by Elise Noble
“Toxicology report’s on its way,” she said. “I’m no expert, but y’all’re gonna want to take a look at it.”
Dammit. We’d have to take a rain check on the fun stuff.
CHAPTER 24 - BLACK
“HALOTHANE?” EMMY SAID. “Isn’t that an anaesthetic?”
Seemed they’d had a slow day at the lab because they’d tested for everything. And Carmela Conti’s blood had contained enough halothane to knock her out twice over.
“Yes, it is, although it’s fallen out of favour in recent years.”
Black had expected alcohol, or perhaps hash, not a general anaesthetic. But it made sense. One good whiff of that, and she’d have been oblivious to whatever came next.
“So who would have access to it? Doctors? Because that would fit with the surgeon’s knot.”
“Yes, it would. Halothane’s still widely used in hospitals in the developing world, but not in the US or Europe. And veterinarians use it too.”
“There’s a vet in Assalah Square—the one who checked the rabbit over. Perhaps others too. We should ask Bob.”
“And three hospitals—one government and two private.” Black had driven past them all on his trips around town. “But you know the problem here?”
“Everything’s for sale if you’ve got enough cash?”
“Precisely.” And if a hospital employee had been selling drugs for a few extra bucks, they were hardly likely to admit it. This case had too many questions and not enough answers. “We need to make a list of everyone with hospital or veterinary connections and cross-reference it with everything else.”
“Carmela and Gosia both had hospital connections, remember?” Emmy said. “Gosia had her arm pinned, and didn’t Carmela have her cheek X-rayed after the door incident? They were both pretty. Any chance they could have caught the eye of the same rogue doctor?”
A possibility, although Gosia’s broken arm was an old injury. “Something else to check.”
Khaled and his buddies would have a busy week, and so would Black. The young private was keen but green, and without supervision, the methodical approach went out the window. Still, if it got them closer to catching a murderer, the effort would be worth it.
He carried Emmy to bed and pulled her close, her back to his front, her wet blonde hair spread out across a towel on the pillow.
“Love you, Diamond,” he whispered as his eyes closed.
“Love you too, Chuck.”
If only Black had known what the morning had in store for them, perhaps he wouldn’t have slept quite so soundly that night.
A ringing phone woke Black, and for a moment, he considered turning it off and going back to sleep. Then it stopped and started again straight away.
“Tell them to get lost,” Emmy murmured.
“It might be important.”
“Sleep is important. Your dick is important. Breakfast is important.”
He kissed her on the temple and rolled out of bed to take the call in the living room. This had better be good.
“Bones! There are bones!” Khaled half shouted. “Everywhere there are bones!”
What was he talking about?
“You’re going to have to explain.”
Black heard the cop suck in a breath. “From the mountains. They came with the water.”
“The rain washed bones down from the mountains?”
“Yes!”
“What kind of bones? Animal or human?”
“The doctor from the government hospital is coming, but some of them look like the bones we found before.”
“Have you got photos?”
“Yes, yes, I will send them. I have to go—Captain al-Busari has just arrived.”
There were plenty of mammals in the mountains—goats, foxes, the odd camel—but would Khaled get their bones confused with a human’s? Black had a bad feeling about this.
“What’s up?” Emmy called from the bedroom.
“It’s possible more bones have washed down from the mountains. Want to go take a look?”
“Why not? Hold on a second…” A second turned out to be long enough for Black to fill the coffee machine and set it going. “Yup, the pictures are already on Twitter.”
Of course they were. Social media worked faster than the police these days. “Let’s see.”
Three femurs, a skull, part of a pelvis… Since they’d found both of Gosia’s femurs—or at least, he’d assumed they’d both belonged to Gosia, something he was kicking himself for now considering the number of times he’d warned his team never to assume anything—that meant at least two more victims. Four bodies. And a good chance they had a serial killer on the loose.
Fuck.
“How long has this been going on for?” Emmy muttered, echoing Black’s thoughts.
“When did it last rain this heavily? And if this is all the work of the same person, why did they change their method of disposal between Gosia and Carmela?” There he was, assuming again. “We need to review the missing persons list and see if there could’ve been another victim in between.”
“This is getting out of control.”
An epic understatement. By the time they got into town, there were cops everywhere, most of them wandering aimlessly. Captain al-Busari was standing on the bridge, shouting orders at a group of scuba divers who seemed to have been co-opted into searching the bay. Their tanks bore the logo of a local dive school. So much for bringing in a specialist team from Alexandria.
“Go! Go now!”
“Visibility’s terrible. The water’s full of silt, and we can only see a foot in front of our faces.”
“Then you will have to go down again!”
There didn’t seem to be much point in trying to explain the rules about bottom time and nitrogen narcosis to the captain at that moment, and judging by the roll of the divemaster’s eyes, he shared the same thought. Better to get out of the way, then have the argument later. He signalled to his team, and they descended beneath the waves.
Yellow tape cordoned off the evidence, fluttering in the breeze, strung between lampposts and signs advertising desert safaris and snorkelling trips. At first, Black thought it was crime scene tape, but on closer examination, he realised it said “Happy Birthday!” Talk about being under-equipped for the job.
“He’s not happy, is he?” Emmy said under her breath. No prizes for guessing who she meant.
“Because he can’t sweep this under the carpet anymore. Two bodies, he could write off as an accident and a suicide, but four? That’s stretching the bounds of believability.”
“Twitter’s blown up, and it’s all over Facebook. Mack’s sending me updates. Oh, and she said nobody apart from Selmi called Gosia on the twenty-seventh and you’d know what that means?”
“That was always a slim hope.”
“Plus Dan’s consulting with a forensic anthropologist about today’s bones to see if she can give us any information that’d help to identify their former owners.”
“Good.”
Black spotted Khaled standing on the steps of the supermarket with a colleague and went over to see if there was any more news.
“How’s it going?”
“The captain is very angry. It’s his daughter’s birthday today, and she’s supposed to be having a party.”
“What about the case?”
“We have found eleven bones near the bridge, but more could have fallen into the sea. Or washed along the street. The water was up to people’s knees late last night.”
As if on cue, a small boy walked up, palm held out. “Is this a bone you’re looking for?”
“Where did you find that?” Khaled asked.
“By the Mexican restaurant.”
The Mexican restaurant that Black still hadn’t gotten around to taking Emmy to. There and then, he vowed to take her on a proper vacation in the near future to make up for this one.
“Are there any more?”
The kid shrugged. “Maybe. There is mud everywhere.�
�
“This is mental,” Emmy whispered. “People are gonna start taking bones home as souvenirs if the police aren’t careful.”
“I’d offer our help again, but I’m not sure the captain would be receptive to that.”
“What do you call that colour he’s gone? Crimson? Scarlet?”
“Puce. I doubt we’ll get much help from Khaled today.”
“Yeah, he’s too busy guarding… Is that a scapula?”
“Looks like it. I need to talk to Gunther. Are you coming?”
Emmy opened her mouth to reply, but her phone rang before she could speak. She answered it instead.
“Really? I thought they weren’t coming until the afternoon? … Okay, I’m nearby, so I’ll pop over. See you in ten minutes.”
Black raised an eyebrow expectantly.
“The Spanish freedivers have arrived. They caught an early flight.”
“You speak to them, and I’ll find Gunther. Then we can regroup. I want to get a good look at the state of the hotel too. See if there’s any damage.”
“Sure.” Emmy stood on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek. “See you in a bit.”
CHAPTER 25 - BLACK
DEBRIS LITTERED THE high street from one end to the other, but people were already out with brooms, buckets, and hoses to clean up the mess. Around the corner known as the lighthouse, where a pair of derelict hotels bordered the promenade—victims of an inheritance dispute, Black had heard—the walkway was still covered with shit. Quite literally in some places, judging by the smell of it. The sewers didn’t cope too well with the storm either. Good thing he’d worn a pair of hiking boots.
Gunther was outside Happy Fish, sweeping as he directed a trio of staff to put trash into bags. He smiled when he saw Black. Seemed genuine, but it wouldn’t be the first time Black had come face-to-face with a liar.
“Much damage?” he asked.
Gunther paused, leaning on his broom. “It’s mostly cosmetic. Everything needs cleaning, but in this heat, it should dry out quickly.”
“No more rain forecast?”
Black already knew the answer, of course. He’d checked on three different weather apps before he left the villa.
“Not in the near future, thank goodness. Are you looking for something to eat? Because we won’t be opening the restaurant until the evening.”
“Actually, I have a couple of questions.”
“About Carmela?”
“About Gosia Kaminski, actually.” Black watched Gunther’s expression carefully, but it didn’t change. “I appreciate the timing isn’t the best, but we’re keen to follow up any leads relating to her disappearance, especially in light of this morning’s events.”
“What events?”
“You haven’t heard? A bunch of bones washed up near the bridge last night, and it looks as if some of them are human. Gosia’s still missing, so…”
Black let Gunther fill in the blanks, and this time, the man paled a shade or two. Shock at the possibility that more of his fellow townspeople had lost their lives? Or was it guilt? Surprise that the bodies had been discovered? Black only trusted two people in this town—his wife and Bob Stewart.
“You think the bones might be hers?”
“I think we need to keep an open mind. Questions are certainly going to be asked, so it’s good to stay ahead of the curve.”
“Well, I knew she was missing, obviously. Everyone did. Most people just assumed her boyfriend had something to do with it.”
“Really? Why’s that?”
“Gosia could be somewhat domineering, and Selmi was… What’s the word? Henpecked. Ja, that’s it. And when she vanished, he took over the business. It seems to be doing well. We still buy produce from him. Perhaps we shouldn’t have, but I’ve always believed in the premise of innocent until proven guilty.”
Sowing the seeds of a man’s guilt in one breath, then proclaiming his innocence in the next. Intentional?
“Nobody wants to see an innocent man go to jail, but at the same time, folks don’t want a murderer on the loose, do they? And we can’t ignore the fact that two young women have disappeared from a small town in a relatively short space of time.”
“And that’s why you’re here? In case the two deaths are connected?”
“Precisely. Which brings me to my questions. I’m trying to firm up the timeline of the last day Gosia was seen alive, and I understand she came to take an order for the restaurant.”
“I recall Selmi asking the same thing a few months ago. Ja, she did. It was a Tuesday, wasn’t it?”
Black pretended to check a note on his phone, even though he knew the details by heart. “Yes, a Tuesday. At a quarter past ten, you said.”
“That’s what Carmela told me.”
“Carmela?”
“Tuesdays are usually quiet, so Carmela looked after the place until the evening that day. When Selmi came over looking for Gosia, I asked Carmela, and that’s what she told me—that she spoke to Gosia and gave her the order around a quarter past ten. Although Carmela’s timekeeping was never so good. More than once, I had to speak to her about her lateness.”
“Was anyone apart from Carmela around at that time? What about the other waiters? Omar?”
“Omar didn’t work here back then. There was only the chef, but he was in the kitchen and he said he didn’t see her.”
It struck Black that this was all very convenient. The only witness to Gosia’s visit to Happy Fish was dead. There were two ways to look at it—firstly, Gunther could be lying, or secondly, there was another possible link between Gosia and Carmela.
“What time does the restaurant open?”
“Noon.”
“So Carmela was here early that day?”
“Once or twice a week, she came in beforehand to tidy. The new waitress isn’t so conscientious.” Gunther waved at the nearest table. “See? This salt shaker is almost empty.”
“I see. I’ll need to speak to the chef to confirm.”
For a moment, Gunther’s eyebrows pinched together in a frown, but he quickly nodded. “Of course. You’re right—nobody wants a murderer walking the streets of Dahab.”
“Where were you on that day?”
“Does it matter?”
“I’m just wondering whether you might have seen Gosia in town.”
“I wasn’t in town—my sister and her husband were staying with me, and we took a trip to Coloured Canyon. Maggie likes to take pictures of the wildlife in the desert.”
“Did you have a guide for this trip?”
“No, I drove. I’ve been there many times.”
Again, no witnesses. But then again, if Gunther had family staying, it would have been more difficult for him to commit murder unnoticed.
“How long did your sister and her husband spend in Dahab?”
“Actually, they’re still here. They fell in love with the place and decided to stay until spring. Winters in Europe can get so cold. Did you know it snowed in Germany last week?”
Yes. “Can’t say I did.”
“Do you want to speak to my sister as well?”
“Is she around?”
“Not today—she and Stefan went to Sharm el-Sheikh to renew their visas, and they couldn’t come back yesterday evening because of the rain. Apparently, there’s some damage to the road by the middle checkpoint.”
“I’d appreciate a call when she gets back.”
“Ja, of course. Was there anything else?”
Black handed over a business card with his number. “You mentioned taking Carmela to the hospital before she died. After she walked into a door?”
“Ja, for X-rays.”
“Can you recall who treated her? The doctor’s name?”
“Sorry, but nein. I waited for her outside in the car.”
“Why didn’t you go in?”
Gunther shuddered. “I don’t like hospitals. The smell of them makes me feel ill.”
What kind of lily-livered asshole left an injured
woman to deal with a hospital visit by herself?
“Which hospital was it?”
“The Dahab International Medical Center.”
The same place that had treated Gosia. So many puzzle pieces, but how did they all fit together?
“Interesting. Any chance I can speak to your chef now?”
The chef knew who Gosia was, but had no recollection of seeing her at the restaurant at the end of June. Black bade the pair of them goodbye and went to find his wife. She hadn’t called with any news, good or bad, so he headed for the Into the Blue Dive Centre. He’d always enjoyed freediving himself, although in his version of the sport, he didn’t go hand over hand down a rope in a sleek wetsuit and monofin like Dahab’s freediving cohort. No, in the Navy SEALs, freediving had consisted of trying not to die after jumping off a boat into a freezing sea. Just call him a masochist. It was character building, okay? He’d also made friends for life in the teams, and although he didn’t miss the bureaucracy one bit, he still sometimes wished he could relive those days again.
Although right at that moment, he’d have settled for a quick scuba trip or even a swim. No such luck, though.
He found Emmy in the dive centre, drinking coffee as she laughed and chatted in Spanish with a group of younger men. It didn’t escape Black’s notice that all four of the assholes had their gazes fixed on her chest, and he was tempted to remove their eyeballs, especially those belonging to the plumpest of the quartet, who was practically salivating.
“Hey!” She waved at him from her seat. “Do you want coffee? This is Mateo, David, Rodrigo, and Juan. Rodrigo reckons he knows Javier Martinez.”
Black squashed onto the seat beside Emmy and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Held each of the men’s gazes in turn as he kissed Emmy on the temple. Every one of them looked away.
“Tell me more. Which one of you is Rodrigo?”
The chubby guy gave a nervous cough. “I am.”
“How do you know Javier?”
“I met him here. Earlier in the year?” The prick seemed nervous. Black couldn’t think why. “We dived together, but Javier’s father died suddenly and he had to go back to Madrid.”
