Murder On Mustique

by Glenconner Anne

  ‘How do you know?’

  Sacha’s gaze drops to the table. ‘It’s common knowledge that she sees the wrong people.’

  She seems unwilling to reveal her source, despite Solomon’s probing. We need to find Amanda Fortini soon; it’s always easy to blame a community that isn’t your own for anything that goes wrong.

  ‘Sorry to disturb you, Sacha,’ I say. ‘You looked very absorbed in your writing.’

  The young woman forces a smile. ‘It’s just a few notes, but I’m thinking of doing a children’s book.’

  ‘How wonderful,’ I say, rising to my feet. ‘Come and see us soon, and I’m sure we’ll chat again at Lily’s party, but please keep it a secret. I’m relying on everyone’s discretion. We’ll let you get back to work.’

  Nile appears preoccupied when we walk down to the next terrace. The swimming pool’s tiles reflect the sky, the ocean glassy with calmness, even though the weather reports say the tropical storm is tracking south, but I can tell he’s in no mood to admire the view. The detective gives a slight nod before thanking me for my help, then marching away.

  13

  NILE’S FRUSTRATION IS coming to the boil when he reaches the harbour in Britannia Bay. It’s 7p.m., the sun already setting, and he’s still none the wiser about Amanda Fortini’s disappearance. The police launch is moored by the jetty, covered in oil cloth. It’s gone unused for months. The motorboat is little bigger than a standard dinghy, with the St Vincent police logo written on its prow in faded paint, and plenty of scrapes marking its fibreglass shell. Nile still hasn’t received permission to visit the Aqua Dream, but his patience has ended. The yacht still dominates the horizon, moored just outside the bay. He’s surprised when the motor on the police launch starts immediately, as if the boat’s been waiting for a new adventure.

  It takes Nile ten minutes to reach the yacht, its sides towering above him as he draws close. There’s no sign of life except yellow light beaming from a couple of portholes, the hull so clean, it sparkles in the moonlight. There’s a Bayrider XR7 just like the ones in Old Plantation harbour, safely docked on deck, with a hydraulic lift to lower it into the water. Nile is starting to wonder if anyone is on board when a man in his thirties appears on deck, dressed in typical boat crew’s uniform: navy shorts, a white T-shirt and deck shoes. There’s no smile on his face when Nile asks to come on board. The crewman is a few years older than he appeared from a distance when the detective climbs the ladder to board, with a chiselled face and a smattering of grey in his collar-length blond hair, skin roughened by the elements. His face is vaguely familiar and instinct tells Nile that he could be the man Amanda Fortini was drawn to, against her better judgement.

  ‘I captain this boat,’ the man says, in a rough English drawl. ‘What do you want?’

  Nile hears footsteps before he can reply, and another man lurches up from the hold to stare at him. They’re both heavyset like nightclub bouncers, wearing the same minimal uniform, observing him like he’s an alien species. The two men have noticed the gun belt Nile is forced to wear under local police rules, and for once he’s glad of the weapon. The atmosphere feels one hundred per cent hostile.

  ‘I’m DS Solomon Nile. I need to ask a few questions.’

  The man gives a slow nod. ‘We’re listening.’

  ‘I’ve seen you on Mustique before, haven’t I?’

  The man shakes his head. ‘This is the first time I’ve visited the Windwards since getting my captain’s licence.’

  ‘A young woman’s missing from Mustique. She was seen swimming towards your yacht, at dawn on Friday. Her name’s Amanda Fortini. Did either of you see her?’

  ‘No one’s swum out this far.’

  ‘Yachts normally spend a night or two in local waters then sail on to their next destination. Is there any reason you’ve stayed longer?’

  ‘We’re sheltering here until the storm risk lifts.’ He gestures at some wetsuits drying on a rail. ‘We’ve been diving, to keep ourselves amused.’

  ‘Who’s the owner?’

  ‘A company called Aqua Dream. I don’t have any individual names. We’re delivering the boat to St Kitts for them.’

  ‘What’s your name, Captain?’

  ‘Dan Kellerman.’

  ‘Did you send a launch over to Mustique early on Friday morning, Mr Kellerman?’

  ‘We haven’t used it all week, apart from a few trips to Lovell to buy supplies.’

  ‘Mustique’s a private island. You can’t go ashore without permission.’

  ‘You wouldn’t see us starve, would you?’

  Nile glances through a window, into a dining room with simple furniture, and only a few paintings on the walls. The plain décor is out of keeping with such an expensive yacht. ‘I need to take a look around.’

  ‘That’s not possible, without a search warrant.’

  The detective tries a different approach. ‘The missing woman’s twenty-three, Mr Kellerman. She was last seen swimming towards this boat, two days ago. A big launch was crossing the water, just like yours.’ He pulls the picture of Amanda Fortini from his pocket and holds it out, but the captain barely glances at it before passing it to his crew member. The second man returns it fast, like it’s coated in a substance that will burn his hands.

  ‘Neither of us have seen her.’

  ‘You could save time by letting me do the search now.’

  ‘Bring me the right paperwork and I’ll think about it.’

  The guy edges closer, like he intends to push Nile overboard, but physical threats are the one time when his bulk comes in useful, so he stands his ground.

  ‘You’ll see me again soon, Mr Kellerman.’

  It’s ninety degrees in the station when Nile gets back, so he sits on a bench outside, thumbing through his notes. He’s searched the police database for Dan Kellerman, the captain of the Aqua Dream, but found no trace of him as a registered mariner. Either he’s never qualified as a captain, or he gave a false name. The facts are still nagging at him when his senior officer from St Vincent calls. Nile watches the sun dipping behind the horizon as DI Fenton Black speaks. He’s a big, avuncular man, with a pleasant smile, but there’s nothing gentle about his tone today.

  ‘Amanda Fortini’s parents called me earlier, Nile. Don’t talk to them again without my permission. I’ll share the news from now on, do you hear? They mustn’t know about your difficulties tracking the girl down. I need something upbeat to tell them tomorrow.’

  Nile provides a quick overview, explaining that he’s contacted every household on Mustique, and talked to people in Amanda Fortini’s circle. It sounds like her ex could be involved: he’s sacked his staff and gone on a rampage, destroying items on his property.

  ‘Arrest him then. Let’s close this situation down.’

  ‘No one can find him, and I think this is linked to the Aqua Dream. Fortini was last seen swimming across the bay towards it, the morning she disappeared. It’s possible the crew are holding her there. I need the search warrant urgently.’

  ‘That may not be possible.’ There’s a long silence before Black continues. ‘It’s out of my hands, Nile. My superior’s waiting for permission from upstairs.’

  ‘What’s the problem?’

  ‘He’s dealing with it, all right? What else have you found?’

  ‘Amanda Fortini had a secret relationship, according to the local priest. If I can find the new boyfriend, she might be with him.’

  ‘The island’s three miles long, Nile. How hard can it be? Bring him in tomorrow.’

  ‘I’ll do my best.’

  ‘You do realise the Fortinis are one of the richest families in the world, don’t you?’

  ‘I know that, sir. Can I have some backup, to help me search?’

  ‘Not until the storm warning lifts. Flights are grounded and the marine police have stopped all unnecessary travel.’

  ‘It’s hundreds of miles away. They could sail here in two hours.’

  ‘We’re mea
nt to uphold the law, remember?’ Black gives a loud sigh. ‘Don’t let me down, Nile. I expect answers tomorrow.’

  DI Black rings off without another word, leaving Nile watching a picture postcard sunset, which gives no comfort at all. Nile attacks his work with greater purpose once he goes back inside. He scans the names of every villa owner still present on Mustique, then the electoral roll. Some can be discounted immediately, if they are too old or ill to harm a fit young woman, and he checks travel records too. More than a dozen islanders were on St Vincent or St Lucia the morning Amanda Fortini went missing, including Phillip Everard, but no one else can be ruled out, unless they have an alibi.

  There are approximately three hundred inhabitants in Lovell, and less than a hundred on the rest of the island currently. Discomfort twitches in his stomach when he remembers Sacha Milburn’s suggestion that Amanda Fortini’s secret lover could be from his own community, based on hearsay. The schisms in society drove him to join the police instead of continuing his studies, to try to redress that imbalance. He shakes his head in disbelief, for believing he could change the status quo on his own. Nile’s conscience brought him home – a combination of the heartbreaking call from Mama Toulaine about his father’s poor health, and his fear of repeating the mistakes that cost a woman her life – but will it be strong enough to keep him here, on the bottom rung of the ladder?

  When Nile looks at the clock again, hours have passed while he’s been buried in work, his neck aching from staring down at his computer. It’s 10p.m. and he should go home and make sure that Lyron has made their father comfortable on the porch. He’s locking up the station when he glances north, his keys clattering to the ground. The sun set hours ago, yet he can see a plume of smoke, flames leaping upwards, setting the sky alight. The detective scrabbles in the dirt for his keys, then phones the fire service volunteers. He runs to the dune buggy at his fastest pace, to find out which villa is burning out of control.

  14

  I’VE ENJOYED MY first full evening alone with Lily for months. We’re sitting in the living room, by windows that overlook the sea. I can tell she’s concerned, after hearing about our search for Tommy Rothmore. Now she has two friends to worry about, instead of one, but she’s doing her best to hide her fears. Lily has spent the past half-hour regaling me with stories about the reef.

  ‘I’m thinking of teaching myself to free dive,’ she says.

  ‘What on earth’s that?’

  ‘Dex Adebayo used to be an expert; it’s diving without oxygen. Some people can go down two hundred metres, holding their breath all the way back to the surface.’

  ‘No, darling, please. It would turn me into a nervous wreck.’

  She grins at me, her sense of mischief still intact. ‘Let’s train together, Vee. You used to dive for oysters in Scotland, when I was small. You’ve always loved the water.’

  ‘I’m fine in the shallows, but there’s a thin line between bravery and madness.’

  ‘That sounds like Jasper. He’s the perfect combination of both, isn’t he?’

  I’m about to reply when Wesley bursts into the room. Our butler normally hides his feelings behind a neutral mask, but tonight his tension is easy to read.

  ‘The Fortinis’ place is on fire, Lady Vee.’

  When Lily and I dash to the window, flames are dancing behind the neighbouring property’s upstairs windows. There’s a sudden explosion, like a bomb detonating, and a section of the roof caves in, making fire spew upwards.

  ‘My sister could be in there,’ Wesley mutters.

  We both follow him when he rushes outside. He runs along the perimeter wall, then chases towards the burning building, with Lily hot on his heels. It takes me longer to scale the wall, snagging my silk dress in the process, but nothing can slow him down. He tries to yank a door open, then hurls a brick through a window and clambers inside. Until now I had Wesley pegged as a control freak, not the type of man who races into an inferno. I’d forgetten about his time in the army.

  Lily is already helping the volunteer fire officers; six of them are struggling with the fire hose, while the blaze gains strength. The air resonates with the sound of timbers falling, the fire’s crackle deafening me. Acrid smoke fills my airways, making my mouth taste sour, my eyes running. I hate feeling so powerless, but there’s little I can do. The fire hose is trained on spikes of flame issuing from the building’s roof, but it seems unquenchable. The fire dulls for a moment, then rises again, even angrier than before. Wesley’s outline appears behind the downstairs windows. He’s running from room to room. It was madness to go inside, but all I can do is watch.

  When I retreat by a few metres, a new sound reaches me, grating and incongruous. Someone’s laughing at the top of their voice when Lily reappears at my side. The sound is high and out of control, like a child, full of hilarity until exhaustion makes them cry. Smoke gusts from the fire, blurring my view. When the air clears a figure is sitting on the ground. His clothes are tattered, face smeared with the ash that’s settled in his hair, but I recognise Tommy Rothmore straight away. He’s sitting cross-legged, almost hidden by overgrown plants, enchanted by the conflagration. Lily and I walk closer as his cackling grows more strident. There’s a mad look in his eyes. I’m not certain he recognises either of us. Lily crouches down beside her friend, but his gaze latches onto my face.

  ‘Mind the fire,’ he yells out. ‘Your party dress will burn.’

  Lily speaks to him in a soothing voice, but he’s unreachable. There are holes in his shirt, exposing burned skin, his eyebrows singed. Something’s resting on his lap, and for a moment it looks like he’s cradling an infant, his arms wrapped around it protectively. When I kneel down at his side, he reeks of booze, exhaling fumes of neat whisky.

  ‘Come with us, Tommy,’ Lily says. ‘Those burns need dressing.’

  ‘Nothing hurts any more, thank God.’ Another round of laughter spills from his mouth when he points at the flames. ‘The bonfire of the vanities.’

  ‘Let’s go, please,’ she says. ‘We’ll take care of you, I promise.’

  He shakes his head vehemently. ‘I know where Amanda is. I can picture the exact spot when I close my eyes.’

  I take a step closer. ‘What do you mean, darling?’

  The ground is littered with cans of petrol and white spirit, half-concealed by the tangled undergrowth, but right now I don’t care if he set light to his ex-girlfriend’s house, and I can tell Lily feels the same, her arm draped protectively round his shoulders. Tommy’s gaze is gentler when he speaks again.

  ‘Don’t cry, Lily. She hates people being unhappy.’

  ‘Who does, Tommy?’

  ‘Amanda, of course.’ He releases another peal of laughter, as if we’re missing something obvious, then suddenly he’s on his feet. The amusement on his face has been replaced by fear. ‘She’s right here. Don’t bother looking anywhere else.’

  He thrusts something into my hands, but I’m too busy watching him blunder through the trees to care about it. His thin form looks like a scarecrow, burned clothes flapping in his wake. Lily chases after him, but he shoves her away, and soon he’s running too fast for anyone to catch him. The entire house is engulfed in flames, and people are rushing across the lawn, using buckets of water from the swimming pool, as if such tiny droplets could stem the blaze. Thank God the villa is surrounded by stone terraces. They’re containing the fire, instead of allowing it to reach the trees, or our house would be threatened. Flames still surge from the windows upstairs, tiles slipping from the roof in a long cascade. Bystanders have been drawn to the scene from local villas, to see if they can lend a hand, or to watch the place being razed to the ground. Jose is among them. My young gardener is standing apart from the other onlookers, all observing the huge blaze. I’m too far away to read his expression accurately.

  Lily has run back to help the fire officers, but I feel helpless to assist them. I keep remembering the fervour in Tommy’s voice when he claimed that Amanda is right
here. Could he have buried her body in the gardens, or placed it in her home, before setting the villa alight?

  There’s no sign of Wesley anywhere when my gaze scans the crowd again, panic making me clutch the object Tommy gave me even tighter. It’s a lump of dead coral, like the one outside Lily’s door, but the pattern carved into its dry surface is different. Someone has used a knife or a scalpel to mark it with a pair of crossed arrows.

  15

  THE FORTINIS’ VILLA is past saving when Nile arrives. The entire structure is ablaze, volunteer fire officers making little headway. Their truck is dwarfed by the huge building, the jet of water having no impact. Two dozen people are still grouped on the lawn; their faces look demonic, lit up by the flames. He walks through the crowd, telling everyone to leave before the walls collapse. There will be injuries if they stand so close to the fire. But when he glances over his shoulder, he understands the attraction. It’s providing drama on an island where every day unrolls at the same pace, under a peaceful sky, the sea barely moving. The fire is mesmerising by contrast, destroying everything in its path.

  Nile is sending bystanders home when he sees a man lying on the ground, being cared for by Lady Veronica and Lily. When he gets closer, Nile sees that it’s their butler, Wesley Gilbert. The man’s eyes are closed while he heaves for breath.

  ‘What happened, Lady Vee?’

  ‘The fool ran into the building, before anyone could stop him.’

  ‘His sister Sheba raised the alarm,’ Nile replies. ‘She’s fine; I saw her just now.’

  The man struggles upright, his breathing still hoarse. ‘Where is she?’

  ‘Right there.’ Nile points at a woman on the far side of the crowd.

  ‘Thank God,’ he mutters.

  Gilbert is too busy catching his breath to speak again. Nile has known him from boyhood; his stern manner and military background make him seem austere, but tonight his fragility is on display, even though he’s already trying to stand up, swaying on his feet. Someone must have called for medical help, because Dr Pakefield is jogging towards them, clutching his medical bag. He forces Gilbert to rest until his breathing gradually steadies.