a child.
He looked to be in his early forties, slightly younger than Uncle Alfred must have been at the end, she realised. He was of medium height, as he stood amid the grass just above them, dressed in fawn cotton slacks and a rather garish checked shirt, predominantly yellow in colour. His greying hair was swept back from his forehead, and his tanned skin shone with health.
‘Enjoying the morning, are we?’ the man went on. ‘It’s shaping up to be another lovely day, is it not.’
‘Looks like it,’ said Maggie Rose. As she spoke a second man appeared on the crest of the dune. Unlike his companion he was out of breath, despite the fact that he was around fifteen years younger. He was very attractive, with chestnut hair which caught and reflected the sun, and wearing a T-shirt and shorts which seemed to cling tightly to the curves and muscles of his body. He was also carrying a large blue nylon bag.
The older man looked over his shoulder and grinned. ‘You’re out of condition, Donovan,’ he pronounced, with mock-severity in his rolling tones.
‘I am carrying the bloody gear, David!’
He glanced down once more at the two women. ‘They don’t look after themselves, these young people, do they.’
‘Oh yes we do,’ said Karen, grinning.
‘Oh, but I didn’t mean to offend,’ the man responded, with a show of mock-contrition. ‘What brings you here?’ he went on quickly. ‘Let me guess; you’re sun-worshippers like us. You must be, since you’ve found our private place. D’you think we might join you? There should be room for us all.’
Rose nodded, smiling up at him. ‘We didn’t see any towels on sun-beds, so we didn’t know it was private. But sure, be our guests.’
David turned to Donovan, who dropped the bag in the clearing, unzipped it and produced two rush mats and two towels. ‘I have two spare mats,’ he said, in a voice much less cultured than that of his companion. ‘Would you like them?’
‘Thanks,’ said Karen, looking into his eyes and flashing him a smile. The young man produced two more rolled, red-trimmed strips and handed them across, but his gaze avoided hers.
‘I think I’ll swim now, David.’
‘Of course, my boy. I shall talk to the ladies.’
Donovan peeled off his cherry-red T-shirt, picked up one of the towels and plunged off down the dune. The three sat on their mats, watching him as he ran across the beach towards the water’s edge. He stopped just short of the hard, wet sand, dropped the towel, stepped out of his shorts, turned back towards them with a smile and a wave, then ran, naked, into the sea.
David made a tutting noise. ‘Frightful exhibitionist, the boy. I tell him time and time again not to do that, especially at weekends when it’s busy. That’s the sort of behaviour that brings the police out here.’
‘Only if someone complains to them,’ said Karen.
David eyed her thoughtfully for a moment. ‘That’s right,’ he agreed. ‘And you ladies wouldn’t, would you.’
‘No,’ said Rose, quietly. ‘But then we are the police.’
The man’s mouth fell open in surprise, but quickly his expression changed to one of anger. ‘Oh really,’ he burst out. ‘This persecution is just too much; I thought it was over, but apparently not. We don’t do any harm to anyone out here. Why can’t you leave us alone?’
‘David,’ Neville broke in, soothingly, ‘we’re not here to persecute anyone . . . although -’ she nodded her head towards the sea, and grinned ‘- if someone persists in flashing his impressive tackle in a public place we might have to prosecute him.
‘We’re looking for help.’
He looked at her doubtfully.
‘Really,’ said Maggie. ‘We are. I’m Detective Chief Inspector Rose and this is Detective Sergeant Neville. We’re engaged in a murder investigation. Didn’t you see our colleagues at the car park?’
‘No. We park in Gullane, then walk around the edge of the golf course.’
‘Well, don’t you read the newspapers?’
‘Never!’ said David vehemently. ‘I can’t stand newspapers: the way they assume the right to pry into everyone’s lives. Television’s just as bad these days. Donovan and I prefer just to run our little gallery and let the world get on with its own business.’
He looked across at Rose. ‘Where did this murder of yours take place?’
‘Here in the Nature Reserve, last Sunday.’ She pointed westwards, across the water. ‘A man was tied up in one of the old submarines out there, and left for the tide to come in.’
‘Oh, how awful! The poor chap, what it must have been like. Who was he?’
‘Have you ever heard of Lord Barnfather, the judge?’
David gave a gasp. ‘Oh no, surely not.’
‘You knew him?’ the DCI asked.
‘Yes. He was a customer of ours, at the gallery.’
‘Did you know he was gay?’
‘Of course I did, my dear. Oh, the poor old fellow!’
‘Were you here last Sunday by any chance, David?’ Karen Neville asked.
He nodded. ‘Yes. I only open the gallery from Monday to Friday during the Festival, for my business customers. We don’t go in for special exhibitions, so all the private buyers are usually elsewhere at weekends. The weather was fine last weekend, so we came down here on both days.’
‘Do you recall seeing Lord Barnfather here, on either day?’
David scratched his head. ‘One sees so many people here whom one knows. We saw His Lordship in the Reserve quite often.’
‘Do you mean on the beach?’ asked Rose.
‘Oh no,’ he replied, frowning. ‘He never came here with chums. He may have been an old queen, my dears, but he was also a serious bird-watcher.’
‘So, last weekend. Concentrate and think back. Did you see him?’
The man put his hands behind his head, fingers interlinked, and closed his eyes.
He sat there, motionless for almost a minute, until at last, his eyes opened. ‘Yes,’ he whispered. ‘I’m certain that I did. It was last Sunday, late in the afternoon.’ He turned and stretched out a hand, pointing westwards. ‘Over there, almost at the point at which the beach bends into the bay.’
‘Was he alone?’
‘No. He was with a man. They were both wearing outdoor clothes as I recall, and they were walking close together.’
‘How near to you were they?’ asked Rose.
David shrugged his round shoulders. ‘They were thirty, perhaps forty yards away.’
‘Did Lord Barnfather see you?’
‘No, I’m sure he didn’t.’
‘Did you call out to him?’
‘No. They seemed engrossed in their conversation.’
‘When you say they were close together,’ asked Neville, ‘how close?’
‘Their arms could have been linked.’
‘Or Lord Barnfather could have been held by an arm?’
David looked at her. ‘I suppose he could.’
‘In which direction were you walking?’ the sergeant asked.
‘East. I had been stretching my legs and I had just turned to come back here.’
‘And them?’
‘Westward.’
‘Towards the submarines?’
‘If they went that far, yes.’
‘And the tide?’
‘It was almost fully out.’
