Murder on the Island

by Daisy White

  A US paper had picked up the story, and offered more of the same, including the fact that Matthew’s work had been chosen over Kaila’s for both the Bermuda gallery and the Madrid gallery. There was also a few lines about her previous drug conviction, leading to a theory that a gang of artists had been trying to break into an international drug ring.

  The fact that Kaila was now proudly displaying work in Madrid and Bermuda, a week after her ex-boyfriend’s death, was deemed by the press to indicate quite enough motive for murder. A B&B owner, who had a place on Harbour Road, was quoted as saying Kaila had flown into Bermuda the previous month, stayed one night at his B&B and flown out again the day after.

  Another source, American photographer Shay Taylor, appeared to have reported another sighting of someone driving very fast late the night Matthew was killed, in the vicinity of Chloe’s house. No doubt he had been out taking photographs of some ruined buildings, she thought.

  Remembering her chat with Finn, which now felt like weeks ago, Chloe tapped the name Shay Taylor on Instagram, and wasn’t at all surprised to see photos of Dockyard at night. Looking more closely, she could see they were beautifully staged and really very professional. In some, a young woman she took to be Shay’s girlfriend appeared in the shadows, looking dreamy or dramatic, depending on the shot.

  Scrolling down, noting the many thousands of followers, Chloe thought she could understand the lure of photographing these old ruins. It seemed that Shay and his girlfriend travelled constantly. There were pictures of abandoned hospitals in Europe, great derelict houses in the USA and a whole lost village somewhere in Russia.

  Some of the more recent pictures, apart from the Dockyard ones, looked familiar, and it was a while before Chloe realised that it must be Tranquility House, her neighbourhood Sleeping Beauty ruin. The views from the unboarded window showed the stone gateway, and the moon over the sea.

  Looking at the time, Chloe hastily left the laptop, picked up the basket and went into the garden to peg her washing out. Could Kaila be responsible for Melissa’s bruise, her insistence that Chloe hide the painting and money for her and keep her secret? And a great job she had done of that, she thought with a stab of remorse. She’d told the police about both and lost the whole package.

  Melissa would be back soon, but she had made no effort to get in touch. Chloe, pegging up a blue shirt with quick, efficient fingers, supposed she would just have to be patient.

  As the clock ticked towards the time arranged for the photoshoot, Chloe was overwhelmed with support from her neighbours, who had now all heard Goldie was back. Peter the taxi driver sweetly popped in mid-afternoon.

  ‘It’s just a bad run. You’ll be fine now you’ve settled in, and I’ve told everyone you’re making a real go of things,’ Peter said, smiling at her as he leant against his taxi. ‘And look, I’ve got a couple of bits from the wife. She always thought a lot of Dre and she was pleased when she heard you were making a go of the stables.’

  He reached into the boot of the taxi and brought out a bottle of rum in a paper bag and a jewellery box.

  Chloe thanked him profusely for the rum – she was definitely acquiring a taste for it! Intrigued by the square wooden box, she flicked it open and gasped. A pretty necklace on a silver chain nestled amongst shredded paper. The star-shaped pendant was clear glass, and filled with pink Bermuda sand.

  ‘I hope you’re right and thank you so much for the gifts.’ Chloe was especially delighted with the necklace, and almost embarrassed. ‘Please thank your wife too.’

  ‘No problem. Her best friend has a jewellery store in Hamilton. Dre had one just like that. Wore it all the time. You know, your grandmother would be proud of you, Chloe.’

  ‘I hope so,’ Chloe said softly, ‘I really do.’

  ‘So. When do you want to pick up your dog?’

  ‘I’ve managed to get a lift from… from a friend to pick her up tonight but thank you so much for offering. Sorry to keep messing you around and I’m sure Helen thinks I’m mad, but everything keeps going wrong, and I can’t pick her up and then leave her in the house alone while I go off to the photoshoot,’ Chloe explained. ‘So Helen said I could go tonight after the centre is closed.’

  ‘Special treatment?’ Peter winked at her. ‘Helen knew Dre, didn’t she?’

  ‘Yes, I’m very lucky,’ Chloe agreed.

  ‘It’ll be nice for you to have a dog around the place. I don’t think Dre ever had one, but she had a few cats along with her other animals. Mainly for her it was the horses that were number one though!’

  Having finally waved Peter off down the driveway, Chloe, clutching her gifts, walked slowly back inside. She put the bottle on the table and carefully drew out the necklace. It glittered in the rays of sunlight that danced through her shutters. Very gently, she traced the lines of the star, before turning to the opposite wall and her photographs.

  Sure enough, in one picture Dre was wearing an open-neck shirt. Hair and shirt were billowing in the wind and the star-shaped necklace could clearly be seen against her tanned skin.

  Chloe smiled at her grandmother, her eyes wet. ‘Are you really watching what I do? I think you’d like it that Goldie’s going to be a model horse… And I want you to know that I’m going to save the business. Whatever it takes.’

  The sound of her own voice brought her back into the room, and she wiped her eyes before fastening her new necklace around her neck. It lay cool and heavy against her breastbone, the chain just the right length to show it off.

  Her phone beeped, and Chloe’s heart jumped briefly, before she smiled in relief at a text from Finn, confirming their dinner tonight. It would be good to unwind after the chaos of the last few days, and she could catch up on his cases.

  With an hour left till the photoshoot, Chloe popped down to the yard to roll her sleeves up and make sure everything was spick and span.

  Antoine had worked wonders with Goldie and her coat gleamed like pure gold, her white mane and tail floating like candyfloss in the breeze. He was now hard at work grooming the other horses.

  ‘Do you want me to help with the grooming, or tidying the yard?’ Chloe asked.

  ‘The horses are pretty much ready, so you can do the yard,’ Antoine told her. He was stripped to the waist, combing out Star’s long black tail.

  Chloe seized the broom and barrow and started sweeping the concrete. The dust and sand made her sneeze, but she kept at it, hearing Antoine murmuring endearments to the horses as he groomed.

  She found a stepladder and tied up the bougainvillea, which was draped in swags across the white stable roof. A yellow hibiscus was climbing across the tack room, and in the afternoon sunshine it looked wonderful. Chloe fetched a couple of metal chairs and a little round table from her garden, and put them next to the fence overlooking the sea.

  ‘Fiona said something about a champagne and romance package,’ she explained when Antoine came out of Candy’s box and gave the furniture a look of surprise.

  Chloe snipped a few hibiscus flowers and filled a pretty vase from the yard tap, arranging them as a centrepiece on the table.

  ‘If they drink a bottle of champagne before they ride, they’ll probably fall off,’ Antoine pointed out, grinning.

  ‘Not for us to worry about. That’s Fiona’s department. Perhaps they just have a glass when they get back from a romantic gallop along the beach?’ Chloe suggested.

  ‘Galloping is not romantic,’ Antoine informed her, ducking as she chucked a sponge at him. ‘Bad luck, Mrs C. Bet you never played cricket at school!’

  ‘Back to work, and actually I did play cricket,’ Chloe told him, laughing. ‘Sport was my favourite thing at school, but I was better at hockey and football.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘Oh help, we’ve only got twenty minutes!’

  Together, they tidied the muck-heap, arranged the buckets in neat piles and finally, sweating and filthy, checked each horse. Shiny bay, chestnut and gold heads looked eagerly from each stable. Chloe picked up a fe
w stray petals from the immaculate yard.

  ‘Perfect! Do you want an iced drink, Antoine?’

  ‘Please.’ He was pulling his shirt back over his head.

  ‘Help yourself while I get changed,’ Chloe told him as they headed for the house. Her stomach was churning with nerves. The moment had arrived. This was make or break for the business. At least she was satisfied that the horses and yard looked as good as they possibly could.

  The goats and chickens had been moved into the field for the day, and the weather was absolutely perfect. Just a light breeze ruffling the smooth golden warmth of the afternoon.

  Back in the house, Chloe quickly checked her voicemail. Nothing. That was good. After everything that had happened, she was still expecting something to go wrong. Fiona not to turn up at all perhaps, or one of the models down with food poisoning. Cursing herself for being negative, she showered briskly and changed into a smart flower-print dress, feeling she should make an effort as Goldie’s owner. Her damp hair went into a long plait and she added a quick dash of make-up.

  Antoine had just finished his drink when they heard vehicles on the driveway. The photographer’s assistant and the models were bumping slowly over the ruts.

  ‘Showtime.’ Antoine grinned at her as they went outside.

  Her stomach was full of butterflies, and she could feel her jaw clenched and the beginnings of a headache. This had to work…

  Gradually, as introductions were made, Chloe began to feel better. The sick feelings receded and there was real pride in showing off the results of their hard work.

  The photographer was delighted with Goldie, and Fiona was in raptures about the whole thing. Under the circumstances, Chloe and Beachside Stables were garnering a lot of sympathy and a lot of press.

  ‘It’s put you on the map, and people want you to succeed,’ Fiona told Chloe. ‘Oh your yard looks beautiful! This is just perfect for honeymooners. A little rest from everything before they plunge into the grim reality of married life.’

  Chloe glanced at her, startled by the comment. Although she was laughing, Chloe thought she could detect a definite air of bitterness and exchanged a quick look with Antoine. Goodness, what a business to be in if you had been unlucky in love yourself!

  The photographer, Stewart, was setting up his equipment, and taking test shots, while the models started hair and make-up in the shade of the tack room.

  Chloe tried to stay out of the way, but soon found herself fussing over the horses, combing out Goldie’s forelock just so, and giving the metal buckles on her bridle a last polish. One of the models was chatting to Antoine, asking him if he was in the business and recommending agents. He was laughing and shaking his head at the idea.

  The whole group was soon gossiping about Goldie’s kidnap. According to Vera, the model who would be portrayed as the bride, rumours were now rife about who was trying to put them out of business.

  ‘And people asked me who would have wanted to stop the photoshoot, and if I had any enemies,’ Stewart said. ‘Or even if there was some kind of vendetta directed at Palm Bay Hotel and the new management.’

  Fiona, who had been admiring the view, and setting up the inevitable bottle of champagne and crystal glasses, looked up sharply at this. ‘How ridiculous,’ she snapped, ‘I think we need to focus on the job in hand.’

  Gossip died to a murmur and Chloe, now leaning on the fence, watched Fiona tapping efficiently on her tablet. She caught Chloe looking and winked at her. ‘Got to keep up with social media. It’s terrible what happened, but Goldie has become a bit of a heroine. A PR gift horse!’ She laughed, but this time the warmth was back and the bitterness gone.

  Chloe smiled back, but her mind was questioning Fiona’s words. It had undeniably been good PR for the stables, and Palm Bay Hotel had made no secret they were using Goldie for their brochure. Surely that wouldn’t be a reason to steal a horse though?

  21

  Chloe tried very hard to put her worries aside, watching with pride as her horse was photographed on the beach. The pink and gold from the sun turned the waves into a magical fairy tale setting. Goldie was behaving beautifully, despite her misadventures.

  The models, dressed up in wedding clothes, went through a variety of poses, and ended up with Vera, her long lace dress floating in the breeze, riding Goldie bareback along the pink sand, while her ‘husband’ looked on admiringly from the rocks.

  ‘Perfect! Just what I wanted,’ Fiona said, beaming at the photographer as she looked through the shots. ‘In fact, it’s going to be hard to know which ones to choose. Chloe, thank you for loaning us the horse. I’ll make sure you get a credit on our website, and on the print brochure.’

  ‘I took some shots of your yard as well, so if you want to use them in your own publicity, you’re more than welcome.’ Stewart smiled at Chloe. ‘I’ll send them over when I’ve done the final edits.’

  ‘Oh thank you, that would be wonderful,’ Chloe told him, slightly dizzy with relief and happiness. They had done it! The first step to saving the yard and all its occupants was completed.

  ‘We’ll get going, then. I’ll email you the links tomorrow,’ Fiona said briskly as they arrived back at the yard. ‘And I think the whole set-up is just perfect for what we discussed. The romance package? The hotel is only five miles from here, and your little yard on the top of the cliff is very intimate. It’ll be a welcome addition to our brochure.’

  ‘Thank you so much, Fiona. I’m just glad we got Goldie back in time!’ Chloe said. Having been so keyed up and stressed, the whole event couldn’t have run more smoothly, and as the adrenaline faded she began to feel drained and exhausted.

  Antoine had been ready to take Goldie back to her stable as soon as the shoot was over. He fussed over her, taking extra care to rub her down until her golden coat was once again soft and gleaming. She hadn’t settled completely, despite her exemplary behaviour at the photoshoot.

  Chloe gave all the horses carrots and waved goodbye to Fiona and her team as the vehicles trundled off down the dusty driveway.

  All she really wanted was a soak in the bath and a glass of wine before she got ready for dinner with Finn. Oh God, and the locksmith was coming. She’d nearly forgotten!

  Antoine offered to do the horses, but she was determined to continue doing more, making it a real team effort, so she stayed outside, turning the mares out into their paddock, bringing the chickens and their coop back into the safety of the yard for the night.

  ‘Hey, they left the champagne!’ Antoine noticed, as they finally, wearily, locked the tack room and prepared to leave.

  ‘You take it,’ Chloe told him. ‘It was opened so it would be such a waste to just leave it. Treat Louisa to a few glasses.’ Out the corner of her eye she could see a young man walking round the corner of her house, bag in hand. That must be the locksmith.

  ‘If you’re sure…’ Antoine grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief, as he picked up his rucksack. ‘She always says I’m never romantic enough.’

  ‘Well there you go. Surprise her. See you tomorrow,’ Chloe said, lifting a hand in farewell, and whisking through the gate towards the house. So much for her long soak, she was going to have to get a move on to be ready in time.

  Next to the back door was a smart, red tweed dog bed, a bag of dry food and a cardboard box. This, when she peeked inside, contained red bowls marked DOG, and the brown leather collar and lead she’d picked out. She smiled, and made a note to slip Ailsa a few dollars to give to the boy. It was a lot to carry and he had brought everything she’d ordered.

  The locksmith, whose name was Benji, was waiting patiently for her, ready to change all the locks on both her windows and doors. She let him in, and made him a cup of tea and having arranged Hilda’s corner of the kitchen to her liking, started ironing her dress for tonight.

  ‘I read in the paper about your horse being stolen,’ he said conversationally, as he started work.

  ‘Yes. She’s back now though, thank goodness.�
�� Chloe wasn’t in the mood for chit-chat, but she thought he seemed a sweet boy and it would be awful to appear rude when he had done her a favour and come out so late.

  ‘Well that’s one way to get the police to visit!’ He laughed.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Chloe asked sharply.

  Benji shrugged, and flushed. ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just that my sister said with everything going on at Beachside Stables people will wonder if you’ve got a thing going with Inspector Harlow.’

  Chloe was furious. ‘Tell your sister that she shouldn’t listen to idiots. Perhaps she’d like to be the one dealing with all this?’ Her rage died at his squirming embarrassment. ‘Sorry, Benji, it isn’t your fault, but I’m trying so hard to make a go of things, and it isn’t easy. Sorry, you really must excuse me, I need to hang this dress up.’

  But as she stepped into her bedroom, thoughts switching from missing horses, malicious gossip and murder to panic over whether the dress she planned to wear was still creased, she stopped dead.

  Laid neatly on the clean sheets was a familiar package. The Painted Lady was back. Her phone buzzed with a text and she raised a hand to study the screen, her attention still riveted on the painting:

  Be careful, Chloe. This isn’t over. Watch your back because you never know who’s behind you.

  22

  Great. Was somebody watching the house, waiting for her to go through to the bedroom and discover the painting, so they could send the text at the optimum time?

  She threw the phone on the bed, her earlier anger breaking through again. She turned her attention back to the painting, fumbling through the plastic with shaking hands. The painting was undamaged at least. But the money was gone. Clearly whoever had taken it stole what they wanted and returned what they deemed to be useless. This surely must narrow down the thief?Trouble was, she had been in and out of the house all day, with plenty of visitors, not to mention the whole team Fiona had brought along. And Jordan… Jordan could have delivered the dog packages and used Ailsa’s key to let himself in while they were all out on the beach. It would have been a perfect opportunity. He might not know enough about art to realise the picture was more valuable than the cash. But harder to dispose of?