he could argue, she was out of his arms and hammering on the door. ‘Let me out!’
‘What do you think?’
‘It’s certainly beautiful,’ Ella commented.
Hector was pressing a hand flat on top of his smooth brown hair as if he were suffering a headache, but his eyes were bright and his movements alert. He reminded Ella of one of the sandpipers that stalked the water’s edge, never still.
‘I need to know more about the person who bought this beach,’ Ella said. ‘Dodie Wyatt told me it was someone called Mr Alan Leggaty.’
‘Did she indeed?’
‘Do you know him? You must have drawn up the contract.’
‘I didn’t meet Mr Leggaty personally.’
‘Isn’t that odd?’
‘Not really. I have minions for that.’
Something was wrong. Ella didn’t know what, but she could feel it. Perhaps Hector was regretting giving up so much time to bring her out here, because certainly his mind seemed to be elsewhere. They were walking a stretch of the beach close to the surf where the sand was firm, and Ella carried her shoes in her hand, letting the breeze snatch away the images in her head of the mass grave at the bottom of her garden. But she couldn’t stop a shiver when she thought of Dan.
‘Are you all right, Ella?’
‘Yes.’ She looked at the man beside her, solid dependable Hector whose passion was yacht racing and whose only vice seemed to be a tendency to bore his wife Tilly with boat-talk too much. ‘No, Hector,’ Ella said truthfully, ‘to be honest I’m not all right.’ She came to a halt on the warm sand and looked up into his face. ‘I’m frightened.’
His cheeks were red. The sun? Or the headache? Strangely he didn’t look startled by her admission.
‘Frightened? My poor Ella, tell me why.’
She shook her head. ‘No, I can’t…’
On the empty beach he took her hand between his. ‘Yes, you can tell me. I’m your friend, Ella. I’m here to help.’
So she told him. About the chickens. About her worries that someone could be watching her.
‘Why would anyone be watching you?’ he asked, and she heard the understandable ripple of amusement in his tone.
‘Because I saw something that I wasn’t meant to see.’
‘And what was that?’
She almost didn’t tell him. Almost. But his concern felt so real and he wasn’t the kind of man to scoff.
‘I saw a hoard of gold in Sir Harry’s house. The night Morrell was there, the man who was —’
A strange noise came from him. Part way between a cough and a groan. ‘A hoard of gold? Are you sure?’
‘Of course I’m sure. I called there that night collecting for the Red Cross and it was on the table.’
She told him about the coin that Dodie had brought to her and that she had believed it was a warning from Morrell to beware of Sir Harry. But now she wasn’t so sure.
‘They both saw the gold and now they’re both dead.’ Slowly she raked her foot through the sand. ‘What do you think, Hector? Should I be frightened or am I just being foolish? You’re a lawyer, you know about these things. I don’t want to worry Reggie. Give me advice, because I haven’t told the police yet, not formally.’
‘Haven’t you?’
Hector was staring out to sea where the waves were rolling in with soft murmurs.
‘Have you told anyone you think the murders are connected with the sale of this tract of land?’
‘No.’
‘Good,’ he said and it seemed to be aimed more at the waves than at her.
Ella frowned. Again that feeling that something wasn’t quite right. She followed his line of sight and noticed a yacht anchored about a mile off shore, flickering like a white seabird in the sunlight. She lifted her hand to shade her eyes.
‘Hector, is that
Storm Cloud
?’
He nodded.
‘What’s she doing here?’ Ella asked.
‘I sail her to this bay sometimes. When I want some peace and quiet.’
Storm Cloud
was Hector’s new boat. ‘I keep a tender in an inlet among those rocks over there. A guard watches over things
‘What do you think?’
‘It’s certainly beautiful,’ Ella commented.
Hector was pressing a hand flat on top of his smooth brown hair as if he were suffering a headache, but his eyes were bright and his movements alert. He reminded Ella of one of the sandpipers that stalked the water’s edge, never still.
‘I need to know more about the person who bought this beach,’ Ella said. ‘Dodie Wyatt told me it was someone called Mr Alan Leggaty.’
‘Did she indeed?’
‘Do you know him? You must have drawn up the contract.’
‘I didn’t meet Mr Leggaty personally.’
‘Isn’t that odd?’
‘Not really. I have minions for that.’
Something was wrong. Ella didn’t know what, but she could feel it. Perhaps Hector was regretting giving up so much time to bring her out here, because certainly his mind seemed to be elsewhere. They were walking a stretch of the beach close to the surf where the sand was firm, and Ella carried her shoes in her hand, letting the breeze snatch away the images in her head of the mass grave at the bottom of her garden. But she couldn’t stop a shiver when she thought of Dan.
‘Are you all right, Ella?’
‘Yes.’ She looked at the man beside her, solid dependable Hector whose passion was yacht racing and whose only vice seemed to be a tendency to bore his wife Tilly with boat-talk too much. ‘No, Hector,’ Ella said truthfully, ‘to be honest I’m not all right.’ She came to a halt on the warm sand and looked up into his face. ‘I’m frightened.’
His cheeks were red. The sun? Or the headache? Strangely he didn’t look startled by her admission.
‘Frightened? My poor Ella, tell me why.’
She shook her head. ‘No, I can’t…’
On the empty beach he took her hand between his. ‘Yes, you can tell me. I’m your friend, Ella. I’m here to help.’
So she told him. About the chickens. About her worries that someone could be watching her.
‘Why would anyone be watching you?’ he asked, and she heard the understandable ripple of amusement in his tone.
‘Because I saw something that I wasn’t meant to see.’
‘And what was that?’
She almost didn’t tell him. Almost. But his concern felt so real and he wasn’t the kind of man to scoff.
‘I saw a hoard of gold in Sir Harry’s house. The night Morrell was there, the man who was —’
A strange noise came from him. Part way between a cough and a groan. ‘A hoard of gold? Are you sure?’
‘Of course I’m sure. I called there that night collecting for the Red Cross and it was on the table.’
She told him about the coin that Dodie had brought to her and that she had believed it was a warning from Morrell to beware of Sir Harry. But now she wasn’t so sure.
‘They both saw the gold and now they’re both dead.’ Slowly she raked her foot through the sand. ‘What do you think, Hector? Should I be frightened or am I just being foolish? You’re a lawyer, you know about these things. I don’t want to worry Reggie. Give me advice, because I haven’t told the police yet, not formally.’
‘Haven’t you?’
Hector was staring out to sea where the waves were rolling in with soft murmurs.
‘Have you told anyone you think the murders are connected with the sale of this tract of land?’
‘No.’
‘Good,’ he said and it seemed to be aimed more at the waves than at her.
Ella frowned. Again that feeling that something wasn’t quite right. She followed his line of sight and noticed a yacht anchored about a mile off shore, flickering like a white seabird in the sunlight. She lifted her hand to shade her eyes.
‘Hector, is that
Storm Cloud
?’
He nodded.
‘What’s she doing here?’ Ella asked.
‘I sail her to this bay sometimes. When I want some peace and quiet.’
Storm Cloud
was Hector’s new boat. ‘I keep a tender in an inlet among those rocks over there. A guard watches over things
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