Teddy turned his face to her. It was blotched from crying, his eyes staring at her through wet lashes. “We made a deal this spring. That we would both take care of certain things. He kept his end of the bargain. But I couldn’t keep mine.”
He lowered his head. “I had hoped I wouldn’t see him for the next few months. And then he pops up here.”
His entire body tightened and his hand on the edge of the bed clenched into a fist, the knuckles whitening.
“Why hadn’t you wanted to see him?” Damaris asked. “I thought you were friends.”
“Yes, but I’d have to admit I can’t raise the money. Gideon responded exactly like I had feared he would. Cutting me out.”
“Money? What money?”
“To get the business up and running. Gideon has the brilliant ideas, the inventions, but no money to make them a reality. He wanted that from me.”
Damaris stared into Teddy’s desperate features. “And why can’t you give it to him? Is he asking for more than you agreed on?”
Teddy shook his head. “When we agreed on it, I hadn’t met you yet. The wedding, this trip, it all costs money, and I’m in a bit of a tight spot right now.”
Damaris held his gaze. “You’re on the brink of losing your business dream because of me?”
“No, of course not. I don’t want you to think that.” Teddy reached out a hand to touch her face and then retracted it. “I shouldn’t have drunk so much last night. But Gideon kept refilling my glass and I didn’t want him to think I wasn’t man enough to handle it. Never mind. I did it all wrong. He won’t do business with me any more, you hate me for pushing you…”
“I don’t hate you.” Damaris grabbed his arm. “You’re my husband. You changed my entire life.”
She wasn’t going back to London, to her flat, her job, the long days, the empty nights. She had him now, his warmth, his protection, his ring on her finger and exciting times up ahead. She could never go back to what she had been before. “I don’t hate you for one little thing.”
“I hate men who are violent,” Teddy said. “I swore to myself I’d never be like that. And look at me. One small setback.”
“Hardly small. You’ve looked forward so much to the business plans with Gideon. They have to continue. He can’t cut you out.”
“Well, he will. He already has. And all for money.” Teddy hid his face in his hands again. “Not because he doesn’t like me or doesn’t think I’m able. Just for ruddy money.”
“I can lend you some,” Damaris said. “I have money now.”
“Ten thousand won’t be enough.” Teddy raised his head. “I’m sorry, Damaris, I don’t mean to be rude to you, but it’s not exactly a fortune. Not if you want to bring something new into the world.”
“I have more.” It was out before she had considered well what she was saying. All she knew was that Gideon Hawtree couldn’t just cut Teddy out of his plans. And Teddy shouldn’t be sad and mad and drinking and terrifying her as he had done last night. He should become Teddy again as she had come to know him. Jovial, kind, tender. If money could solve it, could bring him back to her, then it would be a small price to pay.
“What?” Teddy frowned at her. “I don’t understand.’
“I have more money than just ten thousand. The lawyer made me say that because—”
“The lawyer made you lie to me? Your own husband?” He didn’t sound angry, just disbelieving. Disappointed in her and even more sad.
Her heart squeezed for what he was now thinking of her. All because of Mr Fennick and the fortune she had never known about.
She hurried to explain: “He seems to think people might take advantage of me or something. He can’t help that. He must encounter such cases in his work. But we’ll make an agreement on paper. Exactly what I lend you and how and when you will pay me back.”
“Of course. I wouldn’t want it any other way.”
“I knew that.” Damaris felt lighter, happier. “So I can help you. You must go to Gideon first thing after breakfast and tell him you can raise the money.”
“I haven’t told you yet how much he wants.’
“That doesn’t matter. I can raise it.”
Teddy stared at her. “Don’t tease, Rissa.”
“I’m not teasing. I can raise it.” She looked at him confidently. “Trust me.”
Teddy frowned. She had expected him to be happy, to jump up and dance through the room, then come to her and kiss her. But he just had a doubtful look on his face. “What’s the matter?” she asked.
“I don’t know if this is a good idea. You investing in the business… what if it fails and I can’t repay you?”
“It won’t fail. I trust you. Let me invest. What else can I do with that money? I only just heard I have it. I never knew and… I don’t want money to be the reason your dreams go to ashes. Please just let me do this for you. It’s not charity. A loan, an agreement. Even interest, if you want.”
“I insist on it.” His eyes came to life. He leaned over to her. “I don’t want money to come between us. Ever.”
As he kissed her, she closed her eyes and indulged in the warmth he brought to life inside her, so effortlessly. She had never quite felt this way before she had met him. Her life had seemed good enough to her, but now she knew it had been terrible. Terribly lonely and dull.
He was all she needed.
Not money, not freedom.
Just him.
* * *
When Jasper came in to breakfast, he looked around for the young couple, curious if they had made up after their spat last night. As he himself had never been married, he found it hard to understand how people could be at each other’s throat one moment and making up the next, but among couples it seemed to be normal.
Perhaps there would be some tension left, her acting a bit cool, letting him work to regain her favour?
It would be interesting to see.
But they weren’t present and when they also didn’t come in, Jasper grew restless. He caught himself checking his watch every few minutes and not really enjoying his yoghurt with fresh figs.
At last he gestured to the waiter to come over with more coffee he really didn’t want and asked casually, “Are Mr and Mrs Ramsforth not here? I wanted to point out a particularly nice spot for sightseeing to them.”
The waiter lifted his hands. “Bad luck, sir. They took breakfast in a hurry and left. I think to go and see friends?”
Jasper hitched a brow. Again? Or did they have more friends than just the ones they had dined with last night?
A vague suspicion niggled inside him. Had Mr Ramsforth lured his wife away, pretending he was taking her to friends? She didn’t know the island, didn’t know any people here, was virtually unprotected.
“More coffee, sir?” the waiter asked.
“No, I’m leaving. I’ve remembered I’m late for an appointment.”
Jasper collected Red from his hotel room. The retriever was eager to get out and explore.
Keeping him on a short leash, Jasper started to walk around the hotel to the vantage point at the back, overlooking the sea. He walked to the edge and looked down. A steep drop.
A shiver went down his spine and he laughed at his own premonition. If the husband was a nasty person, jealous, possessive, violent, he wouldn’t take her here and shove her over the edge. Such men were too clever for that. He’d probably be nice to her today and then later…
Still, it was odd they had left so early.
Jasper followed a path that led away from the vantage point. He liked long walks and exploring his surroundings through his binoculars. Every now and then he halted to raise them to his eyes and look about him. From this height he could see across the island, towards the houses that lay lower, villas also rented out to foreigners like himself. Where was Damaris Ramsforth? Jasper shook his head and forced his thoughts to focus on his walk, on the firm step of his feet on the rocky path, on the air he breathed, the dog’s antics as Red ran ahead an
d came back with something he had picked up. People were few here, so he had released the dog to run free.
He was just considering where he might eat lunch and what he’d select from the Greek kitchen’s spicy wealth, when a figure brushed past him. He had not heard her coming up to him and the figure, all in black, startled him as if Death itself had touched his sleeve.
As the figure shuffled ahead of him, he concluded it had to be one of the old island widows who sold vegetables and flowers in the harbour. She was much shorter than he was, a fragile figure in the black robes that billowed around her as the wind caught them.
Red stopped and let her pass, not trying to sniff her. The dog’s ears were up, his eyes alert, not worried, but not at ease either.
Damaris Ramsforth’s words that there was an evil atmosphere on the island came back to Jasper a moment, lingering on the air.
But to call an old woman evil just because she was all dressed in black and moved with the silent precision of an assassin…
Jasper shook his head again. He had to let the sea air and sunshine drive all of the macabre thoughts from his head. He was on holiday here. He had offered Damaris Ramsforth his help if she needed any. There was no more he could do.
* * *
After he had walked for just over an hour, Jasper clambered down a perilous steep path leading off the cliffs to the beach. He took off his shoes and walked across the warm sand to where some driftwood lay scattered and sat down beside it to eat some grapes he had taken with him from breakfast. He knew hotels frowned on people taking food away with them, and normally he wouldn’t do it, but today his unrest had driven him from the table early and he had told himself it couldn’t hurt to take along something for later.
The fresh, dark red grapes were delicious, sweet with lots of juice. Staring out over the azure sea while the sun warmed his bare feet, he told himself this was life as it should be. Just sitting there, digging his toes in the sand, patting Red, who lay beside him. The retriever had closed his eyes and was taking a nap.
Nothing disturbed the quiet, and Jasper wondered if he could remember a moment in London where it had been so perfectly still. There had always been traffic under his bedroom window, someone singing a tune as he staggered home drunk, the underground in the distance. Here it was so quiet he could almost hear it as if it had a presence of its own.
He narrowed his eyes and let the sun conjure up rainbows in his lashes. He felt like he was a child again, off for the summer, free to play and do everything he wanted.
He turned his head from left to right to see the world through his rainbow haze. The beach was empty. Nothing stirred. He took a deep breath and held it a few moments before letting it go again. Time to get up again and walk on. He gave Red a little slap on the back to indicate they were moving.
The dog opened one eye and looked at him as if to ask if they really had to.
Jasper grinned. “We don’t have to do anything today, boy. But I need more in my stomach than just a few grapes. I’m here as much for the culinary delights as for the great views. Come on.”
Red accepted the inevitable and jumped up. He shook himself, sending sand flying.
Jasper laughed. “Poor manners, old boy.”
The dog trotted by his side as they continued, walking right where the waves lapped the sand. Jasper enjoyed the sudden chill as the water touched his feet, then retreated again. He stopped to drag lines in the wet sand with his toe.
Looking up, he detected movement in the distance. Something white moving on the breeze. At once he raised his binoculars to see better.
The scene came into view crisply. A young woman in a light summer dress knelt in the sand. Beside her was something dark. Her hand rested on the dark thing.
The wind pulled at the sleeves of her dress. It also picked up the dark thing and moved it.
Jasper broke into a run. He never took his eyes off the scene until he was there, right beside her. Looking down on her – and on the old woman who had passed him on the path earlier.
The dark head cover had fallen away from her face and her wrinkled features looked up at the skies, her eyes staring. The glassiness of death was familiar to Jasper, and he knew he needn’t bow down to check her pulse. She was dead. Stabbed with the knife which stuck out of her chest. The knife the young woman was holding.
Jasper took everything in with a single look. Details etched itself into his memory like they always had at a crime scene: the fact that the young woman wore no hat and her hair was undone. The scratch on the hand that was holding the knife. The glimmer of gold in the old woman’s neckline, as if she wore a necklace underneath her clothes.
“What happened, Mrs Ramsforth?” he asked.
She didn’t look up at him. She just sat there like a statue. In fact, these two would make quite a moving group. “Granddaughter finds grandmother dead’, or something of the kind.
No, that was a newspaper headline. Statues had more elevated names, like Discovery of Grief.
“Mrs Ramsforth?” he pressed.
Still no response. He squatted beside her and looked at her pale expression. She seemed to be in shock.
He wasn’t sure if he could just touch her or if that would give her an additional scare. He spoke softly: “Mrs Ramsforth, it’s me, Jasper. We met at the hotel, remember? What happened?”
She turned her face to him and stared into his eyes. “It’s her.”
Her breath touched his face. It smelled of alcohol. At this time of day?
“Yes, she’s dead,” he said quietly. “Did you find her?”
Her eyes were vacant as if she looked right through him. “It’s her.’
“Who?” he asked.
“The woman who sold me the flowers. The ones that attracted the beetles.” Her eyes suddenly looked right into his, wide and startled. “She followed me around. She spied on me. She was there. That black shadow. She ruined everything. Everything.”
Jasper took hold of her shoulder. “What happened?”
Mrs Ramsforth looked down on the body. She retracted her hand with a gasp. Her eyes went wide as she looked at the knife, the blood welling up around it. Then she screamed.
The scream echoed off the rocks, high and piercing.
She looked at him as if she was surprised she had produced the sound.
Jasper asked, “Did you see who did this?”
Her breathing sped up, became ragged.
“Did you see who did this?” he pressed.
“It was a man,” Mrs Ramsforth said, her voice thin and brittle. “It was a man.”
“A man? And what way did he run? Not towards me or I would have seen him. That way, then?” He gestured across the stretch of beach ahead. “Was he young, old? Did you get a good look at him?”
More importantly, had the man seen her?
“Damaris!”
Jasper looked up at the sudden voice, disturbing his attempts to get through to her.
Mr Ramsforth came running towards them. He called from the distance: “Where did you disappear to? What on earth…?” He fell silent when he saw the dead body in the sand.
He came to a skidding halt and raised a hand to his mouth. “You killed her.”
Jasper said, “Mrs Ramsforth just said it was a man. He must have come in your direction. Did you see him?”
“I saw nobody.” Ramsforth covered his mouth with both hands now. “Damaris,” he croaked. “Why did you have to kill her?”
“What makes you think your wife killed this woman?” Jasper asked. “She didn’t know her at all.”
“She sold us the flowers. Damaris was so upset about it. She said they had ruined everything.” Ramsforth swallowed hard. “She disappeared from the cafe. Just like that. Said she’d go outside for a moment and never came back.”
He pointed. “That knife comes from the cafe. I saw it lying on a table.”
“You’ve seen that quickly.”
Ramsforth pointed. “The handle is marked.”
Jasper did see that initials were burned into it. He looked at Mrs Ramsforth. “Do you remember having seen that knife before?”
She kept her eyes in the distance. “I don’t want to look at it. At her. At her evil face. It’s an evil face. Evil! Evil!”
Ramsforth shrank back as his wife began to screech.
Jasper caught her shoulders and pulled her to her feet. “We’re leaving. Right now.”
“But…” Ramsforth lifted a hand. “Shouldn’t we call the police or something?”
“Do you see a telephone here? I thought not. So, we’re leaving, and then I will call the police. But as they have to come from the mainland, it will take some time before they’re here. Your wife is in shock. She needs to be looked after.” Normally Jasper would have stayed with the dead body, sending the couple off so Mrs Ramsforth could recover from her shock. But Mr Ramsforth had outright accused her of having murdered the old woman, and if he said the wrong things to her while they were on their way to the hotel, she might snap and run off, putting herself in danger.
Besides, the beach was deserted, and Jasper hadn’t met anyone on his walk, so it seemed unlikely someone would come across the dead body while he was away.
He put his arm around the shivering Mrs Ramsforth and coaxed her into walking. Ramsforth didn’t come closer to assist him. “What did you do?” he asked his wife in a low, bewildered tone. “How could you… Because of some flowers? Or was it…” He fell silent and his eyes went wide. “Of course. You had to cover it up.’
Jasper had no idea to what he was referring, but said, “I want to talk to you later. Right now, we take your wife back to the hotel. Come on.”
* * *
At the hotel, he put Mrs Ramsforth in the care of the English couple he had met the day before – simply telling Mrs Murray that Mrs Ramsforth had had a terrible shock and needed looking after. “I’ll come to see her soon. Until then allow no one to speak to her.’
Mrs Murray seemed puzzled by the request but nodded briskly and led Mrs Ramsforth into her hotel room, locking the door. Jasper went to the reception desk and asked if he could use the telephone to call the police. “I assume you have the number?”
Honeymoon with Death Page 7