Dangerous Shadows

by Whitelaw, Stella

  “In a funny way, I’m relieved. I wasn’t looking forward to tomorrow, to all the rigmarole Danielle has arranged. Are you still going to be her bridesmaid?”

  Holly nodded. “Yes, I’ll see it through, I suppose.”

  “Then I’ll offer to be the best man. How about that? Barry and I had a pact. We would be best man at each other’s wedding. It would show that I have no hard feelings to the pair of them. Where are they now?”

  “I don’t know. I think they are going to get a marriage licence tomorrow morning in Bridgetown. You don’t have to give any previous notice in Barbados.”

  “I don’t suppose anyone will notice,” said Luke, stretching out his legs across the path. “I’ll be there. Barry will be there. The dress will be there with Danielle inside it. No one will know who she has married in the bower on the beach. The pastor is bringing two witnesses, his son and his daughter, I think. It’ll be quite private.”

  “I was planning to leave straight after the wedding, spend the evening in a Bridgetown hotel before flying home.”

  “Please don’t do that. Stay and keep me company. Please, Holly, I shall need your company, the jilted groom and all that. I need comfort and sympathy. We could drive to the Round House in Bathsheba and listen to some jazz or some reggae. I’ll get you to the airport in time for your plane if you really have to go home, I promise.”

  Holly’s heart soared. To spend tomorrow evening with Luke would be wonderful. And she’d seen photos of the Round House, an old building going back to 1832, right on the edge of the Atlantic Ocean. It looked like a round castle.

  “What about your honeymoon? It’s all booked, isn’t it? The Seychelles, Danielle said.”

  “I’ll give Danielle and Barry the tickets as a wedding present. I think that’s appropriate. I suppose after that I’ll go back to work. There’s plenty to do for my new programmes.”

  Luke took Holly’s hand and held it closely. “Of course, I do think I deserve a few days off after such a dreadful shock. Do you agree, Holly, that I deserve a bit of a holiday?”

  “Yes, you do deserve a bit of a holiday.”

  “I wonder if the bridesmaid elect would care to share some of that time with the new best man, the groom reject? There’s still so much of Barbados to see. We could see it together.”

  Now it was Holly who was shaking, but with laughter, with happiness. “Maybe I could ask Zoe for a few more days off. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”

  “I’ll tell Lily that we shall be having the pre-wedding supper here, you and me, on the patio. It’s a pity to let good food go to waste. And of course, I am looking forward to a great deal of sympathy and comforting words. It’s not often a groom gets jilted the day before his wedding, and I’m in a frail and vulnerable state.”

  “I’m an expert at sympathy and comfort,” Holly murmured. “Especially for the frail and vulnerably heart-broken.”

  “And I have a lot to explain to you,” said Luke. “I hope you are going to forgive me. About London.”

  “You mean, Heathrow, London? Flying back to New York? Leaving me only the briefest of notes?” Holly held her breath. What was she going to hear?

  “I was a fool, Holly. I was afraid that you were too young, too naïve and didn’t know anything about falling in love. I felt I had to protect you. You see, I did care for you and I didn’t want to complicate your life. So I ran away. I wanted to give you time to grow up.”

  “I’ve grown up now, Luke.”

  “Yes, I can see that. You’ve grown into a beautiful, intelligent woman, one that I don’t deserve. You can call me all the names under the sun.”

  “I might just do that,” said Holly. “Bridesmaids are allowed to call the best man anything they like.”

  Luke was just about to draw her close when they heard footsteps hurrying towards them, coming down the steps.

  “Miss Holly, Miss Holly!” It was Lily. She looked distraught, her knuckles up to her mouth. “Missy, I have dreadful news. Is it my fault? Did I do something wrong? Was it me, please?”

  “What are you talking about, Lily? Calm down. Of course it’s not your fault. Tell us what’s happened?”

  “It’s Earl Phillips, miss, the lifeguard. Remember he’d been hanging around the house and I wanted him to go? I think one of garden boys told him to go.”

  “What about Earl?”

  “He’s dead, miss. He’s been murdered. Someone murdered him. They found him in an alley-way. He’d bled to death on the ground.” Lily was sobbing into her apron. “Someone cut his arm.”

  Holly got up and put her arms round Lily. “It’s not your fault, Lily. It’s very sad, of course. Poor Earl. Let the police find the murderer. There must be some clues.”

  “I’ll see what I can find out,” said Luke. “Look after Lily while I phone my friend at the Central Police Station.”

  *

  Jake wandered round the busy, bustling harbour. He needed a boat, nothing too big to handle or bring attention to him. He walked along the long line of moored yachts and schooners. He was running out of time. Holly would be flying back to London after the wedding.

  He still had some of the bucks left in his pocket. He bought some bottles of water, home-baked bread, cheese, exotic fruit. He treated himself to a McDonalds double burger, sucking the juice out of the meat. It might be the last good meal he would have for a long time.

  He was hot. At least it would be cooler out at sea. He quite looked forward to the next part of his plan. Pity about the gold jewellery. Someone had talked and they’d pay for it. Yes, he’d make sure they paid for it.

  The bar was air-conditioned. It was a different one to the last time. The theme was mermaids, lots of nudie pictures and photographs. He enjoyed a couple of cold beers, admiring the decorations.

  This was obviously a bar frequented by the sailing fraternity.

  A middle-aged couple came in, both in shorts and open necked shirts, blue yachting caps on their heads. The man was carrying an oilskin jacket which he draped over a chair. The woman ordered white wine, the man a beer. They also ordered food. The fish dish of the day, fries and salad. They were laughing together, obviously enjoying a day ashore, greeting several friends across the bar.

  “Come ashore for a day’s shopping, Greta?”

  “You bet,” she laughed. “I’ve run out of sun tan oil.”

  Jake was sitting in the shadows, watching the couple carefully. They ate and they drank and then drank some more. Eventually they both went to the rest rooms.

  The man had left his oilskin where he put it. Jake got up and in one swift movement, removed it and walked out into the street. He dodged through the crowds, his hand going through the pockets. There was a wallet with money, credit cards and keys.

  One key had a name tag on it: Greta. He threw away the oilskin. Who wanted an oilskin in this weather?

  Greta was a nice little speedboat with a tiny cabin, white with blue trim. She was moored alongside boats twice her size. Jake jumped aboard and put the key into the engine, switched it on. The engine came to life with a sweet purr. He untied the mooring, steered carefully out of the Careenage towards open sea. He did not want an accident, a collision, or anything to draw attention to himself.

  He hoped Greta got her sun tan oil. This Greta would fetch a tidy sum when he got rid of her. But first, he had something to do. This was going to be the best part.

  Chapter Sixteen

  It took a while to calm Lily, and reassure her that it was not her fault. Earl’s murder was nothing to do with him hanging around Tiger Bay House, asking questions. Holly wondered if Danielle had heard the news, and how she would take it just before her wedding to Barry.

  “The pre-wedding supper is going to go to waste,” said Holly. “I think Danielle and Barry will be eating in town, somewhere expensive, keeping out of your way.”

  “Then we should have the pre-wedding supper as arranged,” said Luke. “Why not? We are as much inconvenienced by this change of plan, so
we should enjoy what was prepared for me and my bride. Or should I say, my previous bride?” He hadn’t lost his sense of humour.

  Luke carried the tray back up the steps. Holly was still consoling the weeping Lily. She could not believe that Luke had taken the news so well. He seemed relieved, almost relaxed about the whole scenario. It wasn’t acting. The worry seemed to have disappeared from his eyes. He said he had had his own doubts about the marriage.

  Holly took Lily back to the kitchens and sat her in a chair. She spotted a bottle of cooking brandy and gave Lily a small glass of brandy diluted with orange juice.

  “I know you don’t drink,” said Holly. “But sip this. It will help steady your nerves.”

  “What is happening now, after this bad murder?” the Cook asked. “Will Miss Danielle change everything again?”

  “I don’t think so,” said Holly. “After all, the lifeguard was not exactly a family friend. There have, although, been a few changes to the wedding.” Like a change of groom, but she didn’t tell them that. “But there’s nothing that affects you or your culinary skills tonight. Go ahead as usual. Everything will be the same.”

  “I have made a special pre-wedding supper but Miss Danielle is not here,” said the cook. She was stirring something that smelt delicious.

  “Luke will enjoy every morsel, I promise you,” said Holly. “And I will help him finish it up. Please serve it on the patio when you are ready. It’s going to be a beautiful evening to sit outside, enjoying your meal.”

  The Cook looked pleased that her efforts were not going to be wasted. She bustled Lily back into being helpful around the kitchen. Holly wondered what she should wear for this pre-wedding supper that was not for the wedding that had been planned. But she was having it with Luke, which made it so very special.

  Her wardrobe did not have anything that suited the occasion. Perhaps she could borrow one of Danielle’s fancy tops and wear it with a pair of her own jeans. Danielle’s bedroom was in its usual chaos, clothes and make-up scattered everywhere. Most of Danielle’s tops were small and cropped or strapless, but right at the back of a wardrobe Holly found a colourful Bajan top, obviously bought at a craft shop. It was a thin cotton, all the colours of the rainbow, with big sleeves and a scooped neckline. It had never been worn. The price tag was still hanging from it.

  Holly cut off the price tag and wrote IOU on it. She placed it in a prominent position against the mirror on Danielle’s dressing table. Danielle would get a surprise when she saw it.

  “Thank you, cousin,” Holly said to the mirror. “Excellent taste, as usual.”

  There was time for a quick swim before supper. It might be her last in Barbados. Tomorrow would be hectic, with little time before the wedding. She had to think of her hair! She folded the borrowed top with her jeans and rolled a big towel round them. It would save time if she dried off and changed on the beach. She did not want to keep Luke waiting. She might even change in the wedding arbour among the gold ribbons. It seemed appropriate.

  The light was beginning to go, the sun dipping behind a quilt of pink clouds. Solar lights came on in the garden and lit her away down the steps. The sand was losing its whiteness, cooling off, and felt so soft. She loved evenings on the island when remnants of heat remained and the stars began to appear. She could not ever remember seeing so many stars in London’s night sky. There was too much pollution in the air.

  She remembered a flat rock near the water’s edge where she could leave her bundle. The towel would be safer off the sand.

  *

  The boat slid silently up onto the sand at the far end of the beach. She was easy to handle, had plenty of fuel on board. He’d got the hang of the navigation instruments, listened to the local radio news, helped himself to a beer from the tiny refrigerator. Everything was going smoothly.

  Fate was on his side. He could not believe it. Holly was coming down the steps in a dark swimsuit, going for a late swim. That made things a hundred times more manageable. No having to snatch her from her bedroom in the middle of the night. She was walking straight into his trap.

  “I’ve got you this time, foxy darling,” he whispered to himself. “No getting away now. Now you are going to pay.”

  He moored the boat, twisting the rope round a tree trunk, anchoring the anchor with a rock. He hurried along the sand, his bare feet making no sound. He didn’t want her to get into the water. He didn’t fancy having to struggle with a mermaid.

  Holly bent down to remove her sandals. A clear plastic bag was pulled over her head, jerked back, and suddenly she couldn’t breathe. It was flattened against her face. She fought fiercely, pulling at the plastic. It was being twisted round her neck and she jerked off her feet. Water washed round her toes, cold and cooling.

  She was being dragged over the sand, her heels digging in a long furrow. She could not cry out, her mouth full of plastic. But she was fit and strong and she fought as hard as she could, kicking, her arms punching anything solid she could find. One of her blows caught his thigh hard.

  “Ouch,” he groaned. “Don’t try to struggle. You’ll only make it worse for yourself.”

  Holly recognized the voice and she went icy cold with fear. She clawed at him, trying to prise his hands off her neck. But his hold was almost choking her. Fighting wasn’t going to help her now, only her wits.

  He hauled her into the boat, still struggling, and threw her on the open deck. He released the plastic bag, letting her gasp for air. Her lungs were hurting. Holly’s face was against the polished planking, she was breathing as deeply as she could. She knew who it was. She knew he was dangerous.

  “Just keep quiet, and you won’t get hurt. One squeak out of you and the plastic goes back on for good. And that would be a pity.”

  He kept her down with a knee firmly in her back. He cuffed her ankles and wrists with metallic handcuffs, chains, turned her over, put a strip of tape across her mouth. He went back for the bundle on the rock. He didn’t want to leave any clues. Holly was simply going to disappear into the night.

  *

  St Thomas’s Hospital was in a prime location on the Thames facing the Houses of Parliament. John Keats, the poet, had once worked there, apprenticed to a surgeon, before he forsook the scalpel for the pen.

  The patient had been in a coma for a week since being flown home by air ambulance from Barbados. He lay in a side room, on his own, attached to a saline drip, an oxygen mask, a protein drip and heart monitors. One leg was in plaster, and his right arm and wrist. The blow on the back of his head was healing, his remaining hair carefully combed over the dressing.

  His window had a view of Big Ben, Westminster Bridge, and the busy river traffic. Today the early spring sunshine was sparkling on the water. But his eyes were closed. He was not looking at anything.

  The hospital was also a teaching hospital and every so often a student nurse would take a look in to check that he was all right. Lucy was a bright young student, part of the Nightingale Training Scheme for Nurses. Lucy was on shift that afternoon when he woke up.

  She hurried out to the nursing station and found a senior nurse. “I think the coma patient in the side room moved an eyelid,” she said. “I think the Colonel is coming round.”

  “Are you sure you’re not imagining things, Lucy? You said this yesterday.”

  “I’m really sure this time. I saw him move.”

  “Let’s go and see.”

  They went back together into the side room. His eyes were open, flickering. He was staring at the ceiling. He was trying to mouth some words from a mouth that would not work properly.

  “You are in hospital, sir. You had an accident but you are going to be all right. Try and get some sleep,” the nurse said, bending down to reassure him.

  “He’s trying to say something,” said Lucy. She bent forward to try and catch the words.

  “Ja…Ja…,” he mumbled indistinctly.

  “I think he’s saying the name Jay. Could that be someone he knows, a relative,
a friend, someone we ought to get in touch with?”

  “I’ve no idea. I don’t think he has any relations. The cruise company had no next of kin on their records.”

  “Poor old soul. Perhaps this Jay is someone special.”

  “Put it in his notes and then get on with your work, Lucy.”

  “Of course. Sorry.”

  “Ja… Ja…,” he said again as they both went out into the sunlit corridor. He tapped his wrist with his good hand but no one saw him. All he could see was a white ceiling and patches of sunlight on the walls. He didn’t know where he was or what was the time.

  *

  The speedboat was an Sb 770 twenty-foot model, arctic white with navy blue trim. She had a single Yamner 160 hp engine with shaft drive. She also had a chart plotter, VHF, CD player with foredeck speakers, electric hob and a manual seat toilet. Jake congratulated himself on picking such a beauty.

  “I could sail the world in this,” he said as he eased the bow thruster and the boat began to back off the sand, slowly turning round and heading for the open sea. “I might do that. It would be great. Explore the Caribbean.” He’d forgotten he would need fuel for any trip.

  Holly lay on the cabin floor. Her feet and wrists were handcuffed, duct tape over her mouth, but nothing over her eyes. She could see everything in the cabin. There was a bench seat and small table with one leg. Opposite was a desk, electric hob, sink and a door, - maybe it was a toilet or shower. The walls were fitted cupboards and shelves. She saw cosmetics on a small shelf. There must have been a woman in this cabin at some time.

  Jake stood at the far end, steering at the helm. He seemed to know what he was doing. She hoped he did or they would both drown.

  She saw a row of books, novels and sailing manuals. It was obvious that Jake had stolen it. This boat belonged to some couple whose hobby was sailing the Caribbean islands in their retirement years, perhaps. They would have reported it, surely? The coastguards and police would be looking for the boat. They were heading out to sea now, ploughing through waves, the floor of the cabin was rocking. This was not a coastal jaunt.