An Inquiry Into Love and Death by Simone St. James Page B

the vast expanse of the sea approached, pearlescent and swirling, dotted with a handful of boats.
    There were houses even on the steep slope here, built bravely on a slant, giving the appearance of being ready to tumble into the sea. One or two housewives swept porches; an old man smoked his pipe in his front doorway and watched me with unbroken concentration as I passed. I kept my eyes on the narrow road.
    On the last plateau before the final drop to the sea, Rothewell had built its High Street. The buildings were set in a tidy row overlooking the ocean, protected from the wind and the drop to the beach by a low stone wall. Below this, the beach was a large expanse sliding out to the turbulent sea. An old wooden pier stood in the water, battered and wet, with only a few fishing boats tethered along one side. There was no activity anywhere along the pier; at this time of day, I assumed, the fishermen were already out working, and wouldn’t come back until sundown.
    I parked in a stony clearing at the end of the road. My hands were cramped from clenching the wheel on the hairpin drive. High Street contained a few stores, a post office, an old church at one end, and a few citizens who looked at me curiously as they went about their business. A man sitting in the window of a pub watched me as I passed; he was youngish, his hair wheat blond, dressed in an open-throated shirt and jacket, a plate of food untouched on the table before him.
    Perhaps it was the motorcar, which was obviously unusual, that had people staring. Perhaps it was simply the presence of a stranger. I had put on a silk dress, overcoat, stockings, patent-leather pumps, and a hat with a dark blue ribbon.
    I ducked into a shop with a hand-lettered sign offering MARKET—SUNDRIES—GOODS . It was small and a little musty, but someone had taken great care with each shelf, tidying it and stocking it just so. To my surprise, the only person in the shop was a boy of about nine, with blue eyes and thick blond hair, who sat on a high stool behind the counter. When he saw me, he slid from his seat without a word and ducked into a back room, presumably to fetch a grown-up.
    I selected some sausage, bread, cheese, and cocoa to bring back to Barrow House. A woman appeared from the back room and took her place behind the counter. She was slender, her hair tied carelessly at the back of her neck. She appeared to be over thirty, with dark-lashed hazel eyes and a narrow chin, and her boxy dress and out-of-fashion collar did little to mar how pretty she was. She arranged my purchases with long, precise fingers adorned with a narrow gold wedding ring.
    I smiled at her. “Was that your boy?”
    Motherly pride broke through her reserve, and she smiled back, though I thought her eyes were sad. “Yes. That was Sam. He likes to help, though normally he has better manners. I’m afraid he’s rather shy.”
    I assured her the boy’s manners were impeccable, of course, as I paid for the food. As I left the store, I glanced at the pub again. The blond man was gone.
    I stowed my basket in the motor and, unwilling to leave yet, I directed my steps down the cobbled path to the wall that paralleled the beach. Here I found a walking path, where one could stroll and take the air, or sit on the low wall and rest. It was the kind of thoroughfare built in resort towns, though there were no tourists to be seen on this chilled, dreary day, and I stood utterly alone.
    I stopped and looked about me. The sea was beautiful, if rather desolate from here. Only a few boats, signified by smudged, lonely dots, traveled the water. To my left, rocky cliffs rose from the beach, crowned in dense woodland, beautiful in their frowning majesty.
    I realized with a shock that I must be looking at the cliffs where my uncle had died. Inspector Merriken had said Toby had been seen from the water. He must have landed on the rocky outcrop at the foot of the cliffs. My stomach turned as I stared. It was a long,