The Complete H-Series of The Eulalie Park Mysteries

by Fiona Snyckers

  The dog was rewarded and praised and encouraged to get back onto his grid. The final alert came at about eleven-thirty that morning. Sibongile and her beagle had ventured to the furthest limit of their grid, onto a piece of land that was on the western border of Robson’s Field. The dog showed a strong alert, and his handler called them over.

  “There’s definitely something here, Chief. So, unless you’re going to tell me there’s yet another old site here, I think you should start digging.

  As Chief Macgregor called his team of crime scene technicians over to investigate, Eulalie fought down a sense of dread and sadness. She hadn’t really expected the dogs to find anything today - not something connected to the case. It made her feel ill to think of a third woman falling victim to the man she had met in Finger Alley.

  But perhaps she was jumping to conclusions. A historical site like this could have any number of bodies buried there.

  She watched as the technicians went to work, carefully excavating the area. Every now and then, the dog would be called in to give them direction. The deeper they dug, the more strongly he alerted.

  After a while, Chief Macgregor gave an order and all the technicians retreated from the site to put on face masks. Whatever they were unearthing, it was clearly not pleasant.

  It was frustrating to have to stand so far back and watch, but everyone apart from the crime scene techs had been ordered to stay away to avoid contaminating the scene.

  A ripple of consternation seemed to flow through the technicians. They began talking in fast whispers. Just as Eulalie’s curiosity was about to outweigh her discretion, Chief Macgregor came over to tell her what had happened.

  “It’s a woman, judging by her clothes,” he said. “At least a decade old, maybe more. There’s something tied around her right wrist. It is damp and impregnated with mud, but when we get it back to the lab I’m sure we’re going to find that it was once a red ribbon. It’s him again, Eulalie. He has killed three times.”

  The dogs completed the grid and found nothing further. At Chief Macgregor’s suggestion, the handlers expanded the grid beyond the boundaries of Robson’s Field and walked their dogs up and down there too. There were no more alerts.

  The medical examiner’s van came trundling up the dirt road to collect the body that had been carefully excavated.

  “Do you think that’s it?” asked Eulalie.

  “Unless we’ve missed something. I hope we’ll be luckier in matching dental records than we were with Fauve. The sooner we can get this woman identified the better. She may have friends and family who still don’t know what happened to her. I’d like to be able to change that.”

  “There’s no question that it’s the same killer, is there?” she asked.

  “Not in my mind. The red ribbon might have leaked in the last few days, but nobody knew about it ten years ago when this body was buried. The only person who knew about it was the killer.”

  “I had a dream last night.”

  Chief Macgregor turned to look at her. “Did you see what happened?”

  “I experienced it from my mother’s perspective. I know he picked her up on the day she arrived in Queen’s Town. She was overwhelmed by how kind he was to her and chose to overlook the darkness she could see in him.”

  “Did you see what he looked like?”

  “No. She wasn’t thinking about that. She had very little interest in him for his own sake. He bought her an ice-cream. He showed her the sights and listened sympathetically when she told him her life story. She found that intoxicating – to be listened to. He took her driving in his red convertible.”

  “A red convertible? Are you sure?”

  “Yes. It made a big impression on her. She was such a child, Donal. She was just a little girl, completely out of her depth in a strange place. Her trip to Queen’s Town was a final jaunt before settling down to motherhood in the village.”

  “So, her friends were right. She was coming back.”

  “Yes.” Tears burned in Eulalie’s eyes. “She was coming back.”

  He brushed her arm with his fingertips. “Is there anything else you can tell me?”

  “He drove her from town to Robson’s Field, telling her there was something he wanted to show her. He walked her out into the middle of the field and encouraged her to walk ahead of him. Then he struck her once from behind with something very hard. She didn’t see it coming and she died instantly. He didn’t do anything else to her.” She was giving voice to one of Angel’s greatest fears. “She was a stranger and he killed her, just like he killed Lisa Lavalle, and that other poor soul. I have no idea why.”

  Chapter 15

  Eulalie knew there was no point in waiting around. Robson’s Field had yielded up its last secret.

  The dogs and their handlers were leaving. They would fly back to Johannesburg the next day. It was time for Eulalie to get on with her investigation.

  She took the Coast Road back towards town. Instead of turning right to Lafayette Drive, she kept on going, bypassing Queen’s Town and heading out toward the industrial area that the town planners had deemed suitable for the warehouses, office parks and depots that weren’t picturesque enough for the old town.

  Laurent Task’s archery school was somewhere here. Eulalie knew she had driven past it before. Her sense of direction seldom led her astray.

  “There we go.”

  A signboard for Task’s School of Archery came into view. She turned down a dirt road and approached slowly, taking stock of everything.

  Laurent Task had put his knowledge and reputation to good purpose. A smart clubhouse welcomed visitors and invited them to enjoy a drink or a meal at the restaurant. There was a covered pavilion where spectators could watch the shooting. Several ranges had been set up at a careful distance from each other. One was obviously intended for tournaments. Eulalie could see that it complied with international standards.

  There was a baby range that catered for children up to the age of eight. At this time of day, it was full of preschoolers and their parents taking advantage of the morning classes.

  Then there was a range for older children and adult amateurs. The targets were full-sized and set up at various distances, according to the international metric system, from six meters to fifty meters.

  Signboards invited clients to ‘Train with the Best - Olympian Laurent Task.’ Eulalie parked her Vespa and made her way to the clubhouse entrance. There was an enquiries desk staffed by a young man who was talking on the phone. He wrapped up his conversation as soon as he saw her approach.

  “Good morning.” He glanced at a clock on the wall. “Or rather, good afternoon. How may I help?”

  “I’d like to speak to Laurent Task please.”

  “He’s teaching right now, but you will definitely get to meet him if you sign up for lessons. He is very hands-on. Are you interested in a beginner’s course?”

  Eulalie took out her private investigator’s card and police liaison card and laid them side by side on his desk.

  “My name is Eulalie Park. I’m working with the Queen’s Town police in investigating a murder. We believe Mr. Task may have information as a witness. Can you interrupt his lesson and tell him I’m here please?”

  The young man’s face didn’t flicker. Either he was used to visits from the police, or it didn’t occur to him that Laurent Task could be suspected of anything.

  Eulalie took a closer look at his face – the curve of the nose and chin, the coloring.

  “Are you his son?”

  “That’s right. I’m Laurie. I’m one of the coaches too, if you are interested in taking lessons. It’s a great way to keep fit. It gives you tremendous core stability and a very strong back.”

  “I’ll bear that in mind.”

  “Great!” His smile was wider than it needed to be. Eulalie hoped she wasn’t about to be hit on by a twenty-year-old.

  “Your father?” she prompted.

  “Oh, yes.” He stood up. “Wait a moment w
hile I go and fetch him.”

  Eulalie watched through the window as the young man hurried out the clubhouse to the mid-level range where a retired couple were being coached by a tall, well-built man. She realized she was looking at Laurent Task. Unlike Ronald Coward, he hadn’t let himself go in middle age. He was still in excellent shape.

  With a word of apology to the retired couple, Task turned and walked back to the clubhouse with his son.

  “Good afternoon, Ms. Park.” He pumped her hand and smiled as though she had made his day by being there. “Welcome to Task’s School of Archery.”

  Eulalie paid attention to her own reaction as he clasped her hand and looked into her eyes. There was nothing - no flicker of a reaction. It was as though she were shaking hands with a total stranger. She looked down at his arm with its lightly tanned skin and dark hairs turning grey in places. Again, there was no recognition.

  “Did your son explain why I was here, Mr. Task?”

  “Certainly, certainly. I’ll be delighted to help in any way I can. I presume this has to do with the three bodies that have been found in Robson’s Field?”

  “That’s right.”

  “It’s been all over the media for days. Tragic. And very atypical of our sleepy little island, I’m happy to say. My wife is in a state. She’s scared to go out alone. Anything I can do to help the authorities bring this person to justice, please just ask.”

  “Is there somewhere we can talk, Mr. Task? An office, perhaps?”

  “It’s much too beautiful a day to be cooped up in an office.” He swept his hand sideways to indicate the great outdoors. It was a salesman’s gesture, and one he shared with Ronald Coward. “Let me give you a tour of the grounds while we talk. Who knows – you might come back and sign up for lessons yourself.”

  Eulalie suppressed a sigh. Now she wouldn’t be able to take notes. This man had a lot of excess energy. Forcing him to do the interview indoors would make him twitchy and less likely to cooperate.

  “That’s fine, Mr. Task, but I hope you’ll be comfortable if I record our conversation. Normally, I’d take notes, but if we’re going to be walking around…”

  “Say no more. Record away. I want you to relax and enjoy the experience.”

  He took her to see the baby range first.

  “You mentioned your wife, Mr. Task,” Eulalie said, as they stood and watched the four and five-year-olds being coached. Is that the same Marie who accompanied you to the Sydney Olympic Games as your fiancée?”

  “I see you’ve done your homework on me. Yes, that’s her. We left the kids with her mother and went to Sydney together. We got married within a couple of months of getting back.”

  “Were the Games a disappointment to you, in terms of how you performed individually?”

  “Not at all! I was honored to be there. I still have to pinch myself when I think that I was an Olympian. You know I went to Athens four years later as well?”

  “Yes, I saw that.”

  “I did much better in Athens. I got through to the medal round of the men’s individual competition. That was a huge honor. And as you can see, I’ve managed to leverage my Olympic experience into a thriving business.” Another expansive gesture. “Believe me, Ms. Park, I have no complaints.”

  They moved onto the middle-grade range where the retired couple were still shooting at targets. Their distance was ten meters.

  “Beautiful shooting, David and Bonny,” Task called. “Keep up the good work!”

  “Seventy meters is the standard Olympic distance, isn’t it?”

  “That’s right. Not a lot of people know that.”

  “I believe you got into trouble in the Olympic Village for drunkenness after you were eliminated from the Round of Thirty-Three.”

  Task’s hesitation was barely noticeable.

  “What can I say? I was young and stupid. I was disappointed at having been eliminated. I had too much to drink, and I behaved badly. It was nothing serious – just disorderly behavior, but I regret it. You’re an ambassador for your country when you go to the Olympic Games. I’m happy to say that nothing like that happened in Athens.”

  He looked solemn for a moment. Then his smile reasserted itself.

  “Let me show you our tournament range. It’s my pride and joy. The Prince William Island Annual Invitational is now a major event on the archery calendar. Queen’s Town has become a destination city for archers. You must see this – you’re going to love it.”

  He led her to the beautiful outdoor range she had noticed when she arrived. She had to acknowledge that it was something to be proud of.

  “Watch this.” He popped into a storage area and came out carrying a compound bow and a quiver of arrows.

  “You mentioned that seventy meters is the standard Olympic distance. This is seventy meters.”

  Firing at a measured pace, he shot off five arrows, achieving a very respectable grouping on the target.

  “Well done.”

  He frowned. “I can do better.”

  Instead of retrieving his arrows, he took another quiver from the storeroom and moved to a different target.

  “Do you favor a compound bow?” asked Eulalie. “Is there any truth to the rumor that there will be a compound event at the Olympics soon?”

  “I doubt it. Creating a compound event has no appeal because it doesn’t add anything for the spectators. Compound bows aren’t popular enough worldwide yet.”

  He shot off another five arrows with similar results.

  “Nice,” said Eulalie.

  “It’s harder than it looks,” he said, as though she had criticized him. “You should try it to see how difficult it is.”

  “I don’t like compound bows.”

  His eyes lit with interest. “You shoot? You should have said so from the beginning. What kind of bow do you prefer?”

  “A recurve. I like a traditional bow.”

  “So, you’re a bareback girl? No sights, no stabilizers.”

  “Woman,” Eulalie corrected. “And, yes.”

  “It means a loss of accuracy over distance.”

  “Not in my hands. A traditional bow is just as powerful as a standard recurve.”

  “I’m talking about the human error factor. Nobody can shoot that accurately over seventy meters. Well, not many people.”

  Eulalie smiled. She was about to ask her next question when a voice hailed them.

  “Laurent! There you are.”

  They turned to see a woman of about Task’s own age walking briskly towards them. She was smartly dressed in a skirt suit and heels.

  Task greeted her with a kiss on the cheek.

  “Ms. Park, may I introduce my wife, Marie? She’s our office manager. Ms. Park is with the police, darling. They’re investigating the murders at Robson’s Field.”

  Marie Task looked tense. “The women? It’s such an awful thing. I can’t get over it. That poor young girl snatched just a couple of days ago. I believe the police are still questioning her boyfriend. I actually want it to be him. Is that a terrible thing to say? It is, isn’t it? But I can’t help it. If it were him, it would mean that it didn’t have anything to do with Prince William Island. I can’t bear the thought that there’s a murderer living among us.”

  “I know how you feel, honey,” said Task.

  “And that poor young girl from all those years ago. No more than fourteen or fifteen she was, I believe. Who would do such a thing to a baby like that?”

  “We may never know,” said Task.

  Marie Task heaved a deep sigh.

  “What are you two doing out here? I could make up a tray of coffee and cookies and have it sent to your office, darling.”

  Task smiled. “Ms. Park here wanted to see our set-up. She was telling me how accurately she can shoot without a sight or a stabilizer.”

  “Don’t you need a special bow for that? What is it called again?”

  “A traditional bow,” said Eulalie. “And I just said that I preferred it.�
�

  Task chuckled. He held up a hand to indicate that the women should wait for him and disappeared into the storeroom. When he reappeared, he was holding a bow and another quiver of arrows.

  “Let’s see you put your money where your mouth is, Ms. Park. See if you can beat my grouping with this traditional bow. I’ll let you stand at twenty-five feet.”

  “You’re an Olympian, Mr. Task. I’m sure I can’t beat your grouping.”

  He held out the bow to her. “Oh, go on. Let’s see how you do. I’m giving myself a handicap of forty-five meters, remember. The only people I see shooting without sights and stabilizers these days are five years old. Let’s see what you can do.”

  “Darling, if she doesn’t want to…”

  “Of course, she does. Otherwise I’m going to think she was kidding about being into traditional bows. Not many girls are.”

  “Women.”

  Eulalie’s hand flickered and the next moment she was holding both the bow and the quiver. Task frowned, as though he were wondering how that had happened. Then he shrugged and said, “The twenty-five-meter line is marked in pink up ahead.”

  “Seventy meters is fine.”

  She drew out one of the arrows and inspected it. It wasn’t a work of art like some she had shot, but it was perfectly weighted and balanced, and more than up to the job. She adopted an archer’s stance and locked her back muscles, stabilizing her body from her core. She levelled the bow and pulled the string back all the way to the corner of her mouth. The draw-weight of the bow was about thirty pounds - adequate for the distance.

  She sighted down the range at her target. Then she aimed her bow somewhat above the bullseye. Releasing her breath slowly, she let go of the string.

  The arrow had barely left her bow when she was loading up the next one and firing that too. She shot five in quick succession before lowering her bow.

  There was a smattering of applause from behind her.

  “Oh, very well done indeed. Look, Laurent. Her grouping is better than yours. I’ve never seen anyone shoot that far and accurately without a sight.”