High Island Blues

by Ann Cleeves

  Benson was sympathetic but unmoved.

  ‘Hey, George! This is the States! If we were to shut down an area for a week every time there was a murder the country would go bust. I told you. The birders mean big bucks in this town. If I try to stop the event I’ll have a riot on my hands. I mean it’s advertised. They’ll turn up anyway. What do you want me to do? Set up road blocks? It’s not possible.’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘ Unless there’s something you haven’t told me. Unless you think there’ll be a risk to the public. Have you any evidence of that?’

  ‘No,’ George said. ‘I’ve no evidence.’ Only a feeling, he thought, and Benson would laugh at that. I would if I were in his shoes.

  ‘Then we have to convince people that it’s business as usual. That there’s no need to panic and they can visit High Island.’

  ‘Your friend in the gas station told you that did he?’ George muttered. Benson pretended not to hear.

  ‘Tell me,’ the constable said, leaning forward across the table. ‘How are your investigations proceeding? What can you tell me?’

  ‘The fraud I was telling you about,’ George said, ‘concerning a non-profit organization called the Wildlife Partnership. Brownscombe Associates had nothing to do with that. Its scope was limited to Britain. The name was used. That was all.’

  ‘I passed the information you gave me about that to the sheriff’s department. They checked it out. They thought the Brownscombe business was legitimate, too. But thanks anyway. It might have led to something.’ He waved at Miss Lily to bring more coffee, ordered a slice of pie. ‘Anything else?’

  ‘Laurie Brownscombe thought she should have had a stake in the Oaklands Hotel. Her grandmother was a partner in the place.’ He looked at Benson steadily. ‘But you were brought up here. You’ll know all about that.’

  Benson laughed. ‘I remember those old ladies. They used to come to church dressed from head to toe in black. They had the sweetest singing voices you ever heard.’

  ‘You didn’t tell me.’

  ‘No. I didn’t. I take my work here seriously. It’s not my place to divulge confidential information to a private investigator. You’ll have to accept that, George. All the information goes one way.’ He laughed again. ‘But I knew you’d find out anyways. If you were as good as I thought you were.’

  ‘You don’t think it’s relevant to the murder?’

  ‘That Laurie Brownscombe’s as jealous as hell of her cousin? No. I’ve known Mary Ann Cleary since she was a kid. She wouldn’t murder anyone. She’ll fight like a tiger for that place but she’s not the sort to stab a man in the back. If it was the other way round I might be persuaded. I went to High School with Laurie’s father. He was never any good. By that time the sisters were too old for much heavy work around Oaklands, but he wouldn’t lift a finger. He was always in some bar drinking, even then. Elsie did it all. She could have gone away to college. She was clever enough to get a scholarship. But she stayed on to look after the old ladies, keeping the hotel open somehow.’

  ‘Where’s Laurie’s father now?’

  ‘In jail. I checked. Where he spent most of his life. But you don’t want to hear my stories about the old times, George. Once you get me started we’ll be sat here drinking coffee all day. Believe me, you can forget about Mary Ann Cleary. The motive for this killing doesn’t go back that far.’

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I think it’s too much of a coincidence that Michael was killed two days after meeting up with friends he’d not seen for twenty years.’

  ‘You think there was a grievance that’s been festering away over all that time?’

  ‘Something like that.’

  ‘You find out what it is then, George, and we’ve got our murderer.’ But he spoke as if he didn’t really believe it. He stood up and called Lily back into the restaurant so he could pay.

  ‘Can I drive you back to the Oaklands Hotel?’ George shook his head. He was glad to be away from the place for a few hours. He sat where he was. Benson drove off and Lily opened the door to admit the group of birders who’d been waiting impatiently outside. While he drank the rest of his coffee he listened to them talking. They were discussing their strategy for the next day’s bird race. They might have been planning a military operation in unfriendly territory. At last he could stand no more and he began to walk slowly back to the hotel.

  He took an indirect route past the post office and Joe Faggard’s museum. The sun was shining but there was still a blustery wind from the sea. On the James Taylor High School sports field a baseball match was being played. After the rain the field was a startling green. A gaggle of teenage girls in brightly coloured clothes waved and cheered. Connie May was there, watching the game through the high wire mesh fence. When she saw George she turned away from the leaping teenagers and they walked the rest of the way together.

  ‘You didn’t go with the others to Anahuac,’ he said. ‘I thought you liked to stay close to Russell.’

  ‘No. I couldn’t face it today. All the chat’s getting on my nerves. To tell you the truth, Mr Palmer-Jones, I won’t be sorry to be home. Russell’s very keen on the bird race but it doesn’t seem right to me.’

  ‘That’s rather the way I feel too.’

  ‘But they say you’re going to be a member of the team.’

  ‘Do they?’

  ‘I’d be glad if you would. You could keep an eye on Russell for me.’ She smiled but he thought she meant it. He didn’t know what to say.

  ‘Well?’ she said more brightly. ‘Did you find out who Esme Lovegrove was chatting up that lunch time before she died?’

  ‘No. Not yet.’ Then he thought that was one aspect of the case he hadn’t properly followed up. There were still questions to ask about the appointment Esme had made. He had been distracted by the Adamsons and the Wildlife Partnership. For the first time he thought he could see a way forward.

  Chapter Thirty

  George caught up with Oliver and Julia in their room, just before lunch. He couldn’t dismiss them altogether. They had a motive for Michael’s murder. He suspected they had been hiding out there, hoping to avoid him. When he knocked on the door there was a silence, as if they were debating whether it was practical to pretend they weren’t in. They must have decided that he couldn’t be fooled because a voice called out, ‘Just a minute,’ and the door was opened by Oliver.

  ‘Ah, George. What can I do for you?’

  ‘You might let me in.’ George spoke mildly but he had his foot by the door. He’d had enough of being messed about by them.

  ‘I don’t know. Julia has a migraine. Perhaps we should talk somewhere else.’

  ‘I think Julia will want to hear what I have to say.’

  ‘Let him in Oliver.’ Julia was resigned but not unwell. ‘ We’ve done all we can.’

  Oliver stood aside and George walked into the room. Julia was sitting in an easy chair next to the long window which must once have been the door on to the veranda. Mary Ann had stood outside it, listening to a group of young people revealing their secrets, telling the story of their lives.

  ‘You’ll have come about Sally,’ Julia said. ‘Is that it, Mr Palmer-Jones?’

  She was wearing a dress he had not seen before, a purchase, he supposed, from the Galleria. Her hair was pinned elaborately away from her face. She was not so concerned about her daughter that she had let herself go.

  Oliver looked crumpled and grey. He turned to his wife, as if to warn her not to speak, but she went on impatiently. ‘It’s no good Ollie. She’s not a child any more. You can’t take the blame for what she’s done.’ She looked up at George. ‘Our daughter’s a manipulative woman, Mr Palmer-Jones. She can twist Oliver round her little finger. She always has done.’ She might have been talking about a stranger. ‘I’d like to point out that I had no part in this mess. I was furious when I found out that he covered up for her.’

  ‘I didn’t,’ he said. ‘No. Not exactly
that.’

  ‘What, exactly, did you do?’ George asked.

  ‘She came to me a couple of months ago,’ he said. ‘ Not home. To my office in London.’

  ‘She wouldn’t come home!’ Julia spat. ‘She wanted sympathy. Not home truths.’ Oliver ignored his wife’s outburst. He had heard it all before, so her words had no meaning. He sat on the edge of the bed. Neither of them thought to offer George a seat and he stood just inside the door, leaning back against it.

  ‘I’ve never seen her so upset,’ Oliver said. ‘Not even when she lost her job with the BBC. She was terrified. Really. In floods of tears.’

  ‘She’s an actress,’ Julia said. ‘She was putting it on.’

  ‘Eventually I calmed her down and she told me what happened. An unfortunate prank which had got out of hand. Obviously that’s what it was.’

  ‘How much money did she make by this prank?’ George asked.

  ‘I’m not sure.’ Oliver was defensive. ‘Not exactly.’

  ‘But presumably there is a list of donors and donations so the money can be returned? As a lawyer you’d have asked her that?’

  ‘Of course. She’s unfortunately vague. You know, George, I think she was very depressed at that time. She had a sort of breakdown.’

  Not too depressed, George thought, to dream up the ‘prank’.

  ‘If she continues to be unfortunately vague,’ he said, ‘ we’ll have to ask the police to look into her bank account and trace all the incomings and outgoings. I suppose she did start a bank account in the name of Wildlife Partnership UK’.

  Oliver nodded sadly.

  ‘And if anyone had checked they’d have discovered that the Wildlife Partnership was a perfectly respectable non-profit organization which had done a lot of good work in Central and South America. They’d assume that Sally’s charity was part of the same outfit.’

  ‘I don’t think,’ Oliver said, ‘that anyone actually checked. It’s a minefield, charity law. Very few people understand it.’

  ‘But Sally would have understood more than most because she’d grown up with it.’

  ‘I suppose she must.’

  ‘And why was she so upset when she came to see you? I take it that she hadn’t had a sudden crisis of conscience?’

  There was a silence. Oliver considered lying, looked at Julia, then thought better of it.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘ But she was frightened.’ ‘Because Cecily Jessop had phoned the Bristol office threatening police action, lawsuits and other unimaginable torments if the Wildlife Partnership turned out to be a fraud?’

  Oliver nodded.

  ‘Instead,’ George said grimly, ‘she consulted me. What did you advise Sally to do?’

  ‘To close down the operation immediately, of course.’ It was Oliver the lawyer, the upright citizen.

  ‘Oh, of course! But perhaps you could be a little more specific. You didn’t advise her to return the money to the subscribers or to pass it on to the Wildlife Partnership in Houston?’

  ‘That possibility was considered.’

  ‘And then discounted?’

  Oliver had been staring at the floor. He looked up. ‘She’s my only daughter, George. What could I do? If the fraud had been discovered she’d have been ruined. I couldn’t take the risk. I advised her how to cover her tracks. I told her to stay in character and fold up the operation as if it were legitimate.’

  ‘And to keep the money.’

  ‘The money wasn’t the question!’ Oliver was becoming irritable. ‘I would willingly have repaid that. But how could she give it back without implicating herself in the fraud? I hoped the fuss would just die away.’

  You can’t know Lady Cecily Jessop, George thought.

  ‘Then of course,’ Oliver went on persuasively, an obvious afterthought, ‘in a couple of years’ time when it had all been forgotten we would have made a substantial donation to the Wildlife Partnership.’

  ‘Anonymously,’ George said, not believing a word.

  ‘Well yes. Anonymously.’ He twisted his wedding ring around his finger.

  From the chair by the window Julia had been watching them. She’s trying to work out what I intend to do, George thought. Still leaning against the door he swivelled to face her.

  ‘When did you find out what Sally had been up to?’

  She shrugged. ‘ The same day. After she’d confessed to Oliver and asked for his help. I could tell he was upset when he came home from work. I guessed it was something to do with Sally. She’s the only person he cares that much about. He never sees these friends he’s supposed to be close to. He had to cross the Atlantic to do that.’

  ‘And you supported him in his aim to help Sally?’

  She shrugged again.

  Oliver stood up. His voice was shrill, melodramatic. ‘But you weren’t concerned about Sally, were you, Julia? You weren’t worried that she might actually have to go to prison? No, George. All Julia was bothered about was what people in the village would say if the thing got into the newspapers. That’s why she didn’t want me to confide in you. If it weren’t for her I’d have spoken out sooner.’

  ‘Don’t be pathetic, Oliver,’ Julia said. ‘You’re making yourself ridiculous.’

  Oliver sat on the bed.

  ‘Weren’t you a little concerned about coming here and meeting the Brownscombes who represented the real Wildlife Partnership?’ George asked.

  ‘Ah,’ Julia said. ‘Well Oliver didn’t actually tell me about that bit, did you, darling? He told me that Sally had got the idea from an American woman she had met at a party. He didn’t tell me that it was quite a particular American, the wife of a bosom pal. He didn’t tell me that we’d arranged to spend a week with her on the Upper Texan coast. I didn’t realize that until Laurie started talking about it at dinner the first night here, and even then it took me a long time to catch on. I was listening to be polite, as one does at dinner parties, but not with any real interest. Then I heard the name and it all came together. That’s what Oliver and I were “discussing” when you found us in Boy Scout Wood. I mean fraud is one thing. Quite respectable in certain circumstances. Especially if shares are involved. But murder is quite another.’

  ‘Well really!’ Oliver blustered contrived indignation. ‘You can’t think that Mick’s murder could have had anything to do with that other business. I’m sorry George, but if that’s what you think you must be losing your judgement.’

  Julia looked at him with a malicious smile. George thought she was probably enjoying herself. She spoke slowly.

  ‘Rather a coincidence though, isn’t it darling? I don’t know what you boys had discussed that first night when you came back to the hotel in Houston worse for wear after the Mexican meal. Perhaps you got all chummy and confessional. Perhaps you admitted to Michael that Sally had been using the Wildlife Partnership name to pay for her smart flat in Bristol. What did you expect him to say, Oliver? “ Don’t worry, old pal. Don’t think about it. We’re all friends together after all.” But perhaps he didn’t say that. After twenty years the friendship might have worn a bit thin. Did he threaten to go to the authorities, darling? Is that why you stabbed him in the back with a chisel?’

  ‘I don’t think,’ George interrupted quietly, ‘that the murder weapon has been found yet.’

  She laughed. ‘ Don’t worry. It’s not inside knowledge. Just what everyone’s been saying. And I’m only joking, George, about Oliver. He wouldn’t have the nerve. Not even for Sally, would you, my love? Besides, he couldn’t stand by and let Rob Earl be accused of the murder. He’s far too much of a gentleman.’

  They both looked at Oliver. He seemed on the verge of tears and struggled to speak.

  ‘I didn’t tell Michael about Sally. Please believe me. I wouldn’t.’

  There was a moment of silence, then George continued as if Oliver hadn’t spoken:

  ‘Talking about confessions, do you remember your last night at Oaklands? You played a truth game.’

  ‘
So we did. How do you know about that?’

  George did not answer the question.

  ‘Laurie asked you what was the wickedest thing you’d ever done. What did you tell her?’

  There was a pause. ‘I don’t know.’ It was the old Oliver, charming and in control, as if in talking about that night he was reliving his youth. ‘I really can’t remember. It was nothing too heinous I’m sure. Rob was the exciting one.’

  ‘What did the others say?’

  ‘Come on George! It was twenty years ago. And other people’s sins have never held much interest for me. I doubt if Michael said very much at all. He went through a silent phase when we travelled through America. Sometimes we forgot he was there.’

  ‘He spoke about crashing his father’s car. Does that jog your memory?’

  ‘Did he? Of course he was speaking by then. We’d met Laurie. She brought him back to life. But it doesn’t help me remember what crime I admitted to. It must have been something extremely boring and unremarkable.’

  I wonder, George thought, if Mick would have remembered.

  ‘What will you do now?’ George addressed the question to both of them. He found it hard to believe that they could continue their life together, after such antagonism, but perhaps they had devised ways of surviving these skirmishes.

  ‘I want to go home,’ Julia said. She stretched her arms above her head.

  ‘Honestly, Ollie, I don’t think I can stand it here any longer. You’re the lawyer. Surely you can persuade the sheriff to let us go. There might be seats on the flight this evening.’

  ‘Oh, no,’ Oliver said. ‘That’s quite out of the question. Tomorrow’s the bird race.’

  Then George thought that madness had overtaken them all.

  Chapter Thirty-One