An Equal Measure of Murder

by B. T. Lord

  “Wow, this Mynter was a piece of work, wasn’t he?”

  “You know, I’m not saying his behavior was right, but I found some clippings in the sheriff’s police file that said he spent the last two years of the war as a prisoner of the Germans. Didn’t Zee say he came back a completely changed man?” Rick nodded. “I can only imagine what he went through in the prisoner of war camp.”

  “It still didn’t give him the right to bully and insult everyone he came in contact with.”

  “I guess not. Anyway, Edwina is letting me keep the files for as long as we need them.”

  While Emmy spent the rest of the afternoon with her nose buried in the files, Rick continued to field phone calls that came in regarding any missing persons. Finally, they managed to slow down to a trickle. Even Cora had run out of men to suggest.

  When he arrived home later that evening, he felt good about the day’s events. If Zee’s information panned out, that was one huge piece of the puzzle solved. Of course, it still remained to be seen if, after all this time, they could piece together who the murderer was, but at least Miles Mynter could be laid to rest with a name above his gravestone.

  Rick looked at the clock and saw that it was only eight pm. He wondered if he should call Cammie and share this information with her. Although he knew he didn’t need to, it would prove that he was on top of this. He also missed talking to her about a case. He was curious to see what her perspective would be. He reached over to grab his cell when it suddenly rang. Looking at the display, he saw it was Emmy.

  “Hey Em, what’s the latest and greatest you’ve come up with so far?”

  “Actually, I’m not calling about the files.” Her voice sounded strained. He immediately sat up. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “I shouldn’t bother you this late…”

  “Tell me!” he practically yelled at her.

  “When I got home, Mom said she found an envelope in the mailbox that had my name typed on the front. Thank goodness, she decided not to open it.”

  “Why? What did it say?”

  “Leave well enough alone or you’ll join that skeleton in the ground.”

  A steady rain pelted Splash’s slicker, increasing the pain in his head he’d awakened with that morning. With each step in the puddle-riddled field, the pain throbbed, keeping pace with the mud splashing up against his Wellingtons. Since climbing out of bed, he’d struggled with a deep sense of dread. He couldn’t quite put his finger on why he felt this way. He wasn’t given to premonitions of doom and gloom. But as he puttered about in the barn, the feeling wouldn’t go away. If anything, it intensified.

  He called his two children, who now lived on the mainland, to make sure they were okay. At the sound of their voices, he instantly knew they weren’t the reason for his unease. He went into the house to check on his wife. Molly was sitting curled up in a chair near the roaring fireplace, quietly knitting.

  She’d been diagnosed with breast cancer six months before. She was a fighter, but lately he’d seen the fight slowly fade from her eyes. Fear gripped him when he thought about life without her, but having lived with it for the past month, he knew her condition had nothing to do with the dread deep in the pit of his belly.

  He stepped outside onto the tiny porch and looked about. The house and barn were situated atop a tiny patch of land surrounded by wetlands. In the distance lay the ocean. He watched the rain come down in sheets of water. Soon, this would be snow. Time to start his second job of plowing out the town and a list of customers he’d built up over the years. It didn’t pay much, but it gave him drinking money to be spent down at Fiske’s.

  Looking across the tall reeds bending in unison to the cold breeze, he could just make out the Munson Cottage sitting atop its bluff. He suddenly felt the dread in the pit of his stomach intensify as he thought about Violet Munson sitting up there all alone. Teddy was gone, and Andrew was either at Fiske’s, or passed out in his room.

  What a disaster her sons were. Unreliable, with no sense of responsibility. Perhaps it was better he’d been born without a silver spoon in his mouth to keep he and his children from being like them. Everything he and Molly had, they’d earned by the sweat of their brow.

  Yet his thoughts softened when he thought about Violet. The truth was, he’d always felt more than he should for Violet Munson. It was ridiculous, of course. She was so far above him in social status, it was like spitting into the wind. She consistently treated him with a detached politeness and she always would. But that didn’t stop him from thinking about her in ways he shouldn’t. He remembered watching how old Man Munson treated her. It was how her sons treated her now – with absolutely no respect. Maybe that was the genesis of his feelings for her. She tried so hard to please them all, yet it never seemed to be enough.

  He’d also spent the years observing her relationship with Edward. It was the complete opposite. He’d been so needy. So clingy. Then he’d gotten sick and the neediness became worse. She’d had no choice but to sacrifice her life to nurse him, especially near the end.

  The anxiety increased. It had to be Violet Munson that was causing his stomach to clench so tightly. He needed to go over to the Munson Cottage and make sure everything was alright. He didn’t know what he’d use as an excuse, but he was sure he’d think of something by the time he arrived.

  Walking along the dirt lane that meandered across the bluff towards the cottage, the trepidation grew worse. So much so that he felt suffocated by it. He looked at the house and it suddenly became clear why he was so frightened. Something was going to happen to Violet. And he was the only one who could save her.

  Violet spent the morning and part of the afternoon searching all over town after finding his green coupe gone. She’d driven every road on the island. She’d swallowed her disgust and entered Fiske’s.

  Andrew was nowhere to be found.

  Her anger at his disappearance quickly turned to fear. If he experienced another attack like last night’s, he could be lying somewhere hurt or unconscious. She loathed calling in the police, but it was getting to a point where she had no choice. She needed to find her son.

  Her fear turned to fury when she arrived back at the cottage. It was Phil Munson’s fault this was happening. Him and those horrifying photographs. Why couldn’t she have left well enough alone? Why had she gone into that darkroom? If she’d stuck to her plan, she would have heard Andrew leave and been able to stop him. They’d now be on their way home on the ferry, free from this cursed house. Instead, he was out there somewhere. Alone, hurt.

  Mad.

  A Bible quote from her childhood suddenly came to mind. It was something her father said when President John F. Kennedy was assassinated.

  “The iniquity of the fathers will be visited upon the children and the children’s children, to the third and the fourth generation.”

  At the time, she’d had no idea what he meant.

  Now she did.

  It was Phil’s evil that was destroying her family.

  Violet thought of her late husband. What would he say to her discovery? He’d idolized his grandfather. To come face to face with the hard truth that Phil Munson was a vile monster – she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It would have killed Edward. But not before he’d destroyed the evidence. She could just hear his voice explaining his actions.

  We know what he is, but no one else needs to. The secret must remain with us.

  It fell to her to keep that secret.

  Could she do that? Would she do that?

  Violet closed her eyes and violently shook her head in an attempt to dislodge the disturbing pictures from her own mind. But it was no use. Somehow, she’d lived her life ignorant of what Phil was. Of what he’d been capable of. She’d never had a clue, an inkling to his depravity.

  Those poor children. Innocent. Posed to reflect that innocence. Yet…

  She thought about her own children and wanted to retch.

  If she called the police and reve
aled the photographs, they would never be kept under wraps. The world would quickly learn what Phil Munson was. They’d revel in the family’s shame. Eat up the juicy scandal. The thought of it all made her sick.

  She pulled into the driveway and turned off the engine. She sat for a moment, her heart heavy with dread and worry. She had to find Andrew. She had to dispose of the photographs.

  She had to get off this island.

  She climbed out of the Land Rover. And heard her name called. Turning, her irritation flared when she saw it was Splash.

  Dear God, not now.

  He was an excellent caretaker. There wasn’t anyone on Eagla who knew their property as well as he did. They’d never needed to worry about Munson Cottage as long as he was in charge of its care. But knowing how he felt about her made her skin crawl. Thank God she was selling the place. Once it was sold, she’d never need to see or deal with him again.

  With her emotions close to breaking point, she wanted Splash to disappear.

  “Hello Mrs. Munson,” he greeted as he came up.

  “You haven’t seen Andrew, have you?” She hated asking him, but it was imperative she find her son.

  “Sorry, I can’t say that I have.”

  She nodded and tried to walk past him. To her surprise, he stepped in her way. “Look, I know this is going to sound weird, but is everything alright?”

  A shot of fear ran down her spine. Did he somehow know about the photographs? Had he witnessed Andrew’s mad behavior? “Why do you ask?” she demanded.

  “I got up this morning with a bad feeling. I can’t explain it. I came over to make sure you were okay.”

  She inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. The secret was still safe. “I’m perfectly fine. Now please get out of my way. It’s raining, and I’d like to go inside.”

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Munson, but I don’t usually get feelings like this. I know it has nothing to do with Andrew. I’m sure he’ll show up. It’s you I’m worried about. I keep feeling that something is going to happen to you.” He reached out and laid a hand on her upper arm.

  Violet’s reaction was swift. Her lack of sleep, her sick worry and her anger all came together in a massive explosion. She jerked her arm away and glared at him. “Don’t you ever touch me,” she seethed.

  He stared at her in disbelief. “I didn’t mean anything…I just—”

  “Are you so stupid that you think I’ve never noticed how you’ve looked at me over the years?” He sputtered as he took a step backwards. “And now here you are, taking advantage of my grief. Telling me some half assed story about something happening to me. Why? So I’ll reach out to you for help? You are the last person on earth I’d ever turn to for anything. You disgust me. I want you off my property right now and I never want you to come back.”

  Splash’s face turned red. “Mrs. Munson…”

  “Get out!” she screamed. “Get out before I have you dragged off for trespassing! You’re fired as of this moment. I’ll have Teddy send you a check for whatever we owe you.”

  Shaking with rage, she reached out with her hands and physically shoved him out of her way. He tripped backwards and fell into a mud puddle as she ran into the house.

  With his jeans smeared and soaking with wet dirt, Splash slowly got to his feet. His shock at her words quickly turned to anger. His concern for her shriveled under her contempt for him. How dare she treat him as though he were something she’d scraped off her shoe? He’d been a loyal employee, always looking after this place even better than he looked after his own. There were times he’d neglected his own family in order to be at the Munsons’ beck and call. And now she was firing him? Just like that?

  His family needed the money he earned. Especially Molly. By firing him, Violet was condemning his wife to an early death. The thought enraged him. He opened and closed his fists before turning away. If she thought he was going to disappear quietly, she was very much mistaken. No one treated Splash Mulroney like a dog. He would get even. And he knew exactly how to do it.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “I’m coming over there,” Rick said as he grabbed his coat and headed out the door.

  “Don’t. If you show up, it’s only going to upset Mom.”

  “I don’t care. Someone threatened you. I need to make sure you’re okay.”

  “I’m sure whoever did this just left the letter in order to scare me. I secured it and will send it off to the lab in the morning.” She paused. “Rick, honestly, you know how Mom is. I don’t want you frightening her.”

  Mrs. Madachuck was a woman Rick wasn’t particularly fond of. Ever since her husband died several years before, she clung to Emmy like a tick on a dog. She was overly dramatic and narcissistic. It was a miracle she allowed Emmy out of her sight long enough for the young woman to have a job. He was worried about Emmy, but at the same time, he knew she was right. If he came over and the old woman got a whiff of what was going on, she’d (a) go into hysterics, (b) insist that Emmy quit working at HQ and (c) go into more hysterics.

  “Alright. But at least make sure your doors are locked.”

  “Sure. Look, I’m sorry I called you. I wasn’t thinking.”

  Rick held his temper. “Emmy, you were threatened. I’d be more pissed if you hadn’t told me.”

  He hung up and left the cottage. There was no way he wasn’t going over there to check out the surroundings. He’d just make like a ninja. Emmy and Mrs. Madachuck would never know he was there.

  Violet sat in the living room, listening to the ticking of the clock as the pendulum swung back and forth in the clock case. She’d been sitting this way for two hours, staring into space as each passing hour chimed. Finally, she roused herself to turn on the lamp against the growing darkness of night. Then she fell back into her silent reverie.

  If she’d thought she could leave the cottage and Eagla forever that day, fate obviously had other plans. After her emotional confrontation with Splash, she’d changed into dry clothes, then gone out again in search of Andrew. She promised herself if she couldn’t find him this time, she’d call the deputy and report her son missing.

  After an hour of searching, she saw his green coupe speeding towards the cottage. She turned around and followed him home. Knowing that screaming at him would do no good, she kept a tight rein on her emotions as she got out of the Land Rover and met him in the driveway. Still, she couldn’t completely swallow her anger. Because of Andrew’s irresponsibility, they’d been unable to finally get away from this place. Yet, any words of remonstration died away as she looked into his eyes.

  Who was this man?

  In that moment, the Andrew she knew and loved was gone, replaced by a gaze so full of hate and malice she didn’t know what to say or do. He glowered at her, almost daring her to say something. Instinct told her to remain silent. Smirking, he entered the house and went straight upstairs.

  Violet stood outside, her body shaking from the encounter. Then she followed him inside.

  A half hour later she heard his step on the stair. She looked up expectantly and saw he had his coat on. “I’m going out,” he announced. “Call Splash and have him take a look at the water heater. I barely had any hot water for my shower.”

  “I fired Splash today.”

  He frowned in displeasure. “Why would you do that?” The voice was low. Deadly. It was a voice she’d never heard Andrew use before.

  She told him what happened. “It’s better this way. As soon as we get home tomorrow, I’ll ask the realtor to find someone else on the island who can serve as a liaison.”

  “We have two more days before the ferry shows up.”

  “I’m arranging for someone to take us to the mainland tomorrow morning. There’s nothing more to be done here.”

  He laughed harshly. “We still have half the house to get through.”

  “I don’t care. We’re getting out of here tomorrow.” She cringed when she saw the expression on his face.

  “I’m not leaving.”

&n
bsp; “Andrew, please—”

  “If you want to go, be my guest. But I decide when I leave. And it’s not tomorrow. Good-bye, Mother.”

  He flung open the door and disappeared into the night. A few moments later she heard the roar of his engine as he sped away. Violet slowly crossed to the door and closed it. She leaned her forehead against the wood and expelled the breath she’d been holding. He’d never called her ‘Mother’ before. Nor had he ever had such cold detachment in his voice. It was over. Her beloved son was gone.

  “Good-bye,” she whispered in a tear-filled voice.

  An hour later, she sat in Edward’s recliner. Next to her on the end table was the lighter and ashtray. She was now convinced the contents of the velvet bag had visited its evil upon her family. She was ready to burn the damn photographs and forget they ever existed. But she was held back by one thought that wouldn’t release its grip on her conscience.

  What if those were your children?

  The thought paralyzed her. They were so innocent. If she burned the photographs, they would never know closure.

  What if those were your children? Wouldn’t you want to know the truth? Can you live with yourself condemning those families to living with the burden of what that monster did to their children? Undressing…exposing…

  A sob caught in her throat as she turned her head and spied a framed photo not far from where she sat. It was of Edward and herself and the children when they were young. They were standing on the front porch of the Munson Cottage, waving and smiling into the camera.

  I can’t do this. I’m so sorry Edward, but I can’t keep this secret. As a mother, I have to do the right thing.

  Violet reached into her jeans pocket and took out both her cell and a piece of paper with a phone number she’d jotted down earlier in the day. Having made the decision to leave tomorrow with or without Andrew, she’d call the deputy and ask him to come over either that night or early the next morning. She’d give him the photographs and be done with it.