Deadly Deceit: Jess Turner in the Caribbean (Diplomatic Crime Book 2)

by Jean Harrod

  Immediately his eyes became wary. “The accident report will tell us everything,” he said, in a voice that brooked no more questions.

  Why was he being so cagey? She was sure he knew more than he was telling her. “I’m going to relay my initial findings to London when I get back,” she said in a businesslike voice. “And I’d like a copy of the accident report please to send them.” She paused. “I’d like to see the Governor’s car too.”

  He nodded. “You will have a copy of the accident report as soon as it’s ready,” he said. “The Governor’s Land Rover is in the Government Garage, which is close to the Governor’s Office.”

  She nodded. “I’ll take a look at it later.”

  “Of course.”

  Jess looked along the road and saw the lighthouse standing on top of the Ridge. What had the Governor been doing up there, she wondered? “Can we go up to the lighthouse while we’re here, if it’s no trouble?”

  He nodded and walked back to his Land Rover.

  Jess followed and got in beside him.

  The driver proceeded to the top of the Ridge, and drew up outside a low picket fence that surrounded the lighthouse.

  Jess got out quickly, and for the first time felt a strong breeze in her face. She took some gulps of air, relieved to be able to finally breathe. She walked through a small gate in the fence, and headed for the lighthouse. It was an impressive structure, tall and solid. According to a plaque embedded in the wall, it was made of cast iron and built by the British. She climbed the few steps to the door. A sign said it was open to the public every day, except there was no-one around and the door was locked when she tried it. She went back down the steps, and across the grass to the edge of the headland.

  An amazing sight greeted her. High, foamy breakers crashed onto the reef out to sea. Below she could see only rocks and turbulent waves. Further along the headland, there was a cliff path, and a track leading down to a small beach.

  The Police Commissioner joined her, and stood staring out to the reef.

  “Is that where those two sloops went down?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Did they all die out there?”

  He gave her a straight look. “They’ve been dying out there for centuries, Miss Turner. Many ships have run aground on the north-west reef.”

  They fell silent.

  His mobile rang. He looked to see who the caller was, then walked away to answer it.

  Glad he’d gone, Jess went back to the lighthouse and sat down on the steps in the shade. She didn’t know what to make of the Police Commissioner. He was polite and respectful, yet guarded. She felt he was answering all her questions honestly, but somehow not telling her the truth. She sensed strong emotions bubbling under that quiet exterior too. It wasn’t going to be easy to get to know Dexter Robinson.

  As she leant against the locked door, Jess spotted something on the grass through a gap in the steps. It looked like a folded piece of paper. Curious, she leaned sideways, pushed her arm under the steps and picked it up.

  Unfolding the paper, she smoothed it out. The writing was distinctive, with firm, long strokes, in black ink. Water had blotched some of it, but she started reading ...

  My Darling,

  Words cannot describe how much I love you and the children, and how truly sorry I am. I’ve been a fool. I’ve betrayed you and everything I hold most dear.

  The next bit was blotched. Then it went on.

  I have to explain in a letter because I don’t know when I will see you again. I hope that one day you will be able to forgive me...

  Jess turned the paper over but there was nothing on the other side and no signature. The letter was unfinished.

  She read it again. I’ve been a fool. I’ve betrayed you and everything I hold most dear... I don’t know when I will see you again. Those words stood out. It was some kind of confession. To a lover maybe?

  When she heard the Police Commissioner’s quick footsteps coming back, and for a reason she would not have been able to explain, she folded the letter back up and slipped it into her pocket.

  He came up to her, arms rigid by his sides. But it was his face that told her something was seriously wrong.

  “We need to go back, urgently,” he said.

  “Why? What’s happened?”

  “There’s been another... death.”

  Her breath caught in her throat. “Who?”

  “She was found hanging in the garage this morning... Mrs Pearson!”

  It took Jess a moment to figure out who he was talking about. “Clement Pearson’s wife?” she asked, incredulously.

  “Yes.”

  “Dear God! Has she committed suicide too?”

  “No.” As he shook his head, the colour seemed to drain from his lips. “She was found hanging by her feet, with her throat cut.”

  11

  Back in the office, Jess sat shell-shocked at David’s cluttered desk, trying to concentrate on his handover notes. It was an odd constitutional set-up on these islands. The British Government – represented by the Governor – retained responsibility for foreign affairs, security, defence, policing and financial regulation. All other internal policies had been devolved to local Ministers, who had their own Parliament to discuss them. Bizarrely, the Governor wasn’t allowed to set foot in Parliament while it was in session, yet he chaired the Cabinet of Ministers that agreed all these internal policies anyway. Who’d thought up that arrangement, she wondered?

  She rubbed her eyes. The atmosphere was so stuffy she could scarcely breathe. The air conditioner wasn’t working; and the windows had been painted shut by the decorators. Not only that, they were covered with security grilles and the glass was frosted. For all she could see out, she could have been sitting in the Foreign Office in London, with the central heating on full blast.

  She got up and opened the connecting door to let in some cool air from the comfortable open plan office the three local administrators shared. She noticed how quiet they were. Mrs Pearson’s brutal murder, coming straight after the Governor’s accident, had them totally shocked. Jess wondered whether to let them go home early, but that was really a decision for Alvita. They thought of her as their boss.

  Alvita was a bit of an enigma. She hovered around the office, watching everyone and listening. Whenever there was a rustle of stockings, or a creaky leather shoe, Alvita was close by. She was like a haunting presence, and Jess didn’t know yet if she was a good or malevolent spirit.

  Jess took a sip of coffee and a bite of the ham sandwich Sally had brought in for her. It was meant as a peace offering, she knew that. Talk about a personality shift. Today, Sally was smart and efficient, and nothing like the woman at the party last night. Jess understood now why the Governor put up with Sally’s occasional bad behaviour, but she wouldn’t tolerate it.

  Sally popped her head round the door. “Can I have a word?”

  Jess nodded.

  Sally came in, pushed the door to, and sat down. “Mrs Pearson’s murder has really upset all the staff.”

  Jess put the handover notes down. “I know, it’s an awful shock.”

  “Hung by her feet, with her throat cut. Who would do something like that?” Sally paused. “What did the Police Commissioner say?”

  “Very little. He’d only just found out himself. I asked him to ring with more information as soon as he could.” She hesitated. “Tell me, Sally, has anything like this ever happened here before?”

  Sally stared at her. “Why? Do you think there might be a serial killer out there?”

  “No,” Jess said, quickly. “I wasn’t thinking that. I just wondered if there was anything in the history of these islands that might tell us why she was killed in that way.” She paused. “Did you know Mrs Pearson?”

  “I knew who she was. I saw her and her husband around a lot. But I wouldn’t say I knew either of them.” Sally paused. “The Governor did though. He was really upset when Clement committed suicide. Never seen him so upset.�
��

  “Really?” That interested Jess. “What sort of a man was Clement? I mean, was he well liked on the island? Well respected?”

  Sally nodded. “The Governor always said Clement was one of the good guys.”

  “What did he mean by that?”

  Sally shrugged. “Well, you told me about the way Roger Pearson behaved towards that little girl in the terminal. His uncle Clement would never have done that.”

  “Is that how Clement and Roger were related, uncle and nephew.”

  “Yes. The Pearsons are a prominent local family.” Sally leant forward. “What does it all mean, Jess? First Clement commits suicide, then his wife is butchered like an animal. What did she do to deserve that?”

  Jess shook her head, and they fell silent.

  Hearing the rustle of stockings, Jess got up quickly and poked her head out of the door in time to see Alvita disappearing round the corner. She’d obviously been listening outside. Jess frowned and shut the door. “I need to report Mrs Pearson’s murder to London,” she said, “but I’d better wait for the Police Commissioner to ring first in case he has more details.” She paused. “What time is it?”

  Sally checked her watch. “3.25.” She paused. “Oh, I forgot to tell you, Jess, your Simon phoned while you were out.”

  Jess looked at her.

  “He seemed a bit put out that you hadn’t phoned him.”

  “I did phone, last night. I left a message on the machine.” Jess frowned. “Did you explain about the communications, or rather lack of them, down here?”

  “Yes,” Sally said. “I’ve got a new mobile for you too. It’s open to international roaming so you’ll be able to call Simon any time. And I’ve sorted out your Foreign Office email account, so you can log onto David’s computer and pick up your emails.”

  “Hallelujah!”

  “Oh and I’ve put some classified electronic telegrams from London on the Governor’s desk. Better read them in there.”

  Jess knew the locals weren’t allowed to see the classified e-grams and reports, nor did they have access to a small confidential area in the building. That must cause some resentment, she thought. “Have you typed up that statement for the local media about Mrs Pearson’s death?”

  “Yes. And I’ve drawn up a condolence letter from you to the family. It’s also on the Governor’s desk for you to sign.”

  Very helpful and efficient, Jess thought. No, Sally’s not a secretary you would want to lose, but she had to tackle her about her drinking. “Don’t send that statement to the media until the Police Commissioner’s confirmed everything, will you?”

  Sally nodded and went out.

  Jess switched on David’s desktop computer. Her mind was buzzing while she sat waiting for it to power up and run through its security programmes. What do you think she did to deserve that? Mrs Pearson’s murder had been horrific. Jess couldn’t help but feel the manner of her death was significant. But what did it mean?

  A familiar chain of emails popped up on the screen and she started to scroll through them, glad to be back in business. She’d missed this flow of information from British embassies all over the world.

  Suddenly one particular email got her attention.

  Hey Jess,

  I might have put on some weight and have a few more grey hairs, but I don’t reckon I’ve changed that much. So why did you walk past me at Miami Airport yesterday and disappear on a flight to Providenciales? I had to google it to find out it was in the Turks and Caicos Islands. Where?

  Seriously though, it was good to see you, briefly. I’m in Miami for a couple of days on a fact-finding mission to see how the Americans patrol their south-east maritime border and handle illegal immigration from your neck of the woods. It’s a long story but I’m not in Brisbane any more. I’m working for the Federal Police in Canberra, on a multi-agency task force to combat illegal people smuggling.

  I see your islands are close to Haiti. It would be good to get a look first hand at your operation down there and see how you deal with illegals. I’ve got a couple of days extra I can build into my trip before going back to Australia. I’m not sure whether you’re working there or just visiting. But, if it’s convenient, I could come down. If not, no worries. We’ll catch up another time.

  All the best,

  Tom Sangster

  Jess flopped back in her chair in surprise. Tom Sangster! The gruff Aussie policeman with an artistic soul. She hadn’t seen him for a couple of years – since Brisbane to be exact. She conjured up his steely grey eyes. He couldn’t have changed much in two years, she thought. So how on earth did she manage to walk past him in Miami airport?

  She read his email again. His job sounded interesting, and the people-smuggling angle highly topical. It would be useful to hear from him what the US were doing to combat it. And it would be good to see him again too. He might even be able to give her some practical advice on police procedure relating to Mrs Pearson’s murder and the Governor’s accident. Yes, she thought, she would invite him down.

  She smiled and pressed reply.

  Dear Tom,

  I’m so sorry I walked past you yesterday, but you would be the last person I would have expected to see at Miami Airport of all places. Your job with the Federal Police sounds great. What an opportunity to do some travelling too.

  I’m working down here for a couple of months on a temporary placement in the Governor’s Office. I should be really happy to see you if you can get down for a couple of days. We have a big problem with illegal Haitians on our islands, as I’m beginning to find out. I’m sure you’ll find a visit worthwhile.

  She paused. Should she tell him about Mrs Pearson’s murder? No, she’d wait until he got here. But she would mention the Governor’s accident in case he’d seen it in the Miami press.

  The Governor had a serious car accident yesterday morning and has been medivaced to Miami. He’s in a bad way and we’re all really worried about him. I’m staying at his Residence. There are a number of guest rooms, so you would be welcome to stay here too.

  If you can make it, let me know which day and flight you will be arriving on. I’ll meet you at the airport.

  Best wishes,

  Jess

  As she sat back in the chair, memories of the Ellen Chambers’ murder started flooding back, which wasn’t unusual. She relived it all the time in her dreams, or rather nightmares. She’s running as fast as she can, but she can’t move. She hears his footsteps after her, but she can’t get away.

  Her throat tightened, and she unconsciously rubbed the spot above her left breast where the bullet entered. The truth was it had scarred her mind more than her body.

  Suddenly Sally burst through the door. “Rebekah’s just phoned. She’s in a state. She wants to see you.”

  Jess looked up. “What’s happened?”

  “She’s found Benji’s collar outside on the patio.” Sally sounded breathless.

  “So?”

  “She drove Dominic to the airport to get his flight for London. When she got back, she found the dog’s collar on the patio, next to his bowl. She puts fresh water out for Benji every day, in case he comes back.” Sally swallowed. “The collar had some nails punched through it.” She lowered her voice. “Coffin nails... that’s why she’s hysterical.”

  “Coffin nails?”

  “It’s a voodoo curse.” Sally closed the door to speak privately. “Coffins are dug up, and the nails used to seal the lid are pulled out. It means that whatever the person in the coffin died from is transferred to the person who is presented with the nails.”

  Jess stared at Sally. “We are talking about a dog, aren’t we?”

  “That’s just it,” Sally said. “Rebekah says she’s the one the nails are meant for. Someone’s going to kill her, in the same way they’ve killed her dog Benji.”

  12

  The Toyota sparked into life as Jess turned the key in the ignition of the office car. She laid Sally’s handwritten directions to the Ch
ief Justice’s house on the passenger seat. All she had to do was drive to the main roundabout in town and go straight over, rather than turn right onto Lighthouse Road and up to the Ridge.

  Nosing the car through the gates, she pulled out onto the main road. At least they drive on the left here, she thought, not like in America.

  Sally had wanted to go with her to see Rebekah until Jess reminded her about the scene at last night’s dinner. Sally had had the decency to look shame-faced. “I’ll be the last person Rebekah wants to see then.”

  Jess had simply nodded. She wouldn’t stoke the fire by reminding Sally that Rebekah had called her a bitch. The two women clearly had a history of flaring up at each other. It wasn’t just Sally’s fault; Rebekah had goaded her too. Still, Jess would confront Sally about her drinking and behaviour. It was totally unacceptable.

  She pulled the driver’s sun visor down, as the sinking sun was right in her eye line. She was glad to be out of the office, where the atmosphere had been hushed and tense all day. Finally, she was independent, and driving herself around.

  What a day! She loosened her tight grip on the steering wheel, and tried to relax back in the seat. As she drove towards Cockburn Town, she made a mental note of all the landmarks she passed. First on her right came the airport, then an old hotel with an outdoor beach bar, and the salina. Nothing on her left except the sea, and a few houses, until she got nearer to town. She liked the way the buildings and houses were gaily painted in different colours. They looked straight out of a picture book.

  Approaching the small Baptist church on her right, she spotted a familiar figure coming out of the gate. A line of cute toddlers followed. Jess checked her rear view mirror, swung across the road and pulled up alongside the kerb. Lowering the window, she called out: “Hi, Carrie.”