High Island Blues

by Ann Cleeves

  ‘“Well then,” she said in a kind of drawl, stringing it out, making them wait for an answer, “ it all depends what you mean, boys. Do you mean for a night, or a few days, or to spend the rest of my life with?”

  ‘“The rest of your life,” Rob said.

  ‘“That’s easy then,” she said. “It would have to be Michael”.’

  ‘What was the others’ reaction to that?’

  ‘I don’t know. Not now, thinking about it. Then I was a kid. There was a lot of joking and I took it at face value. But I guess she must have been serious.’

  ‘Yes.’ George stared into the whisky imagining the scene Mary Ann described. Four young people sitting in the dark, intensely connected through friendship and lust and jealousy. Had any of them realized that Laurie was making a real choice?

  ‘Did the evening break up then?’ he asked.

  ‘No. Laurie asked what they all wanted to have achieved in twenty years’ time. Rob said he wanted still to be travelling. Definitely not to have settled down. And I suppose he’s achieved that. I admire him for not having given in.

  ‘Oliver said: “A houseful of kids.” There was a lot of laughing at that. It was another in-joke I didn’t understand.

  ‘Laurie said it was quite simple. She wanted to be rich. Oliver, sneered at her a bit for that, said something like: “ I never took you for a bread-head Laurie.” She answered very seriously: “ Well, Oliver, you’ve never been poor.”’

  ‘And Mick? Did he say what he wanted out of the next twenty years?’

  ‘Yes.’ She paused. ‘He said he wanted to be married to Laurie. The others groaned at that as if it was some kind of sick flattery. But I could tell that he was still playing the truth game. He really meant it.’ She looked at George to see if he believed her.

  ‘Then someone, Laurie I think. It would have been Laurie, said they would have to get together in twenty years’ time to see how much they had achieved towards their goals. Here at the Oaklands Hotel, she said. And perhaps then the weather would be better. Perhaps then there would be a fall and they’d see all the warblers they wanted. The weather had been fine and clear until the storm and the birds hadn’t stayed. They must have agreed, though I don’t remember that. They must have agreed because they all came.’

  ‘What happened next?’ George asked, prompting her because she seemed lost in her daydream.

  ‘They saw me. I guess I must have got too close to the door. Laurie suddenly shouted: “ Jesus Christ there’s a ghost on the veranda.” And they brought me in and asked me how long I’d been out there. I didn’t like to admit that I’d been snooping so I said just a few minutes, just long enough to hear them plan to come back to Oaklands. Rob told me he hoped I’d still be living here then and that I could be part of the reunion too. I said that was what I hoped would happen. In twenty years’ time I wanted the Oaklands Hotel to be real smart and me to be here, running it. Then the lights came on suddenly. The room just looked a mess. It wasn’t magic any more. I went to bed and by the time I’d got up in the morning they’d all gone. Laurie too.’

  ‘Was that true?’ George asked. ‘Was that what you wanted even then?’

  He knew the answer already. He thought that was why she remembered the evening so clearly. It wasn’t only the strange light, and the storm and her fascination with adult conversation. She saw it as the beginning of her life’s work. It was as important as that to her.

  ‘Yes. You know I think it was. Even then.’ She spoke casually, trying to make light of it.

  ‘And I think you would have done anything to get what you wanted.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Didn’t Laurie believe that she was entitled to a share of the house?’

  ‘Is that what she told you?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘She didn’t believe that. She pretended she did though.’

  ‘Your grandmother and Laurie’s were sisters weren’t they? Twins?’

  ‘They were sisters but they weren’t twins, though they looked as alike as peas in a pod as they grew older. My grandmother was the elder and Oaklands was left to her. Neither of the old ladies would have wanted Laurie’s father to have it. Laurie knew that all along. She knew she had no real claim to the place and she didn’t want to know until the hotel became successful. Like she said in the truth game she was always motivated by money. She was jealous that I was doing so well.’

  ‘What did she do?’

  ‘She started dropping in with Michael. Just to be neighbourly she said. She didn’t come near the place when Mom was sick and I could have used the help. There were six old men here then, most of the rooms shut up and I was cleaning the bathrooms myself. She didn’t show an interest until I did the place up and she could see I was making a go of it. At first she just dropped hints. About how my grandmother would never have been able to keep the Oaklands Hotel going herself. About how the two sisters were partners. Not formal perhaps. Never written down. But they’d never think it would have to be. They’d think that the family would always stick together, always look after each other. That’s what she’d say.’

  Mary Ann swirled the remaining whisky in the bottom of her glass.

  ‘It was her father’s fault,’ she said. ‘ He started it. According to Mom he was always going on about how the place should have been his. When he was sober enough to speak. Laurie took the idea from him.’

  ‘That’s why your mother didn’t mix with that side of the family?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Things moved beyond hints, didn’t they?’

  She looked at him, weighing up what he knew, too tired perhaps to come to a judgement.

  ‘I was at the Brownscombe offices this morning,’ he said. ‘I found a letter you’d sent to Laurie confirming the contract for the wildlife refuge.’

  She continued to stare at him, then she drained the last of her whisky.

  ‘I made a mistake,’ she said. ‘I talked to Laurie and Mick about my idea for the new refuge. They were in the business. I thought they could give me some advice. As they wanted to be neighbourly. Laurie began pushing straight away for Brownscombe Associates to be given the contract for surveying and planning it. I told her I hadn’t reached that stage. She got mad, said that if I couldn’t be reasonable she’d have to consult a lawyer about making a formal claim on the hotel. I was scared. I didn’t think she’d win but if I had to defend that sort of action it could cripple me financially.’

  ‘So you gave them the contract.’

  ‘Yeah!’ She got up and poured more whisky into both glasses. ‘I was a coward. I wasn’t prepared to take the risk. And as I said the other day she had some pretty good ideas. But then I thought. That’s it. I’m never going to allow her to put pressure on me again. I put it in writing on the morning Michael died.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me all this when I asked you before?’

  ‘Why do you think? What Laurie did amounted to blackmail. Suddenly her husband, a partner in the business and so also implicated in the blackmail, is found murdered. At the very least I’d be a suspect and hassled. I can’t afford that kind of distraction. I need to run this hotel.’

  ‘And how did the meeting go with Laurie last week?’

  ‘Do you know, it’s ironic. We got on better than we had for some years. She said that she hoped there were no hard feelings and I must understand her wanting to be involved in the place. As if the threats were a bluff or a joke. Of course I could understand. Look, Mr Palmer-Jones, if you think I had a motive for killing the man you’re wrong. We ended up on good terms. I didn’t think it would be so bad working with her. And I’d never had any quarrel with Mick.’

  He left her then. He hoped she would sleep, that she would realize the hotel would function without her until morning. He walked through the windy night to his room.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  George had expected to sleep badly, but he woke early the next morning to squally sunshine and the surpri
sed gratitude which always came after a full night’s rest.

  It had rained very heavily in the night. Surface water had gathered in a dip in the lawn. The restaurant had only just opened for breakfast and he ate alone.

  From the phone in the lobby he used his charge-card to call the pub where Molly was staying in Devon. The landlord said she had gone away for a couple of days to research her book but she’d asked him to keep the room for her and he expected her back that evening.

  ‘Any message?’ the landlord asked, curious, shouting against the noise of the lunchtime drinkers.

  ‘No,’ George said. ‘No message. I’ll try again later.’ He was disappointed, unreasonably cross with Molly because she was taking so long to get a result.

  He phoned Laurie’s house. The call was taken by a teenage girl, monosyllabic and sullen. He asked to speak to Laurie.

  The girl was suspicious. ‘Why? Who is it?’ Perhaps they had been troubled by reporters, ghouls and cranks.

  ‘A friend of your father’s,’ he said and gave his name.

  Laurie seemed relaxed, almost cheerful.

  ‘Hi, George! How can I help you?’

  ‘I’ve a few more questions I’m afraid. I was wondering if I might come to see you.’

  ‘Sure. But I was planning a trip into Houston today. Why don’t you meet me there? We could have lunch. And it would save you a little travelling.’

  ‘Why not?’ he said, but he would have preferred a different arrangement. London was the only large city he’d ever felt comfortable in.

  She suggested a place in the Galleria and gave him directions. He wrote them down then went to the reception desk to borrow a street map of the city centre. Connie May was on her way out of the restaurant.

  ‘I’m going into Houston,’ he said. ‘You have friends there, don’t you? Would you like a lift? Perhaps you could arrange to meet them.’

  For a moment she seemed taken aback. ‘That’s very kind,’ she said. ‘ But I’d rather stay here. Close to Russell. I know it’s silly but I’d feel easier in my mind.’ As if she could protect her husband.

  ‘He could come too.’

  ‘No. He wouldn’t want to leave High Island. He thinks the rain might have brought some more birds.’

  ‘I’ll come with you!’ It was Julia Adamson. He had not seen her. She must have been listening. She smiled at him. ‘You will give me a lift Mr Palmer-Jones, won’t you? I’ve been trying to persuade Oliver to take me all week.’

  ‘I expect he had other things on his mind,’ George murmured. He meant the murder of an old friend but she did not notice the sarcasm.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘This bloody bird race.’

  ‘They still intend to go ahead with it?’

  ‘Madness, isn’t it? They seem keener than ever. You will take me Mr Palmer-Jones won’t you? I could be ready in a moment.’

  He paused. She took his hesitation as consent, thanked him and hurried away.

  It took her half an hour to prepare for the trip. He waited with mounting impatience. He hated to be late. When Molly said she was almost ready it meant she had to grab a coat. Or change from the tennis shoes with the holes in to the new baseball boots their daughter had given her for Christmas. She seldom bothered to brush her hair. When Julia finally appeared she was very glossy. Very made up.

  They walked round the house to the old stable yard where his car was parked. The drains were full and the trees were sodden. A mini bus drove down the drive and pulled up outside the kitchen door. A dozen officers, dressed in overalls and waterproof boots got out.

  ‘My God!’ Julia said. ‘Do we get individual body guards now?’

  ‘I think they’re here to make a detailed search of the grounds.’ He had expected it before.

  ‘Isn’t that a question of shutting the stable door once the horse has bolted?’

  The flippant tone annoyed him. ‘They haven’t found either murder weapon yet. They searched the Boy Scout reserve after Michael died and found the iron post which caused the head wound but not the chisel which stabbed him. They’ll be looking for the object used to kill Esme Lovegrove too.’

  ‘Oh!’ She put her hand to her mouth.

  They drove to Houston in silence. The fields on either side of them were covered in the water which had drained from the road. The traffic was heavy and they sat in a queue on the outskirts of the city. At the Galleria, George chose an underground car-park. He and Julia took the lift together into the shopping centre.

  ‘I’ll meet you back at the car in three hours,’ he said.

  ‘Only three hours!’ she exclaimed in mock horror.

  ‘I’ll have you know, Mr Palmer-Jones, that I’m a serious shopper.’

  ‘If you’re not there I’ll go without you.’ She began a little laugh, thinking that he was teasing, then saw that he was not.

  The lift doors opened and they stepped out into a crowded mall.

  ‘My wife’s in Bristol today,’ he said.

  She turned sharply towards him but before she could ask what he meant he walked off. That would give her something to think about while she was shopping.

  The Galleria complex was a tiered, covered amphitheatre built around an oval ice rink. Lines of children, holding hands, swooped and glided over the ice. The shops seemed expensive, the piped music generally discreet. There were occasional touches of Texan brashness to relieve the blandness: a small shop selling nothing but cowboy hats and boots, rows of denim skirts and blouses covered in diamante and coloured embroidery, stalls selling the biggest ice creams he had ever seen.

  He saw Laurie from a distance. She did not notice him. She was sitting at a table outside a French café on the same level as the rink, watching the children. She wore jeans and boots and a white button-down shirt. No hat though. Not like the first time the boys had seen her walking down the road from Winnie. On the chair beside her were two shiny carrier bags with rope handles and gold lettering. She too had been shopping. It seemed an inappropriate occupation for a newly bereaved woman and he was oddly shocked.

  When she saw him walk towards her she moved the bags from the chair so he could sit down. She must have sensed his disapproval because she said: ‘I bought some treats for the kids. It’s been a tough time for them and they’ve been great.’ Her hair was loose and she pushed it away from her face with the palm of her hand. ‘More questions, you said.’

  ‘I’ve been talking to Mary Ann about Oaklands.’

  ‘Ah.’ It seemed almost like a sigh of relief.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘It didn’t seem right. If she hadn’t told you first it would have been kind of snitching.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You work it out for yourself. She didn’t exactly feel friendly to Brownscombe Associates, then Michael got murdered. People might take that the wrong way.’

  ‘But you didn’t? You didn’t think Mary Ann killed Michael?’

  ‘Of course not. She’s family. I’ve known her since she was a kid.’

  ‘But you made life awkward for her?’

  ‘Nah!’ A waitress came. They ordered coffee, savoury croissants. Laurie grinned. ‘Well maybe a little awkward. I mean I’d been brought up to think of the Oaklands Hotel as my home too in a way. I didn’t have anywhere else. I guess I thought I should have a stake in it. When I saw what she was making out of that place it made me mad. Michael thought I was crazy to mind so much. “Just let it go,” he’d say. “We’re doing all right.” But I couldn’t. I made him come with me to visit, just to let Mary Ann know that I was still interested.’

  ‘What were you hoping for?’

  ‘I don’t know. Some way of being part of it I suppose. It wasn’t just the money.’ She paused. ‘I went there when things were bad at my parents’ place. It was always special for me.’

  ‘Then she told you about the wildlife sanctuary?’

  ‘Yes, and I suggested we could plan it and run it for her. It was just the sort of thing I was ho
ping for. You’d have thought she’d have jumped at the chance of giving us the contract. We’d have given her a good deal.’

  ‘But she didn’t jump at it?’

  ‘No, she was real sniffy. At first anyway.’

  ‘She thought you were blackmailing her.’

  ‘No! It wasn’t like that.’

  ‘You told her you’d sue for a share in the hotel.’

  ‘Hey, I say things when I get mad. Are you joking? Do you know how much it would cost to bring in the lawyers? I thought life was comfortable for her. Like you said, maybe I just wanted to be awkward.’

  ‘And it worked didn’t it? Mary Ann gave you the contract.’

  ‘Yes, it worked. And though she might not admit it we work pretty well together. She liked some of my ideas.’

  The waitress came up behind them and filled their glasses with iced water, their cups with coffee.

  ‘Like entering a team in the Birdathon. That was your idea, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Sure.’ She looked up at him. Her face was freckled and there were crumbs around her mouth. ‘Mick was looking forward to it, being part of the old team again.’

  ‘I think the Birdathon should be cancelled,’ George said slowly. ‘Or if that’s not possible at least the Oaklands team should pull out. What do you think? Should the race be scratched?’

  ‘Heck no! Let it go ahead. As a memorial to Mick if you like. He would have liked that.’

  ‘You’ve heard there’s been another murder?’

  ‘Yes.’ She gave a sudden and wicked smile. ‘Mary Ann’s going to need as much good publicity as she can get after two murders within spitting distance of the new reserve. And I’ve got a financial stake in the project being a success. Maybe I should take part myself.’

  Despite himself he admired her refusal to pretend at a grief she did not feel.

  ‘I don’t think that would be a good idea,’ he said.

  ‘Maybe not.’ She got up and walked into the café to find the restroom. As soon as she had disappeared through the door he stooped and looked in the shiny carrier bags under the table. In one there was a parcel, already gift wrapped. On the label she had written: ‘For Paul, all my love, Mom.’ In the other there was a dress which even he could tell Laurie would never wear. So she had not been lying about the shopping. He wondered if she had been equally truthful during the rest of the conversation.