Scandalous Behavior

60

Rain fell hard on the roof of the country church, and its pews were full, with others standing at the rear, as last services were conducted for Sir Charles Bourne. As the service ended, the rain stopped and sunshine began to pour through the stained-glass windows.

The grave had been sheltered from the storm by a tent, and this was taken away as the crowd assembled at the burial site. Another short ceremony was conducted, along with a final prayer, and the pallbearers lowered the coffin into its receptacle.

As the crowd lined up to offer their condolences to the widow, then drifted back toward the car park, Stone saw Lady Bourne in conversation with Deputy Chief Inspector Holmes. He tipped his hat and left her to deal with the last mourners.

Stone caught up with the policeman in the car park. “Did Lady Bourne have anything new to say to you?” he asked.

“There was a deathbed confession,” Holmes replied. “Your theory was confirmed.”

“Is there anything else to be done?”

“No, I don’t think so. My chief inspector will feel the same way, I think. I understand you’ve a wedding this evening.”

“That’s correct — a double wedding, actually.”

“Then please offer my best wishes to the four of them.”

“I will do that.”

The two men shook hands, and Holmes drove away.

The ceremony took place in the great hall at Curtis House, officiated by two priests, an Anglican and a Catholic. Close to forty guests had arrived from London and the States.

Stone stood with Dino and Viv, plus Mary Ann Bacchetti, Ben’s mother. “They’re a handsome group, aren’t they?” Mary Ann observed of the crowd. “They all look right out of Central Casting as a Hollywood crowd.”

“And none handsomer than the celebrants,” Dino added.

“Isn’t this where the brides and grooms are supposed to make their escapes for their respective honeymoons?” Viv asked.

“There’s a Centurion Studios Gulfstream waiting for them at the airstrip,” Stone said. “They’ll sleep in Cannes tonight. After the honeymoon, the airplane will come back here to pick up a few others of the crew, then fly them all, nonstop, back to Los Angeles.”

“And when are you all going back?” Mary Ann asked.

“Tomorrow morning, in my airplane. May we give you a lift back to New York?”

“Thank you, but I’m spending a few days in London with friends, as long as I’m on this side of the pond. Can your airplane make the trip nonstop?”

“No, we’ll stop for fuel at Santa Maria, in the Azores, then again at St. John’s, Newfoundland, thence to Teterboro.”

There was a move of the crowd toward the front door, to wave off the happy couples, then the party resumed without them.

The following morning their luggage was loaded aboard the Citation CJ3 Plus, and Stone ran through his checklists, then taxied to the end of the runway and took off. Turning west, with the sun at their backs, the light jet climbed to forty thousand feet and was cleared on course to Santa Maria.

Late that night, tired from his long flight, Stone slept in his own New York bed. Once, he had to get up and he was disoriented, thinking he was still at Windward House.

By tomorrow morning he would have made the adjustment, except for the jet lag.

He already missed England.