Fatal Slip

  'Quick, she'd gone down there!' she exclaimed, and the driver cast her a reproachful glance. 'I saw the scarf,' she said breathlessly. 'Why is she coming here? Is she perhaps coming to see Emma?'

  'We'll have to go on to the next junction,' the driver said. 'It's a famous miradouro, viewpoint, and the Christo Rei statue, the one that is a copy of the statue in Brazil, is there,' the driver pointed out.

  'She could be going anywhere! We've lost her!'

  'We will soon be back, it's only three kilometres to the next junction, and we can follow to see if she is in Garajau,' the driver said, and put his foot down.

  The road was now clearer. Several of the coaches had turned off, and the faster cars had by now spread out after the end of the roadworks. The taxi sped on, through tunnels, but Dodie was not looking at the scenery. She clutched at the seat belt when the taxi swung over to the inside lane, causing a truck driver to lean on the horn. They screeched round into the exit road, and she had barely recovered her balance when they had swung round several bends and were once more on the motorway, going in the opposite direction.

  'But she must have seen this place hundreds of times. Could she have arranged to meet someone here?' Howard wondered. 'Or she has a friend here?'

  'Perhaps she's asked a friend to meet her here?' Pedro suggested.

  'We'll soon find out if she's there,' Dodie said grimly.

  She sat impatiently on the edge of the seat as once more they left the motorway, and began to descend a steep, twisting road that soon emerged into the main street. Dodie looked about her in despair. To her left were dozens of high apartment blocks, and on the right a long, sand-coloured series of blocks which Pedro said was the Dom Pedro Hotel.

  'We'll never be able to find her if she's visiting or meeting someone here!' Dodie said. 'It can't be Emma, it's the wrong road.'

  'Look in the cafés, there are several on the left,' Howard said, and Dodie craned to see past the parked cars.

  'If she has any sense she'll be inside, not at one of the pavement tables,' Pedro said, then he grinned. 'All is not lost, there is a taxi ahead, and I caught a glimpse of blue in the window.'

  Dodie could see several coaches, and a taxi sandwiched between two of them, but she saw no hint of blue. She prayed Pedro was right.

  The coaches halted outside the hotel entrance, and after waiting for a garbage truck to empty several large bins from the other side of the road, Isabella's taxi was able to pass. They squeezed after her, drawing a couple of outraged hoots on car horns from drivers coming the other way.

  The main road swung round to the left but Isabella's taxi went straight on, down a steep slope. Dodie saw a sign pointing to Christo Rei. So it was here she was going, presumably to meet a friend. They dropped steadily, round several bends, having to wait while a big tourist coach coming the other way blocked one corner. At last they reached a paved parking area. Just three cars were parked, and a taxi was coming towards them. Unless Isabella was crouched down between the seats it was empty. The three of them spilled out, looking anxiously around.

  'We'll come back as soon as we can, OK?' Howard said to the driver.

  'You go back to Funchal?'

  'I don't intend to stay here all night! We'll find the girl, and we may bring her back with us. We won't be long.'

  'OK. Take a good look while you're here. It's a beautiful view, you can see Funchal.'

  They nodded, and Dodie, who had been looking at the paved, curving pathway leading away from the parking area, grabbed Howard's arm.

  'There she is! I saw her scarf. Behind that bank of red spiky flowers.'

  'Sword aloes,' Pedro said. 'Come on.'

  It wasn't a very steep slope, and as they went on Dodie could see the head of the statue, with arms outstretched, looming above them. She was puffing as they came level with a crescent-shaped area on one side, rough earth steps leading to what was presumably a special viewpoint, protected by wooden rails.

  'Can you see Isabella?'

  'No, she must have hurried to the top. '

  They went on, and found a few people gazing up at the huge statue. But there was no Isabella. Beyond the railings the ground sloped away to another sharp outcrop of land, and below they could see the ground dropping towards the dark, shadowed sea, lightened only by the few flecks of foam visible on the crests of the larger waves, and one brightly painted fishing boat near the shore, a bird-like speck from such an awesome height.

  Pedro pointed to a few steps at the side, leading down past the statue and the area around it. 'I don't know where these go, but I'll go and see. Go back, she may have hidden behind all those sword aloe bushes, some of them are big enough.'

  Dodie and Howard hurried back, scanning what they could see of the car park, in case Isabella had doubled back. They were catching up with a couple carrying large back packs, just by the other viewpoint, when the woman pointed excitedly. Then she screamed and Dodie went cold with horror.

  Isabella, her head sporting a valiant, bright blue and white scarf, was standing on the very edge of a large rock, right on the edge of the cliff, overlooking a sheer drop to the small beach hundreds of feet below.

  ***

  Chapter 11

  Bruce hesitated, then regretfully laid the sealed envelope on the desk in Maria's office.

  'It's addressed to the police.'

  'Then we certainly can't open that one,' Bill Thorn said decisively. 'I must say I'm a little surprised you opened the one addressed to Theo.'

  'If you'd been here instead of on the golf course you could have taken charge!' Valerie snapped.

  'The chances are the police would not have allowed him to have it, and we needed to know whether there's anything we can do,' Bruce protested angrily.

  Bill ignored him and answered his wife. 'Well, I am here now, and I'm going to take that one to the police.'

  He'd arrived just as Bruce and Valerie were reading the letter addressed to Theo. After considerable thought they'd concluded they had to see what it contained.

  'Read it, Bill,' Bruce said, after Valerie rapidly explained what had happened.

  Bill, with a grimace of distaste, took the single sheet of paper and scanned it swiftly. Written in English, it was short and puzzling.

  'Dear Papa, I cannot bear the guilt any longer. Please don't open this letter, just give it to the police. I am going to where I can be happy. I'm sorry to have been a disappointment to you. All my love to Mama and the boys, and tell them to forget me as soon as they can. I love you always, Isabella.'

  'Has she gone to England?' Valerie demanded.

  'That we may soon discover. Is Maria still asleep?'

  'Please God! You don't know what a dreadful day I've had with her. And where are Howard and Dodie? Why haven't they come back, or at least phoned? It's most inconsiderate.'

  'They'll turn up soon, no doubt. I'll take both letters to the police, and see what I can do to persuade them to release Theo.'

  'But this is a confession,' Bruce said. 'If the police see it they'll arrest Isabella.'

  'If she did kill him it exonerates Theo.'

  'Theo would do anything to protect her,' Valerie said slowly. 'He'd even take the blame himself.'

  Bruce shrugged. 'OK. Take it to the police, and let them sort it out.'

  'I intend to. I'll also tell them Isabella has vanished.'

  *

  Some time later Maria walked into the office. She looked dazed, her eyes cloudy with sleep, her hair unbrushed. She was wearing an old dressing gown over her underwear, and odd shoes, one beige, one white. Bruce, who had been pacing up and down the small room, turned towards the door eagerly as it opened, then his shoulders slumped as he saw who it was.

  Valerie was sipping from a cup of tea, but she set it down noisily in the saucer, jumped to her feet and went to guide Maria into a chair.

  'Have some tea,' she urged. 'It's freshly made, and there's a spare cup. Bruce won't have any,' she added with a shrug.

  'What has h
appened? Where is my child?' Maria asked, waving away the tea Valerie had poured.

  'We don't know,' Bruce replied. 'Is there anyone she could have intended to visit? A friend? A relative?'

  'Why should she? She has her family – or some of it! – here, why should she want friends at a time like this?'

  'I'd have thought it perfectly obvious, the way you've all been behaving towards the poor lass,' Valerie said curtly.

  'Bill took her note to the police,' Bruce said.

  'Note? What note? She left a note to say where she had gone?' Maria suddenly looked more her normal alert self. She sat up straighter in the chair and glared round. 'Why wasn't I told? What has it to do with the police? Why didn't you set off after her?' she demanded, glaring at Bruce. 'I am all alone, bereft of friends, my family far away, and there is no one to help me!'

  Bruce heaved a disgusted sigh. 'The note was addressed to the police. It was with one she'd written to Theo.'

  'Theo? Why not to me, her mother? And why does she write to the police? What has my child to do with the police?'

  'She just said she was going away, and apologized for causing you all disappointment,' he said shortly.

  'How do you know? Is Theo back? Why hasn't he been to see me, to comfort me?'

  'He isn't back. I can't think what's keeping Bill,' Valerie said fretfully.

  'Then how do you know what Isabella said to him?'

  'We opened the note. We had to,' Valerie said hastily as Maria took a deep breath. 'We thought the police might not let him have it, and she might have said where she'd gone.'

  'I want a drink. No, not that!' she declared as Valerie again proffered the tea.

  Bruce poured a glass of Malmsey. 'This should send her to sleep again soon,' he muttered to Valerie as Maria gulped it down in one long swallow.

  It served to revive Maria. She questioned them closely about the precise wording of the note, and after several minutes of this Bruce seized a sheet of paper and a pen.

  'Look, I'll write it down as much as I can recall,' he offered, and began to write. He had just handed the sheet to Maria when the door opened and Theo walked in, followed closely by Bill. He looked desolate, his eyes spiritless, and he walked like an old man. Bruce jumped up hastily to go and take his arm and help him to a chair.

  'Theo! What's happened? What is it?'

  Theo sank into the chair and leaned his arms onto the desk. He stared round at them, but didn't seem to see anyone. Then he dropped his head onto his arms, and his shoulders shook.

  'Isabella's note to the police. She confessed to killing Jake,' Bill said heavily.

  *

  The wind, which until now Dodie hadn't noticed, suddenly gusted into her face. She felt drops of water, and for one wild moment thought it was spray from the churning waves below. Of course not, she told herself, it was far too high for spray to be carried up to them. It was raining. The wind made a moaning sound in the trees, and slapped against the cliff. Swiftly Dodie estimated the distance to reach Isabella. The gusting sighs of the wind would help to cover any noise she might make.

  The man with the backpack went onto the viewpoint and began, in halting Portugese, to talk to Isabella, who glanced down at him and shrugged.

  'Are you English?' Dodie demanded urgently.

  'Yes, but what's that–'

  'She speaks English. Distract her, keep her attention away from me, while I go the other side.' Dodie said and went further down the path, behind where Isabella stood.

  As she went she could hear the man, his voice gentle and soothing, asking Isabella questions. She saw Isabella turn her head towards him and took the opportunity to clamber over the low railings at the side of the path. As quietly as she could she moved up the slope towards Isabella, wincing as she stubbed her toes against the small protruding rocks beneath her, then crouched down when she was came close and waited. Dare she try and grab Isabella, or would that send her over the edge?

  This wasn't the highest cliff in Madeira, she knew. Cabo Girao was probably twice as high, for that was the second highest cliff in the world, but this one, whatever the height, was far too high for comfort. It was a long time since she'd stood at the top of Niagara. Compared with this it was a shallow drop, cushioned all the way down with hundreds of gallons of water, not sharp, lethal outcrops of granite. Or, and she shivered again, something equally unpleasant. Soft sandstone would hurt as one hurtled down, and break even tough bodies into battered pieces of mincemeat long before they reached the sea.

  Stop this, Dodie told herself firmly. It wasn't the time to be asking irrelevant questions or imagining gruesome deaths. She peeped upwards, and saw that Isabella was looking back towards the man talking to her. Dodie rose to her knees an waited for an opportunity.

  If she grabbed at her, could Dodie hold on to her until more help came? She was young, lithe, quick and strong. And she was desperate. Her pregnancy, Jake's defection, and then the shock of his murder and her father's arrest must have sent her temporarily insane.

  Dodie paused. And then, as she watched, the wind blew Isabella's scarf across her face and Dodie moved.

  Isabella swayed and leant back slightly as she tried to scrape the scarf away from her face, and was unbalanced as Dodie grabbed at her skirts.

  'Got you!' Dodie gasped, dragging at Isabella's skirt and pulling the girl backwards.

  Isabella gave a howl of anguish and began to fight to free herself, but Dodie, summoning up a reserve of strength, yanked as hard as she could, and they both collapsed onto the rough, hard ground behind the rock and rolled helplessly back towards the path. Dodie lost both shoes and braced her feet against some rocky surface and clasped both arms round the girl, who was lying partly on top of her. Dodie managed to fling one leg across Isabella's legs, pinning her to the ground.

  They lay there for a moment, both breathless, and then Isabella began to struggle, trying to rise and crying convulsively. Dodie hung on grimly, not daring to look to see whether the onlookers were coming to her aid.

  'Let me go!' Isabella wailed.

  'Don't struggle, my love,' she gasped. 'I'm a sight heavier than you are, and though I'm going to regret all these gymnastics tomorrow, I'm not letting you go.'

  'Let me go!' Isabella pleaded again. 'You've no right to stop me! It's none of your business!'

  'What happens to my grandchild is very much my business,' Dodie replied, flinching as Isabella freed one arm and her elbow dug into Dodie's ribs.

  Then Dodie heard shouts behind her, and Howard and the man with the back pack came alongside.

  'We've got her,' Howard said calmly. 'You can let go, Dodie.'

  *

  To everyone's relief, after a brief interview the police departed, permitting Isabella to remain at home.

  'They accept her letter as the frantic attempt it was to exonerate Theo,' Howard reported to Dodie.

  'Do they still suspect Theo?' Dodie asked. She was sitting in one of the hotel guest rooms, swathed in a borrowed dressing gown, rubbing ointment into her bruised and lacerated feet.

  'Maria insists he was with her all the time during the party, and she demanded that the boys be questioned again, saying they were all together all the time.'

  'Which provides a group alibi, if it's true.'

  'It doesn't clear anyone,' Howard agreed. 'Maria sent me to ask if you wanted dinner up here, or to join the family in their private rooms.'

  Dodie shuddered slightly. 'I think I've had enough of dramatics,' she said. 'Yet it's kind of her to ask. They must be feeling shattered too, and I ought to try and talk with them. If your mother has come back with some respectable clothes for me, tell Maria I'd be honoured to join them.'

  An hour later, wearing clean clothes and some pink fluffy mules Maria provided, since Dodie found it impossible to get any of her own shoes on, she was sitting with Maria and Theo, Bill and Valerie, in a small dining room furnished with heavy mahogany pieces. Bruce had left as soon as Dodie returned, Howard had excused himself, and
Maria had sent her sons to the public dining room.

  'We are sorry for you, as a mother,' Maria said quietly to Dodie after the maid left the room, having served the main course of salted cod cooked in a casserole with potatoes, onions, and black olives, garnished with hard boiled eggs. 'I admit that we were angry with your son for the way he dishonoured our daughter, but you saved her for us, and we will always be grateful. I do love her, even in her disgrace.'

  'I'm angry with Jake as well,' Dodie said quietly. 'But it takes two. And we can never quite thrust away the children we've borne, can we?'

  Maria was not listening. 'My brothers, and my sons, they are impetuous. We are a hot-blooded people. They made threats but they would not have killed him, even if they were drunk. I hope you believe me?'

  'If it wasn't an accident who do you think killed him?' Dodie asked.

  Maria shrugged. 'If I had to choose, either of the Englishmen. One of them was attacking him.'

  'Which one?' Dodie asked.

  'I don't remember. I only saw them from the back, one was punching your son. These tall dark-haired men all look alike in evening dress.'

  'Tell me what happened,' Dodie invited, but that was too much for Maria.

  'He came on the boat, insulted everyone who spoke to him, and then, after this man punched him, went to sleep. That was the last any of us saw of him.'

  'Do you believe her?' Valerie said after they reached home.

  Dodie was flexing and rubbing her feet. 'Not that they were all together all the time,' she said slowly. 'Ouch. I'm getting stiff. People on the boat were moving round and the Macleans were serving food and drinks.'

  'Too true,' Valerie sighed. 'I'm even beginning to doubt that account we constructed, about that evening. Now I can't recall the order I did things, or who was there when, or who was still left when we came home.'

  'I went down again to see the boat,' Dodie said. 'You'd think with a big open deck, and just a small cabin it would be clear, but there are all sorts of nooks and crannies where people could hide, behind piles of ropes, in the wheelhouse, even in the cabin. Everyone was out on deck. The place where Jake was lying was in shadow, and during all the fuss he'd been pushed quite a way from the gangway. We'd all got our backs to him while we watched the fireworks. I'm sure, after the scenes he'd created, most people would have steered clear of him. It wouldn't have been difficult for someone to creep up on him.'