Palindrome (29 page)

"Germaine, do you remember anybody disappearing around here? Anything mysterious like that?"

"No, and if someone had, I'd certainly have remembered it."

"Well, I'll get somebody down here from the state crime lab to look at this," the sheriff said, "but I'm damned if I know how they're going to be able to identify it. There's no jewelry or wallet or anything else we can use to establish an identity."

"My guess is that you'll never know," Blaylock said.

"How about the teeth?" Germaine asked. "Isn't that how they identify bodies?"

"Yes," the sheriff replied, "but that only works when you've got some idea of who it is, and you just want a confirmation. You need some dental records for the comparison."

"Well, we've got a bunch of those," Germaine said.

"Dental records?"

"Yep. About two hundred yards over there, in back of the main house, there's a dentist's office. A man used to come from the mainland regularly to treat the islanders, until about ten or twelve years ago, when Grandpapa decided that the cost of putting in up-to-date equipment couldn't be justified by the reduced number of people working on the place. Everybody has gone to Jacksonville or St. Marys since then."

"Was there an X-ray machine?" Blaylock asked.

"Absolutely. Nothing was too good for the island folk, as far as Grandpapa was concerned."

"Sheriff," Blaylock said, "I'll be happy to go through those records and see if I can get a match."

"Go to it, Doc," the sheriff said. "If you can identify him, then I won't need to call in Atlanta."

"I'll get some close-up Polaroid shots of the teeth," Blaylock said, "and then you can take me to your dentist's office."

"I'd like all of you to keep this quiet, until we find out who this is," the sheriff said to the group. He looked at the skies. "We're going to have some rain, this evening, I think."

"In that case," Blaylock said, "I think we had better move this skeleton."

Late in the afternoon, Dr. Blaylock sat hunched over a light box in the dusty dental surgery, a small file drawer on the table beside him. He picked up a magnifying glass and made one more comparison of the radiograph films on the light box with the Polaroid photographs of the skeleton's teeth. He switched off the light box and stood up, massaging the back of his neck.

Then he picked up the film, placed it in an envelope, and put it into his inside coat pocket. He was confused, and when he was confused about a problem, he liked to sleep on it before making a decision. He certainly was going to sleep on this one. He turned off the overhead light and left the room. The sheriff and Germaine were waiting for him under a huge live oak. "Any luck?" the sheriff asked.

Blaylock shook his head. "I haven't got a match yet," he lied, "and it'll take me until at least noon tomorrow to get through the rest of the records. Why don't you go on home, Sheriff, and I'll call you when I've got an answer for you."

"All right," the sheriff said, turning toward his helicopter. "I'll wait to hear from you."

"I'd better check on Grandpapa," Germaine said, and turned toward the main house.

"I wouldn't tell him about this," Blaylock called after her, "until we have some answers." Maybe not even then, he thought. He got into his truck and headed for the inn, a hot bath, and some dinner, which he reckoned he much deserved. He still didn't know who the skeleton was in Light-Horse Harry's grave, but now he knew why Buck Moses hadn't wanted the Drummond family plot disturbed. "Holy shit," he said aloud to himself.

CHAPTER 45

Liz drove through the front gates of Dungeness, she could hear the blades of a helicopter beating the air. She looked up as she alit from the Jeep and saw it coming in from the west. James Moses was standing at the foot of the steps, holding the gelding, as if it were an ordinary day. "Good morning, Miss Elizabeth," he said.

"Good morning, James, I just dropped by to look in on Mr. Drummond." As she started up the front steps the nurse, Jennifer, appeared at the front door and saw the approaching helicopter.

"Thank God," the woman said.

"What's wrong?" Liz asked, alarmed.

"Mr. Drummond is having some sort of spell," she said. "I can't do a thing with him; he's thrown me out of his room twice. I called the doctor and Germaine."

Liz rushed past her into the house, then up the stairs. She turned right at the top and found Angus's room. The door was closed. Timidly, she knocked. "Come!" a strong voice said.

She opened the door and stopped. Angus Drummond stood near his bed, stuffing a steamer trunk with clothes. "Oh, it's you, my darling," he said, beaming at her. "I thought it was the bloody chambermaid again. She insists on coming in here while I'm running around in my"

"I see," Liz said weakly. Angus was transformed. From the sick old man she had seen only the day before, he had become authoritative, even youthful again; in fact, he seemed decades younger. "What are you doing, Angus?" she asked.

"I'm packing, that's what I'm doing," he said, walking over and putting his arms around her. "I've decided I'd rather hear you sing Mimi in Paris than hang about here out of season. I'll be with you in just a few minutes." He kissed her firmly on the lips, then returned to his packing.

"Paris?" she said, unable to think of anything else. "I've ordered a water taxi; we'd never make the morning train in a gondola, and if we miss that one, we'll have to change trains in Milan, and that's a four-hour wait. I hate hanging about railway stations, don't you?"

"Yes." She felt she should do something, but she had no idea what. All she could do was humor him until the doctor arrived.

"I didn't tell you last night," he went on, taking neckties from a closet and hanging them in the trunk, "but Cipriani gave me the recipe for the bellinis. When you come to Cumberland, I'll make them for you with real Georgia peaches!"

"That would be wonderful," Liz said. She could hear hurried footsteps on the stairs. "Angus," she said, "I don't know where my mind has gone; what year is this?"

He stopped packing and stared at her for a moment, then burst out laughing. "Why, it's nineteen twenty-three, you goose!" The door opened, and Liz turned to see the doctor and his nurse, followed closely by Germaine, Hamish, and James. She turned back to Angus.

"Goddamnit!" he bellowed, "I'll ring when my luggage is ready! I don't need the whole bloody staff in here!"

Then he looked back at Liz and seemed to see her for the first time. "Oh, good morning, Elizabeth," he said. He put a hand to his head and his knees buckled. Liz caught him in her arms, and the doctor moved forward to help her; they laid him on his bed. Liz saw his pupils dilate, then there was a rattle in his throat, and he stopped moving. The doctor produced a stethoscope from his bag, bent over, and listened at the old man's chest; then he stood up straight.

"He's gone." Germaine, James, and Hamish moved to the bedside, and Germaine took her grandfather's hand.

"What happened?" she said to Liz.

"Oh!" said Liz, beginning to cry, "I wish you could have seen him! He was wonderful!"

By noon, Angus Drummond's body had been washed, dressed in a blue suit, placed in his coffin, and stored in the Dungeness wine cellar, the coolest place on the island. Hamish, Germaine, James, and Liz sat in Angus's study. The doctor came in and handed Germaine a sheet of paper. "His death certificate," he said. "You can bury him whenever you wish."

"Thank you, Doctor," Germaine said. "And thank you, Jennifer," she said to the nurse.

The nurse stepped forward and handed Germaine an envelope. "Mr. Drummond gave me this last night and asked me to give it to you. It was as if he knew." The doctor and nurse shook hands all around, then left.

Germaine sat slowly down on the big leather couch and opened the envelope; she held up a single piece of paper. "It's the combination to his safe," she said.

"What safe?" Hamish asked.

 "I didn't  know there was one, either," Germaine said. "Where do you suppose it is? James, do you know?"

"No, Miss Germaine," James said.

"James, we'd better get something straight right now," Germaine said firmly. "Grandpapa let us know about you before he died. You're his son, which makes me your niece and Hamish your nephew. You don't ever have to call anybody in this family mister or miss again, all right?"

"All right, Germaine," James said, and he managed a small smile.

Germaine smiled, too. "Do I have to call you uncle?"

James laughed aloud. "No, Germaine."

"Now about this safe," Germaine said.

Liz chimed in. "In the movies, safes are always behind pictures. As one, the group turned and looked at the Turner hanging over the couch. Germaine got up and removed it from its hook, to reveal a large, floridly painted safe in the wall. Consulting the paper in her hand, she worked the combination and turned the handle; the door swung silently open. The safe was stuffed with papers, and on the top shelf Germaine found a large, sealed envelope. "Last will and testament," she read. They all sat down, except Hamish.

"Excuse me," he said, and started to leave the room.

"Don't you want to hear what's in it?" Germaine said.

"I think I know, more or less," he said.

"You read it." He left the room, and, a moment later, the front door of the house opened and closed.

Germaine turned over the envelope, tore open the flap, and removed several sheets of paper. "Here," she said, handing them to Liz. "You're the disinterested party, so you can be the lawyer. Read it to us."

Liz unfolded the pages and looked at them. "The other witness, besides me, is one Ronald Cummings; who is that?"

"You remember my Ron." Germaine sighed. "He never told me about this."

Liz began to read. 'I Angus Aldred Drismmond being of sound mind if not body, do hereby make this last will and testament and I wish all concerned to know that it represents my true wishes without the undue influence of any person."

"I appoint as executor of my will, my eldestgrandchild, Germaine Drummond. My executor is instructed that all my just debts and all the inheritance taxes due are to be paid from the liquid part of my estate, before any bequest is taken into account. I wish to state that the young man known as James Moses is my natural and much-loved son, the issue of a loving union between his mother, Helen Moses, and myself. It is my wish, if he consents, that, after the death of his grandfather, Buck Moses, he change his name by deed poll to Drummond, so that all the world may know that he is my son. I have established a trust known as The Cumberland Island Trust, which shall hold title to all the land on the island, excepting certain bequests, which follow. Attached to this will, and signed by me is a map which divides the island into tracts of land of approximately three hundred acres each, which are to be used in the disposition of the island among my heirs. No tract of Cumberland land shall ever be sold by any heir to a person who is not a direct descendant by the male or female lines, of Alfred Drummond, who received Cumberland Island in a grant from King George III of England. Should any of my heirs die without issue, such land as I have bequeathed to him or her shall revert to The Cumberland Island Trust, but may be occupied by the their spouse until his or her death. I do give and bequeath the house known as Greyfield, and the tract of land on which it rests, to my granddaughter, Germaine, to use as she may see fit, along with the sum of two million dollars.

"Oh, Lord," Germaine said, "he was sweet, but he didn't have two million dollars."

Liz read on. I do give and bequeath the house known as Plum Orchard, and the tract of land on which it rests, to my grandson Hamish, along with the sum of two million dollars.

I do give and bequeath to my grandson Keir any other tract of land on Cumberland Island he may so desire which has not been bequeathed to another, along with the sum of three million dollars, in the hope that he will construct a house of his own on this land. I do give and bequeath to my natural son, James Moses, any tract of land on Cumberland Island which has not been bequeathed to another, along with the sum of three million dollars, to be held in trust until his twenty-fifth birthday. It is my desire that James receive the finest education that he can absorb, and that he use funds from his trust to travel widely, as I did in my youth. I appoint as his trustees Germaine Drummond and my friend Elizabeth Barwick.

Liz turned to James. "We'll have a lot to talk about," she said. I do give and bequeath to my great-grandson, Aldred Drummond, the sum of three million dollars, to be held in trust until his twenty-fifth birthday, except that the income of the trust may be used for the purpose of education and travel. I appoint as trustees his mother, Hannah Drummond, and his father, Hamish Drummond. On reaching his twenty-fifth birthday, Aldred may choose any tract of land on the island which has not been bequeathed to another, and the trust shall pay him the sum of one million dollars, adjusted for inflation, to be used to maintain the land and to build a residence for his use if he so chooses. I specifically exclude my grandson James Weathers from any inheritance from my estate, and I instruct the trustees of The Cumberland Island Trust to bar him from the island at all times. I do give and bequeath to Martha Weathers, the wife of James Weathers, the sum of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, on the condition that none of this sum be spent directly on her husband.

I therewith instruct my executor that, in perpetuity, if any United States, State of Georgia or county politician shall advocate the purchase of any part of Cumberland Island for public use the sum of fifty thousand dollars from the residue of my estate be made available to that politician;s principal opponent for use in his campaign."

"I love it." Germaine laughed. Liz read a list of small bequests to servants at Dungeness and workmen on the island. There were also cash bequests to a number of charities.

Finally, including all the unbequeathed lands of Cumberland Island, and all my stocks, bonds and cash, to The Cumberland Island Trust, the liquid part of my estate amounting to approximately seventy million dollars, before taxes, administrated by the Morgan Guaranty Trust Company of New York."