Murder on the Island

by Daisy White

  ‘I’m fine. As long as we can stop somewhere for lunch before we start the long climb.’ She smiled. ‘Dre used to take me for trips out to the beach up there, and I’d love to see if I remember it properly.’

  The church was halfway up the hill, on Blockade Alley, and Chloe marched at a brisk pace despite the heat. Majestic in semi-completion, even though the roofs had never been added to the various corridors and halls, the church had been built on the site of the former Governor’s House. The impressive gateposts were survivors of that era, and Chloe ran a gentle hand down the sun-warmed stone.

  Finn assumed the role of tour guide. ‘It was intended to have been a magnificent example of Victorian Gothic architecture. But after building began in 1874 there were continuous problems. I believe several workers died, a storm wiped out a lot of the half-finished structure, and then they just ran out of money.’

  Chloe studied the stone walls, the half-finished roof and outlines that should have one day been windows. The gate was shut with a big sign stating that the structure was unsafe. ‘It’s very atmospheric, even half built. Such a shame it was never finished though, the lines are beautiful.’

  It was funny, after worrying about their day together, she thought again how she felt perfectly happy she was with Finn. He was kind and considerate, funny, and, of course, drop-dead gorgeous too.

  ‘My wife used to love it. She was a fan of old buildings, and we have a lot of history on the island.’

  It was the first time he had mentioned his wife, and Chloe put a gentle hand on his arm. ‘I’m so sorry. Antoine told me she died. It must be awful.’

  He guided them both back down to the road, and they began the long climb. ‘Yes, it was. It is. She was killed down in Sandys Parish in a road accident. The other driver was coming far too fast and hit her head-on. She must have swerved to avoid him and lost control. She never had a chance.’

  12

  She was silent. It seemed easier to confide side by side rather than face-to-face and perhaps it would help him to talk about it. She felt a tiny bit ashamed for thinking he was gorgeous earlier, when he was clearly suffering. When had Antoine said it happened? Four years ago, that was it. Horrible.

  ‘It does get easier. I have a lot of happy memories. Our son, Daniel, lives and works in London now. He’s engaged to a British girl, and they want a wedding in Bermuda in a couple of years.’ He glanced down at her. ‘I suppose you should know, if you haven’t already been told, that the driver who pushed my wife off the road was Jordan, Ailsa’s grandson.’

  ‘My God, that’s awful. Was he… in prison?’ Chloe thought of Ailsa’s worries about her grandson, but she had never mentioned this.

  ‘He was only thirteen so he did time in a juvenile detention centre. It’s over and it was an accident. Do you want to stop for a bit and admire the view?’

  The abrupt change of subject told her he had shared enough, and she quickly took her cue from him, despite her mind still spinning with the horror of this new information. ‘Love to. It’s just so stunning, and I could do with five minutes in the shade.’

  They paused under a line of pine trees, and looked back down at St George’s. The sprawling town basked in the spring heat, inhabitants turned to little dots as they scurried about their business.

  ‘Tobacco Bay Beach,’ Chloe said, when they walked on. ‘We must stop there if we have time. We used to get fish for lunch and ice creams after we went snorkelling.’

  ‘It’ll be quite busy now. Probably far more touristy than you remember it,’ Finn warned.

  The bay was busy. With Easter approaching, locals and tourists were making the most of the first real burst of hot weather. The bluey-green water, the dark rocks encircling pools, and the cheerful gaudy umbrellas brought back Chloe’s childhood.

  ‘I sometimes wonder what I would have been like if my mother hadn’t taken me away from Bermuda,’ she said. ‘At the time it was a huge culture shock, but nobody ever mentioned leaving me with Dre permanently. I knew it wasn’t forever, but I suppose I secretly hoped each time they came back that they might forget about me, and let me stay on the island.’

  He smiled down at her. ‘And now you’re back. Older and wiser, and settling back in.’

  ‘It is funny, but I do feel so much stronger here, much happier. Back home, my job was boring, and everything felt flat and grey. I would never have had the confidence to run my own business for instance. I…’ Wondering if she was talking too much, she met his eyes, but saw nothing but keen interest. ‘My ex-husband, Mark, left me on my birthday. My fiftieth. I know it shouldn’t be such a big thing, your fiftieth, but for me it was.’

  ‘Your husband, ex-husband, I presume, must be an idiot,’ Finn said hotly.

  She sat down on a rock, stretching her aching legs. ‘Yes. I mean I think he is, obviously, but I didn’t to start with or I wouldn’t have ever married him. Other people like him, it just didn’t work for us, I suppose. He’s a journalist, and he certainly gets a lot of work. But I was in a bad place and Dre leaving me the house… It was like it was meant to be.’

  ‘So you could start again?’ The gleam in his eyes suggested he was also happy she had been left the house. ‘Shall I get us a drink from the cafe?’

  ‘Yes, please. Just a juice with lots of ice would be lovely.’

  Chloe often worried that she was boring people during long conversations. She wasn’t stupid, and she knew this feeling stemmed from a lack of self-confidence. Mark had been chipping away at her for years. Little remarks, little sighs, raised eyebrows at things she did. To some women, she supposed it wouldn’t have mattered, but to her, it had been confirmation that she was indeed boring, not worth talking to, or taking out.

  It was fun to be out in the sunshine, exploring half-remembered places, and not feel she was being a burden in any way. And then she also had the party at the gallery to look forward to. She had a feeling that might be rather more of a challenge. Her mind wandered back to the painting, to Melissa. It was time to bring up her worries. She so hoped that her confessions wouldn’t ruin the day.

  After a cold drink, the words popped out before she even planned to speak. ‘Finn, there’s something I need to tell you. In fact, a couple of things…’

  They started walking up the hill again. Starting with the easiest one, she told him about the man and the sports bag at Dockyard.

  He listened carefully, and as they walked under a row of shadowy pines, she showed him the photos on her phone. ‘I think I know who you saw, and if it was him, he has already been in touch. He was at Tranquility House the morning you found the body.’

  She stopped walking and stared at him.

  ‘Shay Taylor. He’s an American photographer. He and his girlfriend, Michelle, came into the station for a chat. They photograph derelict buildings around the world.’ Finn smiled. ‘They have a very active Instagram account, and from what I can see make a nice living from it.’

  ‘I see,’ Chloe said slowly, as they started walking again. ‘That would be why he was sneaking around Dockyard?’

  ‘Yes. A lot of their photography is done at night, and a good percentage is actually illegal. They break into the deserted buildings and set up for various shots, then get out before security find them.’ Finn was looking disapproving now. ‘It’s pretty dangerous, some of it. I had a quick look at some of their pictures and they take a lot of risks.’

  Chloe let out a long breath. ‘I can kind of see it, and I’d like to have a look at their photos. I… I love old buildings myself, especially the kind where you don’t pay to join a queue of tourists and get ushered round.’

  He laughed. ‘Is that a guilty secret?’

  ‘It kind of is, I’m afraid, but I certainly don’t have any plans for breaking and entering. So that’s one mystery cleared up.’

  ‘You have others?’

  ‘Oh yes, I’m afraid so. Seriously, this is one I’m more worried about…’ Chloe said, and blurted out the whole story. Melissa, the mon
ey, the painting, the packaging, her concerns about the possible drugs link. Finally, when he didn’t speak, she nudged him. ‘What do you think?’

  He frowned. ‘I don’t know yet. Wow, I wasn’t expecting that at all.’

  They walked a little further in silence and just as Chloe was thinking she couldn’t go any further, they reached the last bend. Ahead and slightly to the left, lay the beach and St Catherine’s Fort. The sand was like pink-and-white icing sugar, and the sea a ribbon of rippling turquoise with a wooden jetty stretching out into the water. The beauty of the scene, and her anxiety over her confession made her throat tighten.

  ‘Chloe?’

  She tore her gaze away from the scene in front of them, and back to Finn.

  ‘Firstly, I’m glad you told me.’ His brown eyes, the pupils threaded with amber, were fixed intently on hers. ‘Secondly, as I said before, I can’t make any comments on the ongoing investigation, but I am worried Melissa and Matthew could have been putting others in danger with their actions. And lastly…’ He swallowed and just looked at her.

  ‘And lastly?’ she prompted, staring at him as though she could prise the secrets from his mind. Putting others in danger? He hadn’t denied the drugs rumour.

  ‘Lastly, I don’t want to scare you, but you could also be in danger.’

  ‘Me? Why?’ Chloe said. ‘Let’s just go down to the beach for a bit.’

  He led the way downhill, over the road and onto the sand. In the shade of the tree-fringed beach, Chloe pushed her sunglasses back onto her head and kicked off her sandals. They were comfortable, easy to walk in and very unfashionable, but her feet were now aching from the climb. She sat down, wriggled her toes in the sand and tried to ignore the icy shivers that raced up her spine at Finn’s words.

  ‘You have the painting and the money in your house,’ he said. ‘The first thing to do is to get it safely down to the police station.’

  Chloe thought of Melissa’s tearful pleas. ‘But why would she give it to me? I feel so bad that I’m betraying her trust and handing it over. And come to that, it’s been worrying me that she is supposedly in New York, but she never said a word about a trip when she was at my house.’

  ‘Melissa seems to be a complex character, and Chloe, you seem to be a very kind, giving person. It may be that Melissa picked up on that…’

  ‘She was faking?’ Chloe thought back to that night. ‘No! She had bruises and she would have to be an incredible actress to give such a convincing performance.’

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound patronising,’ he said gently. There was an uncomfortable pause. ‘You haven’t seen her or heard from her since?’

  ‘No, but I called the gallery the morning after it happened. Jonas doesn’t seem bothered and surely if he thought his sister was in trouble, or if she really went missing he’d be the first to call you in?’ Chloe pulled her bottle of water out of her bag and unscrewed the cap, frowning.

  Finn leaned back on his elbows. ‘We did interview Jonas as well. He and Melissa both have alibis. It’s common knowledge, and Jonas will probably mention it himself when you go to the party tonight.’

  Chloe spluttered water down her dress. ‘How do you know I’m going to the party? Are you a mind reader or just MI5?’

  ‘This is Bermuda, we don’t need MI5.’ He grinned at her suggestions. ‘I was invited and I’ve seen the guest list. I get lots of invitations, so I always ask to see a guest list before I commit.’

  She smiled, tickled by the idea. ‘That’s such a good way to deal with things. Don’t people get offended?’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe, but I see no point in going somewhere if there’s nobody interesting to talk too. I might as well be working on my boat.’

  ‘You have a boat?’

  ‘A Bermuda rig. It’s a fore-and-aft rig that uses a triangular mainsail. Working on it, or sailing it are both pretty therapeutic. I’ll show you one day.’

  ‘That’s why you wanted to buy a boatyard!’ She nodded, pleased at this promise of future excursions. They were silent for a long while, listening to the waves lazily crashing onto the beach, the whisper and rustle of the tree branches above their heads.

  Eventually Finn spoke. ‘Seriously though, as soon as we get back, you can give me the painting and money for safekeeping. I’ll make a couple more quick phone calls as we walk back if you don’t mind, and get a few people in the loop.’

  ‘Of course I don’t mind, I’m really just worried about Melissa.’ Chloe took his extended hand and hauled herself to her feet, brushing sand from her dress, looking around for her sandals. ‘I’ve had a heavenly day, so thank you so much, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the painting before. I was just… I don’t know…’

  His face softened. ‘It’s fine, I understand. But we need to make sure it’s safe now, and find Melissa. As I said, it could be that she and Matthew were mixed up in something that led to his death.’ Finn glanced at her, as though debating whether to say more. ‘What was the forum you were reading?’

  ‘I can send you the link. It was an art forum.’

  ‘We also need to consider that the perpetrator of the crime is perhaps targeting those from the artist community.’

  Chloe’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘I never thought of that! Wait, why would you think that though? Melissa only mentioned her and Matthew. Oh, I have a screenshot from the forum. Look…’ She scrolled through her pictures and handed her phone to him.

  ‘Yes, I see. We are spending time investigating possible drugs links, but you’ll just have to trust me when I say that we might want to take a closer look at the artists themselves.’

  He clearly felt he had said enough, and she wondered if he had perhaps told her even more than he intended in his efforts to reassure and comfort her.

  Chloe just nodded in response, her mind whirling with crazy ideas. The craziest of them all was that perhaps another artist with a grudge might be responsible for Matthew Georgias’ death. But she didn’t voice any of this, respecting Finn’s professional silence. He had certainly gone above and beyond for her, and she wouldn’t pressure him for more information.

  She dropped slightly back, pretending to take some more photographs of the spectacular bay behind them as he made his calls.

  Most of the car journey back was spent in easy silence. Halfway to the stables, Chloe got a text from the SPCA saying that Helen would send someone to visit tomorrow at ten if that was convenient.

  Chloe had a brief panic that she might not have time to prepare the house, and told herself not to be silly. She had already checked the fencing in the garden, and there was plenty of space for a dog bed in the corner of the kitchen. Not wanting to tempt fate, she decided against purchasing any of the necessities until she passed the home visit.

  Chloe sat listening to Finn’s phone calls, curt and brief. They ascertained that nobody knew there was a copy of The Painted Lady in existence, and so far his contacts had drawn a blank on large withdrawals from Matthew Georgias or Melissa Aliente’s bank accounts. No robberies had been reported on the island involving vast sums of money either, which meant they were no closer to solving the mystery.

  It was a relief to get home to her tangerine-coloured house, to show Finn into her cool kitchen, and open the cedar chest.

  ‘Do you want some iced water or anything? I’ll just get the painting. It’s all packaged up…’ She was leaning down, opening the lid and moving the striped blanket carefully to one side, but her face was turned towards Finn. Chloe looked down, hands outstretched.

  The package was gone.

  13

  ‘Are you absolutely sure this is where you left it?’ Finn queried. ‘Sorry, I’m not being an ass, just checking.’

  ‘Yes! It was wrapped in this blanket.’ Chloe ran shaky hands through her hair. ‘Thank goodness I took the photographs, or I might think I dreamt the whole thing.’

  Finn was walking around the house now, checking doors and windows. ‘Well it doesn’t look l
ike there’s an obvious point of forced entry. Who has your spare key, if you have one?’

  ‘Ailsa, but she would never have taken the picture! She only comes over to gossip and she’s lovely anyway. What reason could she possibly have to…?’

  ‘Calm down. I’m not pointing fingers, just asking. Did Melissa see where you put the package?’

  ‘Yes. She watched while I laid it in the chest. Perhaps she came back for it? But if it was someone else, and they knew Melissa gave the package to me, but didn’t know where to look for it, it wouldn’t take long to search my house.’ Chloe went quickly into her bedroom, checking her jewellery, her bank cards, and her laptop. ‘Nothing else appears to be missing.’ Her heart rate was slowing now, her breathing more even.

  ‘Let’s go and have a chat with Antoine. Maybe he saw something. And you need to check Ailsa still has your spare key,’ Finn said.

  Chloe opened the front door, and he followed her down to the stables. Antoine was just waving off a group of six into their hotel minibus.

  ‘Did you have a good day out?’ he asked cheerfully, his smile fading as he took in their serious faces.

  Chloe explained that she thought she might have had a break-in, reassuring him that nothing was missing. Somehow she didn’t want to mention the painting or Melissa.

  ‘That’s terrible! Not while I’ve been here, but that group that just left wanted a two-hour ride, so I’ve only just got back. Are you sure nothing was taken?’ Antoine was clearly shocked.

  ‘Nothing that I can see. It’s just a bit strange,’ Chloe said lamely, adding, ‘Leave some of the tack and I’ll clean it later if you like?’

  ‘Don’t worry, Mrs C, I like tack-cleaning,’ Antoine said, and studied them both for a moment, apparently thinking hard. He unhooked metal bits from the bridles, dunking them into a bucket of water. Finally, he said, ‘This isn’t connected to the murder, but I did hear something from Louisa last night that I was going to mention… She works for the tourism board sometimes as well as her job in Dockyard, and she told me somebody had been spreading rumours that the stables are going bust.’