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An Equal Measure of Murder

Page 22

by B. T. Lord


  She then pointed to the five photographs that had been in the velvet bag. These too were of corpses. The pictures were older and the four that showed the bodies of five teenagers were not as elaborately posed as those in the cigar box. “As you can see, the clothes they’re wearing look like they’re from the fifties.” She took the last photograph and held it in her hand. “This man is older than the teenagers by about twenty years. But his clothes also look like from they’re from the same era.”

  “Do you have any idea who they are?”

  She nodded. Then explained the 1954 disappearance of the five teenagers. “We found their skeletons last month. Another set of bones was found just two weeks ago in the same location. I’ve been in communication with my deputy and I think this last photograph is of the man whose remains were just discovered.”

  Ellis snapped his head up. “Are you telling me the same person is responsible for all of these atrocities?”

  “I do. Bear with me while I try to make sense of all this. If I understand his ramblings correctly, Teddy was planning on getting rid of his mother all along. Now it makes sense why she sold the big house in Twin Ponds and moved to a much smaller home. She wasn’t downsizing. She just didn’t have the money anymore to sustain her lifestyle because of Teddy’s mismanagement of the family money. She was only trying to save what was left by withdrawing all the accounts from Teddy’s control. But he didn’t see it that way. He saw her actions as some kind of betrayal. Somewhere along the way, he enlisted Andrew to help him kill her. But he couldn’t or wouldn’t. So Teddy killed them both.”

  “But what about these photographs?”

  “Violet must have found them when she was packing up the house. That’s where the second betrayal he mentioned comes into play. She must have been planning to call you to give you these photographs.” She met Ellis’ eye. “I believe Philip Munson was a serial killer. He killed six people in Twin Ponds and six people on the Coffin Islands. These photographs were his trophies.”

  It was dark by the time Cammie and Ellis left Munson cottage. The dark clouds had turned out to be a snow squall that blew through, leaving a covering of snow and downed branches in its wake. Cammie stood on the porch and looked out over the pristine white. It looked so pure and peaceful out here, while behind her, the house held itself in darkness and evil.

  While Ellis called Glenn to let them know everything was alright, followed by a call to Rhys to pick up the bodies, Cammie tried her best to wash the blood off her face and hands. By this time, her forehead was no longer bleeding. She did, however, decide to ditch her parka before going back to the hotel. She didn’t want to give the Northcotts a heart attack by showing up with all that blood on either her or her coat. Nor did she want to enflame Jace’s temper, which she was sure was already smoldering, by making such a ghastly appearance.

  After Ellis finished with his phone calls, she asked to borrow his cell, since hers had smashed when she dropped it to the floor. The first person she contacted was Jace. The second was Rick.

  Rick hung up his cell and looked at Emmy. He’d been sitting with her for the past hour, relieving Doc so he could make dinner.

  “I’ll be back,” he said as he stood up.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I was informed of some interesting information today. I didn’t want to say anything until it came together. Cammie’s phone call just now tied it all up in a nice, red bow.” His black eyes flared with intensity. “I’m off to arrest the person who tried to kill you.”

  Emmy gasped. Not only by his words, but by the expression in his gaze. He’d never looked that way before. His eyes were deadly. And frightening.

  Rick walked to the door and opened it. He paused. She watched in bewilderment as he did a sudden about face and strode back to her. To her shock, he grabbed her face and kissed her hard. “Nobody messes with my woman,” he announced. He then turned and left.

  Emmy’s mouth fell open as the feel of his lips on hers left a delicious tingle. She broke out in a wide grin. “Yahoo!” she exclaimed. Augie peeked out from the blanket and woofed in agreement.

  Rick pulled up to the large house that lay outside of town. He got out of his car and stomped over to the Denali that was parked in front of the garage. He looked at the passenger side door and saw a wide dent in the frame. Taking out his cell, he took several photographs. He then went to the front door where he rang the doorbell incessantly until it was answered.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Laurel Abbott yelled at him when the door swung open.

  Rick didn’t answer. Instead, he swept past her into the foyer which enraged her even more. “How dare you come into my home?”

  “People like you amaze me,” he said scathingly. “You think nothing of hurting and maiming in order to keep your precious reputation intact.” He watched the color drain from her face. “You picked the wrong woman to try and intimidate. And you certainly picked the wrong woman to try and run over with your fancy ass car.”

  “I – I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she sputtered.

  “I saw the dent in your passenger side door.”

  “That doesn’t mean –”

  “I know about the photographs, Lauren. I know what your great grandfather did. I know that your mother called to tell you what she found. Phone records show she placed a call to you that lasted twenty minutes the day before she died. Did you spend those twenty minutes trying to convince her to destroy the pictures? When she refused, did you panic and decide to go after Emmy to keep her from digging further into who killed those teenagers and Miles Mynter? Is your reputation so important to you that you’d kill to maintain it? Just like Teddy? You’re both cut from the same cloth, aren’t you? He murdered his own mother and brother. You tried to murder an innocent young woman. You two must have inherited your psychopathic tendencies from dear old grand grandpapa.”

  “What you’re saying is outrageous! Get the hell out of my house before I call the mayor!”

  “Since you’re so into your family’s character, let me fill you in on their illustrious past. Miles Mynter humiliated your great grandfather one too many times,” Rick continued, oblivious to her threats. “Did you know Phil was a special target of Miles? He loved tearing him apart at the town meetings.” Rick decided to take a gamble to see how Laurel would react. “Did you know Miles and Phil lived on the same road? Miles lived at 127 Fern Street. Phil lived at 123 Fern. Since they were practically neighbors, God only knows what else Miles did to stick it to great grandpapa.” He inwardly smiled when he saw the expression on Laurel’s face, confirming his suspicions that 123 Fern Street had once belonged to Philip Munson.

  “Unfortunately, Miles didn’t know what he was dealing with,” he continued. “At some point he crossed the line and paid for it with his life. Now here is where it gets really diabolical. Phil thought he’d be clever by disposing of the body in the one place no one would ever think to look. What better dumping ground than a haunted mansion on Halloween night? Unfortunately, five teenagers picked the wrong night to test their courage. Instead of imagining monsters at the Taylor mansion, they stumbled onto a real-life monster. He took the lives of five young people because they saw something they weren’t supposed to see. They saw Selectman Phil Munson burying a body in the garden behind the Taylor Mansion. That’s six people dead at the hands of great grandpapa. After that carnage, he probably thought it was time to get out of town. But he didn’t just slip away into the night. Oh no. He made sure to hide the murder weapon in a shed belonging to a feeble, deaf old man who’d never hear Phil stomping around in his backyard.”

  “The stress of your new responsibilities has unhinged you, deputy,” she sneered.

  He ignored her. “Philip Munson was the first in your family to become a selectman, wasn’t he? It could only be someone in that kind of position who’d be able to remove his interview with the police, the tax files that showed he lived at 123 Fern Street, as well as the Twin Ponds Gaze
tte articles that naturally would have spoken about one of their selectmen leaving town. Going to Eagla fit his purpose, didn’t it? It was the perfect place where he could begin a new life. The islands were isolated enough that they’d never hear about the missing teenagers or Mynter. And that’s where the story should have ended. Phil should have lived happily ever after, never losing any sleep over what he’d left behind. But he couldn’t help himself, could he? He loved killing, didn’t he? He loved the power. He loved the thrill. He took photographs of his victims, so he could relive that power over and over again. He was a monster, Laurel. And you’re no better. You’re under arrest for attempted murder.”

  “That dent doesn’t prove anything.”

  “It doesn’t. But you never should have licked the envelope you left in Emmy’s mailbox.” He shook his finger at her. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. Don’t you know how easy it is to extract DNA from saliva? I thought you’d be smarter than that.” He leaned forward. “Your family is toast in this town, Laurel. In fact, I’m going to make sure you’re toast in the entire United States. Once those photographs are published and everyone finds out what your great grandfather did, not to mention the horror of Teddy murdering his own mother and brother, there won’t be any reputation to be proud of anymore.”

  Laurel roared in rage as Rick gleefully cuffed her. He couldn’t remember ever enjoying reading someone their rights as much as he enjoyed reading Laurel hers.

  When he returned to Doc’s later that evening, he was beaming from ear to ear. Both Doc and Emmy sat in shocked fascination as he went over the events, carefully connecting all the dots.

  “You’re a hero!” Emmy gushed. “Wow, the town really may have a parade for you after all!”

  “I was just doing my job. Which I wouldn’t have been able to do without your help.”

  He took her hand and brought it up to his lips, which made Emmy blush and Doc inwardly thank the heavens that Rick had finally seen the light.

  “You’re one helluva detective, Rick,” he said. “And so are you, Em. Cammie and the entire town will be very proud of what the two of you accomplished. Maybe now the legacy of the Taylor Mansion will finally be put to rest once and for all.”

  “Are you sure you’re ready to go back?” Jace asked as he and Cammie sat on the pier waiting for the ferry to arrive. “Maud and Glenn are so upset we’re leaving, they couldn’t even come down here to see us off.”

  “I’m going to miss them too. They were so kind to me. But this whole situation made me realize how much I miss being a cop. It’s in my blood, Jace. I’m more than ready to go home.” She leaned over and kissed him. “Thank you for being there every step of the way with me.”

  “You dope. Where else would I be?”

  She chuckled. The sound of a car door slamming caught their attention. They looked up to see Ellis walking down the pier towards them. Jace unconsciously stiffened as Cammie stood up and met the officer halfway on the platform.

  Ellis had struggled with the decision to come out to the ferry. He hadn’t forgotten the rage that threatened to overtake him when he’d seen the blood on Cammie. It wasn’t often he let his emotions take over and it had frightened him to the point that he thought it best to leave well enough alone. But as the clock ticked towards the time the ferry would be arriving, he knew he’d hate himself more if he didn’t go. He had to see her one last time, even if it was only to say good-bye.

  He stood on the pier now, the woman he’d come to see standing before him. Her forehead was bandaged, and she looked remarkably self-composed for someone who’d come close to dying the day before.

  “I came to wish you a bon voyage,” Ellis said. “And to say thank you. I don’t think I would have solved this without your help.”

  “Not true. You’re an excellent officer. You would have solved it.”

  “Forensics is at the Munson house now. I’ll be here a couple more days wrapping things up.”

  “We never have to mention it again,” she started slowly. “But we know what we saw, didn’t we? We saw the face of Philip Munson take over Teddy’s just before he died. Right?”

  Ellis paused for a long time. Then he nodded.

  “I’ve been struggling to make sense of it all. No matter how many times I try to look at it from different angles, I keep coming back to the same conclusion. It was Phil, wasn’t it? I know how bizarre that sounds, but somehow, someway, his evil transcended his death. His darkness got into Teddy and Andrew, making them behave in ways they wouldn’t have.” She sighed. “Or maybe it was always there, lurking deep inside. It just needed Phil’s malevolence to awaken it.”

  She waited for confirmation. But the look on his face told her she’d never get it. It wasn’t an expression of disbelief or skepticism at what she knew to be an unbelievable ending to a horrific investigation. Rather, it was an expression that told her he believed every word she said. But couldn’t, or wouldn’t admit to it.

  Their eyes met. The deputy struggled to hide his emotions, but it was impossible. For a man accustomed to keeping his inner life away from prying eyes, he now found it difficult to conceal himself behind his usually impenetrable mask.

  Maybe it’s because you don’t want to. Maybe it’s because you finally want someone to see the real you.

  Cammie saw his feelings. She felt them in her heart. They were bare and achingly real. If Jace wasn’t in her life…if she didn’t love him as much as she did…if the circumstances were different…

  “Thank you, Ellis. You helped me realize that it’s time to go home and become Sheriff Cammie Farnsworth again.”

  She stuck her hand out. He shook it. He held onto it until she gently pulled away. She then turned and returned to Jace where she sat down next to him and rested her chin on his shoulder.

  Yes, she was going home. Not only to Twin Ponds, but to the woman she’d once was and would become again.

  Ellis watched the couple for a moment longer before he turned away and walked back to his car.

  EPILOGUE

  Cammie, Jace, Doc and Zee stood on the shores of Waban Pond. Tomorrow was Thanksgiving. They each had many things to be thankful for, including the friendship of the man they’d come out on this chilly day to pay their respects to.

  Because he had no family, Cammie had taken possession of Dancing Harry’s remains. She’d had the body cremated and the ashes placed in a silver urn. She knew how much Harry abhorred funerals. He never attended any, convinced they were more for the living than for the dead. He’d once told her, long ago, in another life before the character of Dancing Harry existed, that when he died, he wanted nothing more than to dance away across the water like the birds he so loved. She tried her best to honor his wishes, and asked Paul Langevin, the local shaman, to do a small ceremony on the shores of the beautiful body of water.

  The weather had been unsettled leading up to today. They’d already seen their first snowflakes of the winter season, and the morning dawned grey and overcast. It wasn’t until they began to listen to Paul’s words that the sun broke through the clouds and shone down upon the water. The winds that usually blew up from the pond died down, making it a perfect day to honor his memory.

  “We do not judge the life of this man. Just as we make our choices, so did he. He tried the best he could to rectify what he considered the mistakes he’d made along his path. And in the end, even as he stumbled, he never forgot the love he bore for this town, for its people and especially for Cammie. Flawed as he was, we honor his humanness. May Creator take his spirit to that place of peace and love. May he find there what he could not find here.”

  Cammie came forward with the urn and watched as Paul lit a bundle of sage and sweetgrass. Using a feather, he gently brushed the smoke over the urn as he murmured a prayer under his breath. “Walk in love and light, friend,” he said when he was done.

  She took the urn and walked up to each participant who bowed their heads and recited their own prayers. She then said a prayer of her own, the words unable
to capture the emotions in her heart. She approached the shoreline and closed her eyes, feeling the sun upon her face. When she was ready, she opened her eyes and took the lid off the urn. As she tipped it over, a small breeze came up, carrying the ashes wafting up and across the water. Just as he’d wanted, she watched Harry fly across the water in one final dance before settling down upon the surface where they disappeared beneath.

  “I’ll never forget you,” Cammie whispered.

  As she spoke the words, she felt her heart fill with a love so deep, so pure, it left her breathless. Whether the feeling came from Harry or from somewhere else, she didn’t know. But with it came a catharsis. Just as Harry had tried the best he could, so had she. A burden lifted from her shoulders as she realized, in a moment of stark clarity, she hadn’t been at fault that terrible day. What happened was something she couldn’t have prevented.

  “It is what it is.”

  Cammie turned to find Paul at her elbow. Her eyes filled with tears.

  “Yes, It is what it is,” she repeated.

  T H E E N D

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Thank you once again for taking this trip with Cammie, Jace and the rest of the gang. I am continually humbled by your support and encouraging words.

  Despite there being over 4,600 islands off the coast of Maine, the Coffin Islands are fictional. However, the idea for the Coffins came to me when I read about some of the ghostly paranormal stories that surround some of the real islands, including the infamous Smuttynose (or Isle of Shoals) murders that took place in 1873. Or the ghost ship that supposedly haunts Casco Bay.

  As you can probably tell, I love ghost/paranormal stories. I had such fun bringing in supernatural elements to this story, as well as my free novella Murder to Die For, which is available for download on my website www.btlordwriter.com

 

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