Jasper sat on the sand beside the boy looking out across the sea. Red tilted his head, then decided there was nothing left to do here and ran to the flood line to sniff around at what the sea was bringing in.
Jasper extracted his hand from the pocket of his jacket and studied the bits and bobs he had picked up on his walk. Two inches of twisted rope, hardened by the salty seawater it had been immersed in. A pottery shard in delicate blue and white. An empty matchbox with the name of the manufacturer half worn away by wear. A few letters still visible like a tantalizing clue.
Collecting things came naturally to him, even if he didn’t know yet what he was going to do with them. It was like collecting information: you never knew in advance what bit of it might prove to be vital later on.
Jasper smiled to himself. He had no idea how long he’d have to wait to get the boy to talk to him. But he was a patient man.
Most of all, he didn’t like secrets.
And this boy’s secret was one he ached to know a lot more about.
* * *
Hugh had followed Anna’s instructions to get her clothes and her own medical aid bag from her room. He had taken care not to be seen by anybody. He felt rather important, like a man on a mission, and once he was back with Anna, he had expected her to be grateful.
Instead she had shooed him out of the structure so she could change.
“Stay out of sight, make sure nobody comes out here,” she had admonished him, so instead of walking on the lawn, he had removed himself to stand behind the thick tree that threw shade over the folly. After a while he had gone back and found her dabbing at the wounds on her arms and legs with cotton drenched in something chemically smelling. Her eyes were full of tears and he just couldn’t bear to see her in such pain. “Let me do it,” he offered, “that’s better.”
She let him take the cotton from her hand and leaned back, closing her eyes against the tears.
Hugh cleaned her wounds, admiring her graceful ankles and wrists which wouldn’t look amiss on one of his statues. If he had married her, instead of a more voluptuous type like Patty, she could have been his muse.
He had no idea where Patty was, but for a moment he indulged in the fantasy she might be driving the Triumph down the hill, losing control and flying over the edge into an abyss. She’d be dead upon impact, a merciful death that she wouldn’t even see coming. And then he’d be free again, free to make a better choice than he had done before.
“You’re really too kind,” Anna said.
Hugh clenched his teeth. Kind was not the word he’d bestow upon himself. He threw away the dirty cotton and said, “This should do.”
Her bag was open on the floor and he saw all kinds of bottles inside of it, instruments that reminded him of too many doctors hovering around his bed when he was growing up with a mother who always believed he had contracted something lethal. The mere idea of a syringe was enough to make him faint. He wiped his forehead and rose to his feet. “You have to wear something to cover your arms and legs so these scratches are hidden. Or you need a story how you got them.”
“I’ll make something up. I’m just worried about Kenneth. Was he not at the house when you collected my things?”
“I haven’t seen or heard him. If he came in screaming ruddy fire, there would have been some kind of turmoil, I suppose.”
Anna swallowed hard. “What if he’s dead? I swam away. I didn’t look back to check how he was doing. What if he died and they’ll blame me?”
“Of course not,” Hugh said, although the mere thought turned the blood in his veins to ice. Not Kenneth dead while it should have been Malcolm. “Last night Howard boasted that Kenneth was so good with boats, he’d even won some kind of rowing prize.”
“The sea is rough here and the undercurrent can be treacherous.” Anna pushed a hand to her forehead. “I’m afraid.”
“Well, even if he did die, which I’m sure he did not, then no one would blame you. It was an accident.”
Hugh folded his hands on his back. “After all, why would you want to hurt Kenneth?”
Anna didn’t reply. If she had simply said she had no reason to hurt him, Hugh would not have given it a second thought. But as she just sat there and stared at her hands, her seemingly tender and breakable hands, Hugh became uneasy. He tapped his fingers together and said hesitantly, “I uh… should have brought you a drink. You’re in shock.”
Anna shook her head. “I’m fine. And I can’t drink on duty.”
She lifted her eyes and looked at him. “Did you know your wife left your bedroom last night? Just after twelve?”
Hugh stood pinned to the floor. “My wife?” he repeated as if he didn’t recall ever having married.
“I saw her. I wanted to check on my patient after he had gone back to bed. He had changed the will and was terribly excited about it, so I was afraid he would have some kind of… collapse. I saw your wife going to the study. She went inside.”
Hugh wet his lips. His mind raced to make sense of this. Patty in the study?
“Then Mr Koning went in as well,” Anna said. “They stayed inside together for a long time.”
Hugh stared at her. “You’re lying,” he said in a strangled voice he barely recognized as his own. “She doesn’t even know this man. Why would she spend any time with him?”
“I don’t know. I only tell you what I saw. You can decide what you want to do about it.” Anna hung her head again. There was gooseflesh on her arms.
Hugh hurried to say, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that quite the way it sounded. I’m just sure Patty doesn’t know this legal prig at all.”
“How can you be sure? Maybe she met him some place before she came here with you.”
“No, that can’t be. We’ve been together since New York. I met her on a steamer, you know. The SS Sunrise. We fell in love and married right when we arrived in England, at my parents’ place in Cornwall.”
“And she was never out of your sight? On the steamer? In Cornwall? She never went for a walk, or to buy things, or to see a friend?”
Hugh wanted to deny it, but of course Patty had left when on the estate, to see the land, to explore the nearby village. They had been together most of the time but not all of the time. And who could assure him she had not known Koning before that?
Before they had even met on the SS Sunrise?
Hugh’s world tilted on its axle for a moment, then dropped back into place. He was letting his mind run away with him. A big disadvantage of his fertile imagination, the gift that made him such a brilliant writer, was that he could easily believe things. Made them bigger and more fanciful in his mind. Here he was imagining an entire plot that would have begun before he had even met Patty, of her knowing Koning and…
Yes, and what?
He shook his head as if to dispel the disturbing notions from his mind.
Anna said, “I’m just so grateful you helped me, that I wanted to do something for you too. You should know what your wife is doing. I don’t trust her.”
“I trust her implicitly,” Hugh stated grandly and regretted it the moment it was out.
Anna looked disturbed and sad, rising to her feet and grabbing her bag. She folded her wet clothes into a bundle hiding them in the bag and then left the folly without saying another word.
Hugh came after her saying, “I didn’t mean it that way. That is, of course I trust Patty, but that doesn’t mean that…”
Anna walked away from him, her head held high.
Great work, man, Hugh told himself. Just great work.
* * *
Howard couldn’t remember exactly what he had done or what route he had taken looking for Kenneth. He just knew that his mind was repeating a message that tolled like a death bell in his head: you knew you should not have come here, you came anyway and now Kenneth is dead. He is dead. Drowned. Dead. Drowned.
He walked across the beach, fighting wet sand and rocks. He looked for traces of someone having come to land keeping his ey
es on the boat that bobbed upside down on the waves. He knew he was doing all the wrong things, that he should have called for help perhaps from other boats or locals who knew the waters, but he couldn’t stop doing what he did, looking for his son.
At last he saw another living creature on the beach beside the gulls that cried overhead and swooped down every now and then to taunt him. It was a dog. It frolicked where the waves touched the sand.
Then Howard also saw the man sitting on the sand, and the form beside him. Something lying there quite still.
“No,” he cried, “no!!”
He started to run drawing on energy resources he had never known he had. He reached the man and, ignoring him, fell to his knees in the sand.
“Kenneth, Kenneth, my boy…”
He grabbed the body, feeling warmth underneath the wet clothes. He pulled him up and into his arms. He held him until he became aware of Kenneth struggling and saying, “Don’t be so weird.”
Then he let go of him and barked, “Do you have any idea how worried we’ve been about you?” He used the plural to deflect attention from his own tattered state of mind. “You just disappeared… we saw the boat and…”
Kenneth sagged against him, clutching at him. “I did nothing wrong,” he whispered.
Howard froze, the initial relief over having recovered his son leaving him like air rushing from a popped balloon. In a flash he was back in Provence on a warm spring night finding Kenneth in the fields, coming for him with wide eyes saying he did nothing wrong. The look in his eyes, the blank sort of stare, the tone of those words, repeated over and over again.
Howard shivered despite the warmth of the sun on the beach. Not again, please not again.
Kenneth hadn’t been able to remember what had happened. The fight with a village boy over Marie. The bruises he had given him and how viciously he had twisted his arm.
Cecily had said Kenneth had simply been lying to escape punishment, but Howard had believed him. He had believed the boy had blocked out the memory of his own violence.
It was somehow familiar.
Now that Kenneth hovered against him whispering those same words, Howard wondered with a deep chill what had happened that Kenneth didn’t want to tell him.
And how much the stranger sitting beside him knew about that. Was he a witness? Had he stayed with Kenneth so he could accuse him later on?
Forcing himself to take charge of the situation, Howard made eye contact with the stranger. “I’m Howard Jones. My family is vacationing here. At the Villa Calypso.”
“Really? Then we are almost neighbours. I live in the Villa Hydrangea down the road.” The stranger smiled at him. “Jasper.”
Howard had no idea whether this was the man’s first name or last, but now that he knew it was a next-door neighbour, he was even more eager to get away from him. “Kenneth is soaking wet. I better take him back so he can change.”
“I’ll walk with you.” The man rose and called for his dog. The retriever came running towards them, stopping a moment to shake seawater out of his fur.
Kenneth let go of his father and met the dog halfway. The two of them started playing.
Jasper said, “I think your son has been the victim of a prank of some kind. He looked positively traumatized when I found him. Boys often do that to each other, you know. They push each other off boats.”
Off boats… Kenneth had wanted to go boating. Alone? Or with someone? But who did he know here?
Jasper continued, “I suppose he won’t be talkative about it. Humiliation is something none of us like to share. But I would urge you to find out more about it. I’ve seen too much during my days in London to take pranks lightly.”
“I see. Are you a doctor perhaps?”
“No, I was with the police.”
Police, Howard thought with a shock, not even a murder and already police on the scene.
Jasper walked beside him with his hands folded behind his back. “Your son is probably not going through anything we’ve not all gone through at some point. Growing up can be a pretty lonely and unpleasant affair at times. But I do think you can do something to help him. Don’t force him to admit that he failed. Just give him room to tell you that things were different from what he expected.”
Howard didn’t say anything. His mind raced to figure out who had been in the boat with Kenneth. Hugh’s pretty American wife? Kenneth had gawked at her naked shoulders like they were a treasure.
Or the nurse? He had followed her out of the room for a few moments, after Malcolm had made his ridiculous announcement about the will.
Jasper said, “I’m not a father myself, Mr Jones. I never had the time to marry or raise a family. My career was too important to me. But I did see a lot of families during my time on the force. I can tell you it isn’t easy to understand each other. You should work hard for it. And often as a man with a business or a job you simply do not take the time. I urge you to take the time and get to know your son. Before you might lose him.”
Maybe I’ve lost him already, Howard thought. The boy in the village had been beaten, hurt, but he had not broken anything and his father had been willing to accept money and be silent about the affair. Here it was all different. What if Kenneth had hurt a woman? A woman who was older than him and whom he had… admired?
Howard didn’t want to think beyond that. He vaguely heard the former policeman speak about the importance of communication. He agreed with all of it, but words were not the same as actions. Things were always different when you wanted to act. You sort of stared at the solution and then shied away from it. Because it was too big to grasp.
Or maybe because you were afraid that knowing things was worse than not knowing them and simply guessing about them?
They climbed the steps up to the villa, Howard hoping they would never end. That they could just keep climbing and didn’t have to face arrival.
He heard a voice call something, then laughter. A group of people in colourful clothes was playing miniature golf on the course Malcolm had especially created for this purpose. It even had a miniature Big Ben overseeing the sixth hole.
Howard noticed Patty first, her high-pitched voice talking about something she had done wrong. She looked radiant and livelier than ever, running to get something from the terrace. She wasn’t hurt.
So it had to be the nurse. The quiet little nurse. The one who wasn’t a family member, not even by marriage. Would it make a difference? If Kenneth had hurt the nurse somehow, would Malcolm help to cover it up?
Then Howard saw her too, sitting on the terrace with Malcolm. She wore a long-sleeved blouse and a skirt reaching all the way to the terrace tiles. The book in her lap made her look like a stern teacher waiting until she could call the children away from play to learn lessons again. But she sat there and her face was calm and free of bruises and Howard suddenly felt more at ease and certain he could somehow keep this under control like he had in Provence. Money solved so many things.
Cecily saw them and ran for them. “Darling…” She looked Kenneth over. “You’re all wet.” She looked up at Howard, her expression one big question mark. “Where have you two been?”
“I’ll explain later,” Howard said. “Kenneth needs to change and drink something hot.”
“It’s over thirty degrees,” Cecily objected. She smiled at Jasper. “And who can this charming visitor be?”
Malcolm waved at them from the terrace, and Jasper waved back. “Just a friend who lives nearby,” he said to Cecily. “Excuse me, I’ll go see Malcolm now. He seems to want to tell me something right away.”
He walked off, the dog following him closely.
Cecily said, “You’re mysterious, dragging in a stranger.”
Howard barely heard her. He watched the former policeman walk into their circle and not be met with any suspicion or fear. He was just a friend of Malcolm’s, right?
Why had he not mentioned his former profession?
Because he didn’t realize it matte
red? After all, he was living here now, at the nearby villa. His visit wasn’t official.
Or was it?
Did this man know a whole lot more about Malcolm’s plans than any of them could even begin to fathom?
Chapter Seven
Patty whispered to Hugh as they went down to dinner, “You shouldn’t look so glum all of the time. So you ended last at golf, but that doesn’t mean you have to pout.”
Or hack into the lawn with your putter, she wanted to add but thought better of it. Hugh had a temper, and she didn’t want to provoke him into lashing out at her.
In the dining room the new arrival, an interesting older man with grey sideburns, stood waiting for them. He reached out to Patty and said, “May I accompany you to the table and sit by your side? You promise to be much better company than Malcolm.”
“We must be kind to him,” Patty retorted with a smile. “After all, he won’t be with us for much longer.” She studied his classic profile with the determined chin. “Have you known him long?”
“Since I came to live here, three years ago. It’s curious though that our paths never crossed when we both still lived in London. I worked not far away from where he had his offices. Then again, London is a city of millions and it would have been a miracle if we had coincidentally met, I suppose. We didn’t exactly move in the same circles.”
Probably meaning he had acquired money later in life and could now afford the villa he lived in. He had pointed it out to them from the golf course: a house slightly smaller than the Villa Calypso, painted a bright yellow with white accents around the windows and the door. You could see all of that quite clearly across the distance as if the Mediterranean sun etched everything even brighter.
“I would appreciate it if you would call me Jasper,” the man said, holding her gaze with his probing dark eyes.
Patty returned his smile. “Of course, but only if you call me Patricia. We must all be friends. You play golf so well.”
“This course isn’t much of a challenge,” he said. “It’s more a game of tactics than skill.”
A Testament to Murder Page 8
