by Jean Harrod
But my delay in dealing with her has made her dangerous. Already she has brought that Federal Agent here; and she wants to bring in the British police too. I can’t allow that to happen. It will ruin everything.
The first time I saw her I decided she would end up in that watery graveyard, but I’ve had a change of heart. I let Bondye deal with that stupid Pearson woman. Now, I think I might let him deal with Jessica Turner too. Only this time, it will be much more terrifying to see her naked and pleading for her life on the sacrificial altar. She might have some respect for voodoo then.
Her interfering friend will not get away unpunished either.
* * *
* Matthew 18.6 Bible New International Version
26
Tom threw the plantation shutters open wide and stared out to sea. Relieved finally to see the purple glow of morning breaking, he took a deep breath of salty air and looked at his watch – 5.05. Outside, the scene was as still as inside the house. Jess and Sally must be sound asleep after all that action in the middle of the night.
He went over to the bed and picked up his sketchpad. He looked at Sally’s face. He still hadn’t got her expression of sexual ecstasy right. He could normally draw anyone, and any expression, in a few minutes. He’d had a lot of practice. Faces had intrigued him from the first moment he’d picked up a pencil. As an only child, he’d started drawing his mother, and then moved on to children in his class. Even back then, he’d found it difficult to forge relationships. So he drew the faces of the children he liked most, and hung them on his bedroom wall. They were his friends, in his eyes at least.
He cringed now remembering Jess’s face when she found him watching Sally and Brad. Beneath that stony stare of hers, he knew she was upset. Who could blame her? He was her guest, and he’d repaid her by sneaking out in the night to find out what one of her own colleagues was up to. They’d walked back to the house in silence, and returned to their rooms with a simple goodnight. He felt bad about that.
He hadn’t bothered to go back to bed, he was too keyed up. He’d heard Sally come back about an hour after him, and wondered if Jess would have it out with her. But after Sally’s door clicked closed, the house went quiet again.
He spent the rest of the night creating a log of chronological events on his iPad from the information and papers Jess had given him. When finished, he gathered all the papers up and slipped them safely back into the plastic folder to return to her in the morning.
Then he scrolled through the log.
Monday 3 August – TCI Immigration Minister (Clement Pearson) gives evidence to a British Government Inquiry into illegal immigration and the sinking of two Haitian sloops off Grand Turk.
Same day, around 5pm, he turns up at the Governor’s Office. Governor’s PA (Sally) hears them having a row. Doesn’t know what it’s about. Or does she? Did someone else in the office overhear that row? Find out if local lady, Alvita, was still at work?
Tuesday 4 August – Clement Pearson is found hanging in his garage at home by his wife. Inquest says suicide. But was it? Need to get a look at the scene of the hanging, and post mortem report.
[TWO WEEK GAP]
Tuesday 17 August – British Governor is seriously injured in a car crash in the early hours of the morning driving himself down from the lighthouse on the Ridge. What was he doing up there in the middle of the night? Who knew he was up there? Murder attempt on the way back?
Governor’s car travelling down from lighthouse. Truck smashes into the car at crossroads (driver side). Governor’s car catches fire. Photos show extensive damage and fire. How did Governor get out alive? Did he save himself? Or did someone pull him out? Still no sign of the truck or driver. No witnesses. Murder attempt? Police say accident. Why? Hard to believe. Where is that truck? Where is the driver? Need to get a look at the Governor’s car.
Jess arrives to take over from the Head of the Governor’s Office (David Evans). At dinner that evening, she meets the Chief Justice (Dominic Canning) who talks to her about Haitian voodoo and impact on islanders. Several pets disappeared. Locals believe they have been sacrificed. A row over dinner between his wife, Rebekah, and Sally. Those two don’t get on. Why?
Wednesday 18th – Jess finds letter (half finished) under lighthouse steps. Governor’s handwriting. Letter to his wife asking for forgiveness for something. What? Why leave letter there? Dropped in dark? Disturbed by someone? Who?
Dead Immigration Minister’s wife, Mrs Pearson, is found hanging by her bound feet in her garage. Throat cut. Why murder her? What did she know? Why so brutal? Why in the same spot as her husband? Need to get a look at crime scene.
Thursday 19th – Governor dies of injuries in Miami hospital, without regaining consciousness.
I arrive in the TCI.
Tom stared at the log for a moment, then typed in another entry.
Rebekah Canning declares she’s in love with Charles Regan, NY banker and co-owner local dive company. Says her husband doesn’t know. But everyone else seems to.
Tom ran his fingers through his hair. He wanted to help Jess, although he couldn’t be seen to be doing any police work on the island. Still, he could do some digging off the island. He scrolled to his email account and typed in a colleague’s address in Canberra. He would have to phrase the message carefully in case it was intercepted.
Hi mate,
Arrived safely in the Turks and Caicos Islands. Lovely place, with great scuba diving around the coral reefs. You’re missing a treat. I’m going out diving with an American guy, Brad Regan, and his twin brother Charles, who own the local dive company. Fantastic diving off the wall – the sea bed drops suddenly to 7,000 feet a few hundred yards offshore. Can’t wait to get out there. Google those guys and take a look at their dive company. Terrific photos on the internet.
It’s not all perfect in paradise though. The Governor was injured in a car crash and has since died. Jess and her colleagues are devastated. There’s also been a murder, a local woman. Google the press reports and take a look for yourself. Good job I’m on holiday!
He thought about Rebekah. She might be the wife of the British Chief Justice, but there was something weird about her, and she looked under real strain. Could he ask for a check on her too? Yep! He might as well check out Carrie too, while he was at it.
Jess is really busy coping on her own with things, although she has some backup from the local expat community. Rebekah Canning, wife of the British Chief Justice, is being particularly high profile, along with American Carrie Lynch, who runs the local kindergarten.
Anyway, this is just to let you know I’ve got my feet up for a couple of days. But I’ll definitely be back for the PM’s briefing next week. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.
Cheers, Tom
He re-read the email and pressed send. He was satisfied his mate would know he was asking him to run checks on Brad, Charles, Rebekah and Carrie.
Next, he scrolled to Jess’s photos of the Governor’s Land Rover and studied them. It was the burnt, rusty hue of the paintwork from the fire that really caught his attention. It looked pretty even all over the car, which seemed odd in the circumstances. And why, if the truck had smacked head-on into its side door, had the Land Rover not tipped onto its side or been shunted along the road? The more he looked at the photos, and the way the paintwork was burnt, the more suspicious it looked.
He needed to take a look at the vehicle. Why not go now, he thought, before anyone started work at the Government Garage. That way he wouldn’t have to answer any questions. And security seemed very lax on this island, so hopefully the Garage wouldn’t be locked.
Still dressed in his cargo shorts and t-shirt from earlier, he slipped his feet into his trainers. He found his torch and Swiss Army knife in his suitcase and slipped them into his shorts’ pocket. He tucked his iPad under his arm. He wouldn’t leave it after what happened to Jess’s laptop.
He knew from his map of Grand Turk that the Garage was located on the main road, ab
out half a mile south of the Residence. Rather than walk down the road in plain view, he would try and access it from the beach that ran parallel.
Lifting the latch, he opened the door and went onto the landing. Quietly, he stepped over the creaky top stair, made his way down to the kitchen, and slipped out the back door. No-one heard him leave this time, he was sure of that.
Although light was beginning to break out to sea, it was still dark onshore. The narrow beam of his torch picked out the way as he turned left and headed south, keeping close to the bushes at the back of the beach. His feet sank deep into the sand with every step, which made it heavy going. He resisted the temptation to walk along the flattened sand by the water’s edge, where he’d be more visible.
He was surprised how isolated the Governor’s house was, with no neighbouring properties, and only scrub and beach for at least half a mile in each direction. When he came across a six-foot high wire fence, with low rise buildings set back, he guessed it was the Government Garage. Checking both ways along the beach, he tucked his iPad down the waistband of his cargo shorts, hauled himself up onto the top of the fence, and jumped down the other side, into tall grass. Staying low, he made his way towards the buildings. He could hear nothing but the sound of waves lapping onto the shore. No dawn chorus of birds, just the sea. Nothing but the sea.
Perspiration trickled down his back as he moved towards the buildings in the semi-darkness. That was due more to nerves than heat. He didn’t want to get caught trespassing, but his instincts were compelling him to take a look at that Land Rover.
As Jess described, three timber garages stood in a row in front of him. He switched off his torch in case the beam was visible from the road, and crept forward. His footsteps on soft gravel resonated in the silence. He stopped and listened. No-one. He could see each garage had two large doors, held together by bolts at the top and bottom, and a hasp and staple latch for a padlock in the middle. Only the far garage looked secured with a padlock. He walked around the garages looking for windows, but there were none.
Quietly, he threw back the bolts of the first garage, pulled the doors open and peered inside. A black limousine was up on the ramps. But it was not the Governor’s Land Rover. He shut the door, secured the bolts again, and moved to the middle garage. Inside that one, a white minivan was jacked up on one side, with the front wheel removed. Not that one either. He closed the door, and moved to the garage secured with a padlock. The Governor’s car had to be in here.
He rattled the padlock. Locked. Pulling his knife out of his pocket, he retracted the hook pick, and inserted it into the lock. It clicked open. Add breaking and entering to trespassing, he thought, as he slipped off the padlock. He opened one of the doors and flashed his torch inside.
But he was disappointed. It was empty. He went inside and shone the beam around. This garage was very tidy. Tools were neatly laid out on benches and shelves around the walls; and the floor was meticulously clean. Too clean, he thought, as he walked around with the torch inspecting it. Not only had the Land Rover gone, someone had swept the garage clean of any evidence it had ever been there.
Closing the garage door, he heard a car pull up outside the compound gates, on the main road. He clicked the padlock back in place, and slipped round the side of the garage to avoid being picked out by the car’s headlights. As soon as the driver switched off the engine and lights, he started running back to the fence.
Suddenly, a deep growl rang out in the silence. Shit! Over his shoulder, he saw a dark shape in pursuit, and heard the rapid patter of paws. He sprinted to the fence, and clambered onto the top. A black dog sprang at the fence, snapping at his legs and barking furiously.
Practically falling down the other side, he picked himself up and hurried back along the beach as fast as he could jog through the deep sand, until he reached the Residence. His heart was still pounding, and he was gasping. But now he was convinced Jess was right. The Governor’s car crash was no accident. The police wouldn’t have moved the Land Rover otherwise, and cleaned up the garage of any evidence it was ever there.
He had to find that vehicle. But how? He couldn’t exactly ask the police to show it to him. He would have to find someone else to help. Then he remembered the helicopter pilot’s words on their way back from Key West. If you need any help, be sure to get in touch with Chuck Lynch. Of course, Chuck was the US police contact on the island. They obviously trust him, Tom thought, but could he?
He jumped as he heard a noise. Someone was coming. He lay flat on the sand in the gloom and saw a woman slip around the side of the house, carrying a child. Then he heard voices.
“I told you not to come back,” a woman hissed.
He knew that voice... it was Maggie!
“Take the child.” The other woman urged.
“I can’t.” Maggie sounded weary. “There are too many people in the house.”
“Do it!” The other woman snapped as if she were in charge. “What other choice do you have?”
Intrigued, Tom crawled behind a bush and peered round to see Maggie talking to a woman in a dark suit, with her hair tied in a bun. She was holding a little girl of about two or three, in a cotton dress. The child wasn’t making a sound.
The woman pushed the child into Maggie’s arms. “Take her!”
Suddenly, Maggie slapped the other woman hard across the face.
The woman gasped, and her hand flew to her cheek.
Tom held his breath, wondering what would happen next. But Maggie just grabbed the child.
The woman stared at her, then turned and stalked off.
Only then did the child start to whimper.
Maggie spoke softly to the little girl, as she bounced and cradled her in her arms. She shook her head as she watched the other woman walk away. Only when she was out of sight did Maggie turn and walk into the house.
27
Opening the heavy steel door, Jess stepped out of the communications room into the humid air in the corridor. She shivered. She’d been so absorbed in her work, she hadn’t noticed the air conditioning control was on such a low setting.
She checked her watch – 08.25.
It had taken over an hour to send a classified e-gram to London. She was relieved to have sent the photos of the Governor’s car and relayed her suspicions about the accident. She’d also told them about that unfinished confession letter to the Governor’s wife. She knew London would get into a flap when they read it. She was disappointed not to be able to give them any more details on Mrs Pearson’s murder. But she repeated her worry about the missing pets and reports of voodoo sacrifices. She wanted them to understand exactly what was going on, and the urgency of the situation. They needed to send UK police assistance.
Closing the door, she scrambled the combination lock. All she could do now was wait.
She rubbed her cold arms and headed down the corridor towards the kitchen. She was desperate for a cup of tea, having left the Residence before seven with no breakfast. Just as she was passing the Governor’s office, she heard a strange noise coming from inside. No-one should be in there, apart from Sally, and she wasn’t in yet.
She pushed open the door and peered inside. Overgrown shrubs outside the window swayed in the breeze, casting eerie shadows around the walls. She didn’t like this office. Not only was it gloomy, the heavy furniture made it feel oppressive. A twig scratched against the window pane in the wind, like chalk on a blackboard. That was the noise she’d heard.
As she stood looking around, she was more convinced than ever that the Governor and Clement Pearson’s row had kicked off this terrible chain of events. Was there something in here to shed light on what it was about? If Tom were here, he’d search the whole place from top to bottom. She closed the door, she’d do it herself later.
As she entered the kitchen, a cockroach scuttled across the floor, and disappeared under the unit. Cockroaches didn’t bother her. They were inevitable companions in hot climates. She yawned as she filled up the kettl
e. With only a few hours’ sleep after Sally and Brad’s antics on the beach, she was already tired.
She was cross with Sally. The girl was out of control. Drinking too much, constantly arguing with Rebekah, and having sex on a public beach. That would be enough to get her sent home from any overseas mission. But Jess hadn’t mentioned Sally in her e-gram to London, because she was a good PA. And Jess needed her help. She would give her a warning though. One more upset, and Sally would be on the first plane home. Jess would rather work alone than have a loose cannon on the team.
First though, she had to find out about that secret Sally and Brad shared.
She shoved a teabag into a mug, and poured in some boiling water. She liked tea made from leaves in a pot, but she was so parched, she’d drink anything.
Her ears pricked up as the front door slammed. The staff were arriving. She’d scheduled a hurricane planning meeting for the whole team at 08.30 to keep everyone focused on the job.
She took a carton from the fridge and poured some milk into her tea. Mug in hand, she walked out of the kitchen and straight into Sally.
“Morning, Jess.” Sally sounded cheerful. “You missed a great breakfast. I’ll have to stay at the Residence more often, and have Maggie wait on me.”
“Did you see Tom?” Jess asked, coldly.
“Nope. Guess he was spark out.” Sally looked at her sideways. “Must have had an exhausting night.”
Jess was about to give Sally a piece of her mind when the door opened again, and Alvita walked in.
“Morning,” Alvita mumbled.
“Morning,” Jess replied, in a business-like tone. “Can you please get all the staff into the Conference Room now. I want to start the hurricane planning meeting promptly in five minutes.” Without another word, she went straight into her office to get the papers for the meeting.
She would deal with Sally after that.
