Lethal Legend (18 page)

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” he said, offering his hand. “I’m Ben Northcote. This is my fiancée, Mrs. Spaulding.”

“J. C. Chilcott,” said the stranger, who appeared to be in his fifties and had an air of respectability about him. “Editor of the
Ellsworth American
.”

“You find Mr. Ennis’s death newsworthy, then?” Diana cut in.

“I find the circumstances curious, but I am also a member of the church where services were held. I felt it my duty to attend.”

“I am a journalist myself,” Diana told him.

“Diana—” Ben began, catching her forearm, but he was too late to stop her from completing her introduction.

“I am employed by the
New York Independent Intelligencer
.”

Chilcott took an involuntary step away from her. An expression of extreme distaste distorted his face. “That scandal sheet!”

Color rose in Diana’s cheeks but she stood her ground. “And what, precisely, do you find so objectionable, Mr. Chilcott?”

“A newspaper should have high moral and ethical standards. That one does not.”

“My editor is of the opinion that scandal sells newspapers.”

“Then how do you explain that the
Ellsworth American
is the most popular weekly newspaper in the state of Maine?”

Ben tightened his grip on her arm. Whatever answer she intended to make died before it reached her lips.

Chilcott tugged on the bottom of his vest, although it was already perfectly straight, and glowered at Diana. “I will not be writing about Mr. Ennis’s death,” he said stiffly. “There is no place for wild speculation in
my
newspaper.”

Ben watched him go with mingled relief and exasperation. “An upstanding citizen,” he observed.

“He’s a temperance man,” said Sheriff Fields, missing Ben’s sardonic tone. “Keeps an eye on the hotels to make sure none of them are serving liquor.”

“Oh, that’s
much
more important than seeing that a murderer is brought to justice,” Diana muttered under her breath.

“Not sure it
was
murder,” Fields said. “Coroner says what Miss Dunbar suggested makes sense.”

“An accident?” Ben couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Sheriff that’s—”

Fields held up a hand to stop any objections. “Maybe. Maybe not. But murder’s a stretch. Can’t see that anyone had a reason to want that fella dead.”

Ben had to exert considerable effort to keep his voice level. “What you mean is that you don’t expect anyone to make a fuss. No one will care if you pursue the matter nor not, not even the local newspaper.”

If the murder had happened in a small town, the local constable would have investigated to the best of his ability. In a city, the police or the city marshals would have handled the case. They might even have asked for outside help because there would have been neighbors who were outraged and town fathers who were pushing for justice. After all, no one wanted to leave a killer running loose. But Ennis had died on a private island. The only person who could insist upon a thorough investigation was the one who clearly did not want one.

“There’s nothing to pursue,” Fellows chimed in, “and no money available to hire a private detective. Last I heard the going rate was ten dollars a day plus expenses. The county can’t afford an outlay like that.”

“Speaking of money,” Diana interrupted, “Mr. Somener paid for this—” A gesture indicated the refreshments. “—but who bore the expenses of the funeral?”

She had reason to be curious, Ben thought. Ennis had been buried in a proper coffin, not a plain pine box, and in a regular plot rather than a pauper’s grave.

“Miss Dunbar took care of everything,” Fellows said. “Told me it was Ennis’s money, from back pay and what she found in his effects.”

Diana was no longer listening. “Mr. Somener is looking at his pocket watch,” she said in an agitated voice. “I think he’s about to leave.”

“As we should,” Oscar Fellows announced. Setting aside his plate, the contents untouched, he started toward the door. Fields followed in his wake.

Reluctant as he was to give his friend bad news, Ben knew he could not put it off any longer. He had to warn Graham about Serena.

“Distract Miss Dunbar,” he whispered to Diana.

A question about where she purchased her divided skirts was sufficient to divert Serena’s attention away from Graham while Ben took the other man aside.

“Any luck finding Palmer?” Graham asked.

“No, but in the process several questions have arisen about Miss Dunbar. What do you know about her training as an archaeologist?”

Half of Graham’s attention remained on the woman in question as he answered. “Aunt Min encouraged her interest in history. Serena used to visit her in Boston, as well as on Keep Island. In fact, Min was so fond of Serena that she left her a legacy.”

Ben’s eyes narrowed. “Money?”

“The contents of a certain trunk. I’m not sure what was inside.”

“And after Min’s death?” Ten years ago, Serena would only have been fifteen or sixteen. Still, some girls taught school at that age. Others were already married. “Did Serena attend college? How did she come to be an archaeologist?”

“She studied at Harvard. They were all there at the same time—Serena, Carstairs, and Ennis.”

Not according to retired Harvard professor Lucien Winthrop, Ben thought. “Is it possible Serena once had a romantic relationship with Frank Ennis?” He’d decided before this conversation began that he might as well be blunt. Subtlety had never worked well with Graham, and he’d be right on the spot to deal with it if his old friend lost control of his temper.

The lines around Graham’s mouth went taut. His lips compressed into a hard, thin line. His eyes blazed blue fire. Ben half expected to see steam coming out of Graham’s ears.

“Defend the lady’s honor later, Graham,” he warned in a low, soothing voice. “For now, just answer the question.”

“Two or three years ago, Ennis asked her to marry him,” Graham said through gritted teeth. “She declined the offer.”

“So they were never—?” Ben was about to say “intimate” but Graham didn’t let him finish the question.

“She did not marry him,” he snapped. “She’s never been married. That’s what she told me and I believe her. Ennis was just trying to make trouble with his lies.”

Graham’s words more than his virulent tone had Ben backing up a step. Ennis had claimed Serena was his wife? That shed an entirely new light on things. It also gave Serena another good reason to want the man dead.

“Graham, listen to me. Someone murdered Frank Ennis. He was poisoned and later drowned. Serena Dunbar has not been truthful about her educational background. An archaeologist from Harvard, someone who was there until just this last year, says she was a student only briefly. He’s never even heard of Ennis or Carstairs. Furthermore, I believe there is a connection between Serena’s arrival on Keep Island and the rumors that brought Justus Palmer to Maine to investigate criminal activity. What if—?”

Graham’s short bark of laughter cut him off. “That’s absurd. Do you hear yourself? You may as well accuse
me
of murder. That would make as much sense.” He leaned in, ramming a finger into Ben’s chest to emphasize each question he asked. “Is that what you think? That because I want to marry Serena myself, I killed her husband to clear the way?”

“Graham, I never said—”

“You didn’t have to. It’s clear you believe Serena had something to do with Ennis’s death.” The heat in his expression had been replaced by an icy glare.

“What else am I to think when you have just managed to cover up a crime? With Ennis dead and buried, it suits you to forget all about the
way
he died.” They were nose to nose, speaking in hoarse, hostile whispers.

“I’d like to forget! I don’t know how he died but I certainly didn’t kill him and neither did Serena. Damnation, Ben, it was an accident! Now I intend to get on with my life. And I intend to share that life with Serena Dunbar.”

“For God’s sake, Graham, use a little common sense. At least ask a few questions. Don’t take everything she says on faith just because you’re in love with her.”

“I know as much about Serena as I need to.” He started to walk away.

Ben caught his arm. “Graham—”

Turning, Graham broke the hold. The venomous look on his face persuaded Ben not to touch him again.

“I’ve asked her to marry me and she’s accepted,” Graham hissed.

Stunned, Ben stared at him, unable to think of a single thing to say.

“The ceremony will take place on Islesborough two days from now. I meant to ask you to be my groomsman, but perhaps it would be best if we simply borrow a couple of strangers to stand up with us.” With that, Graham stalked off towards his intended bride.

* * * *

“Let us dispense with formality,” Serena Dunbar suggested. “It serves no useful purpose. I would be happy to have you call me by my first name.”

They had quickly exhausted the subject of women’s fashions, one that held little real interest for either of them. Serena’s gray flannel suit was as plain as could be and Diana’s traveling outfit of dark blue cashmere was not much fancier. For each, the main concession to the solemnity of the occasion had been the addition of gray illusion veiling to a hat.

At Diana’s doubtful look, Serena’s smile faded. A hint of asperity came into her voice. “We may as well be at ease with one another. I expect we shall see a great deal of each other in the future.”

“You expect us to become friends?”

“Is that such a preposterous idea? We are both professional women, trying to succeed in careers dominated by men. I suspect we have a great deal in common.”

“Perhaps.” Decidedly wary, Diana struggled to discern the purpose behind this unexpected olive branch. Had Serena heard they were investigating her credentials? Was she trying to charm Diana out of continuing? Too little, too late if she was.

Diana glanced towards Ben. She
had been keeping an eye on him while listening with half an ear to Serena’s discourse. Graham Somener did not look happy. She saw him break away from Ben and head for Serena, but Ben caught up with him and said something that appeared to gave him pause. They stayed where they were, once again openly, if quietly, quarreling.

Since Serena’s back was to the two men, she remained blissfully unaware of their conflict. “I am sure you are as devoted to writing articles for your newspaper as I am to discovering the secrets of the past.”

“You intend to continue excavating, then?”

“Of course. In fact, I expect we can manage a half-day’s work at the site tomorrow. We will be short-handed without Frank, but Paul is a dedicated archaeologist and I believe George Amity can be trained to do the simpler tasks.”

“Does Mr. Carstairs call you by your first name, too?” Diana tried not to sound disapproving. Heaven knew she’d “dispensed with formality” often enough herself. Her life had too often been lived on the fringes of society to ever be a stickler for propriety.

“We have known each other for many years and, like me, he believes in the equality of the sexes. Does that shock you?”

“I am not easily shocked, but in my experience, it is often the gentlemen who object to excessive informality. Unless they are bent upon seduction, that is.”

“Not Paul,” Serena said with a laugh. “He had a twin sister with advanced ideas. She was a suffragist
and
an advocate of free love. I’ve always thought I would have liked her very much, but I never had the opportunity to meet her. She died at nineteen, a couple of years before Paul and I met.”

“I do hope the young woman did not suffer some terrible fate because of her beliefs—locked up in an insane asylum, or imprisoned for demonstrating for women’s rights.”

“I do not believe so, although Paul has never said how she died. It grieves him too much to speak of her, I think. He only confided what I’ve told you on a rare occasion when he’d had too much to drink.”

“Died in childbirth, no doubt,” said Mrs. Monroe, who had abandoned her post by the window to join them and had been unabashedly eavesdropping on their conversation for several minutes. “Or from consumption. It’s usually one or the other that takes women at such a young age.”

Before Diana could respond, Graham Somener appeared at Serena’s elbow. Diana started to speak, then saw his face. It was contorted with rage. As she had once before, when he’d been armed with a fencing foil, Diana quailed. This was a man who could kill when he was in a temper. She was certain of it.

“Come, Serena. We are leaving.” Somener growled the words. Ignoring Diana, he ushered the other two women towards the door, bellowing at Paul Carstairs to “shake a leg.” A moment later, all four of them were gone. Diana and Ben were alone in the hotel’s private dining parlor.

Diana cleared her throat and glanced warily at Ben. “I take it he did not heed your warning about Serena?”

Ben looked shaken, his gaze still fixed on the doorway through which Somener had gone. “He’s already asked her to marry him. The wedding is Saturday.”

Diana’s eyes widened. No wonder Ben looked so distressed. In a flurry of skirts she rushed to his side and placed both hands on his coat sleeve. She waited until he looked down at her to speak.

“We will find a way to stop him, Ben. We must. He cannot marry Serena Dunbar.”

“Frank Ennis claimed he and Serena were married. She denied it.”

“Well, of course she would. She could hardly marry your friend Graham if she already had a husband.” This was an unexpected development, but Diana had no difficulty incorporating it into her theory about Serena.

“She could have said they were divorced. Instead she denied
ever
being married.”

“Ennis’s claim threatened her plans,” Diana concluded.

“Especially if part of the plan was to marry Graham.”

“And now that Ennis is dead, he’s no longer a problem.”

Ben’s eyes were alive with fear. “If she killed Frank Ennis, what’s to stop her murdering Graham after they’re wed? With him dead, she’d gain complete control of his fortune.”

It was an appalling thought, but it made sense. Releasing her grip on Ben’s arm, Diana started towards the door. “We must go after them, convince him not to marry her. We cannot—”