“Best offer I’ve had all day,” she murmured into his neck.
“I would surely hope so. Just how many offers do you get before six in the morning?” He chuckled and began to relax along with her as they explored each other’s bodies. Burgess banished all thoughts of snuff films, compost heaps and backhoes as Jacintha worked her magic on him. God, how he loved this woman but in the back of his mind was a new worry. What if living with him was too much for her and she got tired of him? He resolved to do everything he could to get himself back on track, even if it meant a session or two with the psychiatrist.
On his way to work, Burgess found himself driving slowly. He knew the rain was not the culprit. He always found himself procrastinating when he had to report to the superintendent. He knew the bureaucratic buzzard would go ballistic when he found out about the adult movies involving some high-powered businessmen - not to mention a well-known politician. Burgess knew the meeting would be uncomfortable and wished there was a way around it. “I’d better go see him ay-sap and get this over with,” he murmured to himself as he inserted a Bob Marley CD into the car’s sound system. Before long, he found himself singing along to Buffalo Soldier and his mood began to lighten. He waved at the familiar figure of Johnny Barnes, who was standing on the roundabout at the bottom of Trimingham Hill, greeting the early commuters. This morning, he had replaced his customary straw hat for a complete set of yellow rain gear. He never missed a day and blew kisses and waved at the islanders every morning, come rain or shine. He had become such a beloved, almost iconic member of the community that, further into town there was now lifesize bronze statue of him. Burgess looked up at the sky – still dark and menacing. Pulling over to the side of the road, he flipped open his cell phone and dialled De Souza.
“Hey, De Souza, it’s me. Could you arrange for a tent to be put up over the compost heap?”
“Already done.”
“Good man. I’ve got to see the superintendent first and then I’ll be over there. You go ahead and start without me.”
“Will do. I’m on my way over there now and Archie is also coming.”
“Call me if anything comes up. I’ll be glad of any opportunity to leave the superintendent early.”
“I hear you, boss.” He chuckled. “I’ll see what Archie and I can cook up.”
CHAPTER 21
Alexeev felt almost triumphant at having successfully escaped both Moscow and his bodyguard. He was now on an Air Berlin flight to Palma de Mallorca, looking forward to the warmer weather and a change of scenery. The island always lifted his spirits and he loved the spring weather there – warm, sunny with low humidity; just what he needed. He would camp out at his ex-wife’s villa and sit by the pool, go for walks in the Tramuntana Mountains, eat fresh fish at his favorite restaurant in Sant Elm and go for tapas at La Bóveda in Palma. Basically, he just wanted to lie low and buy himself some time so he could figure out what was going on. He was, however, a little perplexed that he had not been able to get in contact with his ex-wife. She had neither answered his telephone calls nor his e-mails. This was not like her. Normally, she was a good correspondent and kept him abreast of his boys’ accomplishments in school and on the football field. She was also never shy in outlining their needs and how much extra money she required to accommodate them. Even though they had split up, he did not begrudge her calls for more money and they got along better now they were no longer married. They both also loved their boys and were proud of them. One day, he hoped, they might follow him into the film business. For now, however, he was content to be the indulgent, if absent, father.
He looked out the window as the plane followed the craggy coastline and then crossed over the mountains towards the plains where the Don Quixote-style windmills would soon come into view. He was enjoying the varied scenery: the pink-hued cliffside homes of Deía, the stone-faced fincas of the plains of Lluc Major with their fields of crops or sheep, the cobalt blue of the Mediterranean, never far away, hugging the coastline like a reassuring nanny. A feeling of relief swept over him. Perhaps the island gave him a false sense of security but, nevertheless, he was grateful for some respite from the feeling of doom that lately had taken up residence in his bowels.
He braced himself for the landing, patting his pockets to ensure his cell phone and passport were in their place, suddenly overcome with a feeling of urgency. He needed to get to the apartment and find out what was going on. Where was his ex-wife?
Meanwhile, as Alexeev prepared to disembark in Mallorca, Burgess completed his report to the superintendent.
“This is bad business, Burgess. Very bad. I will need to consult the governor ay-sap on how to proceed. You say the Minister for Information, as well as Robert Flood and several others, are all on film in compromising circumstances?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Very bad. Keep this under your hat. How many people know about it?”
“Just my immediate team, sir.”
“Well, we all know what happened last time.”
Burgess caught the tinge of sarcasm in the superintendent’s voice - a not too friendly reference to an unfortunate incident in the Serious Crimes Unit whilst investigating his last case. “Yes, sir but we caught the mole who leaked the information and he’s no longer on the force.”
“What’s this technician like who’s on secondment from the private sector?”
“He seems a good man, sir. He has signed a confidentiality agreement and appears to be very professional. He’s also a former policeman, so he knows how police matters should be handled.”
“Well, that’s reassuring.”
Suddenly, Burgess’s cell phone vibrated. “Excuse me, sir. This may be regarding the search for the missing girl.”
“Very well, go ahead.”
Burgess gratefully answered the call. It was Archie.
“Hey bro’. You’d better get over here.”
Burgess hoped their digging had not been a wild goose chase. It would inflame the superintendent’s already sore temper. “Have you found a body?”
“Oh, better than that. We’ve found two.”
CHAPTER 22
Mallorca was showing off. With not a cloud in sight, it was hard to get a fix on the size of the sky. It merely looked vast and magnificent. As he made his way in his rented Mercedes towards Santa Ponsa, the scenery changed from almond trees to oleanders, in fact, kilometers of pink oleander bushes planted in the median of the highway. Pulling off the main artery, he decided to take a scenic back road through Son Ferrer and El Toro. He wanted to enjoy the fields of sheep and hear their bells as he allowed the wind to sweep through the car. No air conditioning, no music: a simple communing with Mother Nature. Normally, he was not that appreciative of his surroundings. He wondered if it was his fear of impending death that had sharpened his faculties, made him look at things in a different way… almost as if he was looking through the camera lens and taking in the scene in that analytical and artistic way that had marked his career as a director of singular ability. It would not be long before he made his way up the road that wound around the hill towards the villa. His ex-wife had chosen well. She lived on a hill, affectionately nicknamed the ‘Ensaimada’ because it resembled a round, coiled pastry typical of Mallorca. From her villa, she enjoyed sweeping views of the Mediterranean, punctuated to the West by the stark beauty of the Malgrats Islands and to the East by Port Adriano and, more distantly, the island of El Toro. It was a breathtaking panorama and he longed to sit on the terrace, vodka tonic in hand, contemplating its ever-changing light and perspectives. He knew, as he had never known before, that he wanted his old life back. He hated the feeling of being hunted. He needed security… reassurance that all would be as it once was.
As he drew up to the villa, parked and inserted his key into the oversized Spanish door with its brass escutcheons, his world was further shattered.
A ginger cat flew out of the house, causing him to jump aside in terror. Something had spooked the animal or had
it been locked in for some time? He moved cautiously into the kitchen where he noted, with a clutch of fear, the smashed glass stove top; on the refrigerator, drawings that his boys had made tugged at his heart. On the countertop in a large glass dish was an array of photographs, pens, loose change and some keys that he did not recognize. In the living room, a single dining chair lay on its side. He made his way upstairs to the master bedroom and his heart almost stopped. A half-empty cup of coffee, that had long since gone cold, rested on the dressing table. Ominously, on the snow-white sheets of the tousled bed was a dark stain. Was it coffee or could that be blood? The safe in the walk-in closet had been forcibly removed. Wood splinters like pine needles carpeted its floor.
What chilled him the most was that nothing else appeared to be missing. The children’s toys, clothes, school satchels were all still there. His wife’s suitcases, beauty products and clothing were all there. Nothing seemed to indicate they had gone away. His mind froze and, try as he could, he could not recall the dates of the children’s school holidays. Could they be on half-term? Suddenly he realized his wife’s laptop was nowhere in evidence. He felt a thumping in his temples and a vice-like grip around the back of his neck. A cold sweat drizzled down the small of his back. Was he going to have a heart attack? The feeling of nausea was overwhelming and he ran to the bathroom to be sick. What had happened here? He needed to calm down and make some calls. He needed to find out if the kids were in school. Yes, perhaps they had new satchels and were still in school. Even as he clung to that hope, he knew this was no hoax. His life, as he knew it, had changed forever.
Then it hit him. If the burglars had taken her laptop, they would know he was planning on coming here. Grabbing the keys to the rental car, he turned around and ran out the villa. Reversing so violently that he smashed a large pot of geraniums, he sped out of the driveway and down the hill, praying that the Policia Local would not stop him for speeding. Intermittently checking the rearview mirror, he was reassured to see nobody following him. He had absolutely no idea where he was heading. But then again… if he didn’t know, nobody else could either.
CHAPTER 23
Mr. Tatem had come up trumps. The old gardener’s casual observation regarding the compost heap had given the investigation a substantive new lead. Burgess looked at the pit with the two bundles resting side by side, enveloped in black garbage bags and secured with lengths of rope. They had opened them both in order to ascertain that they were human remains and were now waiting for the arrival of Jacintha in her official role as pathologist. He knew she would don her Wellington boots and get down in the mud and give her preliminary observations under the shelter of the tent, which served to ward off most of the rain. Jacintha was a professional and used to the rigors of the life of a crime fighter, which effectively she was too. He sighed as he walked over to De Souza.
“Good work, bro’.”
“Thanks, Buddy. Sad day though, isn’t it? Who do you think the other girl is?”
“No idea at this point. I guess we’ll have to check with Immigration and see if there are any girls who have overstayed their time here. Certainly, they don’t match any missing persons report.”
They both turned as the pathologist’s car edged its way around the back of the house.
Jacintha got out of the car already dressed in shiny bright blue foul weather gear - hat, boots and all.
Archie rushed across from the foot of the grave to assist her with her bag and quipped, “Going deep-sea fishing, doc?”
“Ha, ha, very funny, Archie. I didn’t realize you would have provided all the comforts of home.” She inclined her head in the direction of the tent.
“Let it never be said that the Bermuda police do not go all-out to please.” Archie’s levity always worked to relieve the tension at times like this.
Jacintha made her way to the pit and Burgess took her hand and helped her step down into it.
“It’s pretty grim, I’m afraid,” he said quietly.
“Murder usually is,” she replied pragmatically. She put on her latex gloves and took out a pair of scissors. Expertly, she cut away the plastic, careful not to damage the rope and its knots. In this way, she was able to have a better look at the face of the first body. “Well, from the description of the girl you think may have been suffocated, I think this could be her. She’s probably around fourteen to sixteen years of age. I’d guess she’s been dead around three to four weeks. Again, I’ll be able to give you a better idea, once I get her back to the morgue.”
She moved to the second corpse and cut open the plastic in the same fashion.
“You guys haven’t had a chance to get a good look at this one, right?”
Burgess looked at her quizzically. “Not yet, we just know it’s human.”
“Were you expecting another young girl?”
“Yes,” all three of them chorused.
“Well, this one’s male, around twenty-five to thirty, well-nourished. He has petechial haemorrhaging. That causes the red blood spots in the whites of his eyes. You generally see that more with ligature strangulation. I’ll have a better look at his neck when I get him cleaned up.”
“Let me have a look.” Burgess got down into the pit beside her and looked at the ravaged face of the corpse. “I wonder if that could be the guy who was her on-screen lover. De Souza, Archie, come and take a look. What do you think? It’s hard to be sure as he’s quite decomposed.”
Archie and De Souza exchanged places with Jacintha and Burgess and both nodded their agreement.
Archie looked back at Burgess. “Yeah, bro’, that could be him. Didn’t he have a tattoo on his hip?”
“That’s right,” De Souza interjected. “It was one of his distinguishing features on the DVD. I can ask Skinner to give the doctor a close-up photo for comparison purposes.”
“That would be great,” agreed Jacintha with a smile barely visible underneath the brim of her rain hat. “Now, gentlemen, we need to make way for the police photographer.” The photographer had arrived and, sure enough, coming around the corner was the ZBF photographer, meaning that Johnny McCabe would not be far behind.
“Yikes,” said Archie. “Look who’s already here.”
“Archie, keep him at least one hundred feet away from here. It’s an official crime scene. God, now it’s going to be all over the news. Shit!” Burgess’s frustration was palpable.
Archie and De Souza moved over towards the ZBF photographer to head him off at the pass. Jacintha made her way back to her car and backed out, just as an ambulance arrived to remove the corpses.
“Great,” said Burgess, as he made his way past Archie and De Souza. “This is going to make great footage on tonight’s news. The superintendent is going to have a coronary.”
“Well, if that happens, you can think of it as something positive coming from all of this.” Archie flashed him a wide grin.
Burgess could not help but smile back. “I guess that’s one way of looking at it. I’ll see you back at the station. I’ll need to get Jan Du Bois back over here from Toronto sooner than planned. She was supposed to join us next month but I hope we can persuade the Toronto police to release her earlier. We sure could use her forensic skills in going over this house and garden again.” With that, he crossed over to the police photographer and instructed him to take at least six photographs of the bodies in situ and then some close-ups of their faces. He then walked over to his car, removed his rain jacket and got in. Bodies were piling up and the pressure would mount from his superiors, as well as the government, to get the case cleared. He felt a curious elation at the thought of tracking the killers. This was what he did best. He liked a case with twists and turns. He wondered what crucial piece of information would be his corner piece of the puzzle, the piece that would serve to build the picture. He drove back carefully to the office, his mind full of hypotheses.
CHAPTER 24
Johnny McCabe was true to form and had filed a full and sensational account of the morning
’s gruesome discovery for the twelve o’clock news. This new development had, in turn, fuelled speculation on the People’s Corner that afternoon. Nana sat at her kitchen table with a cup of tea and a freshly baked ginger cookie. Digby lay at her feet, having already enjoyed one of his own. He liked these quiet times with his new mistress. While he adored running in the mornings with the two downstairs, a little shut-eye in the company of Nana was heaven on earth. He liked his new surroundings too. The garden with all its scents - just how many different ones could you find in one place? The sweet perfume of the wild freesias and the more pungent smell of the day lilies in the flowerbeds were personal favorites. The citrus trees - he liked to pee against their trunks - and the avocado tree provided welcome shade during the hottest part of the day. He particularly liked hanging out in the banana patch because there were lots of tree frogs and lizards lurking around in it. Under the bushes, he sometimes even surprised a toad. Nana had already taught him to stay away from them with the command, “Back away!” He knew that he was expected to retreat and would be rewarded if he did so. Digby was a quick learner, especially where food was involved. Of course, he had no idea the poison on the toad’s back could kill him, if he picked it up in his mouth. He just knew that if he stayed away from those creatures, life would be less complicated. He opened one eye as Nana leaned across and turned on the radio for the afternoon’s People’s Corner. He liked to watch her reaction. Sometimes, she would laugh; other times, she would look cross and make comments out loud to him about this or that. He could see she enjoyed the show and every afternoon, would take up her place in the kitchen to listen to it. This afternoon, the discovery of the two bodies was the main topic of conversation. Just as during the Square Snapper case, the islanders were in an uproar and, yet again, the topics of drugs, education - or lack thereof - the shortcomings of government leaders, crime and the need to attend church, were all aired again with great emotion (and often at great volume). The host, adept at managing even the most unruly of callers, had his hands full. He secretly enjoyed a good on-air dustup and knew that more and more people would be tuning in and encouraged to call. This was just how he liked it. Nana found herself agreeing with some, disagreeing with others, exclaiming this way and that. Digby thought it was a real party
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