‘Because, during our conversation the other night, you couldn’t help but reveal to me that you’ve been working as a shop assistant in a posh department store on Princes Street in Edinburgh. And what’s the one thing all posh department stores have? A haberdashery department. So, not really daring to believe that I was right, I called the haberdashery department of the only department store on Princes Street, and they told me that they did indeed sell fake rubies. By the way, how am I doing?’ Richard asked Amy, and he was gratified to see that her gun hand had lowered, although she still held the Zippo lighter high in her other hand.
‘Keep talking.’
‘Well, having announced your arrival with such a bang, the remaining murders were far more straightforward. You spied on Jimmy Frost until he went to his office late at night, got him to let you in, and then you shot him dead – making sure to leave a ruby behind which had one of Pierre’s fingerprints on. In case we really weren’t getting the message. And then you killed poor old Father Luc Durant, having broken into his house when you first got to the island and seen that he took sleeping pills to get to sleep. I wonder if that’s when you realised that you could use them on him to make it look like he’d committed suicide?’
‘I bet he was the easiest to kill,’ Camille said. ‘After all, he already agreed with you that he was guilty for André’s death. In some ways, I imagine he welcomed being blamed for it. But the thing is, he’s not really to blame for André’s death, is he? You are.’
This drew a sharp intake of breath from Fidel, and fury flashed in Amy’s eyes.
‘Not that you like to admit it. But it’s why you’ve kept yourself so busy planning these murders. Because the truth is, if you hadn’t persuaded André to go to London and take part in the heist, he’d still be alive today. Your perfect André. You’d have settled with him. Married him. Had children with him. But it wasn’t to be. Because of what you did.’
As Camille spoke, Richard was amazed to see tears start to sparkle in Amy’s eyes – the arm that was holding the lighter also seemed to waver – and Camille started to approach her slowly.
‘All those years of happiness you were denied. All because of one bad decision you made. You let Pierre into your life. A man you’ve now killed. You’ve got your revenge. It’s all you’ve dreamed of all these years. That’s what matters. Pierre’s gone. As are the other members of the gang. They’ve all gone. And now you’ve got no reason to hurt any more. André can rest in peace. His killer has been killed. It’s over, Amy. It’s over.’
And with that, Camille had ghosted so close to Amy that she was able to reach out lightning fast and grab the lighter with one hand, and Amy’s gun hand with her other. And, as she did so, Amy seemed to come out of her reverie and started to struggle to get free, but Fidel was up to her in a flash, knocking the gun from her hand and whipping out a pair of handcuffs that he fastened to her wrists.
And Richard stood rooted to the spot throughout it all.
Then, as Amy struggled to get free from Fidel and Camille, Camille called over to her boss, ‘Okay, sir, we need to get out of here, right now.’
Richard was still trying to catch up with events, but all he could think was, through her speed of thought and swift actions, Camille had just disarmed a woman who was holding a gun to them all. The thought popped into Richard’s mind that he could have kissed her in gratitude, although he was quick to squash it. But he could have hugged her, that felt more plausible. Not that he ever would, of course. He was sure that if he did, she’d arrest him for assault. And there was the small matter of the fact that they were already standing in a bunker that was full of petrol and a murderous woman who’d been intent on setting fire to it.
‘Sir! We need to get out of here.’
‘Yes. Of course, Camille,’ Richard said.
They had to get out of there, his partner was right.
There’s not a day I don’t think of him. André. Every day, he’s with me. The life we should have been having together. It was his idea I do this. Or at least he didn’t stop me when I planned it. And I think he looked over me. While I was getting everything ready. He was my guardian angel, making sure it went alright. And I know he was with me when I saw the rubies in the store. It just felt right to leave them with each body. Your boss was right. I wanted these to be famous murders. But there was something else to them as well. I wanted to frighten the rest of the gang. I wanted them to know they’d be next. And I thought I’d done it, I really did. Until I listened to that day’s recordings and learned how there was a specialist Forensics team coming in from Guadeloupe to sweep the crypt. I knew I had no choice. If no-one had been there for years, I couldn’t take any risks. I knew I’d have left a hair or something in there you’d be able to find. That’s why I was going to torch the place. But now it’s over, I don’t know how I feel. I’m not sure I feel anything apart from happy I did what I set out to do. The men who ruined my life are gone. Who’ve haunted me for twenty years. Who took André from me. Do you have any idea how that feels?
DS Camille Bordey: What about Dwayne?
Amy McDiarmid: What about him?
DS Camille Bordey: You used him.
Amy McDiarmid: So? He’s a copper. He can handle it. And he’ll know. We had good times.
DS Camille Bordey: You don’t care about what you’ve done at all, do you?
Amy McDiarmid: I’m sorry about Dwayne. I liked him.
(Tape switched off)
Interview of Amy McDiarmid terminated at 18.57pm
Everyone on the island of Saint-Marie was surprised at how quickly Dwayne seemed to recover from the discovery that his girlfriend had killed four men since he’d started dating her. There was obviously an element of denial and embarrassment that explained his desire to ‘move on’, but Dwayne returned to his usual levels of bonhomie with such aplomb that everyone genuinely believed he’d made a full recovery.
He was still somewhat standoffish with Richard, though, and Richard had been warned by Camille not to push back. This didn’t seem fair to Richard. After all, as far as he was concerned, he’d essentially identified and then caught a serial killer single-handedly, but Camille still behaved as if he was somehow at fault. All Richard could conclude was, life was so very unfair.
Perhaps the only clue that Dwayne was hurting in any way was his announcement, a few weeks later, that he was going to stop studying for his sergeant’s exam. He said he wasn’t cut out for it, and when Fidel and Camille tried to convince him otherwise, he refused to listen. He just kept on saying that he was better off staying an ordinary Police officer.
That same evening, entirely by chance, Dwayne found himself locking up the Police station at the same time as Richard was leaving. Dwayne could see that his boss had something on his mind, but he wasn’t that interested in talking to him – a fact Richard was also able to see for himself.
‘You don’t need to sit the sergeant’s exam for me to know what a good copper you are,’ Richard said awkwardly.
Dwayne turned to look at his boss.
‘What’s that?’
‘You don’t need to be a Sergeant for me to know how good you are, Dwayne.’
‘Even though you think I slope off from work?’
‘Look, I don’t want to get into a fight, although you’re right, your methods sometimes leave something to be desired.’
‘What?’
‘But it was you who solved the biggest case this island has seen in years.’
Dwayne frowned.
‘You mean Amy?’
‘Of course.’
‘But that was you. You solved it.’
‘You misremember, Dwayne. I was completely stuck. I didn’t know what to think. And it was you telling me to approach the case logically that helped me solve it. And the fact that you kept asking me to work out what was “bugging me”.’
A slow smile appeared on Dwayne’s face. He couldn’t help himself.
‘You’re right. It was me.’
<
br /> ‘Seriously, I couldn’t have done it without you.’
Dwayne took a moment to realise that he had indeed been the key to unlocking the whole case.
‘Thanks, Chief. And you know, I should thank you.’
‘Why?’
‘Someone had to man the Police station when you went out and caught her, and you made sure that person was me.’
‘It only seemed fair to spare you.’
‘Anyway, thanks. And while we’re talking, you should know, Chief, there’s maybe another reason I can’t take the exam.’
‘Oh? Why’s that?’
‘I never did any revision. I didn’t even pick up a book.’
‘I know. I’m trying to gloss over that part.’
‘I’m just not a books person.’
‘Don’t keep going on about it.’
‘But I’m glad to have got that off my chest. It’s been weighing on me. Knowing I was kind of in the wrong, even though it wasn’t my fault.’
Dwayne waited for Richard to make some kind of superior comment, but he was surprised when he his boss sighed.
‘Well, if we’re talking about getting things off our chests, I think I owe you an apology as well.’
‘You do?’
‘I really should never have looked up your girlfriend on the Police Computer Network.’
Richard wasn’t sure how he’d feel if he admitted this, and he was surprised that, even though he was still sure he’d been in the right to look up Amy’s record, saying that he’d been in the wrong seemed to lift the fug of shame that had followed him ever since then. It was a stunning revelation for Richard. Saying ‘sorry’ really did seem to make you feel better.
‘Don’t worry,’ Dwayne said sadly, ‘I get it. You were suspicious of her. So you looked her up. And you were right to be.’
‘But I wasn’t, really. Not at that time. I just looked her up.’
‘You weren’t suspicious of her?’
‘Not really. I was just worried for you.’
‘You were?’
‘I didn’t want her hurting you.’
‘What?’
‘After all, we didn’t know who this woman was.’
‘Wait, wait, wait, wait,’ Dwayne said, as though he’d just discovered that up was down and left was right. ‘You were being my wingman?’
Now it was Richard’s turn to be surprised.
‘I have no idea what a wingman is.’
‘You had my back.’
‘Is that what a wingman does?’
‘Well, that changes everything. Everyone needs a friend to look out for them. Thanks for that . . . wingman.’
Dwayne came over to his boss, slapped him on the back – inadvertently winding him in the process – and then turned and headed off down the stairs.
Once he’d gone, Richard found he couldn’t move. This was mainly because he was still struggling to get his breath back, Dwayne having slapped him really quite hard. But it was for another reason as well.
Dwayne had just called him his ‘friend’.
Was that true? Richard thought to himself. Did Dwayne really consider them both to be friends?
The thought warmed Richard inside.
From the empty car park beneath the station, Dwayne suddenly stopped and called back.
‘Hey, I’m meeting Camille and Fidel at Catherine’s bar for a drink. You want to come?’
‘No, thank you,’ Richard called back, on the grounds that he’d started an excellent jigsaw of a Bavarian Castle only the night before, and he’d already spent much of the day looking forward to spending the evening finishing the sky.
‘Oh,’ Dwayne said, and it slowly dawned on Richard that Dwayne was genuinely disappointed. And as he had this thought, Richard also realised that ‘going for a drink’ was something friends did with each other, wasn’t it?
‘But when I say “no, thank you”,’ Richard called out, suddenly realising how he could save the situation, ‘what I really mean is that I don’t want you buying me a drink, because I want to buy you a drink.’
Dwayne didn’t speak for a few moments.
‘You’re getting the drinks in?’ he eventually asked.
Richard realised that his Bavarian Castle would just have to wait.
‘You know what? For one night only, I think I am.’
Read on for an extract from another Death in Paradise mystery with DI Richard Poole. . .
Death Knocks Twice
Two dead bodies. A family of suspects. One disgruntled detective.
CHAPTER ONE
Detective Inspector Richard Poole was in a bad mood.
This wasn’t in fact all that unusual. Not to say that he was always in a bad mood, far from it. Sometimes, he simmered without quite boiling over. And at other times he felt too worn down by the whole shooting match of life to get a proper grump on. But today wasn’t one of those days. Today he was in a fury so complete that he was in grave danger of going ‘the full Rumpelstiltskin’.
As was so often the case, the object of Richard’s ire was Police Officer Dwayne Myers.
‘Then how about you try this one, Chief?’ Dwayne said as he stood by his desk holding up a brightly-coloured Hawaiian shirt.
There was a stifled laugh from the direction of Camille’s desk.
‘What’s that, Camille?’ Richard asked.
‘Nothing, sir,’ Camille said in her most grown-up voice. ‘But I think Dwayne’s right. That shirt would really suit you.’
‘It wouldn’t,’ Richard said.
‘I think it would, sir.’
‘It wouldn’t, Camille. I just said.’
‘But why not? It’s fun.’
‘Fun?’ Richard squeaked in a high falsetto that, frankly, surprised all of them. He coughed to put the gravel back into his voice. ‘You call that aberration of a shirt “fun”?’
‘I reckon so,’ Dwayne said. ‘And Camille’s right. You’d look great in it.’
‘Right, that’s it,’ Richard announced, standing up from behind his desk. Having commanded his team’s full attention, he shot the cuffs of his white shirt, did up the middle button on the jacket of his woollen suit and stepped out into the centre of the Police Station.
A trickle of sweat slipped down from Richard’s hairline, and he glanced at Police Officer Fidel Best’s desk, to check that he had gone back to his work. As the youngest member of the team, Fidel generally stayed out of the skirmishes and outright civil war that could sometimes engulf the office. Richard was pleased to see that Fidel was looking at his monitor in a way that suggested that he was indeed keeping himself to himself.
Richard pulled a hankie from his jacket pocket, wiped the sweat from his face and turned to face Dwayne.
‘I’m your commanding officer, and I’m telling you to put that. . .garment down. Right. Now.’
‘But seriously, Chief,’ Dwayne said. ‘I’m only trying to help. You have got to get into some lighter clothes. That woollen suit in this climate will be the death of you.’
Richard jutted out his jaw. He found his subordinates’ desire to get him into more casual clothes deeply irritating. Didn’t they appreciate just how very elegantly he was already dressed? And hadn’t they any idea just how hard it was keeping his black brogues polished to a parade ground sheen when most of the island was covered in fine grade aggregate – or, as the tourist brochures were so intent on calling it, ‘sand’?
‘I’ve worn a suit every day of my working life, and I’m not going to stop now just because I’ve had the misfortune of being posted to the bloody Caribbean.’
Dwayne exhaled.
‘Okay, Chief.’
‘Thank you.’
Dwayne’s face brightened as he grabbed up another shirt from the pile of clothes on his desk.
‘Then how about you try this one?’ he asked, before realising that the shirt he was now holding was a billowing confection of gold satin with silver tassels.
Even Dwayne was surprised.
‘Okay, maybe not this one. But how about this?’ he said, putting the disco shirt down and picking up a far more acceptable shirt in a sky blue colour.
‘Dwayne,’ Richard said with the rattle of death in his voice. ‘That shirt doesn’t even have sleeves.’
It was true. It wasn’t so much a shirt as a vest with ideas above its station.
Richard strode over to Dwayne, grabbed the shirt from his hands and dashed it back onto the pile of clothes on the desk.
‘Dwayne. Let me be clear. Hell would have to freeze over before I’d wear any of these clothes.’
‘Although, sir,’ Fidel said, finally joining the conversation. ‘If hell did freeze over, you wouldn’t want to be wearing shorts and Hawaiian shirts anyway.’
Richard turned and looked at Fidel to see if he was winding him up. It was clear from his helpful smile that he wasn’t.
‘Tell you what,’ Dwayne said. ‘The guy on the market said there was no rush getting these back to him. He was having problems selling them anyway. So how about I just put them in the back office? You can look at them another time, when you’ve got a moment. What do you reckon to that?’
As though Richard had just agreed with his plan, Dwayne picked up the pile of shirts and shorts from his desk and went through the bead curtain that led to the cells.
Richard finally let out a breath that he hadn’t even known he’d been holding. At least that was that problem dealt with.
‘Good morning, team,’ a mellifluous voice announced, and the island’s Commissioner of Police, Selwyn Patterson, sauntered into the room, his hands thrust deep into the trouser pockets of his rumpled khaki uniform.
‘Good morning, sir,’ Richard said, knowing that the Commissioner’s arrival was never good news.
Selwyn removed his peaked cap, held it delicately between forefinger and thumb, and gave the office a once over.
Murder in the Caribbean Page 25
