Hagar had spoken to had been lying. That you couldn’t remain hidden all these years without having an efficient means of defence. Oh, God! Quinn’s lips twisted. What if Neville had actually met the lady without recognising her? She certainly looked nothing like those old pictures. But he wouldn’t like to be in Hager’s shoes if Hector found him out.
‘South Point,’ Zeke put in helpfully now. ‘That’s where you’ll find the best diving. Harry—that’s Harry at Harry’s Hire ‘n Dive—can give you all the gear you need. You’re planning on hiring a Moke, aren’t you? You’ll need one to get around.’
‘Oh—I guess so.’ In truth, Quinn hadn’t given a lot of thought to how he was going to get about the island.
‘I thought so.’ Zeke gave him an approving nod. ‘Another beer, Mr Marriott?’
* * *
In spite of the conviction that he wouldn’t sleep, Quinn actually slept very well. He opened his eyes the next morning feeling considerably rested, and apart from a slightly muggy head there were no unpleasant after-effects of the rum punch.
A shower in the tiny bathroom disposed of the mugginess, and by the time he’d pulled on narrow black jeans and a matching T-shirt he felt ready to face the day. He even felt more optimistic this morning, though he had yet to decide what his next move would be.
One thing was certain: whatever Julia had thought of his behaviour the night before, he was no longer the impressionable teenager he had been ten years ago. She might believe she could still intimidate him—and who could blame her?—but she would soon realise that he was a man now; he wasn’t so easily dazzled. Besides, his experience of women was more extensive these days. He was certainly not the idealist he’d been before.
He phoned Susan before going down for breakfast. Although it was only seven o’clock in San Jacinto, it was lunchtime in London, and he caught her at the apartment, before she left for Courtlands.
As soon as his mother had learned what he was planning, she had insisted that Susan spend the weekend with them. Quinn suspected that part of Lady Marriott’s insistence was due to a desire to hear more about it than the little he’d told her, and, if Susan was still in Suffolk when he got back from the Caribbean, she was fairly assured that he’d come and fetch her. And incidentally tell his mother what had happened on his trip.
Isabel Marriott was still endearingly loyal where Julia was concerned. She had always defended her decision to drop out of the limelight, and although she had been disappointed that she hadn’t been taken into Julia’s confidence she had always maintained that the younger woman must know what she was doing.
‘It must be a man,’ she had confided to Quinn wistfully, unaware how that news had affected her son. ‘It’s always a man, darling, when someone like Julia abandons her friends and family. What other reason could there be? I just wonder who he is.’
Which was why Quinn had felt bound to tell her what he was doing. And, like her son, Isabel had had reservations as to the propriety of his mission. She was of the opinion that if Julia wanted to remain anonymous she should be allowed that privilege. She had never liked the part of his work that placed him in the category of investigator. She’d have been far happier if he were like his brother, Matthew, content to breed his fox-hounds and supervise the estate.
‘Darling!’ Susan answered his call at the first ring, and he felt a momentary sense of guilt for not having made the call the night before. But after seeing Julia he’d been in no mood to be sociable, and he’d consoled himself with the thought that it had really been too late. ‘Did you have a good journey?’
Quinn assured her that he had, and then went on, ‘I’m just about to go down for breakfast. It’s a beautiful morning, I’ve got a view of the Sound from my window, and the temperature’s in the seventies already.’
‘Lucky you!’ Susan’s tone was just faintly hostile. ‘I wish I could have gone with you.’
‘So do I,’ agreed Quinn smoothly, though that wasn’t strictly true. But they’d had this argument before, and it was easier to be sympathetic when there was no chance of her taking him at his word.
‘Do you mean it?’
Evidently the distance had mellowed her mood, and Quinn took the opportunity to work on it. ‘Of course I do!’ he exclaimed. ‘But it is a business trip, Suse. I don’t expect to have much free time. Hector wants me back in the office on Wednesday.’
‘I suppose.’ Susan sounded philosophical now. ‘So, have you had any success with your enquiries?’
‘I only got in last night,’ declared Quinn evenly, aware of the equivocation. ‘Um—when are you leaving for Courtlands?’
‘In about half an hour, I think.’ Susan paused. ‘Will you ring me there later?’
‘Well, maybe not today,’ said Quinn evasively. ‘I don’t know where I’ll be, do I?’ That, at least, was true. ‘I’ll try and ring at this time tomorrow. If you’re out, I can always leave a message.’
‘Where will I be?’ exclaimed Susan, her irritation evident again. ‘Unless you think Matthew might be persuaded to run away with me. That is if I can prise him away from his blessed kennels, of course. I just hope your mother has invited some other guests for the weekend. If not, I’m going to have a pretty boring time.’
Quinn made some reassuring comment, and then, excusing himself on the grounds that he was wasting Hector’s time and money, he brought the call to an end. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to Susan, he told himself. It was just indicative of his impatience with what he had to do.
He breakfasted on the veranda, alone. There was no sign of his fellow guests this morning, but that didn’t surprise him. If they were on honeymoon, food was unlikely to trouble them. It would probably be around lunchtime before they put in an appearance.
A couple of hot rolls, spread with apricot conserve, and several cups of strong black coffee later, Quinn’s spirits felt somewhat fortified. He’d refused the blueberry pancakes the young waitress had been sure he’d choose in favour of the lighter meal. In truth, he didn’t have much of an appetite either. He felt empty, it was true, but with apprehension, not hunger.
Zeke appeared as he was leaving the table, and it crossed his mind again that the hotel proprietor could probably save him a lot of effort. But Neville had said that the woman he’d approached lived at the other end of the island, and until he’d checked that out he was loath to state his intentions.
‘You going swimming, Mr Marriott?’ Zeke asked, with friendly enquiry, and Quinn used the opportunity to check out the whereabouts of Harry’s Hire ‘n Dive. Whether he was going to be successful or not, he definitely needed some transport, and a Moke sounded ideal for his purposes.
Half an hour later, he was bouncing up the steep hill out of San Jacinto town. The rear wheels of the little vehicle seemed to leave the road altogether in places, and he was forced to concentrate on his driving to keep it on the track.
All the same, he couldn’t help noticing how delightful the little town looked from this angle. Pink-splashed roofs, gardens lush with greenery, all jostling for space among hedges bright with scarlet hibiscus. There was an abundance of light and colour, of scents and smells, and exotic spices, teasing his senses with their sharp aroma. Even without the sparkling waters of the Sound the scene would have been dazzling, and the
