BODY ON THE ISLAND a gripping murder mystery packed with twists (Smart Woman's Mystery Book 2)

by VICTORIA DOWD

  ‘Yes, I told you he was. I suppose I could’ve told you he was Tutankhamun and you’d have believed me.’

  ‘Tutankhamun, as in the mummy?’ Aunt Charlotte was lost again.

  One by one, we started to move gradually towards the door. We kept our eyes on Jess. Then we started to move quicker, until we were basically jostling our way out of the room.

  As I looked at the floor on our way out, I noticed something else I hadn’t seen before, near the bottom of Bottlenose’s shoe. I bent down to look at it. It was a small cream-coloured splash on the floor. I reached out and touched it. It was candle wax.

  ‘Ursula, come on.’ Mother was growing impatient. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘There’s candle wax on the floor.’

  ‘That’s because there’s no electricity,’ she sighed. ‘Did you think we lit all those candles for a romantic atmosphere?’

  ‘No, I . . .’ I shrugged. ‘I just didn’t think anyone had brought one up here.’

  I looked at Jess, the strange grin still on her face, her green eyes glaring at me.

  CHAPTER 28: THE BAREFOOTED MAN

  A sullen sky watched us as we scrambled out of the door and across the grass. For a moment, I felt strangely separate, as if I was no longer part of any of this. I was just a bystander. Not an unfamiliar feeling for me.

  I paused at the threshold. Did we all really believe this new theory? As the cold air hit me and I stood outside the grim confines of that house, it seemed much more likely someone who was among the living had perpetrated these crimes. Perhaps it had just been a lot easier to make it someone outside our group.

  I watched them: all arrayed in a line, stomping out to the chapel. One of them was perhaps a murderer. They stumbled through the long scrub grass. Towards what? Discovery? What did they hope to find? It suddenly seemed so ridiculous. It made no sense. There was no reason to it. Why would Jess and her fiancé hide his death so he could sneak out to kill people? Why would they even want to kill Angel and Bottlenose? Angel and Bottlenose had no obvious connection beyond being on this trip together, and neither had had any previous knowledge of Jess and Ryan. Not that we knew of, anyway. They’d hidden it well if they did. But Angel or Bottlenose were not the kind of men to have let that go unmentioned. If they’d known them in some way they’d have said, wouldn’t they?

  I turned to see Jess slowly walking down the stairs. I moved out of the door. She didn’t seem to be racing to stop them, to stop some crazed discovery about her undead boyfriend. She wasn’t scared of what they would find in that chapel. She had no fear left. The worst thing that could have happened to her had happened and she had cried those bitter tears of grief. That couldn’t possibly have been an act — her desperate loss, her new-found desolation. Surely she hadn’t been faking it all this time? Had I been taken in by her grief?

  And what of Spear and Kemp running out in front as if this was some assault course training exercise? They really were racing as if there was something there to find, as if they had to get there first. It could just have been competition but both of them had attracted enough reasons for suspicion to fall on them. Spear knew those beads were poisonous. He must have known all along.

  I watched him now scrambling over the dunes. He’d run back so quickly after we’d found Kemp’s boat. Spear had made sure he was the first back. Then Bottlenose was killed with his knife. He’d certainly shown enough aggression to be capable of it — on the boat hurling the rucksacks over because Angel and Nell were close. Had Angel paid for his indiscretion? Angel had made no secret that he’d spread his love charms around. And it was certainly no secret that Nell had a past that drove Spear to jealous rage. He’d admitted as much and that they were separating, getting a divorce. He’d even physically fought with Angel.

  As they ran, Spear elbowed Kemp out of the way. There’d definitely been a tension between those two from the very beginning. And what about Kemp? His washed-up commando routine was wearing as thin as his hair. Just how long had he been here on the island? I’d seen those witch lights out there since our first night. Something was making them. And then there was the candle wax near Bottlenose. Perhaps the same candle wax I’d seen in the bothy. Had Kemp visited the house first before we found him, killed Bottlenose, then doubled back to the bothy and claimed he’d only just arrived? But why would he smash up his own boat?

  Mother, Aunt Charlotte and Mirabelle were stumbling along behind the two men as if this was no more than a charity fun run that had reached the point where they were regretting it. In reality, when they’d reached that point, their solution had been to stop at a wine bar and stay there.

  Only Bridget held back from the rest. She walked along primly, just behind, with Mr Bojingles at her feet as if this was a little country walk. She was irritating even when she was only walking. Like Jess, she’d been back in the house when Bottlenose had been killed. She’d shared a room with him the night Angel was killed. Had Bottlenose seen her sneak out to kill Angel? Had Bridget returned and noticed his eyes follow her back in and realized she and Mr Bojingles had to murder again? I watched them shuffling along.

  I paused and looked back towards the house. The figure of Jess was still ambling behind as if nothing mattered.

  Dad’s bent figure was there, near the door over in the corner, turning away — his face bleak, anxious this time. He was almost part of the shadows but at certain times, certain moments when the light fell just right or I turned my head slowly to the side, I caught him there in the periphery. He didn’t appear if I looked straight at him. I had to really make myself aware of the edges of the world. But he was there now. He was watching me. He nodded once towards the others as if I should follow.

  Jess was getting closer and I didn’t want the awkward walk with her. There was that same disconnected look on her face. I turned and looked out at the silver film of mist. The others suddenly seemed quite distant. I started to walk a little faster.

  My mind was so disjointed. The line between the dead and the living seemed to be growing increasingly blurred. This island held us in such a constant state of strange chaos. It was a disorientating world that should have been an oasis of beauty and calm but was instead confusion and fear. I looked across the sea and there were those green eyes again, lingering below the surface of the waves. Nell’s eyes. Did those eyes still look out from the seabed or did she watch us from somewhere else now — somewhere much closer on this island?

  All along, the most overwhelming feeling on this island had been that of being watched by someone or something, a presence that hung at the edges of what we could see, that had dipped in and out of our lives, taking one of us when it could. Picking us off one by one. Perhaps Bottlenose had been right, there was more to the heaven and earth of this place than we could dream of.

  We didn’t belong here. That much was clear. This was a place for the dead, like those that rested under its Druid stones, like the bones that littered the abandoned cemetery on the beach, the skulls lining that cupboard, the shod witch galloping over the hills and the memory of those two old women with their rocking horse.

  The low gleam of dusk touched the edges of the water giving them a yellow-green light. The thin breath of the wind had haunted every step since our arrival and it sang out across the sands now. The vast wilderness was all around me but with no sense of freedom. It gripped me like a straitjacket, crushing me.

  The dark, moss-covered stones of the chapel caught the last of the faint light. Its mournful eyes watched our approach again.

  They were all waiting at the door. No one had dared to open it.

  ‘Hurry up, Ursula.’ Mother was exasperated, as if I was the reason they had all stalled instead of their own fear.

  ‘This is ridiculous.’ Jess was close behind me now. ‘I don’t know what it is you’re expecting to find. Don’t you think I’ve suffered enough without you bursting into my fiancé’s tomb?’ She looked from one to the other of us. ‘Please, just leave him alone.’


  ‘When you put it like that,’ Kemp said awkwardly, ‘it does sound a little . . . a little disrespectful.’

  ‘And your suggestion would be?’ Bridget put her hands on her hips. The dog watched him as if he was about to do the same. They both widened their eyes in expectation.

  Spear stepped forward. ‘Brown here may have—’

  ‘A point?’ Bridget interrupted. ‘Don’t forget, Mr Spear, that at this moment you are our number one suspect, with motive and opportunity to kill all of the victims. So, I would have thought any exit strategy was better than none for you.’

  He shook his head. ‘You women are unbelievable.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Let’s just get in there and settle this.’ Aunt Charlotte started towards the door.

  ‘Wait!’ Jess said. ‘Don’t hurt him.’

  Everyone paused and stared at her. Aunt Charlotte shoved the door hard and it fell open.

  In the dim hollow of the chapel, it was hard to make out the silent shapes. Our eyes began to adjust. The troublesome boots with their distinctive tread were thrown in the corner, mud and candle wax on their soles. The Vibram symbol was clear to see.

  Aunt Charlotte took a breath and stepped inside the dark cave. She turned to us. ‘Right, let’s get this over with.’

  CHAPTER 29: THE CHAPEL OF UNREST

  The rest of us clustered in the doorway. The remains of the light filtered round our outlines, sending our long shadows out into the chapel.

  ‘Charlotte? What the hell are you doing?’ Mother frowned.

  ‘Seeing if he’s alive.’ She was already crouching down by the side of Ryan’s cold shape.

  Mother raised her eyebrows. ‘And how exactly were you hoping to do that, given that in fifty-eight years on this planet, you are yet to master tying your shoelaces or taking a pulse?’

  Aunt Charlotte gave Mother a tart look. ‘There’s more than one way to skin a rabbit, Pandora.’

  ‘Yes, I think that’s already been adequately illustrated.’ I waited at the door.

  Spear looked towards Kemp. ‘So, you are still skinning your pet rabbits!’

  Kemp looked away and muttered ‘murderer’ under his breath.

  ‘What’s that?’ The smile fell quickly from Spear.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Listen, if you’ve got something to say . . .’

  ‘Come on, man, get up!’ We all looked into the chapel to see that Aunt Charlotte had Ryan by the lapels of his expensive outdoor jacket, his body suspended beneath her like a rag. She pulled him closer towards her. ‘We know you’re alive. The game is up. Speak!’ She lifted him further, then slammed him back down again into the wet stone, his head lolling to the side. ‘We know you’re not dead!’ She lifted him up and cracked his unmoving head back down with a deep thud. Our theory was unravelling before us in a painfully obvious fashion.

  ‘Jesus! Aunt Charlotte!’ I pushed past the bickering Kemp and Spear who had now started to square up to each other. ‘Aunt Charlotte, please, stop, for God’s sake!’

  ‘We need answers, Ursula.’ She lifted the body again.

  ‘Right, I see.’ Spear stepped towards Kemp and looked down on the top of his head. ‘You’re too much of a coward to say it to my face.’

  ‘I’m not the coward here.’

  ‘And what exactly is that supposed to mean?’

  There was only the smallest gap between their faces, close enough that they would be able to feel the angry spray of each other’s words. Aunt Charlotte banged Ryan’s head back onto the stone again.

  ‘Aunt Charlotte, please!’ I tried to push myself further forward between everyone. Mirabelle and Mother were not moving. They’d become spectators and were caught looking between Aunt Charlotte and the Kemp/Spear contest.

  ‘Oh, you know exactly what I mean!’ Kemp leaned in.

  ‘Oh, oh, do I?’ They were chest-to-chest now. ‘I know you’ve been hiding out on this island for longer than you’ll admit, you creepy bastard.’

  ‘Creepy bastard? Who are you calling a creepy—’

  ‘You!’ Spear pushed Kemp in the chest and Kemp stumbled into the chapel, banging into Mother and Mirabelle. In one move, the situation had escalated. Kemp fell backwards. ‘Nell saw you.’ Spear stormed in. ‘Looking at her, spying on her. This was the one trip she hated because she had to come back near you.’

  Bang.

  Aunt Charlotte sent Ryan’s head back down onto the stone again. We all looked into the chapel.

  ‘Woah there! You already told us she was leaving you. It was you she didn’t want to be with anymore.’ Kemp pushed Spear in the chest this time. ‘Is that why you killed her?’

  Aunt Charlotte paused with Ryan’s dead body in her hands.

  I stepped further into the chapel and felt something clip beneath my foot. Before I had chance to look down, Spear was lunging towards Kemp.

  ‘You little fucker.’ Spear sent a fist out and it glanced across Kemp’s cheek.

  ‘Mr Spear, no more violence, please.’ Bridget grabbed Mr Bojingles and held him close. She shuffled into the small chapel. It was getting crowded now.

  Mirabelle held out her hands too. ‘I don’t think—’

  ‘Hitting me won’t solve it,’ Kemp said. ‘I was the first man Nell truly loved and you couldn’t deal with that.’

  Everyone paused. It seemed improbable. We stood still, watching Kemp.

  ‘You delusional little prick.’ Spear’s face twisted into a sneer. I hadn’t seen him look like that before. It was disturbing.

  ‘I’m delusional, am I? Before she ever met you, she loved me and you know she did. You know what she gave up because you made her.’

  It was becoming slightly less improbable.

  ‘I didn’t make her give up anything! She wanted to leave this shithole. She always complained when we came back. It was her who came to find me. Remember?’

  Kemp gave a malicious smile. ‘Oh, you didn’t know either, did you?’ He gave a joyless laugh.

  Spear took a step back as if he was afraid of the words.

  This time it was Kemp who threw himself towards Spear. ‘You took her away from me and now you’ve killed her. You bastard.’

  ‘I didn’t kill her!’ Spear shouted.

  There was so much noise echoing round the small chapel. I was shoved as Kemp and Spear rolled forward, locked together and punching. My head smacked into the door frame and suddenly everything was a confused sea. I could feel the nausea rising again. Sweat prickled its way down my back. It seemed as though the air was being squeezed out of this tiny room. Spear and Kemp were reeling all over, battering into the wall like frightened birds. I watched them flailing, their arms and feet clattering into the walls.

  ‘They’re just like birds,’ I whispered. The sweat trickled down my temple. I was finding it harder to breathe. The chapel was becoming more claustrophobic with every turn and punch they made.

  ‘Ursula?’ Mother was moving closer towards me, but she seemed so far away.

  ‘Someone hit Spear over the head in the room with the birds.’

  ‘No prizes for guessing who.’ Mother nodded towards Kemp scuffling into Spear’s chest with his fists rounding.

  ‘Mother, where did Jess get the knife?’

  ‘What?’

  I stumbled. ‘The knife.’

  ‘Spear’s knife?’

  Spear paused and turned to us, Kemp nestled into his shoulder as if they were almost embracing each other. ‘So it’s your turn, is it? I didn’t kill anyone! Least of all Nell and I didn’t use a knife on Bottlenose. If I was going to kill anyone I wouldn’t wait until I was marooned on an island with you clowns. I’m with . . . was with Nell every day.’

  ‘Yes, but where did Jess get the knife from?’ I breathed. I could hear the distant whistling start in my head again, passing over the sands that Bottlenose had said sang out. The old sea shanty notes mingled with the tide as if something was coming out of the sea. I leaned back onto the smooth stone
wall. I could feel the boots behind the back of my legs.

  ‘Boots.’ My voice broke as if the feel of them was a sudden relief, a welcome comfort.

  ‘What’s that, Ursula?’ Mother came closer and the whistling grew louder in my head. She looked into my eyes.

  Aunt Charlotte dropped the dead man to the stone with a resounding thud.

  ‘The boots, Aunt Charlotte.’

  ‘Yes, dear.’ Aunt Charlotte stepped towards me and gripped me hard under the arms. I felt my legs scoop from under me.

  ‘Look at the boots . . .’

  They all looked down at Ryan’s boots behind my legs. The Vibram sole was clearly visible — the sole that had made the print in the dust.

  ‘Angel said . . .’

  ‘I can tell you, dear, he’s very much dead.’ Aunt Charlotte held me in what felt like an attempt at a wrestling hold.

  ‘Jess said the knife was his. It fell—’

  Mother sighed. ‘Yes, we know it’s Spear’s knife. We’ve been through this. He’s admitted that. You’re very confused. We need to get you—’

  ‘No, Mother. Listen,’ I panted. ‘The whistling.’

  Aunt Charlotte began to drag me across the stones towards the door.

  ‘I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you all,’ Spear began, ‘beating up dead guys. It’s like he said, you’re all mad as hatters if you ask me.’

  ‘We’ve covered that,’ Bridget said dismissively. ‘It can’t be the mercury. Had to be the beads.’

  ‘The knife, Spear’s knife—’

  ‘Christ! This is ridiculous. We’re going round in circles.’ Spear sighed. ‘I’m not staying in this morgue.’ He started to walk away. A winded Kemp crouched on the floor.

  ‘The knife fell—’

  ‘I did not murder my wife!’ he shouted.

  My mouth was so dry I could barely speak, my legs were weak and strange images flashed through my raging thoughts.

  ‘Well, let’s get you out of here,’ Aunt Charlotte said tenderly. ‘No more staring at dead people today.’

  I saw a shadow travel across the window outside. ‘Dad?’ I whispered.