Palmer-Jones 03 - Murder in Paradise (17 page)

He thought about it, looked at her. He never makes any decision on impulse, she thought. Everything’s carefully considered. Then she thought that he had been romantic and impulsive in his love for Elspeth, and she disliked Elspeth for having changed him, robbed him of spontaneity.

“I meant what I said.” He stood up, prepared to go out again. “I do trust you. Carry on if you feel you have to.”

George Palmer-Jones had no intention of going to the sale until Alec’s car drove past the school house and he saw Will’s moody, teenage face at the car window. Will had been living at Sandwick when Mary had died. He was closest to her in age. Perhaps she had confided in him. Perhaps he knew her secret. The children were out to play and he walked round to the school room to tell Jonathan Drysdale where he was going.

“It’s like a glorified jumble sale,” Jonathan said. “Everything he has to sell is trash. But they’ll all be there convinced that they’ve got a bargain.”

“I think I’ll go and see what’s going on. I might buy you a present.”

Drysdale was not amused. He went into the playground and rang the school bell with a bitter ferocity.

Will sat outside the hall, on the grass, leaning against the outside wall of the graveyard. He knew that it was a churlish and ineffective gesture to refuse to go into the sale, but he felt manipulated and frustrated. It was quite clear that his mother expected him to live on the island forever. He would have to tell her that it was impossible, and there would be a scene. He felt, too, that some important information was being kept from him. Robert’s death had not been mentioned, and when they spoke of Mary it was with anger. They expected so much of him, but gave very little in return. He was wearing binoculars and began to look at the skylarks at the edge of the stubble field below him. For a while he forgot his family and became absorbed in watching the birds in the sharp, clear light. He stared at a smaller, more compact bird which attracted then held his attention.

He was still there when George came along. George had only seen him a few times on previous visits to the islands, but the common interest in natural history was strong enough to allow the sort of easy conversation which usually comes with friendship. The boy heard him approaching, looked up, and smiled.

“I think I’ve just seen a short-toed lark,” he said. “ I was wondering if I should go up to the school and tell Jonathan. He might want to see it in his lunch break.”

“No, don’t go,” George said quickly. “ I’ll tell Jonathan when I go back.”

They watched the bird together. George confirmed the identification, then there was a relaxed and friendly silence.

“Why did you decide to come home?” George asked.

“I didn’t decide. It was decided for me.” Will put down his binoculars. “What’s going on here?” The question came out in desperation.

“Did your mother tell you about Robert?”

“She said that he had died. In a shooting accident.”

“I don’t think the police even believe that it was an accident. He was murdered. Like Mary.”

“Mary fell over the cliff.”

“She was pushed.”

George thought that Will was going to cry. It was all too much for him to take in. His arrogance had disappeared and he seemed very young.

“Why didn’t they tell me?” Will said. He was angry and upset. “Why did they hide it from me?”

“I’m the only person who is certain that it was murder.”

“Who did it?”

“I don’t know yet. I need your help. Mary had a secret. She knew something about someone on the island which would have caused so much embarrassment that she had to be prevented from telling it. I believe that Robert found out about it, too, so he had to die.”

“No,” Will said. “ It can’t have happened like that.”

“Tell me why?”

Will struggled to find the words to explain. “What matters is appearance. The whole island might know of something going on, but as long as no one admits that they know, life can continue as usual. It’s the only way, I suppose, that people have managed to live on top of each other for all these years.”

“But if Mary were to discover a secret like that, she would make a fuss about it. No one would be able to pretend, then, that they didn’t know.”

“But you don’t understand,” Will cried. “ The secret probably wasn’t terrible at all. It was probably a little thing. Certainly nothing to commit murder for. It might be a major scandal here if the teacher refuses to go to church or someone kisses someone else’s wife after having too much to drink on Friday night, but it’s not a matter of murder.”

George spoke quietly.

“You believe you know Mary’s secret, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

He put his head in his hands.

“Is it about Sylvia Drysdale and Alec?”

“How did you know?” The boy felt cheated of the drama of revelation. He was surprised and annoyed.

“As you said, it wasn’t a very well-kept secret. But no one else is prepared to talk about it. Can you tell me, in confidence, what was going on between Sylvia and Alec, and what the island, especially Maggie and Jonathan, thought about it?”

“What does it have to do with you?” Will had recovered his poise, adopted again the pose of cool experience.

“Does it matter? Do you want to protect a murderer?” The words were sharp and Will had no defence against them.

“I’ll tell you,” he said, trying to pretend that the decision to speak was his. “It won’t do any good but I’ll tell you. Do you want to go somewhere more private?”

George looked towards the hall. The people coming and going directed their attention to each other, and the goods for sale, and the turbaned Woollie Man. If anyone saw them, it would be assumed that they were birdwatching.

“No. This will do. When did it all start?”

“I don’t know exactly. Of course I was out at school until July. There was a big picnic the first fine weekend we were home—there always is—and then a dance afterwards. I didn’t notice anything. Sylvia looked lovely, but she always does. The women here say that she shows off, but it’s the way she is. She danced a lot with Alec, but they’re both fine dancers and they enjoy dancing together. She danced with other men, too. Maggie left early to put the boys to bed and later all the family came back to Sandwick for coffee and a dram. Alec wasn’t there at first and we thought he’d gone straight home to Buness. Then he came in. He was very drunk and seemed pleased with himself, boastful. You can never tell how much is true with him, and how much is wishful thinking, but he said that he’d just walked Sylvia Drysdale home. He started telling us what had happened when he saw that Uncle James was in the room and he shut up. Uncle James is the lay preacher.”

“I know,” George said. “What exactly did he say before he saw James?”

“He said that she was a good screw.” He blushed, and became a child again. “It probably never happened. He tells terrible stories.”

George ignored his embarrassment. “What happened next?” he asked.

“I don’t think very much happened. He hung around her all summer. He was always trying to find excuses to get her on her own, but it’s not easy on a place as small as this, and he just made a fool of himself. I don’t think she was really interested. She liked the admiration but she didn’t take him seriously. You can’t blame her. She was used to a more exciting life than this.”

“You mean that all this fuss has been over one incident three months ago?”

“As far as I know. Since then Sylvia’s been flirting with Alec just to annoy Maggie.”

“How has Maggie reacted to it?”

“At first she just ignored him. She thought he was all talk and no action. It’s happened before. He’s disappeared up to Ellie’s Head after a dance with a pretty young woman several times, but they’ve always been visitors to the island, so it never mattered so much. More recently I think all the gossip has been getting her down.”

“And Jonathan? Was he similarly tolerant?”

“He seemed to be. He knows that Sylvia isn’t happy here.”

George was disappointed. He had expected there to be something more. A real motive for murder. But he showed no disappointment.

“Did you notice when Mary left the hall on the night of the party?” he asked.

“No. I was playing guitar for the band. She wasn’t around in the interval.”

“What did you do in the interval?”

“I had a drink and something to eat.”

George could remember seeing him, lounging against the wall, watching the rest of the crowd with a detached, rather superior air.

“Did you notice if anyone was away for a long time before or during the interval?”

“No. I didn’t notice.”

No, George thought, you were busy wondering what people were thinking of you.

They sat in silence again watching the short-toed lark in the field. Each spike of stubble was hard and clear in the sunshine. All the colours on the bird were very bright. The hall was full now. There was no one else outside and it was very quiet.

“It must be something else,” George said, almost to himself. “There must be another secret. You don’t know what it can be?”

“No.”

Suddenly, from inside the hall, there was the sound of a scream. It was of anger and exasperation, not of pain, but it was loud enough to make the short-toed lark rise into the air before settling again farther away. Elspeth ran out of the hall towards them. Tears were streaming down her face and she took no notice of the men. She was completely absorbed in her own misery. She was wearing a calf-length skirt, and as she ran she stumbled and caught her knee on the hem. Will called after her but she took no notice. When she reached the road, he got up and hurried after her without saying a word to George.

George walked slowly towards the hall. As he reached the door Kenneth and Annie came out. Annie, too, looked as if she had been crying. Kenneth had his arm around her shoulder. They followed their daughter home, like grieving relatives following a coffin at a funeral.

Obviously everyone inside the hall had enjoyed the disturbance, yet they were shocked by it. The scene was another indication that everything was not as normal. The clothes for sale on the trestles were ignored and people stood in small groups, talking. Some of the wedding decorations were still strung over the ceiling, and with the colourful clothes, the place still had a fantastic carnival air. When George walked in, the islanders stared at him, hoping that he might have the power to satisfy their curiosity, but he took no notice and they turned back to their friends to gossip and speculate. The Woollie Man held up some violently striped towels in a last effort to attract custom, but there was no response, and he began to pile the unsold goods into suitcases.

Sarah was there, talking to Agnes, and George approached her.

“What was that about?” he asked.

“It was really strange.…” Her voice was clear and piercing and people turned to look at her, waiting for her interpretation of the incident which had taken place.

He took her arm and led her outside. The audience was hostile, resentful because they were being deprived of another free show. Sarah seemed not to notice them. She seemed as excited as all the others. Once outside she continued:

“It was really strange. Elspeth went up to the counter to buy some things for her little boy. The salesman was talking to her, joking, you know, saying how pretty she was. Then when he was giving her the change, he said he thought he recognized her and hadn’t she been on the television? She said no, of course she hadn’t. You could tell that she was hating it. She was almost shouting. But he insisted. He said he had a wonderful memory and he was sure he’d seen her face on the television. That was when she screamed and ran out.

“The funny thing was that I looked at Annie while it was going on and she was upset too.”

“The salesman wasn’t specific? He didn’t say how long ago he’d seen her or what sort of programme it was?”

She shook her head.

“No. It happened just as I told you.”

He waited until she had walked away before he went back into the hall to talk to the Woollie Man. All the customers had gone and the trestle tables were empty. A shaft of sunlight came in through the open door and showed the dust in the air and the cobwebs on the rafters. The Woollie Man answered his questions with a polite bewilderment, but he provided no more useful information. He was very sorry that he had upset the young lady. He had not meant to do that. He thought that she must be famous because he had seen her face on the television. Once a famous actress had bought from his stall in Glasgow.

“Are you based in Glasgow?”

“Yes, I travel. It’s six months since I was there, but Glasgow is my home.”

“The young lady comes from Glasgow. Perhaps you met her there.”

“Perhaps.”

He was no longer interested. He had not sold as much as he had expected and he was disappointed. He wanted to finish clearing away.

George was at the door when he turned back.

“I wonder,” he said. “Could I come out with you on the plane? I’d pay half of the charter cost.”

The man grinned.

“Sure,” he said. “Sure.”

At the school the children were out to play for lunchtime. The girls had a skipping rope and were singing a rhyme. The boys were playing spacemen. Ben Dance sat on a wall and watched the children, but made no attempt to join in.

Jonathan sat at his desk in the school room drinking a mug of coffee. He was reading the manuscript of a paper about gull population control sent by an ornithological magazine for his comments. He was concentrating so hard that he did not hear George come in.

“There’s a short-toed lark on the stubble field below the hall,” George said.

“That’s good. I’ll get down to see it after school.”

“Will Stennet found it.”

“Is he back? I’ll have to arrange the swan-ringing expedition, then.”

“I’m going out on the plane. I’ll stay on Baltasay tonight and come back on the
Ruth Isabella
tomorrow.”

“Will you see Sylvia?”

“Probably. But that’s not why I’m going.”

“Tell her that I miss her,” Jonathan said abruptly, “and that I’ll leave the island as soon as I can get another job. Before that if she’s desperate to go.”