Murder in the Caribbean

by Robert Thorogood

  Richard and Camille detected a note of bitterness in Blaise’s voice.

  ‘And you really never thought to check up on him in his office?’

  ‘I’ve said. By this stage, I thought he’d gone out.’

  ‘So when did you realise he hadn’t?’

  ‘Well, just before I called the Police station. I was getting a bit fed up, if I’m honest. You know, I’d rung him a few times, but his phone was going through to voicemail. And then I decided to go to the gym. Just to have something to do. And when I went to the front of the house, I saw his car was still there. I couldn’t understand why. Because if his car was there all along, and my car was also there, then he couldn’t have gone out, could he? That’s when I went to his office to see if he’d maybe left me a note, and that’s when I . . . found him.’

  ‘Can you talk us through what happened?’ Camille asked.

  Blaise took a deep breath to steady herself.

  ‘Okay,’ she said when she was ready. ‘I went to his office. His door was open. That’s what puzzled me. He always has to have the air conditioning on inside, so why was the door open? But I went in, and he was just lying there. Behind the desk. And the blood . . . it was everywhere. That’s when I phoned you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Camille said, wanting to bring Blaise’s testimony to an end. ‘You don’t need to continue.’

  Blaise looked at the Police officer gratefully.

  ‘I see,’ Richard said, but it was clear from his tone that he wasn’t entirely happy with what he’d just heard.

  He turned his notebook over to a fresh page.

  ‘Mrs Frost, has anyone visited the house since 9pm last night?’

  ‘No. No-one visited at all yesterday. It was just Jimmy and me.’

  ‘Then perhaps you heard someone else go to your husband’s office at some stage? Either last night or maybe this morning?’

  ‘But I didn’t. And if someone did, I wouldn’t have heard. Jimmy’s office isn’t that near the house.’

  ‘Then perhaps you heard gunshots at some point after 9pm and before you found his body?’

  ‘That’s the thing. I didn’t hear anything. That’s what I’m saying. It must have happened while I was asleep.’

  ‘So you didn’t hear anything or see anything suspicious at all?’

  ‘I didn’t.’

  ‘Mrs Frost, did you kill your husband?’

  ‘What? No! How dare you! I may have not liked the man, but I wouldn’t ever kill him.’

  Realising what she’d just said, Blaise put her hand to her mouth in embarrassment.

  ‘I shouldn’t have said that,’ she said.

  ‘What do you mean, you didn’t like him?’

  ‘Does it matter? I had nothing to do with his death.’

  ‘We still need to know about your relationship with him,’ Richard said sternly.

  ‘Alright. I’m innocent. I’ve got nothing to fear. So yes, since you’re asking, I didn’t much like my husband.’

  ‘And why was that?’ Richard asked.

  ‘Where do you want me to start? He was controlling. He wouldn’t let me be myself. I mean, look at this house, do you think it’s how I’d do it up? I hate it.’

  Looking at Blaise’s bright red dressing gown and almost fluorescent blue gym clothes, Richard had to concede that Blaise was the only spot of colour in the entire room.

  ‘But Jimmy said he was the one who earned the money, he was the one who got to spend it. So he chose everything about this house. Can you imagine what that’s like for me? Even putting aside how horrible his taste is, I mean, I’m his wife. And I don’t even get to choose how the place looks that I’ve got to live in. This house is like a prison. It’s even in the colours of a prison. And if you think the decor inside the house is cold, it’s nothing compared to how cold Jimmy was inside. His surname was right. He’s frosty. And uncaring. Since you’re asking. He just did what he wanted and didn’t care about anyone else. And I’m sorry you have to hear it, but I could cope with him doing his own thing, or working every hour of the day – or for keeping such frightening company – but what I couldn’t cope with was the women.’

  ‘The women?’ Camille asked.

  ‘He’s one of those men who thinks he has to bed every woman he meets.’

  ‘He was adulterous?’

  ‘The whole time. And then he wouldn’t have sex with me.’

  Richard covered his sudden embarrassment by discovering he had a frog in his throat that he had to clear with a few coughs.

  ‘There, that’s better,’ he said, once he’d regathered what he hoped was a degree of gravitas. ‘Can I pick you up on something? You said your husband kept “frightening” company. What did you mean by that?’

  ‘He really doesn’t know?’ Blaise said to Camille, and Camille smiled sympathetically.

  ‘Mr Frost was known to have links to the criminal underworld,’ she told her boss.

  ‘I thought you said he was a property developer?’

  ‘He was a gangster,’ Blaise said, all of her anger suddenly spitting out of her. ‘Not that any of your lot ever caught him. He was too clever for that. But he was involved with rackets, with casinos, and I think he only ran his property business as a way of laundering money. For himself and other people. But what could I do? I’d married him, I was thousands of miles away from home, and let me tell you, even with him working so hard, and doing what he did, I look about myself here and think I’ve got it better here than I did back at home. So if you want to know who shot my husband dead, you’d better start asking his business partners and the people they worked for. Because in Jimmy’s world, when things go wrong, you don’t always survive.’

  ‘You think one of his business associates did this to him?’

  ‘Or someone he crossed. It could have been anyone. But if I were you, I’d start working out what he was up to professionally. Because I bet there are plenty of people out there who’d be capable of committing murder.’

  Richard got the distinct impression that Blaise was beginning to enjoy sticking the knife into her deceased husband.

  ‘And what about you?’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Are you involved in your husband’s work life?’

  ‘No way. I know what side my bread’s buttered. As I say, it’s not been a perfect life with him, but I’m not short of anything financially, if you see what I mean. And, before you ask, I don’t have any proof he was a crook. But I was his wife, so I can tell you he was a crook as far as I could tell. And the person who’s done this to him is someone from his world. It’s obvious.’

  ‘Okay,’ Richard said, and realised that he could possibly pin down whether Jimmy had been one of the people who’d visited Conrad on the day he was released from prison. ‘Can I ask, do you remember your husband’s movements last Monday?’

  Pierre had been released from prison on the Monday of the week before.

  ‘I’m not sure I know.’

  ‘Did he perhaps leave the house in the morning? Before 10am, let’s say?’

  ‘You know what, he did. This is last Monday? Yes, I remember, he left in his car at about nine in the morning, and didn’t come back until about 11pm that night.’

  ‘He was gone all day?’

  ‘That’s right, I’d been in bed for an hour or so when he got back, and he was blind drunk. He made such a racket as he got changed.’

  ‘Do you know where he’d been?’

  ‘It’s like I said. I never asked, but I guessed he’d not been with a woman. I can normally smell perfume on his clothes when he’s been with a woman.’

  ‘And how was his mood that day? Or in the few days beforehand?’

  ‘He was fine. Mind you, he’s been in a funk ever since then. You know, snappy. I just thought he was under pressure at work – but maybe you’re right,’ Blaise said with sudden enthusiasm. ‘Maybe whatever was worrying him since last Monday is the reason why someone shot him dead?’

  ‘Yo
u think it’s a possibility?’

  ‘I think it’s a very definite possibility. I’m surprised I didn’t make the connection sooner.’

  ‘Then can I ask, did you or your husband know Conrad Gardiner?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Conrad Gardiner.’

  Blaise thought for a moment, and then she realised something.

  ‘That was the poor man who died last week.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Why are you asking? Was his death connected?’

  ‘If you could just answer the question?’

  ‘Of course. And no, I’d never heard that name before his accident. But if his death is connected to my husband’s, then you should look into Conrad Gardiner’s background, because I bet you it’s dodgy as hell. He’ll be some hoodlum or something.’

  Richard looked at Blaise and realised that she was looking far more assured than she’d been at the beginning of the interview. It was almost as if previously she’d been nervous of taking a test, but now she felt as if she’d passed it with flying colours.

  ‘Can I ask you one final question? Do you have any idea why we found a plastic ruby at the scene of your husband’s death?’

  ‘A ruby?’ Blaise said, nonplussed.

  ‘That’s right. A fake ruby.’

  ‘Well, it’s not one of mine, I can tell you that much. All my jewels are real.’

  ‘You really have no idea why the person who did this would have left behind a ruby?’

  ‘Of course not. Why would anyone do that?’

  It seemed a fair enough response, so, thanking Blaise for her time, Richard and Camille left the house and returned to the Police station.

  ‘Well, I can’t say that Blaise Frost is your typical grieving widow,’ Richard said as he wrote the words ‘Jimmy Frost’ and ‘Blaise Frost’ on the whiteboard.

  ‘You can say that again,’ Camille agreed. ‘But you know what, if she was involved in her husband’s death, I think she’d have bothered to get herself an alibi. And I’m not sure she’d so happily admit to hating her husband.’

  ‘The same thing occurred to me,’ Richard said, a bit miffed that Camille was stealing his investigative thunder.

  ‘But seeing as she’s the wife, I’m sure she benefits directly from her husband’s death. He was a very wealthy man.’

  ‘Yes, I was going to say that as well, you know.’

  ‘So if she has a motive and the opportunity—’

  ‘Did she have the means?’ Richard said, jumping in. ‘Although, it’s not that hard to get yourself a gun on the island.’

  ‘If you know where to go, and who to ask. And if your husband is a crook, I bet she knows where to go and who to ask.’

  ‘So – theoretically – we’re saying we could make a case against her for killing her husband. But the ruby we found at the scene suggests that Mr Frost’s murder is related to Conrad’s. In fact, it suggests very strongly to me that Pierre Charpentier has indeed struck again. He killed Conrad, and now he’s killed Jimmy.’

  ‘But how can we prove that Jimmy was a member of Pierre’s gang?’

  ‘Well, Blaise told us she met Jimmy when he visited London twenty years ago – which is when we know the robbery happened.’

  ‘And he told her there were four of them in on the deal, didn’t she?’

  ‘Indeed. Just as there were four members of the gang.’

  ‘We’ll just have to hope Fidel or Dwayne can find something at the murder scene that links Jimmy to Pierre.’

  ‘Indeed. But in the meantime, I’d like you to start digging into Jimmy’s background, and see if you can definitively prove whether or not he was a member of Pierre’s gang twenty years ago. And while you’re doing that, I’ll check on Blaise Frost. To make sure she really is as innocent as she claims.’

  Richard went to his desk and started working, but he was soon frustrated. There seemed to be very little information on Blaise Frost that he could establish. She’d not held down a job or ever filed taxes for the whole time she’d been on the island. As for her bank accounts, she received a regular income from her husband. It was sizeable, and there were also a number of credit and store cards, but she paid off her debts every month. Money clearly wasn’t an issue. As for her lifestyle, Richard saw from her bank statements that she spent most of her time at the Saint-Marie Country Club, and most of her money on clothes and shopping. It was all somewhat vacuous, but hardly criminal.

  And yet Richard couldn’t shake the feeling that Blaise should have been more upset about her husband’s death. There was no doubting she’d been upset to start off with, but as the interview with the Police had continued, she’d very obviously relaxed. Why was that?

  As for proving whether or not Jimmy had been part of the original gang who had stolen the jewels, while Richard waited for Camille to finish her own research, he realised that there was someone on the island who might know the answer.

  Richard picked up the phone and dialled the number for Conrad’s widow, Natasha. After all, she’d told the Police how her husband had confessed everything to her. And although she claimed she didn’t know who the other members of the gang were, maybe she’d change her tune if he named Jimmy Frost?

  ‘I’m sorry?’ Natasha said on the other end of the line when Richard asked her if she knew Jimmy or Blaise Frost.

  ‘I don’t know her,’ Natasha said after Richard had repeated his question, ‘but Jimmy was a friend of Conrad’s. Why are you asking?’

  ‘Can you please tell me about Mr Frost’s relationship with your husband?’

  ‘I don’t know what it was, but I didn’t like it. They’d see each other from time to time. For a drink. Or a game of poker.’

  ‘Why didn’t you like it?’

  ‘Everyone knows Jimmy Frost is a crook. I didn’t like him spending any time with Conrad. Why are you asking?’

  ‘Is it possible Jimmy Frost was one of the original gang who robbed the jewellery store?’

  ‘Jimmy?’ Natasha sounded shocked. ‘I don’t think so. Why would he need to rob a jewellery store? He’s rich.’

  ‘He’s rich now. But maybe he wasn’t in the past.’

  ‘Well, I’m sorry, I wouldn’t know about that. I’ve barely met the man. But can I ask, why all this sudden interest in Jimmy Frost?’

  Richard explained how Jimmy had just been found shot dead.

  ‘But he can’t be dead!’ Natasha blurted, and Richard’s instincts spiked.

  ‘What makes you say that?’

  There was another pause on the phone, and Richard got the impression that Natasha was thinking fast. When the silence had lasted a good ten seconds or so, Richard repeated the question.

  ‘Was there a ruby found by his body?’ Natasha asked.

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t possibly comment.’

  ‘But there was a ruby, wasn’t there?’ Natasha said, her voice rising in panic. ‘Are you saying Pierre killed him as well?’

  ‘It’s still early days,’ Richard said, but Natasha interrupted him.

  ‘I’m sorry, I can’t continue this call, this is all too upsetting. I’m going to hang up now, and please don’t call again.’

  Natasha hung up, and Richard found himself wondering what exactly it was about Jimmy’s death that Natasha had found so upsetting. After all, if she hardly knew him, it shouldn’t have been that shocking. Richard wanted to interrogate this thought further, but he was interrupted by the return to the Police station of Dwayne and Fidel. They were each carrying cardboard boxes full of Jimmy’s personal effects.

  ‘Okay, Chief, we’ve finished at the Frost house,’ Dwayne said.

  ‘And what did you find?’ Richard asked.

  ‘Well, sir, the glass to the sliding door was covered in fingerprints,’ Fidel said. ‘And I picked up a fingerprint on the fake ruby you found in the deceased’s mouth.’

  ‘You did?’ Richard asked.

  ‘I’ll see if it matches the prints we’ve got on record for Pierre C
harpentier.’

  ‘Please do. Although, seeing as we didn’t find his fingerprint on the first ruby, I’d imagine it’s not his print on the second.’

  ‘Let me see what I can find.’

  ‘Then what about you, Dwayne? What have you got in the boxes?’

  ‘Whatever files, keys, bank statements and so on we could find. And the deceased’s laptop and mobile phone. Although I can tell you already, this man has dozens of bank accounts. And with a lot of cash in them all. He’s seriously wealthy.’

  ‘But you’ve got his mobile phone?’

  ‘I have.’

  ‘Does Jimmy have his email account on his phone?’

  ‘Sure does, Chief,’ Dwayne said, getting out Jimmy’s phone. ‘It’s got everything. A calendar, his emails, everything. It’s synchronised to his main computer as far as I can tell.’

  ‘Good,’ Richard said. ‘Can you do a search on Jimmy’s phone for the name Conrad Gardiner? Maybe they’ve been in touch.’

  ‘No problem,’ Dwayne said as he started typing into the phone. Not long after, he shook his head. ‘Nothing’s coming up.’

  ‘Then search for “Natasha”,’ Richard said, remembering how Natasha’s reaction to the news that Conrad had died had seemed a touch off.

  Dwayne typed again, and again shook his head.

  ‘He’s not emailed or texted anyone called Natasha. Or received any messages from anyone called Natasha, either.’

  Richard harrumphed at this news, but he didn’t want to give in. There had to be something incriminating in his emails.

  ‘Then what about Pierre Charpentier?’

  Dwayne typed again, and this time he didn’t look up from the phone.

  ‘Oh, okay, that was the right call,’ he said, as he started to scroll up and down on the screen with his finger.

  ‘What is it? What have you got?’ Richard asked.

  ‘He’s not been in touch with him, not as far as I can tell, but his web history over the last week has been full of hits for Pierre Charpentier. He’s been looking up the old newspaper reports on the robbery in London. And would you believe it, he also did an internet search, “Pierre Charpentier Saint-Marie Prison” on the morning that Pierre was released. It took him to the Justice Department’s website, and the list of what prisoners are leaving at what date.’