Chapter 42
FORTY-TWO
“Where the bloody hell have you been?” Rhys exclaimed as soon as he answered the call. “I’ve been trying to reach you for two days. I was beginning to think something happened to you too.”
“I’m all right. We had to get away for a few days.”
“Why? What’s happened?”
“I’d rather not go into it.”
“Is it to do with Logan?” Rhys asked.
“Yes.”
Quinn was acutely aware of the pain and the sense of defeat in her voice and hated how low she had been brought in only a few days.
The human psyche was remarkably resilient, yet the very mechanisms that allowed it to adapt to unforeseen circumstances could also lull one into a false sense of security.
When everything seemed to be going well, it was easy to believe one was safe and that nothing truly dreadful could happen.
And yet terrible, painful things occurred all the time, often lying in wait just around the corner, ready to strike when least expected.
She had found her footing again after the events of the past few years.
Though she still grieved for those she had lost, she had begun to make her peace with it.
But now, once again, the unthinkable had happened, and this time she didn’t even know what it was, which made it all the more difficult to process.
“Tell me when you feel ready,” Rhys said and immediately moved on, having understood that she needed to talk of something else. “I have a call in to Andie Parke’s agent. I think she would be perfect as Geneva.”
“Yes, I can see the resemblance,” Quinn said, her mind instantly going to the last role she’d seen Andie Parke in.
She had portrayed a young Agatha Christie in a film adaptation of the author’s life.
Few women’s looks were enhanced by shingled hair plastered to the scalp, eyebrows plucked into nearly invisible lines, and dresses that resembled shapeless sacks, flattering only to the thinnest and most boyish of figures, but Andie had managed to look lovely, nonetheless, and would do Geneva justice.
“Any thoughts for Honor?” Quinn asked.
“We’ll have to tap a lesser-known actress,” Rhys replied. “We don’t have the budget for a high-profile cast. And we still need to find our male leads. Have you learned anything new since we last talked?” he asked carefully.
“Yes, I’ve traveled to 1923 several times,” Quinn said. “Mostly to escape.”
“And?” Rhys instantly perked up.
“Geneva had some difficult decisions to make, and she was understandably conflicted.”
“Do tell.”
Quinn could almost hear Rhys shifting into a more comfortable position as he settled in to hear the story.
That was the bitter reality of history: for those who lived through it, events were often heartbreaking and life-altering, but, for those who came after, even the most heinous acts were transformed into entertainment.
To this day, films and novels about the world wars dominated the bestseller charts and the box offices, proof that people enjoyed immersing themselves in another’s suffering, however unsettling parts of it might be.
Murder mysteries, true crime especially, remained bestselling genres.
What did that say about mankind? Was it cathartic, a way of empathizing with the victims and making sense of the horror, or was it simply a diversion—a few hours spent exploring someone else’s misery while sitting comfortably on the sofa, snacks to hand?
“Well, go on, then,” Rhys urged.
And Quinn had to admit that she would much rather discuss Geneva’s tragedy than focus on the one unfolding in her own life.
“Geneva had become involved with the estate manager, Rory Sullivan.”
“Typical,” Rhys remarked. “Was she playing Lady Chatterley to her working-class lover?”
“She was,” Quinn admitted, though she resented Rhys’s callous tone.
But, of course, to him Geneva was just an idea, not a real young woman in whose head he’d spent countless hours, thinking her thoughts and feeling her emotional pain.
“Rory was Geneva’s first romantic experience, and she was unhappy and confused.”
“So not exploring her budding sexuality, then?”
“Not quite.”
“Shame, that. First love is always precious, even if it’s all wrong,” Rhys said wistfully. “The highs and the lows, the greedy exploration of each other’s bodies and minds. The exquisite agony of parting, and then the ecstasy of coming together again.”
“Are you quite finished, Shakespeare?” Quinn asked with a chuckle.
“I take it you don’t have bittersweet memories of your first love?”
“No. He was an absolute wanker. And, if Facebook is anything to go by, still is.”
“Oh, dear.”
“Do you mind if we get back to Geneva now?”
“Not in the least,” Rhys replied.
Despite her annoyance, Quinn couldn’t help but be amused.
That was the thing about Rhys, he always knew how to distract her from her problems and make her feel better without relying on patronizing platitudes and empty promises.
Whatever happened happened, and at the end of it all Rhys was still there, steadfast in his friendship.
“Rory asked Geneva to marry him, but she had serious reservations about the relationship.”
“She didn’t love him?”
“Geneva was an inexperienced young woman whose only points of reference were the novels and films she had seen. And she and Rory had some very real differences that became more pronounced as they got to know each other. Rory was Catholic, which would make life difficult for them both, especially if they remained in England. He gave Geneva the claddagh ring she was wearing at the time of her death.”
“So, she accepted his proposal, then?” Rhys asked.
“She must have,” Quinn mused, although, from what she had seen, it didn’t seem likely that Geneva would have changed her mind. And she had clearly not worn Rory’s ring for any length of time, since Quinn had been unable to see even the briefest of memories.
“Just before Christmas, Rory told Geneva that he had a job offer in Pennsylvania. It was an opportunity not to be missed, and he was going to leave at the start of the new year. He asked her to come with him or join him when she was able, but I don’t think she ever seriously considered it.”
“Why not?” Rhys asked. “It would have been a way out for them.”
“She felt guilty about leaving Honor and dashing her father’s hopes. If she married Jesse, she wouldn’t have to give anything up. And I think she was genuinely attracted to him.”
“What was he like?”
Quinn considered the question. The truth was that Jesse Bellamy had come as a surprise even to her.
He was attractive, charming, and brave. The aircraft he would have flown during the war would have been little more than wood, wire, and stiffened canvas, the contraption held together by skill and nerve.
And he must have volunteered in England if he had flown with the Royal Flying Corps out of Kent.
Jesse had made no promises about the future, but he appeared to be fond of Geneva, and, all things considered, the situation could have been far worse.
“He was rather dazzling, actually—a fine prospect for Geneva,” Quinn said. “I have yet to find out more about him, but I think he exceeded anyone’s hopes.”
“That must have put a spanner in the works for the estate manager,” Rhys mused. “He must have expected someone old and unpleasant, and in walked this Prince Charming.”
“Geneva thought Rory might have been trying to sow seeds of conflict between her and Honor.”
“In what way?”
“Rory made it clear that Honor was jealous and would gladly stab Geneva in the back if that got her what she wanted. He told Geneva that her sister had made a play for him.”
“And what do you think? Would Honor betray Geneva in that way?” Rhys sounded hopeful, since romantic rivalry always made for good television and offered a credible motive for murder.
“I’m the wrong person to ask.”
Quinn could barely suppress the bitterness that had taken root in her soul. It wasn’t so long ago that her own sister had tried to seduce Gabe, and knowing that her husband’s betrayal would cause Quinn unbearable pain had probably been an added incentive.
“I’m sorry,” Rhys said softly. “That was insensitive.”
“It’s not your fault Jo tried to destroy my life. But I didn’t sense malice from Honor. I think she loved Geneva and looked up to more than envied her.”
She hadn’t sensed malice from Jo either, but she had been dead wrong to trust her sister. Perhaps Honor was just as good at keeping her true feelings to herself.
“Did Rory Sullivan know about the well?” Rhys asked in an obvious attempt to steer the conversation away from Jo and the deadly consequences of her choices.
“He did, but so did Jesse. He came upon Rory and Geneva having a heart-to-heart by the well and even asked about it.”
“Would he have had reason to murder Geneva? Perhaps he found out about her and Rory and saw it as a betrayal?”
“I really can’t answer that, not yet. Our only real clue is the ring.”
“Which points to Rory Sullivan, since he never reported her missing and presumably continued with his plans.”
“But why would he leave such an obvious clue? Surely, if he had been responsible, he would have removed the ring.”
“Maybe he didn’t realize she was wearing it,” Rhys suggested.
“Or maybe the real killer wanted to frame him. Geneva thought someone had gone through her jewelry box. If they had, they would have known about the ring.”
“What do we know about Rory Sullivan?” Rhys asked. “Did he go to America as he planned?”
“I’ve been advised not to access the internet, so I haven’t been able to research any of the players.”
“When are you back?”
“Tomorrow night. Jude was meant to come today, but there was a power outage at Stuttgart.”
“Yeah, I saw on the news. All flights are grounded. It seems a transformer blew. It shouldn’t take long to repair, but I doubt Jude will be flying out today.”
“No, he won’t,” Quinn agreed.
“I’m sorry for what you’re going through. It’s unfair that one person should have so much to contend with.”
“Drew said there’s no such thing as a celestial scale that measures out pain in equal doses.”
“No, but some people sure seem to be born under a lucky star,” Rhys said dreamily.
“Like who?”
“I’ll let you know when I meet them,” he teased. “I consider myself lucky, though. I never imagined I would get to be this happy. I had given up on the idea of meeting my soulmate, and then love walked into my life when I least expected it. All thanks to you.”
“It wasn’t me, it was destiny,” Quinn joked.
“I don’t believe in destiny. I believe in mathematics.”
“Sorry, you lost me.”
“We’re all a statistic, Quinn. The only question is which column you wind up in.”
“That’s rather a cynical view.”
“It’s not cynical, it’s realistic. No one knows what’s meant for any of us, but, if we try to be good people and make reasonably well-informed choices, we might avoid becoming a cautionary tale.”
“Every choice we make leads us down a particular path,” Quinn said. “And Geneva must have made a decision that resulted in her death. The only questions that remain are what that decision was and who made the choice to end her life.”
“Whoever it was, this promises to be a riveting episode,” Rhys said. “A young woman caught between two very different men, a fortune at stake, and a sister who may have had an agenda of her own. That’s television gold.”
“If you say so,” Quinn said with a soft chuckle. “Now, let me see what I can learn before Gabe and the kids get back.”
“Go to it. And I hope you hear from Logan soon.”
“Thank you. So do I.”
Quinn set aside her mobile and pulled out the case with the earring from her pocket.