by Andrew Garve
“I’m at sea about everything,” said Susan. “It’s all most unsatisfactory. I feel certain there’s a tremendous amount to find out, but I just don’t know where we can begin. I hate the idea that Garland is going to get away with things, and that’s what it looks like.”
“I wouldn’t be too certain about that,” said her father. “I can imagine that the fruits of murder aren’t always what they’re expected to be. Things often go wrong.”
“They do in books,” said Susan. “I wonder what fruits Garland expected from killing Dubois? Do you suppose he kept a coloured mistress on his boat, or something, and Dubois found out?”
“I can think of nothing less likely,” said Anstruther dryly. “Anyhow, we’re just beating the air. We can’t possibly form any useful conclusions without data. I’d better get back to the office.”
He uncoiled his legs and got up. “What are you going to do,
young fellow? You don’t seem to be spending much time on Tacri these days.”
“No,” said Martin, meeting Anstruther’s quizzical glance with a frank smile.
“H’m. Susan, I’m beginning to think you’re a bad influence on Martin.”
“Oh, darling, that’s awful,” said Susan. “Because I’m going to marry him.”
Chapter Twenty-eight
A great round moon was rising above the motionless palm fronds that fringed Darwin Bay, lighting the yellow sand and throwing a silver bridge across the still water of the lagoon. The evening air was scented and caressing. Above the water’s edge the yacht Papeete lay almost upright, firmly embedded in the soft sand where the storm had driven it. Its hull glimmered white in the moonlight, and its masts stood out sharply against the velvet sky. Its main hatch was open, and so were its portholes. On the shoreward side of it there were footmarks in the sand—a man’s and a woman’s.
Below decks, on one of the softly furnished settees in the cabin, some clothes were carelessly thrown. A woman’s clothes, gossamer thin, hardly a handful all told. A man’s clothes— the tropical uniform of an airline pilot. On the floor stood a picnic basket, open. On a little extending table stood two glasses, each with its amber content of whisky and ice. On the rim of one glass there was a smudge of lipstick.
On the other settee, beneath an open porthole through which the moonlight streamed, Celeste lay naked, her beautiful body gleaming, her fair hair scattered round her satiny golden shoulders. Beside her lay a young, good-looking man whose skin was tanned a rich brown from much sunbathing.
Celeste, surveying her companion’s nude body, thought again what a handsome pair they made, and how well he matched her physically. Not, she reflected, that there was anything wrong with Adrian’s body. He might be a much older man, but he kept himself fit. He was as muscular as this Dave Lawrence, and just as passionate. But he was her husband. He was around all the time. And then he was so serious. Whereas Dave, although a wonderful lover, was no more serious than she was. Also, being a pilot, he wasn’t in the vicinity too often. Their meetings were infrequent, lighthearted, and completely carnal. It was an arrangement which suited Celeste perfectly.
Dave, raising himself on one elbow, passed her glass across and clinked his own against it. “To us,” he said. “Gee, you look beautiful to-night, honey.”
“Don’t I always?” said Celeste provocatively.
“I’ll say you do, but there’s something extra special about you right now. Maybe it’s the moonlight, or maybe it’s because I haven’t seen you for so long. What went wrong last month?”
“Adrian didn’t go fishing after all. He had a conference or something.”
“Too bad. I sure felt deprived. I got really steamed up over the ocean, and when I flew in over your garden and saw the white cloth wasn’t there I felt like turning the ship round and flying straight back.”
“You’d have consoled yourself, I don’t doubt,” said Celeste.
“Why, sure.” His dark eyes smiled into hers. “You wouldn’t have me waste all my youth and beauty, would you? But it would have been anticlimax. You know that. You’ve spoilt me for the ordinary models.” His hands slid over her, softly following the curve of hip and thigh.
Celeste shivered under, his touch. “Don’t do that; you’ll make me spill my drink.” She sipped the iced whisky. “How do you like this rendezvous? I think it was very nice of Adrian to let the boat run aground in such a heavenly spot, don’t you?”
“He’d be pretty mad if he knew how convenient you find it, I’ll bet.” Dave looked out of the porthole. “It’s certainly a humdinger of a spot for necking. Not a leaf stirring, and all that moonshine. It wouldn’t be quite so marvellous if that husband of yours took it into his head to come and have a look at his boat to-night, all the same.”
“You’re not scared, are you?”
“I might be, at that. From what you tell me, he sounds quite a hunk of a man. What’s he doing this trip, anyway?”
“He’s away on a cocoa plantation, darling, trying to improve the health of the natives, don’t ask me why. You needn’t worry. He doesn’t come here now—not since a servant of his was drowned when they were out on a fishing trip. Besides——”
“Besides, what?”
“Oh, I can handle him. He’s a bit afraid of me.”
Dave looked amused. “Now why would a woman like you go on living with a sap like that?”
Celeste smiled. “We’re not so casual about marriage as you are, my boy. And, anyway, no one better has cropped up so far.”
“You mean nobody with more dough?”
“That’s rather the idea. I might even run away with you if you’d got a million dollars.”
“Wait till you’re asked, you shameless little gold-digger!”
“But you like me, don’t you?”
“I think you’re adorable.” Dave pressed close to her and they kissed with sensuous passion.
Celeste drew her head back. “Do you love me?” she asked.
“Do you want me to?”
“Not particularly.”
Dave laughed. “At least I bring you nylons.”
“Darling, you’re sweet. I’ve never had a more satisfying lover.”
“And you never will, honey. Unless you can find a guy who’ll shower mink coats on you every time he arrives in port. Say, these bunks are narrow.”
“They’re not meant for two side by side.” Celeste shifted her position slightly, and Dave rolled over. The settee springs creaked.
Presently Dave sat up and reached for a cigarette. “Honey, I know when I’m beaten. Don’t forget I’ve got to fly tomorrow.”
“That’s just as well,” said Celeste, admiring the sheen of her hair as it cascaded down her arm. “Adrian gets home tomorrow.”
“Panting for his loving spouse, no doubt.”
“Don’t be coarse.”
Dave grinned. “Okay, honey, I know how you feel. ‘It’ll be hateful, but you’ll have to do your duty’.”
Celeste looked at the smiling face, so confident of its charm. Dark wavy hair, brown skin, white teeth. Dave was certainly good to look at. Fun to be with too, for short periods. He was gay and debonair. Young as he was, he knew most of the answers. She couldn’t pull the wool over his eyes, and it was somehow a relief. All the same, once appetite was satisfied he hadn’t really got much. She wondered how she would feel about him when they returned from Honolulu—always supposing she hadn’t found herself a millionaire there.
She stretched like a cat, almost purring with physical contentment. “Pour out another drink,” she said, “there’s a good boy, and throw me my clothes. We’ll have to be going.”
“It’s a shame to cover all that up,” said Dave, but he wasn’t really interested any more. He fixed the drinks. “Well, here’s to the next time.” He raised his glass.
“Happy landings,” said Celeste. She took a long drink, then lifted her head and listened. “Isn’t that a car?” she said.
Dave peered out of the porthole again.
The sound of the engine became unmistakable. A moment later headlights flashed among the palm trees not fifty yards away.
“Christ!” said Dave, and made a dive for his clothes. He began to dress, his fingers clumsy with nervousness. “What do we do now, kid?”
Celeste’s eyes were wide with excitement. “What on earth can have brought Adrian here to-night? My God, he’ll kill you, Dave!”
“That’s a nice thing to say,” said Dave, buttoning his tunic. His face was pale and his apprehension was growing but at least he felt better with his clothes on. “It’s too late to skip, anyway,” he muttered, looking out across the sand. “I suppose it is your husband?”
“No one but Adrian would come here in a car,” Celeste answered. “Give me a cigarette, will you?” She too was pale, but she showed no sign of panic. Dave held the lighter for her, and the flame was unsteady. Heavy shoes crunched outside among the shells. Then Garland’s voice called harshly, “Who the devil’s in there? Come out, do you hear?”
Dave stood up, bracing himself against a bulkhead. Celeste sat where she was, on the bunk, her cigarette glowing between still fingers. Feet appeared on the companion ladder, lit by a shaft of moonlight, and Garland’s head followed as he glared down into the cabin.
For a moment he remained quite motionless, scarcely believing what he saw in the half-light. Then he came slowly down the companionway. “Celeste!” he exclaimed in a hoarse voice. “Celeste, what does this mean?”
“Isn’t it rather obvious?” said Celeste.
Garland looked across at Dave. He could have broken the boy’s neck, but it hardly seemed worth it. It was Celeste who mattered. He suddenly saw quite clearly how utterly he had deluded himself. Nothing that had happened since that first day with Dubois had given him such a jolt as this.
Dave, pressed against the bulkhead and watching Garland, said with feigned calm, “If you’re going to slap me I guess we’d better go where there’s more room.”
Garland, not looking at him, said, “Get out!” When Dave didn’t move he shouted again, “Get out, do you hear, you little swine?”
Celeste, from the bunk, motioned to Dave to go. “Wait outside,” she said. The young man squeezed past Garland and climbed the ladder.
Celeste gave a long sigh as the tension eased. “That was very sensible of you, Adrian. Thank you.”
“How long has this been going on?” asked Garland in a low voice.
Celeste gathered her belongings. “Adrian, I refuse to talk here. And before anything else, I must take Dave back—he hasn’t a car. I’ll see you when I get home.”
“You expect me to go home?”
“Why not? You needn’t stay if you don’t want to, but we must have a talk.”
“I can say all that I want to say in a couple of minutes,” said Garland harshly.
Celeste stood up. “No doubt,” she said coolly, “but I may have a few things to say too—things that will surprise you.”
Leaving Garland open-mouthed, she climbed the ladder and joined Dave on the beach.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Celeste stood on the terrace of her home in the luminous chirruping darkness, listening for the approach of the station wagon. She had disposed of her pilot, quietly and without fuss, and for all that he mattered to her now he might never have existed. If it would help repair the situation she was quite ready to appear remorseful, but she didn’t think it would. On the other hand, if it should be necessary, she was equally prepared to be defiant. She hadn’t wanted a showdown with Adrian, but if he forced one she would fight for what she had with all the weapons in her considerable armoury. She was, in fact, awaiting has return with more curiosity than alarm.
She had had a shower and changed into a severely becoming gown, and now felt braced for what could hardly fail to be something of an ordeal. In the mirror she had seen a picture of sophisticated propriety, of elegant composure. Yes, she thought, she could handle Adrian, as long as he didn’t become violent. She had never doubted his capacity in that direction. He had been hurt so much himself to-night that he might want to hurt her. She shrank from the thought of his muscular hands and was glad that Salacity was within call.
Lights suddenly flashed at the end of the road, and the station wagon screeched to a standstill at the gate. The angry slam of the car door was like an explosion. Celeste went indoors to meet her husband. The sooner it was over the better.
Garland came in with heavy aloof dignity. He flashed her one brief inimical glance and stalked over to the sideboard to pour himself a drink. At least, Celeste saw with relief, he wasn’t going to start throwing things. His determined self-control was patent. She began to wish that he would speak— the smouldering look in his eyes was unnerving. She could cope with a noisily angry man, but this charged silence was infinitely more difficult to deal with.
Garland drank his whisky at a gulp and stood by the window mopping his forehead. Celeste realised that he had had a great shock and that it would be necessary for her to use the utmost tact. She must be careful not to provoke him further.
From the arm of the settee, where she had taken up a graceful position, she said in a subdued, almost penitent voice:
“I’m sorry this has happened, Adrian. You must believe that I feel horribly humiliated.”
He turned angrily. “Humiliated? You? You’re beyond humiliation!”
“Adrian!” she said in a wounded tone.
“You belong in a farmyard,” he sneered.
Celeste’s lips tightened a little. It looked as though penitence wasn’t going to work. “Abuse isn’t going to get us very far, Adrian, do you think? And, anyway, I’m not particularly interested in your opinion.”
Garland’s eyes flashed. “So it seems. You’re no better than a bitch in heat.”
“If you’re going to talk like that I shall leave. Understand once and for all that the way I behave is my own affair. I’m not asking for approval. And I’m not in the least sorry for what I did. All I regret is that you found out.”
“We’ve got to the truth at last,” said Garland, his face working.
“I might as well be frank. You shouldn’t have spied on me. I suppose that’s what you were doing?”
“I was doing nothing of the kind,” he answered furiously. “I had business on the boat. I had no idea that you were there. I can still hardly believe that you were. It’s like a nightmare.”
“I really don’t see why it should strain your credulity,” said Celeste. “These things do happen, you know—quite often. It’s unfortunate that you should have found us like that, and although you mayn’t believe it, I do feel humiliated. But I’ve hardly made history.”
“You’ve made history for me,” he said.
Celeste assumed a softer expression. “I can understand your being hurt and angry—”
“Hurt and angry! You just can’t imagine how I felt! How should you? You’ve never cared about me as I did about you. You were the one person in the world I relied on. I thought I could trust you. I don’t know why I should have done—but I did. You meant everything to me. You were the one stable thing in life, the one thing that mattered. And I find you behaving like a filthy little slut. My God, it’s unbearable!”
“Having an affair with a presentable young man doesn’t make me a slut,” said Celeste, “and you know it. I’m afraid you’re very old-fashioned.”
“If I were,” said Garland, “I’d thrash you. Are you in love with that fellow?”
“Don’t be absurd. He doesn’t mean a thing to me”
“Does anyone?”
Celeste shrugged. “I have a certain respect for you, darling, though you may find that difficult to believe. The weak woman and the strong man, you know.” A smile flickered over her face. “I’ve always admired your strength. Poor old Dave showed up in a very poor light by comparison when you came into the cabin. It almost made me despise him. It was nothing more than a passing affair, you know, although I don’t suppose that will make any
difference to you.”
“It robs your intrigue of any shred of decency, that’s all. If you’d been in love with him it wouldn’t have been so bad.”
“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not. I went to bed with him because I felt in the mood, and that’s all there is to it. Personally, I can think of no better reason.”
“It’s not the first time, I’ll be bound.”
“No, it isn’t,” said Celeste, “and I dare say it won’t be the last. Considering everything, I must say I think you’re being ridiculously conventional.”
“I’m quite sure I am, by your standards, and I shall continue to be. Don’t think you’re going to get away with this, Celeste. I’ve been made a fool of long enough. When you’ve been dragged through the divorce court and stripped of what little self-respect you’ve got, you may regret your attitude. I’m going to ruin you. When I’ve finished with you you’ll be on the streets, where you belong.”
Celeste gave a long sigh. “My poor Adrian! For a man of the world you’re surprisingly stupid. Was I on the streets when you married me?”
“Not quite.”
“Now thats very horrid of you, and not a bit true. I may have married partly for position, but lots of women do that. I could easily do it again, you know. All the same, I don’t think I fancy being divorced—not at the moment, anyway. It wouldn’t be very pleasant for you, either, to have our affairs paraded before all the people we know. Can’t you imagine how they’d lick their lips? ‘Poor old Garland,’ they’d say, ‘he must have been blind.’ They’d be sorry for you; would you like that? Surely you can see how much better it would be to behave in a civilised fashion. You know what I mean—keep up appearances the way people do. You don’t have to sleep with me if you don’t want to.”
“I don’t want anything more to do with you. I hate the sight of you, can’t you understand?” Garland turned away, conscious that his words were final, but that his mood swung miserably between hatred and longing.
Celeste sat still, and thought hard. Divorce might have its advantages. What, after all, could Garland give her now? She might be well out of things. She’d exhausted all his possibilities. He’d never be able to give her all the things she wanted, she realised that at last. All the same, if they were to part, it should be in her own time, not his. And with dignity. She wasn’t going to be flung out by Garland or anyone else. For one thing, she had no money to speak of. It might take a little time before she could find the right sort of husband. Her requirements were greater now than they had been when she married Garland. No, it wouldn’t do to have a financially embarrassed interregnum. She could remember only too vividly the time, not so very long ago, when she had lived the precarious life of a woman without man or means. It hadn’t been at all satisfactory. She mustn’t make the mistake of throwing away dirty water before she had some clean.