The Adventure of the Greenbriar Ghost

Mrs. Heaster cleared her throat and plunged ahead. “As you can appreciate, an unmarried woman with a child cannot expect much in the way of a good marriage. She resigned herself to living alone, but then in October of 1896 she met a man named Erasmus Stribbling Trout Shue. Most folks around these parts called him Edward, though I’ve always thought of him as ‘Trout’: cold and slippery. He was a drifter who came here to Greenbrier to work as a blacksmith, saying that he wanted to start a new life. He alluded to a hard past but never gave any details. He went to work in the shop of James Crookshanks, which is located just off of the old Midland Trail. Trout had talent as a farrier and in farm country there is considerable work for a man skilled at shoeing horses and cows. Shortly after Trout came to town my daughter met him when she went to arrange for shoes for our bull, which we let out to stud at local farms.” Mrs. Heaster sighed. “It was love at first sight, Mr. Holmes. You’ve heard the expression that ‘sparks flew’, well it was true enough when Zona went into the blacksmiths and saw Trout hammering away at his anvil. He is a very big and muscular man, powerful as you’d expect of a blacksmith; but handsome in his way. Perhaps more charming than handsome, if you take my meaning. He had a smile that could turn his hard face into that of a storybook prince; and the attention he lavished on Zona made her feel like a princess. He asked me for her hand in marriage and though I had my misgivings—it seems I am too old to be taken in by a handsome smile and thick biceps—I agreed. My daughter, after all, had such limited prospects.”

“Of course,” I said.

“From the outset I felt that Trout was hiding something, but he never let on and I found no evidence to confirm my suspicions. I began to think I was just becoming that proverbial ‘old woman’, yielding to fears and interfering with my daughter’s happiness...but my fears were justified,” she said and as I watched I saw all the color drain from her face. “Worse than justified, for how could I know of the terrible events to come?”

Holmes opened his eyes and watched her like a cat.

“Zona and Trout lived together as man and wife for the next several months. Then, on January 23 of this year—on that terrible, terrible day, Andy Jones —a young colored boy who had been sent to their house by Trout on some contrived errand—came tearing into town, screaming that he had found my Zona lying dead at the foot of the stairs. He said that he saw her lying stretched out, with her feet together and one hand on her abdomen and the other lying next to her. Her head was turned slightly to one side. Her eyes were wide open and staring. Even though Andy is a small child he knew that she must be dead. Andy ran to town and told his mother and she summoned Dr. George Knapp, who is both our local doctor and coroner. Dr. Knapp was out at one of the more distant farms and it took him nearly an hour to arrive.”

Mrs. Heaster took a breath to brace herself for the nest part. “By the time Dr. Knapp arrived Trout had come home from Mr. Crookshanks’ shop and he had taken Zona’s body upstairs and laid her out on the bed. Normally town women tend to the dead, washing them and dressing them for the funeral; but by the time Dr. Knapp had arrived Trout has washed Zona and dressed her in her best dress, a long gown with a high collar, with a veil covering her face.”

Holmes leaned forward. “Describe the veil and collar.”

“It was a white veil recut from her wedding gown so she could wear it to church.”

“And the collar?”

“Very high and stiff-necked.”

Holmes pursed his lips and considered. “Pray continue,” he said after a moment. “Tell me about the findings of Dr. Knapp’s examination of your daughter.”

“That’s just it, Mr. Holmes, there wasn’t much of an examination. Dr. Knapp tried, of course, but Trout clung to Zona throughout, wailing in grief and agony, abusing the doctor for disturbing his poor dear wife’s remains.”

“Were you there, Mrs. Heaster?” I asked.

“Yes, I stood in the doorway, shocked into silence by what had happened, feeling my heart break in my chest.”

“Where was Trout Shue while the doctor was examining your daughter?”

“Excellent, Watson,” Holmes said quietly.

“He sat at the top of the bed, cradling her head and sobbing,” said Mrs. Heaster.

“Did he order Dr. Knapp to stop the examination?” Holmes asked.

“No, but he was so demonstrably overcome with grief the doctor relented out of pity and gave Zona’s body only the most cursory of examinations. Barely enough to assure himself that she was in fact dead. However,” she said slowly, “he did notice that there were bruises around Zona’s throat.”

“Bruises? What did he make of them?”

“Nothing, Mr. Holmes.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

After a moment’s pause Holmes asked, “What did Dr. Knapp determine was the cause of your daughter’s death?”

Mrs. Heaster sneered. “At first he called it an everlasting faint. I ask you!”