Murder in the Caribbean

by Robert Thorogood

  ‘Well, never mind.’

  ‘But I don’t understand. I just said we did—’

  ‘Anyway, thanks for your help. I’ll just have to see if I can get the rubies elsewhere,’ Richard said, hanging up the phone.

  He then leant back in his chair and sighed. To anyone listening, it would have sounded like a sigh of frustration, but it was anything but. It was a sigh of deep satisfaction.

  ‘Got you,’ Richard thought to himself. ‘Got you.’

  The following morning, Richard’s team were in place in the station at 8am. As arranged, Richard entered at 8.01am sharp.

  ‘Good morning, sir!’ Fidel said

  ‘Good morning, Fidel,’ Richard said brightly.

  ‘You seem to be in a good mood, Chief,’ Dwayne said.

  ‘I am, Dwayne. Because I’ve realised our killer has made one terrible mistake.’

  In truth, Richard and his team had planned this whole conversation the night before, when Richard had returned to Catherine’s bar after working out who the killer was – not that he’d yet told them the murderer’s identity. At the time he’d said he had his reasons, although his team guessed that those reasons were basically because their boss was a control freak. But then, if truth be told, they’d been so amazed that he’d solved the case that they’d been happy to go along with everything he then suggested – including creating a charade for the killer’s benefit the following morning.

  ‘The killer’s made a terrible mistake?’ Dwayne asked with strange amateur dramatic emphasis, and Richard held up his palms to suggest that Dwayne should dial his performance down.

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘Then what is it?’ Camille asked.

  ‘Well, it’s obvious,’ Richard said. ‘They’ve not considered the teachings of Edmond Locard.’

  Now it was Camille’s turn to wonder if Richard was perhaps enjoying his moment in the spotlight too much.

  ‘What’s that?’ Fidel asked.

  ‘Edmond Locard, the French criminologist. He created the very first forensics lab, and he came up with the principle that it was impossible for a criminal to enter and then leave a crime scene without leaving some trace behind, be it DNA, blood, hair, dirt on a shoe, or whatever. And it was impossible for them to leave without taking something of the crime scene with them. That’s why it’s called the exchange principle.’

  ‘Are you quoting a Frenchman?’ Camille asked, realising that she was happy to follow her boss into this particular conversational cul-de-sac.

  ‘I know, Camille, but these are dark days and desperate times call for desperate measures.’

  ‘Then tell me more about Edmond Locard, sir. He sounds fascinating.’

  ‘It only occurred to me last night,’ Richard said. ‘But the first two murder scenes were next to impossible to revisit, even if we’d wanted to. After all, Conrad’s boat exploded – which hardly facilitates a deep forensic analysis of the scene, seeing as so much of it is still on the sea bed. And Conrad’s study – and Jimmy’s office for that matter – are both full of physical evidence from countless numbers of people. It would be next to impossible to separate the known DNA or other clues from all of the other people who’d been in those rooms before. And if forensics found anything that identified the killer, I’m sure he’d have been able to explain it away.’

  ‘So what about the crypt, sir?’ Camille said, deciding to move the conversation on.

  ‘Well, that’s where it gets more interesting, Camille. Because I remembered last night that Stefan had said that no-one had been inside the crypt for a number of years – and that means that there’d be next to no forensic evidence from other people to confuse the scene. To all intents and purposes, we can say that the crypt is a blank canvas. And that’s where our friend Edmond Locard comes in. Because the killer will have left DNA at the scene. A single drop of saliva. Or a strand of hair. Or even a fingerprint, if we’re lucky. But he must have left some forensic evidence at the scene. And unlike the other scenes, these slender traces won’t be hidden amongst all the other forensic evidence of the other people who’d previously contaminated the scene.’

  ‘But, sir,’ Fidel said, knowing that it was his turn to ask the next question. ‘We aren’t set up for a deep forensic sweep of the crypt. It’s like we said yesterday. We don’t have the facilities.’

  ‘And that’s why I spoke to the Commissioner last night,’ Richard said, even though he and everyone else in the room knew this was a lie. ‘He then spoke to his counterpart on Guadeloupe and I can inform you all that, for the first time in the history of the island, a crack team of Forensic Analysts are travelling to Saint-Marie this afternoon.’

  ‘They are?’ Dwayne said in theatrical amazement.

  ‘And they’re going to collect every leaf, speck of dirt and hair from the crypt and take it back to Guadeloupe for fast-track analysis. No expense spared. And once they’ve discounted the physical evidence we and Pierre left at the scene, I think it’s fair to say that whatever is left over will belong to our killer. It’s the first concrete evidence we’ll have that categorically reveals our killer’s identity.’

  ‘But that’s brilliant news,’ Fidel said.

  ‘It is,’ Richard said, putting his finger to his lips as he spoke and silently indicating with his other hand that Fidel and Camille should prepare to leave the station with him. ‘This afternoon, after the Forensics team arrive from Guadeloupe, we’re going to be able to collect the physical evidence that will ultimately put our killer in jail. I’m sure of it.’

  Camille and Fidel got up, careful to be as quiet as possible, and they joined their boss at the station door.

  ‘So I suggest we spend this morning trying to advance the case in whatever way we can. Then, as soon as the Forensics Team arrive from Guadeloupe, we’ll take them to the Morgan crypt in the cemetery.’

  As Richard said this, Dwayne gave a big thumbs up to them all, wishing them luck.

  ‘Then let’s get to work,’ Dwayne said.

  Richard, Camille and Fidel slipped out of the Police station silently.

  And with that, the trap was set.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  ‘Okay sir, so who are we waiting for?’ Fidel asked from inside the confined space of the mausoleum opposite the Morgan family crypt.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Richard said. ‘I believe it will all become clear very soon.’

  It had taken only ten minutes for Richard, Camille and Fidel to drive from the Police station, park in a lane near the back of the cemetery, and enter by a side gate. As agreed with Richard the night before, the cemetery groundsman was already waiting for them with the keys he possessed that opened the vaults nearest to the Morgan family crypt. It didn’t take Richard long to choose the building directly opposite the Morgans’, and he, Camille and Fidel had closed themselves inside it.

  As Richard had explained to his team the night before, if they announced that a crack Forensics team from Guadeloupe was coming to sweep the Morgan crypt for evidence the following afternoon, there was no way the killer would be able to resist cleaning or interfering with the scene before then. Exactly how, Richard wasn’t sure, but he was convinced they’d be able to catch the killer red-handed.

  All they had to do was wait.

  ‘But just to be clear, sir,’ Fidel said, still trying to work out exactly what they were doing inside a mausoleum, ‘you’re saying the killer is still out there?’

  For once, Richard didn’t mind Fidel’s questions. After all, they had nothing better to do.

  ‘Oh yes,’ he said. ‘The killer is still out there.’

  ‘Then I think I know who it is,’ Fidel said.

  ‘You do?’ Camille asked.

  ‘It’s about who has a motive, isn’t it?’

  ‘Always,’ Richard said without taking his eyes off the Morgan family crypt.

  ‘And as far as I can tell, there’s only one person who has a motive to want all of the original members of Pierre’s gang dead.�
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  ‘And who’s that?’

  ‘Stefan Morgan.’

  ‘Stefan?’ Camille said, surprised.

  ‘Think about it. His son would be alive today if the gang hadn’t robbed the jewellery store in London.’

  ‘And not just his son,’ Richard said. ‘His wife as well. She died of pneumonia within the year. Stefan’s been on his own since then.’

  ‘And he has cancer, doesn’t he? So he might feel he doesn’t have anything to lose. He wants Pierre and the rest of the gang dead before he dies himself. And the thing is, sir, he even went to the prison to see Pierre leave that morning. And that’s pretty crazed, isn’t it? But what if he then followed Pierre in his taxi and found out where he was staying? Stefan could then go back to Honoré and steal the Citroën, return to the halfway house, and get Pierre into his car.’

  ‘All of which makes perfect sense,’ Richard agreed. ‘Especially when we consider where Pierre was murdered – the Morgan family crypt. After all, it’s sweet justice to despatch your son’s killer only feet from where his dead body lies. And, just so you know, that is why Pierre was killed here. It’s entirely symbolic. But Stefan’s not the killer. Because he may have the cleanest motive of all to kill Pierre and his gang, but he has a cast iron alibi for the time of the murder of Conrad. He was on a different island, and having a full body scan. He didn’t call the mobile phone that set off the bomb.’

  ‘Oh,’ Fidel said, disappointed. And then he brightened up. ‘But you agree that Pierre’s murder here was important?’

  ‘It was of paramount importance.’

  ‘Then that’s a shame.’

  ‘It is?’ Camille asked.

  ‘It is. Because, there’s one other theory I’ve got. You know, if the killer isn’t Stefan Morgan.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Well, I think you’ll laugh.’

  ‘We won’t laugh,’ Camille said.

  ‘But I feel stupid.’

  ‘You shouldn’t. Should he, sir?’ Camille asked her boss.

  Richard reluctantly drew his eyes from the Morgan family crypt.

  ‘I can’t say whether anyone should feel stupid. But you’re right, Camille. We’re here for the duration. What’s your theory, Fidel?’

  ‘Well, sir, it’s not really even a theory. It’s more an observation.’

  ‘Then what have you observed?’

  ‘Well, the Commissioner was right, wasn’t he? We’ve looked at all of the suspects and realised that they couldn’t have been the killer – or, they’ve ended up being murdered, which kind of proves they weren’t the killer.’

  ‘Agreed,’ Richard said.

  ‘So maybe the person we’re looking for is someone we’ve never considered.’

  ‘Now that’s a very interesting theory,’ Richard said. ‘Go on.’

  ‘So I was thinking, what if one of the dead people was the killer?’

  ‘I’m sorry?’ Camille asked.

  ‘And that’s why we’d not considered them. Because we thought they’d been dead all this time. But they weren’t dead. They’d faked their death.’

  ‘But who could have faked their own death?’

  ‘Conrad Gardiner.’

  Camille looked at her boss, but he was looking out of the grille and had apparently stopped listening.

  ‘Conrad Gardiner?’ Camille said. ‘You mean, the first person who was murdered?’

  ‘But was he?’

  ‘Okay,’ Camille said. ‘So how could the first person killed be the killer after all?’

  ‘Well, for starters because he was the only person who knew how much trouble he was in. Wasn’t he?’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Well, Father Luc and Jimmy Frost had no idea that Conrad had spent all of Pierre’s cash. But Conrad’s known for nearly ten years. That’s ten years to worry, but it’s also ten years to plan. And all along we’ve been trying to square an impossible circle. Seeing as the murders could only have been planned after Conrad announced he’d spent all of the money, how come the killings always felt like they’d been planned in advance? You know, with the mobile phones, rubies and so on all bought beforehand. And the biggest clue of all that the murders were pre-planned was the robbery that wasn’t a robbery at Father Luc’s house weeks before Pierre even got out of prison.’

  ‘Okay, I’m listening,’ Camille said, surprised that Fidel was making such a cogent case. ‘Let’s say Conrad was behind the murders.’

  ‘Starting with his own apparent murder.’

  ‘But why would he pretend to kill himself?’

  ‘Because he wanted out. That’s what I’m thinking. After all the years of failure. His marriage was over, he’d have known that the moment he discovered his wife was having an affair. He had no job to keep him here. And he knew how angry Pierre would be when he discovered Conrad had spent all of his money. So he decided to do a vanishing act. We know he cleared out his bank account just a few days before his boat exploded. Don’t we?’

  ‘That’s true.’

  ‘And the thing is, do you remember what he loaded onto his boat on the morning it exploded?’

  ‘No. What?’

  ‘Philippe the harbour master said he helped Conrad get some scuba tanks onto his boat. But, when the Saint-Marie Dive School searched the sea bed directly under the explosion, they couldn’t find any scuba tanks anywhere. So how can that be?’

  ‘You think he swam off underwater?’

  ‘It’s a possibility, isn’t it? And if he did, the whole thing makes sense. All he had to do was smear some of his own blood down the back of the boat before he exploded it – making sure he left his fingerprints in the blood.’

  ‘You think he cut himself?’

  ‘If you’re trying to vanish permanently, I think there’s a lot you’d be prepared to do. Or maybe Conrad got a nurse or someone to take the blood from him painlessly. After all, he wouldn’t have needed much to create that smear on the boat. But once he’d set the scene, all he had to do was cut the fuel line so the engine compartment started to fill with petrol fumes. And then slip into the water wearing his scuba kit and swim off unseen. With a mobile phone in a dry bag of course. But he could then either briefly come to the surface so he could use his phone to set off the bomb, or maybe he just swam to the rocks at the mouth of the harbour. He could have climbed out, got his phone, and watched the explosion from there. Either way, once the boat went up, he could have dived back underwater and swam around the headland to Grand Anse beach next door. And then vanished.’

  ‘But what of his study?’ Camille asked.

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘If he was swimming off to a new life, how did he also manage to smash in the window of his study and leave a ruby after the boat exploded?’

  ‘Well, that’s the thing, what if he didn’t do it afterwards? Natasha said she never went into Conrad’s study, and we know the window wasn’t overlooked in any way. So maybe Conrad trashed the room the day before when Natasha was out, and then he set the scene with the ruby to be discovered after the murder. After all, none of the neighbours heard glass smashing that morning at any time, so maybe it was done before then.’

  Despite herself, Camille smiled.

  ‘I like it,’ she said.

  ‘But what about the rubies?’ Richard asked.

  ‘The rubies, sir?’

  ‘Seeing as we’ve never been able to find anyone on Saint-Marie who sold those rubies, how do you think Conrad got hold of them?’

  ‘Well, I was thinking about that. Maybe he bought them online.’

  ‘And yet, we found no evidence of Conrad making any online purchases.’

  ‘So maybe he went to another island? Or always owned them.’

  ‘Conrad’s not our killer,’ Richard pronounced. ‘Impressive though your theory is, Fidel. And you’ve identified another key point. These murders were indeed premeditated. But, despite the fact that we never found his body, I think Conrad was killed in the expl
osion that day. Although I’m sure you’re right when you say the reason he took out all of his money beforehand was because he was worried he’d maybe have to make a run for it once Pierre found out what he’d done. But it was only eight hundred dollars, it was hardly enough to start a new life. And I should add, if no scuba tanks were found on the sea bed after the explosion, well, it’s still possible that they’re trapped inside the parts of the hull that settled on the sand.’

  ‘But you think the murders were planned before Pierre got out of prison?’

  ‘I proved it yesterday when I spoke on the phone to the person who sold our killer the rubies.’

  Camille and Fidel were stunned.

  ‘You know where the rubies came from?’ Camille asked.

  ‘But who was it?’ Fidel asked. ‘Who sold him the rubies?’

  ‘Ah, and that’s where you’re making a fundamental error,’ Richard said. ‘No-one sold him the rubies.’

  Fidel looked at Camille to check he wasn’t mad.

  ‘But sir, you just said that you spoke to the person who sold him the rubies?’

  ‘That’s right, I did. But it wasn’t a him he sold the rubies to. It was a her.’

  ‘The killer’s a woman?’ Fidel said.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And she’s behind all of the murders?’

  ‘She is.’

  ‘But who is it?’

  ‘Wrong question. What you need to ask is, why are we currently staking out the Morgan family crypt?’

  ‘The killings have got something to do with André Morgan’s murder,’ Fidel said.

  ‘Exactly. In which case, who’s the one woman who we know is connected to André Morgan?’

  Camille got it first.

  ‘His girlfriend.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Richard said. ‘André’s father never knew her name, did he? In fact, we’ve never been able to identify her. Other than the fact that she’s been on the island somewhere ever since then.’

  ‘So what are we saying?’ Camille said, her mind racing. ‘Either Natasha or Blaise was André’s girlfriend twenty years ago?’