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Pallas shuddered, remembering the spiderweb of bad energy she had stumbled into in the hall of Fenner’s rental. “He was murdered. I’m sure of it. The killer was in the house that night.”
Neither man argued with her.
“Moore and Guthrie were already skimming off the endowment,” she continued, “but they got greedy. They couldn’t resist the prospect of going into the drug trade, and they had their very own doctor who could use his license to order the hallucinogen from a compounding pharmacy. Geddings realized they were moving into his territory here in town and offered them a partnership. They grabbed the opportunity.”
“They all needed Fenner,” Ambrose said. “Not only because the anonymous donor had insisted on having him appointed director of the Institute but because he was the source of the hallucinogen. Fenner’s only interest was in conducting his own experiments and those he was running on the side for the donor. Brooke Kendrick’s death was the disaster that threatened all of them. An investigation would have exposed Fenner’s illegal experiments, as well as the drug dealing.”
“Up until that point Guthrie and Moore were probably just a couple of low-rent con artists with fake academic credentials who specialized in embezzling the endowment funds of small, struggling colleges,” Pallas said. “But here in Carnelian they got in over their heads.”
Ron exhaled deeply. “One thing’s for sure—this whole mess will be the end of the Institute. The anonymous donor will pull the plug on the funding, which will probably be the final nail in the coffin of the college, too. This town is going to take a real financial hit.”
“It’s safe to assume the mysterious donor will disappear,” Pallas said. “But I’m not so sure the town will collapse. This is a beautiful location. You know what the real estate people always say—you can’t go wrong with waterfront property.”
Ron snorted. “Let’s hope you’re right. I own a chunk of this town.”
Pallas looked up from her tea. “You do?”
“Yep.” Quinn chuckled. “Geddings’s people weren’t the only ones in the smuggling business back before World War Two. But my relatives were a hell of a lot smarter when it came to investing the money. They bought up most of what is now Main Street. Looks like I’d better take a few steps to protect my assets.”
“How do you plan to do that?” Ambrose asked.
Ron drank some tea and lowered the mug. “I think I’ll run for mayor. Taylor has been telling me I need to find a new purpose in life.”
“Who’s Taylor?” Pallas asked.
“The reference librarian at the public library. We’ve been seeing each other ever since I got out of the Army. I’ve been trying to convince her to marry me for ages. She said I’m just drifting through life out here at the cemetery. Says I need to find a purpose. I think I just did.”
Pallas smiled. “Maybe it’s time we read the letter that fell out of one of the caskets.”
She reached into her messenger bag, which she’d found on the first floor of the asylum, pushed aside her phone and the Taser that Detective Logan had recovered, and took out the yellowed envelope. Once again she got the whisper of energy that told her that whatever was inside was going to be interesting.
She removed the sheet of stationery from the envelope, unfolded it carefully, and concentrated on deciphering the faded, old-fashioned cursive handwriting.
To Whom It May Concern:
If you found this letter it means you opened my casket and discovered that I am not inside. A year ago my husband hadme committed to the Carnelian Psychiatric Hospital for the Insane. He did so not out of concern for my mental health but because he wished to be free to consume my inheritance. He will pay for his cruelty.
I have had a year to compose my vengeance. Tonight I will be declared dead. My casket will be assigned a number and carried down into the crypt beneath this terrible place. The records will be destroyed.
In the weeks to come my husband will be troubled by my ghost. He will never know another peaceful night. When he is gone I will return as my long-lost twin sister to reclaim my life and my fortune.
Yours in Vengeance,
Catherine Madison Carnelian
Pallas smiled. “She did it. She escaped the asylum, took revenge on her evil husband, and reinvented herself as her twin sister so that she could regain her fortune.”
Ron grinned. “And then she made Carnelian a real community.”
“Brilliant,” Ambrose said. “Couldn’t have written a better ending myself.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
I’m so sorryyou got caught up in this mess, Theo,” Pallas said. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Theo grimaced. “I’ve still got a headache, but it’s clearing up. The doctor said I was okay to drive. I won’t try to make it all the way home tonight but I want to get started.”
“How did you happen to get in the way of Moore and Guthrie?” Pallas asked.
