Domino Island

by Desmond Bagley

  ‘Here, right where she’s lying now.’

  ‘And what were you doing down here at three in the morning?’

  ‘I’d been night fishing,’ said White. ‘Mr Salton didn’t mind – I asked his permission. He said it was all right so long as I got enough sleep to do my work. He said if I made a good catch I should give him some fish.’

  ‘How often did you go out?’

  ‘One night a week, maybe. Sometimes two.’

  ‘Which boat did you take?’

  ‘Most times I’d take the work boat,’ said White. ‘The twenty-footer next to the launch out there.’

  ‘What time did you go out on this occasion?’

  White reflected for a moment, then said, ‘About ten o’clock on the night of the ninth. I got back five hours later.’

  ‘At three o’clock on the morning of the tenth,’ said Hanna. ‘And you saw this boat here. Weren’t you surprised?’

  ‘Why should I be surprised?’ demanded White. ‘She was where she was meant to be.’

  ‘But Mr Salton had disappeared.’

  White shrugged. ‘I didn’t know that.’

  ‘All right,’ said Hanna. ‘Now, when did you find the boat had gone?’

  ‘An hour later,’ said White after a long pause.

  ‘You came back to the boathouse at four in the morning. Why?’

  ‘I was worried about the work boat. I couldn’t remember if I’d moored her properly so I came back to check. It was one of those things – you know, you leave your house and you can’t remember if you’ve turned off the oven so you go back and check. I cleaned the fish and had a beer and I came down to check the work boat before I went to bed.’

  ‘And what did you find?’

  White said, ‘Is this important?’

  ‘Very important,’ said Hanna.

  White swallowed. ‘I saw the dinghy in the lagoon, heading towards the pass in the reef.’

  ‘It was night time. Could you see it clearly?’

  ‘There was a moon,’ said White. ‘It was a good light.’

  ‘Could you see who was in it?’

  ‘A woman,’ said White. ‘She was sailed by a woman.’

  ‘White or black?’

  ‘Hard to tell. It was a fair way. But she had pale hair.’

  ‘So what did you do?’

  ‘Do?’ said White. ‘I did nothing.’

  Hanna stared at him. ‘Someone was sailing away in one of your employer’s boats and you did nothing. Isn’t that strange?’

  ‘What the hell!’ said White. ‘I thought it was Mrs Salton. She likes night sailing.’

  III

  ‘Like extracting teeth one by one,’ said Hanna. We stood by his car and roasted in the sun. White had been sent home under the guard of the patrolman until he could be taken into San Martin for further questioning. ‘I’ve got other things to do right now,’ said Hanna.

  ‘Such as questioning Mrs Salton?’

  ‘Maybe.’ He stared over the water at the island. ‘White is a damned fool with a misplaced sense of loyalty. He knew his evidence was important but he was trying to protect Mrs Salton.’

  ‘How do you suppose Hawke got wind of it?’

  Hanna shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Maybe White got drunk one night and opened his mouth a bit wide. There’s not much on this island that Hawke doesn’t know about. Sometimes I think his intelligence service is better than mine.’

  I nodded. ‘He knew I’d been shot,’ I said. ‘McKittrick didn’t.’

  ‘If I find the leak in my department, they’ll be fired so fast they’ll think it was from a cannon,’ said Hanna grimly. He leaned inside his car and came out with a large envelope. ‘This came for you.’

  It looked official and was of heavy and expensive cream laid stationery, addressed to me at the Royal Caribbean Hotel.

  ‘How did you get your hands on it?’ I asked.

  Hanna smiled. ‘That’s the kind of question you don’t ask a policeman. I just thought you might like to see it sooner rather than later.’

  I looked at the envelope. Embossed on the flap was a coat of arms. I had difficulty ripping it open because it seemed to be constructed on the lines of a bank vault. Hanna said, ‘You’ve been invited to a cocktail party.’

  I took the card from the envelope and found that it was so. The Honourable Walden P. Conyers, Prime Minister of Campanilla, took pleasure in requesting the attendance of Mr William Kemp at a reception at Government House, 5 p.m. to 7 p.m. that very evening, dress informal.

  I turned suspiciously to Hanna. ‘You must have X-ray eyes. How did you know what was in here?’

  ‘I’ve got one, too,’ he said. ‘Interesting, isn’t it?’

  I looked down at my suit. I had been wearing it continuously since I had arrived on Campanilla and it was beginning to show the strain. It looked grubby and there were dark sweat stains under the arms. ‘I don’t know how far your protocol takes informality,’ I said. ‘But this is the only lightweight suit I have, and I’d boil to death in my English suit.’

  Hanna gave me a measuring look, like an undertaker at a resident in an old people’s home. ‘I’ve just got a couple of suits back from the cleaners,’ he said. ‘I’d say you’re about my size. You can come back with me and have a fitting if you like.’

  ‘That’s very accommodating of you,’ I said.

  He smiled warmly and said, ‘I think we’ll leave Mrs Salton for tomorrow. White has been salted away so he can’t talk to anyone.’ He checked his watch. ‘We just have time to go home and change before the party.’

  ‘It’s as late as that? I didn’t have lunch – I forgot.’

  ‘I didn’t either,’ he said. ‘But it wasn’t for want of remembering. My wife will fix us something.’ He tapped the card I still held in my hand. ‘I think the Honourable Walden P. Conyers is about to let the boom down on you, Mr Kemp. Heavy pressure.’

  ‘Don’t worry about me,’ I said. ‘But if Commissioner Barstow gives you a direct order to drop this case, what will you do?’

  ‘I don’t know, not right now. But I will know the moment he gives that order.’

  I turned it over in my mind as we got into the car. If anybody knew where the political bodies were buried, it would be the head of the political police. But perhaps Barstow would be afraid of tangling too directly with Hanna. I hoped so.

  IV

  I felt cleaner and less sticky when we got to Government House. Hanna had a charming wife and three delightful children, all of whom climbed over him as soon as we arrived. Mrs Hanna came out of the scrimmage and apologised cheerfully: ‘It’s just that we don’t see enough of him, Mr Kemp.’

  I grinned. ‘I think I may be seeing too much of your husband.’

  The house was bright and well furnished but the careful eye could see the evidence of making-do: the neatly mended upholstery of a chair, the small patch in the tablecloth, the place where a piece had been let into a carpet. If a superintendent of police had to make do and mend, what chance was there for a working-class man? What McKittrick had said was brought home forcibly.

  I showered and changed into one of Hanna’s suits, which fitted as though made to measure, and Mrs Hanna provided a light snack. Then we went on our way and arrived at Government House dead on time.

  The imposing white stone building overlooked Fleming Square, at the heart of San Martin’s administrative quarter, and the district was buzzing with cars and people, presumably heading for the same cocktail party as we were. Hanna parked facing the square and said, ‘This is going to be interesting. That’s one of Salton’s cars.’ He nodded towards a Cadillac.

  We went inside to find cut-glass chandeliers and marble walls. As we climbed a wide staircase to the first floor, Hanna caught my eye and said sardonically, ‘Built to impress the natives in colonial times. The Governor used to live here.’

  The reception was held in a large mirrored ballroom along the front of the building, oppressively heavy with ornate gilding and con
voluted plasterwork on the ceiling. There was the usual hum of voices from the early minutes of a cocktail party. As time went on and more drinks were consumed, the noise would become louder until reasonable conversation was impossible. All over the world these parties are the same: the drinks are too warm or, if you put ice in them, they become too dilute; the faces become dissociated from the hurried given names; the canapés curl at the edges because of the heat and, in the end, all that are left are the few regular drunks who have to be tactfully eased out.

  I handed my card to a flunkey in knee-breeches, who bellowed, ‘Mr William Kemp.’

  No one seemed to take much notice so I went in. A man stepped forward with his hand outstretched and a deep voice said, ‘Glad you could come, Mr Kemp.’

  I took the offered hand and looked into the charismatic face. ‘It was kind of you to invite me, Mr Prime Minister.’

  ‘Let me introduce you to my wife,’ said Conyers. ‘Darling, this is Mr Kemp from London. You may remember that he’s employed by Lord Hosmer.’

  As I shook hands with the middle-aged woman in the Balmain gown, I reflected that Conyers had put me firmly into place. Employed by Lord Hosmer. God bless Lord Hosmer and his relations and keep us in our proper stations.

  Mrs Conyers mumbled something I couldn’t hear so I smiled and passed on.

  I captured a scotch from a passing tray-carrier and turned to look for Hanna, but he wasn’t there and neither had the flunkey boomed his name. I suspected that the tactician in him had decided we should not make our entrance together. Guilt by association is a political disease he didn’t care to catch.

  Drink in hand, I surveyed the throng. Everyone looked prosperous and well fed, and from the names of the arriving guests that were bawled from the door, this seemed to be a meeting of the ruling class with an admixture of influential foreigners. Subtle lapel badges on various guests revealed the national flags of the United States and other countries sharing diplomatic ties with Campanilla, while a thick Russian accent near me betrayed a broad-cheeked Soviet, apparently part of a visiting trade contingent. Elsewhere there seemed to be dignitaries, civic worthies and a few high-ranking army and police officers, including one I assumed from his uniform to be Commissioner Barstow. I sipped my drink and wondered why I was there.

  Knee-breeches shouted, ‘Mr Henry Roker.’ There was a crowd between me and the reception line at the door so I couldn’t immediately see him, but my brain cells began tingling when the next call came: ‘Lord Hosmer.’

  A voice behind me said, ‘Well, Bill, I didn’t expect to see you here.’

  I turned and found Negrini. ‘Hello, Gerry.’

  ‘Are you here by invitation?’ His voice expressed incredulity.

  ‘I haven’t got leprosy,’ I said.

  ‘You’ve got the social equivalent, from what I hear,’ he said. ‘You are not too popular with Conyers.’

  ‘Maybe I’ve been invited to be the principal guest at a lynching.’ Roker and Hosmer strolled by, their heads close together. They were talking in short, jerky sentences and both faces were unsmiling. I indicated Roker. ‘That’s the chap I asked you to check on.’

  ‘Roker,’ said Negrini. ‘There’s a kind of Chamber of Commerce – not the official one but a sort of inner club of the big boys. Very private and by invitation only. Roker seems to be a trouble-shooter and hatchet man. Who’s the other guy?’

  ‘Lord Hosmer, my employer – for a short while. He’s going to fire me.’

  ‘Going to fire you!’ Negrini was baffled. ‘Why the hell doesn’t he do it now?’

  ‘I’ve got him by the balls,’ I said. ‘But I can’t hang on long. Besides, I was present when someone reamed him out. He’s not going to forget that.’

  ‘You lead an interesting life,’ said Negrini.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ I asked. ‘You told me Conyers is going to chase you off the island after the election. You’re not too popular, either.’

  He grinned. ‘It’s the old political game of pretending we’re all gentlemen. Besides, it’s easier to stab a man when you’re shaking his hand.’

  I looked across the room and saw Hanna talking to the uniform I’d seen earlier. ‘Who is that with Hanna?’

  ‘His boss, Commissioner Barstow.’ He laughed. ‘Do you see Jackson just behind them trying to eavesdrop?’ He tapped me on the arm. ‘What the hell is going on at El Cerco? Jill Salton tells me that Hanna has arrested someone from the estate.’

  ‘Not arrested,’ I said. ‘Just held for questioning. When did she tell you that?’

  ‘About five minutes ago.’

  ‘She’s here then?’

  Negrini nodded across the room. ‘Over in the far corner.’

  ‘I’ll see you later,’ I said, and moved off through the crowd. It seemed as though the gang was all here and they must have been assembled for a reason. Any man who gets to become Prime Minister is no fool, and I wondered what was in Conyers’s mind.

  Jill was talking to a short, balding guest but she saw me coming, excused herself and came to meet me. She wasted no time. ‘What does Hanna think he’s doing?’ she demanded in a low voice. ‘Why has he arrested Raymond White?’

  ‘He hasn’t,’ I said. ‘White is helping the police with their inquiries.’

  ‘You know damned well that’s a newspaper euphemism,’ she said.

  ‘But it’s true this time. Barstow blundered when he went to El Cerco. He neglected to question White. Hanna is just doing a follow-up.’

  ‘What has White been saying?’

  I shook my head. ‘I can’t tell you that, Jill. Why don’t you ask Hanna?’ I turned my head and indicated him. ‘He’s over there talking to Barstow.’

  ‘I might do that,’ she said.

  ‘Actually, don’t. Not yet, anyway. Can I suggest you refrain from talking to Hanna unless you’ve got Stern there? You might need him.’

  For a moment she was speechless, then she recovered her breath. ‘You mean to say that he really suspects me?’

  ‘White could be potentially damaging,’ I said soberly. ‘Don’t talk to Hanna without Stern present. It’s as bad as that.’

  ‘For God’s sake! What did Raymond say?’

  I mentally tossed a coin. Should I tell her or not? I was getting on well with Hanna and I didn’t want to jeopardise that relationship. On the other hand, I didn’t think Jill Salton had killed her husband. But that was a private and personal opinion, which could possibly be wrong.

  I was saved from answering by no less a personage than the Honourable Walden P. Conyers, Prime Minister of Campanilla. As he approached, all the danger signals went up because, hanging on his arm, was Leotta Tomsson.

  ‘Good evening, Mr Kemp, Mrs Salton. I trust you are enjoying yourselves.’

  I stared at Leotta, who looked back at me with a blank face. ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘It’s a good party.’

  ‘But your glass is empty,’ said Conyers. He snapped his fingers and a waiter dashed up.

  I took a fresh drink and adjusted my position slightly so I could see Hanna. For the first time since I’d met him, he didn’t have that deceptive sleepy look. He was angry. He regarded Leotta Tomsson with wide eyes and looked mad enough to bite a snake, then he turned to Barstow and snapped out a curt phrase. Barstow appeared to respond soothingly and put his hand on Hanna’s arm. Hanna shook it off with a distasteful gesture and again said something short and bitter. It must have been bitter because Barstow began to get angry too.

  I switched my attention back to Conyers. ‘Mrs Salton,’ he said. ‘I don’t think you’ve met Miss Tomsson. I believe she was a very old friend of your husband’s.’

  Leotta Tomsson’s face was still as blank as if she’d been drugged, but Jill Salton had gone white, and pink spots burned in her cheeks. There was going to be an almighty explosion if someone didn’t do something quickly and the only someone around was me, because Conyers was clearly relishing the situation.

  Deliberately I tilted my glass a
nd poured the entire contents down the front of Jill’s dress. She let out an involuntary squeak as the ice-cold drink hit her stomach. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. How clumsy of me.’ I flipped a handkerchief from my pocket and dabbed ineffectually at her. She shrank away from my hand and slipped on a piece of ice, and the only reason she didn’t go down was because I grabbed her arm and kept her upright. In another age I could have earned a living with Mack Sennett.

  Jill looked down at her dress and gave me a cold look. ‘Excuse me,’ she said to Conyers. ‘I must sort this out.’ She walked away quickly in the direction of the door.

  I grinned weakly at Conyers. ‘Now I do need another drink.’

  ‘Of course, Mr Kemp.’ His voice was affable but his face was hard. ‘I understand you’re already acquainted with Miss Tomsson.’

  ‘We’ve met,’ I said. ‘Once.’

  ‘Then perhaps you will entertain her for a few minutes.’ He inclined his head courteously and walked away, abandoning Leotta, who had served her purpose.

  A waiter shoved a tray under my nose. I waved him away and said to Leotta, ‘Just what the hell do you think you’re doing here?’

  ‘I didn’t want to come,’ she said. ‘They brought me.’

  ‘Who did?’

  ‘The police. Commissioner Barstow.’

  Hanna was at my elbow. I turned to him and said, ‘You ought to keep those files of yours in a vault. What the devil does Barstow think he’s doing?’

  ‘He’s playing politics,’ said Hanna tiredly. ‘You’d better go home, Miss Tomsson.’

  ‘What about Mr Barstow?’

  ‘He won’t trouble you now.’

  Leotta hesitated. ‘I’m sorry if I caused trouble. I didn’t know I was going to meet Mrs Salton. I wouldn’t want to cause her any hurt.’

  Hanna sighed. ‘The damage has been done.’

  ‘Maybe if I talked to her …’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘Keep away from Mrs Salton. You won’t do any good and you might do more harm.’ I turned my head and saw Jackson threading his way through the crowd. ‘And for Christ’s sake, don’t talk to the press.’ Hosmer might have gagged Jackson but I didn’t know how effective the gag was.