Murder on the Island

by Daisy White

  ‘My stables?’

  ‘Yeah. Lou said it was just gossip and it was impossible to tell who started it, but, of course, if it gets back to the hotels, and the tourism board, we are less likely to get business sent our way.’

  ‘That sounds like somebody is trying to get you closed down,’ Finn commented, a serious expression on his face.

  ‘There is a lot of competition for riding contracts,’ Chloe said thoughtfully. ‘I do know there are more stables up St George’s way because I had a look online before I even came over. Since I looked at the accounts I noticed that Dre lost a big hotel contract recently. The Royal Majestic or something?’

  ‘Yes, she did and that was a blow. They never said why but the business was divided up between two other stables on the island. I can’t be sure, but we never had a problem with them before, so I would say this gossip might have had a lot to do with the fact we were dropped,’ Antoine said.

  ‘Surely if you had a good working relationship with the hotel they wouldn’t have listened to a bit of gossip?’ Finn suggested quietly.

  ‘The old team wouldn’t have, but there was a new manager brought in from outside Bermuda, and I suppose if he couldn’t be sure we were reliable and had a future,’ Antoine commented thoughtfully, shrugging as he spoke.

  Finn nodded, understanding, as Chloe questioned, ‘Can you ask Louisa if she can do a bit of discreet digging? Just to see if it leads us back to the source?’

  ‘Yeah, she’d love that, a bit of detective work.’ Antoine grinned. ‘But seriously, it’s a worry, so the sooner we get it sorted the better, especially if we’re going to go all out to save the business.’

  ‘Which we definitely are,’ Chloe stated firmly.

  ‘I agree with Antoine,’ Finn said. ‘If there is something going on, we’ll find out, Chloe, and put a stop to it. Meanwhile, weren’t you going to pop over to Ailsa’s house?’

  She nodded, and walked down the path between the two houses, slipping through the hedge, knocking on her neighbour’s open door. Five brown chickens strutted out, but Ailsa was nowhere to be seen.

  Pushing the door tentatively, Chloe went into the kitchen. ‘Ailsa?’

  A rangy, striped tabby cat wound around her feet, and she could tell by the soft clucking that the chickens had followed her inside. Puzzled, she called again, walking into the narrow hallway, gently pushing open the bedroom door.

  Ailsa was lying on her bed, a blanket over her feet. Chloe would have retreated quickly and left her to her afternoon nap, if she hadn’t noticed the sizeable bump and bruised face. She bent down and shook her neighbour’s shoulder carefully. ‘Ailsa? Are you all right? Open your eyes!’

  But Ailsa stayed unconscious, breathing deeply and rhythmically, as Chloe flew back outside, falling over chickens, shouting for Finn in panic.

  When the ambulance arrived, Ailsa was awake, and clearly in pain. Her bruised face had swollen and her right eye was almost completely closed. ‘What’s going on? What happened?’

  ‘We’re going to get you sorted out first, and then you can tell us what happened,’ Chloe soothed, squeezing her wrinkled brown hand gently.

  ‘I don’t… I don’t remember what happened.’ Ailsa tried to sit up, winced and was gently pushed back down by the paramedic. ‘There was a knock on the door. I thought it was going to be Jordan arriving early. He was due to pop over… Cheryl was hoping I could talk some sense into him about this new job at the sports shop in Hamilton.’

  ‘Could Jordan have hurt you?’ Finn asked carefully.

  Ailsa snorted in amusement, and then winced again. ‘Of course not. It wasn’t Jordan anyway. It was a stranger. Taller than my boy. I could see that much through the glass.’ She pointed at her frosted-glass window next to the front door.

  ‘Male or female?’

  ‘I couldn’t tell.’ Ailsa winced again as the blood-pressure cuff inflated. ‘I suppose a man by the size. I don’t remember anything after that. I feel sick.’

  ‘Your door was open when I came round,’ Chloe noted.

  By the time Ailsa was on her way to hospital, and Finn had gone down to the police station, Chloe realised it was already past four. The gallery drinks party was at eight. Should she still go? She was exhausted, and very worried about both Ailsa and Melissa.

  Finn had told her that naturally he wouldn’t be attending the party after this most recent incident, but he had urged her to go, to take her mind off things. He promised to call her when he located Melissa, or if anything urgent came up that she needed to know.

  Undecided, Chloe had a quick shower and went out into the yard. Antoine was out with a single last-minute booking, and the other horses accepted her gifts of chopped carrots and apples. She stared out at the sea, watching the gentle swell of the waves, listening to the Longtails screaming over the ocean.

  A text from Cheryl reassured her that Ailsa at least was safe and recovering:

  Mum’s fine and wants to go home. Will keep u updated. Thank u for helping out x

  She hadn’t asked Ailsa about the spare key, but she felt it was fairly obvious whoever had hit her neighbour, had taken the key, searched her own house, and taken the package. It sent chills along her arms, imagining somebody searching through her possessions.

  If the SPCA were happy she thought she might go shopping for the dog bed and food tomorrow afternoon, and arrange to pick Hilda up on Wednesday. Would Peter allow her in the taxi with the dog? Oh God, she hadn’t even thought of how she would actually get her home.

  But it would be lovely to have the bouncy black-and-white dog around, and very comforting to have her solid presence in the evenings. Chloe did hope she really was okay with chickens, because Ailsa would be devastated if anything happened to her noisy feathered friends.

  Star and Sunny were plodding back along the trail. She could see the bob of riders’ heads further down the hill, towards the sea, and she turned quickly, decisively. It might be a mistake, but she would go to the party tonight, and see what she could find out. Any hesitation about sticking her nose in where it wasn’t wanted was crushed by this latest incident. She was involved. Somehow. And somehow she would find out what was going on.

  With an hour to kill before her taxi arrived, Chloe went back to her business plans. The file on her computer was now jammed with ideas, and the flyers were designed, ready for the Dockyard shop and Jonas’ gallery. She would need to find a cheap printer and get those done in bulk, Chloe thought.

  Glancing at her watch, she realised the hours had flown by, and this would have to wait. With a worried frown reflected in the mirror, she applied another coat of lipstick, and spritzed herself with her new perfume. It was a lovely light scent called South Water, from the Bermuda Perfumery. Dre had always treated herself to their beautiful perfumes, and bought Chloe little glass bottles of fragrance for her birthdays and Christmas presents as soon as she was old enough.

  Peter was delighted to be taking Chloe to the party in his taxi, and clearly just as delighted to be catching up on the gossip.

  ‘Everyone’s been so friendly,’ Chloe assured him, in response to his anxious enquiries about how she was settling in after finding a dead body, and finding Ailsa after her attack. ‘Really. Antoine is just brilliant with the yard, and Ailsa has been sorting out everything else I need…’ She trailed off. She had called Cheryl at the hospital just before she left, and been told her neighbour was ‘comfortable’. At least Ailsa had a small army of family to look after her, Chloe thought.

  ‘I hear it’s just a minor head injury,’ Peter said, driving slowly and carefully round another blind corner. ‘She’s tough as old boots, Ailsa. Must have been a big man to take her out. If anyone finds out who it is before the police do…’

  ‘I just can’t believe all this is going on,’ Chloe said honestly, settling the silky folds of a long yellow skirt across the seat. Agonising over outfits for the second time that day, she had gone for a bright-yellow skirt and an embroidered white peasant blouse
with puffed sleeves to hide her upper arms. ‘It seems like it’s been non-stop since I moved here.’ She bit her lip, not voicing her latest worries.

  ‘Well, it isn’t like Bermuda to have a lot of violent crime I will say, and certainly not murder, but don’t you worry. All things pass, and whatever is going on, whatever spat someone has had behind the scenes, I’m sure it will all be sorted out soon,’ Peter said comfortingly, as he inched along the road behind a queue of traffic, tapping his fingers in time to the radio.

  She told him about Hilda and was delighted when he agreed to take her down to the rescue centre, and bring both of them back.

  ‘I shouldn’t really have dogs in here, but it’s only a short distance and you say you picked a small one?’

  Chloe dithered. ‘Yeeesss. I mean, she isn’t tiny but she could probably lay down on my knee for the journey,’ she finally agreed, still slightly uncertain.

  ‘No problem, just let me know which day you want to pick her up,’ Peter said agreeably.

  ‘Hopefully Wednesday, but I just need to get the go-ahead after the home visit. Fingers crossed,’ Chloe told him.

  It took Chloe several goes to get through the doors of the gallery. There were so many elegant people mingling, chatting and sipping champagne that she nearly lost her nerve. Walking casually past for the fourth time, she saw that she could probably just sneak off to one of the other bars in Dockyard and nobody would notice.

  Outside, the shadows were lengthening, and Dockyard was quieter, but enticing now with lights and laughter, as the night-time scene woke up. She could hear music, chatter from a group of teens leaning on their scooters, and she could see a bunch of people in evening dress boarding a sleek motor cruiser. Closer to the mall, a man stood smoking, and talking urgently into his mobile phone. He caught her glance and looked up, half smiling at her.

  Chloe blushed and hastily turned back to the marina. She wondered if she should call the hospital to check on Ailsa again, or perhaps she should just get the bus home?

  14

  Cursing herself for her social anxiety, Chloe took a deep breath, held her head high, forcing herself to march, skirt swishing elegantly around her legs, straight back into the mall and into the party.

  At first she couldn’t see Jonas, but after accepting a glass of champagne from the waiter, she spotted him next to Matthew Georgias’ paintings. He seemed to be arguing with a tall, well-dressed man, whose grey hair was slicked back from a large shiny forehead.

  Intrigued, Chloe pushed her way through the crowds, smiling apologies, until she was right behind him. His face was set in annoyance, mouth downturned whilst the other man seemed to be half laughing.

  ‘Hallo, Jonas,’ Chloe said.

  ‘Chloe!’ He spun round, composing himself. ‘I didn’t see you arrive. How lovely to have you here.’

  To give him credit, the charm returned in an instant, and she smiled back. ‘Thank you so much for inviting me. Looks like a great party.’

  The grey-haired man, wide shoulders barely contained in a well-cut navy suit jacket, raised his glass to her, addressing Jonas. ‘Who is this lovely lady? Another art collector?’

  ‘More than just an art collector.’ Chloe smiled. ‘Jonas said that he had some new artists to introduce tonight and I was curious.’

  ‘This is Chloe Canton. She bought some of Melissa’s pieces the other day,’ Jonas said silkily, his eyes still flashing with annoyance at the other man. ‘Chloe, this is Arron. Arron Stone.’

  The name was familiar, and Chloe searched for the link. He saved her the trouble. ‘Delighted to meet you, Ms Canton, or Chloe if I may?’

  She nodded. ‘Of course.’

  ‘I am Jonas and Melissa’s stepfather. I expect they have mentioned me already.’ The expectant smile, the warmth in the pale-blue eyes jolted Chloe. ‘I am so proud of how well my stepchildren have been doing.’

  Chloe’s brain clicked the puzzle piece into place, even as Jonas stood looking slightly sulky, sipping his champagne. ‘You have a foundation too, don’t you? The Skylight Foundation.’

  ‘Jonas has been talking!’ the big man teased his stepson. His wide smile and genial manner was a total contrast to Jonas’ stiff and icy response. He seemed to notice this, because a worry line creased his forehead and the blue eyes lost some of their sparkle.

  There was an awkward pause, as Chloe wondered if she would make things better or worse by admitting it was actually Finn who had told her about Arron and his foundation. ‘I expect Melissa will be disappointed to miss tonight. With you introducing new artists to the gallery. I mean… that must be a sign that things are going really well with the business?’ Chloe stopped talking, aware of how awkward her words sounded.

  Arron smiled gratefully at her, clearly still embarrassed by Jonas’ lack of warmth. ‘Melissa will be back from New York soon, if she behaves herself.’ He laughed. ‘My stepdaughter is a social butterfly, but sometimes she has to do some work!’

  Jonas flashed another scowl at his stepfather. ‘Melissa is also a very talented artist in her own right.’

  ‘Of course she is!’ Arron agreed hastily, apparently noticing he had made another gaffe. ‘But I just mean nothing that’s going to set the art world alight, like Matthew did. But she is talented…’

  Chloe, clutching her glass, was trying to keep a pleasant, neutral expression on her face. She was riveted by the poisonous undercurrents in the conversation.

  Arron seemed a likeable bear of a man, despite his size and reputation, he was made all the more appealing by his awkwardness around Jonas. It couldn’t be more obvious that Jonas disliked his stepfather. Maybe Arron had tried to buy his affection with this gallery?

  It must be a very strange situation, if the siblings’ father had died fairly recently, to be left with two grown-up children. Had they ever formed a relationship? Chloe knew exactly how awkward the dynamic could be, having dealt with numerous step-parents in her life.

  Jonas seemed to gather himself. ‘I must take Chloe to meet a few people, Arron. She’s new on the island and I’d like to introduce her to some friends. Perhaps we could continue our discussion later?’ The edge was back in his voice, and he gently took Chloe’s elbow, steering her away from his stepfather.

  Arron smiled awkwardly and shambled over to another group of people, glass clasped in one large hand. There was a sadness in his eyes and his cheeks were slightly flushed, Chloe thought.

  ‘I didn’t really ever get on with my stepfather either,’ she blurted out suddenly as Jonas led her away. ‘Sorry, I couldn’t help but get the feeling the atmosphere was a bit tense.’

  To her relief he smiled, and the hard lines of his face relaxed into naturalness. ‘Families! You love them or hate them, I suppose. Arron is a brilliant businessman, but he will try to interfere in the running of the galleries. Melissa and I are perfectly capable and the Bermuda gallery really is our baby.’

  ‘It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me,’ Chloe assured him, draining her glass.

  He instantly passed her another from a polished wooden tray. ‘No, honestly I’d be glad to. Melissa and I are a highly competent team, but I’m afraid he still thinks of us as ten-year-olds. And my sister’s own painting is rather fresh and beautiful in its own way.’

  ‘I suppose everyone has a different opinion of paintings, don’t they? It’s like books – it would be boring if we all liked the same thing. When is Melissa back?’ Chloe asked in what she hoped was an artless fashion.

  ‘Oh…’ He broke eye contact and leant over to snag a plate of canapés. ‘Do have something to eat… Perhaps in a few days. She was annoyed to miss tonight but we also have a week-long event in New York that demands her attention. She’s excellent at all the finer details of planning, that kind of thing, dealing with the press and so on. Why?’

  Chloe carefully selected what looked like a crab pastry from the plate of luscious offerings, and met his eyes innocently. ‘No reason really… just that my friend in London loo
ked at your website, and definitely wants to purchase some of her work. She has several small hotels, and might want to discuss a bespoke piece.’ This was true, Alexa had been saying for ages she wanted some genuine pieces for her Devon and Brighton boutique hotels, but Chloe had totally forgotten to mention it last time they had spoken.

  ‘That’s wonderful,’ Jonas said. ‘She is welcome to call me at any time. And of course, as I say, Melissa will return to Bermuda soon.’ But he was back to looking distant and cool.

  ‘Of course.’ Chloe tried to nibble her delicious pastry without making too much mess. She licked crumbs from her lips, hastily taking a sip of champagne to cover the action. She was beginning to wonder if Jonas was a bit of a spoilt brat. He was certainly far moodier and less cool and collected than she had initially thought.

  Jonas checked his watch. ‘I must keep an eye on the time because I need to make a little speech and introduce our newbies. Look, their work is displayed on this side.’

  Chloe inspected the six vast canvases hung on the white wall. Very different works of art, but each splendid in their own way. She glanced down at the names and photographs underneath; Kaila Montana, Greg Landon, and Sheetal Araminta.

  ‘What do you think?’ Jonas asked.

  There was a large crowd around the three artists, all of whom looked totally at ease, chatting to admirers. The man, Greg, was tall and stick thin, with a black beard, a mop of untidy black hair and very white teeth. He saw Jonas checking up and waved at him.

  The two women, one with long, glossy black curls, the other with short white hair streaked with pink, were laughing with a group.

  ‘We were only going to take two new artists this spring,’ Jonas told Chloe in an undertone, ‘but with Matthew gone…’ He cleared his throat. ‘Kaila was on the reserve list before we took Matthew, and her work is similar. I like to ensure my clients have the opportunity to view and buy an interesting selection.’