“And Garrett refused to tell you who he had seen shoot this great-great-nephew of mine, because the man was a family member of his?” Seavey asked.
“That’s my supposition, yes.” Jordan took a sip of tea, which felt wonderfully soothing on her sore throat. She’d have marks where Bob’s arm had pressed against her neck for days to come, a fact that had put a grim look in Jase’s eyes.
“Charlotte, I need to ask you more questions about the night of the shipwreck, if you don’t mind.”
“Are we back to that?” Frank asked, exasperated.
“Yes,” Jordan replied, determined. “By doing some more reading, and from having another chat with Garrett, I’ve figured out that Garrett was the one who lured the Henrietta Dale onto the beach that night. Captain Williams then contacted him, I believe, on the seventh, and told him about the hidden compartments and the opium. The two of them returned to the ship to salvage as much as they could.”
She turned to Seavey. “I was always bothered by Williams’s claim that he was so devastated by losing the Henrietta Dale that he retired from service. After all, he’d only sailed her for a few hours when she went down. I know now that it was a smoke screen. He didn’t want anyone figuring out what he and Garrett were up to, and he also didn’t want anyone suspicious about where he got the funds to retire.”
Seavey scowled. “I hired Williams because I knew he had the … traits, shall we say, to do whatever I asked of him. Nevertheless, I am surprised he turned against me so quickly.”
“I suspect he transferred any loyalties he had for you once he found out about your murder—he probably approached Garrett after Eleanor’s article appeared in the newspaper. What continued to puzzle me, though, was that Garrett swore that he didn’t murder you.” Jordan shifted in her chair, uneasy at the thought that Garrett might still be lurking somewhere nearby. “In fact, he’s been threatening me to make certain I told you so.”
Seavey scowled. “That’s unacceptable—I will look into it.”
“No!” Jordan and Hattie said it at the same time.
“I don’t think it’s necessary,” Jordan added. “He said he’d leave me alone as long as I did as he wished.”
“And I don’t like you taking any chances, Michael,” Hattie said. “Unless, of course, there’s simply no other way to ensure Jordan’s safety.”
“I don’t believe I’m in any danger at this point,” Jordan assured her.
Charlotte spoke up. “I don’t understand. If Garrett didn’t kill Michael, who did?”
“Eleanor Canby,” Jordan said.
Charlotte and Hattie both gasped, but Seavey nodded thoughtfully. “Of course. Because of Jesse’s death on board the Henrietta Dale.”
“The only other possibility would have been the Customs inspector, Yardley. But unless he found the bodies of his men, he wouldn’t have had any real proof. Whereas Eleanor had the reality of her son’s death,” Jordan explained.
“I read portions of her memoir this morning, and she clearly held Michael personally responsible for Jesse’s death.” Jordan looked at Charlotte. “Didn’t you tell me that her reporters were milling around during the rescue that night?” At Charlotte’s nod, she continued, “Do you remember who was transporting the stretchers of the three wounded men to Willoughby’s clinic? And I’m assuming they were sent to Willoughby’s?”
Charlotte frowned. “Now that you say that, I believe only two stretchers were loaded onto the wagon and sent to Dr. Willoughby’s. Eleanor was directing that effort, because of her close connection to the doctor.”
“And it would have been easy to simply have Seavey’s stretcher carried farther down the waterfront, to a location where someone wouldn’t pay it any heed.”
“Dear God, yes.” Charlotte sent Seavey a chagrined look. “I was so upset, I simply wasn’t paying any attention.”
“No one would have expected you to,” Seavey replied gently.
“On that part of the waterfront during those years, all kinds of crimes were commonplace,” Jordan pointed out. “If, under the cover of darkness, Eleanor had paid someone to put a bullet in you and dump you under the wharf, no one would have intervened or come forward to talk to the authorities about what they saw. You were just another unsolved murder on the waterfront.
“Eleanor would’ve felt she needed to report on your murder, because to not do so would have raised suspicion. But there were no follow-up newspaper articles, because there was no investigation. The police had nothing to go on. Your body was discovered the next morning, when one of her reporters wrote and submitted the story, which Eleanor probably reviewed and edited, just to make certain it said what she needed it to say.”
“I had no idea that Eleanor was capable of such violence,” Hattie said quietly.
“She probably wasn’t until Jesse’s death pushed her over the edge,” Jordan told her. “Charlotte, you said Eleanor was hysterical on the docks when she discovered that Jesse wasn’t among the survivors, correct?”
“Yes, she was inconsolable,” Charlotte said, her expression distant as she remembered. “Two of her reporters had to drag her aside at one point, because she was screaming at Captain Williams, demanding to know why he hadn’t done more to save his passengers.”
“I suspect she slipped into a sort of fugue state at that point, then ordered that one of her reporters get rid of Seavey,” Jordan surmised. “My bet is that if you asked her a week later about it, she would have no memory of the incident. I could try to hunt down personal papers or memoirs by her staff, to try to verify my speculations—”
“There’s no need,” Seavey interrupted. “Indeed, I find it perfectly plausible that Eleanor murdered me.”
“All of this—both present and past—is a result of the actions you took back then,” Frank told him.
“Frank!” Hattie gasped. “That’s not fair!”
He shrugged. “Perhaps not. But Seavey was engaged in illegal activities that drew Port Chatham’s less desirable elements. His decision to hire Garrett as his partner, in particular, was fateful.”
Michael frowned pensively, then sighed. “I’m afraid I can’t argue with that reasoning.”
Jordan studied his demeanor, growing concerned. “I think we all make decisions during our lives that lead to unintended consequences,” she pointed out. “I doubt you had any reason to believe that Garrett would be so callous. He was part of a fire crew aboard a steamer when you met him, right?” When he reluctantly nodded, she continued. “Therefore, you would have had no reason to believe that he was a cold-blooded murderer.”
Seavey’s expression remained troubled. “Still, my judgment was faulty.”
Jordan shivered. “Believe me, there seems to be a lot of that going around.”
Chapter 23
LATE that afternoon, Jordan sat on her porch swing, drinking a glass of wine and reading escapist fiction. For the moment, she’d had all the memoirs, diaries, murder, and mayhem she could take. The guys had left for the day, a peaceful silence descending in their wake. She was debating whether she could handle going to the pub, given that everyone would want a full explanation of the day’s events. For now, she was enjoying her solitude.
“Thought I’d find you hiding out here.” Darcy’s voice pulled her out of a particularly racy sex scene that had her remembering what it had felt like to be held by Jase.