"Bold, but not exactly the tact I would have taken," she purred.
At first Duncan assumed she referred to his attire, and he glanced without thought down at his khaki shorts, canvas deck shoes, and blue shirt. Conservative was the word he'd used to describe his clothing. A stifled laugh from Sunny told him she was not ridiculing his garments, but referring to the incident at the pool. She must have been watching from a window when he shoved the others into the water.
She placed her arm around his, presumably for help getting down the stairs, and pulled herself close to him as they descended the steps. When they reached the bottom, he spied Angus and Angela seated outside under an umbrella, enjoying the view. Sunny held tight to Duncan and he was compelled to arrive on the terrace in her clutches.
Angus appeared none the worse for his dip in the pool, but Angela was a mess. An hour wasn't enough time to dry and style her tresses, and her hair reverted to its natural frizzy texture. Her eyes were bloodshot from pool water, so she was obliged to don a pair of glasses. She had managed to apply some lipstick and sunscreen. Thus, unadorned, she looked like the old Angela, the lass who adored Duncan from afar and had no male admirers. He was quite comfortable with this girl.
"Since we're all here, shall we?" Sunny stated, gesturing to her right, where a man dressed in a dark suit stood.
He held some sort of small radio, which he spoke into and then signaled someone below with a wave of his hand. Their hostess pulled Duncan towards the man and the others followed. A stone stairway became visible as they drew close to the servant. Looking down, he could see a series of switchbacks carved into the cliff that led to a small beach. Another of Sunny's employees stood there on the sand, beside a small boat.
She tugged on his arm and the group descended, led by their hostess. The route was steep in some places, and Duncan did not dare enjoy the view or turn around to see how the others fared, although he assumed they also walked arm in arm. This was starting to feel like a double date with Sunny as his partner.
As soon as they reached the shore, he felt grains of fine sand working their way into his shoes. It was a short stroll to the boat where Sunny's employee helped the ladies into the vessel without a word. Once the females were situated near the middle and widest part of the boat, the man retrieved a large parasol from a compartment in the bow, opened it and passed the umbrella to Sunny.
Angus and Duncan stood side by side, gazing at the boat before them. It was wooden with benches for seats and a motor at the stern. Someone had painted the outside a bright white with a thick cerulean blue stripe along each edge. Angus took his shoes off and tossed them in the vessel and rolled up his pants. He managed to step inside the boat without getting too wet. Duncan followed and Sunny's employee pushed the boat away from the white sand beach, leaping inside at the last possible moment. The man did get wet, but made his way to the back of the boat without comment and fired up the outboard engine.
Soon the boat zipped away from the villa and private beach. Sea spray cooled everyone as they bounced over small swells. Angela huddled close to her new mentor and both laughed with each rise and slap the craft made over the waves. They headed towards a yacht moored about a kilometer away.
As they neared the ship, Duncan estimated its size at more than 60 meters. Sleek and aerodynamic in shape, the boat had three floors above water, and trim painted to match their small wooden vessel. Their ferry slowed as it approached the liner and circled to the rear of the yacht where white clad, male staff awaited. Large letters, painted in blue script, spelled Sunny Days across the back of the craft.
"Welcome aboard," a man who appeared to be the captain greeted Sunny and her guests.
Everyone was helped from the dinghy and as it sped away, back towards the shore, Duncan noticed the same script letters, only smaller in scale, on its stern spelling out Sunny Skies.
"This way, everyone," a steward directed, and led them up a flight of stairs to a covered deck lined with padded lounges and a glossy teak table at the center.
Another shipmate met them, holding a tray of drinks.
"Please enjoy our signature cocktail, Sunshine, before luncheon," the head steward said.
The glass of Sunshine was refreshing and delicious. Duncan detected a variety of citrus juices and a hint of mint in the beverage. He guessed it contained Vodka as well. He eased himself onto one of the lounges as the yacht got underway. Sunny sat beside him, while Angus and Angela moved to the seats across the deck.
"I thought we'd cruise up and down the coast for a couple of hours, so everyone can get a good look at Costa del Sol. We'll stop every so often in case anyone would like a dip in the ocean," their hostess announced.
"Thank you, Sunny. This is a wonderful treat," Angus said.
She beamed and Duncan thought he saw her flutter her eyelashes in his brother's direction.
"What do you think of my little surprise, Duncan?" Sunny asked, giving his thigh a squeeze, just above the knee.
He jumped, almost spilling Sunshine all over himself.
"Careful, Sunny," Angus said with a chuckle. "Duncan's rather ticklish."
He was enjoying his older brother's discomfort. Duncan deserved it, after pushing him in the pool. Now he was sure she fluttered her eyelashes at his brother. She had the nerve to blush as well. What an actress.
"Really? I hadn't noticed," she replied.
Duncan was about to tell her what he thought of her surprise when interrupted by the steward, "Luncheon is served on the Lido Deck. If you would follow me," he said.
The group was met with views of the dramatic coast as they strolled down a glass enclosed deck on the starboard side of the ship. Thin strips of land, dotted with hotels and houses, protruded out into the Mediterranean. These often ended in a massive, steep upheaval of stone and soil. Duncan tore his eyes from the windows and concentrated on the steps in front of him. Once on the Lido Deck, everyone took a seat around a table dressed in white linens, silver, and crystal. Pastel painted starfish drifted down the center of the dining table, surrounded by luminescent half clam shells and strings of pearls. The table was set for six.
Just as a steward poured water for each guest, Duncan heard the chop, chop, chop of helicopter blades. He raised his eyebrows at Sunny.
"That would be Nigel and Frogo," she said, waving her hand towards the unoccupied seats. She continued, "They have business to attend to before the gala this evening, but wanted to join us for lunch."
So, the yacht was equipped with a helipad. Duncan wondered what a dinghy like this might cost. Soon, the late guests appeared, all smiles. Sunny introduced Nigel to Angus and Angela while Frogo shook Duncan's hand. He hoped Sunny would behave now that her ex-husband was here.
Stewards served salads as soon as everyone took their seats.
"Mixed mountain greens, grape and pearl tomatoes in a Parmesan cup with orange vinaigrette," staff announced.
A crunchy netting of Parmesan cheese formed the vessel that held small green and purple lettuces, along with tiny yellow and red tomatoes. The dressing consisted of fresh squeezed orange juice, grape seed oil, fresh herbs, and sautéed shallots. Nigel directed the conversation, discussing how tonight's gala would raise money for the academy, and calling everyone by their Christian names. He had a way of making one feel as though he or she were a lifelong friend.
The subsequent course consisted of thin slices of cold jamón ibérico, served with piping hot fresh bread and sweet fig jam. Sunny talked about the various luminaries who would be present that night. After staff cleared the plates, the chef appeared and asked how everyone enjoyed their meal so far. He was young, well groomed, and well spoken. The excitement he expressed regarding his food was contagious, quite the contrast to Mondo. He explained how the jamón ibérico was the world's finest and costliest ham, produced right in the mountains of Spain. He described the black-hoofed pig, its environment, and foraging habits.
"The government protects oak tree groves because the swine grow fa
t on their acorns," he informed the guests. The chef went on to announce the next dish, "Angulas in garlic and red chili oil," as stewards placed shallow bowls of what looked like pasta before the group.
This dish smelled wonderful. Angus tucked in when the aroma, lifted by steam from his plate, hit his nostrils. Duncan took his time, savoring the victuals, as he had filled his stomach with the bread served in the prior course. The spicy chili oil was something he hadn't experienced with pasta and the effect was pleasing, although the rocking of the yacht unsettled his stomach. He noticed that Angela just picked at her food while Sunny, per her norm, ate next to nothing. Frogo and Nigel devoured theirs at an even pace.
"The pasta was brilliant," Angus said, cleaning his plate. He continued without pausing, "I've never had any quite like that. I didn't know pasta was popular here in Spain. I've had Mondo's paella, and it was superb, but I think I might prefer this to rice."
Sunny peered at Angus the way an indulgent mother might view her spoiled child and reached for his hand, giving it a squeeze. She smiled at length at him as Frogo and Nigel glanced back and forth between themselves, Sunny, and Angus. Duncan grew uncomfortable before Sunny, at last, spoke
"Angulas is not pasta, Angus. It's a Spanish delicacy."
At the word delicacy, Duncan knew he was in trouble. The captain had slowed the boat's speed during lunch and it swayed side to side in a way that adversely affected his equilibrium and his tummy.
She continued, "Angulas are skinned baby eels."
By the time Sunny let skinned tumble from her lips, Duncan was out of his seat and lurching over the nearest railing. It wasn't a pretty sight, nor were the accompanying reverberations at all appetizing. The group skipped the dessert course.
* * * * * *
Duncan stretched out on his beach towel and glanced at Angela sleeping next to him, then at Angus swimming in the turquoise water. Sunny had insisted the three experience the secluded cove near her villa as the weekend's last hurrah. The pilot of Sunny Skies ferried them here and remained anchored a short distance off shore. The white sand beach, accessible only by boat, and surrounded by cliffs, was stunning. No one intruded on their party, and the secluded spot seemed like a paradise. The only sounds to be heard were those made by the gentle waves lapping against the shore. They had already explored a sea cave on the right side of the shoreline while the tide was out and snorkeled in the tiny bay, spotting a few colorful fish. Duncan thought this might be one of the most beautiful spots on earth.
Exhausted from last night's gala and looking as though she'd been up all night, Angela chose to sleep in the sun, while Angus exercised in the water. Duncan tried to get forty winks as well, but couldn't relax. His mind worked on the case.
Who was Ella, really? The bulk of what he knew about her came from Mondo via his mum. His instincts told him her roommate at university might have more insight, but no one had been able to locate Betty Gruber, and she seemed to vanish after Ella's marriage.
Angela rolled over onto her back. Something in the girl's DNA allowed her to bronze easily. She had already attained a healthy glow.
Without opening her eyes, she said, "I'm going to contact Robert Nolan as soon as we get back. He should be able to track down the ownership of the Alcala Crane and Equipment Company."
"Are you thinking about the case when you should be enjoying this fabulous view?" Duncan scolded Angela.
"Isn't that what you're doing?" she asked.
"How did you know?"
"Because, I can hear you running your fingers through your hair and scratching your scalp. You always do that when you're pondering something," Angela explained, opening the eye nearest Duncan and squinting at him.
She let out a long sigh, closing her eye again.
"Angela, what's wrong? You don't seem like yourself. Ever since last night, you've been, well, you've appeared discouraged."
Giving voice to his observations, Duncan became concerned for his former assistant. Angela was the perky type, not a gloomy Gertrude kind of lass. She should have been over the moon last night. Sunny had introduced her to every eligible rich man at the event and seen to it that she was the bell of the ball.
He added, "You know, you looked lovely last night, in that Chanel cocktail dress. I'm beginning to see why you're so taken with Sunny," he added, trying to cheer her.
"Johan rang me last night. He wasn't too pleased to discover I was on holiday with you and your brother when he was not invited."
Duncan felt a hard knot form in his stomach and his throat tighten. Uncomfortable with this love quadrangle, he didn't know what to say.
After a minute of silence, he asked, "Is he pushing you for an answer?"
Angela took a deep breath. Duncan was keenly aware of her every movement and each inflection in her voice.
"It looks like it's heading that way. He says that at our age it shouldn't take years to decide. He's been wonderful and we do enjoy each other's company. We both want a family and he is devoted to me. Johan's finances are stable and he wants to take care of me," she concluded.
"Then what's the problem?" Duncan asked, perturbed at hearing Johan's good qualities.
The mention of the Swede's financial situation also stung. Another sigh escaped Angela and she sat up on her towel.
"The problem is," she said, rising to her feet, "he's not you." She strolled towards the water, calling back over her shoulder, "Until I figure this out, I'm afraid I won't be very good company."
He watched her paddle out to Angus and the two began swimming across the cove together. A vision of Angela in last night's black halter top cocktail dress loomed in his mind. The skirt had a bit of a flounce when she moved across the floor and something in the top's fabric shimmered. He should have asked her to dance instead of letting all those billionaire basket cases monopolize her.
- 15 -
The Temple of Wisdom & Knowledge
"Hallo, Nigel? It's Duncan."
"Well hello, Duncan. How are you?"
"I'm fine, Sir, and I'm sorry to trouble you so soon after Costa Del Sol, but you'd already left when I realized I would need to visit Salamanca."
"Oh?"
"Yes. We've hit so many dead ends here, I'm certain there's something to learn at the university Ella Peña attended."
"So, you're convinced it's not a simple accident?"
"Appears not to be, based upon failure rates of the crane's lift lever. I was hoping you might be able to clear a path for me at the university. You see, I'm certain I'd get farther, faster, if I had some clout behind me."
He could hear Nigel exhale on the other end of the line.
"That won't be a problem, Duncan. I'm on the board. When were you planning on visiting?"
"Today," he replied.
He already knew which board seats Nigel occupied from the biographies supplied at their initial meeting in Edinburgh.
"All right. I'll make a call. Begin with the president's office. Let her know what you need and she'll direct you to the correct departments."
"Thank you very much, Nigel," Duncan said, stunned.
He had no idea he'd get to start his inquiry at the Spanish university with the president. He put the phone down and made his way to his Margaret's apartment. He'd come into work early, in order to avoid everyone else and have a word with his mum. Knowing she was an early riser, he tapped on her door. After a minute, he prepared to knock again, when she opened her door a sliver, peeking out to see who was there.
"Ah, Duncan, come in," she whispered, poking her head into the hall and glancing both ways. "How was your weekend?"
"Fine, but I worried about you," he said, giving her a hug.
Margaret, still dressed in her robe, raised an eyebrow at her son. Her expression gave him an awkward feeling and he ran his mouth in a stream-of-consciousness mode.
"Angus suggested sending for Harold. Said if you revealed him as your son, Mondo would run screaming for the mountains in the north."
"That's
a horrid way to talk about your brother," Margaret said, folding her arms across her chest. She continued, "It's also not a nice way to speak about your mum. I've loved your father since I first laid eyes on him. All these years and I've never so much as looked sideways at another man. Shame on you and Angus!"
She was tapping her foot now and gathering steam. As usual, he got the blame for something Angus did. Warning bells went off in Duncan's head and he realized he needed to take action to prevent a blow up or a dressing down.
"All right, Mum. Not to worry. It's Mondo I don't trust. He seems sweet on you. He's never accepted a sous chef the way he welcomed you into the fold, or should I say into the Inner Sanctum."
Margaret Dewar laughed in spite of herself. She'd heard Armondo refer to part of his kitchen that way. Duncan was relieved to see her anger diffused.
"Why does he call you Peasant? I don't like that," she said.
"I don’t know, something about our first meeting. I must have rubbed him the wrong way. I ventured into his Sanctum by accident," Duncan replied. He added, "How did you get him to like you, Mum?"
"I was honest with him," Margaret said, pulling a stray curl behind her ear. "I told him I had plenty of experience as a caterer for small groups, but no real restaurant training. I mentioned my work in the kirk's kitchen. It's an industrial kitchen you know, and how… " Margaret paused as if searching for the correct words.
"How what?"
"How the new vicar asked me to give up the position of hospitality chief in favor of his wife, after all my years of service!"
Margaret's words streamed out with no little emotion.
"Oh, Mum," he said, trying to commiserate with her.
He'd heard one sermon from the new vicar and liked it, something about perseverance. In fact, he'd committed one of the theme verses from that sermon to memory, For by You I can run through a troop, by my God I can leap over a wall. Duncan sometimes quoted that verse to himself during a difficult workout or during dark times when he thought about Caroline. He didn't share that information with his mum now, though. Their old vicar retired a few months ago. He now saw why Mondo liked her. They'd both been given raw deals recently. He hoped that explained the extra attention the chef showered upon Margaret.
Mystery: The Cook's Comeuppance: A Duncan Dewar Mystery of Murder and Romantic Suspense (Duncan Dewar Mysteries Book 3) Page 16