Murder on the Island

by Daisy White

  Chloe looked back at the paintings. Kaila’s work was slightly reminiscent of the dead artist’s in technique, but her subject matter was totally different, being cityscapes with streaks of neon lights. The buildings were morphing into shapes as they faded into the background; squares, triangles and long, thin rectangles of silver.

  Sheetal’s work was an incredible blur of colour and structure, and Greg’s a striking contrast in black ink, so finely drawn he had woven what looked like a whole epic story onto his canvas. It brought to mind legends and ancient songs, and it was certainly unique.

  Jonas was moving her on now, acknowledging several more acquaintances as they slipped through the crowd. ‘Now you should come and meet Fiona. She organises the publicity for several businesses in the area, and she told me earlier she was looking for a horse for a photoshoot at short notice. Something about a top photographer being in the area just for a few days, I think.’

  They walked across the room, dodging the waiters, the elegant, confident people in lace, sequins and thousand-dollar suits. Chloe was fascinated by the clientele. She had almost expected them to be more… more arty. But there were no paint splodges on this lot. When she had attended exhibitions or viewings at home in London, the crowd was far more diverse, with everyone from art students, to pensioners, to actors. But she had to admit the food was better here.

  A group of younger, well-dressed people were swapping business cards, and talking intently. A couple of the men seemed to be arguing, or at least in intense conversation.

  ‘Are they okay?’ Chloe asked Jonas doubtfully.

  He glanced over, a swift assessing gaze. ‘Oh them. Yes, they flew in from New York yesterday. I think they’re friends of Kaila’s… They certainly like to flash their cash. The taller man on the left, with the red scarf… He told me this morning he’d bought a yacht before breakfast.’

  ‘Wow…’ Chloe widened her eyes in amazement at the idea of having so much money to spend. They moved on across the room.

  ‘Fiona! This is Chloe. She runs the riding stables I was telling you about,’ Jonas called across the crowds.

  A tiny, voluptuous blonde woman in a tight, green-silk dress, turned away from a laughing group and beamed. ‘How wonderful to meet you, and thank you to darling Jonas for the tip-off. Now tell me all about your horses.’

  Slightly overwhelmed by such enthusiasm, Chloe barely felt Jonas’ gentle hand on her shoulder, or his murmur that he would catch up with her later. Puzzled by yet another change in mood, Chloe smiled at Fiona.

  ‘Well it really depends what you are looking for in your photoshoot. I mean, all my horses are well-trained and very placid. Are you having professional models?’ Chloe asked, racking her brains for sensible questions.

  ‘Oh yes. We’re shooting a honeymoon brochure for Palm Bay Hotel, so I’m really looking for a pretty horse who will stand nicely for a model in a wedding dress. I’m sure you can imagine the type of thing.’ Fiona smiled at her. Her eyes were a strange colour, hazel threaded with brown, like marbles. ‘It is absolutely at short notice because I’ve managed to nab a brilliant photographer who is only here for a couple of days.’

  Chloe pulled her phone out of her bag, flicking through the photos of her horses. ‘Goldie is very pretty, and she has a lovely nature,’ she suggested.

  ‘Oh goodness, a palomino! Isn’t she stunning?’ Fiona was in raptures. ‘This is perfect, and I don’t know if Jonas mentioned it, but we will pay a fee for all our models, horse and human.’

  ‘I believe Goldie is the only true palomino on the island,’ Chloe told her, remembering something Antoine had said. ‘There are lots of cream, buckskin or dun colours, but to be a true palomino a horse needs be have that gorgeous golden coat and a perfectly white mane and tail.’ She felt rather pleased to have been able to sound like a knowledgeable horse owner and businesswoman.

  ‘Perfect. Bang on exactly what I’m looking for,’ Fiona told her.

  ‘That’s great. I mean if you’re happy…’ Chloe beamed back, shocked and delighted by the speed of the transaction. How could she have thought Jonas cold? He might have just provided her with an introduction that saved her business. ‘I’m not sure if Jonas mentioned but now I’ve taken over the stables, I’m looking to form a partnership with a local hotel… We have six horses in total, all well-trained, and our location is unrivalled. Not only for a photoshoot, but also because we can access excellent riding trails on our doorstep.’ That sounded good, very businesslike, she thought, mentally crossing her fingers.

  Fiona bent over Chloe’s phone again as she flicked through more photographs of the yard, the views and the stable block. ‘You’re right, the location is stunning, and in Bermuda there’s plenty of competition. Okay, you put together a package with rates and a potential partnership proposal. I’m very happy to go ahead with the photoshoot. We’ll do it at your stables instead of at the hotel, because I’ve got a few ideas popping into my head as I look at these photos… We’ll discuss the rest afterwards?’

  ‘Yes, I’m happy.’ Chloe beamed at her again. Her cheeks ached from smiling and she felt like doing a little victory dance. It really did seem too good to be true, but one of Dre’s favourite sayings had been never to look a gift horse in the mouth, and it seemed pretty apt in this situation. She could almost imagine her grandmother cheering her on from wherever she now resided.

  ‘Hallo, Chloe!’ It was red-headed Emma from the community shop. ‘So sorry to interrupt, but I only popped in for a few minutes because I have a meeting. It’s always so nice to support another local business, isn’t it?’

  Chloe said she supposed it was, despite thinking that if Emma didn’t really like the gallery, or Jonas and Melissa what was she doing here? She introduced Fiona.

  ‘So, Chloe, I was thinking about your suggestion of art classes at the stables, and a friend of mine is very interested. He takes watercolour classes and has a solid following. Shall I put you in touch?’ Emma said. ‘I take it you have some prices in mind?’

  Chloe said she did, and promised to get the flyers over to the shop as soon as they were printed. ‘Thank you so much for thinking of me!’

  Emma smiled back, muttered something polite and moved on. Her red hair was a vivid cloud of colour against her orange dress. She walked straight over to the noisy younger crowd, Chloe noted, and was soon in intense conversation with the taller man Jonas had pointed out. Was she giving him money? Or perhaps just her business card.

  ‘Sounds like your lovely Goldie is going to be in demand,’ Fiona said, reclaiming her attention. ‘Glad I got in first!’

  Jonas, clapping his hands, managed to claim everyone’s attention, and charmingly introduced the three new artists, adding that he hoped they would be very happy exhibiting here in Bermuda at the Stone Gallery.

  Emma, Chloe noticed, was right at the front, watching intently, a look of fierce concentration on her face. She seemed to be exuding pent-up energy, fidgeting with her hair, curling it around and around her fingers.

  Greg and Sheetal made polite little speeches about how excited they were to be here, but when Kaila stepped up to the microphone, she looked sombre.

  ‘Ladies and Gentlemen, I am so honoured to be here tonight. Having my work exhibited by the Stone family of galleries is something I have dreamt about for years. But I feel I need to mention that we in the art community were very saddened to hear of Matthew’s death, and I know Jonas and Arron will continue to show his work here, and in their other galleries. His legacy will remain, even as we move forward. Art is about fluidity and is neither pinned to past nor present.’

  On this enigmatic note, Jonas took the microphone back. He handed it to Arron, who launched into a couple of sentences about how the Stone Galleries had an excellent track record in talent-spotting and he hoped that Greg, Sheetal and Kaila would all go on to achieve worldwide success. Arron ended his little speech by beaming round with uncomplicated delight and accidentally dropping the microphone as he handed i
t back to his stepson.

  ‘Shame Jonas didn’t take on any local artists. It would have been such a chance for some raw talent to get noticed.’ Emma was back at Chloe’s elbow, business cards in one hand, phone in the other.

  ‘I don’t know how these things work, but I do agree it would be nice to showcase an artist from the island. Perhaps…’ Chloe cleared her throat. ‘Perhaps it isn’t down to Jonas and Melissa to decide?’

  Emma frowned. ‘No, you could be right. Those two are just puppets on a string. Arron Stone makes all the big decisions and he’s showing no signs of retiring. How are you settling back in? Apart from getting the business going again, I mean.’

  ‘Oh good, thanks. I’m formulating a plan. Slowly.’ Chloe laughed. ‘There is such a lot to sort out, but I’m loving it and I’m so grateful that everyone has been so welcoming.’ It sounded a bit gushy but it was true, and the icing on the cake was that if she could pull this photoshoot off, the stables might be saved. She noticed Emma still seemed edgy, and her face had a sheen of sweat, making her make-up patchy. Well, it was hot despite the air conditioning.

  ‘I can imagine. Well you know where I am, if I can help in any way.’ Emma gave her arm a friendly squeeze and walked purposefully towards the new artists.

  ‘Chloe! Can we get back to business?’ Fiona tapped her arm and handed her another glass. ‘I’d like to double-check dates and times, if that’s okay with you?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Official photographers were snapping the happy group around the artists, and lots of people were taking pictures on their phones. Chloe could already see little red ‘sold’ stickers on Greg’s two pieces, and one on Kaila’s biggest painting.

  Sheetal was now in deep conversation with the tall man from the noisy group in the corner. Maybe he was a young millionaire, and if he really had just bought a yacht, he could definitely afford to buy some of her paintings, Chloe thought.

  Within minutes, she found that the photoshoot was booked, along with the photographer, hair and make-up stylist and models. Tiny, brisk Fiona was a whirlwind of efficiency and energy.

  ‘Thank you so much and we’ll look forward to seeing you at the shoot. Such a lovely location. We can maybe think of selling a package for our honeymooners… It looks like there would be room on that terrace area for a table and chairs, some champagne and cake maybe… Anyway, must grab Jonas again before I go, but I can’t tell you how excited I am about all this. Ring me with any queries!’ After patting Chloe’s arm affectionately, Fiona whirled off.

  Chloe glanced at her watch, surprised to find that it was past ten. Peter would be here to pick her up soon. Jonas was surrounded, and Arron was enthusing over two walls of new paintings, waving his arms around and roaring with laughter.

  As she turned to put her empty glass on a silver tray, there was a scream from the far side of the gallery, followed by other shouts.

  ‘She’s having a fit!’

  ‘Has she taken drugs or something?’

  ‘Give her some room and call an ambulance!’

  Chloe forced her way through the crowd of jostling bodies, and saw Sheetal, the new artist with the mass of black curls, was half sitting, half lying, gasping for breath. She was clutching at her throat with one hand and with the other, her fingers were scrabbling for her bag.

  Jonas was kneeling next to her, Emma and Fiona helping to keep people back, and Arron was already pulling open the emergency exit.

  ‘What’s happening to her?’ One of the party guests was kneeling beside the stricken artist.

  ‘She can’t breathe!’ Jonas yelled in panic.

  15

  Chloe was near enough to see that Sheetal’s face seemed to be swollen, her skin blotchy, almost like a rash, and in an instant she understood what was happening. She pushed forward and reached the other woman, kneeling opposite Jonas.

  ‘Sheetal, do you have an allergy? Are you having an allergic reaction?’ Chloe asked urgently.

  The black curls had fallen over her face now and the wheezing of her breathing was horrible to hear, but Sheetal gripped her wrist, nodding frantically, pointing at her bag.

  Chloe grabbed the evening bag, upended it and dived for the contents. A small cylinder with a blue cap. An EpiPen. She yanked off the cap, wrapped Sheetal’s limp fingers around it and jabbed it straight into her thigh. Ignoring more shouts of horror, and shrugging off Jonas’ hand, Chloe pulled the needle out and began to massage the area where it had entered Sheetal’s body.

  Beneath the woman’s long, flared, velvet sleeves Chloe found a MedicAlert bracelet, and she showed Jonas. ‘She’s had a massive allergic reaction. She should be okay until the paramedics get here now,’ Chloe said, watching Sheetal’s face. She was lying down on her side, her eyes closed, but her breathing was definitely easier.

  ‘Are you sure? How did you know?’ Fiona was crouching next to Chloe now, her eyes bright, expression fearful.

  ‘My best friend, Alexa, is allergic to peanuts. She carries an EpiPen and wears a MedicAlert bracelet. I’ve been with her when she’s suffered an allergic reaction,’ Chloe explained. She was still shaking. Although she had acted on instinct, she still couldn’t quite believe what had happened. ‘Sheetal must have come into contact with whatever she is allergic to. It can happen very quickly, and it only takes a very small amount. With my friend, even peanut dust is enough.’

  The paramedics arrived, and, excitement over, partygoers began to drift away. Chloe moved back and leant against the wall. The excess adrenaline was still coursing through her veins, making her shake and feel slightly sick.

  ‘Thank God you were here.’ Jonas, with Arron at his elbow, was looking dishevelled and exhausted. ‘I thought she was having some kind of fit.’

  Chloe repeated her explanation and added that Alexa was always very careful to avoid peanuts, or anything that might have been contaminated by them. ‘Most people with severe allergies know exactly how to manage them. I guess whatever Sheetal is allergic to, must be here in the gallery tonight.’

  The artist was being wheeled out on a stretcher, her eyes still closed, and an oxygen mask across her face. They watched her soberly.

  ‘She could have died, couldn’t she?’ Jonas said.

  ‘Yes,’ Chloe told him, watching his face, but seeing only concern.

  Arron was also frowning, blustering that it was such an awful shock, that he would speak to the caterers, and adding, ‘I think we need to inform the police.’

  ‘Why?’ Jonas was clearly shocked.

  ‘Because we have had one artist killed this month already, and now another nearly dies right here in the gallery. I don’t believe in coincidence,’ Arron said, worry clear on his face. He strode off, pulling out his phone, knocking over a vase of flowers and stumbling slightly as he went.

  Jonas watched him with icy eyes and compressed lips.

  Chloe winced. ‘That’s probably a bit extreme, isn’t it? I mean… It was an allergic reaction.’

  Jonas nodded. ‘I agree. There is no way I think it could be linked to Matthew, but Arron… Arron will do what he wants, and if he wants to be dramatic and waste police time, that’s what he will do. Excuse me for a moment, Chloe, I need to make a call of my own. Sheetal’s family should know.’

  ‘Of course.’ Chloe found herself with Emma again, and several overexcited gallery clients. It was a relief to excuse herself after a decent interval, and make her way home.

  Exhausted now, she wriggled through the remaining crowd, and touched Jonas’ shoulder gently. ‘Thank you so much for a wonderful evening, but I’m afraid my taxi will be here now, so I need to go.’

  He made apologies to the crowd around him, and turned to face her. ‘Pleasure, Chloe. Thank you for saving Sheetal’s life. If you hadn’t been here… I never had the chance to ask – how did you get on with Fiona?’

  Chloe smiled. It seemed like a long time ago since she had been talking business, not a mere hour. ‘She’s very enthusiastic. The photosh
oot is all booked up for two days’ time.’

  Arron was suddenly back, phone still in hand, pushing into the group around Jonas and Chloe, murmuring apologies. ‘I would like to add my thanks to you, Chloe. You saved a life and we are all very grateful.’

  Uncomfortable, very aware of his intense grey gaze, Chloe felt her cheeks burn. ‘If it hadn’t been me it would have been someone else. You will let me know how she is, won’t you?’

  Arron smiled. ‘Of course. And, may I ask, what photoshoot were you talking about?’

  ‘It’s for Palm Bay Hotel,’ Chloe said. ‘They want to feature one of my horses. She’s a lovely palomino, so perfect for modelling. If it goes well, Palm Bay want to talk about a potential partnership contract.’

  ‘That’s great news!’ Arron beamed at her. His silver-grey hair was sticking up at the front and his jacket had a stain on the sleeve, but he exuded good humour. ‘So you won’t be selling up any time soon if business is going to be good?’

  How totally crass, Chloe thought, registering yet another social blunder. Out the corner of her eyes, she saw Jonas wince. ‘No. Even if business wasn’t good, I wouldn’t be selling up.’

  Arron raised both hands, laughing. ‘Sorry, sorry, if you don’t ask you don’t get. No offence taken I hope, Chloe? As my stepson knows, I do tend to rather put my foot in things a lot of the time.’

  How was he such an astute businessman? This clumsy, bumbling bear of a man, who now stood with his tie askew, a perfect contrast to his still immaculate stepson. ‘None at all’ – she smiled sweetly – ‘and now I really must go. Jonas, do let Melissa know I was asking after her. Maybe you could get her to call me about that potential client?’

  He nodded, and beside him, Arron said quickly, almost humbly, ‘I need her in New York quite a bit during the next few months, Jonas, so I doubt she’ll have much time for her own paintings.’