by Daisy White
The torch she had brought from the house was small and light. She used the beam to find the space between the boxes, and knelt in the dust. Chloe wriggled her fingers underneath the cardboard, and tugged out the package. Hilda, delighted at this unexpected outing, ran around sniffing for rats.
The package was undisturbed. Quickly, carefully, she unwrapped the plastic covering, running a gentle finger across the painting. All was as it should be. The only thing to do was to wait until the owner returned to claim it. A bird called high and shrill outside and she fumbled, dropping her torch. It fell with a little crack on the concrete flooring, leaving her in darkness.
Should she leave it here? Or hide it somewhere else? Melissa would come back for it, she was sure after their conversation on the beach. Perhaps even tonight?
Slipping out of the storage shed, she made a circuit of the yard, checking bolts and padlocks. The chickens, safe in their coop, murmured sleepily, but the horses were alert, tracking her progress with large dark eyes, nostrils slightly flared.
Hilda stopped in her wanderings and growled, hackles rising.
‘What’s wrong?’ Chloe whispered, her breath quickening, trying to see into the shadows.
The sea whispered soothingly in the distance, but her heart was thumping hard with fear. In the deeper darkness, by the gate to the trail, a movement made her gasp and Hilda leapt forward, barking.
‘Hallo, Chloe. I hope you don’t mind an impromptu visit. Please don’t be scared,’ Jonas said softly.
Swallowing down curse words, Chloe moved backwards, slowly, carefully, until she came up against Goldie’s stable door. He followed her, cat-footed amongst the shadows, trying to fend off Hilda, who was jumping stiff-legged around Chloe, barking and growling.
Unusually, he was wearing trainers and a jogging suit, his hair messy and sweat gleaming on his face. ‘I need your help.’
Chloe felt Goldie’s warm breath on her shoulder, and stretched a hand up to cup the soft muzzle. It was comforting, familiar. This was her own place and she wasn’t going to be bullied. ‘Okay, Hilda, it’s all right.’ She reached down and slipped her fingers under the dog’s collar, patting her head. The barks subsided, but her furry body trembled with growls. ‘We could go into the house?’ she suggested, annoyed to find her voice came out a tone too harsh.
‘No. Down here is probably safer. Melissa sent me.’
‘What? What the hell is going on, Jonas?’ Anger was pushing through her fear, making her stronger. Had he seen her go to the shed and inspect the package?
‘Did Melissa ever say anything to you, in confidence?’ His expression was pleading.
‘No?’ She was cautious. Perhaps she had misjudged him.
‘No… Chloe, there are things you don’t know, but I really believe that she is in danger.’
‘So go to the police.’
‘I can’t. That would make things worse.’ He came closer, reaching out to touch her arm. ‘I’m trying to help her, really I am. That’s why she sent me tonight. To get the painting.’
She shrank back. ‘Tell me what’s really going on. Why didn’t she call me to let me know?’
Distress clouded his eyes. He looked far from the sleek and well-groomed, charming businessman she had come to know. Now he seemed older, more vulnerable. ‘Okay, but you need to believe I love my sister and I don’t want to see her hurt. Melissa is very strong-willed.’ He moved away slightly as Hilda growled again. ‘She fell in love with Matthew Georgias, and… when he was murdered she was devastated. She said she wanted to find out who killed him.’
‘She didn’t know Kaila killed him?’
‘Of course not! How could she? But I’m afraid that now she has discovered the real murderer.’
‘What?’ Chloe’s head was spinning, and she couldn’t work out whether it was excess alcohol from the festival or sheer confusion over this whole conversation. ‘Jonas, we all know who did it now. The police have already charged Kaila Montana with the murder. She killed Matthew and she tried to kill Sheetal to see off the competition.’
Jonas dismissed this with a wave of his hand. ‘I saw Melissa after the Kite Festival, and she was scared. When Arron is in Bermuda he stays with us in the duplex, but he went into the office to answer a call. Melissa came and found me. She kept talking about Matthew’s death, and she was getting more and more upset. Eventually she went out, left the apartment and told me she needed to do something. I’ve tried her phone numerous times since then and she hasn’t answered.’
‘What’s Melissa’s relationship with Arron like?’ Chloe asked.
‘He is… very controlling. I told you he likes to interfere with the business at all levels. He considers Melissa and I to be part of his extensive list of possessions.’ Jonas scowled. ‘It can be hard, but mostly we get on with the work and keep our heads down. In Bermuda we’ve had more freedom.’
‘Why don’t you leave, start your own business somewhere else?’ Chloe said.
Jonas laughed. ‘Arron Stone is everywhere. If we tried to start anywhere in the art world he would crush us like bugs. He holds the purse strings, and we would have no money to start again.’
‘So do something else,’ Chloe said impatiently. She was trying to equate Jonas’ descriptions of his stepfather with the bumbling, try-too-hard man she had become used to seeing.
He shook his head. ‘I can’t.’
‘Melissa could.’
‘She’d never leave without me.’ Something like panic touched his eyes. ‘I need to take the painting now.’
‘The police still have it. How do I know you’re telling the truth?’ Chloe pulled out her phone. ‘Perhaps I should just call the police?’
His hand closed over hers, warm and firm, preventing her from further action. ‘No. It will do more harm than good. I came to you because I trust you, and you aren’t a part of any of this. I need your help. For Melissa’s sake, and for my own.’ His words practically mirrored his sister’s when she had stood, pleading with Chloe. ‘This needs to end now. If I can get the painting to Melissa, then I just need one more thing from you.’
She hesitated, her hand still in his. Physical contact seemed to come as naturally as breathing to Jonas, and now he held her fingers gently, pleading with his eyes. Finn had told her the police couldn’t help unless a crime had been committed, or unless Melissa asked for help. But now Jonas was asking for help, and he seemed so genuine. Should she trust him?
Chloe sighed. ‘What do you want me to do?’
31
After Jonas’ late-night visit Chloe lay awake for a long time, thinking about what he had said. Loose ends needed to be tied up, but was she stupid to put herself in danger?
In the end, she hadn’t given him the painting, sticking to her story and instead trying Melissa’s mobile, which was switched off. The obvious conclusion was that they were preparing to run away together, despite Jonas’ denials and apparent fear of his controlling stepfather. Chloe thought that maybe when Matthew was alive all three were preparing to run. That would explain why they needed that cash and the painting to live on. No bank cards would leave no paper trail. Was Arron really at the heart of this, or were the siblings trying to turn him into some kind of scapegoat for a drugs plot gone awry?
But Melissa now knew the cash had been stolen so they must have some more. If Kaila killed her ex-boyfriend, had she discovered he was going to run off with Melissa? Surely that would mean she had free rein to take his spot at the gallery, and no need to kill him. Jealousy? Chloe’s head felt like it was going to explode with all the different theories that last night had thrown up.
Jonas had indicated Kaila didn’t kill Matthew. That had definitely been the gist of the garbled conversation. But she also thought she now knew who did.
By dawn, Hilda was fast asleep on her tweed bed, and Chloe had a plan of action. She couldn’t involve Finn. He had already found his murderer and if Melissa was wrong it could create all kinds of trouble for him, and for her. No,
she would sort it out herself.
She dropped her dog with Ailsa, who gave her a hard look, but asked no more questions than normal.
‘I think I just need a morning off,’ Chloe explained carefully.
Ailsa nodded, fussed over Hilda and took two scones from a tin, wrapping them in cling film. She held them out to Chloe, who winced away. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Sorry, Ailsa, but I’m a bit phobic about cling film. I’m really sorry and I know it’s weird, it just makes me feel all cold and clammy…’
Ailsa laughed. ‘You’re scared of sandwich wrapping? Girl, you are something else.’ But she rewrapped her gift in a paper bag and pushed it into Chloe’s hands. ‘Off you go and have a bit of time to yourself.’
‘Thanks, Ailsa.’ Chloe smiled gratefully, shamefaced at having revealed her rather odd phobia.
After feeding and mucking out quickly, she left a note tacked to Goldie’s door telling Antoine she had decided to go out for the day. It was the only way she could think of not bumping into anyone and not being tempted to tell Finn about Jonas’ visit. Or her reluctant agreement to help him and his sister.
She got the first bus that came and studied her maps. Something challenging, something that would completely distract her from tonight… Her finger paused on the map. Perfect.
The Blue Hole was buried deep in Tom Moore’s Jungle. She remembered visiting the trails as a child, peering at the still waters of the hole in trepidation. Now, social media was full of pictures showing backpackers leaping into the depths. It was a challenge, and it would keep her out all day.
She got the bus to the stop opposite the jungle trail, thanked the driver and hoisted her small rucksack onto her shoulders. The sun was already warming the dusty trail, and she was grateful for the shady trees as she plunged deeper into the jungle.
It was a beautiful place, and Chloe was early enough to miss the crowds. Following her map, she trudged carefully through the vines and twisted trunks to The Hole.
There was a new wooden walkway and viewing platform, along with a sign asking people not to swim in the waters. Chloe watched the still blueness, vanishing into dark rocky caves on two sides, and the jungle ravine on the other two. Bubbles drifted across the water as some fish or other creature swam underneath.
Chloe stripped down to her swimsuit, leaving her belongings underneath the viewing platform. The sharp rocks and coral made her wince, as they bruised her bare feet. But she slipped down to the water without major incident.
It was unexpectedly freezing, and she could see dark shapes that might have been fish. Without any further thought, she pushed off. The icy water made her gasp, and she swam quickly out to the very centre, treading water and spluttering. The sun heated the bare skin on her shoulders, but she was shivering, goosebumps dotting her arms. For a second she thought she caught a glimpse of movement on the left bank, but as a bird flew up, she relaxed.
It was incredible. The eerie solitude, and the natural beauty of the place made her almost feel like crying. She swam slowly around the perimeter, inspecting beautiful plants, tendrils and leaves seeming to dip tentative fingers into the oily blue depths.
The caves went a little way into the cliff and dripped with stalactites. On her way back to the platform, Chloe took a deep breath for courage, and ducked under, swimming strongly, eyes open. A shoal of multicoloured fish shimmied away from her, but a larger, languid, grey specimen merely stared at her as it passed. The weed fronds near the bottom stroked her legs, and some tiny yellow fish darted around in a patch of sunlight.
Surfacing, she took deep breaths of the warm air, relishing the sun’s rays on her head. ‘I did it!’
She found she was laughing as she swam back, and hastily towelled down. By the time she had changed and strolled back up through the jungle, the tourists were starting to arrive, and the vines rang with children’s laughter. At every corner people were snapping pictures, exclaiming over the views.
It was beautiful, and she had had it all to herself. All the same, Chloe thought, she would certainly heed the signs in future, about not swimming in the natural water holes. This had been a one-time thing, a challenge accepted and completed. She had taken care not to wear any sunscreen because she knew of the dangers to the precious biodiversity in this area.
She checked her phone when she got back to the road, and saw a missed call from Finn, and a text from her ‘unknown caller’:
Stay safe, Chloe, and stay away from the gallery.
Shoving the phone back into her bag, she set off up the hill for a late brunch at The Swizzle Inn. She hoped to stay safe but she certainly wasn’t going to stay away from the gallery. Although the texts seemed more and more to mean her no harm, she would be glad to discover who was sending them… Had there been someone tailing her today, watching the house on the night of the fire? A guardian angel or someone more sinister?
Chloe sat for a long time at her roadside table, sating her hunger on fishcakes, chips and mango juice, and just resisting the urge to order a Rum Swizzle. After yesterday’s binge at the picnic, she needed to keep a clear head today.
The impulse to escape and to challenge herself that had sent her down to catch the early bus, had been a good one. Tired now, she decided to catch the next bus, which would go back to Hamilton as a matter of course. Having sent the artwork through via email, she could pick up her flyers, have a wander around, maybe reacquaint herself with Front Street, even see if the old apartment she had shared with Dre as a child was still there. A quick cup of coffee at any of the abundant cafes and she could go home safe in the knowledge she was ready for tonight.
32
The Dockyard was full of shadows.
Patches of grey, and a deeper darkness around the taller buildings that made Chloe’s heart beat faster. A cruise ship sat squat and enormous, lights glittering like a sinister sea creature.
‘Are you sure you’ve got the right time? I can’t see any lights on in the shopping mall…’ Peter said. ‘Look, I’ll get a bit closer. That’ll save us carrying the box so far.’
Chloe was very aware that although the box was fairly large, it was quite a pathetic excuse for her gallery visit so late at night. ‘Thanks, Peter. I… I would have dropped them off earlier but they weren’t ready for me.’
He said nothing, but reversed the taxi neatly into an empty space opposite the mall, and helped Chloe unload the box of flyers. It was the cover she and Jonas had agreed on. Her stomach was full of fluttering nerves, as underneath the box was the package containing The Painted Lady. Hilda, settled for the evening with a bone, had watched in disgust as Chloe went out and left her again.
‘Jonas said he’d come out and meet us,’ Chloe told the taxi driver, as they headed for the side door. ‘He was going to leave the door unlocked…’ Her voice trailed off as they approached the building. She remembered his voice, soft and urgent in the darkness:
‘Meet me at the gallery at half nine. You were going to bring your flyers down anyway. Do it tomorrow night instead of in daylight. Get Peter to drive you over, just as you would if we were really working late, ready for the next exhibition. Melissa and I will meet you in the gallery. We’ll tell you everything. There is no reason for anyone else to be there, but if they are, just explain that you’re setting up ready for the event.’
Security lights flickered on, illuminating the path directly in front. The side door was made of glass and metal. Chloe put her box down and pushed it gently.
The door opened smoothly into darkness.
‘Jonas? Melissa? It’s me, Chloe!’ she called. But her voice echoed through the empty mall, and their footsteps seemed far too sharp for the silence. ‘It’s odd the gallery lights are off. He said he’d be working until at least ten, getting ready for tomorrow.’
They advanced towards the gallery and Chloe heard a quick intake of breath from Peter. The glass doors were smashed, as though somebody had thrown a heavy object against them.
‘Hallo? Is anybody
there?’ Peter called.
They stopped, surveying the damage, their shoes crunching on scattered glass.
‘Did you say Jonas and his sister would be here?’ Peter asked, his voice tense.
‘Something must have happened to him. Do they have security at Dockyard?’ Chloe found she was shaking.
‘Yes. There’s an office on the other side of the marina, next to where the cruise ships dock.’
‘Can you go and get them? I’ll wait just outside the side door. Leave all this stuff. It doesn’t matter. Something’s badly wrong,’ Chloe said, trying to keep her voice steady.
‘Will you be all right?’
‘Yes. Whatever happened there’s nobody here now. And if I yelled, you’d still hear me from over there.’ She pointed towards the cruise ship.
Peter nodded and set off at a brisk walk, skirting the water. His shadow vanished into other shadows, and Chloe turned back to the gallery, shivering with fear.
Moving quickly, she retraced their steps. ‘Melissa? Are you there?’
There was no answer, but feeling braver at the sound of her own voice, she clicked the main lights on. The interior of the gallery showed no signs of damage. Paintings still hung in their places, and a stack of boxes sat against the counter.
She walked over, noting the various artworks that were clearly in the process of being unwrapped. These must be the sculptures Jonas had been talking about.
A laptop charging lead sat on top of the counter. Chloe made her way into the office. It was neat and tidy. The labels for tomorrow in coloured piles. A bundle of flyers advertising the event. But there was no laptop. What had Jonas often said? He carried it everywhere. Surely he would have been referring to files as he worked.