‘Extraordinary,’ Virginia Penrhos said. ‘Can you believe it?’
Inspector Young’s conference had broken up in disarray ten minutes earlier. After calming herself with a stiff drink, she’d bumped into Rachel again in the lobby.
‘Where Jacob Flint is concerned,’ Rachel murmured, ‘I’ve learned to suspend my disbelief.’
Virginia’s bushy eyebrows shot up. ‘You know him?’
‘Our paths have crossed in London. An impetuous young man.’
‘So I gather.’ Virginia frowned. ‘Did he follow you up here?’
Rachel smiled sweetly. ‘He carries a torch for my maid. A very pretty girl, Martha. Far too good for him.’
‘Have you any idea why he’s so convinced that this man Bellamy wasn’t murdered by his mistress? It seems utterly ridiculous. The detective made it as plain as a pikestaff that she committed the crime in a fit of jealous rage.’
‘He did,’ Rachel admitted.
‘The woman had the motive and presumably plenty of opportunity.’ Virginia was warming to her theme. ‘Not only that, she fled the scene in the company of another man. Highly incriminating.’
‘True.’ Rachel sighed. ‘I suppose the police are bound to make further inquiries. I don’t even have a complete alibi myself. Not for the whole of yesterday afternoon.’
She gave Virginia a rueful smile. The artist responded with a decisive shake of the head.
‘Inspector Young is fond of his own voice, but that doesn’t mean he’s such an idiot that he’d suspect you, my dear. What motive could you possibly have for bludgeoning Bellamy to death? You never met him, did you?’
‘Never,’ Rachel said. ‘Not even to have my fortune told.’ She put her hand to her mouth, as if she’d committed a faux pas.
Virginia smiled grimly. ‘Don’t worry, my dear. Nothing he claimed to see in our palms or in that crystal provoked me into bashing him over the head.’
‘Honestly, I wasn’t suggesting that you—’
‘Of course. And you’re right. Until the killer is safely behind bars, there will be endless stupid speculation.’ She took a breath. ‘The question is this. Why would anyone want to kill the man? Revenge, jealousy, greed. Those are the reasons why one person takes another’s life. This Lescott woman is the obvious candidate. A fiery character, by all accounts. The journalist must be barking up the wrong tree. He looks very young. Wet behind the ears, frankly.’
‘Very wet,’ Rachel said. ‘As I understand it, Bellamy came to Hemlock Bay recently. Any of us might have crossed paths with him in the past…’
Her voice trailed away, as if she’d been struck by an embarrassing thought. Virginia gave her a searching look.
‘I know what’s crossed your mind,’ she said quietly. ‘Ffion and I are Welsh. So was Bellamy. Apparently, he came from Bangor, not far from Llangefni, where I grew up. But I swear to you, neither of us had ever heard of Gareth Bellamy, let alone his wretched nom de plume, until we arrived in Hemlock Bay. In case you’re wondering, we certainly didn’t recognise him when he told our fortunes. Because we’d never seen him before. The man meant nothing to us. Nothing.’
As she spoke, her voice had become increasingly strident. Rachel bowed her head.
‘Please forgive me. I didn’t mean to imply… it’s just that I’m sure the police will ask us all questions. Whether we knew him, where we were yesterday afternoon…’
Virginia snorted. ‘The good inspector may be in for a shock. Ffion and I were taking advantage of the lovely weather. Relaxing on the terrace in the Sun and Air Garden. Making friends with the watchman’s Alsatian. We miss not having a dog of our own here. Are you a dog lover, Rachel?’
Before Rachel could answer, Louis Carson and his wife emerged from the smoking room. On catching sight of the two women, Carson seemed eager to get on his way but Rachel intercepted them.
‘An astonishing turn of events, Mr Carson! What do you make of it?’
‘Indeed it is. Remarkable.’
He tugged at his tie. After their previous brief encounter, Rachel guessed he was wondering whether to indulge in polite conversation or come up with an excuse to escape. She made the decision for him by addressing his wife.
‘And you must be Mrs Carson! My maid met you the other day.’
Pearl Carson smiled. ‘Martha, isn’t that her name? A very pleasant girl.’
Carson surrendered to the inevitable. ‘Dearest, this is Miss Savernake, our neighbour from Bay View.’
As the two women shook hands, Rachel said, ‘Martha told me you gave her complimentary tickets to the Sun and Air Garden.’
Pearl Carson laughed. ‘I thought you might both enjoy yourselves there. It’s very discreet. Don’t you agree, Miss… Penrhos, isn’t it? You live in the lighthouse, don’t you?’
Virginia nodded. ‘The Sun and Air Garden is an oasis of calm. Given what happened yesterday at Paradise, any opportunity of peace and quiet is to be relished.’
‘The inspector seems flummoxed,’ Pearl Carson said.
‘Out of his depth, I fear,’ her husband said.
‘I hope this ghastly business is soon cleared up. The longer the police allow it to drag on, the worse it will be for everyone.’
Virginia Penrhos was brusquely unsympathetic. ‘You’ll get more visitors, not fewer. People flock to a crime scene like vultures to carrion.’
Before either of the Carsons could reply, Sir Harold Jackson emerged from the smoking room. He nodded to Louis Carson and exchanged a smile with Carson’s wife. Was it her imagination, Rachel wondered, or did the man’s very presence cause Pearl Carson to brighten?
‘The chief constable has asked Young for a word in private,’ Sir Harold said. ‘The inspector’s detective work isn’t up to snuff, that’s painfully obvious. He spotted a simple explanation for the crime and swallowed it hook, line, and sinker, without bothering to check whether it stood up to scrutiny.’
‘Is it definite that the Lescott woman didn’t kill Bellamy?’ Carson asked.
‘Apparently she and her beau were drinking at the Fisherman’s Arms when the crime was committed.’
‘Can the medical people be precise about the time of death?’
‘They don’t need to be so far as Winnie Lescott is concerned. There was hardly a moment yesterday when she was out of sight of at least one other person.’
‘Among that class of person,’ Carson said sorrowfully, ‘alibis can be bought and sold like a packet of cigarettes. Surely she is still the most credible suspect?’
‘Unfortunately,’ Sir Harold Jackson said, ‘these things don’t arrange themselves for our convenience.’
‘Where does that leave us?’ Pearl Carson asked.
‘In some difficulty, my dear Mrs Carson, I’m sorry to tell you,’ he said grimly. ‘You see, the unpalatable truth is that if Winifred Lescott didn’t kill Bellamy, someone else did.’
‘Which means…’ she began before he finished the sentence for her.
‘… that unless the culprit has gone on the run, we have a murderer in our midst. Here in the heart of Hemlock Bay.’
*
‘May I offer you a lift home, ladies?’ Sir Harold asked.
He’d followed Virginia and Rachel through the revolving glass doors. Outside the drizzle was getting heavier. He indicated his Bentley, parked in a reserved space next to the main entrance.
‘Kind of you,’ Virginia said, ‘but I don’t want to take you out of your way.’
‘No trouble at all. I’m heading in your direction. Sadie is resting this afternoon and I don’t want to get under her feet. It’ll do me good to take a walk and fill my lungs with sea air. Even in damp and blustery weather, an hour or two roaming around the countryside always does me a power of good. Who knows, it may even help me to make some sense of this rotten mess about Bellamy.’
‘In that case, thank you. Ffion is under the weather herself, so I intend to spend the afternoon painting.’
Sir Harold squinted at the leaden skies. ‘Not the loveliest outlook today, I’m afraid.’
Virginia laughed as he held open the rear door for her. ‘So much the better. One of the many advantages of surrealism is that I can conjure a tantalising work of art from the most unpromising visual material.’
‘I’ll take your word for it.’ He turned to Rachel. ‘Care to join us, Miss Savernake?’
‘You’re very kind,’ Rachel said as he ushered her into the back of the car. ‘Do you have a theory of your own about the murder?’
‘I’m at a complete loss, I must confess. The whole business seems unfathomable. Thankfully, the chief constable realises the time has come for decisive action.’
‘What sort of action?’ Virginia asked.
Sir Harold coughed. ‘I’m sure neither of you ladies would betray a confidence…’
‘Perish the thought,’ Rachel said.
‘Major Busby spoke to me off the record, in my capacity as chairman of the local magistrates. He wants Young to step back from leading the investigation. The poor devil has done his best, but this is a different kettle of fish from arresting drunken youths on Morecambe promenade. Young lacks experience of a complex murder investigation carried out in the glare of national publicity.’
‘Does the chief constable believe the case is complex?’ Virginia asked. ‘Sordid, yes. Such a crude act of violence. It’s not as if the murderer concocted an ingenious plan.’
‘Whoever it was vanished from the pleasure grounds without a trace.’
‘Paradise is always busy. With any luck, witnesses will soon come forward.’
‘Let’s hope so. At present, all the signs are that this crime isn’t as straightforward as Young led everyone to believe. Murder is too serious a crime for anyone to stand on ceremony. Let alone be distracted by parochial pride. So the chief constable has decided it’s time to call in expert help.’
‘Scotland Yard?’ Rachel asked.
‘Correct.’
‘Isn’t that premature? Not to mention harsh?’ Virginia shook her head. ‘Bellamy was murdered only twenty-four hours ago. Even if the local man did fasten on to the Lescott woman too quickly, it’s foolish to panic.’
Sir Harold started the car. There was plenty of room in the back, but Rachel was conscious of Virginia’s bulky frame pressing against her.
‘It’s imperative not to let the trail go cold. The first twenty-four hours of an investigation are vital. If Lescott’s daughter didn’t kill the fortune teller, a great deal of valuable time has already been lost. The real culprit has been allowed to commit a savage crime and get away with it. Scot-free.’
‘You’re assuming the killer is a man?’ Rachel said quietly.
‘What?’ He glanced over his shoulder. ‘Oh yes, indeed, Miss Savernake. That’s my theory, for what it’s worth. I don’t regard this as a woman’s crime.’
He turned his attention back to the road as he navigated the slight bend at Shore Gardens. They left the esplanade and turned into Beggarman’s Lane.
‘You don’t?’ Rachel asked.
‘No. The killing was too brutal. Too impulsive.’
‘You suppose a woman would be subtler?’
‘Certainly. That’s why so many poisoners are female. This is a different sort of crime.’
‘Unpremeditated?’ Virginia suggested.
‘Looks to me as if the fellow had a row with Bellamy, and in a fit of uncontrollable rage picked up the crystal ball because it was the weapon nearest at hand. What he did may have been entirely out of character. Good afternoon, Mrs Stones!’ He waved a gloved hand as they passed a woman on her way into town, canvas shopping bag in hand. ‘If so, perhaps he is gathering the courage to confess.’
‘I hope so too, Sir Harold,’ Virginia said. ‘Although frankly someone capable of extreme violence may not have such a tender conscience. As long as bringing in someone from London doesn’t cause further delay. The uncertainty is crippling, especially for anyone who is naturally sensitive. Like Ffion, for instance. She has been in a state of extreme nervous tension ever since we heard the news.’
‘Quite so. This morning I impressed on the chief constable the need to ensure that our peaceful community isn’t condemned to live in fear a moment longer than necessary. Between you and me, he spoke to the Metropolitan commissioner even before today’s public meeting. Frankly, that took me aback, but he’s never had great faith in Young. The man doesn’t recognise his own limitations. Reinforcements from London should arrive later today. With any luck this whole messy business will soon be sorted out and all of us can get back to normal.’
‘Except for the murderer, of course,’ Rachel said pleasantly.
He shot her a curious glance. ‘Indeed. Ah, here we are.’
The car eased to a halt outside the front gate of Bay View and Virginia said she’d get out as well. After saying their goodbyes, the two women watched the Bentley glide off down the lane.
‘The murder has upset you, as well as Miss Morris,’ Rachel murmured.
Virginia looked at her sharply. ‘Yes, perhaps more than it should have done.’
‘If the two of you are unhappy in Hemlock Bay, might you cut short your stay here?’
There was a pause. ‘You’re very shrewd, aren’t you? There’s more to you than meets the eye, I’m certain of it. And yes, I don’t mind admitting that I’ve thought about leaving.’
‘Why?’
‘The first time I ever set eyes on this place, it seemed idyllic. Lovely and tranquil, a real haven. A welcome escape from the real world.’
‘Just as your art offers a means of escape,’ Rachel said.
‘Exactly. The murder has ruined everything. Perhaps above all, it’s destroyed my illusion. The trouble is, I’m skilled in one particular art. Deceiving myself.’
Virginia seemed almost to be talking to herself. Rachel said nothing, and after a few moments the older woman straightened, as if coming to a decision.
‘No, I won’t allow myself to be stopped by the death of a man who meant nothing to me.’
‘I’m glad.’
‘Are you?’ Virginia clasped Rachel’s hand. ‘Your features really are striking, my dear. So very feminine, yet strong. Fine cheekbones, firm jaw. Have you ever modelled for an artist?’
‘Never.’
Virginia smiled. ‘Perhaps you’d be kind enough to sit for me?’
‘For you?’
‘Yes, my dear girl. Don’t worry, I shan’t interfere with your holiday, and it won’t take up too much of your time. Once I get a fuller sense of your character… I can let my imagination roam. If you’re willing to take the risk of inspiring a surrealist, that is.’
‘Are you serious? I mean, I have no experience…’
‘No modesty, now! I demand a straight yes or no. Please don’t make me beg!’
Rachel laughed. ‘You flatter me, Virginia. To be honest, there’s nothing I’d love more.’
‘Splendid! That’s settled, then.’ A pause. ‘My closest friends call me Ginny.’
‘You’re sure Miss Morris won’t mind… Ginny?’
Virginia’s tone sharpened. ‘Ffion is a delightful girl, but she is in no position to complain. I choose my subjects, no one else.’
‘How marvellous! Would tomorrow afternoon be convenient? Four o’clock?’
‘Perfect!’
‘I’ll look forward to it.’ Rachel smiled. ‘Even if you paint me as a dark, mysterious blur.’
The other woman considered her. ‘Do you know, my dear girl? That might be the perfect way to capture your air of mystery.’