?”
“Well, John Morse came sometimes to visit Mr. Borden and sometimes Miss Lizzie or Miss Emma had company.”
“But not Mrs. Borden?”
“Mrs. Borden mostly visited her sister. That was all.”
“Was her sister coming to stay?”
“No, sir. She only lived down the street.”
“Was Miss Emma home?”
“No. She was away.”
“Did she go away often?”
“Oh no. Miss Emma stayed home mostly. Miss Lizzie went out a lot but not Miss Emma.”
“Did you see anything strange that morning?”
“The day of murders? No, Mr. Watson. I did my windows after I cleaned up my kitchen and did my dishes. I had a headache and rested a bit ‘til Miss Lizzie yelled that I must come, that someone had killed Mr. Borden.”
“Was Miss Lizzie upset?”
“Oh yessir. She was. She wouldn’t let me look at him. She sent me for the doctor.”
“Did she cry?”
“I don’t think so, sir.”
“How did you like the Bordens?”
“I liked Miss Lizzie and Miss Emma. Miss Lizzie was good to me.”
“Did she call you Maggie?”
“She and Miss Emma both did.”
“Did you mind?”
“Oh, no. Maggie sounds ever so much nicer than Bridget, don’t you think? They call all us Irish girls Bridget.”
I smiled. I noted to myself that she was well dressed for a servant girl.
“Was Miss Lizzie ever angry with Mr. Borden?”
“She was when he killed her pigeons. Some of the neighbor boys were breaking into the barn for the pigeons Lizzie kept there and Mr. Borden killed them to keep the boys away.”
“Did she stay mad for long?”
“Miss Lizzie was always mad for a long time when she got mad.”
“Did he apologize to her?”
“No. Mr. Borden never apologized to nobody that I knowed about.”
“Did Miss Lizzie get along with her stepmother?”
“As far as I could see, she did.”
“Were they friendly?”
“They were - polite, Mr. Watson. Miss Emma had never cared for Mrs. Borden and I think that is why Miss Lizzie didn’t either.”
“No one argued on that day?”
“Not that I heard, but I was outside lots of the morning. They didn’t argue at breakfast then after that, Mr. Borden was gone. Lizzie said Mrs. Borden had a note and left too so there was no one home but Lizzie to be a arguing.”
“Did you see Mrs. Borden go out?”
“No sir but Miss Lizzie said she did.”
“You had no reason to doubt her?”
“No, Mr. Watson. Like I said, I liked Miss Lizzie and as far as I know, she never lied to me.”
“You never saw anyone at all come into the house?”
“No. Not while I was outdoors anyway. I let Mr. Borden in when he came back from his rounds.”
“Did he not have a key?”
“The door was locked on the inside. Them Bordens were funny about locking doors.”
“Really? How so?”
“They’d had some things go missing and so they locked their doors. Mr. and Mrs. Borden kept their bedroom door locked and the doors to the outside were almost always locked.”
“It would be hard for someone to just walk in?”
“Oh yes. I don’t see how they could.”
“But they did?”
“I - uh, yes, I suppose so.”
I thanked her for her time and left her. Miss Sullivan was certainly more pleasant than Miss Borden. There was no doubt of that. Was she telling the truth? I wasn’t sure what she was lying about but I was fairly sure that she was indeed lying.
~~~
Chapter Seven - Holmes’ Meeting with Lizzie
Holmes was late getting back to the hotel so I waited for him. I wrote to Mary and read the local papers. There were still stories about the Borden murders and there were lines drawn: those who were supporters of Lizzie and those who were not. The stories about Miss Borden made her look as if she were either an angel flown down from heaven above to save the world or the daughter of the devil himself. I am not sure which side I fell on. I did not like her at all but she did not seem to be a cold blooded killer either.
Or did she?
Holmes and I had seen our fair share of monsters, many of whom looked much sweeter than Miss Borden. I decided to let Holmes decide, a task I was sure that he was more than able to do than I was.
Holmes looked tired but energized when he returned. I was sitting in the lobby, reading the evening paper when he arrived. He ordered tea brought to his rooms and motioned for me to follow. I folded my paper and gladly did as I was bid.
He took forever to put his coat and hat away and then he decided to change into this dressing gown and slippers. He packed his pipe with tobacco and sat to wait for the boy to bring our tea before lighting it. I didn’t ask him anything; I knew better. The anticipation was part of the show, and he did enjoy putting on a show for me.
Finally we were alone and there were no interruptions.
“So?” I leaned forward in my chair.
“What?”
“What did you think of Miss Lizzie?”
“More important is how did you find Miss Sullivan?”
“She was engaging, polite and rather pretty. And she was lying. Not big lies, I think, but lies just the same.”
He nodded and puffed on his pipe. I wanted to wring his neck but knew that he’d talk when he was ready.
“Miss Borden was happy to meet me. I am, evidently, well known enough to impress even her.”
I waited for him to go on.
“She told me all about her trip to the continent several years ago and all about her stay in London. We let it rain too much for her but what can one do? She adored her papa and her stepmother and can’t imagine that anyone would ever hurt Papa. By omission, I assume she could imagine someone killing Mrs. Borden.”
“Did I think the Staunton jail was a fitting place for a lady of her station? Did I think her dress was as fashionable as the ladies in London wore? Was that Mr. Watson who spoke with her yesterday married?”
My jaw dropped at Miss Borden’s last question. Surely I had not shown any interest in her. Had I been a single man, the lively maidservant was much more my taste than the sour-faced spinster would ever be.
He continued. “She told me that she had no idea how anyone could have come into the house. She said that she was in the barn. She said that must have been when someone stole into the house and killed her father. She seemed to forget about Mrs. Borden all together.”
He drank deeply of his cooling tea. “Watson, she is a most unlikable woman but we must not let that convince us that she is guilty. We must follow the clues, not our feelings.”
I nodded. He was all too right. It would be so easy to condemn Miss Borden because of her unpleasant demeanor. That would be a huge mistake on our parts and might let the monster who’d killed these two elderly people so malevolently go free. We could not let that happen. We would press on, following Holmes’ scientific and deductive methods until they led us at last to the truth, whatever that might be.
“What did you find from your experiments from the house?” I asked, deciding that I’d feel better not talking about Miss Borden herself.
“I am not quite finished. I shall make another trip out to the house. I have more tests.”
That was all he’d say too. Holmes did not speculate often. He waited until he had evidence and then sprang his trap.
“Our employers contacted me after I met Miss Borden today. They’d like to dine with us at eight to discuss our progress in the case,” he said almost as an aside.
“We have no progress to report yet, do we?”
“Not really but I’d like to ask the lawyers a few questions too. Perhaps they see things in a different light than we do.”
That was not something that sounded like Holmes. He was going fishing but what for, I didn’t yet know. I actually figured that he already knew who killed Mr. and Mrs. Borden and probably the how and why but I also knew that I’d find out when he decided I needed to know. Sometimes by not telling me things, he kept my own observations untainted and free from opinion other than my own. In other words, I do think that I was of some use to Holmes in this case, as in all cases he undertakes.
We parted, me going to my own room to dress for dinner and Sherlock to his experiments, I suspected. We’d meet in time to dine with Robinson and Jennings. I was interested to see what they had to ask us and what they could tell us.
~~