“It was none of my business,” she said, firmly. “I did notice that they seemed less close than previously. But I had been expecting it. They rushed into things, and I’d have been very surprised if there had not been some kind of reaction at some point.”
She looked sharply at him.
“You may have heard that Helena was fond of Adrien. She was, very much so, although I knew it would never come to anything. Helena doesn’t appear emotional on the surface, but underneath she is a deeply loving girl. She was upset when she heard about the marriage, but then she got to know Juliana and they became great friends. If you are thinking that Helena had anything to do with Juliana being pushed, I can tell you now that you are barking up the wrong tree. She is not a violent or vicious person. Neither is she avaricious.”
Aware of Sylvia’s cool gaze, Alistair wondered about her. It was difficult to see Helena pushing Juliana, either for money or a sense of thwarted love, although physically she was perfectly capable. Sylvia, on the other hand, was a different proposition. As she moved off to bring the wheeled chair for her husband, who was beginning to look tired, he watched her. She was fiercely protective of her family, he could see that himself. Enough to try to intervene on her daughter’s behalf? She must surely have noticed the estrangement between husband and wife. Had she perhaps taken advantage of the situation to remove at least one obstacle from Helena’s objective?
The evening drew to a close soon afterwards. Despite his nap earlier, Alistair fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow and slept soundly until the next morning. After breakfast he took a call from his contact at the Yard, and then took himself off to the Island. Geoffrey was waiting for him in the morning room. There was a fire in the grate, and with the sun shining through the large windows, the room was snug and warm. They settled into chairs by the window, with a tray of coffee and a plate of fresh lemon biscuits.
“Thank you for seeing me,” Alistair said. Geoffrey waved this off.
“I am more than happy to welcome you again,” he said. “Anyone here will tell you that time weighs heavily on my hands. Despite the serious nature of the problem, it has been pleasant to have something to get my teeth into. I’ve been thinking a great deal since that night that Juliana recovered her memory.”
He paused and looked straight at his guest.
“I know that you must have my own family on your list of suspects. But I can promise that I will be honest about what I know.” He gave a sly grin. “In fact, can I take it that you have my own name down there?”
He looked a little disappointed as Alistair laughed and shook his head.
“I am as certain as I can be that you had nothing to do with the attempt on Juliana’s life,” he said. “I have ascertained from a number of people that you were extremely ill at that time, in fact were confined to bed and quite unable to get about, even to walk about your house.”
He had checked this out with William the previous evening.
“I think it most unlikely that you left the house and walked to the Roscarrock in an oncoming storm,” he finished, “then got yourself back without being discovered, and without making yourself significantly sicker than you already were.”
“Well, when you put it that way,” said Geoffrey, and gave a laugh himself. “Lord, I know I gave them a scare that time. I was so ill, I was not even permitted to go the church for her funeral.”
He looked troubled for a moment.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about it,” he said. “How easily they decided that it was Juliana. And that it was an accident. It seems like fate was conspiring to prevent her discovery.”
Alistair was silent. Someone had been conspiring, certainly. He was unsure about what to say, but Geoffrey continued, looking over shrewdly.
“The body was deliberate, wasn’t it?” he asked. “It was not just coincidence. That is what you are thinking, am I correct?”
Alistair took the decision to tell him the truth. William Saxby had vouched for the man, and he trusted William’s judgement. He also was keen for a sounding board, and he thought that Geoffrey Clevedon was a good subject for that.
“I believe so. Although I cannot work out yet if it was directly connected to Juliana’s disappearance, or simply someone taking advantage.”
Geoffrey’s good eye closed for a moment, in painful recognition of what Alistair’s acknowledgement meant.
“Dear God,” he said finally. “Do you know who it was?”
“I think so,” said Alistair.
“Was it…?” Geoffrey started to ask, then stopped, staring out of the window, as if not speaking the words would render the idea worthless.
Alistair took a quick look at him but did not reply. Finally Geoffrey looked over.
“I have had a lot of spare time to think about this. Was it Gwenna Black?”
“There is very clear indication that the body is that of Gwenna,” replied Alistair with a nod. “Apart from the timing, which made me suspicious, there was an old injury that fits with an accident Gwenna had when she was younger. But the most important thing is that she was likely strangled. Before…”
He tailed off here, realising exactly what had come after that. Up until now he had refused to consider it. Geoffrey looked at him with compassion.
“Before she was butchered, you mean,” he said.
Alistair nodded, relieved that his companion was so quick on the uptake.
“At the very least, a body being found and taken for Juliana would mean that the police investigation would be over and the file closed.” Geoffrey nodded, thinking fast. “That would explain why there was no mention of her being missing when the police in Kent and London made their original enquiries. With the file closed, she was no longer missing. Not what was originally intended, I suppose, but it all seems to have worked out for someone. Until Andrew Fenton recognised Juliana up in London, and that was a long shot.”
“It was. She might easily never have been found, and without the stimulus of her return to Sancreed and the household at Trevennen, she might never have regained her memory,” said Alistair.
The two men drank their coffee but ignored the biscuits.
“So, that narrows down your list of suspects,” mused Geoffrey, a look of distaste on his face. “There would be no reason for anyone not closely associated with the house to do that. Who do you have?”
“Adrien, Fancy Evans, Jamie, Damaris,” replied Alistair, with no need to look at his notebook. He looked a little embarrassed, but continued. “Your wife and daughters. Simon Cundy. The staff, I suppose…”
“No, they were all away that afternoon. Ours as well. A wedding, I think. All gave each other alibis,” Geoffrey said, and looked thoughtful. “Well, let’s look at Adrien first. You know, I don’t know that I’ve ever seen someone so distraught. He might have been faking, I suppose, but if so, then he is a hell of an actor. He went away for a time, but since then he has remained in Sancreed.”
“No other emotional attachments?” queried Alistair.
“No, there’s been no one else,” said Geoffrey. “Not that I’ve heard of, anyway. You know, I did wonder about him not noticing that Juliana was missing that night, though. I know he said that he slept in another room that one night. Bit unlucky, I thought.”
Alistair related Adrien’s account of his evening, about meeting David Roskelly, then driving up to the moors, and not wanting another argument with Juliana when he returned. Geoffrey looked interested.
“You said if he was faking, then he was putting on a perfect performance,” continued Alistair. “I’ve known him for nearly twenty years. He never made it past the odd walk-on part in our school plays. Lousy actor. No imagination to speak of. I think that may have been what started off the initial trouble between the two of them. Adrien is straight as a die. If it’s something that he wouldn’t do himself, he has difficulty understanding that someone else might not be as scrupulous.”
“So let’s move on. Fancy, hmmmm. Unlikely, in my
opinion, although not because she bore any great affection for Juliana. If she’d been poisoned, perhaps…”
Alistair gave a grin at the regret in Geoffrey’s voice. It did seem to be the reaction of several people he had talked to.
“Jamie, perhaps… you know, I could see him carrying it out. Volatile young man, under his charm. And there was the money, of course. But he was away from the house, on the train long before Juliana went outside. Margaret herself put him on the train. She was worried about him, apparently, and stayed on the platform, chatting to him. So he’s out.”
“No, the times don’t work for Jamie. His landlady saw him come in around nine p.m.,” said Alistair, remembering the police report. “What about his sister?”
“Damaris can be a strange girl,” said Geoffrey thoughtfully. “I just don’t know if I see her trying to kill Juliana. She loved her, I think. Juliana treated her like a sister, and I rather thought Damaris was enjoying the contact with another woman in the house. But, she’s a determined young woman. Strong, and physically capable. Same motive as her brother. Perhaps she even did it for him? She carried on with her training afterwards, so it wasn’t as if she seemed to need the money. But Jamie, well, I don’t know.”
Alistair broke in here.
“I asked Jamie about that. He says that he spent all the money he got from Juliana’s will on the hospital for Simon. I checked up and he was telling the truth.”
Geoffrey looked a little surprised.
“Actually, that explains a lot. I knew how difficult it was for Bob to find treatment for his nephew. Nowhere seemed to work,” he said. “Bob and Daphne themselves are not well-off. They did their best for Simon, but I did wonder about that clinic that finally got him well. I knew it was expensive. So Jamie paid for it? He never said anything about that.”
“He seemed uncomfortable with talking about it, even now,” replied Alistair. “But adamant that he had known exactly what he was doing, and would do so again. The bond between those two is extremely strong.”
Geoffrey considered this.
“So Damaris is a possibility. For financial gain, most likely, perhaps to help her brother. How about my family? They have to be considered, I know that, although personally I cannot believe that Sylvia or the girls would carry out such a heinous act. Physically, any of them could do it. They are all strong enough and know the cliffs like the backs of their hands. But as for motive… well, I can’t think of one. They didn’t need money. And they all liked Juliana. She was a frequent visitor at our house.”
Alistair paused. “I was told that Helena was very fond of Adrien, and was upset when he married Juliana.”
He expected Geoffrey to be angry, but the other man merely smiled a little sadly.
“My poor Helena. How she suffered over that,” he said. “She had a terrific crush on Adrien at that point, and unfortunately for her the fact was broadcast wide. Helena felt humiliated. A secret desire is one thing, people laughing behind her back was something else.”
He looked at his companion.
“She was embarrassed, certainly, but she pushed her feelings down and did her part to make Juliana welcome in our family. They developed a strong friendship, the two of them, and Helena grew out of her puppy love. If you are asking if she was capable of murder because of a broken heart, then I would have to say no. She has never forgiven Fancy, though.”
Alistair had to agree with this. Helena was easily strong enough, but he fancied that if she had in fact carried out such an attack, she would have been sure that it was done properly. He had the feeling that Damaris would have done the same. Neither was the kind to leave a task unfinished. Margaret was more likely to have struck out blindly, but attacking a friend on a clifftop did not ring true with what Alistair knew of her.
“How about Sylvia?” he ventured. “Your wife does not strike me as a vicious or hot-headed type, Geoffrey. She is calm and sure of herself. But she is obviously devoted to her family. Would she lash out to defend them?”
Geoffrey looked solemn. “Sylvia is blinkered, yes. She seems cold to outsiders, disinterested. But she is fierce in defence of the children, of me. She is devoted to her animals. She will tolerate no cruelty or malice to living things. She was hurt because Helena was hurt. But she did not blame Juliana for that. She knew that Helena would grow out of it. No, Sylvia was angry with Fancy, for making fun of Helena, and spreading the story among other people.”
Alistair sighed. “So if it had been Mrs Evans that was pushed, we might have to consider your family. However, it doesn’t sound like they would have tried to kill Juliana. Although technically any of your family could have carried out the attack, I cannot see a motive for it. Hurt feelings don’t lead people to kill their friends. The girls did receive money, like the Evans twins, I have not discounted that, but…”
He shook his head here. Geoffrey looked troubled. “There’s one other person we haven’t discussed,” he said. “Simon. You mentioned him.”
He paused here.
“It would have been handy, wouldn’t it? For it to be Simon. He had such problems, back then. He did have issues with his temper. Bad mood swings, terrible times when I know Bob thought he might do real damage. He couldn’t seem to settle. Perhaps he came across Juliana on the cliff. It was stormy, he had an attack for some reason and pushed her. The letters too—we didn’t mention them, but if the body was faked, then so were the letters, one way or another. He could have sent them from London. Do we know where he was that weekend?”
“He was in Sancreed that day. Your daughters both saw him, and Sylvia remembers him being at Trevennen the next morning, during the search. In fact, she said that he seemed agitated. But as to the letters—he went to the clinic, didn’t he?” asked Alistair. “Afterwards.”
“Not for a month or two,” said Geoffrey, tight-lipped. “I seem to remember it being summer when he left for Scotland. Round about Midsummer, in fact. So nearly three months later. And he was in hospital, not prison. Lots of comings and goings. Easy enough to ask someone to post something for him.”
Alistair finished his coffee. “I’m also wondering how and where Gwenna Black was killed,” he said. “It would be a difficult thing to do, to hide a body up at the house, if you could get her there at all. Then to get the corpse down to the sea. Was she butchered at the house, or closer to the water? This all points again to Simon Cundy. He was friends with her, wasn’t he? And he knows the coast like the back of his hand. I need to talk to him.”
“Good luck with that,” said Geoffrey. “You can try up at the hut, he’s more likely to be there than anywhere. But you’ll not be doing that today. There’ll be a storm soon, I think. The sky was red as a robin’s breast this morning when I awoke this morning.”
“Really?” asked Alistair. “Surely not. The sky looks so clear.”
“There’s a touch of brass about the clouds over there in the west,” said Geoffrey sagely.
As he spoke, the gong rang for lunch. Geoffrey insisted that Alistair join them for the meal, and it was not until mid-afternoon that he left the Island and made his way back to the house.
***
On the terrace the remains of post-luncheon coffee were on the low table, sundry garden chairs alongside. The people themselves were scattered, all searching for something.
“Where is that noise coming from?” asked Juliana. She gave a quick grin at the newcomer, who took a seat, wondering what the fuss was about. “And more to the point, what is making it?”
Damaris returned from poking around in the shrubbery. Her hair had caught on the branches and was pulled out of its neat knot, falling in front of her face. She brushed it back impatiently.
“I’m sure it’s a cat,” she said. “But I can’t find it in there. Not a trace.”
Jamie gave a start and pointed up.
“It is a cat! The wretched thing is on the roof!”
He was right. The cat was sitting right above the gutter, in the dip between roof and the t
ower wall. It screamed again, the piteous sound drifting down to the collective on the ground. Now they could see it, it was obvious from where the noise came.
“Get a ladder,” said Damaris, pinning her hair back. “Perhaps we can get the cat from the top of it. It’s too far away to get out from the window, and there’s no way to get out on the roof from the attic just there.”
“Won’t work, it’s too high. The roofers always bring their own ladder when they do work here,” replied Adrien. “None of ours will reach all the way.”
They stood around for a moment, debating. Jamie rolled up his sleeves.
“Jamie, what are you doing?” asked Damaris.
“I’m going up to get that cat,” he said. “There’s something wrong with it. It must be hurt. Can someone get ready to give me a hand when I get back down? Or come up after me?”
Adrien was silent. Alistair saw Juliana look at her husband, but Adrien shook his head.
“Can’t, Jules,” he said quietly.
She looked at him hard. He had been sequestered with Alistair for a while after breakfast and had come from the meeting looking slightly sick. He still looked pale, his usually olive skin had a pinched look to it, and added now was a twist to his mouth of what looked like jealousy.
“He can’t climb like that because of his dicky leg,” said Damaris carelessly.
Juliana could have smacked herself for forgetting. [2]Adrien’s leg wound was not often in evidence. But she had walked into the bathroom that morning when he was brushing his teeth, surprising him in only his bath towel, and had been shocked at the sight of the wicked scar that ran around his leg, eating into his flesh like an ivy vine on soft brick. She could understand how a climb such as Jamie was proposing was out of the question for him, and wished she had thought before speaking.
Jamie took grasp of the bottom of the trellis, testing it carefully before setting foot onto the bottom rung. The trellis was sturdy and had been well fixed into the wall, and between that and the wisteria vine he advanced rapidly.
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