“A feeble excuse.” Diana had polished off almost as much of the picnic lunch as Fields had. She paused in the act of wiping her fingers on a napkin. “I wonder, though. Do you suppose he was trying to manipulate me into making the trip by telling me I shouldn’t go?”
No better way to assure that she did, Ben thought. He didn’t care for the possibility that Palmer might plan to question Diana a second time in order to discover what she had learned on Keep Island.
Fields was frowning again, trying to call up Palmer’s exact words. “Said travel over water didn’t agree with him.” Satisfied, he went back to eating. “Poor fella. Doesn’t know what he’s missing. Nothing better than spending the day on a boat. I served in both the army and the navy during the war and let me tell you, the navy’s better.”
Ben could not share the sheriff’s enjoyment at being aboard the
Miss Min
. With twelve passengers sharing limited space, he could hardly turn around without bumping into one of the jurors. Further discussion of what Justus Palmer might be up to, and speculation about the reasons for Serena Dunbar’s testimony, would have to wait until he could be alone with Diana.
That took longer than he’d anticipated. Fellows waited with them for the train to arrive and once on board the crush of passengers left them without sufficient privacy for a discussion of murder. Ben did not want to chance being overheard. Before he knew it, a remark he or Diana made would show up in the newspaper. That was the last thing Graham needed right now.
It seemed to take forever before they were clattering through the familiar covered bridge that spanned the Penobscot River between Brewer and Bangor. They arrived at the depot in Bangor right on time—6:05. Since Ben had sent a telegram ahead from Bucksport, his “doctor’s wagon,” a four-wheeled buggy painted black with green trim and silver markings and fitted with a special storage area at the back to hold medical supplies and his brown leather doctor’s satchel, was waiting at the station. That gave him the length of the drive to the house to discuss matters with Diana.
“I don’t know what to make of Palmer’s claims,” Ben confessed as he gathered up the reins and urged the horse out into traffic. The streets around the depot were crowded with folks heading home for supper.
“Nor do I, but I do think it odd that the charge he made against Mr. Somener is so vague. Is he supposed to be involved in smuggling, or some other nefarious crime? Then, too, while it’s clear your childhood friend has an enemy, since someone is spreading rumors about him, it is possible that this business with Palmer has no connection whatsoever to Frank Ennis’s death.”
Ben nodded thoughtfully, leaning forward a bit as if to compensate for the steepness of the hill. “Why kill Ennis? That’s the most important question. It can’t have been a mistake. Graham would never have been the one wearing that diving suit. Still, I suppose it could have been Palmer, or his employer, who came onto Keep Island by stealth and tampered with the diving equipment.”
“You promised to locate Justus Palmer,” Diana reminded him. “How do you mean to go about finding him?”
“I could travel to Boston. That’s where his office is.” Ben had kept the card Palmer had given to Sheriff Fields. “But it’s likely he’s still in Maine.”
Ben slowed the horse as they passed the Entwhistle mansion. In a few more minutes they would be home, their opportunity for private conversation at an end. “If he’s in Bangor, it shouldn’t be too difficult to track him down and talk to him. There are only so many hotels in the city and I know them all.”
“How can I help?” Diana asked.
“By staying out of it. Let me deal with Palmer.”
“I have no real desire to encounter Mr. Palmer again,” Diana admitted. “I must confess he made me a trifle uneasy. He has a rather ... dominating personality. But I am not prepared to forget that there has been murder done. It did not appear to me that much investigation took place on Keep Island. Mr. Fellows and the sheriff seemed content to take statements and view the body.”
“They took away the diving suit.”
“But were they convinced the air hose had been tampered with?”
Ben hesitated. “I don’t know. And there may not be much they can do to prove it even if they did believe me.”
“Can do or
will
do?” Diana asked. “Are police here like those in New York City? Few murders are investigated there without the promise of a monetary reward.”
Ben stiffened, offended. “We are not so corrupt here.” But he could not claim high moral ground for long. “It is usually public outcry that drives an investigation, and even then, local authorities generally admit they are not qualified to investigate murders. Sometimes, if there is money to pay one, a private detective is called in, as was the case in Bath with James R. Wood.”
“I don’t suppose Mr. Somener will—”
“I don’t suppose he will. The truth is, Diana, we’ve no business getting involved in this investigation.”
“That’s never stopped us before.”
“I’ll see if I can find out who hired Palmer and pass that information on to Graham, but once that’s done, our part in the matter will be over.” He pulled in beneath the
porte cochere
and glanced sideways at Diana. Consternation puckered her face. “What?”
“I’m sorry, Ben, but I don’t see how we can simply let the matter drop.” She sent an apologetic smile his way. “Distasteful as it is, we’re caught right in the middle. Graham Somener put us there by sending for you when those men were poisoned.”
“What do you want to do, then? And I warn you, if you say you plan to track down a killer on your own, especially if you still think Graham is the guilty party, I’ll lock you in the attic until the wedding.” He was not entirely joking.
“I’ll do nothing that will put me in harm’s way. I promise. But I want to investigate Serena Dunbar.”
“Serena?” He couldn’t say he was surprised, especially given her testimony at the inquest.
“You were right in what you said yesterday. She’s as likely a suspect as Graham Somener. More likely. She may well be the reason Palmer was hired. The claims of illegal activities on Keep Island coincide with her arrival there. I doubt that is a coincidence. Perhaps Frank Ennis caught on to what she was doing. She may have had to kill him to protect herself from arrest.”
“Or it could be that Ennis was the smuggler,” Ben suggested. “Serena may have killed him to protect her archaeological expedition.”
“If she really
is
an archaeologist. What if she is a confidence woman planning to salt the site?”
“Either way, why would she poison her entire crew, or kill Ennis when he was the only one who could make that dive for her?”
Diana waved away his objections as if they were trifles. “She’s hiding something. I’m certain of it. And she has designs on your oldest friend. Don’t you think he should be warned if she’s up to no good?”
Using the island as a base for smuggling? Running a confidence game? Scheming to marry a rich man? None were possibilities he liked to contemplate. Diana was right. If Serena Dunbar wasn’t what she claimed, then he owed it to Graham to find out.
“Where will you start?”
“The library, I think, to discover if there are any legitimate archaeologists living in the area.”
“Excellent plan.” Book research. And likely she’d send a telegram to her editor, Horatio Foxe, who seemed to have limitless resources to find answers to questions. Both sounded like perfectly safe endeavors, but Ben knew Diana well. “Just promise me you’ll be careful.”
“I will.”
One danger averted, Ben thought. Now all he had to do was survive the other—an evening meal, now imminent, shared with Maggie Northcote and Elmira Leeves.
“Ben?” Diana placed one hand on his arm as he was about to hop out of the buggy.
“Yes, my dear?”
“I vow I won’t keep any more secrets from you. Not even little, unimportant ones. Everything I learn, I will share with you as soon as is humanly possible.”
Her voice throbbed with such sincerity that he couldn’t help but respond in the same vein. “You have my promise, too, Diana. I will confide everything I discover about Justus Palmer.”
Her face alight with a brilliant smile, she allowed him to hand her out of the buggy. As he’d hoped, she had not noticed how carefully he had chosen his words. She did not guess that there were other secrets he was not yet willing to share with her.
* * * *
It felt good to wake up in her own bedroom in Ben’s house in Bangor. Diana stretched languidly in the massive four-poster bed, a smile on her face as she looked up at the canopy. It was Monday, the 18
th
day of June in the year 1888, and in just twelve more days she would be Mrs. Benjamin Northcote.
Her pleasure at the thought popped like a balloon when the door flew open to admit her mother. Elmira Leeves didn’t bother with greetings. She cut straight to the point. “How could you, Diana? You know I cannot bear to be in the same room with the man.”
“What man, Mother?”
“My brother Myron. Who else? After the way he treated me—”
“Good lord, Mother, that was decades ago. You don’t have to talk to him. Just restrain any impulse to physically attack him.” She wondered how Elmira had learned Myron Grant was on the guest list. Diana certainly hadn’t shown it to her. She’d planned to tell her mother who was coming, but not until the last minute.
“I will not tolerate—”
“You will, or you’ll leave before they get here.” Diana slid out of bed and reached for her dressing sacque, pulling it on over the comfortable old mother hubbard gown she’d slept in. “I invited Uncle Myron, Uncle Howd, Uncle Howd’s fiancée, and his daughter to the wedding. Uncle Myron isn’t happy about the prospect of seeing you again, either. In his version, you abandoned him.”
“I eloped.” Elmira sniffed, but Diana did not think the sound was a prelude to tears. Her mother was made of stronger stuff than that.
“Precisely.”
At the oak commode Diana poured water into the wash basin before splashing a healthy portion onto her face. Dealing with her mother required a degree of alertness impossible when one had been blissfully asleep only a short time ago. The water, at room temperature, was not cold enough to do much good. Diana reached for one of the soft cloths hanging on a built-in towel rack while studying her bemused expression in the mirror affixed to the high back of the commode. She needed coffee, and lots of it.
As if on cue, a gentle scratching sounded at the door. Diana opened it for Annie, the maid. Smile bright as a new penny, black dress covered with a freshly starched white apron, the Irish girl had brought a breakfast tray. “Mornin’, mum. Here’s your coffee.”
“Bless you, Annie.”
Annie set the tray, which also held a covered dish containing toast, on an oak table next to a chair. “Will you be needin’ any help with your dressin’ this mornin’?”
“Thank you, no, Annie.” If she did, her mother, who had retreated to the window seat, could assist with the buttons.
Diana poured herself a cup of coffee and took several sips of the strong, fragrant brew. As soon as the door closed behind Annie, she addressed her formidable mother. “You may as well know. I have also invited the surviving Torrences—my grandfather and my Aunt Janette—to the wedding. Did you conveniently forget they existed when you finally told me about your own family?”
For years, Diana had believed she had no one in the world but her parents. It had been a shock to discover that both her mother and her father had siblings living and that her father’s father was also still alive.
“I did not forget, though I did assume the old man was long dead.” Elmira shrugged and leaned back against the window sill, a position from which she could keep an eye on both the scene outside and her daughter. “I chose not to mention them. Never liked Janette. Too stuck up by half.”
Diana bit into a piece of toast to keep herself from making any comment.
The silence grew heavy between them. Abruptly, Elmira left the window seat to wander around the bedchamber, idly examining anything that took her fancy. She picked up the mother-of-pearl backed mirror on the dresser and studied herself in it, poking at strands of hair already perfectly coiffed, before replacing it next to the matching brush and hair receiver.
Diana’s eyes narrowed. Her mother was fully dressed and wide awake. Likely she’d been up for hours. Snooping, no doubt, while everyone else in the house was still asleep.
“A little bird tells me you passed yourself off as already married when you visited my brothers.”
Diana’s hand jerked as she set the coffee cup down. How on earth had her mother discovered that tidbit? Not that it mattered. Now that she knew, she’d have to be dealt with. “We had good reasons for the deception at the time.”
With a snigger, Elmira replaced the spill jar on the mantelpiece and turned to grin at her. “I just bet you did. And I can’t say as I blame you. He’s a well set-up fellow, your Ben. If I were thirty years younger, I’d have a go at him myself.”
“You’re a newlywed, Mother. Or had you forgotten?”
“Not for a moment, and I’m pleased enough with my bargain, though I warn you, daughter, once a man gets his ring on your finger he stops being quite so gallant.”
Diana frowned. Ed Leeves was a perfect gentleman ... when he wasn’t issuing threats. Now that he was her stepfather, she was determined to ignore his connection to Denver’s criminal underworld.
“But my marital state is neither here nor there,” Elmira continued, dismissing it with a careless wave of the hand. “My point is that your newfound relations will be most upset with you if they find out that you lied to them.
They
think this wedding is a re-affirmation of vows already taken before a justice of the peace.”
“What do you want in return for your silence, Mother? If I tell Uncle Myron not to come, he’ll want to know why, and then the whole story will come out anyway.”
“The last thing I want is to make trouble for you, my dear girl.”
Diana braced herself.
“It’s Maggie Northcote. I cannot abide the woman.”
“I can hardly throw her out of her own house just to please you.”