An Equal Measure of Murder

by B. T. Lord

  Excitement grew as she searched the room for more photographs. She found nothing, but she didn’t care. The stack she’d found was enough to fetch a great deal of money.

  Violet gathered the photos in her hands and started from the room. Halfway across, she felt a chill abruptly run down her spine. She stopped and looked around. She had the uncanny feeling that Phil was about to storm into the room and rage at her for violating his private space.

  “Nonsense,” she scoffed aloud. “He’s been gone for 34 years. It’s just your lack of sleep catching up to you.”

  She started forward again. Suddenly, she felt herself hurtling forward. The photographs flew out of her hands and pain shot up her legs as her knees smashed against the dirt floor. She quickly looked behind, wondering what she’d tripped over. She saw nothing.

  I could swear I was pushed.

  But that was impossible. She was the only one down here.

  Violet slowly and painfully got to her feet. She looked down and clicked her tongue when she noticed the left knee of her jeans was torn.

  “Damn it, I can’t wait to get off this accursed island,” she seethed as she went to retrieve the photographs that were strewn about the floor. As she bent down to pick up the last photo that had landed behind the door, she noticed one of the bricks hanging half out of the wall.

  Lovely. Just what she needed – a crumbling foundation. She leaned over and gently pulled it out. To her surprise, she saw the strings to what appeared to be a bag fall out of the hole. She placed her hand inside and pulled out what was indeed a large velvet bag. Holding it in her hand, it felt as though it contained cylinders of some kind.

  Or perhaps more photographs.

  Her irritation instantly disappeared. Grabbing the bag and the photographs she’d dropped, she hurried upstairs where she put her treasure trove down on the kitchen counter. She quickly undid the string and opened the bag. She shrieked in glee when she saw that the cylinders were indeed more photographs.

  Oh my God, I’ve hit the jackpot!

  She slowly unrolled what turned out to be five photographs in total. Her excitement instantly shriveled, and bile arose in her throat as she stared at each one, her mind refusing to acknowledge what she was seeing. With a cry of disgust, she shoved them back into the bag with trembling hands. She then turned and barely made it to the sink before she vomited up her breakfast.

  The Forensics team carefully combed the property, searching for more skeletons or anything that might point to who the remains found belonged to. After doing his rounds, Rick went down and silently watched the technicians work. He prayed they’d find nothing more. Like Doc and Cammie, he was beginning to worry that the town was somehow sitting on a cache of undiscovered bones. He was grateful when the report came back that the area was clear.

  As he watched the team pack up their equipment, his cellphone rang. Looking at the display, he saw it was Doc.

  “I’ve finished my exam. Drop by when you get a chance.”

  Rick set the world’s speeding record. Although he was on the other side of town when he received the phone call, he managed to get to Doc’s house in fifteen minutes. He jumped out of his car and flew around to the back of the luxurious log cabin where Doc had his lab, nicknamed the Crypt by the locals.

  Hurrying along, he was reminded of the many times he and Cammie had walked this path to hear Doc pronounce his diagnosis on their latest case. He didn’t have the same close relationship to the doctor that Cammie had. Nor had he completely forgiven Doc for calling Forensics when the skeleton was discovered. Still, he had a deep respect for the man and hoped that whatever he’d found would break the investigation wide open.

  He walked into the Crypt to find Doc dressed in his lab coat, standing over the skeleton that was lying on the autopsy table. The short, bespectacled man turned a surprised owlish green eye towards the deputy.

  “Did you break the time/space continuum? I just called you a quarter of an hour ago.”

  Rick shrugged. “I was anxious to hear what you had to say.”

  “I suppose you were.” Doc beckoned him over to the table. “My conclusion stands that we’re looking at a man between the ages of 30 and 40. He was in excellent health when he died. No broken bones, no fractures.”

  “Were you able to find out how he died?” Rick asked.

  Doc gave Rick a magnifying glass and crooked his finger. “Take a look at this.” He pointed to the long leg bone. “What do you see?”

  Rick bent over and looked where Doc indicated. “It looks like nicks.”

  “Exactly. Now look over here.” He moved to the top of the skeleton where he turned it over and pointed to the shoulder blades.

  “I see the same nicks,” Rick announced.

  “They’re also on the humerus, or as the layperson would call it, the upper arm.”

  “So what are you saying?”

  “Those nicks were done when the victim was still alive. In other words, he was attacked with either an axe or a hatchet.” Rick’s eyes widened in surprise. “Exactly. I’ve already informed Colin. I’ll be sending the bones to his lab to have them check the hatchet against the nick marks.”

  “Could you tell how long this skeleton was in the ground?” Rick asked.

  “I may be multi-talented, but forensic anthropology is not in my CV. However, this may help you in determining a possible date for when he was killed.”

  Doc reached over to a table and grabbed a small evidence bag. He handed it to Rick. “It’s a tie-clip. I found it buried beneath the bones. Take a look at it.” Rick held the magnifying glass over the bag. There was a figure of a black bear in the center of the clip. “I looked it up and it’s from the University of Maine. Now turn it over.”

  Rick did and could just make out a date. “Looks like it says 5/25/1936.” He looked up at Doc. “What do you think it means?”

  Doc took back the bag and the magnifying glass. “If you hypothesize that the bones belong to a forty-year old man, then it’s possible to postulate that he graduated from the University of Maine in 1937. He would have been twenty-two, the right age to be either leaving university or going on to study for a masters.”

  Rick whistled under his breath. “Whoa,” he murmured.

  “There’s something else,” Doc replied as he went to a nearby file cabinet and withdrew a file. He took it back to his desk and beckoned Rick over. Opening the file, he took out a handful of 8 x 11 photos and laid them out on his desk. “These are photos I took during the examination of the five teenagers found in the wall of the Taylor mansion last month. Each picture represents one of the teenagers.”

  Rick caught his breath. “They all have nicks on their bones.”

  “Very good. I’d say you pass Go and collect your hundred dollars.”

  “Holy crap, Doc. This suggests that the person who murdered that man over there is probably the same one who killed the teenagers. It’s the same modus operandi.”

  “And it looks as though the hatchet found on John Graham’s property is more than likely the murder weapon. The only thing left to do is to discover who was on the other end of the hatchet.”

  “Unless the murderer calls me from their nursing home, I’m not sure how I can figure that out. Whoever did this is either dead or so old, I’d be surprised if they remember who they are, much less why they killed someone a gazillion years ago.”

  Doc chuckled. “Not everyone who reaches old age becomes senile. Your grandmother is a perfect example.”

  The deputy looked abashed. “Yeah, that’s true. Now I really need to find those missing real estate files. It’s looking more and more that whoever lived there may have been responsible for killing six people.”

  Doc gave him a friendly slap on the back. “I’m sure you’ll figure this out. Cammie has always had complete confidence in you. She doesn’t respect someone unless they deserve it, you know. Nor is she usually wrong when it comes to judging people.”

  That made Rick feel good. He was
still grinning when he and Emmy later sat down in HQ and went over the case.

  “Wow, this is amazing,” Emmy exclaimed. “You might actually be able to solve a murder that’s been hanging over this town for 64 years!”

  “I don’t have a name for the murderer yet.”

  “That will come. I’ll start looking in the database to see if there were any reports of a man missing in the early 1950s who fits Doc’s criteria.” She turned to go back to her desk when she suddenly and impulsively threw her arms around Rick’s neck. “I’m so proud of you, Rick. This should help you see that you’re just as good an investigator as Sheriff Farnsworth,” she smiled as she let him go and skipped back to her desk.

  Rick started to protest when he paused. He hadn’t actually solved the case yet, but it did show he was on the right track.

  He sat back in his chair. He really would be a hero if he could solve this case and banish away the shadows of the 1954 murders. They might even have a parade down Main Street for him. Wouldn’t that be something?

  “How about dinner tonight at Zee’s?” he suddenly asked Emmy. “I feel like splurging.”

  She looked up from her computer and smiled warmly at him. “I’d like that,” she said before she lowered her head and turned her attention back to the screen.

  Violet was paralyzed with shock and revulsion. She’d shoved the velvet bag in the space between the dishwasher and refrigerator, covering it with a broom before grabbing her coat and fleeing outside. Walking in a daze, she brought herself up when she found herself approaching the edge of the cliff. Below her, the waves roared as they flung themselves against the rocks that only become visible during low tide. She’d hoped the cold wind coming up from the ocean would clear her head. She needed to think, but any rational thought was drowned out by the hysteria running through her mind.

  My God, what do I do? I can’t think straight. Every time I think of those horrible pictures –

  She shoved her knuckle into her mouth and closed her eyes against the tears that blurred her vision.

  I need help. I can’t manage this alone.

  She took out her cell phone and stared down at it. She loathed having to involve someone else, but she felt so beaten down, so helpless in the face of something so monstrous, she had no choice. With trembling fingers, she searched through her contact list until she found the number she was looking for. She hit dial and prayed fervently it would be picked up. When it was, she dispensed with any greeting. Instead, she blurted out, “I’m so sorry to bother you, but I need your help. I have no one else to turn to.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Cammie sat before the large picture window in the library. Below her was a beautiful view of the harbor, the town and the ocean beyond. Instead of admiring the vista however, she had her nose buried in the computer Glenn had set up for hers and Jace’s use. Guessing they’d find the almost comatose pace of life on Eagla during the winter months too confining, he placed this lifeline to the outside world in one of the more private spots in the hotel for them to enjoy.

  A steady rain was falling, making it impossible to take her daily walk with Jace down on the beach. She’d awakened that morning, still emotionally hung over from the night before. It was all she could do to throw the covers off and climb out of bed. Yet, she knew it would be worse if she remained curled up in a fetal position, waiting to be swallowed up whole by hopelessness and melancholia. There was no escaping the fact that she obviously wasn’t ready to return to Twin Ponds just yet.

  Doc said it would take a while. I have to stop competing with myself. This isn’t the Get Well Fast Olympics.

  She threw on some clothes, made herself eat breakfast, then looked around for something to do. Jace was once more in the garage helping Glenn with one of the cars, so she was alone with way too much time on her hands. She tried to read, but her concentration kept wavering. Restless and bored out of her mind, she was willing to risk coming down with pneumonia just to get out of the hotel.

  It was then that she walked into the library and spied the computer. Of course! She could while away the hours surfing the internet. She sat down, turned it on and caught up with world news. When that became too depressing, she went onto the Hollywood gossip sites. Overdosing on the narcissistic vacuity of Tinsel Town, she drummed her fingers on the table, trying to figure out what she could look up next. It was then she remembered the spooky stories Ellis told her about the Coffin Islands.

  She lacked Emmy’s skill at finding whatever was needed on the internet, but after clicking on several websites, she finally stumbled upon a blog written by a teenager from Sarke Island who considered herself a fledging reporter. The last entry was three months ago, but she went into detail about an arrest Martin had made involving a fisherman threatening the life of another fisherman.

  Dad told me Ewan Marris was up in arms tonight and threatening Chris Parker’s life because he thought Chris was stealing his lobster pots. As if. Chris would never do something stupid like that. It’s like an unwritten law that you NEVER touch another fisherman’s lobster pots. Anyway, that new deputy the islands hired – Ellis Martin (what kind of a name is Ellis anyway?) showed up and in Clint Eastwood style calmed everything down. Dad was impressed by what he called ‘the guy’s calm authority’. I saw him once and I have to admit, he is a bit of a babe magnet. One of those tall, dark and handsome types, even if he is kinda ancient.

  Cammie laughed out loud when she finished reading the last part of the blog. She wasn’t sure if she’d categorize Ellis as tall, dark and handsome, or even as a babe magnet, but he certainly did have a quiet authority about him – a man who was accustomed to being in charge and didn’t mind the weight of responsibility that position entailed.

  The story reignited her curiosity about the deputy. She immediately started searching the social media sites. To her dismay, she found nothing except his picture under the Coffin Islands municipal website. It reiterated what she already knew – that he’d been a member of NCIS for twenty years, along with a phone number where he could be reached.

  Further surfing elicited nothing more. She sat back in her chair and ruefully rubbed her cheek with the back of her hand. Jeez, she must be beyond bored to waste over an hour looking up a man she’d probably never see again.

  She heard a step and turned to see Jace enter the room. He was bundled up in his coat, hat and scarf.

  “The rain’s finally stopped. I finished up with Uncle Glenn and Aunt Maud says lunch won’t be ready for another hour. Feel like a walk on the beach?”

  “Sounds great. I’ll just grab my coat and hat.”

  Jumping out of her chair, she swept past Jace and ran upstairs.

  He wandered around the library waiting for her return. Noticing the computer was on, he went over and sat down. He was about to click on Google to check up on the Boston Bruins game scores when he noticed the search bar at the top of the screen. On it was the name of Ellis Martin. His brow furrowed.

  Why was Cammie looking up the deputy’s name?

  He felt a flash of jealousy course through him. Everyone knew Cammie was nosy. Even she knew she was nosy, though she tried her best to convince everyone it was a necessary part of her job. The last time he’d felt this jealous was when her first boyfriend, the famous hockey player Eli Kelley came back to town last year. At the time he’d believed she was ready to dump him and return to Eli. That was a nightmare he never wanted to live through again.

  Yet he couldn’t shake the unease at seeing Martin’s name in the search bar. Was it just a natural curiosity about a fellow police officer? The last thing either of them ever expected was to become caught up in a police investigation. He’d deliberately picked these remote islands to shield her from all that. Thankfully it had turned out to be nothing. Just a kid pulling a dangerous prank.

  So why is she looking this guy up?

  When she came downstairs, wrapped in her thick coat, scarf and hat squashed down over her hair, he had no choice but to let it go. S
till, despite his determination to not go there, it dogged his every step, following the two closely as they walked along the beach together.

  Dinner went exactly the way Emmy had always hoped a dinner date with Rick would go. Even if it wasn’t technically a dinner date, it still felt like one to her. They sat in one of the corner booths where the light was dim, and they had a bit of privacy. The conversation flowed with no awkward pauses, and she was both surprised and a little disappointed when she glanced at her watch and saw that two hours had flown by. She wanted the evening to last forever. Although they’d worked together for over three years, she was still amazed at how easily they finished each other’s sentences. They were so on the same wavelength, it was spooky.

  The best part was that Rick didn’t seem to be in any hurry to end the evening. As far as she could tell, there were no women beyond the doors of Zee’s waiting for him to show up. He wasn’t constantly sneaking peeks at his watch, wondering when the best time was to make his escape. He was the most relaxed she’d seen him in since the whole mess with the Sheriff happened.

  If this is a dream, I never want to wake up.

  They lingered over their desserts as the topic of their latest investigation inevitably came up.

  “I have a good feeling we’re going to figure out who the man buried at the Taylor mansion was,” Emmy said as she and Rick shared Zee’s delicious Moose Mousse.

  “I sure hope so. This would certainly be easier to solve if his death took place within the last year. These really old cases are tough. Witnesses are dead. Evidence is either non-existent or so degraded, it’s useless. The town itself has changed in over sixty years. I’ll be amazed if we figure out who the murderer was.”

  Nervous that Rick would slide back into self-doubt and ruin the light, almost intimate mood in their booth, she impulsively reached out with her hand and placed it over his. “I know you can solve this, Rick. You’ve got the talent and the brains. You want to bring justice to those victims. If the murderer is still alive, it means they were able to live a long life, something they denied to those six people. You won’t rest until you figure it out. And you will, just you wait. A clue is going to pop up that will break this case wide open.”