"Well, I'm sure you know by now that I've been interested in the mystery of Gloria Cromwell's death," Jennifer began.

"Yes, I believe they mentioned something about that in the papers," he said.

The room grew silent. "Derby," Jennifer said as she pulled out the photo from her purse, "is this you in the picture with Miss Cromwell?"

"Yes…yes, it is."

Jennifer glanced over at Charles who had been sitting silently, looking at the floor. "Why didn't you tell me this was Derby?" she asked gently.

Charles drew a deep breath. "I guess I just didn't want to bring up the past anymore. I didn't want you to upset my brother about Gloria…that was a long time ago. It's all in the past."

Jennifer looked at Derby who was watching Charles with a perplexed look.

"Is this upsetting to you?" Jennifer asked him.

"No, Mrs. Hart, not at all. You see, I'm the one who stuck the photo under your door," he said sheepishly, "When I heard that you had found Gloria's letter-opener, I couldn't believe it. I had given that to her the summer she died. I should have just brought you the photo and asked you to look into her death, but I thought that if you found it mysteriously, it might get you more interested in the case," he said, looking away guiltily. Jennifer smiled tenderly at him.

"Can I ask you what else you found? Miss Belleveau had only mentioned the letter-opener and some other 'artifacts'," he asked.

"The letter-opener was in a felt pouch, along with a gold ring and a page from a book," Jennifer answered. "I hope we can find those items again. They were stolen, you know." Charles shifted in his seat.

"A ring?" he asked, his eyes staring at her intently.

"Yes, it was a plain gold band that was inscribed. It said To My Beloved…"

"Love GC," Derby finished, his eyes welling with tears. "I gave her that ring. I'm GC - Gerard is my real name. Gloria never called me Derby."

Jonathan spoke up, "You were in love with Gloria?"

Derby swallowed the tears in his throat, remembering that fateful summer of 1944. "Yes, I was in love with Gloria, very much so," he began. "I first met her in the library in 1942 during one of my breaks. She was reading Shakespeare's sonnets and I had remarked that I too enjoyed Shakespeare. She seemed delighted to find someone else who shared her love of his works. We talked endlessly of our favorite books. She even let me read her own poetry. The following summer she returned and we picked up where we left off - it was if she had never left during the winter season. But, that summer our relationship grew. After work, I would meet her up on Carter's Ridge and we would talk and read poetry and watch the sun set. I fell in love with her…

"But, I also knew that I was merely a kitchen worker, hardly the suitor that someone of Gloria's stature would consider. I couldn't imagine that she could love me in return, being what I was. So, at the end of that summer, I tried to convince myself that we shouldn't see each other."

"What happened when she returned in 1944?" Jennifer asked, hanging on Derby's every word.

"Seeing her return that summer renewed my passion for her. At that point, I realized that I needed to be with her, and so I took a chance and bought her a ring, and waited for the right opportunity," he recalled.

"What happened when you gave her the ring?" Jonathan asked.

"I never gave it to her. You see, there was this other fellow that was after her. Do you remember Ferguson Wells, Charles?" Derby turned to look at his brother.

Charles, who had been sitting quietly, nodded his head. "Yes, I do, Derby."

Derby continued, "Mr. Wells was a wealthy business tycoon. He too was smitten with Gloria. I don't think she cared for him though. She always seemed to be avoiding him. He was here for the International Monetary Committee that summer, but he was also interested in purchasing land on the mountainside to clear for a lumbering company. Gloria was a conservationist, you know, and was dead set against it. She was very upset about it."

"Do you remember the day she died, Derby?" Jennifer asked. Charles sat forward in his seat, watching Derby curiously.

"Like it was yesterday," he paused and stared out the window. "I had seen her that morning and she seemed distraught. I asked her to meet me at the Ridge at four o'clock. The summer was almost over and I was afraid of losing her. I was going to get off early that day and give her the ring. I had even brought my favorite Shakespeare's sonnet to read to her when I proposed…but I never got there."

"You didn't?" Charles suddenly spoke up. Derby looked at him sadly and shook his head. Puzzled, Charles sat back with a furrowed brow.

"By the time I got off from my shift, the news had traveled back that she had killed herself - that she had stabbed herself to death up on Carter's Ridge," Derby said, his voicing trailing off.

"Did you believe that she had killed herself?" Jennifer asked.

"At first I couldn't believe it, but that's what the coroner's report said. I didn't know what to think, I was so grief-stricken. I took some time off, and then got on with things. It was all I could do."

"So, how did the letter-opener, ring, and sonnet end up hidden in our room? Did you put them there?" Jonathan asked, trying to put the pieces together.

"No, that really shocked me. You see, that afternoon when I went to get the ring and sonnet from my room, it was missing. I looked everywhere, but I didn't report them missing. I felt too foolish…and then when Gloria was found, it didn't really seem to matter anymore."

The four of them sat quietly pondering the mystery. Finally, Charles broke the silence.

"Derby, is that what really happened?"

"Why, yes, Charles. You knew I loved her," Derby said, bewildered at his brother's question.

"Is something troubling you, Charles?" Jennifer asked, sensing his uneasiness.

"Well," he cleared his throat, "Derby, you're not going to like what I have to say, but… all this time, I…uh…thought…you…had killed her."

"Charles!" he said, astonished. Jonathan and Jennifer exchanged surprised glances.

"Derby, that afternoon, Ferguson Wells came to see me. I thought he wanted something from the kitchen, but he pulled me aside and said he needed to talk to me privately. We met in his room, so I knew it must be very serious," Charles said, running his hands through his hair. "He told me that he had been walking up on the trail and saw you with Gloria…that the two of you were arguing…and that you threatened to kill her. He warned me that I should watch out for you. Well, when they found Gloria's body, I thought that you may have done it. I was frightened for you, Derby. I went to your room, took the pouch with the ring and sonnet in it, and brought it to my room. I didn't want there to be any evidence for the police. Later, I found the letter-opener that you had given her wrapped in a towel in our kitchen locker. It all seemed to add up, and I was panic-stricken."

"So, you hid the items under a bed in the hotel?" Jonathan asked.

"Yes, I found an open room and hid them. "

Derby had been listening to his brother, not believing that Charles thought he had murdered Gloria, the woman that he had loved so dearly. "Charles, how could you think I would have done such a thing…murder someone?…someone I loved?" He shook his head in disbelief.

"I didn't know what to think. I was scared for you. I never wanted to know what happened, so when they called it a suicide, I was relieved and just put it out of my mind."

"So, if Derby didn't kill her…then who did?" Jennifer asked.

Charles and Derby looked at each other, both of them thinking the same thought.

"Ferguson," they said in unison.

Jonathan and Jennifer exchanged glances. "How can you be sure?" Jennifer asked.

"It only makes sense now. Ferguson must have followed her up to Carter's Ridge and tried to win her over. Who knows what happened when she rejected him - he may have become violent and lost control. After he stabbed her - probably with the letter-opener, he must have sought out Charles to plant the seeds that I was the suspect. He figured they would sooner pin the murder on some poor, smitten kitchen worker than a rich and powerful businessman," Derby said sadly.

Charles spoke up. "Ferguson was well-connected too. He could have exerted his influence over the coroner so that the questions about her death were put to rest."

"Either way, he got away with murder," Jennifer said plainly.

"Maybe we can track him down," Jonathan offered, knowing it was a long shot.

Charles and Derby shook their heads. "He died about eight years ago," Charles said. "We read about it in the paper….Just a minute," he said, getting up suddenly, "I'll be right back."

Derby sat quietly in his chair, calling to mind the image of his beloved Gloria. Jennifer moved over to him and held his hand. Moments later, Charles entered the room. He walked over to Derby and handed him the felt pouch.

"I took them from Miss Belleveau's office," Charles said. Derby looked up at his brother and took the pouch in his trembling hands. Tears welled up in his eyes, as he pulled out the letter-opener and the ring.

"Thank you, Charles," was all he could say. Derby took the ring in his hands and closed his eyes.

Jennifer lifted her head suddenly and went to her purse. Carefully, she retrieved a yellowed, folded paper and handed it to Derby. Jennifer tenderly put her arm around his shoulder, as he opened the sonnet and broke down in a flood of emotion..

The morning sun had settled warmly on the crowd that was gathering outside St. Peter's Church, the very place that had hosted the Talbot wedding just two weeks prior. Over three hundred people came this day - some who were personally connected to the Wallingford in some way, and others who had traveled many miles to understand the mystery that had shrouded the community for years. Jennifer's article about the Cromwell murder mystery had created quite a stir and had been picked up by the Associated Press. It seemed that the hotel's name had become a household word overnight. Of course, the press was just as interested in Hart Industries' acquisition of the Wallingford and the impending criminal trial against the former owner, Katherine Belleveau. There was even talk that one of the television networks was interested in making a movie about the events in this sleepy town.

Jennifer sat with Jonathan in the front pew of the chapel as people were streaming in, a feeling of peace sweeping over her. Jonathan reached over and held her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. She glanced at him, catching the meaningful look in his eye and smiled tenderly at him. He felt immensely proud of his wife, knowing her incredible capacity to love and be loved; it showed in everything she did.

Father Mackin stepped up to the altar and bowed his head. The lingering crowd outside the door rushed in to be seated. Photographers and television cameras strained at the entry of the church hoping to catch every word, every gesture. A hush fell over the church as the priest began the service.

"In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, blessed are those who are gathered together on this day to pay their final respects to a woman who walked these very grounds more than a half century ago," the kindly young priest began. "Gloria Cromwell was a friend to this community - she came to love the people of New Hampshire and the land itself. It is in her honor that we begin today's service." Father Mackin then began the traditional Memorial Mass. Halfway through the service, he paused and nodded at Jennifer.

Jennifer stood and walked to the altar. The church grew still, even the occasional cough and ruffling of papers stopped. She smiled graciously at the crowd before her, and looked out at many of the familiar faces that had become part of her life during the past two weeks. Gerard "Derby" Canfield and his brother Charles, dressed in their Sunday Best, sat seated next to their friend of many years, Joe Fernald. In another section sat the Stinsons - George, Carol, and their two young sons. Dr. Joel Pennacook, Marjorie Wallace, and several staff from Memorial Hospital sat in the back.

And, sitting in the back corner, her head bowed, was Sandy Jackson.

Seeing her reminded Jennifer that not everyone gathered at the church that day had a joyous occasion to celebrate. She hoped that Sandy would be able to find some meaning in today's ceremony.

"Today we are here to honor a woman that most of us never knew personally," Jennifer began softly. "And yet, she has touched all of our lives in some way. Gloria Cromwell was an extraordinary woman…

"She came to the White Mountains of New Hampshire to be at peace with nature. She walked through its woods, marveled at its wildlife, and protected it at all costs. Indeed, had it not been for Miss Cromwell, the area we have come to know as Carter's Ridge would be barren now and in its place, a lumbering mill. The pleasure we have in looking out at the mountains to watch the sun set, we owe to her.

"Gloria Cromwell's life was taken from her, but she did not die in vain. We are all a testament to her legacy.

"Gloria Cromwell loved life - and it was truly a divine love. Only a special few knew of her devotion to its finer elements," Jennifer said, smiling at Derby. "One of her favorite pleasures was reading Shakespeare's sonnets, and thanks to the former owner of the Wallingford Hotel, Lowell Cabot had an excerpt from her favorite inscribed on her headstone. I believe that sonnet describes Gloria Cromwell's beauty as a human being."

Jennifer paused and scanned the audience. The crowd was poised, absorbing every word. Some were dabbing their eyes. She began slowly,

Father Mackin stepped forward. "Let us pray."

The End

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