“He didn’t tell me. I thought it might have to do with mismanagement of company funds, that sort of thing, and he was going to show me balance sheets. Of course I could be quite wrong. Now we’ll probably never know.” He went over to the bed and sat down, taking the tray onto his lap. “By the way, that was a most astute observation of yours about the fall from the cliff not being guaranteed to kill someone at high tide.” He chuckled. “I must say you caused quite a stir. They looked positively horrified that such a statement should come from a lady’s delicate lips.”
I nodded. “Yes, I thought Irene was about to swoon. It would have been high tide about six or seven. Of course if he didn’t arrive until much later then the rocks would have been exposed again. Can you tell exactly how long someone has been dead?”
“My colleagues at Mulberry Street could. I can’t answer for their expertise here.”
“Would it be harder if the body had lain in cold water overnight?”
“Harder but not impossible. Rigor mortis follows a certain pattern, you see. The progression would be slower if the body was chilled, but…” He looked up from his toast. “Now why am I telling you this? This is not the sort of fact you will be needing in your future life as my wife.”
“You may want to discuss cases with me. You never know.”
“Oh, no. That would never do. A police officer does not discuss his cases with his wife.”
“Most wives aren’t equipped to be able to help,” I said. “If I were a police detective, I would seek help wherever I could get it, especially from a smart and experienced female detective who has solved some most tricky cases single-handedly.”
He glanced up at me and shook his head, smiling. “I can see you’re not going to adapt easily to tea parties.” Then he looked down again and started tapping the top of his boiled egg, took a bite and gave a sigh of contentment. “This is just what I needed. To tell you the truth I was feeling completely washed out as we walked across that lawn. I felt as if I might keel over at any moment. This wretched cold. I am so angry with myself.”
“Don’t be silly. You can’t help catching a chill. We were both frozen to the marrow that night and you gave me your dry clothes. It is I who should feel guilty.”
“But I feel that I’ve spoiled our honeymoon. I wanted it to be a special time for both of us and now you’re having to look after an invalid.”
“Get on with that egg and hush up now.” I patted his shoulder. “I’ll be up again with the linctus for that cough and the mustard plaster for your chest. And then you should take a little nap.”
“It sounds delightful,” he said dryly. I grinned as I left the room.
Outside the front door I heard the sound of horses’ hooves and raised men’s voices. I went to the sitting-room window and saw a bevy of policemen loading what was obviously the body, now on a stretcher under a tarpaulin, into the back of a police wagon. Chief Prescott was nowhere to be seen and the job was not going smoothly. At last the back door was closed and the wagon took off at a lively gallop. I was thankful the corpse was already dead—otherwise he certainly wouldn’t have enjoyed that ride. I sat down to eat my own breakfast and then did the washing up.
When I went to clear away Daniel’s breakfast things, he had fallen asleep, half sitting propped on the pillows. I pulled the coverlets over him and tiptoed downstairs again. Now that he was asleep, I was going to go for a morning stroll and take the sea air. And if I happened to have a look around the crime scene at the same time, then I was just being a typical woman, indulging her curiosity. I put on my hat and cape, securing the former well with any number of hatpins, because the wind was sharp and blustery, and went out.
Clouds were racing across the sky and the air was full of twirling leaves. The moan of the wind through the pines and around that house competed with the thump of the waves onto the sea shore. Seagulls hung in the air, being tossed around like scraps of paper. I wondered if this heralded the arrival of another storm and whether we would still be here when it hit. It wouldn’t take long for Chief Prescott to receive a reply to his telegram, confirming that Daniel was who he said he was. And then for sure the chief would want us out of the cottage and out of his hair as quickly as possible. So it was likely that we’d be back in our own house by nightfall, Daniel probably chafing because he wasn’t able to help at the scene of the crime—if it was a crime. I really didn’t want to go, being as curious as Daniel was and enjoying this delightful setting, but I reasoned that he’d make a better recovery in his own bed at home.