Free Palmer-Jones 03 - Murder in Paradise by Ann Cleeves Page B

drank percolated coffee from expensive hand-thrown mugs. George felt a deep nostalgia for the large untidy kitchen at home, for tea from a jumble-sale teapot, and for Molly.
    “I’m sorry that Molly couldn’t come this year,” he said.
    “So am I. Sylvia misses the company.”
    “She did want to come, but there was a crisis in the refuge for battered wives where our daughter works. One of her staff is sick. Molly said she’d help for a while. I’m not sure that she’s settled to retirement.”
    Nor have I, he thought. He said:
    “I thought I might go to church this morning.”
    Jonathan was disappointed, offended. “I was planning a walk,” he said, “see if the wind brought in anything interesting.”
    “I’ll come with you then.” It was easier that way. He was the Drysdales’ guest. He supposed that Jonathan enjoyed his company on these walks around the island. It was hard to tell. The previous visits to Kinness had been different. Molly mixed with everyone. She had made them all laugh. There had been a sense that they were on holiday. It occurred to him that he was there under false pretences—he had only been invited in the past because of Molly’s ability to make them happy. The least he could do was to go birdwatching with his host. He must be unsettled, he thought. He never usually needed an excuse to go birdwatcbing.
    It was a depressing walk. There were no birds.
    “It’s like this sometimes,” Jonathan said, “then the wind goes south-east and something unusual turns up. Of course I miss a lot.”
    “It must be difficult to get an accurate record when you’re on your own here.”
    “Impossible. I’ve tried to get Sylvia involved, but she doesn’t seem interested. Then the big falls of birds always seem to happen during the week while I’m at school.”
    “When does term start again?”
    “It’s already started. The older ones were supposed to go out on the boat two weeks ago, but they were allowed to stay on becaue of the party. The crew are doing a special run to Baltasay tomorrow to take Will Stennet and the others out. That will make covering the island more difficult, too. Will is quite keen on natural history. He’s more of a botanist than an ornithologist but he knows all the regular migrants and he’s improving all the time. He helped a lot with seabird ringing earlier this season. He’s very handy to have on the cliffs—an excellent climber.”
    They were back at the school house in time for lunch. Sylvia was spreading a floral print cloth over the dining-room table. The house smelled of English Sundays. She was wearing a soft white wool dress. She had done her hair differently—it was piled on to her head and fastened with combs—and she was wearing make-up. She offered them sherry.
    “This is very civilized,” George said.
    “We don’t entertain very often. I like to make the most of it when we do. It isn’t worth making the effort for Jon. He only cares about auks.”
    “What did you say?” Jonathan had gone straight to his bookshelf and had taken down a copy of Birds of the Western Palearctic. He and George had been discussing snowy owls and there was something he wanted to check. He had not been listening to his wife.
    Sylvia laughed, went over to her husband, and kissed him lightly on the forehead.
    “You see? He’s incorrigible. What can I do with him?”
    The food was good and Palmer-Jones enjoyed talking about birds with Jonathan and the island with Sylvia. She could capture the individuals of Kinness with one witty phrase—cruel, but amusing.
    After the meal they sat by the fire, drank coffee, and read. It was very peaceful. I’m an old man, George thought. This is how I should be spending my time. After all, it’s not my problem. But he could not leave it alone. There were two questions—had Mary been murdered? And if so, what should he do about it?
    He got up from his seat by the fire and went to stand by the window. He looked towards Kell and