by Anne Perry
“I’ll be back before dark,” he said.
* * *
—
DANIEL HAD A busy afternoon, hurrying to pick up the photographs, which were excellent. He then went to speak to the man who assisted in the few house sales on the island. For a practicing estate agent, with all the legal knowledge, one would have to go to the much larger island of Guernsey. He could only say that there had been a couple of people interested. Miss Thorwood would get an excellent price for the house, if she chose to sell. No, he could not describe the man who had been interested, except that he was at least forty-five years old, maybe fifty. Well spoken, and with no outstanding features he could recall. Yes, he had spoken to Miss Trelawny several times, but she had no wish to sell. She had taken against the man, it seemed, but she would give no reason.
Daniel also reserved three places on the boat back to Folkstone, for mid-afternoon on Sunday. He bought what he thought would be a nice dinner for them, and breakfast for the following day. He tried to remember what Miriam liked, or more specifically, what she did not like, and was annoyed with himself that he had very little idea. Careless of him: he had always been too intent on watching her, or listening to her words and their inflection, to notice her choice of dish.
So he settled for fresh bread, butter, cheese, sliced fresh ham, a small jar of marmalade, and a packet of tea. He added fresh plums. It was too early in the season for apples.
He was walking the mile and a half back to May’s house as the sun dropped toward the horizon and the sky deepened in color. The sunset breeze smelled softly of salt. Gulls were circling high, light catching the gleaming undersides of their wings. He watched the water rippling like silk, an indefinable color, not blue, not green, not gray, nor silver, but infinitely changing as it moved. His gaze shifted closer to the shore, where it was smoother, like satin under the shadow of the headland. There it was almost still, as if it were very deep.
Then something broke the surface. A fish? Very big for this far inshore. Then it was gone again. Perhaps it had only been a momentary change in the wind, a trick of the fading light. But the water was deep where the shadows lay. Deep enough for a big fish, like a huge shark. Did whales ever come into the English Channel? Bit out of their way to the great oceans. A seal? That was possible, even likely.
Or a ship? A submarine. Of course! Never mind smuggling brandy or tobacco, or anything of that sort. What an old-fashioned idea! It belonged to the last century. This was an ideal place for a submarine harbor. In the deep water, they need never be seen at all, except by whomever owned May’s house.
Suddenly everything fell into place. The house was wanted by the navy—not the British Navy, the German! That was why May had had to go.
Daniel quickened his step, striding out down the slope toward the house. If the solution to the murder was that big, he should never have left Miriam alone! He reached the front door and tried to open it. It was locked fast. Of course! He had told her to lock it.
He stepped back and looked up at the windows. He could see nothing through them from the outside. “Miriam!” he shouted. “Miriam!”
An upstairs window opened and she looked out. From the red of the sunset, her hair gleamed like fire. “Daniel! Are you all right?” She sounded alarmed.
“Yes, let me in! I know what it’s all about! Open the door!”
She disappeared from the window, and several moments later he heard the bolt slide on the front door and it swung open.
He stepped inside quickly and then closed it. “So, you did lock it!” he observed.
She ignored his remark. “Tell me!” she demanded.
He put the shopping down on the hall table. “Deep water!”
She was mystified. “What?”
He pointed in the general direction of the sea. “Deep water. Under the shadow of the headland. For submarines.”
Understanding filled her face. She breathed out slowly. “Germans!”
“Yes. I’ll bet it was them who wanted to buy this house. It has the only view of this bay. The rest is rocky, and you’d have a terrible job building on it. And anyway, since this house has the perfect view, you couldn’t do anything in secret.”
“Yes. I see! I see! And May wouldn’t sell. I wonder if she had any idea.” Then she dismissed it with a gesture. “Doesn’t matter why she wouldn’t sell…she wouldn’t. So, they got rid of her. But—”
“I know,” he said quickly. “Why frame Philip Sidney for assault, and then for embezzlement? Are they going to try to tack murder on it as well?”
“What a vile thought. We’ve got to stop them. Who is ‘them’ anyway?”
“That is the big question, and we’ve got till tomorrow, midday, to find the answer. And, I suppose the voyage back.”
“And tomorrow evening,” she added. “Although, if we haven’t got a pretty good idea by then, it’s a bit late.” She picked up the shopping and carried it through to the kitchen.
“I’ve got the photographs,” he told her, following behind. “I debated whether to ask Mullane to write a statement, in case he didn’t actually come.”
Miriam put the shopping down on the kitchen table and looked at him very gravely. “And did you?”
“No. I thought he might be offended and change his mind. And to have him on the stand, where he can be cross-questioned, would be far stronger than a piece of paper, no matter who it is signed by. Do you think I was wrong?”
“No. No, I don’t. Let’s make dinner and consider all the possibilities.”
He was startled, until he saw she was smiling. “Oh, yes, you make it. I’ll watch and tell you if you’re doing anything wrong,” he agreed.
She threw the dish towel at him.
After they had eaten, they washed up the dishes together, Daniel doing his full share this time. Then the discussion could no longer be deferred.
“Look at the lies,” he said gravely. “They’re always more revealing than the truth.”
“Then let’s take the truth we’re sure of, and see what’s left,” she responded. “Tobias Thorwood said he saw—”
“No,” he interrupted. “Didn’t I tell you? Sorry. He lied, to defend his wife, heaven knows why. It was her who said she saw Sidney coming out of Rebecca’s room. And if she is telling the truth, then Sidney was lying about being there.”
“And if he is telling the truth, then she is lying. Why?”
“To cover for who it really was. Or to get Sidney in very deep trouble.”
“Except that the embassy got him away,” Miriam pointed out. “Could she know what they wanted?”
“No idea. Possibly. But why not simply say she had no idea who it was? A stranger she wouldn’t know if she saw him again?”
“So, she wanted to get Sidney into trouble. Or Tobias did. We are back to why.” She frowned. “What threat was Sidney to them?”
“He said he liked Rebecca, but he wasn’t courting her. She wouldn’t marry anyone against their wishes—anyone. The insistence on following him to England, and raking up the embezzlement charge, suggests they aren’t satisfied with ruining his reputation in America. They want more.”
“It seems like that,” she agreed.
“What is it he knows that he doesn’t realize? What comes up if we put together all the pieces? At last we have the center of it. If whoever is guilty is British, then it’s murder and treason.”
She shivered, looking at him with shadowed eyes. “Yes. And what is anyone’s life, compared with that? And the heart of it is here,” she whispered.
“We are going to sleep in the attic tonight. No arguments. And pile a couple of old kitchen chairs on the steps, so if anyone comes, we’ll have plenty of warning.”
She did not argue.
* * *
—
“CHURCH! I FORGOT to buy a hat!” Miriam said with
chagrin.
“Does it matter?” Daniel asked. “I mean—”
“I know what you mean,” she cut him off. “Yes, it does. It’s disrespectful to turn up at someone else’s church service without a hat! That’s spiking my guns before I start!”
Part of him did understand what she meant, but her word picture was too much, and he found himself laughing.
A flush of temper rose up her cheeks, until she saw it, too, and smiled reluctantly. “You know what I mean!”
“Yes, I do. Can’t you borrow one of May’s? All her clothes are still here…” He stopped, realizing that that was tactless in the extreme. Sixty-year-old May’s hats would hardly be what Miriam would be seen in. She might think he saw her as a woman so much older. Now it was his turn to blush, painfully. How could he have been so clumsy? He feared anything he might say now would only make it worse.
She swung round and stalked out of the room, and he heard her feet on the stairs.
He waited, uncertain what to do, feeling miserable out of all proportion to the situation. He had suggested a solution that was tactless, insulting her in a way peculiarly painful to her, which he would have known had he given it a moment’s thought.
The minutes ticked by. Should he go upstairs after her? Would she take his staying in the sitting room as tact, or indifference? Or stupidity, not even understanding what he had done?
He heard her footsteps across the hall. He was so tense his neck ached.
She opened the door and came into the room. She was wearing one of May’s hats. It was made of straw, probably a gardening hat, totally plain, except that Miriam had put a silk scarf around it, very loosely around the brim and up to the crown. She had managed to tie it in a loose knot so that it flowed to one side. It was a deep rose pink, and against her red hair was startling, and perfectly lovely.
“I’ll…I’ll get you a rose from the garden to put on it,” he said. “Have you got some sort of pin to hold it? It will be the best hat in the place!”
“I’ll find one,” she replied. “I saw a hatpin on May’s dressing table.” She turned and left the room again.
Daniel, overwhelmed with relief, went into the garden and picked the rose he’d had in mind when he spoke. It was a deep apricot color tipped with a blush of red.
He came back with the flower, trimmed the end of it, and removed the thorns. Then he took the hat from her and placed the rose to one side of the brim, on top of the scarf, and pinned it securely.
She placed the hat on her head, tilted a little.
He did not need to pretend his admiration. “If you ever get tired of being a pathologist, you could always become a milliner,” he said.
The pleasure in her face told him that she took that in exactly the spirit he had intended.
“Thank you. I shall consider it.”
The towers of the church were easily visible above the rooftops of the surrounding houses, and they walked the mile and a half in the sun, discussing what sort of information they might seek from those in the congregation with whom they were able to talk. They decided to tell a slightly lopsided version of the truth as to who they were, why they had come to the island, but only if they were asked. What their relationship was, or where they were staying, they would leave to speculation. The truth would be too unlikely to be accepted, or perhaps to be understood, considering that they were both staying in May’s house, without servants or anyone else. Only the seriousness of their reason for coming at all would justify that. And without even discussing it, they knew it should not be revealed. That would jeopardize the whole purpose of their mission. It was an ugly thought that somewhere, in this tiny, close-knit community, there might be one person at least who had had a part in May’s death, and perhaps, unwittingly, taken a path toward treason.
Miriam had brought a small bunch of flowers from the garden to put on May’s grave. Apart from it being an easily understood action to explain their visit, it was something she wished to do. “I think I would have liked her,” she said simply. “So would you.”
Daniel agreed with a smile. No words were needed.
The graveyard surrounded the church, as was common. They did not need to look to find the newest grave. The headstone was already carved and placed. Perhaps with a population so small, the stonemason did not have much call for such an art.
Miriam was just straightening from laying the flowers when a small boy of ten or eleven spoke from behind her.
“Why are you putting flowers for her? You knew her? You’re not from around here.”
Miriam turned slowly to face him. “Do you mind my laying flowers for her?” she asked curiously.
It was not what Daniel would have said, but it was a better opening to asking questions. He realized it as soon as the words were out, and he saw the boy’s face.
“I s’pose not. As long as they’re nice ones.”
“They’re the best I have,” Miriam replied. “Isn’t that good enough? But even if I’d picked wild ones, wouldn’t they do, if I put them there to remember her?”
The boy thought for a moment. “You’re not from here, but you’re all right! She liked wildflowers anyway. Did you know that?”
“Yes. Are you going to put wildflowers on there for her, every so often?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I think I will. You going to?”
“No. I have to go back to London later today. But I’d like to think you would. You liked her?”
“Yeah. She used to let us take apples from her trees. Just as many as we could eat, now and again. We pretended we were scrumping them—you know, pinching?”
“Yes, I know.”
“But it was a game. And we’d pick wild blackberries up the hill and leave them there on her doorstep. She knew it was us, but she pretended she didn’t.”
“Sounds like a good game to me,” Miriam said with a smile.
The boy was silent for a few moments. He smiled, but there were tears in his eyes he did not want to admit.
Miriam waited, as if she sensed he had something more to say.
It was hot in the sun. Sounds of conversation drifted across from the church entrance, where people were gathering.
“Rosie weren’t sick,” the boy said. “Miss May knew horses. If Rosie’d been sick, she’d’ve had my dad to see her.”
“She didn’t?” Miriam asked. “Your father is a vet?”
“Yes. He’s real upset ’cause he knows her—Rosie, I mean. And, how’d Miss May know Rosie were sick in the night, unless she was sick the day before? You don’t get up in the night, out of your bed, to go look just in case! Miss May must’ve gone to check on her before it got dark, like she usually did. Rosie’s a good horse!”
“Well, Dr. Mullane is looking after her now.”
“I know that. He’s going to keep her. But Miss May is still dead!”
“She is,” Miriam agreed. “And I’m very sorry.”
The boy sniffed hard. “ ’S’all right,” he said. “You left the flowers. And I’ll put some another day. Wild ones.”
“But no one would mind if you took a few from her garden as well,” Miriam answered him.
“You think?”
“Yes,” Miriam said decisively. “I’m quite sure.” She turned back to Daniel. “We should go, or we’ll be late.”
The three of them walked together toward the church entrance and joined the people going inside.
“So, it wasn’t the middle of the night,” Daniel said quietly, when they had found seats near the back of the congregation. “It was round about dusk. Did it happen in the stable or not? Did she go for a ride to meet someone?”
“You mean intending to? Why? Her house was private enough, she could have met half a dozen people there, and no one would ever have known.”
“No,” he said slowly. “In fact, half a dozen people cou
ld have walked out from St. Anne and visited her, or come by small boat and landed in the cove without even going through St. Anne!”
Miriam turned to stare at him, her eyes wide. “So, you’re saying that anyone could come to May’s house unseen, because her cove is only visible from her house. I wonder if it’s the only one on the island quite so private, with access to deep water? We should take a look after this, and see if there’s another house so isolated, and if anyone is making an effort to buy that.”
“If there is, there would have been no need to kill May…but we can ask,” he said.
“There will be no estate agents open today. It’s Sunday…”
“That’s why we’re in church. Everybody who’s anyone will be here. Small communities are like that. You said so yourself.” He smiled at her. “They’ll know everything.”
She opened her hymnbook and appeared to pay attention as the service began.
* * *
—
AFTERWARD, THEY INTRODUCED themselves as two friends of May Trelawny who had come to pay their respects to her, and had run into each other on the ferry. They made polite conversation, admired the island, the town, the weather, and asked, quite incidentally, if there were any other houses in isolated coves, and with such lovely views of the sea. There were plenty of houses with views, but no, none in so solitary a place.
As they walked away, Miriam concluded, “That’s the reason.”
Daniel linked his arm in hers, and they walked back to May’s house and its garden facing the sea. He felt exactly the same.
* * *
—
IN THE AFTERNOON, they ate lunch and then cleared away any trace of having been in May’s house. Daniel left with a sharp pang of regret. He turned at the gate and looked back at the house sitting in the clear sunlight. Its garden was bright with unkempt flowers blazing with color. Its climbing roses festooning a few gently crumbling walls with softness, yellows and pinks echoing the colors of the stone, deepening it. Beyond, the sea was a fathomless blue, all the way to the horizon.
