Before Richard could answer, there was the thump of footsteps on the verandah and everyone turned to see Fidel enter the station, his hands holding a manila file full of statements.
He was hot and he was very, very bothered.
‘Ah, Fidel. How were the other hotel guests?’
Fidel dumped the notes onto his desk before responding.
‘Confused. Panicked. Shocked. And all I got from them was a whole heap of nothing.’
‘Well, let’s see about that.’
‘I’m telling you, sir, I spoke to thirty-seven different guests and they’re all saying the same thing. Aslan was kind, quiet—a “man of peace” a few of them said.’ Fidel spread out his notes on his desk and read out a few choice quotations. ‘‘‘He was the person I aspire to be.” “He’s the reason I come to this Retreat year after year.” “He had a soul of pure gold.” I’m telling you, sir, they all think he was some kind of a saint.’
‘Then how come he ended up getting knifed to death?’
‘Not one of them has the first idea. But a couple of people did say something interesting.’
‘Oh?’
‘They said the only person at The Retreat who didn’t seem to like Aslan was Dominic, the handyman. Dominic would apparently make comments. He thought Aslan didn’t live in the real world.’
‘Which would be interesting,’ Richard said, ‘except for the fact that he wasn’t in the Meditation Space when the murder was carried out, so I don’t think we can consider him a suspect. Did you get anything that suggested that anyone inside the locked room with the victim at the time of the murder had a grievance with him at all?’
‘I’m sorry, sir. I got nothing like that.’
‘Then what about the argument? Did any of the guests hear a man shouting at Aslan in his office at 6pm the night before?’
‘And nor could I find anyone who heard any kind of argument at 6pm yesterday—either in Aslan’s office or anywhere else.’
‘And is that likely?’
‘How do you mean?’
‘That the only person in the whole hotel who heard a man shouting “You’re not going to get away with it” to Aslan was Saskia Filbee?’
Fidel thought for a moment. ‘I don’t know. It was pretty hot yesterday, most people would have been outside at that sort of time, I reckon.’
Richard considered this a moment before continuing. ‘Then what did the hotel guests have to say about Julia Higgins?’
Fidel started checking through his notes again as he said, ‘And that’s just as much of a dead end, sir. I couldn’t find anyone who had a bad word to say about her. She helps out in the office and she’s always polite. Cheerful, that’s a word a few people used. As for her relationship with Aslan, everyone said she hero-worshipped him. I couldn’t find a single person who believed for a second that she could be our killer.’
Not for the first time, Richard felt as though he were looking at the case the wrong way round. After all, why would a woman no one had a bad word to say about, kill someone who, by all accounts, she adored? And why would she do it inside a house made of paper? And in broad daylight? In front of four other potential witnesses? And, having killed a man everyone said she hero-worshipped, why would she then confess to the murder—but then fail to provide the police with any of her means, motive or opportunity?
Well, Richard mused to himself, there was one way to find out. Julia was currently in their police cells. He could ask her.
‘Very well,’ he said. ‘Dwayne and Fidel, I want you to finish processing the evidence. And Fidel, I want you dusting the murder weapon for fingerprints, of course, but first I want you to lift whatever prints you can find on the drawing pin I asked you to bag at the scene.’
Fidel looked at his boss. ‘You want me to lift whatever prints I can find on the drawing pin I found on the floor of the Meditation Space?’
‘That’s right,’ Richard said, a little irked. Hadn’t he made himself clear? ‘Whatever prints you can lift from the drawing pin.’
‘And you want me to do that before I start processing the actual weapon that was used to kill the victim?’
‘Yes. I said. As for you and me, Camille, I want to have another chat with our killer. And this time I want her to tell us why she killed Aslan Kennedy and how she smuggled a knife into the murder room without anyone seeing.’
Richard led through the bead curtain into the cells at the back of the station. This was his least favourite place on the whole island—which, whenever Richard thought about it, was really saying something. There were just two steelbarred rooms, an iron bed in each, a high strip of window above them both, and ancient paint that was peeling from the wall, exposing the crumbling bricks underneath.
Richard and Camille found Julia with her eyes closed and sitting in a lotus position on the floor of the first cell. Richard could see that she was now far more sensibly dressed—although he found himself musing that he’d personally not choose to go to prison wearing cut-off jeans and a tight T-shirt in bright lime green promoting hashish, but he supposed it was each to his own.
Julia opened her eyes as the police approached.
‘What have I done?’ she asked, so grief-stricken that neither Richard nor Camille said anything for a moment.
‘You know,’ Julia said, ‘I’ve been trying to put myself into a trance and go back in time.’
‘You have?’ Richard asked, already pre-emptively weary. This was what he found so tiresome about the New Age movement: they seemed to use the most cumbersome methods to reveal things that were actually already known. Like trying to go into a trance when a normal person would just use their memory. Or inventing ley lines to explain the mystery of Glastonbury Tor, when really it was just a hill in a surprising place. As for Stonehenge, Richard had always felt that the guy who’d commissioned it had probably only wanted a nice side table, but had made the mistake of asking a bunch of druids with too much time on their hands to do it.
Correctly interpreting her boss’s dismissive look, Camille tried to move the conversation on. She asked Julia, ‘And have you been able to access your memories?’
Julia looked at the police. ‘Not consciously.’
‘Not consciously?’ Richard asked, exasperated.
‘But I could access them subconsciously, I’m sure of it. If I could just get Dominic’s help.’
Richard’s antennae twitched. For a man who wasn’t a suspect, Dominic’s name was appearing a little too often in the investigation for his liking.
‘You mean The Retreat’s handyman?’
‘That’s right. He’s a wonder.’
‘Well, we can both agree about that, he’s certainly a wonder. But this case is peculiar enough as it is without bringing in a handyman to extract a confession.’
Julia smiled slowly. ‘But he’s not a handyman. He’s a Seer.’
‘A Seer?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Please could you tell me what a Seer is.’
‘He can see things.’
Richard took a deep breath and waited for the surge of irritation to wash away.
It didn’t, so Camille stepped in. ‘And what sorts of things can he see?’ she asked.
‘The future of course. But he can also see the past.’
‘And how does he do that?’
‘Well, in this case, he’d put me into a trance state. You see, he used to be The Retreat’s hypnotherapist.’
‘Used to be?’ Camille asked.
‘That’s right. He stopped doing that just after I arrived.’
Richard and Camille shared a glance.
‘Is that why Dominic and Aslan have been arguing?’
Julia was puzzled. ‘You know about that?’
‘Why don’t you tell us?’ Richard said, probing.
Julia smiled sadly. ‘It’s hard to talk about without making it sound worse than it is, but they weren’t ever going to get on. You see, Dominic’s a Capricorn and Aslan’s a Libran,’ Ju
lia said as if that explained everything. ‘And I think Aslan felt that Dominic was taking advantage of the guests in his hypnotherapy sessions. Not that he was. Dominic’s hypnotised me often enough. So I know how gentle and supportive he is. He doesn’t take advantage of anyone. But Aslan told Dominic he didn’t want him offering any more hypnotherapy sessions. Dominic was furious, but there wasn’t much he could do. The hotel belongs to Aslan and Rianka. But here’s the thing, Aslan said Dominic could stay on as the hotel’s handyman. That’s the sort of guy Aslan was. He still offered Dominic a job even though they’d argued so badly.’
‘And Dominic took it?’ Richard said, surprised.
‘It allowed him to stay on the island,’ Julia said.
‘I see,’ Richard said, even though he couldn’t.
‘But the thing is, you have to believe me, Dominic is amazing at getting people to remember memories they’ve buried because they find them too upsetting. And if you let him hypnotise me, I bet I’ll be able to tell you how I got the knife into the Meditation Space. And why I … did what I did,’ Julia finished with a gulp.
‘Unfortunately,’ Richard said, ‘that would be totally unethical. So why don’t we just leave you here for a bit longer, and when you remember anything that might help us, you just call out. We’re only next door.’
Sensing that Camille was disappointed with this ruling, Richard returned to the main office, calling out to Fidel as he entered through the bead curtains.
‘So have you dusted the drawing pin?’
Fidel looked up from his desk in surprise.
‘Yes, sir, I have.’
‘And what did you find?’
‘Well, sir, I was only able to dust the flat bit you press down on with your thumb.’
‘Of course. But is there a fingerprint there?’
‘No, sir. There’s no print on it, it’s entirely clear.’
‘Now that is interesting,’ Richard said, excitedly.
‘Yes, sir,’ Fidel said, baffled by his boss’s sudden enthusiasm.
‘But doesn’t that just mean it’s never been used?’ Dwayne asked.
‘And that’s where you’d be wrong,’ Richard said as he started writing on the board.
‘I would?’ Dwayne asked, puzzled.
‘Yes, because I think that drawing pin was part of the killer’s plans—and they then wiped it clean of prints once it was used.’
Richard wrote up this latest development on the whiteboard, and then he took a step back to look at his handiwork.
The Murder
Five guests go for a swim
Paul hands out robes
Aslan prepares the tea
5 guests + Aslan go into Meditation
Space
Aslan locks it down from inside
Drink tea—all cups turned over
10-15 minute window for murder,
(8.00-8.10/8.15)
Right handed killer?
Investigation / Leads
How did the knife get into the room?
Was the tea drugged?
WHY KILL IN PAPER HOUSE?
WHY A DRAWING PIN? Who wiped it of prints?
Who was in Aslan’s office @6pm the night before shouting ‘You’re not going to get away with it’?
Outside the Meditation Space
Rianka Kennedy
Wife
Has no idea who’d want Aslan dead
Dominic De Vere
Ex-hypnotherapist. Now handyman
Sacked by Aslan
Argued with Aslan
Inside the Meditation Space
Aslan Kennedy
Victim
Everyone says he’s nice
Julia Higgins
Worked at The Retreat last 6 months
Confessed to murder
But NO MEANS: where did she get the knife from?
NO OPPORTUNITY: how did she get the knife to the room?
NO MOTIVE: why kill Aslan?
PLUS: left-handed, but the killer was right-handed?
Ann Sellars
Housewife
Married to Paul
Paul Sellars
Handed out the white robes
Pharmacist
Saskia Filbee
Single, 45 yrs old
Here on her own. Says she arrived night before
Heard argument in office night before—at about 6pm—a man, but couldn’t identify him
Ben Jenkins
Property Developer. Portugal. Brush with authorities before?
‘Okay, Dwayne,’ Richard eventually said. ‘I want background checks on our suspects. One of the five people locked inside the Meditation Space with Aslan Kennedy killed him. Who was it? And why?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘As for you, Fidel, I want you trying to lift whatever fingerprints you can from the murder weapon. And if you can’t get any admissible prints from the handle, at least see if you can tell if it was wielded left-handed or right-handed.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Which leaves you and me, sir,’ Camille said, ‘and I think we should go back to The Retreat.’
‘You do?’ Richard asked, already suspicious of his subordinate’s motives. ‘And why exactly is that?’
‘Well, sir,’ Camille said, her eyes shining with innocence, ‘you said it yourself. There’s something about the Meditation Space that meant Aslan had to be killed in there and nowhere else. I think we need to inspect it again.’
Richard took a step towards Camille and drew himself up to his full height.
‘And this has got nothing to do with finding Dominic so we can ask him to put Julia into a hypnotic trance, has it?’
Camille was shocked by the suggestion. ‘Of course not, sir. You’ve already said that would be unethical. But there’s also the matter of the murder weapon to consider. Because if Julia didn’t have the carving knife about her person when she went into the room, it must have already been hidden in the Meditation Space beforehand. I think we need to work out how Julia got the carving knife into the murder room.’
Richard looked at Camille a very long moment.
‘And you promise that this has got nothing to do with asking Dominic to put Julia into a trance?’
‘Of course not, sir,’ Camille said, shocked by the suggestion.
‘Very good,’ he said. ‘Then I think you’re right. We should go back to The Retreat.’
Satisfied that he’d clipped Camille’s wings for once, Richard went off to get his briefcase. But what he didn’t see was the sly grin and slow wink that Camille gave Dwayne and Fidel the moment her boss’s back was turned.
Getting Dominic to put Julia into a trance was precisely why Camille wanted to go to The Retreat.
Chapter Four
Richard didn’t know when exactly it had been established that Camille would do all of the driving when they were in the police jeep. It’s not that he disliked her driving—Camille drove very well, if a little fast for Richard’s liking—but he didn’t like ceding control over any aspect of his life, and the jeep was no exception. In particular, he didn’t like how Camille would agree to drive him to one destination, and then drive him to a different one entirely.
For example, her mother Catherine’s beachside bar—which is where Richard now found himself sitting at a rickety table, being served a cup of tea by Camille’s entirely baffling mother, Catherine. But then, if Richard didn’t understand Camille, he found her mother off-the-scale impossible to comprehend. As far as Richard could tell, she only ever spoke in riddles. For example, she’d tell Richard he’d only find the answers he was looking for when he stopped looking. Which just irritated Richard; he wasn’t looking for answers. Or—on another occasion—that he wouldn’t be able to start running until he learnt how to stand still. Generally, Richard just nodded along as politely as he could to whatever she was talking about and then tried to change the subject to the weather. That was a much safer area for discussion. You knew where you were with the weather
.
On this occasion, though, Camille had stopped off at her mother’s bar because she knew that Catherine had holidayed at The Retreat a number of times and knew Aslan well.
Wearing a floor-length orange dress, big silver hooped earrings and with her hair tied up in a purple silk scarf, Catherine swished over and joined them both at their rickety table on the bar’s little verandah that overlooked the bay.
‘How’s your tea?’ Catherine asked silkily as she sat down.
This was an area of conversation where Richard felt entirely on safe ground. Catherine, despite being French, made a cracking cup of tea.
‘Perfect, thank you.’
Catherine smiled in pleasure. ‘So. How can I help you both?’
‘Well, Maman,’ Camille said, ‘have you heard about the murder?’
‘Of course. Poor Aslan. I liked him very much.’
‘Camille said you knew him,’ Richard said.
‘Of course. A little.’
Catherine had run her bar for years. There weren’t many people on the island she didn’t know.
‘Then can you tell us a bit about him?’ her daughter asked.
Catherine was happy to. According to her, Rianka had come to the island a couple of decades before and had set up The Retreat on her own. In fact, as far as Catherine was concerned, Rianka was an inspiration to all single women trying to run their own business. But Catherine then explained that it was only when Rianka met and fell in love with Aslan that the business really took off. It was such a sweet romance as well. Catherine remembered it well.
‘They were both in their forties, but found love,’ she said with an encouraging smile that Richard noted seemed to be for his benefit. Why was Catherine looking at him like that?
Catherine sighed at Richard’s lack of comprehension, and carried on with her story. It was Aslan who introduced a spiritual side to what they were doing at The Retreat. Before then, it had just been a normal spa hotel. But Aslan’s interest in mysticism transformed the place. What’s more, the way Catherine explained it, Rianka and Aslan were a formidable team. Rianka was the brains behind the business; the person who did the books and looked after the money.
A Meditation on Murder Page 6
