Rachel and Virginia ran to the edge of the cliff. The drop was vertiginous. Stretched out on the rocks of Mermaid’s Grave lay the broken body of Ffion Morris. Even as they watched, a foamy wave broke over the outcrop, as if to wash the blood from the corpse.
Virginia let out a strangled cry.
‘You won’t believe me,’ Rachel said softly, ‘but it is for the best.’
‘No! You’re wrong!’ Virginia turned to face her. ‘What kind of a woman are you?’
Rachel shrugged. ‘That isn’t for me to say.’
‘You’re cold. Heartless.’
‘Am I?’
‘Doesn’t life matter to you? Ffion was young and a beauty. The world was at her feet. She had everything ahead of her.’
‘She was deeply disturbed and savage enough to beat Bellamy’s brains out. As for Louis Carson, she’d never have got the better of him. Do you truly believe she could ever have come to terms with what she had done?’
Virginia stared into Rachel’s eyes.
‘So lovely. Yet so cruel.’
‘I don’t wish to cause you further pain. The simple truth is, you’re free.’
A bitter laugh. ‘Free? Don’t be stupid.’
‘I’m trying to be rational. There’s no evidence to connect you with Bellamy’s murder. In terms of pinning blame on you, the alibi you gave Ffion is neither here nor there. In the unlikely event that any question arises, you can admit that you may have dozed while sunbathing in the nude. Easily done on a pleasant June afternoon. While you were asleep, Ffion may have stolen away and killed the man. Totally unbeknownst to you.’
‘We’re talking about life and death, and you make it sound like a chess tournament.’
Rachel looked at her. Her gaze was so intense that even Virginia blinked.
‘For what it’s worth, I don’t intend to say anything to the police that would make you liable to arrest.’
‘And your pet newspaperman?’
‘You’ve nothing to fear from him. He has more than enough to write about. If you can’t bear to stay in England, why not go abroad? Opportunities abound for artists with talent.’
Virginia shook her head. ‘It’s impossible.’
‘Nothing is impossible. You can make a new life, if you wish.’
‘Without Ffion?’
‘Your affair was doomed before I set foot in Hemlock Bay.’
‘My fault. I should have been stronger with Ffion. Made her see sense.’
‘Some people never see sense.’ Rachel turned on her heel. ‘Come on. We must alert the authorities. Ffion’s body needs to be retrieved. What story shall we tell them?’
‘I suppose you have a few ideas up your sleeve?’
Rachel smiled. ‘One or two.’
‘I might have known.’
‘Courage!’ Rachel hesitated. ‘Trust me. This is the very worst part.’
‘I wish I could believe you.’ Virginia closed her eyes. ‘All this is just a game to you, isn’t it?’
‘I play by my own rules.’
‘I can’t pretend any more. There’s nothing left for me.’
‘You have artistic gifts.’ Rachel spoke in a low voice. ‘They count for something.’
‘Not enough. People with my amount of talent are two a penny. The best thing I ever did was paint Hemlock Bay and now’ – she looked down towards Mermaid’s Grave – ‘it’s… forever tainted.’
Rachel breathed out. ‘Don’t make a rash decision when you’re consumed by grief and a sense of guilt.’
‘Thank you for your wisdom.’ Virginia sighed. ‘Will you call the police? I don’t have the strength for it.’
Rachel studied her for a few moments. ‘Very well. I’ve said all that I can.’
‘Yes.’
‘May I take the painting?’
‘I didn’t get very far.’
‘Even so.’
‘Then please feel free.’ Virginia shook her head. ‘And… thank you.’
Rachel walked towards the easel. It wasn’t in her nature to look back, but she couldn’t help a glance over her shoulder.
Virginia was still standing on the brink, making up her mind.
*
Five minutes later, Rachel was with the Truemans in the garden of Bay View.
‘You saw what happened?’
Hetty nodded. ‘We didn’t want to call the police until we knew what you had in mind.’
‘I’ve spent the last few minutes encouraging Virginia not to throw herself after Ffion.’
‘Did you persuade her?’
Rachel sighed. ‘I don’t know.’
Martha patted her on the back. ‘You can’t live someone else’s life for them.’
‘No.’
‘I’ll call the police.’
‘Thank you.’ Rachel picked up the accounting ledger containing Basil Palmer’s record of his failed plan to murder Louis Carson. ‘I’ll tell you everything later. Right now, I need to finish reading this.’
Martha got to her feet. The canvas that Rachel had brought back with her was lying on the table. She took a peek.
‘How perfect!’
The rough outlines of the picture were there, nothing more. A blurred symbol, with eyes and a mouth below its top.
Virginia had painted Rachel as an elaborate question mark.
*
At eight o’clock, Rachel met Jacob by appointment in the Hemlock Hotel. The American Bar was filling up, and the orchestra was playing ‘What Is This Thing Called Love?’, but he’d managed to secure a table in an alcove where they were unlikely to be overheard or interrupted.
‘You’ve spoken to Philip Oakes?’ she asked.
‘Five minutes ago. He tells me you want to convene people in the smoking room at nine.’
‘That’s right. Has he been able to organise it?’
‘By the sound of things, he’s had to twist a few arms, but yes. Everyone you’ve asked to be present will be there.’
‘Excellent.’
‘So you reckon you can make sense of everything that’s been going on here?’
‘I think so.’
‘I’m disappointed,’ Jacob said. ‘Where is your sense of theatre? Surely the Sun and Air Garden would be the perfect venue for all to be revealed?’
Rachel rewarded him with a polite smile which he mistook as encouragement.
‘Especially if you exposed a murderer.’
‘Very droll. To think that Virginia Penrhos accused me of treating murder as a game. If only she’d met you.’
‘You speak in the past tense?’
‘When I left her, she was wondering whether or not to jump off Hemlock Heights. I did my best to persuade her not to give up on life, but…’
‘Oakes just told me that Inspector Young has interviewed her about the death of Ffion Morris. She said her friend has been suffering badly with her nerves, but Young’s mind is working overtime. He’s come up with the theory that Ffion was offended by Bellamy’s fortune telling, and killed him in a moment of madness. Then she escaped into the Sun and Air Garden. Apparently Virginia was asleep for part of the time on the fateful afternoon, so her alibi for Ffion had gaping holes.’
Rachel nodded. ‘I’m glad that is cleared up. And the good inspector deserves a little credit.’
‘He’s even found Ffion’s bloodstained clothes in a laundry basket in the lighthouse.’
‘Quick work. Perhaps he’s due for promotion.’
‘You never know. Even Major Busby may be impressed.’
Jacob grinned. ‘There’s more to that business than meets the eye, isn’t there?’
‘Like a surrealist work of art.’
He contemplated her for a moment, before concluding that she had no intention of offering further enlightenment.
‘So you think Basil Palmer came here in order to kill Louis Carson?’
Rachel tapped the accounting ledger she’d brought with her. ‘It’s all here, in black and white.’
‘How did you find it?’
‘Something Mrs Stones told Hetty was suggestive. She mentioned that Palmer refused to let her dust his “precious books”. That made me wonder what was so precious about his books. Rare first editions, perhaps? He didn’t strike me as a bibliophile, or even as a particularly keen reader. He was crafty enough to fake up a diary so that nobody would look for anything else. Most of the titles on the shelves were predictable, but there was a row of accounting ledgers.’
‘He didn’t want her to realise he was an accountant?’
‘No, his main concern was that nobody should find his diary. In the circumstances, the ledgers were quite a clever hiding place.’
‘Shades of “The Purloined Letter”?’
‘Exactly. When I saw them, one question sprang to mind. Why would he bring a load of old accountancy books with him when he was supposed to be on holiday? The only plausible answer was that he wanted to hide something in them.’
Jacob nodded sagely. ‘Simple enough.’
Rachel gave him a chilly look. ‘I hoped the diary would explain what Palmer was up to. It did that, but much more. Without reading it, I wouldn’t have understood the reason why he was murdered.’
‘You’re sure he was murdered?’
‘Absolutely. His death was a clever piece of improvisation. An opportunistic crime, executed very effectively.’
‘Until you solved the puzzle.’ Jacob looked over her shoulder. ‘Well, look who has come along to join the party.’
Bob Harley was coming towards them, a broad smile on his face.
‘Well, well, Jacob, didn’t realise you had company. Let alone such a charming friend. You’ve worked fast in a few days. Mind if I join you? Or is this a private tête-à-tête?’
Rachel smiled. ‘You are Clarion Charlie, and I claim the prize.’
Bob Harley grinned in delight. ‘As the carnival folk say: close, but no cigar. I’m afraid you have to get the precise wording right in order to prise the money out of my editor’s wallet.’
‘Perhaps you can compensate me in some other way.’
Harley smirked. ‘Love to, my dear, absolutely love to. What exactly are you after, dare I ask?’
‘You were walking out on Hemlock Heights and Beggarman’s Lane yesterday afternoon,’ Rachel said.
Harley’s brow furrowed. ‘That’s right. Trying to get my bearings before the hoi polloi descended on me.’
‘Tell me what you saw.’