by Sarah Kelly
“Yes,” said India, a little confused but just about following along.
“To put it simply,” Luis said, talking ever so fast, “your insight ability comes from being able to find connections between seemingly unconnected ideas and events. When you have better insight you can see even these feint links.” He pointed up at the thick spider’s web above. “Then find their significance.”
India nodded. “Okay. I think I can understand that.”
Luis winked. “It will help you with your murder solving, let me tell you that.”
“Oh, didn’t you know?” India said, the case is closed. “Will Tremblay killed Katriane.”
Luis took a puff of the cigar. “No, he didn’t.”
“What? But he confessed.”
“I don’t know more, so I can’t explain. But my insight ability,” he said, nudging her, “tells me that.”
“It doesn’t tell you anything else?” India said.
“It can’t give the whole game away, can it? It would take all the fun out of life. Anyhow, I can feel my student in Nigeria’s waiting for me. So I’ll show you how to boost your insight ability, and then… Well, I feel there’s something else I need to teach you. But it’s pretty difficult, and I’m only gonna show you once, so you’ve gotta be razor sharp. Got it?”
India nodded. “Let’s do this.”
*****
India didn’t remember how she got home or in bed, but the next morning, she woke up feeling totally different. “Oh my gosh,” she said, realizing something. She reached for her phone, but it wasn’t on her side table.
She dashed into the kitchen living area, and found her smartphone on the table. After a quick glance at the time – it was 6.45am, the day just beginning to brighten – she called Xavier.
“Indie, everything okay?” he answered.
“Sure,” she said. They always seemed to call each other in sensible hours. She had often wanted to give him a call to say goodnight but they weren’t quite there yet. India didn’t like to let all her feelings show right away. “I just realized something, Zave.” She wondered if it was her boosted insight.
He laughed. “Yeah?”
“Will Tremblay didn’t do it,” India said, “and he didn’t kill himself.”
Xavier was suddenly serious. “What? How do you know?”
“It’s kinda… out there,” she said, wishing she could tell him about Luis and all the strange goings on the previous night. “But you remember the suicide note? First, why was it typed? Someone didn’t want their handwriting to be identified. But I’d thought of that already. What I realized just now is that he was Canadian.”
“So…?”
“I remember the wording of the letter, kind of. Not all of it, but some,” India said, excited. “And all the spellings were in American English. I’d have noticed otherwise. Wouldn’t you?”
There was silence at the other end of the line for a moment. “Maybe he just used American English ‘cause he’s been here quite a while, hasn’t he?”
“But that’s the thing. The day of the wedding, I heard him and Aleister arguing about spelling, and Will was adamant about using Canadian spelling.”
“What words were they, In?”
India paced her little home, racking her brain. “I only remember two, but there may have been more. Enamored. I remember that one because it was a kinda weird word choice. And center. He wrote something like, I am at the center of all this. Well, someone wrote it. Not Will Tremblay.”
“Gosh,” Xavier said. “So you think someone killed him, then hanged him to make it look like a suicide?”
“Absolutely.” India felt so full of energy she could burst.
“The autopsy will show if that’s the case,” Xavier said, “but I’ve got a hunch you may just be right, In. Looks like this won’t be as straightforward as we thought.”
“Looks that way.”
*****
India gave not a single thought to her Miss Marple book as she sat at her post, elevated amongst the swaying palms. The sky was overcast, and the air was warm and heavy and wet around her, making her sweat and itch. The ocean chopped and frothed, its turquoise turned brown, and its roar had become aggressive. Of course in that weather, no one was on the beach. She looked up at a dark gray cloud, knowing it was going to burst into a cold shower. Shivering in her sundress, she wished she’d brought something waterproof. As it was, she was going to have to soak through, then hope the sun would peek out and dry her. The lifeguard post had a little cover overhead, more to prevent sunburn than getting rained on – any little drive of wind would slash the rain at a diagonal, and she’d be soaked.
She peered through the palms, wondering what they were doing in the complex – Aleister, Cecelia, Harry. It was so hard to know what to feel, when she had no idea who the murderer was. For any of the innocents, this Will business might have felt like some kind of closure for them. But soon their wound would be slashed open again, once they were told the truth. And the murderer probably felt pretty smug right about then, but as soon as the autopsy report came back, they’d be thrown into a panic.
India couldn’t work out who’d killed Katriane.
It could have been Cecelia. After all, they did hate each other, and it was clear Cecelia was somewhat pushed to the side in favor of her princessy little sister. Maybe she hadn’t only slept with Will Tremblay, perhaps she’d been in love with him! The stories about his ex wife could have all been lies. Cecelia could have killed Katriane with a single bullet, then bided her time. When she went out shopping, or beforehand, she met Will in a secluded part of the beach and strangled him. Then she hung him, to make it look like a suicide. But already there was a problem with that theory – India doubted Cecelia would have been strong enough to haul Will’s dead body even an inch, let alone up onto a rope. That would have taken two people, at least, or a very strong man.
A very strong man like Harry. Maybe Harry had helped her.
Or maybe Harry had helped Aleister, India thought. Maybe the boys had shot Katriane for him when he was on the beach, then he’d killed Will and Harry had helped him stage the suicide. But why?
Or perhaps Harry was doing it all alone, and wasn’t who he said he was. Maybe he was working for the people who sent the threats. Perhaps he was the one to send the threats in the first place. It was then India realized she hadn’t spoken to Aleister about the threats in depth, she’d been so sidetracked with the murder. She made a mental note to quiz him about them.
At that moment, she saw the old beat up Chevy with the blacked out windows, though no music thumped out of it that morning. It pulled into the parking lot at a snail’s pace, the gravel crunching underneath its low profile tires. India blinked, checking her eyes weren’t deceiving her, then whipped out her cell to ring Xavier and let him know.
“I’ll be there any second,” Xavier said quickly. “Stay safe, In.”
India watched from her place behind the palms as the two boys got out of the car. Even from a distance they looked disheveled, with none of their previous put together street style. They practically limped toward the complex in their crumpled clothes. India’s mind raced – why were they there? Maybe they’d come to finish off the job, and kill Aleister, or Cecelia? Perhaps they were sent by whoever was making threats to the family.
India launched herself off her lifeguard post and onto the sand, then kicked off her flip flops and sprinted at full speed toward the entrance to the complex. Though she knew it could be dangerous to intercept them, it could be catastrophic if she didn’t. If she could keep them out in the open, where there might be witnesses from the street, surely they wouldn’t brandish a gun and shoot her? Besides, they had no reason to kill her.
“Hey!” she hollered, watching them as they got closer to the entrance. “Hey!” Her bare feet caught the roughness of the steps as she took them in twos up to the parking lot.
When she got to the top she found them staring at her, frozen and wild eyed. She had
not expected that. Up close they looked even worse. The African American’s eyes were bloodshot, like he hadn’t slept in forever, while the white boy had seemed to age ten years, stubble growing at his jaw.
“Hey,” she said, almost feeling sorry for them. “What are you doing here?”
“We wanna…” the African American boy began, then his hoarse voice gave out on him and he had to clear his throat. “We need to talk to the bodyguard.”
“Why?”
“He’s the one who got us into this mess,” the white one said. “You know where he is?”
India heard police sirens in the distance. She knew Xavier and his colleagues would be there at any moment. So she pressed forward boldly. “Did you shoot Katriane Hooper-Walcott?”
They both looked horrified.
“No!” the white boy said.
“No, no, no! The bodyguard paid us to stand behind one of the houses, that’s all. But we had to stay longer than we were told, and then someone got shot, so we ran. Then we got chased and we had to leave the car and run, and we thought the cops would take it away but we got it back again. We’ve been hiding from the cops all this time, but my mom told me we need to hand ourselves in and tell the truth. So we’re coming here to tell that jackass bodyguard that we’re not taking no rap for him, and that he should turn himself in.”
Whoah. “But we found a gun in the car. A revolver.”
The white boy walked up to her, his face painted with desperation. “That’s not ours,” he said. “We swear. We’re not gangsters or anything. We’re just college boys and… maybe we got mixed in the wrong thing, but we’re not bad guys.”
India folded her arms. “So how did the gun get in your car?”
“It must have been planted,” the black boy said, his eyes wide with fear.
“So the bodyguard hired you to stand in the back of one of the houses,” India said.
They nodded.
“What are your names?”
“I’m Malik Shields,” the African American one said. “And he’s Tyler Langdale. We’re studying engineering at Florida University. Look.” He dug a student card from out of his pocket and thrust it in her face. Tyler followed suit. It all seemed to check out.
“We swear we didn’t do it,” Tyler said. “Please, please believe us.”
India took a deep breath. “I do believe you. But I don’t know if anyone else will. You’ve really gotten yourselves into some serious trouble.”
“I know,” Malik said, shaking his head, his eyes glistening with unfallen tears. “We just wanted to pay off our college tuition early, but… we made the wrong choice.”
“Big time,” Tyler added.
India nodded with a grimace as the cop cars came screeching into the parking lot. “I’m afraid so, boys.”
As soon as she caught sight of Xavier pulling up, she ran over to him. “Zave, I know you have to arrest these boys,” she said quickly as he got out of the patrol car. “But they say they didn’t do it and I really believe them.”
“Okay,” Xavier said, looking confused. He was staring right past her toward Tyler and Malik, reaching for his cuffs. India looked around to see Curtis and others doing the same. “You know you were right about William Tremblay. The suicide was staged.”
Malik and Tyler put their hands up in the air and stood still. “We’re willing to be arrested,” Tyler said.
Malik nodded. “But we didn’t kill anybody.”
“Hah!” an aggressive sounding policeman said. India hadn’t seen him before. He was extremely tall, and quite well built, with a short buzz cut of blond hair. His face was mean, and set in hatred. “Yeah, right. Look like a pair of scumbag killers, if I’ve ever seen any.”
Xavier shot forward. “I’ll handle this, Blake,” he said. “Curtis, come with your cuffs. Now.”
And within a couple minutes, the boys were in the back of Xavier’s patrol car, and Blake was skulking back to his vehicle, his face a picture of envy and malice. India shivered just to look at him.
Xavier gave India a nod as he drove away, which she knew meant, “I’ll call you later.” There was nothing more he could say right then, being on duty.
Just as the cop cars were leaving, Aleister came out of the complex, frowning. He smiled upon seeing India, though, a warm and gentle smile. “Why hello, Miss India. What was all that about?”
“They found the boys,” India said, watching him closely. “Took them into custody.”
Aleister’s eyes welled up with tears, and he surprised her by actually dropping to his knees there at the beginning of the bougainvillea walkway. He looked up at the sky and raised his hands up, as tears fell down his cheeks. “Thank You, Lord. Thank You, Jesus.”
India hated herself for wondering if it was all an act, but she couldn’t help herself. When he’d got to his feet and wiped his tears away, his shoulders still shaking a little, she asked him, “Do you think they were sent by the people who were threatening your family?”
“Probably,” he said with a nod. “I don’t see who else it could be. I don’t mean to… well, to sound too big for my britches, Miss India, but most people… well, they don’t think I’m such a bad old guy.”
“You’re popular,” India said.
“I know a lot of people,” Aleister said. “And most everyone I meet becomes my friend.”
India nodded.
“So it’s all solved then,” he said with a sigh of relief. “Those boys shot Katriane at William’s behest, then he was crushed under the guilt and committed suicide.”
If Aleister was innocent, India hated what she was about to do. But the truth was the truth. “I’m afraid not, Mr. Hooper-Walcott.”
He didn’t even bother to insist she call him Aleister. “What?” he said.
“The boys didn’t fire the shot, they said,” India told him. “And Will didn’t kill himself either. He was murdered.”
Aleister paled. “Good grief.”
As she watched the news sink in, most uncomfortably, a new thought came to her mind. If the boys didn’t fire the shot, there were only two people who could have. Cecelia and Harry. Aleister had been on the beach when Katriane was murdered. As had Will.
And why had Harry employed the boys just to stand behind the house? So that when they ran, they’d be the automatic suspects? Why did they even run in the first place, if the shot had been silenced? If they were behind the building like they said, how would they have known?
And another piece of the puzzle was still missing. “Aleister, is it okay if I could see those threats that were sent to you?”
“Of course,” he said, his face twisted in anguish. “I’ll get them to you as soon as I can.”
For now, India knew she had to find a way to make Harry talk, but her heartbeat quickened in her chest just thinking about it. Harry was a huge man, and could probably kill her with his bare hands, let alone with a weapon. If he was truly the killer, and had murdered both Katriane, and then framed Will with the suicide, she had to tread extremely carefully. What would stop him from killing again?
CHAPTER 8
India eventually tracked down Harry at a bar near the terrace. Given the whole complex had been locked down for the sole use of the Hooper-Walcott party, there were no staff to pour drinks or take money. The shutters were closed. Harry sat on a bar stool in the darkened room, watching a game of basketball on the sports screen and sipping a beer. A six pack sat on the bar stool next to him.
India paused at the doorway. “Harry?”
He jumped, knocking his beer can over. It spilled on the bar and he swore, then wiped it up with his fist. “What do you want?” he demanded.
India felt more intimidated than ever, but somehow that made her even more determined to press on and ask him questions. No one could intimidate her out of investigating, she told herself. But still, she sent out Luis a message, asking to be protected. The energy will do it for you, he replied right away. Nevertheless, she hovered over Xavier’s number in her p
hone. One click and he’d hear everything.
“I was wondering why you told me you hired those boys to scare people away, when they told me you hired them to stand behind the cottage Katriane was staying in.”
“Most of the threats were against Katriane, so it made sense for them to be there,” he said. “Now leave me alone.”
India strode into the room, her heart thumping. She decided to test him. “But it doesn’t make sense, does it? Because they heard the shot and ran.”
“No,” Harry said. “They didn’t hear a shot, because it was silenced.”
“Yes. So why did they run away then?”
“If you want to poke around anyone, it’s Aleister you should be investigating, not me.”
“Aleister. Why? Why would he want to kill his own daughter?”
Harry stared up at the basketball game. “I don’t know. No one knows the inner workings of that guy’s mind. He’s got this perfect, Christian, family man image, but once you know the guy, once you’ve been living in his house, it falls apart real quick, let me tell you.”
India sat a few barstools away, interested. “What’s he like?”
“He was always hollering at Katriane, and at Cecelia, any time she got in his way,” he said. “He refused to pay me properly and exploded when I confronted him about it. This whole good guy thing is all an act. Man of the year, my ass.”
“Man of the year?”
Harry screwed up his lip and took a slurp of beer. “Everyone in Florida loves him. He’s always winning awards and accolades and making speeches here there and everywhere. He’s even running for Mayor of Monroe County. Everyone thinks he’s God’s gift to this state. More like the devil’s gift, I’d say.”
India nodded, stunned. She hadn’t expected that at all. “But still, why would he want to kill his own daughter?”
“I don’t know.”
“And he couldn’t have fired the shot, because he was at the beach when she died.” He shrugged like it didn’t matter, which exasperated her. To get a reaction, she said, “I think it’s much more likely you did it.”
