Guilty Passion by Laurey Bright

Guinea after he fell, up in the mountains, and his struggle to get out and find medical help.”
    â€œYeah, I remember. Quite a heroic story. He seems to have been some guy. For a man who’d been so active, it must have been a shock to realise he’d need help just to walk, for the rest of his life.”
    â€œYes, it was. And to realise that field work, which he had made his speciality, was closed to him. And the kind of TV documentary he used to do, with the film crew following him into some remote location, wasn’t possible any more.”
    â€œHe did appear on TV a few times quite recently, though, didn’t he? I’m sure I’ve seen him.”
    â€œOh, yes. But even when he was able to use a cane, he wouldn’t let them film him moving about. It was strictly armchair shots or behind a desk. After the accident, he changed to writing and lecturing on his subject and doing research analysis.”
    â€œEthan was very proud of him. He said Alec had made a success of his second career, just as he had with the first. With your help, I guess?”
    Celeste said, “When we were first married. . . he did like to give me some of the credit.”
    Jeff cast her a thoughtful glance, and she wondered if she had said a little too much. Changing the subject, she asked, “How is the writing going?”
    â€œAt the moment it isn’t.” He grimaced. “I had this idea for a great new thriller, and the first two chapters flowed like water, but now I’m stuck. Sometimes a bit of physical activity helps.”
    â€œAnd has it helped?”
    â€œDon’t know yet. The trick is to think of something totally different for a couple of hours, then go and stare at the screen and see what happens. At least, that’s my method.” He raised a hand in greeting to someone behind her, making her look around. “Have you met the Palmers?” he asked her.
    Celeste shook her head, and he said, “Well, I’ll introduce you, then.”
    The couple were in their sixties, Henry Palmer erect and white-haired, his wife Janice a head shorter than her husband, with greying curls and an aristocratic nose.
    â€œWe retired here,” she told Celeste. “But Henry never retired really. He’s still available to people by appointment or in an emergency, although he has no regular clinic. We set up a small surgery at the house, and he has just enough business to keep him from subsiding into senility.” She threw a teasing glance at her husband.
    â€œWell, I had to have something to do while you mucked about with your paints and stuff,” he grumbled affectionately.
    â€œYou’re an artist?” Celeste asked.
    â€œOnly an amateur one,” Janice said. “But I have sold a few paintings to the tourists.”
    â€œShe’s a very good amateur,” her husband said loyally. “I prefer her landscapes and seascapes to some of those outlandish daubings you see in art galleries, with outrageous prices on them.”
    â€œThat’s because you know nothing about art, darling,” his wife told him. “But I’m very glad there are people like you who are willing to take my work off my hands and pay me for it into the bargain.”
    â€œI’m surprised you haven’t met Celeste before,” Jeff told them. “She’s on the beach almost every day.”
    â€œWe’ve been away visiting friends on the mainland,” Henry told him. “We read about your husband’s death,” he added to Celeste. “Tragic business. Very sorry to hear about it.”
    Janice added her condolences, and then said, “You must all come over for dinner one evening. You and Ethan and Jeff. It’s a while since we’ve got together. I’ll phone Ethan about it tonight.”
    Celeste half expected that Ethan would plead pressure of work and turn down the invitation, but instead he told her they were invited for