by Anne Perry
“We haven’t time to be subtle,” she agreed. She chose a simply cooked dish of fish and vegetables.
He decided to order the same. “Have you any plans, specifically? We already know the disposition of the will. It all goes to Rebecca. The only thing we might learn is why it is important, if it is…” Suddenly, the adventure of it seemed pointless. They were pretending they could succeed, but the mirage needed only to be touched to disappear.
“We can find out who is interested in buying the house,” Miriam answered, very serious again. “And I want to learn more of May’s death. There may be nothing to find, but we came to look.”
With news of the murder of Morley Cross they had discovered the total darkness behind what had looked to be no more than shadows. They could not ignore that the victims in this case could be more numerous than they had ever envisaged.
“I wonder if Sidney ever came here,” he said. “Or anyone else involved in the case. Do they even have a policeman here?”
“They’ll have a postmaster…or a postmistress would be even better,” she answered. “I wager she knows everybody and much of their business better than any constable. It will be gossip, so leave it to me.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Are you good at gossiping? I would never have guessed it. It is so…” Then he was lost as to how to finish.
“A woman’s thing?” she asked quietly, but with a definite flicker of humor in her face.
He did not know how to interpret that. A compliment? Or an insult? But he had heard that hesitation again, the moment of hurt. “An inexact thing for a scientist,” he answered with sudden assurance.
She smiled. “Aren’t lawyers exact, too?” She looked very directly at him.
“When it suits us,” he agreed, again with an edge of humor.
“And when it doesn’t?”
“Then evasive and devious as an eel!” he replied.
She laughed outright, a rich, happy sound. “I must remember that!”
“And we should see the doctor, too,” he added. “They usually know much of the community. He won’t be able to say a lot, but he can tell us who was here.”
“And how Miss Trelawny died,” she said.
He looked steadily at her. “You really think that this may be far more than assault and petty theft?”
She did not evade the answer. “Don’t you?” she challenged. “And even if it is no more than a stupid, petty mess, we have to find out.”
“Yes. First thing in the morning. Now let’s enjoy this hot dinner and then a walk to where you know Aunt May’s house to be. On an island this size, we can’t get lost for long, even in the dark, although I’d rather not have to wake up some farmer and ask him the way. He may not think we have any right to be there.”
“We haven’t,” she agreed. There was the tiny pucker of a frown on her brow. “Are you worried? I know you have moral concerns that I don’t, because nobody is trusting me.” She looked at him gravely. “But you believe, as I do, that the very thing that lies at the heart of all this also caused the death of May Trelawny?”
She had used very gentle language, but there was a sudden icelike chill over his skin, and he knew she meant murder. The murder of May Trelawny. “Do you think so?” he asked gravely. “Really?”
“Yes,” she answered. “I think it would be big enough and dark enough to be the missing piece. Don’t you?”
There was no purpose in hesitating, let alone denying it. “Yes.”
Their dinner eaten and paid for, Daniel and Miriam walked the mile and a half from the hotel in St. Anne to the manor house perched on the coast above a quiet cove. Miriam seemed to have no doubt that it was the right place. They could see a flower garden out front. In the summer night the sky was scattered with a million stars, and dusk-scented blossoms were sweet in the air, their smell easily discernible in the stillness above the salt wind from the sea. They glimpsed a vegetable garden at the back, the tall stands of beans unharvested, rows of lettuces and a glass cucumber frame. There was no one around, but Miriam still led him to the back door to break in.
Daniel took the lock pick out of his pocket and practiced the art Roman Blackwell had taught him. Miriam watched without comment, but he could almost feel the questions on her lips. It took him several minutes. He decided he needed to do this more often to keep up his skills. It was more difficult than he had remembered. He could not make the tumblers turn.
She reached past him and put her fingers on the door handle. She turned it, and it opened.
She breathed out in relief and stepped inside. She turned on a single light, and he closed the back door. They were in a tidy kitchen that looked as if it had been left with every expectation of the owner returning.
Miriam ran her finger over one of the shelves and looked at it. There was a film of dust. Her face reflected a sudden, vivid sadness. She did not need to say anything for Daniel to know her thoughts and share the moment of sorrow.
He reached out and touched her hand, gently, and made a very rash promise. “We’ll discover if she is a part of this,” he said softly. “For now, let’s find some blankets and places to sleep. There must be two good rooms upstairs. If there aren’t, I’ll sleep on the sofa. There’s bound to be one. We have a lot to do, and less than two days in which to do it. The trial resumes on Monday, and it could end quickly.”
Miriam nodded, for a moment too moved to speak. Perhaps she felt awkward faced with the reality of the situation. But it was a little late for embarrassment. She had invited him, not the other way around.
“Yes,” she answered a second too late to have avoided the hesitation. “Yes, of course.”
CHAPTER
Twenty-one
IN THE MORNING, they rose early. It was a bright, sunlit day, and the sea breeze was gentle, no chill in it. They agreed to walk into St. Anne and find a good breakfast, then begin to search for everything they could learn about May Trelawny and her house. It was a short walk with views of the sea, vivid blue water stretching to the horizon and breaking white on the rocks close to the shore.
“We must find out if anyone was seriously asking about buying,” Daniel said over bacon, eggs, sausages, and mushrooms. To him, sitting outside a café in the bright sunlight, at a table open to the breeze off the sea was the best of all worlds.
Miriam was wearing a dress; it was the first time he had seen her in one. He might have expected her to wear something more traditional for anyone with such bright auburn hair, like a gentle blue or green, but her dress was a subtle pink and wine-colored floral, composed entirely of warm colors. Without giving a thought as to whether it was appropriate or not, he complimented her on it. He saw instantly that he had made her uncomfortable, but he was not going to apologize. He did like it, and it did suit her. In fact, he saw several other people in the café and passing along the street look at her a moment longer than normal.
“Yes, of course,” she agreed about the house. “And find the doctor to question him. I’m a little apprehensive about how we should do that.” She looked at him earnestly. “I have no authority at all. You have a little, since you are acting for someone in court. But we have no written authority. Perhaps we should ask about Miss Trelawny first? At least, how she died. We’ll begin at the post office.” She saw him frown. “Don’t look like that! We have to ask someone. The doctor will be much more careful of what he says. We have only today and tomorrow, and tomorrow is Sunday, so there may be no one available. What else can we do?”
“Tomorrow we can go to church,” he suggested.
“What?” She was startled.
“Go to church,” he repeated. “A better place for gossip than even the post office. All said with the utmost solemnity and only kindly meant, of course. I can see there are two of them—look, the towers clear all the rooftops.”
Her eyes lit with amusement. “Daniel!”
For a moment, he was afraid she was offended. Was she laughing with him, or at him?
“How very practical of you! Indeed, we should! I didn’t bring a hat! I shall have to buy one.”
“Do you mind?”
“Of course not. I shall call attention to myself if I don’t wear one.”
“You will draw attention anyway…” Again, the words were out of his mouth before he considered them, or how she would feel.
“Then I had better choose one that you think would be discreet,” she said a little hotly.
“Why? Do you want to be discreet?”
She did not reply, uncertainty in her eyes. It was the first time he could remember seeing her disconcerted by another person, rather than by circumstances or evidence. What an odd mixture she was of assertion and vulnerability.
“Sometimes being conspicuous is the best disguise,” Daniel ventured. Did that sound like a contradiction? Or possibly like an ambiguous reference to her appearance? What could he say that would not make it worse?
“You mean I will not look like a forensic pathologist?” she asked.
“Can you imagine Sir Bernard Spilsbury in that dress…and a hat?” He smiled.
She put her tea down before she spilled it and burst into laughter. “That was wicked!” she said when she had regained control of herself. “And very funny.”
“You don’t like him,” he observed. They were referring to the most famous pathologist in Britain, perhaps in the world, the virtual father of the science used in criminal trials.
“One doesn’t like Sir Bernard,” she answered. “One respects him, if one is in the right. And fears him, if wrong. To like or dislike him would be impertinent.” She was watching Daniel, reading his reaction closely. “Suggests he’s…human!”
“Then I shall be impertinent,” he replied. “And probably dislike him. Another cup of tea?”
“No, thank you. It’s time we began what we can do today.”
They went first to the post office. It was a short walk along a sunlit street, cobbled and shaded here and there by enormous trees. Woodwork framed windows paned in blues and yellows. Stone-faced buildings supported swaths of climbing flowers in rich bloom. Early sun reflected off large shop windows, making everything bright.
They waited outside while two or three customers went in, then, when the office was temporarily empty, took the opportunity. It was a little shop with several books and postcards and writing paper for those visitors who did not bring sufficient. Daniel went immediately to look through those, while Miriam went to the counter. Pleasant greetings were exchanged, then Miriam asked for stamps.
“I imagine you have some unusually handsome ones?” she asked. “I have friends to whom I would like to send something sort of out of the ordinary. It is, after all, a unique place.”
“Indeed,” the postmistress agreed. “Your first time here?”
“Yes. Although I have friends who live here, and one in particular had a godmother who lived here. Or…she used to.”
“She left?” There was surprise in the postmistress’s voice.
“No,” Miriam’s tone was suddenly subdued. “She died. I would like to visit the grave, or perhaps lay some flowers.”
“Oh dear, I’m so sorry.”
“You might have known her?” Miriam said hopefully.
Daniel knew the lift in her voice and could imagine her expression as clearly as if he could see it, even though he had his back to them and a fan of postcards in his hand.
“I know most people,” the postmistress agreed warmly. “Oh dear, I hope you don’t mean Miss Trelawny?”
“I do. Why?”
“I’m so sorry, my dear. A lovely lady. We all miss her. It’s as if a little color of the island had gone away. And…”
“And?” Miriam asked anxiously.
“Well…such a terrible way to die,” the postmistress said softly. “Poor soul. The last person to whom I would have expected…” She tailed off, as if it were too dreadful to say.
Daniel felt his fingers gripping the cards. He was in danger of bending them.
There was silence. He knew Miriam was wondering what to say to draw the rest of the story, without sounding overcurious. The last thing she would want was to turn the postmistress against her.
“All they would tell me was that it was unexpected,” Miriam said at last. “That doesn’t mean anything, not really. I supposed I should have realized it was because they were hiding the truth. Now it makes me more…disturbed.” She took a breath and let it out in a sigh. “People talk. They can be very unkind. All sorts of things are said by people who should…I expect you have heard such things. But I believe she did not deserve it. I would very much like to tell them that I know the truth, and they are talking malicious nonsense. There is no scandal here!”
“There certainly is not!” the postmistress said with rising anger. “She had a sick horse and she rose to tend to it in the night. She went out to the stable and found it in some distress. No one knows exactly what happened, but she must have tripped on something, or lost her balance. The horse was frightened and lost its head. It kicked her, very badly. She must have fallen against it, and that panicked it further. It plunged around and…and she was kicked to death.”
“Oh dear!” Miriam sounded truly distressed. “How very dreadful. Poor woman! I think…I think I will not say exactly that…should I be called upon to say anything at all.”
“Yes. Very wise. No use distressing people. You could always just say her death was quick.”
“Thank you. It must have been very dreadful, but you have put my mind at rest regarding people speaking ill of her now. She was…” Miriam hesitated, as if lost for adequate words.
“Indeed,” the postmistress agreed.
Daniel turned around slowly, until he could see the postmistress’s face. She was smiling, as if at a memory that pleased her.
“She was always collecting stones. Some of them were quite lovely, but all of them interested her. You know the expression ‘marching to a different tune’? Well, I would say Miss Trelawny danced to her own tune.”
“And such a sense of humor,” Miriam added. Daniel knew she was guessing, drawing a word picture of someone she would have liked.
“Oh, yes,” the postmistress agreed heartily, and proceeded to give several examples of it. She and Miriam ended laughing together.
“And she loved the house,” Miriam went on. “I heard there were people interested in buying it from her heir. Will they be taking the animals, too?”
“Oh, bless you, certainly not. The cats have found new homes nearby. The wild birds she fed will forage for themselves. They always could; she just liked it when they came. And the doctor took the horses.”
“That would be Dr….”
“Dr. Mullane. They were good friends, you know. He was very upset by her death.”
“Of course. You have been very kind. I’m afraid I have taken up a lot of your time,” Miriam apologized.
“Not at all,” the postmistress assured her. “But the house is not for sale, you know. Not at any price. She left it to her goddaughter. She was adamant about that.”
“Did the interested party offer a lot for it? Oh! I’m sorry. That is not any of my business.” Miriam sounded shocked that she could have said such a thing.
“Well, I did hear say it was more than twice what it was worth,” the postmistress replied. “Very insistent he was. So I’m told.”
“Young man? Tall? Rather nice-looking, with fair hair?” Miriam asked, taking Daniel’s description of Philip Sidney. “In his late twenties, perhaps.”
“Bless you, no!” The postmistress was amused. “This man must have been fifty, if he was a day.”
“Oh. Then it wasn’t who I thought. Perhaps that’s just as well. Thank you again f
or giving me the ammunition to silence some of the gossips. Good morning.” And Miriam turned and went out the door.
Daniel made up his mind about the cards, bought a couple of sea views and one of a bright, narrow street with garlands of wisteria up the walls, with a mind to give them to Cassie, and then followed Miriam into the street.
She was waiting for him about fifty yards away.
“Excellent,” he said, taking her arm and starting to move farther away from the post office in case the postmistress should come to the door and see them conferring. “Although it’s pretty wretched that May Trelawny died so horribly. I hope Rebecca doesn’t have to know. But…” He stopped. What he had been going to say sounded so cold-blooded.
“But what?” Miriam was not going to let it go.
“But it doesn’t help Sidney,” he replied.
“That isn’t what you were going to say.”
“Oh? What was I going to say?” He kept his voice soft, and his face almost entirely without expression.
She lifted her chin a little higher. “It doesn’t indicate a crime. Particularly, it doesn’t sound as if she was killed by someone else. I can’t see why anyone should kill her over the house. Can you? It’s nice, but there are many others like it, and in better repair. Did we miss something?” She looked at him curiously.
“I don’t know. I can’t think what. It would take quite a lot of money to turn it into a really beautiful house. It’s too small to be a hotel. The views are marvelous, and the garden is I think the most beautiful I’ve ever seen. But you don’t kick someone to death over a lovely garden, with an exquisite view.”
“It’s very solitary,” she said. “If you wanted to be left alone…”
“A hermit?” he said, half-jokingly.