Evil Under the Sun

Arlena Marshall’s attitude was the attitude of a sun-bather. So had she lain many a time on the beach by the hotel, her bronzed body outstretched and the green cardboard hat protecting her head and neck.

But there was no sun on Pixy’s Beach and there would be none for some hours yet. The overhanging cliff protected the beach from the sun in the morning. A vague feeling of apprehension came over Emily Brewster.

The boat grounded on the shingle. Patrick Redfern called:

‘Hullo, Arlena.’

And then Emily Brewster’s foreboding took definite shape. For the recumbent figure did not move or answer.

Emily saw Patrick Redfern’s face change. He jumped out of the boat and she followed him. They dragged the boat ashore then set off up the beach to where that white figure lay so still and unresponsive near the bottom of the cliff.

Patrick Redfern got there first but Emily Brewster was close behind him.

She saw, as one sees in a dream, the bronzed limbs, the white backless bathing-dress-the red curl of hair escaping under the jade-green hat-saw something else too-the curious unnatural angle of the outspread arms. Felt, in that minute, that this body had notlain down but had been thrown…

She heard Patrick’s voice-a mere frightened whisper. He knelt down beside that still form-touched the hand-the arm…

He said in a low shuddering whisper:

‘My God, she’s dead…’ 

And then, as he lifted the hat a little, peered at the neck:

‘Oh, God, she’s been strangled…murdered.’

VI

It was one of those moments when time stands still.

With an odd feeling of unreality Emily Brewster heard herself saying:

‘We musn’t touch anything…Not until the police come.’

Redfern’s answer came mechanically.

‘No-no-of course not.’ And then in a deep agonized whisper. ‘Who?Who? Who could have done that to Arlena. She can’t have-have been murdered. It can’t be true!’

Emily Brewster shook her head, not knowing quite what to answer.

She heard him draw in his breath-heard the low controlled rage in his voice as he said:

‘My God, if I get my hands on the foul fiend who did this.’

Emily Brewster shivered. Her imagination pictured a lurking murderer behind one of the boulders. Then she heard her voice saying:

‘Whoever did it wouldn’t be hanging about. We must get the police. Perhaps-’ she hesitated-‘one of us ought to stay with-with the body.’

Patrick Redfern said:

‘I’ll stay.’

Emily Brewster drew a little sigh of relief. She was not the kind of woman who would ever admit to feeling fear, but she was secretly thankful not to have to remain on that beach alone with the faint possibility of a homicidal maniac lingering close at hand.

She said:

‘Good. I’ll be as quick as I can. I’ll go in the boat. Can’t face that ladder. There’s a constable at Leathercombe Bay.’

Patrick Redfern murmured mechanically:

‘Yes-yes, whatever you think best.’

As she rowed vigorously away from the shore, Emily Brewster saw Patrick drop down beside the dead woman and bury his head in his hands. There was something so forlorn about his attitude that she felt an unwilling sympathy. He looked like a dog watching by its dead master. Nevertheless her robust common sense was saying to her:

‘Best thing that could have happened for him and his wife-and for Marshall and the child-but I don’t supposehe can see it that way, poor devil.’

Emily Brewster was a woman who could always rise to an emergency.

Chapter 5

I

Inspector Colgate stood back by the cliff waiting for the police-surgeon to finish with Arlena’s body. Patrick Redfern and Emily Brewster stood a little to one side.

Dr Neasden rose from his knees with a quick deft movement.

He said:

‘Strangled-and by a pretty powerful pair of hands. She doesn’t seem to have put up much of a struggle. Taken by surprise. H’m-well-nasty business.’

Emily Brewster had taken one look and then quickly averted her eyes from the dead woman’s face. That horrible purple convulsed countenance.

Inspector Colgate asked:

‘What about time of death?’

Neasden said irritably: 

‘Can’t say definitely without knowing more about her. Lots of factors to take into account. Let’s see, it’s quarter to one now. What time was it when you found her?’

Patrick Redfern, to whom the question was addressed, said vaguely:

‘Some time before twelve. I don’t know exactly.’

Emily Brewster said:

‘It was exactly a quarter to twelve when we found she was dead.’

‘Ah, and you came here in the boat. What time was it when you caught sight of her lying here?’

Emily Brewster considered.

‘I should say we rounded the point about five or six minutes earlier.’ She turned to Redfern. ‘Do you agree?’

He said vaguely:

‘Yes-yes-about that, I should think.’

Neasden asked the Inspector in a low voice:

‘This the husband? Oh! I see, my mistake. Thought it might be. He seems rather done in over it.’

He raised his voice officially.

‘Let’s put it at twenty minutes to twelve. She cannot have been killed very long before that. Say between then and eleven-quarter to eleven at the earliest outside limit.’

The Inspector shut his notebook with a snap.