No Mortal Reason (6 page)

“How do you
know
that?” Myron Grant’s voice went up an octave as he glared at his younger brother. “That could be
any
locket. That could be any
body
.”

His expression forlorn, Howard Grant bowed his head. “I know because I gave it to her . . . just before she disappeared.”

Chapter Three

Diana stood frozen between Mercy and Sebastian, an unpleasant queasiness clawing at the pit of her stomach. When a workman had burst into the kitchen a few minutes earlier, babbling about murder, she had been certain he was mistaken . . . or mad. This was a
respectable
hotel. Now her mind was awhirl with confusion and concern.

There
was
a body beneath what had once been the west wing of the building and her newfound uncle had just confessed to a connection with it. Uncertain what to do or say, Diana glanced at Mercy and Sebastian. They were her cousins, but they didn’t know that. She was an outsider, scarcely in a position to ask questions, or even offer comfort.

Fortunately for Diana, Sebastian also seemed to be at a loss for information. “Who’s Elly?” he demanded.

 Mercy’s face had lost all its color when her father made his startling announcement. It rushed back, turning her cheeks scarlet. Her voice shook when she replied. “Elly was Floyd and Celia Lyseth’s daughter. She ran away years ago. I was still a small child. I barely remember her.”

Something the station agent in Liberty had said came back to Diana then. He’d told her that Floyd Lyseth’s daughter had run away with a peddler.  

Apparently, she had not. She’d been right here all along. Diana’s skin crawled at the thought.

She did not for a moment consider approaching the cluster of men peering into the gaping hole in the flooring. She’d been involved in murders before—both reporting on them and solving them—but she’d never had to view a victim’s remains and she had no desire to get any closer to this corpse, even if it was an old one. She frowned at the thought. By now, she supposed, there would be nothing left of it but dried bones. Still too grisly, she decided.

For the first time, she wondered how Ben stood it. He was a coroner as well as a physician. Not only did he have to see dead bodies, he had to perform autopsies on some of them. She shuddered at the very idea.

As if he felt her gaze upon him, Ben looked up. At once, annoyed at her own squeamishness, Diana held herself a little straighter. She forced a smile for him but was relieved when he returned to an exchange of words with her Uncle Howd and two men she had not yet met.

They spoke too softly for those at any distance to hear, but Diana could see them clearly. The man Uncle Howd had called Myron, an older, slightly heavier version of Howd, was the oldest Grant brother and her other uncle. He betrayed his exasperation by hands that were in constant motion when he talked. Finally losing patience, he knelt by the opening and, a moment later, eased himself down through it.

“Don’t disturb anything,” Ben called after him.

Less than a minute later, Uncle Myron emerged. He held a necklace in one hand. The length of delicate gold chain was recognizable even at a distance.

“Oh, Pa,” Cousin Mercy wailed. “How could you?”

Startled, Diana shifted her attention to the young woman. Cousin Mercy seemed to have no qualms about getting close to the remains. She’d almost reached the site when her uncle held up his find. Now she sprinted across the short distance remaining and seized the prize from his hand. It was plain to Diana that she’d already recognized it, but for a moment Mercy just stared at the object she held, an expression of shocked disbelief on her face. When she turned on her father, her scowl was ferocious and her voice razor-sharp.

“This was my mother’s locket! How could you give it to someone else?”

In silent appeal, Uncle Howd reached out to her, but Cousin Mercy backed away, evading his touch. She would have stalked off the construction site, taking the necklace with her, if Ben had not caught her elbow.

He spoke softly to her as he gently pried the bit of jewelry from her clenched fist. By then, Diana had moved near enough to overhear what he said.

“That’s evidence, Miss Grant. You need to leave it here.”

“Evidence of what? An old man’s foolishness? A father’s betrayal?” Her voice became more shrill with every word.

One of the anonymous workmen answered her. “That’s evidence of murder, that is. Them bones didn’t get there by themselves.” He looked at Howd Grant when he said it, suspicion writ large on his bovine countenance.

This was not good, Diana thought, taking another step toward her cousin. Not good at all. At best, her new-found family was about to face an uncomfortable inquisition from the authorities and a lot of unwelcome publicity. At worst, her Uncle Howd might be arrested for murder.

“Damn,” Sebastian muttered.

Diana had forgotten all about him, but he was still at her side. She thought at first that he’d sworn because he’d come to the same conclusion she had, but his attention was focused on two women who had just rounded the corner from the back of the hotel and were fast approaching the group around the hole. 

“I beg your pardon, Diana,” Sebastian said. “That was no language to use in front of a lady, but here’s more trouble coming. Can you keep Mercy away from Mrs. Lyseth? I’d better go find her husband.”

Although Diana did not entirely understand why Mercy and the victim’s mother
needed
to be kept apart, she saw the sense in locating the dead woman’s father without delay. Besides, she was glad of something useful to do. “Which one is Mrs. Lyseth?”

“She’s the younger of the two. The other is my aunt, Tressa Ellington. She’s my father’s oldest sister and housekeeper here.”

The two women were dressed nearly alike, one in brown and biscuit plaid, the other in gray. Both wore white lawn caps that nearly covered their hair, but there the similarity stopped. One moved with a determined, ground-eating stride across the grass. As she came closer, Diana saw that in spite of long skirts and tight corseting, this exertion didn’t even have her breathing hard. The other woman had to struggle to keep up. She was a pear-shaped individual, not as tall as her companion, but considerably more stout. Her face might have been pretty once. Now any beauty was overshadowed by bags under the eyes and a wobbly double chin. She was puffing and panting as she scurried across the lawn.

Four men caught up with the two women just as Diana intercepted them. They were, Diana supposed, the neighbors. Word of the grim discovery had doubtless already spread throughout Lenape Springs.

Diana approached the taller of the two women. She had the sort of bone structure that made it difficult to guess her age, but the few salt-and-pepper curls that did show beneath the frilled edge of her cap suggested that she was older than her energetic movements would indicate. “Mrs. Ellington?”

She’d guessed right. Tressa Ellington nodded. “What have they found?”

Diana led her a little aside, glad to see that one of the newcomers, a man with a beard like a thicket, dressed in a black, shad-bellied coat and wearing a broad-brimmed, well-crowned black hat, had engaged Mrs. Lyseth’s attention. In a whisper, she repeated what little she knew.

“They’re certain of the identification?”

“Mr. Grant is. Mr. Howard Grant.”

“Well, he’d know.”

The situation had already been chaotic. It descended into bedlam as soon as Mrs. Ellington informed Mrs. Lyseth that her daughter’s remains had been discovered. The dead girl’s mother let out a screech that would have done a banshee proud.

Another of the new arrivals, a gaunt young man with lank brown hair, rushed to Mercy’s side and, without a by-your-leave, embraced her.

“Oh, Luke!” she wailed, burying her head on his shoulder. “It is too dreadful for words!”

The bearded man caught Mrs. Lyseth by the shoulders and began to pray in a loud voice.

He was a minister, Diana belatedly realized, and berated herself for not knowing that at once from his attire. Unfortunately, his efforts did not seem to calm Mrs. Lyseth in the least. She slapped at his hands. He gave her a shake and began to lecture her on Christian humility.

By then, the other two men had joined Ben and the workmen. One took exception to Ben’s refusal to let anyone else examine the remains. He objected in such strong terms that Diana’s attention was diverted from Mrs. Lyseth.

Off to one side, her uncles exchanged soft but obviously heated words. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the flashily-dressed stranger who’d been with them when she arrived. Seizing his chance, he’d slipped away from the others. It was plain he did not want to attract attention to himself as he went. He looked back over his shoulder, then increased his speed when he got close to the corner of the veranda. A woman, who had apparently been standing unnoticed on the sidelines from the beginning, eased out of the shade of an elm tree and followed him at a leisurely pace.

Diana wondered briefly who they were, but she was soon distracted by the more dramatic scenes being played out all around her. Sebastian had asked her to keep Cousin Mercy and Mrs. Lyseth apart. She supposed she could best accomplish that task by taking Mercy inside. It appeared, however, that this Luke, whoever he was, had prior claim. When Diana looked around for them she discovered that the young man held her cousin nestled in his arms, stroking her back as she sobbed her heart out. Their ease with each other spoke of long intimacy, perhaps even an engagement.

A prolonged wail of distress had Diana’s head snapping around to stare at Mrs. Lyseth. She was batting at the preacher’s hands, which still clasped her shoulders. Diana moved toward them, unsure what she could do to help the woman, but knowing that she must try. She came to an abrupt halt when she reached a point close enough to hear what they were saying to each other.

“Damned forever!” Mrs. Lyseth wailed. The expression on her face was one of ecstasy.

“You know where the fault lies. This town has been perverted into an unsunk Sodom!”

“Glory! Glory! Glory!” She wasn’t fighting his hold. She was in the throes of religious fervor.

Diana backed hastily away. Her interference would not be welcome, nor did she wish to draw the preacher’s attention to herself.

She’d encountered religious zealots before, men who tried to frighten their congregations into abandoning everything that brought joy or pleasure. They forbade such innocent pastimes as singing and dancing. Games were an anathema, especially card games. And they denounced as sinful all reading material save the Bible and forbade attendance at theatrical productions. Diana could imagine what the reaction would be should Mrs. Lyseth and her minister learn that “Mrs. Northcote” had once traveled with a troupe of thespians and now earned her living writing articles for a newspaper.

After a moment’s hesitation, Diana turned back toward the construction site. She didn’t have to look at the body. She’d go only as far as the edge of the old flooring.

The fellow who’d been arguing with Ben had apparently given up his effort to get a look at the remains. He was no longer anywhere in sight. His companion had moved off, as well. Diana was halfway to her goal when she saw this second man give a start. He’d spotted Luke and Mercy.

“Unhand that girl!” he bellowed, waving heavily muscled arms in a shooing motion.

“Father—” the younger man protested.

“You heard me. Get your hands off her. And you, missy, keep your claws out of my boy.”

Mercy looked as if she wanted to make a sharp retort, but she apparently thought better of it. Instead, with an anguished look at Luke, who was being hustled away by his father, she fled toward the nearest entrance to the hotel, right past Sebastian and Floyd Lyseth.

“Is that my Elly down there?” Lyseth demanded.

Reluctantly, Myron Grant nodded. Along with Howd, Mrs. Lyseth, the preacher, Tressa Ellington, Sebastian, and the workmen, Diana watched in silence as Lyseth stomped up to the hole and peered down into it. Someone had lit a lantern and lowered it so that he could see what lay beneath the old flooring.

“Can’t tell nothin’ from that.” With a snort, Lyseth left the scene, ignoring everyone, even his wife.

The preacher stepped up, as if to take his place, but Myron Grant blocked his way.

“I’ve sent for the coroner,” the preacher said. He sounded almost gleeful about it.

“I would have done that myself, Riker,” Uncle Myron said in an irritable voice. “Buckley’s a good man. He’ll sort this out.”

“How long will it take the coroner to get here?” Ben asked.

“He’s got to come from Liberty. Probably be a couple of hours.”

“Until he arrives, no one else must disturb the remains.” Ben gave brisk orders to two of the workmen. They didn’t look pleased to be posted as guards, but they didn’t argue with him.

He had an air of command, and a charisma that most people responded to. Diana felt a sense of pride as she watched him. Ben might have a few faults, but his good points far outweighed them.

He could even deal with people like Pastor Riker. After a brief exchange of words, he asked the preacher to escort Mrs. Lyseth home. Diana could almost feel Ben exerting the force of his personality to persuade the other man to cooperate without further argument. To everyone’s surprise but hers, Riker agreed to the suggestion, although he couldn’t resist a parting shot at Diana’s uncles.

“The keeping of summer boarders is a snare of the devil,” he intoned. “Unless you keep a temperance house, even good Christians stray. Here’s just more proof that such sinfulness leads men to desecrate the Sabbath, play cards, drink liquor, commit adultery, and contaminate the local young people.”

That said, he led away the grieving mother. Except for the two guards Ben had posted, everyone else left, too, and Ben was free to join Diana.

She shivered when he took her arm. For the first time she became aware that the sun had set. Within a quarter hour, full darkness would descend.

“Was it really murder?” she asked.