An Equal Measure of Murder

by B. T. Lord

Emmy suddenly jumped out of her chair and hurried over to the files Edwina had lent her. She quickly went through them and found what she was looking for. She hurried back with a piece of paper and her steno pad in her hand. “This is Chief O’Day’s report, detailing how they went over Mynter’s house the day after his disappearance was reported. It says here they went to his home at 129 Fern Street.”

  “That’s next door to John Graham’s house.”

  “And it’s two houses over from 123 Fern Street – the house whose property taxes are missing.”

  She opened the steno pad and flicked through the pages until she found what she needed. “I was just finishing up going through the police file and jotting down the highlights of the interviews O’Day did with the neighbors. The only interview I couldn’t find was with the owner of 123 Fern.” Rick sat back in his chair as his jaw dropped in astonishment. “You were right, Rick. Whoever lived at 123 Fern has to be our killer. Or at the very least knew exactly what was going on and tried to erase their presence.”

  “Who would have access to all these records?” he wondered aloud.

  Emmy plopped down in the chair. “Whoever it was also had access to the Gazette files. Mr. MacMunn mentioned he couldn’t find the articles that spoke about Mynter’s disappearance three months after it happened.”

  “Because he or she was mentioned in those articles. It’s the only explanation that makes sense.” He drummed the desk with his fingers. “But if the Gazette fingered this person as someone of interest, why aren’t they in the police file?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Rick leaned his chin on his palm as he went over it in his head. “Wait a minute,” he suddenly said. “Doesn’t the county have a census every five years?”

  “You know, I think it does.”

  “They’ve been doing the census since forever. There has to be one for the years we’re looking for. We need to find those records.”

  “You know what that means, don’t you?” Emmy asked.

  He shook his head mournfully. “Another trip to Edwina’s crypt.”

  “He’s alive,” Ellis said as he felt Andrew’s pulse.

  “I’ve never seen him look so awful,” Cammie frowned as she took in the man’s sunken features. “He looks as though he’s seen the other side of hell. Look at his clothes. They’re completely soaked through.”

  “He’s been out here for at least a few hours. Do you know what his relationship was like with his mother?”

  “He’s always been a momma’s boy. He’s in his early 40s, and still lives at home. When Violet moved to Presque Isle, he went with her.”

  “He didn’t have a job?”

  Cammie shrugged. “He says he’s a writer, but no one has ever seen any of his work. Glenn told me he likes to drink down at Fiske’s. That the local pub in Paradise Cove. I never saw any signs of that back in Twin Ponds, but the family kept pretty much to themselves.”

  “Do you know anything about her other son Teddy?”

  “Yes. He’s the oldest. He took over his father’s financial consulting firm when Edward became ill. He lives in Houlton, which is about two hours east of Twin Ponds.”

  Ellis turned his attention back to Andrew. The man’s face was ashen, but he had no cuts or bruises on his scalp. Pulling up the man’s sleeves, he frowned when he saw a gash along the inside of his arm. It was caked with blood and looked suspiciously like a wound left behind by a thrown lamp.

  He gently slapped Andrew’s face a few times. Just when he thought he’d have to resort to stronger measures, the man’s eyelids fluttered.

  “Where am I?” he muttered half coherently as he tried to sit up. He looked about him and noticed Ellis for the first time. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Deputy Ellis Martin. Can you tell me your name?”

  Andrew shook his head and groaned. “I’m whoever you want me to be.”

  “I need you to answer the question.”

  Ellis’ tone was quiet, but the authority was unmistakable. Andrew glanced at him. “I’m Andrew Munson.”

  “Where were you last night, Mr. Munson?”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “Hello, Andrew.” He jerked his head towards Cammie and moaned aloud when pain exploded behind his eyes. “Do you remember me?”

  For the first time, fear showed in Andrew’s eyes. “Sheriff Farnsworth? What’s going on? What are you doing here?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  Andrew looked down and noticed for the first time he was soaked through. He frantically looked about and saw where he was. Oh God, it had happened again. He’d blacked out. Rather than ending up on the beach, this time he was on the cliff. The thought that he could have so easily tumbled over the edge terrified him. The horror showed on his face.

  “I’m going to ask you again,” Ellis spoke up. “Where were you last night?”

  “I’m freezing. Please, let me at least change my clothes.”

  Cammie jerked her head and she and Ellis moved away. “If you want, I can go back to the cottage, grab some clothes and a blanket and bring your car over while you continue to question him.”

  Ellis hesitated. Throughout his career, he was accustomed to working alone. He preferred it that way. It was this certainty of working solo that first attracted him to the job in the Coffins. To his surprise, he found himself willing, for the first time in his life, to concede to Cammie’s request to help. What surprised him even more was that he liked the idea of working with her.

  He fished out the keys and gave them to her. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

  “No problem. You’d do the same for me.”

  She jogged down the path towards the cottage while Ellis took off his coat and draped it over Andrew’s shoulders.

  “Alright Andrew. Let’s try this one more time. What did you do last night?”

  “Why are you asking me these questions? I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “Do you remember last night?”

  Andrew thought furiously. He honestly didn’t recall what he’d done, but it had to be what he always did. Notwithstanding Keith’s warning to never return to Fiske’s, he must have gone anyway. Where else would he go?

  He gave a nervous laugh. “I must have had a bit too much to drink at Fiske’s. If you ask my mother, she’ll probably be able to tell you where I was.”

  “What time did you leave the cottage to go to Fiske’s last night?”

  “I don’t know. Around 7 maybe?”

  “How long were you at Fiske’s?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t pay attention to time when I’m drinking.”

  “Do you recall at least how you ended up here at the cliff?”

  “Look, just what the hell is going on here?” Andrew demanded. “You’re treating me as if I’ve done something wrong.”

  Ellis gave him a somber, even look. “Your mother’s body was found at the bottom of this cliff a few hours ago. That’s what this is all about, Mr. Munson. And the sooner you remember where you were last night, the easier it will be on all of us.”

  Andrew stared at him slack jawed. “That’s impossible,” he whispered.

  “Sheriff Farnsworth found her body.”

  “And you think I killed my mother?” Andrew asked in horror.

  “That’s what I need to find out.”

  Andrew shook his head from side to side. “I had no reason to kill her! I loved her! If you want to find her murderer, I suggest you talk to Splash Mulroney. He argued with Mom yesterday afternoon. In fact, he was so belligerent, she fired him.”

  “Did you witness the argument?”

  “No. She told me about it. But she was very upset.” He took a shuddering breath. “Where is my mother now?”

  “She’s at Dr. Rhys’.”

  “I need to see her!” he said as he struggled to get to his feet. Ellis put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down onto the ground.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mr. Munso
n.”

  “Why not?” he demanded, his eyes red and brimming with tears.

  “She landed on the rocks,” was all Ellis said. Andrew uttered a sobbing breath and shoved his knuckles into his mouth as he bowed his head and began to sob.

  “Try to remember where you were last night,” he quietly urged, but it was no use. Andrew was beyond coherent thought. Ellis whipped out his cell and called Rhys. “Could you meet me at the Paradise Cove Hotel? I’ve got Andrew Munson here and he’s hysterical. I’m going to need you to administer a sedative.” He next called Glenn and asked if he could book a room for the night. “It’s for Andrew Munson. It’s just for one night.” Thankfully Glenn didn’t ask for any more information. As he hung up, he heard the sounds of a car approaching. Thank God Cammie had arrived. He was freezing, and he needed his coat back.

  When they arrived at the hotel, Rhys was waiting for them. Maud showed them to a room overlooking the back lawn while the doctor administered the sedative. It didn’t take long for Andrew to fall into unconsciousness.

  The group then assembled in the library. Maud brought in the urn of coffee and they were soon sitting around the large table with a steaming cup in their hands.

  “What can you tell me about the Munson family?” Ellis asked as he took out his notebook and began to jot down what he was told.

  It was Maud who answered. “They’ve been coming to the islands for generations. It was Phil Munson, Andrew’s great grandfather who bought the land and built the house. He lived there full time until his death in 1984. His son and grandson only visited during the summers.”

  “Was he the photographer?” Cammie asked.

  Glenn nodded. “If you walk around town, you’ll find some of his photos hanging in most of the shops. In fact, we have one here ourselves.” He stood up and left the room. A few moments later, he returned holding an 11 x 10 frame. He handed it to Ellis.

  “He had an eye for the beauty of the islands,” Glenn said as Ellis and Cammie looked down on a snow-covered beach. The sun was midway on the horizon. Its rays caught the ice on the sand and gave off a luminous sparkle.

  “That’s really good,” Cammie said as she studied the photo.

  “It’s his photos that helped spark attention to the Coffins. An industry grew up here around his work. Some people love him for bringing much needed tourist dollars to the islands, while others despise him for ruining the quiet and solitude.”

  “Did they hate him enough to take it out on Violet Munson?” Ellis asked.

  Glenn and Maud shook their heads. “They grumble about it, but I can’t imagine they’d turn their grumbles into murder. Besides, he’s been dead a long time. Why would they suddenly take it out on Violet? Especially since she was selling the cottage and leaving Eagla for good?”

  “What was your impression of Violet?” Ellis asked the doctor.

  “Quietly efficient. She was completely devoted to her husband and did all she could to ease his pain.”

  Maud continued. “She always presented herself as a regal lady who kept pretty much to herself. She was what I would call, distantly polite. She’d arrive with her late husband and children in July, stay for two weeks, then leave. I suppose you could say it’s in keeping with the family’s behavior.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The town gossips will tell you that the Munsons have always kept to themselves, starting with Philip Munson. The only one who broke the mold of standoffishness was Edward. He was always friendly and enjoyed interacting with the locals. His wife however, never came into town.”

  “Who bought the groceries?” Cammie asked.

  “Oh, that was Splash. When Phil died, his family became the caretakers of the property. In fact, he’s the third generation to look after the cottage.”

  “How did Mrs. Munson get along with Splash?”

  Glenn shrugged. “Alright, I guess. He did his job and she paid him for it. I never had the impression that they were friends. He was her employee.”

  “Andrew said Mrs. Munson got into an argument with Splash yesterday and fired him.”

  Maud and Glenn exchanged surprised looks. “That’s news to us,” Maud said slowly. “When I went to visit Molly a few days ago, she told me Splash was in charge of dealing with the realtors. He was to be present when any showings were scheduled. If she really did fire him, I have no idea who she would have asked to take his place. No one knew or took better care of that house than Splash did.”

  “Do you visit Molly often?”

  “She’s got the cancer, deputy. I go over at least once a week with food or just to keep her company.”

  “What did you think of Andrew and Teddy?” Maud’s mouth settled into a thin line. “It’s alright, Mrs. Northcott. Please tell me your honest opinion.”

  She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Andrew is an alcoholic while Teddy is arrogant and cold. I swear he has ice in his veins.”

  “I have to agree with Maud,” Glenn spoke up. “Both suffer from a deep sense of entitlement. I honestly don’t know where they get it from because their father was a compassionate, responsible man. When Hurricane Irene blew through in 2011, Eagla sustained heavy damage. Edward took it upon himself to help raise the funds necessary to help out the families most impacted by the storm.” Glenn shook his head to himself. “It was a great loss to the community when he passed away.”

  “Andrew was part of our hockey team for a while,” Jace spoke up. “He told me he was a writer. He was working on a book about small town life and would share some of his ideas with me.”

  “Did he ever publish it?” Ellis asked.

  “He went down to New York City about five years ago to discuss the book with several publishers. Or at least that’s what he said. I don’t know what happened down there, but when he came back a year later, he wasn’t the same guy. He’d begun drinking by then. Occasionally I’d run into him at Zee’s –”

  “That’s our center of town life,” Cammie interjected when she saw Ellis’ quizzical look. “Everyone stops off there at one point or another to grab a bite to eat, play some pool or relax with a beer.”

  “We had a few of those in Newport,” Ellis smiled.

  “Anyway,” Jace continued. “Whenever I ran into him, he’d tell me about the impending success of his novel and how it was going to be turned into a movie. After a while, I wondered if he honestly believed it was going to happen, or he had to keep the fantasy going to save face somehow. I invited him back on the team. He always promised to stop by the club house, but he never did.”

  “Was he a belligerent drunk?”

  Once again Maud and Glenn exchanged glances. “I heard there was an incident at Fiske’s night before last. You should probably talk to Keith Larson. He’s the owner. He could tell you more about it than I could.”

  Ellis turned to Glenn. “What is your opinion of Splash Mulroney?”

  “He’s a good man,” Glenn answered. “Ever since Molly got sick, he’s been hitting the bottle more than usual, but I suppose that’s to be expected. They’ve been married for forty years; she’s the one who’s always held everything together. Despite his drinking, though, he’s dependable. That’s why the Munsons have always relied on him and that’s why it’s hard to understand why Mrs. Munson would fire him.”

  “Did Violet or any of her sons have any kind of run-in with anyone who would want to hurt her?” Ellis asked.

  The Northcotts and Dr. Rhys shook their heads. “It’s as much a mystery to us as it is to you, deputy.”

  Ellis asked a few more questions, then excused himself. Cammie followed him out into the hallway and handed him a piece of paper.

  “What’s that?” he asked.

  “The phone number for Violet’s daughter.” He nodded and shoved it in his pocket. “So, what do you think?” she asked.

  “You saw the gash on Andrew’s arm. The wound was recent.”

  “You think it’s from the lamp?”

  “That would be my g
uess. Forensics should be out here within the hour.” He sighed. “This is looking more like a murder investigation than a case of a tragic accident.”

  “I agree.” Cammie glanced up the stairs. “I’ll keep an eye on Andrew while you do your thing. I know the doctor gave him a large enough sedative to knock him out, but…” she shrugged.

  Ellis smiled. “We can’t help being suspicious, can we?”

  She laughed. “It’s the nature of the beast.”

  While Andrew slept, Ellis set about trying to establish a timeline for the man’s whereabouts the night before. He had just enough time to walk over to Fiske’s before the Forensics team were due to arrive.

  Walking down the hill, he placed a call to the Coffin Islands Ferry Company.

  After identifying himself, he said, “I need to speak to the captain of the ferry that left Eagla last Thursday,” he said to the receptionist.

  “That would be Harvey. He’s not on again until next week.”

  “Then I’ll need a number where I can reach him.”

  There was a hesitation on the other end of the line. Ellis once more identified himself. When he was given the number, he hung up from the company and dialed Harvey’s number. It rang for several moments, but there was no answer. He left a message and entered Fiske’s.

  When Ellis first became deputy, he made a point of visiting all the shop and bar owners on the three islands to do what he termed a ‘meet and greet’. It was important they know he was there to assist rather than interfere. Fiske’s was no different.

  The establishment was in keeping with a rustic bar that dripped with nautical ambience. It was paneled in dark wood with life jackets, buoys and fishing nets adorning the walls. Here and there Ellis saw scenic photographs of the islands that he guessed were taken by Phil Munson.

  It was mid-afternoon. If there was anything that resembled a noontime rush during the off season, it was long over. A trio of elderly fishermen crowded one end of the bar. They looked up when Ellis entered and watched him as he took a seat at the other end of the bar.

  Keith detached himself from the group and came over.

  “Hello, Ellis. You must be here about Mrs. Munson.”