“It’s not the same.”
“He was angry at you. Now you’re angry at him.”
“Annoyed.” The same emotion had her on her feet, too het up to sit still. She moved restlessly from chair to window and back. What she felt wasn’t so much anger as envy. Ben’s disappearance had not only gained him a respite from the hectic wedding preparations, but also from the responsibility of dealing with family members, more of whom were due to arrive any day. Since several of them were at odds with her mother, there would be no diminution in the bickering and backstabbing.
“As I recall, Ben was spitting nails, he was so furious with you.”
“I had good reason for what I did.”
“I imagine Ben would say the same about the present situation.”
“Oh?” Now temper did simmer, setting sarcasm loose. She’d been hurt that Ben had failed to confide in her before he left. That oversight pained her every time she thought of it. “And who, pray, has been murdered on Keep Island?”
The moment the words were out, Diana regretted them. Murder was not a matter to be taken lightly.
“No one ... that I know of.”
“I am very glad to hear it.”
“But I haven’t visited there in years. Why did Ben? Why now?”
Diana stilled. “There was a telegram. It said ‘need medical assistance.’ That must mean someone was ill or injured, but the message came three days ago. Even in the midst of treating the sick, Ben would have spared a thought for me. Wouldn’t he?”
Aaron’s troubled expression offered no reassurance. He didn’t try to tease her out of her concern. “Go after him, Diana,” he said. “You’re right. Ben should have sent word to someone before this.”
* * * *
Diana returned to the house by way of the kitchen door a short time later, still undecided about following Ben. She’d intended to go straight up to her bedroom, but when she heard the faint rumble of a male voice from the direction of the parlor, she changed her mind. It was not Ben, she realized as she drew closer, but by then she was too curious to retreat.
Her footfalls nearly silent on the thick carpet, Diana reached the doorway and paused. There was no sign of her mother. Diana supposed she had retired early, as she had the night before. She felt heat climb into her cheeks, remembering the risqué parting comment Elmira had made the previous evening, just before toddling off to bed with her brand new husband.
A stranger now sat on the loveseat Diana and Elmira had been sharing earlier. He had a stocky build and dark brown hair, but Diana could tell little else about him save that his suit was well cut and looked expensive. He had inclined his body in Maggie’s direction, his head canted in a way that suggested he was staring at her intently. Maggie gazed back at him, a fatuous smile on her face.
“Ben has gone to Keep Island,” she said. “We do not know when he will return.”
Diana didn’t think she’d made any sound, but the stranger turned in her direction the moment she stepped over the threshold, pinning her with a steely gray-eyed stare. Maggie blinked rapidly several times and looked surprised to find Diana in the room.
The stranger rose, showing himself to be of average height. “Ah,” he said. “Mrs. Spaulding, I presume?”
“And you are?”
“This is Justus Palmer, Diana,” Maggie said. “I knew his father aeons ago.” Now her smile was flirtatious. “You look just like him, Justus. You even have his voice. I could never forget its remarkable resonance. Why, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you
were
him.”
Mr. Palmer seemed a trifle taken aback by this statement, but he recovered quickly. “I have been told before that I resemble him.” He returned his attention to Diana. “Will you join us, Mrs. Spaulding. I am hoping you can help me on a matter of some importance.”
Responding to the innate charm of the man, Diana seated herself on the loveseat. He did have a wonderful baritone voice, she thought. Almost as captivating as Ben’s. She wondered if he was an actor.
Palmer chose one of several straight-back chairs in the parlor rather than crowd either of the women. Maggie, Diana saw, had poured him a cup of tea, but he didn’t seem to have touched it. “May I offer you a stronger libation, Mr. Palmer?” she asked.
“Thank you, no. I do not drink spiritous liquors.”
“Your father kissed me once,” Maggie announced. When they both turned to stare at her, she shrugged. “Well, he did. But it was before I married Ben’s father, so there was no harm in it. He was a very good kisser, as I recall. Quite romantic. Though now that I think about it, I did come away from it with a cut on my lip. My but that man had sharp teeth!”
Diana sent Palmer a sympathetic look. Maggie’s outrageous comments must be embarrassing to him, but he managed to keep a polite expression on his face. “How can we help you, Mr. Palmer? I presume it is a matter of great importance indeed to require a visit so late in the evening.”
“I do a great deal of work after dark, Mrs. Spaulding,” Palmer said. “I am a private detective by profession.”
“Pinkerton?”
He winced, as if he’d heard that question one too many times before. “No, I’m not one of the Pinkertons. I have my own detective agency in Boston. Just now I am employed by a client who is concerned about activities on Keep Island.”
“Activities?” she echoed, puzzled. “What kind of activities?”
“That’s the question, isn’t it? Illegal activities, or so my client believes.”
Diana felt herself go cold inside and had to struggle to preserve her outward composure. She had reported on crime in New York City and elsewhere for her newspaper. She and Ben had encountered murder more than once in their personal lives. She had no wish to become involved in “illegal activities” again.
“I understand Dr. Northcote is presently visiting the island,” Palmer continued.
Since Maggie had already told him that much, Diana saw no harm in confirming it. “He left three days ago in response to a request by an old friend.”
“That would be Graham Somener, I presume.”
Diana nodded.
“Are you aware of Mr. Somener’s past?” His eyes cut briefly to Maggie and, following that path, Diana saw the other woman’s face harden.
“All lies,” she muttered. “Scandal.” She gave Diana a pointed look. “Newspapers made up stories about him that were not true.”
Diana said nothing. The accusation might well be justified. Her employer, Horatio Foxe, editor and publisher of the
Independent Intelligencer
, had been known to stretch the truth until it snapped. When it came to a choice between reporting only the boring facts or embellishing a bit to pique his readers’ interest, he always chose to print the more colorful version of a story.
“In this case,” Palmer said, “there seems to be some basis for the published reports. Mr. Somener was an architect, Mrs. Spaulding. An extremely successful one. Some years back, he was involved in a construction project for a very tall building. He cut corners to save expenses. When the building was finished, and occupied, it collapsed. People died. His callous disregard for safety was directly responsible for those deaths.”
“It was a terrible accident,” Maggie protested.
“It is true that no criminal charges were ever brought.” Palmer leaned closer to Diana, capturing her gaze and holding it. “Immediately following, however, Mr. Somener retreated to his island. He’s been there for five years now and if he’s left it more than a half dozen times I’d be surprised to hear it. That could mean the man is riddled with guilt. It could also be that he is a coward. And if he was, and is, a ruthless businessman, then he’d not be averse to increasing his fortune by other underhanded means.”
“Of what, exactly, are you accusing him, Mr. Palmer?” Diana asked.
“Crimes, Mrs. Spaulding.”
A flash of memory made Diana frown. She’d recently told Ben, in no uncertain terms, that she did not want to become involved with crimes or criminals ever again—not to write about, not to read about, and definitely not to encounter in person. She’d meant it at the time, but now found her reporter’s instincts roused by Palmer’s hints. Besides, she thought, if Ben’s oldest and dearest friend stood accused of being involved in criminal activity, how could she not pursue the matter? To exonerate Graham Somener, of course.
Palmer leaned closer and spoke in a low, compelling voice. “You must tell me anything you know, Mrs. Spaulding. Everything. All you know about recent criminal activity on Keep Island.”
Diana found the man’s steady regard unnerving. It almost seemed as if he were trying to mesmerize her with that concentrated stare. His voice, too, was hypnotic. She blinked several times before she answered him.
“I know nothing about Keep Island or Graham Somener.”
“Now if it were Jedediah,” Maggie mused aloud, “I’d believe it. He was an old reprobate if there ever was one!”
“Jedediah?” Diana repeated, confused.
“Graham Somener’s grandfather. He’s the one who bought Keep Island years ago for a song. Cheated the fellow that sold it to him six ways to Sunday, that’s the way I heard it, and the rightful heirs were some put out about it, too. Nothing they could do, naturally, except curse the island for all eternity.”
“My information indicates very recent crimes,” Palmer said. “It has been no more than a few months, perhaps only a matter of a few weeks, since these illegal activities began.”
“What nonsense! Graham Somener is an honest man.” Maggie placed one hand over her ample bosom as if this would add sanctity to her conviction.
Diana regarded Justus Palmer with suspicion. “Just what particular crime do you believe Mr. Somener has committed?”
“Oh, yes, do tell,” Maggie interrupted. “We’re all agog! Has he opened a gambling hell on the island? A brothel? Or is it smuggling he’s taken up for fun and profit.”
For once, Diana was grateful for Maggie’s foolishness. It broke the spell Palmer’s unrelenting gaze seemed to be spinning around her.
“You must be specific, Justus.”
If Maggie’s sarcasm irritated Justus Palmer, he did not let it show. His voice was calm and matter-of-fact. “I fear I am not at liberty to say more, and even if I could betray my client’s confidences, I would not wish to distress you ladies by discussing such unsavory matters.”
Maggie snorted. “We are more worldly than you think, Mr. Palmer. No delicate sensibilities here.”
He accepted that statement with laudable aplomb but would not relent. “My client requires discretion, ladies. I cannot reveal his secrets simply to satisfy your curiosity.”
“And we,” Diana said, “cannot answer
your
questions simply to satisfy his. Perhaps you should come back after Dr. Northcote returns.”
Accepting his dismissal with apparent good grace, Palmer stood. “I believe I will do just that, Mrs. Spaulding. Thank you.” He started for the door.
“I’ll see you out.” Diana didn’t know what to make of the man. He was charming, but there was something ... odd about him. And he was much too secretive for her peace of mind. She wouldn’t put it past him to sneak upstairs and search the house the moment their backs were turned. She went with him to the door, intending to see him safely through it, to be
certain
he left.
He stopped at the coatrack, where he had left a tweed greatcoat with a double cape. He shrugged into the heavy garment, in which he would surely be too warm on this mild June night, making Diana wonder if this was a delaying tactic. She certainly hadn’t needed a coat to walk in the garden.
“Have you a hat?” she asked, not seeing one.
“Never wear them.”
“How very odd.” Even Ben, who did not particularly care to cover his head, wore one sometimes, and if Mr. Palmer needed a coat—
The sudden realization that his lips had quirked into a wry smile as he watched her watch him left Diana feeling disconcerted.
“I mean you and yours no harm, Mrs. Spaulding.” Palmer stepped outside, but he paused just across the threshold to glance over his shoulder at her. “I don’t suppose you’d heed a word of friendly advice?”
“Probably not, but feel free to offer it.”
“Keep Island is a dangerous place. By all means do everything you can to convince Dr. Northcote to leave, but under no circumstances go there yourself.”
Chapter Two
“What do you mean, you can’t allow passengers to disembark on Keep Island?” More puzzled than concerned, Diana awaited an answer. She had not journeyed all the way to Bucksport by train to be put off at the first hitch in her plans.
Amos Cobb, captain of the steamboat
Miss Min
, scratched his bulbous nose with the side of this thumb and gave her a gap-toothed grin. “Orders is orders, miss. No visitors allowed unless Mr. Somener himself vouches for them. In advance.”
“But you must have taken my fiancé there four days ago. I—”
“Nope. Never did. No one out, no one back, not on my boat. Not for a week, at least, and then it was only that peculiar Miss Dunbar who’s digging up the place and her workmen.”
“Is the island quarantined?” Diana asked.
“Course not.” Cobb looked astonished by the very idea. “Man just wants his privacy, is all.”
Privacy for what? Diana wondered. The vague hints Mr. Palmer had dropped suddenly seemed much more ominous. “Dr. Northcote is on Keep Island. I’m sure of it.”
“That’s as may be, miss, but I’ve got my orders.”
“It is extremely important that I contact my fiancé.”
Cobb tugged on one ear, shuffled his feet, and finally allowed that if she’d write a note to Mr. Somener, he could take it to him. “Will that do?” he asked. “If he says you can visit the island, I’ll take you there tomorrow.”
Given little choice, Diana did as he suggested. With luck, her message would bring Ben to her instead. She hoped so. The problem with the captain’s offer was that the
Miss Min
would not be back in Bucksport until evening. According to the schedule posted at the steamship office, he delivered mail, groceries, and sometimes passengers, to ten of the inhabited islands in Penobscot Bay.
At least he made two stops, morning and afternoon, at Graham Somener’s island. That would give Ben time between to respond to her note, but she’d have to wait all day long in Bucksport just to find out if she had been given leave to visit him on Keep Island. By then the last train for Bangor, which left at 4:50 in the afternoon, would already have departed. She’d have to stay overnight in Bucksport. Alone, if Ben was unable to accompany Captain Cobb to fetch her.