No, the stakes are too high. I must stay.
His throat dry again, he cast a regretful look at the remains of the glass scattered among the grass and plants. He needed a drink, more than ever.
* * *
Howard marched away, blind to the beauty of the morning garden around him. His hands shook with anger at Hugh’s response. The man was a weakling, afraid of his own shadow and still he refused to acknowledge the danger of staying here and playing games with a man who was more adept at games than any other person Howard had ever met or even heard of. Malcolm had some deep, dark plan with all of this and Howard didn’t intend to wait and find out what it was. Find out from the inside of a police cell? No. He’d run before that. Coward or not.
He pushed his hands into the pockets of his jacket. His right hand hit on his cigar case. He clenched it, then pulled it out, desperate for the relief of smoking. He had left the case in the sitting room last night, forgotten on a side table, and had only recovered it this morning before walking out to find Hugh with a glass of liquor like a peace offering in his hand.
He laughed to himself. Blind fool he had been, thinking Hugh could be played, persuaded. Like the others he was completely caught under the lure of the money promised to them.
The sun reflected on the silver cigar case in his hands. He halted to click it open. He looked inside.
He blinked. For a moment he was certain it was just a trick of the light. Then he blinked again, his heart nervously skipping a beat.
It was no trick of the light. It was there in the case. Among his cigars. A small glass vial as thin as a cigarette with a little stopper in it. The liquid inside sparkled in the sunshine.
If a scorpion had uncurled inside his cigar case, Howard wouldn’t have been more appalled. Minutes ago, he had suggested to Hugh they could plant some incriminating evidence on Theodora. A medicine bottle, he had said. And now here it was. A vial such as you read about in crime stories, containing a poison. Colourless. Odourless as well, probably.
Undetectable when poured into someone’s coffee or tea or wine. Slow working? Fast acting? He had no idea. But he knew, without a doubt, that it was poison. Put there by someone last night when his case had been lying in the sitting room. Like a silent hint. An open invitation. Come on, use it. On whomever you want. It need not be Malcolm. There are enough people here whom you loathe.
And who knows? If you use it on the right person on the right day, you might end up with a fortune.
Howard shivered under the strain of the thoughts racing through his head, just because he had found a vial with liquid in his cigar case. For all he knew, it could be water. It could have been put there by someone who wanted to play a prank on him.
But combined with Malcolm’s will game, a prank like this could be dangerous. Lethal even. The vial was only half full. What if it was poison and the other half had already been used?
Howard’s mouth was desert dry. He could just see Malcolm lying in his bed right now, cold and dead, with blue lips or froth around his mouth, indicating he had been poisoned. And what would happen then? A police search of all persons and property. Of his cigar case and its contents.
Calm down, he told himself. Malcolm needn’t be dead.
But if he wasn’t now, he could be later today. Perhaps whoever had put the vial in his cigar case hadn’t thought he would discover it so soon. Perhaps the murder still had to occur? Over breakfast?
Howard tried to control the panic washing over him like a tidal wave. He turned and hurried back through the garden to the point where he could look down on the sea. He would toss the vial into the sea. Nobody would ever find it again.
But was it wise to touch it?
He could just see the hand who had slipped it among his cigars last night when the case had been on the table in the sitting room, unattended. That hand had no doubt been gloved. That person had left no fingerprints on the vial. If Howard now put his on it, how dumb would that be? Suppose the vial didn’t fall into the sea? Suppose that it, for some reason, fell into sand or brush and it would be recovered?
Could he not better take it into the house and pour the contents down the drain? To know for sure it was gone? But then, what to do with the vial?
Did he have to take the boat out and drop the vial into the sea far away from land?
He halted on the edge and looked down the steps leading to the place where Malcolm’s boat was docked. It wasn’t there. Kenneth must have taken it out.
Howard took a deep breath. All of his helpless anger at the discovery of the vial directed itself at his son now, who had taken away his chance to get rid of the vial at once. He had told Kenneth not to go boating. Still he had done it.
Howard breathed heavily as he stood and considered his options. Did he dare hold on to the vial until he could drop it discreetly? What if Malcolm died in the next half hour? What if the police pulled in with blaring sirens and searched everyone and found the vial on his person? Whatever was in it, Howard bet it would be the exact same substance that had ended Malcolm’s life. And if the will was then opened and his name stood on the dotted line…
Malcolm, Malcolm, what a clever revenge. Putting the vial in my cigar case, then ending your own life and letting me take the blame…
But I am not playing.
I am not playing!
In his head he shouted it aloud, until it echoed off the cliffs below. He used his handkerchief to take the vial out of the cigar case and then tossed it away, as widely as he could. He stared desperately at the sparkle of it as it tumbled in the air, trying to determine if it would drop into the safe depths of the immeasurable waters. It was gone already and he had no idea how far it had gone. He didn’t know if he was safe.
If he would ever feel safe again.
He turned his head and looked at the villa, holding his breath. Was there movement at a window? Had someone been watching him? Did any of the guests know anything?
Had it not been Malcolm, but somebody else? What for?
Howard wiped his face with both hands as he tried to calm his thundering heartbeat. He looked at the water again, as if trying to gain courage from the calm waves rolling to the shore.
But… what was that?
He tilted his head.
A boat? Turned upside down?
A sickening sensation raced through his entire body. He ran down the steps calling one name, over and over again.
“Kenneth! Kenneth!”
Chapter Six
Hugh had retreated into the tea chapel and sat on one of the benches along the wall. The shadows inside calmed his aching head and slowly he began to convince himself that Howard hadn’t meant to harm him at all, but had just given the silly advice that a man of his age and position was wont to give. Howard worked with figures and he was always calculating risks. He had calculated during his long night awake that the risk here was too great to take and he wanted out. He had regretted though that getting out also meant forgoing the promised prize and therefore he had decided to take along as many people as he could so nobody would get anything.
His remarks about blaming it all on Theodora had been inspired by his intense dislike of the dry and proper woman, something no one could really blame Howard for. He had probably imagined Theodora dead before and now his dream came close to fulfilment. Perhaps they were all a little different from their usual selves here. It was the heat. It got into your brain and slowly cooked it.
A sound at the entrance, and Hugh lifted his heavy eyelids to see what it was.
Yes, his brain was positively cooked as he saw a vision there.
A woman in white, her clothes drenched and clinging to her shapely body, her hair wild and wide around her head, her eyes staring at him, begging him for help. Her arms outreached to him, pale, but full of dark lines. Her voice, shivering, speaking to him, “Please hide me, help me.”
Was this a mermaid, like the ancients had written about, risen from the waves to come and lure him into her underwater k
ingdom? But she had legs and feet and…
She stumbled towards him, apparently near fainting, and Hugh rose and reached out to catch her into his arms. Her head fell onto his shoulder, her wet hair stuck to his cheek and what he felt in his grasp was not immaterial and dreamlike but very real. The water from her clothes seeped into his own and soon they were both standing in a puddle as he clutched her and tried to make sense of what she was saying. Something she kept repeating.
That someone had tried to kill her?
Hugh patted the wet back of the trembling creature in his arms and said he’d help her, even though he wasn’t sure how or with what. He couldn’t quite believe how the drinking of one single glass of whiskey could have this effect on his brain unless Howard had put something in it.
Hugh blinked and bit on the inside of his cheek. It hurt so this all had to be real.
Her arms clutched his neck desperately, and he pulled her backwards, towards the bench he had risen from. He sat down and held her against him as she sagged beside him, struggling to breathe evenly. She wore no shoes and there were scratches on her bare feet and legs. He felt something sticky against the skin of his neck and realized her arms were probably scratched as well and bleeding.
“What happened, Anna?” he asked, surprised that he could suddenly fit a name to this mysterious creature which had appeared in his hiding place.
She raised her head and stared at him with wide eyes. She suddenly seemed to realize what she was doing and pulled away from him, her cheeks flushing red. She wrapped her arms around her shoulders and hung her head. “I’m sorry. I was upset.”
“Upset?” Hugh echoed. “You look like someone chased you. You have scratches all over. And why are your clothes drenched?”
“I can’t speak about this.” Anna shivered violently. “With you or anyone else. No one will believe me.”
“Of course I will believe you.” Hugh sat up. “Your looks can’t lie. You’re soaked to the skin and bleeding. Something happened; you didn’t make that up.”
Anna gave him a weak smile. “It was just a stupid accident. The boat turned over.”
“The boat? You were out on a boat?”
“Kenneth had asked me to go boating. He acted like he knew how. But the sea was rough and…” She stared ahead with white lips. “I’m sure it was an accident. Yes, it must have been.”
“Tell me what happened exactly,” Hugh said, arresting her hands.
She looked into his eyes.
He held her gaze and pressed, “I want to hear every word of it. What Kenneth said to you, what he did.”
“He had already invited me yesterday when he had just arrived. I liked him. He didn’t seem presumptuous like the others. Just a boy. He asked me again this morning. I was reluctant as I thought Mr Bryce-Rutherford could miss me but he solved it all. He made Theodora stay with him and then I was free to go. I looked forward to it.”
Her features contorted, and she sobbed. She pressed her hands with his still around them to her face. He felt the softness of her lips and cheeks.
Anna whispered against his hands, “He took me out in the boat that was docked at the foot of the steps. He rowed. He was good at it. I felt safe. We spent some time rowing along the coast. The beaches were empty. I told him a few things about my life. What I did before I got here. Then all of a sudden he asked me how I felt about him. He reached out for me and…”
Anna swallowed hard. “To get away from him I stood up. It must have rocked the boat. It was my fault.”
“You fell in?” Hugh asked. “And you had to swim to the shore? He did nothing to help you?”
“He fell in himself. He grabbed me. I tried to get away from him but... he held me under water.”
“What?” Hugh said.
Anna froze. She pulled her hands free and glared at him. “See, you don’t believe me. I won’t tell you anymore.” She wanted to rise but she staggered and fell back to the bench.
Hugh grabbed her hands again. “You’re too weak to walk back to the house. Besides, someone would see you and ask questions. You have to stay here. I’ll go to the house and get you dry clothes and something for the scratches. But first you tell me everything that happened. Kenneth held you under water?”
“Well, I think he did.” Anna struggled to breathe evenly. “He might have tried to grab me by the shoulders to pull me to the shore or something. I don’t know. I was just scared because I was suddenly in the water and I kicked out at him. He tried to grab me again. I got away from him and I swam to the shore. I didn’t care where I would get out of the water as long as I was away from him. I scrambled across rocks. I cut myself.” She suppressed another sob.
Hugh wrapped his arms round her and pressed her to him. “Poor girl. Take a deep breath. Things are all right now. I’ll help you. I don’t understand why Kenneth did that. He must have thought he was saving you or something. Silly boy.”
Anna snuggled against him, pushing her face into the hollow between his shoulder and his neck. How long ago was it that Patty had done that? She was never tender to him anymore.
Hugh said, “We must be careful what we say about this. I know Howard. He’s fiercely protective of Kenneth. Doesn’t want to hear a bad word about him. If you as much as suggest the accident was his doing, Howard will have you dismissed in a heartbeat.”
“I know. I was desperate when I ran for the villa. I knew I had to hide and I came here to… I had no idea you would be here.”
Hugh said, “Howard and I are not exactly friends.” Especially not after this morning’s little act about getting me to leave the villa and the fortune at stake. “I don’t mind lying to him.”
“But…” Anna lifted her head and looked at him. “What will Kenneth say? He must have come ashore somewhere. He’ll be on his way over here. What if he says I rocked the boat on purpose?”
“He won’t. He probably thought you fell in and were afraid. He tried to save you. There’s nothing to it. I did pretty stupid things when I was his age.” Hugh cringed at the memories that flashed through his mind. “We can’t blame him. But whatever he will tell his parents, we’ll make sure you don’t have to leave.”
He ran his fingers through her tangled wet hair, carefully undoing the knots. “I won’t let any harm come to you.”
Anna sighed and pushed herself closer to him.
Hugh smiled to himself. Her nearness was pleasant enough but the real perk of the situation was something far different. Howard had but one weak spot. His son. And Hugh now knew something that he could use against Howard. Against Cecily too. Yes, if he played this right, he could also drive a wedge between them.
If he played this right…
* * *
Jasper heard his dog bark madly in the distance. The retriever had an uncanny ability to hit on dead animals on the beach and if he didn’t get to him quickly, the dog would either eat from them or roll around in the remains, changing Jasper’s daily routine from a cup of coffee at Marcel’s to a fight at the bath tub with Red.
He whistled to pull the dog to him even though he knew that once the dog had a find, he didn’t let go. Jasper had been the same in his years at Scotland Yard. Dig into something, hold on until it’s solved. Weeks, months, in some cases years. But he had always solved it in the end. His perfect track record had made it even harder for his superiors when he had retired early. But despite enjoying the thrill of the chase, Jasper had to acknowledge he had been losing speed. And he didn’t want to become an old hound at the back of the pack. If he couldn’t be the leader anymore, he would rather leave all together.
He had found the perfect spot to lead a quiet life, the yellow villa on the hill, close enough to the beach for walks, far enough away from it to avoid the tourists, especially those from his native country who wanted to discuss the weather and politics. He was glad to be away from all of that.
Red stood leaning over something, pushing it with his snout. It was too large to be a dead animal. It was dark, even darker
from being wet. But it was clearly cloth.
Jasper broke into a run towards what seemed a washed-up corpse. He mentally prepared himself for the stench of it and the gruesome moments when he had to look at what had once been a face.
But as he drew closer, he noticed that the dog was nuzzling a pristine cheek and that the figure even seemed to be moving.
Or was that just a counter movement as the dog kept pushing at the weight?
He was there and fell to his knees. He touched a shoulder, a neck, felt warm skin and a heartbeat. This was not a dead body but still washed-up. The boy had to be seventeen. Fully dressed, so fallen out of a boat perhaps?
Or pushed out by some friends who wanted to play a prank on him?
As a detective Jasper had often seen the result of pranks, in broken limbs and even broken necks, and he clicked his tongue to himself and counted this one lucky.
Red kept licking the boy’s face and he started to make protesting sounds. Jasper pulled the dog away and told him to sit.
Red looked hurt, but obeyed. He kept his eyes on the boy as he turned over and lay on his back staring up at the skies with wide eyes.
“How are you feeling?” Jasper asked in French.
The boy didn’t respond.
“Are you feeling pain anywhere? Are you hurt?” As he said it, Jasper reached out to feel his arms and legs, but the boy turned away from him, pulling up his arms and legs as if he was afraid of being hit. “Don’t touch me,” he croaked in English.
The use of his native language hit Jasper like a punch in the gut. Not a local boy, but one on holiday here. That only heightened his interest in what had happened.
Jasper narrowed his eyes. “Has someone hurt you? Have you been forced into the water? A fight? Some sort of wager perhaps?”
The boy didn’t speak again. He just lay shivering.
Jasper collected his thoughts. He didn’t seem badly hurt as he was able to move. He also didn’t cough so it didn’t seem like he had inhaled a lot of seawater. Mostly it seemed as if he was in a shock of some kind.
A Testament to Murder Page 7
