A Plot to Die For (A Ghostwriter Mystery)

by C. A. Larmer

  “That’s beautiful handiwork,” Roxy agreed. “And it’s a real ruby?”

  Ingrid’s eyebrows arched even higher. “Of course it is real. I only wear the best. There are several tests you can do to prove this.”

  “Oh? Can it scratch glass like diamond?”

  The jeweller looked horrified. “We do not even do this silly test with diamonds. This can damage the jewel and lower its value. No, there are special tests for rubies, but most importantly—” she took the ring off and showed Roxy where it poked through at the back of the gold setting—“be careful of rubies that are placed in closed back settings. This often means they are glass. Also, glass rubies may have, how you say, bubbles? And scratches, that sort of thing. The ruby, the genuine ruby, will be perfect. Just the way I like it.”

  “You really know your stuff.”

  She noticed that Bernard was frowning. He had clearly had enough of this trivial conversation and was pushing his plate aside. He said something in German to his wife and they both stood up. They were good at doing things in unison. Like robots, thought Roxy.

  “Time for us to go,” he said and they nodded at Roxy and left the dining room, not by the main door, she noticed, but via the stairs leading down to the patio, bickering as they went.

  After finishing breakfast, Roxy wandered through the lobby and out to the side veranda where Chief Davara was looking over some of his notes with Inspector Sikani. Davara glanced up when he saw Roxy and offered her a chair while Sikani left them to it.

  “So now we have two quinine poisonings and still no suspect,” the Chief said, his fingers placed together at his lips.

  His brow was beaded with sweat but he appeared not to notice.

  “Oh, so Helen hasn’t been able to tell you what happened to her?” Roxy asked, surprised. “Is she still out of it?”

  “No, no, she is quite lucid. But she is refusing to speak to me.”

  “Really? Why?”

  He twiddled his fingers together and watched her for a moment.

  “Perhaps you can tell me this, Miss Parker.”

  Roxy blinked several times. “Me? What have I got to do with it?”

  “Miss Lilton will not talk to me, she will not talk to anyone but you.”

  “Me?” She repeated. “That’s odd. Did she say why?”

  “No, Miss Parker, she did not.”

  “So we still don’t know if someone tried to kill her or if this was a suicide attempt?”

  He shook his head. “My men found six discarded quinine packets on the terrace below Helen’s window this morning. She either threw them out there herself last night, before she collapsed, or somebody else did. We will be testing them for fingerprints later. We have also taken the liquor out of her room and the glass for testing.”

  He was clearly on the ball this time but she knew as well as he did that the answers rested with Helen, and she was not speaking. At least not to him. Roxy wondered why. The Chief was also thinking along these lines.

  “I am not stupid, Miss Parker. I know very well that Miss Lilton thinks I am not up to the job of investigating her mother’s death. Perhaps she feels she can not trust me. But it is imperative that I am kept in the loop. This is a murder investigation. This is no time for fun and games. It looks very much to me like somebody on this island just tried to kill Miss Lilton the way they tried to kill her mother.”

  He took a handkerchief from his pocket and patted it against his forehead.

  “I don’t know who she is protecting or why, but I have had enough of the secrets and I have had enough of being patronised. It is my investigation. If somebody has tried to kill Miss Lilton, they may be the same person who killed her mother. I need to know.”

  “I understand that, Chief Davara. But I honestly don’t know what happened to Helen, and I would tell you if I did.”

  He stared at her again for a few minutes and then, seemingly placated, said, “When Miss Lilton does return to Dormay she will no doubt speak with you. I will expect a full report from you after that. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, of course. When is she coming back?”

  “I am not sure. Doctor Spinks does not want her to leave the hospital for a few days but I believe she is much better so...”

  “Should I go over there, to the Beela hospital and speak with her?”

  He considered this. “No, no, I would like you to stay here, plis, for now.”

  She nodded. “Listen, Chief Davara, I have no reason to doubt your credentials. I am only poking about because Helen is paying me to do so and, to be quite honest, it’s better than sitting around twiddling my thumbs.”

  “Island resorts are not your thing, Miss Parker?”

  There was a hint of his original good-humour sneaking through.

  “No, not really. As you know, I thought I’d be working on Abi’s book. It’s not really my style to sit around on beaches and drink cocktails all day, although I notice some people manage it beautifully.”

  “Yes, they do. So tell me, plis, what have you been doing with your time? What have you uncovered?”

  Roxy hesitated. It’s not that she didn’t want to work with the local police, it’s just that she was hesitant to start pointing the finger every which way, especially after last night’s incident.

  The expression on his face indicated that he wasn’t about to be put off easily, so she said, “Putting last night aside, for a moment, I’ve been thinking about Abi’s death and wondering who had means, motive and opportunity. And, well, there are quite a few suspects.”

  “Such as?”

  “For starters, there’s that new groundsman, Willie, who also works the boats.”

  “What about him?”

  “Not sure yet. All I know is Abi was suspicious of him. I overheard her tell Joshua that she thought he was up to no good. Perhaps you could ask Josh about him.”

  The Chief scratched his chin. “You think he had something to do with Mrs Lilton’s death?”

  “Maybe.”

  “That is where I think you are wrong. Willie Yamu has an alibi.”

  She groaned.

  “Sorry to disappoint you, Miss Parker, but we know that Mrs Lilton was last seen by Mary at 6.15am so must have been killed some time between about 6.20 and about 7.15—according to the coroner’s report. Well, I am sorry but Willie was diving with the Zimmermans at that exact time on Wednesday.”

  “Or so they tell you,” she said and he looked at her quizzically.

  “You have reason to believe the Zimmermans would lie to me?”

  She thought about this. “Not really, I’m clutching at straws.”

  She couldn’t help feeling disappointed. It would have been neat and tidy to pin this on the new worker, the same guy Abi clearly did not trust. She felt like she had landed back at square one. The Chief sensed her disappointment.

  “I am afraid this is not as simple as we would like. Did you know, all the locals have an alibi for that morning, except Maurice who was fishing? The rest of them shared breakfast together at the main fireplace at the village. Of course Mary was at the hotel dining room, preparing breakfast then.”

  “So, she could have followed Abi down to the track and been back at her post any time between 6.15 and when I walked in at 7am. Or Maurice could have put his fishing line down and dashed across the length of main beach and done it.”

  “Yes, this is true.”

  He did not seem convinced and Roxy wasn’t betting on it either. For starters, neither had a motive. In fact none of the locals did, it was in all their interest to keep Abi alive so she could sign Dormay over to them, not kill her before she had the chance.

  “What I don’t get is, why didn’t anyone spot Abi’s body at the beach before I did? Both Maurice and Popeye were at the hotel at the time, surely they must have passed her body to get there?”

  “No, no I have checked this, too, you see. Maurice passed down the track earlier than Abi and was fishing when it happened. He went straight from the
beach to the hotel kitchen with his catch. He did not return to the village in between. Popeye came to the hotel via the lookout track as he had stopped up there to check the pig traps. He does this twice a week. Unfortunately for Mrs Lilton, it seems no one used the village track between 6.20 and 7.15. The crucial time.”

  “Okay, so what about Joshua and Helen? What’s their alibi?”

  “I have their statements but they also have no substantial alibi. They were both alone during that crucial hour. Miss Lilton tells me she was asleep in bed, Joshua was doing some work around the hotel and managing the front desk.”

  “So we know for a fact that he was up and about.” She took a deep breath. “Do you think your nephew could do such a thing?”

  Davara shrugged. “I know this is why Helen is concerned. She thinks I will protect my kin. But to be honest, Miss Parker, I do not really know my nephew very well at all. His mother, Theresa, my sister, she was a good woman but very naïve. She got pregnant to a very bad man while she was working as a haus girl, and Abi heard of this and rescued her. Brought her out here to Dormay to work when Joshua was just a baby. I did not see much of Theresa or Joshua after that. He... he is mixed race, you know this?”

  “Yes, it’s pretty obvious.”

  “Well, what you may not know is that it is hard for these people because they do not really know where they belong. Some want to stay in the village, some want to live the life of a white man.”

  “Joshua wanted the white man’s life?”

  “Yes he did. This is his choice. I had no problem with this, but it would have been good to see more of him. We tried, my wife and I, to get him to come back to Beela, for traditional ceremonies, birthdays, this sort of thing. But he was not too keen. He always said he was too busy at Dormay.”

  Davara’s eyes were cloaked in sadness and his voice was barely a whisper.

  “This is his choice,” he said again, as though trying to convince himself. “We must respect this.”

  Then, he shook himself out of it and tapped at his pad. “Okay, Inspector Morse, we still have not talked about Mr Bermont and Mrs Thomas.”

  He paused and Roxy saw this as her chance to redeem herself.

  “I think I know what they were up to at that hour,” she said.

  “I, too, know about their overnight rendezvous, Miss Parker.”

  She stared at him surprised. “So the cat’s out of the bag? If you know, does that mean Wade knows?”

  “I have not spoken with Mr Thomas about his wife’s affair. It is not my business to do this, unless of course it impacts the investigation.”

  “But you have spoken to him about his early visit to the jetty the morning Abi died?”

  “He refutes the whole thing. Says it was not him, not his boat. He insists Maurice has got it wrong. In fact, he goes so far as to say that Maurice is framing him.”

  “Oh that’s stretching it.” She considered this for a moment. “So if Wade wasn’t over here peeking on Maya and Luc—and I’m not saying I believe his story for one second—then Wade can’t alibi them and they can’t alibi him?”

  “No, no. At this point, Maya and Luc have no substantial alibi. They tell me they were together overnight but they can not accurately account for their time between 6.20 and 7.15 on the morning in question.”

  Roxy thought about this. He was right of course. She had heard Maya return to her bedroom just before 6.30am but couldn’t swear on a stack of Bibles that the woman had stayed there. After all, Maya could easily have snuck back out while Roxy was in the shower. As for Luc? According to Maya he’d taken off in search of Wade’s boat, so he was up at that hour. As far as she could tell, this left them both open to suspicion.

  What if Abi had taken a different route that morning and had spotted Maya leaving Luc’s bungalow? What if she had chastised one or even both of them, and they had killed her in a rage? Then buried her body on the other side of the hotel, as far from Luc’s bungalow as they could manage, to divert suspicion from themselves?

  She shook her head a little irritably, releasing a trickle of sweat. It was such a stretch. The lovebirds already suspected Wade was lurking around. Would they really risk running into him—or anyone for that matter—with a corpse? Besides, everyone knew the staff and the Zimmermans were early risers. Only a madman or a fool would risk it. For all their foibles, Roxy doubted Maya or Luc fell into either of those categories. She suspected she was making it all a little more complicated than it needed to be. She brushed her arm across her brow and pushed her sweaty fringe away.

  “So that leaves Doc. Don’t tell me: he was also up and about but no one saw him and no one can prove he didn’t do it?”

  The Chief smiled. “Close. He was awake but he was still in his room, getting ready for breakfast when Joshua came and banged on his door, telling him about Mrs Lilton. He then went straight to the beach to check for a pulse.”

  “That’s when I saw him.” She groaned. “So many suspects, so few alibis.”

  She could feel the sweat sneaking through her cotton dress now and stood up abruptly and walked across to the railing hoping to catch a passing breeze from there. It was dead still and the temperature felt like it was soaring by the minute. Just then she heard an engine in the distance and glanced across at Davara.

  “That will be Doctor Spinks and Mr Thomas now,” he said.

  Less than ten minutes later, Wade came trudging up the front steps of the hotel, looking weary to the bone. His jacket was over one shoulder and his shirt was damp with sweat. He collapsed into a chair and reached for a refreshments menu, waving it at his face for a futile breeze.

  Davara asked, “Is Doc with you?”

  He waved one hand back towards the jetty. “Yeah, he’s still down at the jetty, God knows why.”

  He turned to Roxy. “Everyone hunky dory back here? How’s Maya?”

  “We’re all fine,” she told him. “You look half dead.”

  He sighed, stroking the grey stubble on his cheeks. “Not as bad as poor Helen. She’s had quite a night of it.”

  “And she’ll be okay?”

  “As far as we can tell. It was a bloody awful ride across, though. I don’t think I’ll ever get the stink of spew out of the galley. She threw up the whole way. It’s probably what saved her.”

  “Did she tell you anything?” asked the Chief, sitting forward and Wade shook his head.

  “Nope, she was still pretty out of it when I was with her and Doc reckons she won’t talk to him.” He glanced at Roxy. “You’re the only one she’ll speak with. God knows why.”

  “So I hear. When is she returning?”

  “Promised I’d fetch her later this arvo. She’s keen to get home.”

  “That’s quick.”

  “Too bloody quick but, well, she wants to get back to Dormay, to her guests. And to you.”

  Both men stared hard at Roxy as though she held all the answers and she felt an enormous burden pushing down on her now sunburned shoulders. She needed to get away.

  “I might go and see how Doc’s doing,” Roxy said, turning back to the Chief. “If that’s okay with you?”

  He nodded. “Plis, I think he could do with a friend right now. Just remember what I told you, Miss Parker. No secrets, okay?”

  She promised then stepped back inside the hotel to fetch some softdrinks before heading for the jetty.

  A seagull heralded Roxy’s arrival, screeching maniacally as she stepped out onto the dock. There was a very gentle breeze down here and she welcomed it as it slithered through her clothes and down her sweaty limbs. She stared at Wade’s motor boat, a slick looking machine painted white with a thick red stripe down the side and the name Gone Fishin’ scribbled across it.

  How original, she thought, squinting into the sun, trying to see a sign of life. A slight movement caught her eye further along the peer and she looked to where the yacht, the Helena, was secured. Doc was leaning out across the stern, his fisherman’s cap in place, his eyes peering out at
the water, and she stopped and watched him for a moment. He seemed younger from this angle, and faster on his feet as he turned and started darting up and down the deck, checking the mainsail and the jib, and assembling ropes. He looked like he was about to release the lines and take her out for a sail. But hadn’t he told her he was too old now for all that? Abi’s words came flooding back to her:

  ‘You can’t tie a good sailor down. Well, not while they can still hoist a sail.’

  That’s when the blinkers finally came off and Roxy saw Doctor Spinks for who he really was. Fergus Spinks was not just any old friend of Abi’s. He was the roguish sailor who stole her heart away. And she gasped at the revelation, and the fact that she had not seen it earlier.

  Doc turned and spotted her, then waved one hand, indicating that she should join him, so she did, letting him assist her up across the railing and onto the deck. It was a small vessel, a 25-footer, with a secured cabin and plush cushioning for guests to enjoy leisurely sails. She handed him a bottle.

  “Welcome aboard the Helena,” Doc said, guiding her to the bow where they both sat, their legs dangling over the side, sipping their drinks.

  “She’s a beauty,” Roxy said and he looked up at the mast and across the stern.

  “Yes, a true gem. She might be small, but she handles like a pro. With the spinnaker up she really flies.”

  “She’s yours isn’t she?”

  “Yes, I’ve had her for a good long while now.”

  “Are you taking her out?”

  “Oh no, just checking everything’s in shape. I just like to fossick about. It takes me back. To the good ole days.”

  Roxy took a sip of her drink and asked, “So how are you Doc, are you okay?”

  He brushed the stubble that was now carpeting his face, and she noticed his shirt—the same shirt he’d been wearing since the previous dinner—was stained with the remains of the night.

  “I’ll be fine, my dear. Just weary is all.”

  She took a deep breath. “And how’s your daughter? Helen?”

  He was just taking a sip of his Coke when she said it and he nearly choked, coughing and spluttering so Roxy slapped him a few times on the back. Eventually, he put his bottle aside and stared across at her, shaking his head.