Palmer-Jones 03 - Murder in Paradise by Ann Cleeves

the steep, grey hill beyond. Someone was walking past the deserted croft by Kell. It was Jim Stennet’s new wife. She was lost to his view beyond the post office. She stopped and looked about her, then hurried on.
    “I think I’ll go for a walk,” he said. “ Get some fresh air and walk off some of that delicious lunch.”
    Sylvia looked up from her book and smiled. He was afraid for a moment that she was going to offer to accompany him, but she only nodded. Jonathan was still absorbed and seemed not to hear him.
    He found Sarah in the graveyard. She was studying one of the gravestones and seemed engrossed in the inscription. She turned suddenly and he realized that he had startled her.
    “Excuse me,” he said.
    “That’s all right. I’m just enjoying the last of the sun.” She felt foolish, standing in the graveyard.
    “And the peace. I’m sorry to disturb you.”
    Suddenly she was pleased to see him. He seemed very English and ordinary. Very familiar.
    “I think perhaps we should walk on down to the road past the school house,” he said. “I came to find you. I need your help.”
    “But I’ve told you. I don’t know anything about birds. I shouldn’t be any help.”
    “It’s not that. I need your advice.” He hesitated. “It’s about Mary.”
    “I don’t understand. I thought that it was all decided. The police accepted that you were an independent witness. They seemed quite satisfied about how she fell, and that no one could have prevented it.”
    “That’s just my problem. They are quite satisfied. But I’m not.”
    He hesitated again. “I don’t believe that her death was an accident. I think that she must have been pushed.”
    “You think that she was murdered?” Her voice was incredulous and the word sounded ridiculous.
    “Perhaps I should explain why. I saw Mary on Friday morning just after we had landed. She was very excited about the party and she said she had a secret to share with me. At the party she mentioned it again, and I promised to dance with her later. She was enjoying herself and there was something she was keen to tell me. I don’t believe that she would have run away from that.
    “Then there was the scarf. Did you notice that she was wearing it all day? Sylvia Drysdale had given it to her and she was very proud of it. But when we found the body she wasn’t wearing it. She fell above the tide line, so it wouldn’t have been washed away. I had a look for it yesterday at the top of Ellie’s Head and around the hall, but I haven’t found it. If it was taken from her either before or after she fell, it means that someone else was implicated in her death.”
    He turned to her.
    “Did you notice whether she had anything alcoholic to drink at the dance?”
    She considered carefully.
    “I don’t remember very well,” she said. “I’d had quite a lot to drink myself. But I don’t think that she can have done. We didn’t allow the children to get at the Cup, and they all had orange squash for the toasts.”
    “So how did she come to fall? There was a moon on Friday night. I’ve seen her climbing around the cliffs like the other children after gulls’ eggs and she was more surefooted than any of them.”
    She was not at all convinced.
    “I don’t believe it,” she said. “Those all seem such little things. They can’t mean that someone murdered her. It seems melodramatic, silly.”
    “I can’t change facts,” he said quietly. “I have tried to find a different way of explaining them, but I haven’t succeeded yet. There may be another explanation. I came to talk to you to ask if you think I should try to find it.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “The police are satisfied that Mary died accidentally. Perhaps I should leave it at that.”
    “But if you believe that she was murdered, you must do something about it.”
    “I’m not sure,” he said. “This is a special place, precarious. If I meddle I might endanger its survival.”
    “But it’s not a