“Okay Kirsty, calm down. We can sort this out. Just come away from the edge, and we can get everything cleared up.”
“No! I’m going to tell you everything! I’m tired of bottling it all up! It’s now or never!”
“Okay, okay. When did you find the box?”
“About a month ago. I confronted Harry. He told me about his and Moira’s little ‘arrangement.’ About how Moira had died before he could find a buyer. He thought I’d just let it go, the stupid man. I told him the jewelry belonged to me now.”
It occurred to Annabelle that the jewelry would have belonged to Felicity, but she didn’t think now was the time to point that out.
“Why did he keep the jewelry so long? Why didn’t he just get rid of it when Moira died?” Annabelle asked.
Kirsty shrugged, “A dinnae ken. Perhaps he thought he would sell them years down the road when everyone had either forgotten about them or were long gone. Or perhaps he’d forgotten about them. That’s how he was, careless. He didn’t value anything, not even his own daughter.
“Of course, Harry wasn’t going to give the jewelry over just like that. In fact, he snatched them off me and laughed in my face. Well, I wasn’t having any of it. I threatened to tell the insurance company of his and Moira’s little scam.”
“So that was why he hid the jewelry box in the abandoned house,” Annabelle said. “He was afraid that the insurance company would knock on his door and come looking for it.”
“Or the police,” Kirsty said. “And with the amount of debt that Moira and Ben left behind, they wouldn’t be the only ones after it.”
“Kirsty, please,” Annabelle implored. She held her arms out. “Come to us. We’ll help you.”
Kirsty stared intensely at her small audience as she stood precariously on the rocky outcrop buffeted by the strong winds all around her. Annabelle wondered how she managed to stand so still. Kirsty shut her eyes tight and balled her fists before sighing like a punctured balloon.
“I didn’t know the jewelry box was in the church. I just saw him marching up to the door. It was odd, because he wasn’t playing his bagpipes. He’s always playing them like a fool. I watched him go right up to the kirk and break the doors open. Bold as brass! Smashing the doors of a church in clear daylight! That tells you what kind of man Harry was.”
“Why didn’t you just call the police?” the Inspector asked.
“There is no police,” Kirsty replied. “We’re on our own here.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
“COULD YOU NOT have confided in someone?” the Inspector asked.
Kirsty smiled sadly and turned to Annabelle. “Vicar, you’ve been on this island for what, two, three days now? You should know the answer to that question already. There isn’t a person on this island who would take my word over Harry’s. And he knew it. Harry’s the center of everything in this town. He knows everyone, knows their secrets, and sees them all the time at the pub. He wouldn’t have worried about me seeing him committing a crime. He would have been thrilled knowing that the only person who knew he’d broken into the church was the one person no one would believe.”
“What happened after you saw him breaking in?” The Inspector had decided that as pleading with Kirsty to come away from the edge hadn’t worked, it was best to keep her talking.
“I watched him come out with something. I wasn’t sure what it was, but he was acting furtively so I followed him. It was clear where he was heading.”
“The beach,” Annabelle said.
Kirsty nodded solemnly. “It’s about a mile long, fifteen feet wide. Up here we have this legend that if you hide a love letter under the rocks and someone finds it, they’ll end up loving you back. Over the years, most of the kids have left letters – but no one’s ever found one. The only way you’d find something there is if you hide it yourself. There are just so many rocks.”
“So you knew Harry was going there to hide something?”
“Aye. But I didn’t know what. I thought I’d follow him and just see what it was, then maybe come back later and take it for myself – the same way he took from me,” Kirsty said, pausing for a second. “Then I saw the jewelry box… The sight of him there… Squirreling away something that belonged to me! The gall of the man! The injustice! And stealing it from a church, too!” Kirsty stopped for a moment to calm herself down, gasping for breath. “I thought, once again, Harry would just get away with everything.”
“So you killed him?”
Kirsty raised her eyes to meet Annabelle’s. They were wide and vulnerable now, tears emerging at the corners.
“I was up on the large rocks, looking down at him below. It was like I was watching myself, like somebody else was controlling my body. I grabbed the biggest rock I could manage because I thought he might lash out if he saw it was me. I climbed down to him. He was digging and scrabbling around like a fury. I was able to get close to him without him noticing me. But then he turned around, and in my panic I brought the rock down on his head. He went down like a stone.” Kirsty’s eyes were wild now. She was panting again. “My mind went mad, and I grabbed the bagpipes and shoved the chanter in his mouth and the bag over his face. I thought he might start screaming, but then I just kept it there, holding it down…”
“What happened after that?” Nicholls said, wanting to keep Kirsty focused. Kirsty looked at him as though she hadn’t heard what he’d said. “And then what?” he repeated.
“I–I didn’t know what to do. I grabbed the jewelry box and ran home. I hid it where Felicity wouldn’t find it. I put the jewelry up for sale online and made sure it couldn’t be tracked back to me. I thought I’d sell it, bounce the money around a little, and keep my head down. But then, I don’t know how, the listings were stopped. And then you,” Kirsty nodded at Annabelle, “came round the next day. You showed me those pictures, asked a load of nosy questions.
“Where’s the jewelry now, Kirsty?” Annabelle asked.
“It’s on top of the large cabinet in my living room.”
Nicholls glanced at Annabelle, then back at Kirsty, still standing bold and resistant on the outcrop. As the wind whipped her dark clothes around her body, and with her fists now clenched tightly by her side, there was a sense of dignified rebellion about her, a sense of immovable pride and fortitude in her small frame, outlined against the crashing waves and endless sky.
“I suppose this is it for me now then,” Kirsty said.
“Don’t be silly, Kirsty!” Annabelle bellowed against the wind. “You can’t do this!”
“Can’t I?” Kirsty said, a small smirk appearing on her thin lips. She took a step backward.
“Whoa! Stop!” Nicholls shouted.
“Why? It’s my life! Would you take even that freedom away from me?” Kirsty called out. “I know what’s going to happen. You’ll take Felicity away. And then you’ll lock me up for good. Isn’t that so?”
Annabelle looked at the Inspector, then back at the woman.
“Aye,” Kirsty continued. “Thought so.”
“You’ve got plenty to live for! Think about Felicity! We can work things out,” Annabelle cried.
“What? How? Tell me. A bunk bed and prison food? A visit from my sister’s child once a month? Forgive me if that’s not a deal I wish to accept, Vicar. No,” Kirsty said, years of resentment and frustration evident in her tone, “my life’s been over for a long time. It was over way before you even stepped foot on this God-forsaken island.”
“Kirsty!” Nicholls yelled. “You’re not thinking straight! I understand, this happens a lot. You’re anxious, afraid, and you don’t know what will happen. But you’re acting rashly. At least give yourself a chance to think about things. You owe it to yourself and Felicity!”
Kirsty snorted derisively, then let out a full blown laugh, before her wild eyes settled on the Inspector as if he were a child unable to understand something utterly rudimentary.
“You think I’m acting rashly? You think the idea to end it a
ll just popped into my head as soon as you and your girlfriend came along to cause me problems? You don’t understand a thing! I’ve thought about this since I was a young girl. I’ve had to spend every day in Moira’s shadow. I thought about it when she left me alone to rot on Blodraigh while she lived out all of our dreams. I thought about ending it when she died and left me with all her problems to clean up. Don’t you dare presume to tell me that I’m acting rashly!”
As if spurred on by the bitterness of Kirsty’s words, the wind picked up, lashing Annabelle’s hair against her face so roughly that she was forced to turn away. The Inspector shielded his face. Kirsty turned quickly and took a step toward the edge, so close that the toes of her boot hung in thin air, three hundred feet above the violent waves crashing against the ancient cliff face.
“No!” the Inspector cried out. He rushed forward, Annabelle a half-step behind. Kirsty didn’t look back. In one second she brought herself up to her full height, looked out at the horizon, and stepped off.
The Inspector lunged, Annabelle screamed, but they were too late and not close enough. Kirsty was gone. They cautiously leaned over the edge of the cliff clinging to a small flicker of hope that she may have survived. Upon seeing the sheer drop and the ravaging force with which the waves threw themselves against it, that flicker was immediately extinguished.
Annabelle closed her eyes in horror and threw herself against the Inspector’s chest. He held Annabelle tightly as the utter senselessness of what had just happened passed through them, as mighty and insistent as the waves themselves.
After sobbing gently a few times, Annabelle pulled herself away from the Inspector and looked at him.
“We should call someone,” she said, finding some sort of brief solace in pragmatism.
He nodded as he took her hand, “I’ll take care of it.”
“Let me say a prayer.”
Silently, they bowed their heads as Annabelle spoke quietly. When she was done, she looked up to the heavens and crossed herself.
Slowly, still holding hands and with the pace and gait of a funeral march, the two of them began retracing their steps, sharing a silence that was as intimate and somber as the feeling in their hearts.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Friday
THE PUB WAS packed when Annabelle, Mike, and Roger entered it in the late afternoon. They’d decided to go for a few drinks, a final opportunity for them to enjoy each other’s company before the two visitors made their way back to the sunny south coast of England.
Mairéad had left Blodraigh for Fenbarra and left the pub in the hands of Bruce Fitzpatrick. As soon as the villagers found out it was reopening, they had descended upon it en masse. It had been an eventful week, and there was plenty for the villagers to discuss.
The three of them found themselves an empty spot in the far corner. They sidled into a comfy booth. Finally they could relax.
When Roger decided to brave the crowds to get the first round in, Annabelle asked Mike, “What do you think will happen to the island and the islanders now?”
The Inspector looked out of the window and scanned the magnificent surroundings; the rolling hills, the spackled light which filtered through the new leaves on the treetops, the wispy clouds that slowly crept across the horizon.
“Life goes on,” he said. “The story of what happened here will be passed down from generation to generation but will grow evermore vague until the truth is lost in the vestiges of time. That was Kirsty’s problem; she clung to the past. But life always goes on. Whether you want it to or not.”
“Yes,” Annabelle said, studying the thoughtful expression on the Inspector’s face, considering this new, philosophical side of him, a side she hadn’t seen before. “It certainly does.”
It had been a busy few days for everyone. There had been tears, hugs, late night discussions, and much soul searching. Many cups of tea had been drunk.
After Kirsty’s confession and suicide, Roger had picked up Felicity and Bonnie from school and the girls had been enjoying an extended sleepover ever since. While they played and slept, there had been plenty of talk about Felicity’s future now that she was entirely without family. These conversations had involved lot of reflection and handwringing, but eventually a decision was made. The authorities were informed, and their approval sought and granted. With Mrs. Cavendish’s support, it was decided that Roger would take responsibility for Felicity’s future care, and to the girl’s delight, they became sisters.
Dinner on Monday night had been a rather emotional affair. Roger had fretted and fought over the prospect of telling Felicity – and indeed, Bonnie – about all that had happened: Kirsty’s suicide and her role in Harry’s murder; the plotting over the jewelry and Felicity’s mother’s complicity; and the sudden upheaval that Felicity was about to undergo. Roger had never been adept or comfortable with emotional turbulence. Indeed, a large reason he preferred life on the sleepy island of Blodraigh was his preference for peacefulness and routine.
Thus, it eventually fell to Annabelle to calm him and use her compassionate and sympathetic manner to inform the young girls of what had taken place. Once dinner had concluded, she took them to Bonnie’s room and after settling them with cups of hot cocoa, had talked to them about what had come to pass.
To everyone’s surprise, the girls showed a remarkable amount of understanding and strength in the face of the revelations; Felicity with her typical maturity, Bonnie with her characteristic positive outlook.
After a long and heavy night’s sleep, they all awoke to the sound of birdsong and bright sunshine. Roger took the girls to school while Annabelle and the Inspector spent much of the morning submitting a detailed report to the island’s police.
After the Inspector had made some inquiries, three of the local fishermen – including Davy and Fraser – organized a dive crew to conduct a search for Kirsty’s body. They conceded even before they began that the chances of finding Kirsty were virtually nil, such was the strength of the tides around the coastline. However, they spent much of the next two days searching the rocky, wave-thrashed seas around the cliffs where she fell. Despite Annabelle’s fervent prayers, their prediction had proved to be and was likely to remain, accurate.
With so much going on and so much yet to talk about, Annabelle felt sad that the time of her departure was nearly upon her. She still had much that she wanted to do with Bonnie and felt that her conversations with her brother had been all too brief – though as sincere and as genuine as ever. She would have liked to stay longer, but a sense of routine and stability needed to be restored in Roger’s household, and it was better that she take her leave as planned. Besides, the villagers of Upton St. Mary were awaiting her return.
Roger came back to the table, carrying over two pints of bitter for himself and the Inspector, and an orange juice for Annabelle. He set them down and immediately raised his glass, compelling Annabelle and Mike to do the same.
“To a safe journey back to England,” he said.
“And to a quiet and safe future for you and Blodraigh,” Annabelle added to Roger.
They sat for a few moments in silence, savoring the taste of their drinks and the excitable chatter of the pub.
“So how do you feel about being outnumbered by females now you’ve had a couple of days to think about it?” Mike asked Roger.
“To be perfectly honest, I think it’s a great idea. I was concerned at first, but the more Annabelle talked to me, the more it made sense. Felicity has no one else to take care of her. She spends so much time with Bonnie, she’s practically been a part of the family for a while now. My house is big enough, and it won’t be any trouble for me financially. Mrs. Cavendish has promised to help, so we should manage. The best thing is that it means neither of them is an only child any longer. I think we will all thrive from the arrangement.”
“It must be quite a shock for Felicity,” Mike said. “First losing her parents and now Kirsty.”
“I don’t think Felicity a
nd her aunt had the best of relationships,” Annabelle said, frowning a little as she remembered the indignant way Kirsty spoke of her niece. “I didn’t get the impression that Felicity was as upset as you might think. And, you have to admit that the idea of getting up to tons of mischief with Bonnie holds a lot of appeal.” She smiled.
“True enough.” Roger nodded. He glanced up. “The detective from Fenbarra is over there, look.”
“He must be wrapping up the investigation. It’s an open and shut case after all,” Annabelle said.
“Actually, I heard he’s been rather busy. One emergency after another cropped up the second he set foot on the island.” Roger pointed out a large man in a trench coat. “That’s him. Campbell. The one laughing at the corner of the bar.”
Annabelle followed the direction of her brother’s gaze.
“Oh! He’s talking with Mitch and Patti. Coo-ee!”
The tourists noticed Annabelle waving in their direction. Their faces lit up. They quickly made their excuses to the Fenbarra detective, picked up their drinks, and slid through the crowd toward her.
“Hey y’all!” Mitch said warmly.
“Hi, Vicar,” Patti added, as Annabelle pressed up against the Inspector to make space for the new arrivals. His thigh was warm. “It’s good to see you again.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
AFTER A BRIEF round of introductions, Annabelle turned to the Americans.
“You seem in a far better mood than the last time I saw you. I presume you’ve finally got to see your castle.”
“Did we ever!” Patti said, her bright smile lighting up the table.
“Oh boy,” Roger said, smirking mischievously into his drink.
“What happened?” Annabelle asked, curious to see what had caused such a change of heart.
“It’s one heck of a story,” Patti said, nudging Mitch with her elbow. “Tell them, Mitch.”
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