A Shimmer of Hummingbirds

by Steve Burrows

  “That was nice.”

  “Not to mention unexpected.” She may as well say it. She knew Domenic would be thinking it anyway. And he would be waiting for an explanation. “It took a whole side of a Motown Chartbusters album before Danny got around to telling me the reason for his visit. An entire side!” she repeated for emphasis. “Broken hearts, betrayals, unrequited love. Those poor Motown singers didn’t have much luck in the old romance department, did they?”

  Jejeune waited.

  “This case,” said Lindy carefully, “the lady who was found murdered in one of those cottages that back onto the river. Colleen Shepherd has brought somebody in to handle it.”

  Jejeune still said nothing.

  “It’s Marvin Laraby.”

  In the street below, the stream of life continued to flow. People wandered back and forth, interacting, touching other people’s lives, perhaps once, perhaps as a daily ritual. But Domenic Jejeune’s mind was not on them. It was moving back into the past; ahead, to what this news might mean for the future. His future.

  Lindy’s voice jolted him back to the present. “Are you still there? I don’t think you can read anything into this, Dom. As Danny understands it, Laraby just happened to be available. As soon as you get back, he’ll be given the old heave ho and everything will be as you were. I just thought you should know, that’s all.”

  Lindy hadn’t said she thought he would like to know. A good journalist chose her words carefully.

  “It’s okay,” said Jejeune easily. “Like you said, by the time I get back, Laraby will probably have the case wrapped up and be on his way. Whatever else he might be, Marvin Laraby is a very good detective.”

  There was another beat of silence as Lindy digested this. Or perhaps listened for something else.

  “Listen,” said Jejeune finally. “If it’s okay, I’m going to get going. I want to have a shower and get some food. I’ve got some studying to do. The birds of Colombia await, and I want to be primed and ready to seek them out.”

  Lindy let the phone rest in her hand a long time after Jejeune ended the call. He was good at a lot of things, Domenic, but false levity wasn’t one of them. The birds of Colombia might be awaiting him, but she knew he was likely to be considerably less primed and ready to seek them out now he knew Marvin Laraby had just re-entered his life.

  6

  Marvin Laraby stood at the front of the incident room in Saltmarsh Police Station, tall and straight-backed. He had his hands in the pockets of his suit trousers, flaring his jacket back behind him like a small cape. He held his head back slightly as he stared out over the assembled officers. A man who enjoyed looking life in the eye, the posture said. It added to an overall attitude that told you he had probably already faced most of the things you were likely to encounter in the course of your career, and you could trust him to steer you right when you needed him to.

  “Now, I can appreciate you’re all used to working under the watchful eyes of the media, whenever there’s a high profile case in this part of the world.” He paused a moment. “There’s a lot to be said for that. Every time the DCS is required to brief the Directorate of Public Affairs for a press release, that’s another opportunity to shine a spotlight on a case, another chance that a member of the public will come forward with useful information. But I might as well tell you right off, I don’t seem to attract that kind of media attention myself.” There was a faint glimmer of something in his deep-set eyes, though he didn’t allow it to reach his face. “So what I do instead is make sure the little bits get done properly — checking alibis, verifying details, interviewing witnesses. Bit of a nuisance, I know, all that note-taking, and not very flash, but the thing is, in most of the cases I’ve worked, and in all of the big ones, getting a result has depended on it. No magic, no clairvoyance, no intellectual gymnastics, just people doing their jobs properly. So while it’ll be a bit of a change of pace for the next little while, if you’re as good as the DCS tells me you are, I’m sure none of you will have much trouble adjusting.”

  Laraby paused and looked around the room, waiting for someone to contradict him. No one did. From the open doorway, DCS Shepherd nodded appreciatively. There were a lot of ways to get the opening gambit of a temporary assignment wrong. Striking a tone that found the sweet spot between authority and approachability was a rare skill. The way he seemed to have instantly struck a rapport with the troops went some way toward helping Shepherd understand why DI Marvin Laraby was in the running for promotion to DCI the next time an opening came up.

  The sound of Laraby clapping his hands together echoed round the room. “Right, let’s get to it, then. So how do you want to go about this? I tell you what I think, you tell me where I’m wrong, and we take it from there?”

  “Sergeant Maik usually leads us through the briefing,” Salter said, looking around the room as if for confirmation. Maik had readied himself to stand when he caught sight of Laraby’s upraised palm.

  “Why don’t you do it, Constable? You were at the scene both times. You’ve done the backgrounds. I’m sure the sergeant wouldn’t mind you taking centre stage for once. Besides, female victim, a female officer’s perspective on this can’t hurt.” He flashed a flat grin that came to rest in an empty space somewhere between himself and Danny.

  Salter flickered an uncertain glance at Maik, and then at Shepherd. Maik was impassive, but the DCS eased herself up off the door jamb. “Why not, Constable? After all, for once we seem to have a viable line of inquiry.”

  Laraby nodded. “On the face of it.”

  Shepherd’s expression suggested she might have preferred something a bit more unequivocal from Laraby. But given the normal lack of any sort of input from Domenic Jejeune at these briefings, she undoubtedly looked upon Laraby’s contribution as something of a bonus anyway.

  Salter ran over the findings as she had related them to Laraby in the cottage the day before. She ended on a hesitant note that had both Laraby and Shepherd looking at her.

  “There was a figurine in the room, a yellow bird with black wings. It looks expensive but the killer didn’t bother with it.” She paused and looked around a little. “The thing is, the plaque said the bird was from Norfolk but I’m pretty sure it isn’t.” She shrugged. “It’s probably nothing, but …” But they’d been taught to look at probably nothings before, especially ones concerning birds.

  “I can’t see that it’s worth a formal line of inquiry.” Shepherd surveyed the room briefly to see if anyone had a different opinion. “But if you wanted to have a look at it, I’m sure nobody would object.” She turned to Laraby. “Anything come of that lead you called me about on your way to the site? Something about cat hairs on the victim’s clothing?”

  Laraby shook his head and cast a significant glance at Maik. “That’s gone down the crapper, I’m afraid.” A slight pulse of unease passed through the room and Laraby inclined his head slightly. “Apologies, ladies and gentlemen. It’ll take me a bit of time to get used to the genteel ways of the countryside.”

  But it was not the vernacular that had them off-kilter. The SOCO team hadn’t given him the information about the cat hairs, so if he knew about them on his way out to the site, that left Mansfield Jonus. But the Saltmarsh forensic medical examiner was notoriously cagy about releasing information until he had concluded his findings. Whether Laraby had obtained these early details through intimidation or persuasion, it was an impressive feat for someone who had only just got his highly polished brogues under Jejeune’s desk.

  “Okay, let’s look at our victim, Ms. Dawes. That armchair she was found in. It was all set up to watch the goings on of the world outside. Any chance she nosed in on something that might have gotten her in trouble? I’ve heard about these seaside villages. All sorts of naughtiness going on behind the curtains. Anything to suggest she made a habit of knowing what her neighbours were up to? Any disputes on file?”

  Salter shook her head. “Nothing at all. Erin Dawes seems to have been a polite
neighbour who mostly kept to herself. Quiet, unassuming.”

  “Good job she didn’t live in her parent’s basement, or I might have been looking at her as a serial killer, with a profile like that,” said Laraby. “How about her work? She was an accountant. Could she have uncovered some dodgy financials belonging to one of her clients?”

  Once again, there was an uneasy shifting in the room. Shepherd watched with interest as the swell of discomfort drifted in Salter’s direction. The constable was the one who seemed to have all the rapport with the new DI. It was going to be up to her to voice their misgivings. “So you don’t think the motive was burglary, sir?”

  Laraby’s expression suggested it might be a bit early in the proceedings to be telling them what he thought.

  “This investment group she was a part of, what do we know about them?” Maik asked.

  Salter looked uncomfortable at this reversal of roles, this running the show while Danny Maik stayed on the sidelines and asked questions. She consulted her notes, though nobody really believed she needed to. “It appears the IV League was formed to purchase shares in a tech sector company called the Picaflor Project. It’s a fairly new enterprise but it seems to be doing very well. Three of the IV League members contributed fifty thousand pounds each, and the fourth contributed land of equivalent value.”

  “Land? What for?” Both Shepherd and Maik looked like they were ready to pounce, but Laraby was first in with the question.

  “No idea, but the payments were used to buy options on two hundred thousand pounds worth of shares in Picaflor, at very preferential rates.”

  “We should have a word with other investors in this IV League,” said Laraby decisively. “Do we know who else was in the group?”

  “Gerald Moncrieff, Amelia Welbourne, and Robin Oakes. All three are … local.”

  Danny Maik had a formidable stare when he chose to use it. This new man’s was something different, softer, and yet at the same time equally compelling. It held enough inquiry to have Salter faltering slightly.

  “It seems like a bit of an odd mix, that’s all. They’re all members of what you might call the local landed gentry. Well-to-do, a bit upper class, if I’m being honest. Sergeant Maik thought …”

  “… it might be something worth looking at,” completed Maik. “It’s heady company for an accountant from a modest background.”

  Laraby nodded thoughtfully. “I assume Dawes is the one who contributed the land in lieu of the funds.”

  “No, sir,” said Salter. “It was Robin Oakes. Erin Dawes appears to have paid in the fifty thousand along with Welbourne and Moncrieff.”

  Laraby’s expression showed interest as well as surprise. “Okay, the sergeant and I will go to see what this Robin Oakes’s land contribution is all about. In the meantime, let’s get full backgrounds on all the principals. And listen, one more thing. Any result we get on this is going to belong to each and every one of us in this room, no matter where the final breaks come from, so let’s work together, yeah? Make sure you share everything, make sure everybody is in the know with what you’re doing, what you’re thinking, where you’re taking your investigations.”

  Shepherd watched Laraby from the doorway as he gathered up his notes and walked over to consult with Maik prior to them heading out. Leading from the rear, they called it, showing them he didn’t mind being in the shadows as long as they got the result they were looking for. Even in the short time he had been there, it was clear to the others that Laraby was one of them. It was no wonder so many top brass still considered working one’s way up through the ranks to be the preferred method of reaching the senior levels. Unless, of course, you had the helpful hand of the Home Secretary to guide your progress. She smiled to herself. She was being a bit unfair to Jejeune. He certainly had his own talents, and if she suspected that, even at this early stage, Laraby might win the People’s Choice award, Domenic possessed detective abilities that were, as far as she was aware, unmatched anywhere in the police service. And since policing was not now, and never had been, a popularity contest, she knew where her own preferences lay. But it had been an impressive debut, nevertheless, and if Marvin Laraby’s results matched his performance today, he would certainly be one to watch.

  7

  The sweep of the encircling mountains was barely visible through the early morning haze, a signal that, if the temperature was pleasant enough now, another warm day awaited the residents of Bogota. Domenic Jejeune sat on the rooftop terrace of his hotel, looking out over the haphazard tapestry of tiles and corrugated sheets that made up the roofscape of the city. Here and there, the canopy of a green tree pushed up through the mass like a weed through a patch of concrete. Below him, the city was slowly awakening, but the noise levels were still muted, and from somewhere an unfamiliar bird call drifted up to him. Unfamiliar. These birds, this place. Unfamiliar, too, was this feeling of impulsiveness, of acting without really understanding his motives. He wondered where it might lead.

  Jejeune took a slow sip of his coffee and watched the Eared Doves effortlessly riding the updrafts. All around the perimeter of the terrace, plants Lindy struggled to nurture in tiny pots at home spilled from terracotta planters in luxurious abundance. At a table on the far side, the other six birders Jejeune had seen in the bar the previous evening were enjoying an animated discussion. They were from Barcelona, and although they had made friendly gestures to him as they passed, the gravitational pull of their mother tongue drew them inevitably toward each other’s company.

  Armando was at the head of the table, his back to Jejeune. From here, the detective could see the colourful web of tattoos that spiralled up the guide’s arms. Jejeune thought about Lindy and her tattooed man. He remembered the moment of her return to the cottage, how delicate and fragile her body felt, like a bird’s egg, as he enfolded her in his embrace. He was a long way away, and the world was filled with such dangerous and unpredictable things. Lindy was bright and resourceful, but she was also effortlessly beautiful and appealing. It wasn’t difficult to imagine her attracting the wrong kind of attention. He felt the urge to protect her well up in him. But protect her from what?

  A hand on his shoulder startled him from his thoughts, and he heard a low voice behind him, close to his ear. “Hey meester, you wan’ buy some Colombian product. Bery good, bery stron’. ”

  The pathetic predictability of the approach caused a wave of despair to rise in Jejeune. He was disappointed, too. Colombians were fully aware of their country’s reputation, and everything he had read suggested the citizens were diligent and alert for behaviour that reinforced such negative stereotypes. He turned to decline with a suitably regretful smile, but his expression morphed into one of shock as he looked at the speaker. “I knew you’d find suitable employment one day,” he said with a delighted smile.

  “That’d be a ‘no’, then?” asked Juan “Traz” Perez, setting his coffee cup on the table and settling into the chair across from Domenic’s.

  “What are you doing here?” asked Jejeune warily as he sat. As delighted as he was to see his old college friend, he had already rejected the idea that this was a chance meeting. Met anyone interesting? “Lindy,” he said.

  Traz looked sheepish. “She told me you were coming here and I thought it was about time I did some birding in Colombia myself. Lots of endemics down here. Besides, I’ve heard your attempts at Spanish before. How far you gonna get around here telling the waiters they’ve got a grassy arse every time they bring you a beer?”

  “Lindy asked you to look after me?”

  Traz nodded solemnly. “She’s paying me two hundred dollars a day, plus expenses. I got the rate from The Rockford Files,” he said, conjuring memories of the detective series whose reruns, along with pizza and beer, had been a staple of Friday nights in the two men’s college dorm.

  In lieu of a response, Jejeune tipped his ear toward the same unfamiliar call as before.

  “Great Thrush,” said Traz, sipping his coffee. “Bett
er learn that one in a hurry. You’ll be hearing a lot of it.” He nodded at the Field Guide to the Birds of Colombia on the table in front of Jejeune. “You’re going to need something better than that first edition, too. Luckily, I’m the kind of friend who thinks about such things. I picked you up a brand new copy of the second ed.” He paused and looked at Jejeune significantly. “Of course, all this presupposes that you are actually down here for the birding.”

  Jejeune looked at his good friend across the top of his coffee cup. Domenic Jejeune was not inclined to deceive Traz, but it would have been a waste of time in this case anyway. The man across from him could read him as well as anyone he had ever known, Lindy included.

  “Your name, this country, this tour company. You don’t need to be Jim Rockford to work this one out, JJ. Nobody is going to think this is a coincidence.” Traz reverted easily to Jejeune’s college nickname, as if the years had simply fallen away. “I don’t know what you’re hoping to find, but everybody will know this trip is not just about the birds.”

  “It is for now,” said Jejeune simply. “What else did Lindy tell you?”

  “She said if you wear black socks with shorts and sandals, I have her permission to shoot you.” Traz looked directly at his friend, his dark eyes unblinking. He let his gaze rest on him. There are places neither of us want this conversation to go, it seemed to say. But I’ll tell you if you ask.

  Domenic returned Traz’s stare. He knew once he had crossed the threshold of knowledge, he could never go back. He chose to stay in his illusory state of denial, for the moment at least. He let his eyes drop, and then raised them again quickly at the sound of a scraping chair.

  “May we join you?”