Free Deadly Deceit by Jean Harrod Page B

take a look at it later.”
    “Of course.”
    Jess looked along the road and saw the lighthouse standing on top of the Ridge. What had the Governor been doing up there, she wondered? “Can we go up to the lighthouse while we’re here, if it’s no trouble?”
    He nodded and walked back to his Land Rover.
    Jess followed and got in beside him.
    The driver proceeded to the top of the Ridge, and drew up outside a low picket fence that surrounded the lighthouse.
    Jess got out quickly, and for the first time felt a strong breeze in her face. She took some gulps of air, relieved to be able to finally breathe. She walked through a small gate in the fence, and headed for the lighthouse. It was an impressive structure, tall and solid. According to a plaque embedded in the wall, it was made of cast iron and built by the British. She climbed the few steps to the door. A sign said it was open to the public every day, except there was no-one around and the door was locked when she tried it. She went back down the steps, and across the grass to the edge of the headland.
    An amazing sight greeted her. High, foamy breakers crashed onto the reef out to sea. Below she could see only rocks and turbulent waves. Further along the headland, there was a cliff path, and a track leading down to a small beach.
    The Police Commissioner joined her, and stood staring out to the reef.
    “Is that where those two sloops went down?” she asked.
    “Yes.”
    “Did they all die out there?”
    He gave her a straight look. “They’ve been dying out there for centuries, Miss Turner. Many ships have run aground on the north-west reef.”
    They fell silent.
    His mobile rang. He looked to see who the caller was, then walked away to answer it.
    Glad he’d gone, Jess went back to the lighthouse and sat down on the steps in the shade. She didn’t know what to make of the Police Commissioner. He was polite and respectful, yet guarded. She felt he was answering all her questions honestly, but somehow not telling her the truth. She sensed strong emotions bubbling under that quiet exterior too. It wasn’t going to be easy to get to know Dexter Robinson.
    As she leant against the locked door, Jess spotted something on the grass through a gap in the steps. It looked like a folded piece of paper. Curious, she leaned sideways, pushed her arm under the steps and picked it up.
    Unfolding the paper, she smoothed it out. The writing was distinctive, with firm, long strokes, in black ink. Water had blotched some of it, but she started reading …
    My Darling,
    Words cannot describe how much I love you and the children, and how truly sorry I am. I’ve been a fool. I’ve betrayed you and everything I hold most dear.
    The next bit was blotched. Then it went on.
    I have to explain in a letter because I don’t know when I will see you again. I hope that one day you will be able to forgive me…
    Jess turned the paper over but there was nothing on the other side and no signature. The letter was unfinished.
    She read it again. I’ve been a fool. I’ve betrayed you and everything I hold most dear… I don’t know when I will see you again. Those words stood out. It was some kind of confession. To a lover maybe?
    When she heard the Police Commissioner’s quick footsteps coming back, and for a reason she would not have been able to explain, she folded the letter back up and slipped it into her pocket.
    He came up to her, arms rigid by his sides. But it was his face that told her something was seriously wrong.
    “We need to go back, urgently,” he said.
    “Why? What’s happened?”
    “There’s been another… death.”
    Her breath caught in her throat. “Who?”
    “She was found hanging in the garage this morning… Mrs Pearson!”
    It took Jess a moment to figure out who he was talking about. “Clement Pearson’s wife ?” she asked, incredulously.
    “Yes.”
    “Dear God! Has she committed suicide too?”
    “No.” As he shook his head, the colour seemed to drain