Dangerous Shadows

by Whitelaw, Stella

  *

  Holly could not believe her luck when she saw Jake going ashore. He waited for low tide when he could wade across to Bayfield Cove, only ankle deep in water. He was going ashore for fuel, the wallet of dollars safe in his pocket. He might have to make a quick get-away when he got the money. The thought was exciting.

  He shackled her wrists again but she was learning how to use both hands at once. “Get some beauty sleep,” he said. “I don’t want Barry boy to think I have been unkind to you.”

  This was a good time for Holly to make a thorough search of the boat, see what she could use, maybe find a mobile phone. But Holly wasn’t that lucky. She did find a small supply of medications, put antiseptic cream on her sore ankles and sun tan oil on her face. There was a Boots prescription container of Diazepam 10 mg. You will feel sleepy, do not drive or use heavy machinery, it warned on the label. The boat owners may have been prescribed the drug to help them sleep.

  Holly broke open four capsules, emptied the contents into a mug and ground them up with the bowl of a spoon. It was hard work but the tranquilizer might come in useful. She poured some of the powder into Jake’s half empty bottle of whiskey and gave it a good shake. The powder didn’t dissolve completely but Jake might not notice. She hid the rest of the powder at the back of a shelf in a twist of paper. She put the Boots container in a different place, behind some books. Jake didn’t read.

  Among Greta’s cosmetics she found a new toothbrush, still in its packaging. It was a joy to clean her teeth, then eat what was left of the mashed potato. She also found a tube of mints, sucked a few and hid the rest near the cooking stove.

  “Delicious,” she murmured as she continued searching. Still no phone. Nor did she know how to work any of the systems on board. She switched them on, twiddled a few knobs, but heard only static and noises. Perhaps Jake had disabled them.

  She wanted to get out of her grubby swimsuit and put on some of Greta’s clean clothes but it was impossible with the shackles restricting her movement. But she took clean pants, a pair of white shorts and another T-shirt and hid them on deck in a locker. She might get a chance to change into them. The folded bras were all far too big a size. Greta was a top-heavy lady.

  It was in another locker on deck that Holly had her biggest find. There were three distress rockets, neatly enclosed in waterproofing. She read the instructions carefully, twice, set them up in the prow of the boat, and lit them.

  It was a chance, her only chance. She had to take it.

  *

  “Hey, did you see that? Wow, all those pink lights shooting in the sky.”

  She was sitting on the balcony, enjoying an iced drink, knitting a garment for her first grandchild back in the UK. It was a boy. She was knitting blue wool.

  “There’s another. So pretty. Jock, come and look at these pink lights falling everywhere.”

  He came over and peered into the sky. His eyesight was not too good these days but he didn’t want to worry her.

  “Kids,” he said. “They’re having a barbecue on the beach. High jinks. Letting off a few fireworks.”

  “Are you sure? I thought they were distress signals. I’ve seen them on television. Some programme or other.”

  “At this time of day? No way, they’re fireworks.”

  “No, they are distress signals. Don’t you think we ought to tell someone? Ouch, now. I’ve dropped a stitch. You jogged me.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Luke seemed to age overnight. Nothing was important any more, his programmes, his shows, his soaring career. Nothing mattered except Holly’s safety and return. Barry was having no trouble raising the money. Getting it in used dollars was another matter, but the bank manager in Bridgetown’s head office was being as helpful as he could be, not asking any awkward questions.

  “Everyone uses plastic these days,” he said. “We don’t carry a lot of paper money. You’ll have to give me a few hours to draw it in from the other branches.”

  The bank manager had a contact, his wife’s cousin, who worked with the Royal Barbados Police Force.

  “I have an unusual request,” he said on the phone. “Fifty thousand dollars and a New York transfer, no account number yet. The account holder is perfectly OK, no problem there, substantial customer. But he wants the fifty thousand in used dollar notes. Most big spenders like clean new notes.”

  “Sounds fishy.”

  “Sounds fishy,” agreed the bank manager.

  “Is he anything to do with the big wedding at Tiger Bay? There’s a young woman gone missing from the house.”

  “No idea. I wasn’t invited to the wedding.”

  “Neither was I. The Commissioner has an invite, of course. But somehow I think a few plain clothes will be going along, too. Mingling, as you might say.”

  *

  Jake climbed over the island rock, waded through a few inches of sea water to the mainland. He put the trainers back on and was now walking to the nearest petrol station. They were few and far between on the eastern coast. This was no tourist territory. This was wild terrain. His feet were starting to hurt. The borrowed trainers were a bit on the tight side. He needed petrol. He wished he hadn’t thrown the can overboard. He didn’t even have a can to fill.

  A woman stopped along the road and put her head out of the window. She was in her mid-forties and well-dressed in a pale green suit and matching hat. It was a new 4x4 Land Rover. It spelt money.

  “Do you want a lift, young man?” she asked.

  “Much appreciated, ma’am,” he said. “I need fuel. My boat has run out of fuel and I need to fill her up. She’s a beauty, twenty feet long. Do you sail?”

  “Not along this coast. It’s much too dangerous. Hop in and I’ll take you to the nearest petrol station. You’ll have to walk back. I’m going to a wedding reception at Tiger Bay and I’m late. It’s very special. Anyone who is anyone on the island has been invited.”

  Jake took the news on board. So the wedding was going ahead without the bridesmaid. That seemed a little odd. Maybe it was too late to cancel everything. The best man certainly had his hands full, getting the money. He wasn’t essential to a wedding. No, the wedding was nothing he need worry about.

  “Perhaps I’ll get a lift going back with another lovely lady,” he grinned.

  “Will you light me a cigarette? You’ll find some in the glove compartment.”

  Jake did as he was asked. The glove compartment was a treasure trove. A mobile phone, a clutch handbag, a flash lamp and a miscellany of interesting objects. The small pearl-handled handgun was a winner.

  “I can’t take you all the way,” she said, putting her foot down. “I have to turn inland soon onto a highway to cross the island. I’m going to be late as it is.”

  “No problem, ma’am,” said Jake, settling back on the comfortable seat and closing his eyes. A dozing passenger was no threat. He had a bank account in New York. He had opened it on one of his many visits. There was nothing in it, maybe ten dollars. Soon it would be bulging.

  *

  Luke was puzzled by Holly’s abrupt words on the phone. Cool and like were not in her vocabulary. She shunned such trite words. He wrote Cool You Like in capital letters on a scrap of paper, over and over again, trying to make sense of them. Then he changed the words around but they still made no sense.

  Holly had a sharp brain. He knew that. She would get some kind of clue over to them if she possibly could. He turned the YOU into a single capital letter U, as used in emails. COOLULIKE, joined up. He was no wiser. C U L, as initials, meant nothing but then he remembered the sneezing. Holly never had a cold. She was cold-proof.

  “Is there a map of Barbados around?” he asked.

  “I’ll fetch you one,” said Lily. She looked strained and exhausted, barely able to hold a tray.

  “I think you need some sleep, Lily,” said Luke. “We want you to help us, of course, and so will Holly when we find her.”

  “You will find her?”

  “Yes,
we’ll find her,” said Luke, more reassuring himself. “Don’t worry. It won’t be long now.”

  “I’ll get the map first. Then maybe I’ll sleep a bit. I’z very tired.”

  “A big map.”

  “A big map, sir. All the old names and places. I know the one. It’s very old.”

  DS Colin Woodley had a prompt reply from the cruise company. They gave him a list of all male passengers with an initial J. But they also said that every one of them could be cleared of any involvement with the accident. They had all gone ashore on excursions, registered as leaving the ship on the scanning computer.

  *

  The Purser had come across something they could not explain. The Colonel’s boarding pass had also been scanned out at the head of the gangway, yet they checked that he had been booked for a massage and was not planning to go ashore. He’d been on his way to the treatment rooms when he fell down the stairs.

  It’s very curious, they added. Their system was fool-proof. They checked passengers out and passengers in. They could tell if a passenger was late returning to the ship and who it was. The captain only waited a certain length of time. It was always his decision. On this occasion, the Colonel’s pass was not scanned back on board and by then he was in the medical centre, waiting to be taken ashore before being flown home by air ambulance.

  Whoever went ashore using the Colonel’s boarding pass, did not return.

  “It is certainly getting more and more curious,” Colin told Sadie on the phone. “I’m getting bad vibes. I also asked about the Colonel’s belongings. Apparently a steward packs them up and they are stored till arrival at Southampton. I asked if there was any jewellery, particularly a Rolex watch. The answer was no.”

  “What about Holly?” Sadie asked. “Have you heard anything?”

  “Sorry, there’s no news, love. I’m keeping in touch.”

  “I want to fly out there.”

  “Sadie, how would that help? Stay where you are. She’ll get in touch with you if she can. Would you like me to come over?”

  Sadie nodded. Colin took her silence as a yes.

  *

  The locum pathologist at the hospital was worked off his feet. Mostly road accidents. People who drove too fast, always on the phone. He had kept the jug of rum punch from Tiger Bay Plantation House in the refrigerator. It was half full. The boy was recovering well after his bout of sickness and fever. There was nothing to worry about. He would learn that too much alcohol at a young age had its consequences.

  It was a beautifully shaped jug, made of local blue glass, the kind that cost a bomb in the tourist shops in Bridgetown. He wondered if they wanted the jug back. It would look good in his hospital apartment with a selection of tropical ferns.

  A few quick tests and then he would phone Tiger Bay House and ask if they wanted the jug to be returned. They’d probably forgotten about it by now.

  But he didn’t phone Tiger Bay. Instead he phoned the Royal Barbados Police Force at Central Police Station.

  “I want to talk to the Assistant Superintendent. I’m calling from the hospital. I’m the locum pathologist. The resident pathologist is on leave.” He waited while they put him through.

  “How can I help you, doctor?”

  “I have tested a sample of rum-punch taken from Tiger Bay House. You may recall that a garden boy was taken seriously ill there, a few days back. The sample contains arsenic trioxide which is almost tasteless but is not always soluble. There’s enough arsenic in that jug to kill off the entire family.”

  “Thank you, doctor. I’ll pass this onto the Senior Superintendent and we will inform the family. You have been very helpful.”

  He put the phone down. He labelled and stored the samples, correctly weighed and dated in case they were required as evidence. The jug went into a plastic bag. He didn’t want it any more.

  *

  She ran up the steps to the main entrance of Tiger Bay Plantation House. The big doors stood wide open to greet guests. The reception had already started. She could hear voices and the tinkling of glasses coming from the patio.

  “I need to use a phone,” she said to the dark girl holding a tray of drinks. “It’s urgent.”

  “Yes, of course, madam,” said Lily. She had had a sleep and put on a fresh uniform, pulled her hair back into a tight bun. “You can use the phone in here.”

  She showed the distraught woman into the small sitting room. The woman snatched up the receiver and dialled 211, the emergency number.

  “I’ve been robbed,” she said. “My phone and my gun, both gone from the glove compartment of my car. It’s a Smith & Wesson, J-frame with a pearl handle. And I know who took them. I gave a lift to a hitchhiker. He took them when I was looking at a map.”

  “Do you have a licence for this gun, madam?”

  She swallowed hard, getting her breath back. “Not exactly. I’ve got the application forms, six pages, I ask you. Who’s got time to fill in six pages and then find a Justice of the Peace to witness them? I certainly don’t have time.”

  “Please wait while I pass you onto a Detective Inspector. He will be interested. He will need your name and address and a description of the hitchhiker. I must inform you that it is against the law to carry an unlicensed gun.”

  Lily had been half listening at the door. She went in with her tray of drinks.

  “Would madam like some champagne? It’s very hot and a drink will help to cool you. Can I get you anything else? Maybe an aspirin?”

  The woman was rubbing the sweat off her hands. She supposed she was lucky that she still had her rings and her diamond wristlet watch.

  An aspirin wasn’t going to help much but she gave Lily a wane smile. “Thank you, but no. I have to sort this out myself.” She took some champagne. It was a good vintage. She barely remembered her own wedding.

  Lily nodded towards the clutch bag on the woman’s lap “At least the thief didn’t take your bag. I couldn’t live without my bag.”

  *

  They were talking about moving the Colonel out of Intensive Care, as he was so much improved. He could still hardly speak but his brain was functioning and his injuries healing slowly.

  He didn’t want to be moved to another ward because that meant he would lose Lucy, the nurse who had put him in touch with Detective Sergeant Woodley. That young man had been genuinely interested and his pad of paper and pen was inspirational. The Colonel knew he had got his message across. Perhaps someone would do something now.

  Colin often popped into St Thomas’s during a break. They were getting to know his cheery face and waved him through. He was surprised to find the Colonel looking glum.

  “Move…me,” he said, shaking his head.

  “They are going to move you?” said Colin, pulling up a chair. “That’s good news. That means you are getting better.”

  “Lu..ss.”

  “Ah, Lucy, you mean. She won’t be looking after you anymore? I’m sure she’ll come and see you. She’s that kind of girl. Now I have some information for you. Your Rolex watch. Apparently someone was caught in Bridgetown trying to sell a Rolex and quite a few items of jewellery. You may get your watch back.”

  The Colonel nodded. He didn’t care about getting his watch back. “Ja…Ja…,” he tried to say.

  “None of the passengers with the initial J were on board when you were pushed down the stairs. They had all gone ashore on excursions. So we’ve drawn a blank there.”

  The Colonel began to cough. “Ck…ck…” Colin helped him drink some water and dab dry the dribble down his chin. “Jay…ck.”

  Colin stood up. Time was running out. He had grown attached to the old man but work on his desk at the Yard was piling up. There was never enough time.

  “Take care. See you, soon, sir. Maybe I’ll bring my girlfriend, Sadie. She’s really nice. You’d like her.”

  The Colonel nodded. He had a feeling that his time was running out.

  *

  Holly hoped Jake would be gone a l
ong time but it was only a few hours before she saw him climbing back over the rocky island and slithering down into the tiny cove. He was swinging a full can of petrol.

  “Hiya,” he shouted. “Have you missed me?”

  “Sure,” she said. “Those birds don’t talk much.” She had fed them the rest of the stale bread. It had been pleasant being on her own, even with the shackles. She had tried everything to get them off, but they needed a key to unlock them.

  “Did you bring any bread?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “Any milk?”

  “No. What do you think I am? A paid servant? I got the two most important things in life, petrol and whiskey. And I got a lift back in a delivery van. That’s how lucky I am. Where’s the food? I’m starving.”

  “It’s ready.”

  Holly had been hard pushed to make a meal out of what was left in the store cupboard. The owners had obviously been coming ashore at Bridgetown to stock up.

  She had thrown together two tins, one of tomato soup and the other of tuna chunks. She added a packet of noodles and a lot of chilli powder. It was hardly Cordon Bleu but it tasted reasonable. She could have eaten the lot.

  Instead she stirred in some of the Diazepam, hoping the chilli powder would disguise any taste. She licked out both tins using her fingers, wondering if Luke would ever take her out for a meal again. Something simple at a country pub would be wonderful. A sandwich with a glass of red wine would be bliss.

  Jake jumped into the cabin and tore off the trainers. His feet were rubbed sore. He had a blister on both heels. Holly was not sympathetic but she gave him the tube of antiseptic ointment.

  He poured himself a large whiskey from the bottle that was already opened. He put a new bottle on the other side of the cabin. The can of petrol was left on deck.

  “Jesus, those bloody shoes. Thank goodness I had two lifts. One from a classy bird on the way to a fancy wedding. Get my drift, Holly? They are still holding the wedding, even without a bridesmaid. So who cares about you? No one is worried, except your boyfriend, who is bringing me lots of lovely lolly.”