by Jean Harrod
He stared at her. “So be it,” he said, gravely.
The Police Commissioner had a portentous way of speaking English, as if he were quoting directly from the classics. But she guessed he was giving her some kind of warning. Now, all she could do was get on with things until the London team got here. “So,” she said, focusing on what was necessary. “We need to put our hurricane emergency plans into action now and get ready.”
“I’ve called a meeting of the Grand Turk Disaster Management Committee for six this evening at the Centre on the Ridge,” he said.
She nodded. “I’ve just been up there with Alvita. She’s been showing me the ropes.”
He nodded, as if he already knew. “The Minister Roger Pearson is in Grand Turk. He will chair the meeting.”
“I thought the Minister only came over from Provo when Parliament was sitting.”
The Police Commissioner shrugged. “He came back yesterday evening.”
“I see.” She paused. “Have you instructed the DMCs on the other islands to meet this evening?”
“Yes. And a bulletin is going out on local radio and TV at six to warn people to make hurricane preparations.” He paused. “I’d like to advise airlines to notify passengers and tourists to leave the island before the storm gets here.” He looked at her. “The Governor usually gives this order.”
She nodded. “I’ll approve it in his absence.”
“Good.”
“Right, I’ll see you at the Disaster Management Centre at six,” she said, giving him his cue to leave.
But the Police Commissioner was not a man to be rushed. “I wanted you to know we’ve been taking the disappearance of Mrs Canning’s dog seriously, and the coffin nails warning.” He paused. “As you suggested, we put a 24 hour guard on her house, for her safety and peace of mind. But...”
Jess waited.
“But she attacked one of our officers last night,” he said, quietly.
Jess stared at him. What on earth would make Rebekah attack one of his officers? Had she completely lost it?
“She attacked him with a cricket bat,” Dexter went on. “He’s in the clinic with concussion.”
Jess couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Why on earth would Mrs Canning do that? Was it a mistake? Did she think your officer was an intruder? Or someone who wanted to harm her?”
He shrugged. “We don’t know. She wouldn’t calm down. So we arrested her and brought her into the police station.”
“Oh my God!”
He nodded. “She’s refusing to be interviewed, or give a statement. So we’re going to charge her with assaulting a police officer.”
Jess wasn’t surprised.
“She’s still causing a scene,” he went on, “so I was hoping you might come down to the police station, and... sit with her.”
She needs a lawyer, not a nanny, Jess thought.
“Does she have lawyer?” she asked.
He shook his head.
“Well you need to get her one.”
He looked dejected.
“What about Mrs Pearson’s murder?” she asked. “Has there been any progress?”
“We’ve brought in her Haitian gardener and cleaner for questioning too.”
“Her domestic staff?” Jess paused to think. “What would their motive be? Has something been stolen from the house? Jewellery? Money? Other valuables?”
He shifted in his seat. “Their daughter’s still refusing to go in to see what’s missing.”
“So why have you brought her Haitian domestic staff in for questioning?”
“We found a voodoo doll at the scene.” He hesitated. “It was staked to the same beam as Mrs Pearson, with a knife through its throat.”
Jess processed that bombshell for a minute before asking icily: “Why didn’t I know about this before?”
“We weren’t sure of its relevance.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Not sure of its relevance?”
He looked away. “I ought to be getting back, there’s a lot to do.” But, again, he didn’t move.
Jess was getting increasingly annoyed. “Is there something else you want to tell me, Dexter?”
He carefully folded his handkerchief and put it in his pocket. “People who don’t know this island, and our customs, can soon find themselves in difficulty.”
What was he talking about now? Or who was he talking about? Her?
“Visitors – or guests to be more precise – shouldn’t meddle in what doesn’t concern them,” he continued.
Guests? Was he talking about Tom? She wished Dexter would stop going round the houses. “What exactly are you trying to say?” she asked, bluntly.
He gave her a stern look. “There was a diving accident at the reef this afternoon. Your Australian guest had to make an emergency ascent when his tank ran out of air.”
She gasped. “Is he all right?”
“I think so.”
“Is he in the clinic?”
He shrugged.
She jumped up. “Where is he, then?”
“I don’t know where he is right now, but he’s certainly getting around the island, poking into every corner.” His dark eyes fixed on hers. “I suggest you restrain him, before he finds himself in real peril.” Dexter got up and politely took his leave.
After he’d gone, Jess sat at the desk, her head reeling. Visitors shouldn’t meddle in what doesn’t concern them. It was a warning, clear as day. The Police Commissioner was telling her he knew Tom was digging around into the Governor’s accident and Mrs Pearson’s murder. Oh God, it was all her fault. She should never have let Tom get mixed up in all this. A diving accident? She shivered. She had to find Tom immediately, and check he was all right. Then she had to get him off this island as soon as possible. She couldn’t live with herself if anything happened to him.
33
Jess half ran, half walked along the drive to the Residence. It was well over an hour since the Police Commissioner had left, and Tom still wasn’t answering his mobile. I suggest you restrain him before he finds himself in real peril. She was certain now Dexter knew far more about what was going on than he was willing to tell her. The man was an enigma. When she talked to him, she felt he was being honest, yet he was clearly lying. Or perhaps not so much lying, as keeping her in the dark.
Then a thought crossed her mind. All along, she’d been asking herself whether she could trust him. Maybe he was trying to work out if he could trust her, especially if the Governor had been up to no good.
A gust of wind whipped along the drive, covering her in a cloud of sand. She coughed and covered her mouth with her hand. She had sand in her throat, in her nose, in her hair, in her shoes. Everywhere. She put her head down and rushed on.
She should never have let Tom go out diving and nosing around. He was a detective. His instincts were to get stuck in. Thank goodness Sally had managed to book him on a domestic flight to Provo tomorrow afternoon. And from there, onto the last scheduled international flight to Miami. He had to get back to Australia to give that presentation to the PM next week anyway. And if he didn’t leave before the hurricane struck, he could get stranded for days, or even weeks.
But where was he now? She started running as fast as she could. The house was silent at the front. “Tom!” she shouted. She ran round the verandah to the back. “Tom!” But the courtyard was empty and silent. She ran into the kitchen. Empty too. Where was Maggie? She went into the hallway. “Tom!” she shouted up the stairs. “Are you here?” No reply. She ran up the stairs and knocked on his door. Silence.
She was alone in the house. All she could hear was the wind rattling the shutters like a prowler trying to get in. Then she heard an engine. She ran downstairs and opened the front door.
Tom jumped out of an old pick-up truck, and waved to the driver as he pulled away. He turned and saw her. “What’s up?” he asked.
“You haven’t been answering your mobile?” She sounded breathless.
“Oh, I couldn’
t have it on where we were.”
“Where were you?”
“Out with Chuck. We’ve been back to the Government Garage, and up to Clement Pearson’s house. He’s been showing me the scene of the murder.”
Jess was relieved to see him unhurt, yet angry he’d been out investigating. “You didn’t say you were going out with Chuck after diving.”
He nodded. “But look what I found up at Clement’s house.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the little brass key to show her.
She took it from him. “It looks like the one I found in the Governor’s desk drawer.”
“Exactly!”
She went back into the kitchen, where she’d flung her handbag on the table. Opening it, she pulled out her brass key and compared it to the one Tom had given her. “They look the same.”
Tom took both keys and held them up to the light. “Yep, I’m pretty sure they are.”
What lock do they fit though, she wondered? “Well, I hope you have better luck finding the lock they fit than I’ve had.”
His face fell. “Nothing?”
She shook her head.
He sighed. “I could do with a beer. How about you?”
She was getting annoyed again. He wasn’t even going to mention the diving accident. “I see you’re all right, then?”
He opened his hands in a gesture that said don’t I look all right?
“I know about your diving accident. The Police Commissioner told me.”
“Ah, I see. News certainly travels fast.” He frowned. “Come on, let’s go out into the courtyard, and I’ll tell you what I’ve been up to.”
She looked at her watch. “I have to go to a meeting up at the Disaster Management Centre on the Ridge at 6 o’clock. Did you hear there’s a hurricane on the way?”
“Shit!” He stopped.
“It’s due to hit sometime on Sunday,” she said, calmly. She was about to tell him he was booked on flights out of the Territory tomorrow when he interrupted.
“Let’s get that drink, and have a chat. Then, I’ll drive you up to the Ridge. That’ll give me a chance to take a look at the lighthouse. I’ll drop you off first, and pick you up after your meeting.”
She looked at him suspiciously. “Why do you want to see the lighthouse?”
“Because all roads seem to lead to it, physically and metaphorically speaking.” He gave her a smile. “Anyway, it’s an important tourist attraction. I’ve got to see that before I leave.”
She shook her head, and followed him out into the courtyard.
“Have you seen Maggie? When I got back here the place was empty, with all the doors open.”
He turned in surprise. “I haven’t seen Maggie since lunchtime.”
*
Jess took a long swig of cold beer and tried to relax back on the sofa. It was surprisingly sheltered in the courtyard. The sun was still out, but the sky had turned hazy. The only sign that a hurricane was on its way was the sound of wind whipping through the bushes. It put her on edge. “Sally’s booked you a seat on the four o’clock domestic flight to Provo tomorrow afternoon,” she said, “and on the 6 o’clock international flight to Miami.”
He looked at her in surprise.
“It’ll be the last international flight out of the Territory before the hurricane gets here. I’m told it’ll be too dangerous for jets to operate after that.”
He put his glass of beer on the table beside his chair. “I think I’ll stay until...”
“No,” she said, firmly. “You’ve got to get back to Canberra for your presentation to the PM on Friday. The airport could be closed for ages after the hurricane. You’re cutting it fine enough as it is.”
He shook his head. “I can’t leave you and Sally here alone.”
“We won’t be alone. Our Director of Overseas Territories is arriving from London tomorrow, with three UK police officers.”
“Ah!” He looked relieved. “And about time too!”
She nodded. “They were due to overnight in Miami and get here on Sunday morning, but I’ve told them there’s a hurricane on the way. They’re planning to get in ahead of that. So they’ll aim to get that last international flight in on Saturday evening.” She paused. “The same one you’ll be able to leave on.”
He looked at her. “What if they don’t get here before the airport closes?”
She sat forward, took off her shoes and tapped them on the ground to shake out the sand. “Look Tom, I feel bad enough as it is. You came down here for a break for a couple of days, to see me. I’ve been chasing from pillar to post with hardly a moment to talk to you, let alone take you out and about. There’s a murder enquiry going on, plus the Governor’s suspicious car accident. Then...”
“Jess...”
“Then you have an awful diving accident. You could have been killed. I-I can’t have that on my conscience too.”
He frowned. “What do you mean? On your conscience too?”
She put her shoes back on as she spoke. “I have to live every day with the part I played in the death of my husband and child,” she said, quietly.
“I thought they were killed in a car crash.”
“They were, but they wouldn’t have been in that car if it hadn’t been for me.” She could hear the emotion in her voice as she spoke. It was still so hard to talk about, but she would have to explain to make Tom understand why he had to leave before the hurricane. “When I was given a job in the Embassy in Jakarta, Jack and Amy came with me.” She looked up. “That’s where they were killed, in Indonesia.”
He nodded.
“Jack was a marine biologist,” she went on, “but there was no work like that for him in Jakarta. So he looked after Amy and the house while I worked.”
“I see.”
“Well that morning... the morning of the crash, we’d had a row. It was all my fault.” She took a deep breath. “I had a go at him because the house looked like a tip. I-I was running late and stressed about a presentation I had to make... I couldn’t find my computer memory stick, and I still had to drop Amy at the nursery.”
He sat quietly listening.
“Jack got angry, picked up Amy and said he’d take her to nursery to give me more time to get ready. He stormed out of the house, sped down the drive in a temper, and pulled out onto the main road right in the path of an oil tanker.” She stopped, as that familiar bleakness settled on her.
“It’s all right,” he said, softly. “You don’t have to tell me any more.”
“I keep waking up every day, hoping the pain will grow less. But it never does. All I can hear is the screech of tyres, the explosion as the tanker ploughs into Jack’s car, then the fire.” She buried her head in her hands. “When I close my eyes all I see is Amy waving through the back window of the car as Jack drove off. Her last words to me were g’bye mummy! I hear those words every single day of my life. Every single day.”
“I see,” he said, quietly.
“You must go before the hurricane, Tom.”
“But I...”
“Please. I can’t have anything happen to you too.” There was a pause. “And take Sally with you?”
He looked at her. “What about you?”
“I’m going to stay here.”
“This isn’t your problem either, Jess. You’ve been here for less than a week. You’re just helping a colleague. You must come with us.”
She shook her head. “I’m going to wait for the London team to get here. I have to help them.”
“Oh come on.” He was getting cross now. “You’ve got nothing to stay for.”
“I’ve got nothing to leave for either,” she flashed back.
He stared at her. “What about Simon?”
“What about Simon?”
He looked surprised. “Is he coming down? What does he think about you staying?”
“No, he’s not coming down.” She paused. “And I honestly don’t know what he thinks about me staying.”
“Surely...”
She put up her hand, wearily. “I have to go, or I’ll be late for the meeting.”
Tom’s eyes narrowed. “Right.” He emptied his glass. “Let’s go.”
“I think I should go on my own.”
“Give me the keys,” he said. “I’ll go and get the office car and bring it round. I’m driving you there.”
*
Driving past the Office on their way to the Disaster Management Centre Jess saw the gardeners struggling in the wind to fit the wooden hurricane shutters over the windows. Alvita was directing them, pointing and wagging an authoritative finger. She turned at the sound of the car, and frowned as they went past.
Sally too was playing her part, ringing round resident Brits and other foreign nationals on the island, as well as hotels and guesthouses with tourists, to warn them about the hurricane and give them the chance to leave. After that, she said she would go to the supermarket before they got mobbed, to stock up with the provisions for the Residence.
As Tom drove her, Jess sat compiling a mental list of issues to raise at the meeting. The American airline operator would need to get extra planes in tomorrow to evacuate the tourists, who were mostly on Provo anyway; the local radio station would need to broadcast regular bulletins right across the islands; the generator at the Centre needed to be checked it worked; shipping in the area would need to be informed...
She glanced over at Tom, who drove in silence. She was relieved he’d accepted that he should leave tomorrow afternoon. A little wave of sadness rippled through her. She’d miss having him around. He was the only person on the island she knew she could trust. She’d never tell him that though, in case he felt pressured to stay.
On the main road into town, it was a normal Grand Turk rush hour. No-one was driving fast, or in a panic. These hurricanes were part of everyday life in this Territory. Most storms veered off course anyway, before they got near the islands. But the few direct hits they’d had loomed large in island folklore.
The salty water slopped up over the sides of the salina, and the rusty weather vanes creaked in the wind. There were no green herons or other birds to be seen now. They knew what was coming, and had already left.
