Palmer-Jones 03 - Murder in Paradise (9 page)

“It’s not that. I need your advice.” He hesitated. “It’s about Mary.”

“I don’t understand. I thought that it was all decided. The police accepted that you were an independent witness. They seemed quite satisfied about how she fell, and that no one could have prevented it.”

“That’s just my problem. They
are
quite satisfied. But I’m not.”

He hesitated again. “I don’t believe that her death was an accident. I think that she must have been pushed.”

“You think that she was murdered?” Her voice was incredulous and the word sounded ridiculous.

“Perhaps I should explain why. I saw Mary on Friday morning just after we had landed. She was very excited about the party and she said she had a secret to share with me. At the party she mentioned it again, and I promised to dance with her later. She was enjoying herself and there was something she was keen to tell me. I don’t believe that she would have run away from that.

“Then there was the scarf. Did you notice that she was wearing it all day? Sylvia Drysdale had given it to her and she was very proud of it. But when we found the body she wasn’t wearing it. She fell above the tide line, so it wouldn’t have been washed away. I had a look for it yesterday at the top of Ellie’s Head and around the hall, but I haven’t found it. If it was taken from her either before or after she fell, it means that someone else was implicated in her death.”

He turned to her.

“Did you notice whether she had anything alcoholic to drink at the dance?”

She considered carefully.

“I don’t remember very well,” she said. “I’d had quite a lot to drink myself. But I don’t think that she can have done. We didn’t allow the children to get at the Cup, and they all had orange squash for the toasts.”

“So how did she come to fall? There was a moon on Friday night. I’ve seen her climbing around the cliffs like the other children after gulls’ eggs and she was more surefooted than any of them.”

She was not at all convinced.

“I don’t believe it,” she said. “Those all seem such little things. They can’t mean that someone murdered her. It seems melodramatic, silly.”

“I can’t change facts,” he said quietly. “I have tried to find a different way of explaining them, but I haven’t succeeded yet. There may be another explanation. I came to talk to you to ask if you think I should try to find it.”

“What do you mean?”

“The police are satisfied that Mary died accidentally. Perhaps I should leave it at that.”

“But if you believe that she was murdered, you must do something about it.”

“I’m not sure,” he said. “This is a special place, precarious. If I meddle I might endanger its survival.”

“But it’s not a museum,” she said, repeating the phrase yet again. “I’m not at all sure that you’re right about Mary’s death, but just because someone’s been born on Kinness or is married to someone who was born here, they’re not above the law. Surely the same moral code applies here as anywhere else.”

She knew that she sounded pompous, and realized in a moment of insight that she was trying to convince herself. She had wanted Kinness to be like a museum, dramatically different from anywhere else. That had been the attraction. Now she was here, she had to think again. She did not want to be a church-going, submissive, housewifely museum exhibit. She felt very confused.

“If you believe that Mary was murdered,” she persisted, “you must do something about it.”

“But what? I did try to explain my doubts to the police, but they were as sceptical as you are.”

“What would you do if you were on the mainland?”

“I’d talk to everyone, ask a lot of questions, understand what had happened myself, until I had sufficient evidence to take to the police.”

“You seem used to this sort of thing.”

“Yes. Before I retired I worked for the Home Office. I worked very closely with the police.”

“You must do the same thing thing here,” she said. “Ask your questions. Get to the bottom of it.”

They were both silent for a moment. The sun had nearly disappeared. The island seemed very calm and very beautiful, caught in the orange light.

“Perhaps you’re right,” he said. “I shall have to think it through for myself, be certain in my own mind first. I know that I’ve not convinced you, but if I decide to go ahead, will you help me?”

“I have to, don’t I?” she said. “I can’t give that sort of advice if I’m not prepared to follow it myself.”

“Do you know of anyone who would benefit from Mary’s death?”

“No.”

“I’ve been thinking about opportunity. Who could have left the hall without being noticed? It wouldn’t have taken very long to follow her up to Ellie’s Head, push her off, and run back.”

“To fit in with your facts the murderer must have arranged to meet her there. He or she must have given her a good reason for leaving the party.”

“Yes.”

She shook her head.

“It could have been anyone,” she said. “ Especially in the interval when the band stopped playing. People were coming and going all the time. I came out for a breath of fresh air and no one seemed to notice that I’d gone missing.”

She stopped suddenly.

“I heard footsteps while I was outside,” she said. “Running footsteps.”

“Did you? You don’t know what time that was?”

“No.”

She put her hands in her jacket pockets. “It’s getting cold,” she said. “I’d better go back to Sandwick, find Jim.”

The church bell began to ring for the evening service.

George Palmer-Jones walked with her and stopped at the gate by Sandwick.

“Don’t put yourself in an awkward position with the family,” he said. “There’d have to be a compromise anyway, whoever you married and wherever you lived. This is a special place and I don’t want to spoil it for you.”

“You won’t,” she said. Despite her Sunday-best dress she climbed the gate and ran through the mud to the house. She seemed almost excited.

Sylvia and Jonathan were still in the same positions by the fire. George felt brisk and energetic coming in from the cold, and he had an urge to rouse them from their lethargy. He had told Sarah that he would find out what had happened to the child by asking questions. He could start now.

“Did you have a pleasant walk?” Sylvia asked lazily. She stretched and George thought that she looked like a big, voluptuous chestnut cat.

“Yes thank you.”

“I’ll go and make some tea.”

“No,” he said. “ Not yet if you don’t mind.”

She seemed surprised but curled back into her chair.

“When did you give the green scarf to Mary?”

“On Friday afternoon. School finished early so that the children could go to welcome Jim and Sarah, and she came in immediately afterwards. Jonathan was still in the classroom. She had admired it several times and she wanted something pretty to wear to impress her new sister-in-law. It wasn’t expensive—not real silk—so I gave it to her. Is it important?”

“I think so. I think that her death may not have been an accident.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think that she may have been pushed.” He realized that he had avoided the word “ murdered.”

“Oh George, are you sure? It doesn’t seem very likely. The people here are far too boring to do anything like that.”

She could not take him seriously. She was laughing at him, accusing him of senility, of an obsession with crime. He did not answer her. Jonathan looked up, at last, from his book.

“
Are
you sure, George?” he asked.

“No. But I’m not satisfied that it was an accident.”

He explained why he could not accept the theory that Mary had slipped over the cliff.

“Yes,” Jonathan said. “I see. It does seem strange.”

He continued to give George his full attention. His eyes did not stray back to the book on his knee. George went on:

“Mary was going to tell me a secret. I was wondering what it could be. You know all the Kinness scandal, Sylvia. Has anyone got any deadly secrets?”

“We all have secrets,” she said brightly, “ but I don’t think any of them are deadly. Really, George, aren’t you imagining it all?”

She put aside her book and stood up. “Now,” she said. “I’ll make some tea.” They heard her in the kitchen, and she came in again soon after with a tray. She put it on a small table but did not sit down. She stood where she was in front of the fire. In the firelight she seemed flushed.

“I thought that I might go out on the boat tomorrow,” she said, “and stay on Baltasay for a few days. I could come back on Friday. I need some time away from Kinness. Perhaps I could treat myself, stay in the hotel, do some shopping. I’ve been feeling rather trapped lately.”

She knew that she was saying too much and was abruptly silent. The men watched her. The speech had come as a shock.

“Of course you must go if you feel like that,” Jonathan said gently. “We’ll manage here.”

He turned back to his book. She sat down and began to pour out the tea. The trip to Baltasay was not mentioned again all evening.

The Ruth Isabella always left Kinness early in the morning. In the summer there were so many hours of daylight that if the boat left at three in the morning, it would have been possible to see. In December she was halfway to Baltasay before it was dawn. It made no difference. The boat always left between seven and seven-thirty. The crew were usually at the harbour by six.

Jim had decided to go out with them. He could say goodbye to Will, and he would be an extra crew member on the way home. Sarah woke when he did and heard him moving carefully about the house.

She got up and dressed. In the kitchen he was making sandwiches by candlelight. He was concentrating hard on what he was doing. He was obviously trying not to make any noise which might wake her. She kissed him, touched by his care.

“I would have done that last night,” she said. “I should have realized that you would need something to take with you.”

“It’s no problem.”

“I thought that I’d come down to the harbour with you and see you off. I’d like to see Will again. You don’t mind?”

“Of course not. I won’t go if you don’t want me to. You won’t be lonely?”

“No. I’ll be glad of a day to get sorted out. I can finish unpacking, start thinking about what needs to be done to the house.”

It was true. If he was there she would feel that she should tell him about her conversation with George Palmer-Jones, about her jealousy of Elspeth. A married couple should share things like that. As it was she did not know how to begin to confide in him.

Outside Alec was waiting with the lorry. The air was cold and damp. It was still dark. They climbed into the cab with him. It smelled of diesel and fish.

“Sarah thought that she’d come to see me off,” Jim said. He had to shout over the noise of the engine.

Alec grinned. She was squeezed between the two men.

“That’s all right,” he said. “It’s nice to have some pretty company.” He put his arm around her. She squirmed away from him. Jim sat stiff and disapproving on the other side.

“Maggie always gets up with me on boat days,” Alec said. Perhaps he was trying to prove to her, and to Jim, that he was really harmless, tame. “She has to see to the milking and she says it’s a good time to get the baking done, before the boys are awake.”

She would, Sarah thought.

Just as they were approaching Sandwick the lorry stalled. Alec could not start it again. He swore. Sandy and Will had been waiting outside Sandwick. Will had a large rucksack and his guitar and seemed out of place standing by the road. He could have been any student, hitching a lift back to college.

“It’s no good,” Alec said. “This bloody thing is only fit for the scrapyard. I’ll go back to Buness to get the car. If you want to start walking, I’ll pick you up if I see you.”

Just get me out, Will thought. I’d walk all the way to Baltasay to get away from this place.

They climbed down from the cab and stood in the middle of the road looking at the lorry.

“Someone should go to the post office and tell Kenneth Dance that we’ll be late collecting the mail,” Sandy said, “otherwise he’ll make a fuss. You do that, Will. You can leave your stuff here and Alec will collect it.” He spoke quietly, but he was in charge. His only daughter had died but he would not allow his grief to give Alec an excuse to take control. “Go on down to the harbour, Jim. Start loading up. There are a lot of gas cylinders. I’ll just go in and tell Agnes what’s happening. She can telephone to the post office in Baltasay and tell them we’ll be a bit late.”

“Do you still want to come?” Jim asked Sarah.

“Yes. I can help you load the gas cylinders.”

She knew that he was about to say that they would be too heavy for her or that he could do it alone, but he said nothing. He’s trying very hard, she thought. She took his arm.

In Kell James was making tea. He was always up early. Although Alec could supply milk for the whole island with his cows and his smart new milking parlour, they still kept a cow at Kell for hand milking. Before, Melissa had looked after the animals on the croft, but now he did it all, even the women’s work of milking and egg collecting. He would not have minded if it had made her well. He would have liked to go to watch the boat off. He had been a member of the crew once, but had given it up when Melissa started being so depressed. He had been afraid of leaving her alone all day. He poured tea into a special cup which he kept for her, and took it into the bedroom. He had to light the gas light. Outside there was low cloud over the hill and it was still dark. She woke up when he went in.

“I was having a lovely dream,” she said. He was still thinking abut the boat.

“The
Ruth
will be getting ready to go now. The children are going back to Baltasay to school today.”

Her face clouded with pain, but cleared again.

“If you see them going past say goodbye to them for me,” she said. “ I’ll get up soon and have breakfast ready for you, when you come back.”

She lay back in bed until she heard the front door bang and she knew he was outside.

In the post office Kenneth Dance was angry. If he did not have the mail ready when the lorry stopped outside, Alec Stennet was banging on his door and yelling at him. He had been waiting now for half an hour and there was no sign of the lorry. It would be just like the Stennets to cancel the extra sailing without telling him.