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

by Jean Harrod

  Tom became aware of a trickle of sweat running down his back, and hoped it wouldn’t seep through his shirt. Brad on the other hand, dressed in that colourful Hawaiian shirt over his trousers, didn’t even look hot.

  Brad’s twin Charles was different altogether. He had the same bright blue eyes and laconic smile, but his hair was short and dark. He was a New York banker, according to Jess. She thought Charles financed the brothers’ dive business. He certainly looked like a highly paid executive, with his flabby paunch and expensive clothes. He had a dead pan expression. Poker-face, that’s what Jess had called him. He was sharp too. A little too sharp for Tom’s liking. Many of his quips were more cutting than clever. Had the two brothers been educated at the same school or university, he wondered? Of course, it wasn’t unusual for one son in a family to be brighter than the other. Did that apply to twins too?

  The most interesting thing about Charles was his preoccupation with Rebekah. He barely said anything to anyone else. Whenever he wasn’t eating, his arm lay possessively along the back of her chair. He fussed over her and leant closer whenever he could. Rebekah on the other hand, alternated between leaning into him and moving away, as if she couldn’t decide which way to turn. Tom wasn’t surprised to see her there without her Chief Justice husband, because Jess said they were all friends. But Rebekah’s obvious relationship with Charles intrigued him.

  Those two have been between the sheets, he thought. No doubt about that. Rebekah was gorgeous, and spoke with a posh English accent. Anyone could see she was high maintenance, though. He couldn’t be doing with a woman like that. Jess said Rebekah’s husband was away at a conference in London. And it looked like Charles had stepped effortlessly into his shoes in his absence. The pair of them were comfortable, as if they’d known each other for some time. Everyone else around the table seemed to accept their obvious closeness too.

  Tom tried to engage Charles in conversation. “So what do you do, Charles?” he asked, for something to say, even though he knew.

  Charles looked over. “I’m one of those boring bankers that everyone has loved to hate since the recession.”

  “Only since the recession?” Tom raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “Bankers have been loathed in Australia for decades.”

  “It’s true.” Jess laughed. “Aussie banks even put out funny adverts on the basis that they are the root of all evil.”

  The smile Charles gave didn’t reach his eyes.

  He didn’t like that, Tom thought. This man takes himself seriously. “Do you ever do business in Sydney?” he asked.

  Charles shook his head. “I’ve visited a couple of times, but I’m more interested in the big players, like London, Frankfurt and Tokyo.”

  It was a put down; but Tom didn’t bite. Something just didn’t seem right about these two Regan brothers, not in a place like this. He couldn’t quite work out what it was as he sat watching and listening. Of course he had no jurisdiction to do any police work, and he wouldn’t cause trouble for Jess, but he thought he might ask the guys back home to run a few discreet checks on her American guests. It would be interesting to see what they came up with.

  He took another sip of wine. The old timbers around the house creaked as they contracted after the heat of the day. Good job the air was so humid, or any small flame could send this old place up like a box of matches, he thought. In the dry heat back home, eucalyptus trees could spontaneously combust. It was nature’s way of renewing itself.

  His ears pricked up as he heard voices along the hallway: he thought Maggie was working alone in the kitchen. He looked up. No-one else around the table seemed to have heard anything. Then it went quiet out there again.

  Concentrating back on Jess’s guests, he found it weird that the conversation seemed contrived not to touch on anything upsetting. Hadn’t Jess said they were getting together because everyone was upset. So why weren’t they talking about the murder, or the Governor’s death? He couldn’t help but notice they were all watching each other closely too.

  Aside from his eyes on Rebekah, Charles kept glancing at his brother Brad. Why? The Governor’s PA Sally was all over Brad, touching his arm or shoulder, laughing a little too much at his jokes, whereas Brad hardly said a word to her. The only person he seemed to have eyes for was Jess. He’d assumed the role of host, filling up glasses with wine, offering more food, and generally looking after everyone. Very presumptuous of him.

  The only person who appeared normal in this group was the American girl, Carrie, who sat on his right. Most of the time, she sat listening quietly to the conversation. He found it hard to study her without turning and making it obvious, but he’d felt her eyes on him from time to time. She was pretty, tall, and blonde. He wondered about her. “So what brought you down to Grand Turk, Carrie?” he asked.

  She smiled at him with perfect white teeth. “I run the local kindergarten. My story’s much like Brad’s. I came down to Grand Turk on a diving vacation, and fell in love with the place. I quit my teaching job in the States and opened a kindergarten here.” She paused. “There wasn’t one, you see.”

  “When was that?” he asked.

  “Seven years ago.”

  “Seven years?”

  She gave him a playful look. “Why should that surprise you?”

  “Don’t you miss the nightlife, the shopping, the hustle and bustle of the States?”

  She gave a small laugh. “I go to Miami regularly. I’ve opened another kindergarten over there. They do lots of fund raising around the States to help us here with money, books and crayons, that kind of thing. From time to time, I take the little ones and their parents to Miami for a special party or event. Sometimes the American children and their families come here. There are lots of exchanges,” she said proudly. “It’s going well.”

  He smiled. “Are your family over there too?”

  She shook her head. “I haven’t spent all my life in America, Tom. I was brought up in Africa, mostly. My family are still there.”

  “In Africa?”

  She nodded. “My father gave up his teaching job when I was young to become a missionary. He took my mother and me with him. So you see, I’m more used to a simple way of life than the greedy excesses of America.”

  It was said lightly, but her words didn’t ring true somehow. She seemed self-assured, and at ease around that table, as if she were more used to wining and dining in fashionable restaurants than sitting in mud huts in Africa. Perhaps she was just comfortable in her own skin? Perhaps she was the kind of person who was comfortable in any social situation? “Which African country did you live in?” he asked.

  “In Ghana, mostly, and Nigeria.”

  “Ah, so you’ll know a bit about voodoo, then? Am I right in thinking it came over to the Caribbean with the slaves from West Africa?”

  A frown flitted across Carrie’s face. “Yes.”

  “So what do you make of what’s going on here? Jess told me about the missing pets, the sacrifices, and strange ceremonies on the beach in the night.”

  Carrie looked at him. “Nearly every voodoo service has an animal sacrifice. By killing the animal, life is released. The theory is the spirits receive the life sacrificed to them and are rejuvenated.”

  “So it’s okay to take people’s pets?”

  She shook her head. “That’s just gossip. Voodoo is more about healing people’s illnesses with herbs – a kind of faith healing.”

  “And what about black magic?”

  “Voodoo is a peaceful, happy religion,” she said, patiently. “I grant you there is black magic voodoo, but it’s banned here.”

  “Tell me about it,” he said.

  “Well...” she glanced around the table.

  He followed her gaze and saw that everyone else was listening too.

  “Perhaps we should have dessert now,” Jess said, loudly.

  “Please,” Tom persisted. “I’d like to know more from Carrie about voodoo.”

  Carrie shrugged. “Black m
agic is the voodoo of angry and mean spirits. It’s all about death curses, zombies and... wild sex orgies.”

  “Ah!” Tom smiled. “So that’s what’s going on of a night on the beach.”

  Carrie looked serious. “The human mind is strange, Tom. If people believe in black magic voodoo, then it’s real to them. And that makes it dangerous.”

  Rebekah flung her napkin on the table. “Those bastards took my Benji!”

  “Benji’s her dog,” Carrie whispered to Tom.

  Rebekah choked “N-now they’re coming for me too.”

  Tom felt his jaw drop, literally.

  Jess explained: “Yesterday, Benji’s dog collar turned up outside Rebekah’s on the patio. It had three coffin nails punched into it.”

  “Exactly!” Rebekah exclaimed. “Coffin nails are a voodoo curse. It means I’m going to die the same death as my Benji. And he was sacrificed, I’m sure of it.”

  Tom thought the woman had completely lost it.

  “Come on, Rebekah.” Charles put his arm around her. “You know nothing like that is going to happen to you.”

  “It will. I know it will.” As Rebekah pushed him away, she knocked her glass of red wine over. It ran right across the table’s shiny surface and straight into Sally’s lap.

  “Oi,” squealed Sally, as she pushed her chair back, and glared at Rebekah.

  Rebekah stared back, then stood up: “I’ve got something to tell you all.”

  “Rebekah!” Charles put a firm hand on her arm.

  Rebekah shrugged it off. “I’m going to say it.”

  There was a hushed pause.

  “Please Rebekah...”

  “Charles and I are in love,” she said, dramatically.

  An embarrassed silence followed.

  Charles stood pale and rigid.

  Tom looked over at Jess in horror, realising his talk of voodoo had been like throwing a hand grenade at her guests.

  “Jess told me to be truthful about the affair,” Rebekah insisted.

  “I meant with the police,” Jess replied.

  “Your poor husband,” Sally said, bluntly. “No wonder he’s gone off to London. Who wouldn’t want to get away from you two?”

  Rebekah tossed her head. “Dom doesn’t know about us.”

  “Of course he bloody well knows,” Sally said, as she wiped her wine-soaked dress with her napkin. “We all know. It was obvious. Staring into each other’s eyes all the time. Touching each other. You humiliated that poor man.”

  “Listen to that... that strumpet over there,” Rebekah flung back at Sally, “with her boobs hanging out. She can’t stop touching Brad!”

  “Enough!” Jess stood up.

  Rebekah slumped back down on her chair.

  Even Charles was at a loss for words.

  At that moment there was a cry from the kitchen, followed by a crash.

  Everyone looked at each other.

  Tom jumped up, ran down the hallway and into the kitchen, to see a smashed bowl of trifle splattered across the floor, and Maggie kneeling beside it with her head in her hands.

  He put a hand on her shoulder. “Are you all right, Maggie?”

  She looked with fearful eyes at the back door.

  “Who was it?” he asked.

  Maggie shook her head, and covered her face with her hands.

  Tom ran outside, in time to see a figure disappearing into the bushes along the beach.

  *

  Tom laid his head back on the rattan chair, and flapped a mosquito away from his ear. The stillness of the tropical night belied the turmoil inside his head. What must Jess think of him? She’d been so careful to keep the conversation light. Then he’d pushed Carrie to talk about voodoo, and caused a real blow up.

  Then there was that crash in the kitchen.

  The kitchen door squeaked open. Jess came out and flopped down in the chair next to him. “They’ve all gone, thank goodness. And Sally’s gone to bed, still moaning about her dress.”

  “I’m sorry, Jess.” He was anxious to apologise. “I shouldn’t have gone on about voodoo.”

  She touched his arm, gently. “Don’t worry. Something was going to set Rebekah off tonight. It was just a matter of time.”

  “What a drama queen!”

  Jess nodded, as she slipped off her shoes. “Except I know deep down she’s really worried about her dog, and that voodoo curse. And about her affair with Charles.”

  “Do you think her husband knows?”

  Jess nodded. “Rebekah wants to believe he doesn’t. But he’s too smart not to have worked it out.” She paused. “Rebekah told me their marriage was toxic. Strange word to use, I thought – toxic.” She shrugged. “Anyway she came clean about her affair with Charles when we had that private chat before supper. What she didn’t know is that I’d already seen them kissing when they thought they were alone.”

  Tom nodded. “She’s very stressed. I could see it in her eyes. It’s like she’s about to snap, if you know what I mean?”

  They fell silent with their own thoughts, until he asked: “Has Maggie said any more about what happened in the kitchen?”

  Jess shook her head. “She’s sticking to her story that she was working with her back to the door, and didn’t see or hear whoever came in.”

  He gave her a sceptical look.

  “I know it doesn’t make sense, Tom. But I saw fear in her eyes.”

  Tom could see nothing but weariness in Jess’s, but he had to tell her the truth. “I heard voices in the kitchen way before any scream or smashed crockery.”

  Her face fell. “Are you saying Maggie’s lying?”

  “I was closest to the door.” He paused. “And I definitely heard raised voices before Maggie cried out.”

  Jess stared at him. “You mean she was arguing with someone?”

  He nodded. “I’m not sure if it was a man or woman. They were quite a way off.”

  Jess sank back into the chair and stared into the distance. “Is there no-one I can trust?”

  The sad way she said that really unsettled him.

  Laying her head back on the seat, she looked up at the night sky and flapped away a mosquito.

  Tom glanced at a cloud of hypnotised insects swarming around the single strip light over the patio bar. They really had a mosquito problem on this island.

  “Well, there’s nothing more we can do tonight, Tom,” she said. “Fancy a nightcap?”

  He smiled. “Thought you’d never ask.”

  She went to get up. “There’s an open bottle of wine in the fridge.”

  He put a hand on her shoulder. “You stay there.” He got up and went back into the kitchen. He was surprised to see Maggie had washed up and cleared the kitchen before leaving, despite her fright. The only remains of dinner was a stickiness underfoot where the trifle had landed. He lifted the bottle of wine out of the fridge and was just closing the door when he heard a voice in the house. He listened. It had to be Sally. Everyone else had gone.

  He went over to the door and peered down the hall.

  Sally’s recognisable voice floated down from upstairs.

  “We must tell Jess,” Sally whispered. “We can’t keep her in the dark.”

  Tom instinctively pressed himself against the wall so as not to be seen.

  “You promised you’d come over,” Sally whined. “What does it matter if I’m staying at the Residence?”

  Sally was on her mobile, on the landing above. Must be a better signal there than in her bedroom, he thought. But it was the urgency in her voice that made him want to listen.

  “Oh all right!” She sounded peeved now. “It’ll have to be later, after Jess and her cop have gone to bed.” She paused. “I’ll meet you at the moorings. What time?”

  Sally must have hung up after that because it went quiet. Tom waited until he heard her footsteps cross the landing and the latch of her bedroom door close. Interesting, he thought, as he went back into the kitchen. He picked up two glasses from the kitchen ta
ble and held them up to the light to check they were clean.

  Outside, Jess had moved onto the small rattan sofa, and was now lying stretched out on her back. Her blonde hair fanned out over the cushion at one end and her tanned legs dangled over the other. Eyes closed, she lay still, as if asleep. She looked lovely, lying there, with her skirt ridden up over her thighs. He felt a tightness in his throat.

  She opened her eyes. “I’m so glad you’re here, Tom.”

  “Because I’ve got the wine?” he joked to cover his confusion.

  She laughed, sat up and tucked her legs under her. “You know I’ve often wondered how you’re getting on.”

  He looked at her.

  “I’ve found it hard to forget that awful time in Brisbane.” She paused and smiled at him. “So, tell me, how has life been treating you?”

  “Well...” He put the glasses down on the table, and poured the wine. He was going to tell her about Sally’s conversation, except she looked in such need of sleep, he thought he’d find out what Sally was up to himself first. “I’ve told you most of it,” he went on. “I got promoted after our Brisbane caper and was sent to work for the Feds in Canberra.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Who would have thought it? Me, a Federal Agent!”

  “Why not? You’re good at your job.” She hesitated. “I still have nightmares about that maniac... I’m running through the streets of Brisbane with him after me... I wake up when I feel the bullet pierce my skin.” She shivered. “Did they ever find his body in the river?”

  “Nah.” Tom handed her a glass of wine. “I told you he’d be feed for the sharks.”

  A shadow came over her face. “I wish his body had been found. At least we’d be certain.”

  “We are certain,” Tom said, firmly. “He can’t have survived.”

  She took a sip of wine.

  Now they were at ease with each other, he took the opportunity to say something more personal. “You know, when I saw you at Miami Airport the other day, it was the first time I’d ever seen you looking... relaxed.”

  “Thanks,” she said, drily.

  “Sorry, that didn’t come out right.” He paused to find the words. “They were difficult times on that murder case. We were both exhausted...”