No Mortal Reason (27 page)

She caught Belle’s sleeve as the widow tried to retreat into the parlor. “You’ll have to earn your freedom, Belle. Go through everything. Make an inventory. Fill in any details you know that aren’t contained in your late husband’s notes. When you’ve done that to my satisfaction, I’ll pay you. Not before.”

Belle’s response was a profane tirade including a pithy suggestion about what Diana could do with herself, one Diana had never heard pass a woman’s lips before. She ignored both the words and the venomous tone.

“Your choice.” She swept out of the suite, taking
Professional Criminals of America
with her.

Diana had no intention of giving up her wedding ring, no matter how good a job Belle did. In fact, she rather hoped Belle would renege on the deal and end up in jail. Diana was resolved to return later and look for evidence herself, but for now she’d had enough of Belle Saugus . . . and of the stifling smell of Belle’s patchouli sachets.

* * * *

Ben was not in a good mood. He’d overslept, then been rushed into a meeting with Myron and Howd. By the time he was free to look for Diana, it was nearly four in the afternoon and she was nowhere to be found.

He opened the door to the kitchen and found Tressa Ellington entertaining a small, birdlike woman of indeterminate age. “I beg your pardon. I was looking for my wife.”

“She’s talking to Belle, Dr. Northcote,” the woman said.

“Mrs. Curran?” Ben had only met Diana’s landlady once, but it was undoubtedly she.

“I brought Diana’s trunk, and a few other odds and ends.”

“She expected you’d reply by telegram,” he blurted.

She laughed at his embarrassment and graciously accepted his apology for rudeness. “Surprised you, I expect. But once I recognized Belle, I—”

“You did know her, then?”

“I did, yes. And more.” She gave him a succinct summary of what she’d told Diana. Mrs. Ellington’s lack of surprise indicated she’d already heard the tale. “I wanted to go with Diana to question her, but she said she’d do best on her own.”

Ben bit back a curse. Diana thought the woman was a murderess and she’d gone to confront her alone. Madness! “How long ago?”

“Oh, an hour at least.”

He took heart in that he’d heard no screams, no gunfire, no explosions. But he still didn’t like leaving Diana alone with Belle Saugus. “Excuse me, Mrs. Curran, Mrs. Ellington. I believe I will join the ladies upstairs.”

Mrs. Ellington blocked his retreat. “Are Howd and Myron still at it?”

“They’re trying to think of a safe way to deal with Belle’s threats,” he replied. When he’d left them, they’d just broached a fresh bottle of dandelion wine.

 “I believe your wife may have solved that problem,” Mrs. Ellington declared.

“I’ll just go and see, shall I?”

“I’ll come with you,” Mrs. Curran declared. “I’ve a few things to say to Belle Rhymer.”

“Not without me, you won’t,” Mrs. Ellington declared. “Just let me make one stop first. We can’t be too cautious if she’s all you say she is.”

Mrs. Ellington headed for the lobby at a fast clip. Since that was also the way to the elevator, the quickest route to Belle’s suite, Ben followed her. She’d already reached the little room behind the check-in desk by the time Ben and Mrs. Curran caught up, but she’d stopped dead in the doorway. Although her body blocked Ben’s view, he could hear every word she spoke.

“You ungrateful wretch! Put those papers back where you found them.”

“No harm done, Aunt Tressa. I was only curious.”

“I’ve no patience with you, Sebastian. Not anymore. I’m tired of your lies and your conniving. I think it’s time you went back to your parents.” At last she moved, stepping into the room and going directly to the roll-top desk. She opened a bottom drawer and withdrew a pistol.

“Good God, Aunt Tressa! There’s no need to overreact.”

Ben reached the door in time to see Tressa Ellington’s startled expression. It was clear to him that she’d been after the gun to take along on the visit to Belle Saugus, possible murderess, and equally obvious that Sebastian read a different intent into her actions. Mrs. Ellington studied her nephew’s face. Then she lifted the gun and pointed it directly at Sebastian.

“Don’t make me resort to desperate measures,” she told him. “They say confession is good for the soul.”

Sebastian swallowed hard, his eyes glued to the barrel of the pistol. It was a scant foot from his head as he knelt on the floor beside the desk. Scattered around him were several legal-looking documents.

“Well?” Mrs. Ellington’s voice brooked no argument.

“Fine! Have it your way. I came to Lenape Springs to worm my way into Uncle Myron’s confidence. He doesn’t have a son. Why not make me his heir?”

“He has other nephews.”

“Oh, believe me, I know it. That’s why there’s no chance my father will leave me
his
hotel. My oldest brother gets that.” The bitterness in his tone matched the sour expression on Sebastian’s face. “But I always intended to have a place of my own someday. Why not this one? Why not now?”

“Got impatient, did you? Maybe you’ve been helping things along a bit? Planting ideas in Myron’s head? Bad ideas? What were you looking for in Myron’s papers?”

When she gestured with the pistol, Ben’s heart leapt into his throat. Few things were as frightening as a woman holding a gun that, in all probability, she did not know how to use.

Sebastian rose slowly to his feet and backed up a couple of steps. When she waved the gun at him again he prudently raised his hands. “This hotel was left to
all
Grandfather Grant’s children. The others signed their shares over to Uncle Myron, but without that paper, any of his siblings could make a claim. My mother, for example.”

Mrs. Ellington glanced at the documents on the floor. “Did you find it?”

“No.”

“Empty your pockets.”

The gun convinced him to obey. His breast pocket yielded an envelope of the sort lawyers used.

“Dr. Northcote, if you would be so kind?”

Ben made short work of opening the envelope and skimming its contents. “It’s the agreement to give Myron the hotel,” he confirmed.

“You young fool.” Mrs. Ellington’s tone left no doubt of her disgust with her nephew. “What good did you think it would do to steal this? Even if it’s the only copy, which I doubt, destroying it would result in all the Grants having a say in what happens to the hotel. You might persuade Sally Ann to sign over her share to you but the other Grants would simply outvote you when you tried to take over.”

“There are four sisters and two brothers. I’ve already convinced three of the sisters to back my plans for the hotel and I’ve got a line on the fourth. Seems Aunt Elmira has a score to settle with Uncle Myron. She’s not going to stand in my way.”

Ben decided it was time to step in. He relieved Mrs. Ellington of the pistol, discovered with some relief that it was not loaded, and slipped it into his pocket. Then he turned to face Sebastian. “Did Mrs. Torrence contact you, or was it the other way around?”

“Why should I tell you?”

“Because I asked so nicely?” Ben seized Sebastian by the shirtfront and gave him a shake. “Answer the question.”

“It wasn’t Aunt Elmira. Not directly. It was Ed Leeves who got hold of me, about six months ago. He used to live in this town. Guess he doesn’t much like the Grants, either.”

Ben released his prisoner. Ed Leeves. Lida Rose Riker’s older brother. The man who was trying to convince Diana’s mother to marry him.

“I’ll take care of this,” he said to Mrs. Ellington. “I’ll send Leeves a telegram tomorrow.”

“You can make him back off?”

“Yes.” He hoped he could. If not, he’d have to warn Myron what was afoot, and that would mean a premature end to Diana’s deception.

“What’s going on in here?” Mercy burst into the small room,  took one look at the scattered papers and the document now in Mrs. Ellington’s hands and gasped. “Oh, Sebastian. How could you?”

“How could I what, cousin? Look out for myself?”

“He set Myron up,” Mrs. Ellington cut in. “Encouraged him in his foolishness. Saugus alone would never have persuaded Myron that Lenape Springs could be another Saratoga. It took Sebastian to convince him of that, and all so he could look like he was saving the hotel when he took over.”

“Were you behind murder and arson, too?” Mercy hurled the harsh accusation at her cousin, then launched herself, pummeling his chest with her fists. “Villain! Traitor.”

“Stop it, you little vixen!” He pushed her away. When she came right back at him, he hit her across the face with the back of his hand.

The blow sent her spinning into Ben. They both crashed to the floor, and Sebastian leapt over them.

“Are you all right?” Ben asked Mercy, righting himself and pulling her up after him. She looked stunned, and the print of Sebastian’s hand was livid on her cheek.

“We’ll look after her,” Mrs. Ellington said. “You catch Sebastian. Don’t let him get away.”

Sebastian was still on the veranda when Ben overtook him, caught him by the shoulder, and swung him around. Sebastian reacted with a right hook that clipped Ben’s jaw.

“Damnation,” Ben swore. “I don’t want to fight you.”

“Then don’t,” Sebastian shot back, following the words with a roundhouse punch that once again connected with Ben’s face.

The burst of pain was so intense it made his eyes water and all the frustration he’d been feeling exploded. Mindless rage took over, egging him on as he fought back. He ducked in time to avoid being hit again, but he had gone beyond merely defending himself now. He was aware of nothing but the blazing agony in his jaw and the need to inflict equal pain on his opponent as the two of them grappled at the top of the veranda stairs.

He didn’t know how many blows they’d traded before Sebastian’s foot slipped and sent them both tumbling down the short flight of steps to the ground. Tremont the goat, munching grass nearby, bleated indignantly and sidled farther away.

The incongruous sound penetrated the red haze of Ben’s anger. Panting, he blinked his eyes clear of sweat and realized that Sebastian, equally winded, lay on his back beneath him. The other man had the beginnings of a spectacular black eye, the one that was already puffy from the mosquito bites. Blood trickled out of a nose that was probably broken.

Ben didn’t imagine he looked much better, and that second blow had broken a tooth clear down to the nerve. With an effort, he seized control of his temper, but the pain did not abate. “Yield?”

Sebastian nodded.

Ben heaved himself to his feet and offered Sebastian his hand so that he, too, could rise.

 Everyone in the hotel seemed to have gathered while they were engaged in fisticuffs. Ben dusted off his trousers, uncomfortably aware of being watched by Mrs. Ellington and Mrs. Curran, Mercy, Myron, Howd, both Lyseths, and Diana. Only Belle Saugus was missing.

Mercy stood beside Myron, speaking to him in low, urgent tones, undoubtedly informing him of Sebastian’s perfidy. Once Ben saw that she was uninjured, he lost interest in her. His gaze shifted to Diana.

“You’re safe,” he said when she’d made her way down the steps to his side.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

He just gave her a look. She flushed.

He started to say more, but the intense pain in his jaw stopped him. His hand went to his cheek. The blow that had damaged his tooth had, not surprisingly, broken the skin, as well. His face was already swelling. “Damnation.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Tooth. Fractured.”

It hurt to talk and he realized he was speaking with a lisp. That tooth was going to have to come out. There was no help for it. He caught Howd’s attention as the other man took hold of Sebastian.

“Is there a dentist nearby?”

Howd turned his mild gaze on Ben and Diana. “In Liberty. If you leave right away you should be able to drive there, have your tooth extracted, and still be back before dark.”

“Just barely.” Myron seized Sebastian’s free arm but addressed Ben. “Want me to pull it for you?”

Diana stepped into the breach to decline the well-meant offer. “No doubt you could draw the tooth, but without proper dental implements, the risk of infection is much too great. Bad enough what a trained dentist will do.”

While Tressa Ellington fetched ice, Howd provided directions to find the  dentist’s office. “It’s right on the main street in Liberty,” he said, eyes twinkling with what Ben took to be sympathy. “You can’t miss it.”

Chapter Thirteen

Diana drove the surrey from the livery stable, moving along at a good clip that should bring them to their destination in half the time it had taken Floyd Lyseth to drive from the depot to Lenape Springs that first day.

Ben wanted to ask her what she’d said to Belle Saugus, but talking just now was a torment he chose to forego. Obviously, she’d come to no harm.

After the first mile, she volunteered a brief summary of their meeting. If he could have spoken, he’d have been swearing. If he could have borne the pain, he’d have been gnashing his teeth.

“She seems to have taken what I said to mean only lesser crimes,” Diana concluded. “She confessed to nothing worse than theft. She put the blame for everything else on her late husband. She’s lying, of course. Well, it’s only to be expected. She doesn’t want to be executed for murder.”

Ben grunted. New York had a death penalty. Maine did not. It had been abolished the previous year. And that was neither here nor there. If the woman was a killer, as Diana seemed convinced she was, then the last thing they wanted was for Belle to think Diana was a threat to her.

The surrey hit a rut and a new jolt of pain shot through Ben’s jaw. Ruefully, he acknowledged that it hadn’t been any more sensible for him to fight with Sebastian than for Diana to confront Belle. He didn’t often lose his temper like that. Hadn’t in years. The last time had been a knock-down, drag-out fight with his brother. Thank God there had been no serious injuries this time. When all was said and done, he deserved a little pain and the loss of a tooth for so far forgetting himself as to engage in fisticuffs.