The Corpse with the Crystal Skull

by Cathy Ace

  Nina replied faster than Niall could. “He’s such a good sailor. So confident on the water. I do not think they have invented the vessel he couldn’t sail. It was a great shame for me that Luca was never interested in boats. I should have enjoyed a yacht. Niall keeps a boat here, don’t you? A special little one I gave him as a gift.” Niall nodded. “He takes me out in it sometimes. I enjoy seeing my home from the sea. It is very beautiful from the sea.” I imagined it would look stunning. Nina giggled. “Sometimes we would sail past Freddie’s tower at sunset, when he was screaming out his song about his queen. He hated it, because we would make the engines roar, wouldn’t we, Niall?”

  Niall nodded. “He did. And, yes, I still run the resort, and the boat business, much as Dad did.” He sounded glum.

  “And how is business?” asked Lottie.

  “Tourism’s down, generally, but we’re doing okay. Good reputation, regular guests, that sort of thing.” He talked as he chewed. Not a pleasant sight.

  “Nina mentioned you’d like to develop the old place,” continued Lottie. “That would cost a pretty penny, so your lawyering and real estate business must be flourishing.”

  “Niall is an excellent lawyer, and realtor,” said Nina. “Look at what he has achieved for me. Arnold, more champagne.” Arnold approached, wearing a surprisingly sour expression.

  “It’s all going well, thank you for asking, Lottie.” Niall was certainly subdued in Lottie’s company, so much so that I noticed Nina giving him a quizzical look. I spotted a flash of…jealousy? Yes, that was it. So, Lottie’s focus on her man was starting to irritate Nina as much as it had annoyed me when Lottie had been batting her eyelids at Bud. I wondered if Nina knew about the history between Lottie and Niall. I suspected not, because she wasn’t the sort of woman who would have let it pass without comment.

  “This deal for Nina must be good for you too,” said Lottie. “You’re bound to be making almost a million dollars from it yourself. Or did Niall cut you a deal on the legal fees, Nina? Payment in kind maybe?”

  I was taken aback by the sharpness of Lottie’s comments. The collective intake of breath around the table told me I wasn’t alone. I watched Nina and Niall. Nina’s eyes sparkled, her lips pressed into a thin line. Niall slumped.

  Lottie drained her glass. “Niall was very good at letting the girls pay for things in kind, back in the old days. Used to swap ganja for all sorts of favors at school, didn’t you Niall?”

  This could get messy, I thought to myself.

  Bud reached over and pressed his hand onto my leg. I swear he’d have whispered, “Down, girl,” if he could have got away with it.

  Nina looked surprised. “You and Niall were in school together?”

  “We were a few years apart,” said Niall. His voice quivered.

  “Ah, but so much closer than that in other ways, right, Niall?” Lottie’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Did he ever tell you just how close we got, Nina? No? That’s a surprise, because he couldn’t wait to tell everyone at school about it. It must have made you feel so special, Niall, joking with your chums about my inexperience. Not much fun for me, of course. Indeed, it was why I became rather depressed and had to leave. First school, then the island. So, when Mummy needed me most, I wasn’t of any use to her; I was too wrapped up in my own dismal little world, full of therapists, and pills. And all because I agreed to Niall’s seemingly ‘good deal’. I do hope he hasn’t done the same sort of thing to you, Nina.”

  Nina thrust her chin in Arnold’s general direction, who marched across the room. He pulled back her chair, and she rose. “Call for the transport, Arnold. My guests are leaving.” She turned and walked out of the dining room – head held high, heels clicking on the marble floor, chiffon skirt swirling.

  Niall pushed back his chair, threw down his napkin, stood, and drained his glass. “You always were a stuck-up little bitch, Charlotte,” he snarled. “And I know you think you’ve messed up things for me here, but you haven’t. You’ll run back to Daddy any day now, like you always used to, but you can’t get him to do your dirty work anymore.” His Jamaican accent strengthened as he grew redder in the face. “This is the grown-up world, not school. And if you think a few poisonous words are going to spoil things for me with Nina, you’re very much mistaken. She and I understand the world as it really is. You? You’re still in the playground.” He stomped out of the room, leaving us all stunned, and the serving staff studying their toes.

  Arnold reappeared. “Your transport is ready. Allow me to escort you off the premises.” His tone was anything but warm.

  We could do nothing but accept the help offered to the ladies to leave their seats, and walk in a straggling line through the great room toward the entrance hall. I didn’t think we’d ever be seeing it again.

  Tension and Talk

  We rode back to the estate in silence, except for the odd “Ow” as we bumped along. As I pulled on my swimming two-piece back at our bungalow I called to Bud, “I’m having a dip in the pool. Back in half an hour.” I had to move my body about a bit, or I felt I might explode; I’m not good with tension.

  I relished being alone in the cool water, and sadly realized I wouldn’t have many more chances to enjoy the sensation. It had been okay having Jack and Sheila around for a week – not that we’d been joined at the hip, because they’d wanted to explore the island without us. Indeed, Sheila had spent hours being entertained by the macho types at Ocho Rios who were convinced they’d easily master the water jet packs that sent them shooting up from the sea, only to come crashing down – unceremoniously – back into it. When she told us about that at dinner one night she’d laughed so much she’d given herself hiccups.

  But my favorite memories of our visit were of the times when it was just me and Bud, the pool, the sun, a couple of good books, and a cold beer when we wanted it. The simple pleasures in life. In a few days we’d be back at home, coping with all the reality we could handle, so I allowed my mind to wander as I made cycling motions underwater while holding onto edge of the pool. It was almost exercise. Maybe I could work out what had happened to Freddie just by waggling my legs about?

  “Penny for them.”

  I squinted, and saw John’s silhouette against the achingly blue sky. He lowered himself into the water beside me.

  “Honestly, nothing, at that moment,” I lied. “How are you doing?” You’re opening a can of extremely wriggly worms, Cait, I told myself.

  “I made a mistake bringing Lottie with me,” he said bluntly. “A dreadful mistake. I don’t know how I allowed her to talk me into doing it, in all honesty.”

  “Maybe you weren’t making decisions all that rationally.”

  “Wrong part of me doing the thinking, more like.”

  “It happens. Is it over now?” I knew there was no point beating about the bush with John, and after all he’d done for me and Bud, I owed him at least some directness and honesty.

  He dunked himself under the water; when he emerged, he shook his head like Marty does – I missed Marty, for a longing moment – then he let out a hollow chuckle. “You could say that. She’s off to a hotel for the next couple of nights. Packing now. I have to stay here, of course. But I can’t tell her why I’m not doing the gentlemanly thing and allowing her to stay with all of you. Not that she wants to. I don’t think she wants to face any of us, ever again. Not difficult when it comes to the four of you, who live in Canada, but she and I might find it a challenge to not trip over each other within our circles in London.”

  “Sorry, John,” was all I thought it wise to say.

  “It’s alright,” he replied heavily. He leaned closer to me. “I just hope she hasn’t endangered the mission.”

  “I don’t see how her attempt to get her revenge on Niall can have done that,” I replied. “It might have been a somewhat fruitless exercise, but I reckon she’s been storing up that vitriol for years. It sounds like Niall wounded her much more deeply than I’d ima
gined.”

  “I was shocked, to be honest,” said John. “I hadn’t noticed anything in her character that would suggest she could hold such a grudge. She’s only ever appeared to be a surprisingly well-balanced woman, considering her family background. Though it turns out there’s quite a lot about her I didn’t know. Like her long-term connection with this place, for starters. I mean, what are the odds of that?”

  I struggled with how to respond, then decided to speak my mind. “Really John, for someone in your line of work I find it remarkable that you’re as surprised as you are. Having discovered what we have about Lottie over the past few days, don’t you think it’s quite likely she targeted you, in order to wangle a way to be exactly where we are now? For example, how far in advance of this mission did you know about it? If you became involved with Lottie a couple of months ago, could the start of your relationship have somehow been connected to this very mission? Bud and I knew we were coming here three weeks before we arrived, and we’ve been here almost a month…a window of seven weeks, at least. Would her father, Tarquin, have known about this? Could he have said something to her? Could Roger Rustingham have told Tarquin about Freddie? When did you realize Freddie was involved? Let’s be honest, Lottie had a couple of very good reasons to want to be here – to try to find out about what she believed was Freddie Burkinshaw’s discovery of a treasure trove she seems obsessed with, and to have a chance to reconnect with Niall and put him in his place. It all suggests a set up, to me.”

  John’s darting eyes, then his horrified stare, told me he hadn’t considered any of these possibilities. The way his brow furrowed further informed me he realized my points made sense. He squeezed his eyes shut. “Dear God, Cait, there’s no fool like an old fool, is there? I didn’t see it at all. I thought she wanted to be with me. Really believed it. All my training, all those years in the field, they just didn’t come into play. I’d have done almost anything for her, you know. Am I that desperate to feel attractive? Wanted? Am I really just a lonely old man? Or, worse, a man of an age where he’ll allow himself to be exploited by someone who makes him feel reinvigorated?”

  He lay back, allowing himself to sink beneath the surface. When he came up for air, I could sense a change in his attitude; he’d arrived at the pool feeling sorry for himself, now he was angry.

  He swam toward the ladder and hauled himself out. He shook his entire body, grabbed a towel, and dried himself off. Before he left, he looked down at me and said, “Thanks, Cait. That helped. And Lottie’s not going anywhere until I’ve had this out with her. If her father’s been in the know about this thing from the off, there could be implications. Just don’t say anything to Bud or Jack for now. I’ll…I’ll fill them in when I have better intel.”

  “I felt it best to say what I really thought,” I replied.

  “And I appreciate that, Cait. See you later. We have a plan for after sunset, regarding the tower. My time is my own until then, and I’ll make the best possible use of it.”

  I, too, got out of the pool – not with as much ease as John had done – and towelled myself dry. I was just about to head back to the bungalow when I heard Tarone’s voice.

  “Mrs. Cait, my granny come home, and she ask if she can talk with you.” I thought his face might crack, his smile was so wide.

  I was surprised. “You’re both back? How did you get here?” I knew the Suburban hadn’t left the estate since John and Lottie had returned in it the evening before.

  “Miss Lottie, she give us a number to call for a car. Pay for it too. She a good woman.”

  If only you knew, was what I thought. “How is your grandmother?” was what I said.

  “She doing good, but she keen to talk to you. She say, can you come over?”

  “I’d be delighted to, Tarone. Just let me get into some dry clothes? Give me maybe ten minutes.”

  “Good, we see you then. She bakin’ already, you know. Banana bread. She feelin’ good, I can tell.”

  I interrupted a telephone conversation Bud was having when I got back to the bungalow. He was pacing, and his body language told me he wasn’t just having a happy chat. I scuttled off and got myself dressed, then wrote a note telling him where I was going and waggled it under his nose. I got a thumbs-up, and I headed over to Amelia’s home. I wished I had something to take her, by way of a welcome home gift, but the only thing I could think of was to pick some flowers along the way, and that seemed a bit silly; I’m not keen on cut flowers as a gift – it’s like handing someone a bunch of things that are already dying. I told myself I’d offer to help her in any way I could instead of bringing something, and knocked on her door, looking forward to seeing her.

  The dressing taped to Amelia’s forehead took me aback. “Oh, that looks nasty,” I said. I’d meant my first words to her to be more supportive, but they were already out, so I added, “But you’re looking great otherwise.”

  Her kind smile broadened. “I look like the old woman I am.” She stood back and invited me in.

  I hadn’t been inside her home before and was surprised that it was no bigger than the space Bud and I had been sharing. Our bungalow was perfect for a couple staying for a short period, but the small sitting room, with a bedroom and bathroom attached, just didn’t seem sufficient to accommodate both Amelia and Tarone. A sofa bed in the sitting room, a double hotplate and toaster oven in the corner, and a slightly larger fridge than Bud and I used for chilling beers and water were the only differences between our accommodations. The décor made the place feel even smaller – happier, but smaller. Our bungalow was all white, with pale blue accents; Amelia’s home was decked out in every colour of the rainbow, plus a few more, and the mixture of patterns was almost overwhelming.

  The other thing I noticed was the smell of baking. My tummy rumbled. Amelia must have heard it because she immediately said, “Warm banana bread ain’t good for you – it taste good, but it not good for the body. You have to wait a while, then you can have some.” She moved a few things off the sofa bed, and I perched on the edge.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked.

  “I been worse, and the doctor say I be fine.”

  “You give us all a fright, Granny,” said Tarone, who’d entered from the back of the house. “She got to be quiet, the doctor say. I say to him she don’t know how to be that. Him say she must try. You hear him, don’t you, Granny? You have to be quiet.” He looked tired, worn out by concern, and older than his years.

  “You can keep an eye on her now,” I said.

  “Him got to go back to Kingston tomorrow. Selection races. Him got to go, you tell him.” Amelia’s eyes pleaded with me.

  Why would he listen to me, not you? I thought.

  “You should listen to your grandmother, she’s a wise woman, Tarone. How long will you be in Kingston?”

  “Supposed to be until Sunday afternoon.” He looked grim.

  “We’re here until Sunday lunchtime, we’ll keep an eye on her for you.”

  Tarone sucked his teeth. “It not right. She just come home from hospital. I can’t go back there tomorrow.”

  “The bus is at nine in the morning. You gone buy all new kit. Put it out back there in the shed. I seen it. I don’t know how you got the money for that lot, but them special shoes gonna make you run like the wind. You be on that bus tomorrow,” said Amelia. “We all be good here, right, Mrs. Cait?”

  “Right, Amelia.”

  “Now you go to the market and get them things I tell you,” she said to her grandson. She looked at me. “Him make me promise I don’t be doing your stuff for you, but I can make sure you got what you need to be able to do it for yourself. And I can bake. It like a hobby for me, no work at all. I can’t be sitting about all day like a queen, doing nothing. Him agree, so this is what we do. Now off you go, Tarone. I give you that list and there be no good things left before long. Go!”

  Tarone kissed his grandmother’s cheek and left.

  Amelia
and I sat smiling at each other as we heard the Suburban’s engine roar into life.

  Amelia patted the space next to her on the small settee. I sat where she indicated.

  “Thank you for saving me,” she whispered. “I don’t know what happen in that lawyer’s office, but you save me, I know it.” She squeezed my hand.

  “You’re welcome, of course, but it seems you just fainted and bumped your head. It could have been worse. You were lucky.”

  “Ain’t no luck, it the will of the Lord,” said Amelia quietly, “and I know what him have in mind, too. I done something awful wicked, and him punish me. But my real punishment is that I must confess my sin, and I going to end up spending the rest of my life in prison.”

  Not what I was expecting. “What on earth do you mean?”

  “Covetousness is a sin,” said Amelia, her eyes downcast, her chin quivering. “I been laying in that bed in that hospital and I can see now I been a bad woman. I make plans, I think of just myself. I covet what was Mr. Freddie’s and I ain’t got no right to do it. It be in the Bible – I’s wrong to make plans for something that ain’t mine. And the Lord went and struck me down for it. He kept it from me, and he struck me down. I am a sinner, Mrs. Cait. I should be in prison.”

  My heart went out to the woman. I put my arm around her shoulders and held her as she sobbed. “There, there,” I said. Amelia produced a large handkerchief from the pocket in her apron. “It’s alright,” I added. “It’s perfectly natural to dream of what might be, one day. And if Freddie had told you he was going to leave the estate to you and Tarone, then I think it’s perfectly reasonable to give some thought to what you might do when that day comes. It’s not a sin, it’s just being human.”

  “But we gotta try to be more like God, and him Son. Human beings is bad. We’s sinful creatures. We must be like Jesus, not like animals. Mr. Freddie, him like an animal. Him want Tarone to do this and do that – him not want Tarone to be all him can be, but just to be him servant…like him slave. They say we ain’t slaves no more, but you show me the jobs for my Tarone that ain’t under a white man, somewhere, somehow. Them clever black ‘entrepreneurs’ works hard, but if a boy ain’t good at school, they don’t want him. Now Tarone? Him not good in the classroom, but him have a gift, a God-given gift, and him must use it. I don’t want him working no tough-life job. Or worse, them gangs get him. They at him all the time. All the time, everywhere. But Tarone, him a good boy. Him take care of his granny, and him look after Mr. Freddie.”