"I had a detail of a dozen men. We searched the area thoroughly. There was no one about, but then again, one couldn't expect a murderer to lurk nearby. Nor did we find anything helpful. The hemp rope --- it could have come from anywhere. Not at all uncommon."
Charles Swanson cleared his throat and gave his report. "I spent hours in the village, questioning the girl's family. There was a young black, name of Bob, but he was obviously distressed at the girl's death."
"Murder," Diana corrected.
"Well, yes, murder. I don't believe he had anything to do with it. There is no motive."
"Surely you don't believe him," Deborah cried. "They're all liars and now afraid. He killed her, there is no other way."
"Bob has an alibi," said Charles Swanson to Deborah Savarol. "He didn't leave his hut last night, not for a minute."
Discussions continued. Diana found herself looking at each face, studying each expression. She kept coming back to Deborah.
Dido came into the room, sidling toward Lucien.
"Yes?" he asked impatiently.
"A white man is here, massa. A Mr. Edward Bemis."
"Edward!" Charles Swanson cried out, then paled at his outburst. "He is a friend, of course. I had no idea he was coming here. I thought he would wait for his lordship to return to Tortola ---"
"Yes, certainly, Charles," said Lucien, cutting his bookkeeper off. "Show the gentleman in, Dido."
Edward Bemis indeed looked the gentleman, Lyon thought, studying the tall, lean-built, immaculately dressed man as he came into the drawing room. He wouldn't have looked at all out of place on St. James's. His hair was blond, his face tanned and a bit too wrinkled for his age, doubtless from years spent in the Caribbean sun. It seemed as though his eyes, a clear pale blue, had been faded by that same sun just as his skin had been darkened. He looked to be in his mid-thirties. What was the man doing here? And his appearance was so very timely.
Introductions were made. Lyon didn't like the way the man looked at Diana, but when Bemis offered his hand to Lyon, he shook it.
"My lord," Bemis said, and Lyon nodded. Bemis turned. "Ah, Daniel, a lovely prize you've captured."
So Bemis knew Daniel, did he? From where? St. Thomas? Did Daniel look a bit embarrassed? Lyon wasn't certain. When Daniel responded, it was with his usual slow, kind voice. "Yes, indeed, Mr. Bemis. You do remember Patricia, do you not?"
"How could I not?" He took Patricia's hand and gallantly kissed her wrist. "The loveliest young lady in all of Charlotte Amalie." He turned his eyes to Diana, but was careful in his manner. "A long time, my lady," he said.
"Yes," Diana said. "A very long time."
Finally, Lucien cleared his throat and motioned Edward Bemis to be seated. "We are all here, Bemis, because we've had a tragedy. One of our slaves, a girl named Moira, was strangled last night."
"Good God!"
"By her lover," said Patricia.
"Who is this lover?" asked Bemis.
"A slave by the name of Bob," Deborah said swiftly.
"That isn't true, at least according to Charles," said Lyon slowly. "It is a mystery," he added, his eyes on Edward Bemis. The man looked mildly interested, nothing more. After all, Lyon thought, what was one black life to him? Had he really just arrived on Savarol Island?
"Why are you here, Bemis?" Lucien said.
"To meet with his lordship," said Edward politely. "There are decisions to be made, and since he is here, in the West Indies, I didn't feel it appropriate for me to make them."
"What decisions?" Lyon asked.
"I, ah, feel that we should discuss them in private, my lord." A rich dandy, Edward Bemis was thinking. A man who would soon return to his soft life in England and leave him in control. Excellent, just excellent. He couldn't have planned it better had he been able to.
Unfortunately, he soon discovered that he'd misjudged his man.
It was an hour later. Diana, Lyon, and Edward Bemis were seated on the veranda, sipping cool lemonade.