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

by Jean Harrod

  Tom slowed as they approached the Dive Centre, and pulled up outside. He pushed the gear into park and looked at the building. “Just seeing if anyone’s about,” he said.

  Jess peered at the small hut-type structure. The diving gear and clothes that normally lay out on the grass had gone, and the door was shut tight. “Looks all locked up to me.”

  Tom shook his head and pointed to the jetty. “Those two dive boats will need to be moved, or they’ll get smashed up in the hurricane.”

  “Will they bring them onshore and store them in a boat shed somewhere?”

  “Someone told me there’s a natural harbour at the north-west creek,” he said. “Boats shelter up there during hurricanes. Brad might take them up there.”

  Out to sea, the sun had already gone down and in its place was a mottled, purply black sky. “Here comes the storm,” she said, quietly.

  They sat for a moment, then he pushed the gear into drive and continued along the road.

  “You still haven’t told me about the diving accident,” she said.

  “It wasn’t an accident.”

  “What?”

  He shrugged. “We all went down to the bottom. I got pretty occupied watching a sea turtle. And when I looked up, I was alone. Everyone else had gone.”

  “Everyone else?”

  “Yeah, Charles and Carrie came out with us too.” He sighed. “Then I couldn’t breathe. I read the gauge and saw the tank was empty. I tried to make some noise to attract attention, but no-one responded.” He shrugged again. “Had no alternative but to make an emergency ascent.”

  She shuddered. She hated the thought of diving herself, although she understood its attraction for others. “You might still be down there now.”

  He nodded. “Very easily. That’s the first time I’ve ever had to do an emergency ascent.”

  She stared at him. “I thought you were an experienced diver.”

  “I am. But it’s not every day someone tampers with your oxygen tank and tries to kill you.”

  “Kill you? Are you sure? Could it have been an accident?”

  “I checked that tank thoroughly before we left, and while we were in the boat. There’s no doubt in my mind, someone tampered with it.”

  Jess was shocked. Only Brad, Carrie and Charles were on the boat, apart from Tom. Was he saying one of them did it?

  He glanced over. “Anyone on the boat could have done it. We were chatting, moving around. The noise from the wind and engine was loud.”

  “But it doesn’t make sense. Why would anyone want to kill you?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe I’ve been asking too many questions?”

  She shuddered again. “I don’t know who told the Police Commissioner, but he knew what had happened. And do you know what he said?” She paused. “He warned me to restrain you or you’d find yourself in real peril.”

  Tom’s steely eyes narrowed. “Did he now?”

  Jess could feel her head throbbing, and rubbed her forehead. “I’m sorry about what happened, Tom.” It sounded a trite thing to say.

  “Why are you apologising? It’s not your fault.”

  “No, but if it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t be here.”

  “Yeah, and if I wasn’t here, I might have stepped off the side-walk and under a bus in Miami.” He glanced over at her.

  The blunt detective she’d known back in Australia came shining through. She stayed silent as they passed the Haitian settlement. A few women stood in a group outside, each with a small child in their arms. The ever-present skinny dogs sniffed around, foraging for food. Jess’s eyes flicked over the flimsy shacks and corrugated iron roofs that would never withstand a hurricane. Where do these people go for shelter? Another issue on her list for the meeting.

  Suddenly a face caught her attention. She peered through the window. “Is that Maggie?”

  “Where?”

  She pointed to one side of the settlement. “Over there. Amongst that group of women.”

  Tom slowed the car and pulled up alongside the kerb. “I can’t see her,” he said.

  “No.” Jess sounded confused. “I can’t either now. But I’m sure it was her. She had a child in her arms.”

  He shrugged. “Want to go and have a look?”

  Jess checked her watch. “It’s nearly six, I need to get to the meeting.”

  He nodded and drove on. Halfway up the hill, he slowed and pulled up again. “See that house up ahead on the left? That’s Clement’s.”

  Jess could see a house standing alone. “Lovely spot.”

  “Yes. It’s got a great panoramic view over the island and sea from the lounge and deck. But...”

  “But what?”

  He hesitated. “It’s a bit weird in there.”

  She glanced over. “It’s bound to feel eerie, with a suicide and murder in the basement. The Police Commissioner told me about the voodoo doll pinned to the beam, by the way, with a knife through its throat.”

  He nodded. “Did he mention the hall mirror was turned to face the wall?”

  She shook her head.

  “Chuck says mirrors represent doorways to the world of the dead in voodoo. Someone wanted to stop Mrs Pearson resting in peace. Apparently now she becomes a zombie or a ghost to wander around the house and the island for eternity.”

  Jess stared at him, but he looked serious. Was all this getting to him too. “The Police Commissioner’s fixated on voodoo too. He’s brought her Haitian domestic staff in for questioning.”

  He glanced at her. “Very convenient. Chuck says the brutal way she was killed has terrified everyone.” He paused. “You know, Jess, I can’t help feeling that’s what it was meant to do.”

  “Mm.” She nodded. “Did Chuck say anything about the way she was strung up by her feet, and her throat cut? Is that something to do with voodoo? I mean I know they sacrifice animals, but...”

  Tom gave a dismissive laugh. “Sacrificial ceremonies. What nonsense!”

  “It’s not though” she said. “Don’t forget I’ve seen one. And the Chief Justice takes voodoo seriously too. Rebekah’s convinced the Haitians took her dog.” She paused. “I believe voodoo is practised here, Tom.”

  “Jesus! No wonder the Police Commissioner’s brought Mrs Pearson’s domestic staff in for questioning, then.”

  “You know what’s really bugging me,” she went on, “the way she was murdered. And why?” She paused. “Do you suppose she knew something about her husband, or about his death? Maybe she was going to speak out, and someone decided to shut her up for good?”

  They fell silent.

  “I think that key you found at Clement’s is the link between him and the Governor,” she continued. “I mean, why would they both have a copy of the same key?” She paused. “Where’d you find it anyway?”

  “In the garage, wedged under the seat in his boat.”

  “Bit odd, isn’t it? Why didn’t the police find it? They must have searched the whole house.”

  He nodded. “Except the open back of the boat was covered with a tarpaulin. I guess the police didn’t check it thoroughly. I have to say Chuck was spooked in there. He couldn’t get out fast enough. No doubt the rest of them were too.”

  She nodded. “They did that to Mussolini, you know. Strung him up like a pig. He was executed, then hung upside down in a service station for everyone to see. It was done to confirm his demise to the people.”

  Tom glanced over. “Is that what’s going on here, do you think? Someone wants to confirm the death of Clement and his wife to the locals?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe. But whatever the reason, the manner of her death was so horrific, everyone’s terrified of being next.” She pointed through the window. “Turn right here, Tom.”

  He turned the car into the narrow track and bumped along to the building. There were several cars parked haphazardly outside. “Is that the Disaster Management Centre?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Well, good luck with that,” he sa
id, flatly. “I’ll pop up to the lighthouse while you’re in there.” He glanced over. “I’m just going to take a look. Nothing more.”

  She sighed. “I might be a while, Tom. Nothing happens very quickly in these meetings.”

  “That’s fine. Just call me, I’ll be back in five minutes.”

  She was about to get out of the car when she remembered. “What happened at the Government Garage when you and Chuck got there? Only London have arranged for an accident forensic expert to come over from the Cayman Islands to examine the Governor’s car,” she said. “He’s due to arrive tomorrow.”

  “You might as well stand him down, Jess. There’s nothing to see.”

  “Is the car still missing?”

  “Oh no, the Land Rover’s there, and it’s the Governor’s all right. But that’s the only thing that is certain.” He pulled a face. “The vehicle’s now a burnt out shell. Looks like someone took it, set it alight to remove any trace of the accident and forensic evidence, and then kindly returned it.”

  34

  The white-washed lighthouse looked like a ghostly statue against the darkening clouds. Tom opened a gate in the white picket fence that bordered the plot, and went over to it. A fierce wind blew sea-spray in his face. Must be about 50 to 60 feet tall, he thought, as he looked up at the structure. He reckoned the view from the glass observation tower at the top would be stunning, and walked up the few steps to try the door handle. It was locked. He wondered who kept the keys?

  Close by stood another small building, which he guessed was the old kerosene store. The lighthouse was electrified now, but still working to guard the northern end of the island.

  He sat down on the steps and looked out to sea. It was a fantastic sight as huge waves broke up on the north-west reef. Rays of light beamed down from behind purple clouds like spotlights on the dark, swirling sea. It looked magical, but he was uneasy.

  How could he go and leave Jess on her own? He understood why she didn’t want to leave, although he would never tell her that. She felt responsible. He’d witnessed her sense of duty in Australia. And he knew well enough that he would never be able to persuade her to do something she didn’t think was right.

  A loud roar interrupted his thoughts. He stood up and looked back towards the road. It had sounded like a motorbike, but there was nothing coming. Something glinted further along the headland. He squinted, but he couldn’t see what it was.

  He turned back to the sea, and walked over to the edge of the bluff. Now the wind seemed to be pushing him back. Was it a warning? He smiled at the very idea.

  About 50 yards further along, he could see a path along the top of the cliff, and even further along, a dirt track zig zagging down to a small beach. Directly below him, water swirled treacherously around jagged rocks. The rock formation was unusual, and he wondered if there were any caves down there. It was impossible to see from the top, where he stood. He would only be able to check that out from the beach.

  He looked up at the sky. Dusk was fast approaching, but he reckoned he still had about 15 minutes or so of daylight. He stood up, pulled a torch from his trouser pocket, and started walking along the cliff path. Reaching the dirt track, he started down. At first the going was good. The trodden down earth was easier to negotiate than he’d thought. As the path got narrower and steeper, the wind strengthened, making it more difficult to keep his footing. He could feel the reverberation of the waves pounding the reef underfoot. He tried to concentrate on the path, but he could hardly take his eyes off the sea. The roar of the wind and the waves was strangely menacing.

  Suddenly, loose stones and earth came sliding down from above. When he looked up, he thought he saw a shadow.

  Turning back, he slipped. A searing pain shot through his knee as he tumbled over. Arms flailing, he rolled over and over, his hands trying to grasp onto something.

  Rolling onto his back, he dug his heels into the earth, and came to a stop on the track. Gingerly he pulled himself into a sitting position, and rubbed his knee. Sore, but not broken. He turned onto his stomach and started climbing back up the track on all fours. Suddenly a crack rang out. He craned his neck to look up.

  A figure loomed above.

  Something whined past his ear.

  He pressed himself flat on his stomach. More bullets pinged into the earth around his feet. He pushed his face so hard into the earth, he could hardly breathe.

  Suddenly, the whole scene lit up. The lighthouse. A strong light beamed out to sea.

  He held his breath.

  *

  Jess paced around outside the Disaster Management Centre, wondering why Tom wasn’t answering his phone or texts. Where the hell was he? It was pitch black now, everyone else had gone at least 15 minutes ago. She jumped as something touched her leg. It was only a small branch being blown along the ground by the strengthening wind.

  She heard an engine in the distance, and peered along the track, but she couldn’t see any lights.

  Her phone rang, making her jump again. “Hello,” she answered.

  “Where are you?” Tom shouted.

  “Where am I?” she asked, sarcastically. “Where are you?”

  “Listen, Jess.” His voice was low, but urgent. “Go inside the building and lock yourself in!”

  “Whatever for?”

  “Go inside. Now! Please!”

  Jess didn’t know what was going on, but she heard the panic in his voice. “Okay,” she said.

  “And stay in there until you hear my voice. Don’t open it for anyone else. Someone just fired at me at the lighthouse. They’ve gone. But I think they may be coming for you.” He hung up.

  Jess stood shocked. Then she heard the crunch of a footstep on gravel.

  She ran inside the building, slammed the door and turned the key in the lock. Ear to the door, she listened hard, but all she could hear was the wind whistling around the building.

  The door handle rattled up and down.

  “Tom?” she called out.

  No reply.

  She grabbed a chair and jammed the back under the door handle.

  She heard something slam into the heavy, wooden door. A bullet? She ran away from the door, and hid under a desk. She could hear nothing but the wind.

  Suddenly a car horn rang out in the distance. It kept going as it got closer and closer. A car screeched up to the building. Brakes squealed. Engine still running, a door opened: “Jess!”

  Tom! She pulled the chair away, unlocked the door and ran outside.

  “Thank God you’re all right!” He grabbed her arm. “Quick. Let’s get out of here.”

  They ran to the car.

  “Someone fired at the door,” Jess shouted over the wind.

  “Did you see who it was?”

  “No.” She jumped into the passenger seat.

  Tom got in behind the wheel. “Did you hear a voice?”

  “No.”

  He spun the car around and drove fast along the track. The undertray bumped and scraped as they bounced over the rough terrain. At the end of the track, he turned left, and sped down Lighthouse Road towards town.

  When Jess finally took her eyes off the road, she looked over and saw he was covered in dirt and sand. Only when it was safe enough to ease his foot off the accelerator did she ask what had happened.

  He glanced in his driver’s mirror. “I went to the lighthouse. I saw a small, sandy beach below the bluff. There was a trail leading down, so I thought I’d go and take a look.”

  “You went down in the dark?” Her voice was incredulous.

  “It was still dusk,” he said, defensively. “There are some rocks directly below the headland. I thought there might be caves down there, and the only way to check that out was from the beach.”

  “For God’s sake!”

  “I slipped and fell when I thought I saw someone above. They fired at me. But they couldn’t get a clear shot because the bank was steep.”

  “Did you get a look at them?”

&n
bsp; He shook his head. “Shortly after I got to the lighthouse, I thought I heard a motorbike rev up. Whoever it was must have ridden the bike to the headland, and watched me through binoculars. Something was glinting over there. Probably saw me drop you off, and followed me to the lighthouse.”

  “And then they came back after me,” she said, quietly.

  “I guessed they would.”

  Jess stared at him, then turned to look out the back window. “Are we being followed?”

  He looked in the mirror again. “Don’t know. Can’t see anyone.”

  She turned back. “I don’t get it, Tom. Why would anyone want to kill you? Or me?”

  “Because we’re getting too close.”

  They fell silent, stunned by what had happened. When they reached the roundabout in town, Tom took the road towards the Governor’s Office, but then he stopped abruptly at a beachside bar and parked the car in the middle of several others in the car park. Switching off the lights and engine, he sat still for a while to check no-one had followed.

  Jess looked at him.

  “Let’s get a drink before we go back to the Residence. We need to talk... get our heads sorted.” He brushed the sand and dirt from his hair and clothes.

  They got out and walked over to the bar, which was little more than a wooden shack with a corrugated iron roof. Inside, the place was humming. They managed to find a free table and sat down. It was very basic. No table cloths or napkins, but the place had some life about it, and that’s just what they needed.

  “TGIF,” Tom nodded over to the bar. “There’s the sign. Cheap drinks for a couple of hours.”

  “No wonder the place is full.”

  “What can I get you?” he asked

  “Whatever you’re having.”

  Tom went over to the bar, and came back with two glasses of local rum and two menus. “Might as well eat while we’re here.”

  Jess took a long swig of rum, and grimaced.

  Tom knocked his back in one go.

  He looked shaken, but she said nothing more. She didn’t feel in the least bit hungry, but she was happy to be in the bar with other people around, and Tom. “I can’t believe we’re thinking about eating.”