BODY ON THE ISLAND a gripping murder mystery packed with twists (Smart Woman's Mystery Book 2)

by VICTORIA DOWD

  The dog ground down low and started snarling at his shadow.

  ‘The dog can see him?’ I trembled. ‘His ghost? Mr Bojingles can see him too?’

  Bridget picked up the dog. Mother moved quickly towards me. ‘OK. Time to get her out of here. That’s enough, Ursula. Come on. You need to rest.’

  ‘Bottlenose’s story on the ship.’ I glanced over to the passing outline of my dad on the other side of the window. He paused, then drifted away.

  ‘Make sense!’ Mirabelle snapped.

  Aunt Charlotte dragged me, and my feet slid across the stones with a strange, sharp sound. I tried to lift my foot. ‘Look underneath my boot.’ I was losing consciousness.

  ‘Stop, everybody!’ Bridget said firmly. ‘Stop dragging her and shouting at her. Let her speak before she faints again. We need to hear this.’

  Somehow, Bridget’s sudden faith in me stalled everything.

  I hung precariously from Aunt Charlotte’s hands wedged tightly under my arms. I pivoted my foot to the side. Mother bent down towards it.

  ‘Jess said . . .’ I began, but the words wouldn’t form.

  ‘Yes, where is Jess?’ Mirabelle looked around as if there was anywhere to hide in this tiny space.

  Mother held something small in her fingers and stood up slowly.

  ‘What is it, Pandora? What’s wrong with her now?’ Mirabelle leaned closer, frowning.

  ‘Jess said . . .’ I whispered.

  Aunt Charlotte looked into my face. ‘Said what?’

  ‘Jess said the knife fell from his pocket.’ I dropped to the floor, just managing to keep my eyes open.

  ‘I’m surprised at you, Spear—’ Kemp raised his eyebrows — ‘I always keep my knife safely secured in my Beaver belt.’

  ‘Oh, so you have a knife too!’ Mother frowned. ‘This is all making a lot more sense now.’

  ‘No.’ My voice cracked. ‘It didn’t fall from his pocket.’

  Mother closed her eyes. ‘You just said it did.’

  ‘No, the boots . . .’

  ‘We need to get her out of here.’ Mother sounded so stern.

  ‘Warm, Angel said the boots were warm. They shouldn’t have been. They were the boots he wore after Jess made him come and change them. It wasn’t Spear’s pocket. When Jess said it fell from “his pocket”, she meant the boy’s pocket. It was the boy’s boots that were warm.’

  Mother was slowly holding out her hand. ‘A coin,’ she whispered.

  ‘That coin was on the boy’s eye. His eyes were open when we left him here. But they were shut when Bottlenose put the coin back on later.’ I looked at Mother. ‘He’s coffin boy.’ My head began to fall into my chest. ‘He’s Bottlenose’s wicked coffin boy who should never have been on the ship.’

  Slowly, everyone turned to look towards the outline lying on the other side of the chapel. A dark, unmoving mass of clothes.

  Mr Bojingles struggled free from Bridget’s arms and bounced towards the bundle. He bit into a sleeve and dragged it, shaking his head. The body made no attempt to resist. The dead arm didn’t flinch. The coat unravelled and pulled away to reveal that it was no more than an empty pile of clothes. The boy had gone.

  We stood, frozen in silence, looking at the space where the body should have been.

  ‘Nate,’ Spear said.

  CHAPTER 30: DEAD MEN DON’T WEAR SHOES

  ‘What the hell is going on?’ Spear’s voice was angry confusion. He held up the empty clothes tentatively as if they were evidence. It was looking increasingly like they were evidence. ‘Where’s the body?’

  ‘We need to find him.’ I sounded hoarse. ‘He has to be out there. He’s still alive. His boots were warm. The coin keeps falling from his face when he stands up. When Angel came out with the boy’s boots on, he said they were warm. If he was dead, they wouldn’t have been, especially when he’d been in the sea so long.’

  ‘She’s right,’ Bridget said. ‘I knew it all along.’

  ‘Angel’s room is empty,’ I continued. ‘He would have had Nate’s boots in his room. I think the boy took his boots back when he came in the house, when he murdered Bottlenose. He came into the house in Ryan’s Vibram-soled boots and took the knife from Jess.’

  ‘Wait, how did he know she had my knife?’ Spear said.

  I was getting into my stride now. ‘He would have heard the argument about the boots. He was right here in the chapel — alive. She pulled the knife and threatened Angel. He would have heard everything. He comes into the house through one of the many windows he keeps opening. Takes the knife. Kills Bottlenose, and on his way out, took his own boots back. He runs back to the chapel and flings in the Vibram boots, knowing full well we’ll be taking Bottlenose’s body in there soon and that will alleviate suspicion. He fixes up a bundle of clothes that in the darkness might fool us.’

  ‘But where is he now?’ Mother said slowly.

  ‘The bothy.’

  No one spoke.

  ‘That’s who’s been coming and going making noises at the house. It’s not a ghost.’ I paused for a moment, aware of what I’d just said. ‘Listen to me, they’re not witch lights. It’s him up at the bothy. I’m sure of it. It wouldn’t just have been Bottlenose and Spear who heard the conversation between Nell and Angel on the boat about the poisonous bracelet. Nate was crouched on the floor below them. He would have heard too. It’s him! He’s our killer. He’s the coffin boy who got on the ship at the last minute.’

  ‘OK. Take it slowly, Ursula,’ Mother said.

  I nodded. ‘Not only was he in a perfect place on the boat to hear their conversation, he was in the perfect spot inside the chapel to hear Jess had the knife. But also the boy would have been able to hear that Angel realized the boots were warm. Angel could quite easily start thinking about that in a calmer moment when no one was waving a knife at him. He could easily start to get suspicious. So Angel had to die. All the way through, that boy has been in that perfect spot, right next to us, hearing everything. He’s been stalking us, hiding, letting us lay out everything we knew, piece by piece. Basically, we’ve been telling him who he needed to kill next.’

  ‘Ursula, isn’t this just a bit . . .’

  ‘No, Aunt Charlotte. Think about it! If he’s just destroyed the boat he was out near there, he would have heard us saying Bottlenose had the passenger list — the list that would have shown he shouldn’t even have been here. And remember, it was Bottlenose who placed the coin back on the boy’s face — his eyes now closed and his skin still warm. Even though he was a sad old drunk, he’d have worked it out sooner or later. So Bottlenose had to die too.’

  ‘Wait! What are you all talking about? This is ridiculous.’ Mother frowned. ‘The boy was dead. He can’t have suddenly risen up. I refuse to believe that this is ghosts or spirits, faeries, witches or any other form of the undead. The killer must be a living human being who has killed three people and then stolen the boy’s body.’

  Aunt Charlotte bent over me and began trying to lift me. It was starting to become quite disturbing given what I’d seen her do with Ryan’s body. I looked into her anxious face. ‘Aunt Charlotte . . .’

  ‘Yes, dear.’

  ‘You checked if he was dead, the boy, didn’t you? You said he was dead. You were the only one who checked to see if he was dead.’

  She paused and looked around the silent group. Then she looked towards Mother.

  ‘Really?’ Mother looked stunned, then her face fell. She closed her eyes.

  ‘I just . . .’

  Everyone looked at Aunt Charlotte in expectation.

  Mirabelle began to laugh viciously. ‘Oh, hang on, you genuinely can’t take a pulse. That’s not just a joke. He was alive, you bloody idiot.’

  ‘No.’ Aunt Charlotte looked panicked. ‘That’s not possible. He was stone cold, and I did feel his wrist and there was nothing. The coin has dropped off every time we’ve come in here and knocked it. The knife could have fallen from a dead man’s pocket. The boots woul
d have been warmer to Angel than wearing nothing. Seriously? Come on.’

  I pictured the slim-framed body rolling in the waves. Alongside him, twisting in the waves like a water snake was . . . ‘His belt,’ I said quietly.

  ‘An old trick,’ Bridget confirmed. ‘He didn’t know Charlotte would be such an incredibly inept idiot—’

  ‘Hey!’

  ‘Now is no time for feelings, Charlotte. We need the truth.’ Bridget looked at her firmly. ‘Say if he’d already tied the belt around his wrist tight enough to sedate the flow. He was freezing cold from being in the water. He knew if he slipped off the belt and played dead there was a chance we might not think he was alive. A chance he could get away with it.’

  ‘Away with it?’ Mother stared at her. ‘You’re speaking in code. Is anyone actually going to explain?’

  ‘Get away with the murder he’d already committed, of course,’ Bridget said stony-faced.

  We all seemed to instinctively pull our heads back as one.

  ‘Oh dear, Mr Bojingles, yet again the Smart Women is an utter misnomer.’

  ‘Miss who?’

  ‘Charlotte,’ Mother said sharply, ‘you’ve done enough. Be quiet.’

  ‘Ursula saw someone pushed under in the water,’ Bridget continued. ‘Someone with green eyes, who really could only have been Nell.’

  I glanced quickly over at Spear. His hands squeezed tight into a ball. He was staring ahead of him.

  Bridget continued. ‘It couldn’t be Kemp who pushed her down as he wasn’t on the boat. It had to have been one of us. It could have been Ryan before he died in the water, but then who killed Angel and Bottlenose?’

  Aunt Charlotte shrugged.

  ‘From what Ursula described, it was a man’s hands that pushed the woman under. It could possibly have been Angel, but then who killed him? That just left Spear and one other — the boy, Nate. We eliminated the boy from the very beginning because we thought he was dead but we never considered the idea that we’d been mistaken. He may have been half-drowned, but half-drowned is still half-alive.’

  We all looked open-mouthed at the dishevelled collection of clothes, dragged out by the dog across the stone. Mother held out her hand with the tarnished coin in it and I remembered how I’d found it on the floor before, when we’d delivered Angel’s body to the chapel.

  ‘It was me who made Bottlenose put the coin back on the boy’s face.’

  ‘Oh, very possibly you might then have signed Bottlenose’s death warrant.’

  ‘Thanks, Bridget. I feel a whole lot better now.’ I looked again at the pile of clothes.

  Bridget continued. ‘Perhaps that’s why Bottlenose told the story on the boat. Remember, Nate was crouched below him and as he told the tale of the coffin boy, Bottlenose looked down at the boy. He was telling him, telling Nate — he knew he shouldn’t have been on board the ship.’ Bridget stroked the dog methodically as if ordering her thoughts. ‘He kills Bottlenose, with the knife, the one he’d slipped from Spear on the boat.’

  ‘One thing—’ Aunt Charlotte leaned in — ‘Why did the lad steal Spear’s knife in the first place? He couldn’t have known he’d need it for Bottlenose later, that it would be Bottlenose who’d put the coin back on his face.’

  I thought for a moment. ‘He was planning on killing someone else.’

  ‘Correct!’ Bridget was becoming insufferable. ‘I think the knife was for someone else who isn’t even dead yet.’

  Bridget was enjoying this. ‘Bottlenose and Angel were accidentals who needed to be silenced before they let anything slip. Before they spoiled his chances of killing whoever it was he really wanted to stab. He was hunting someone.’

  We all fell silent, listening to the tortured wind circling the walls of the chapel. The sea fell with a great noise across the sands as if an audience had suddenly broken into applause, the strange fluting sound still travelled in the lull of the sea over the dunes. And then the whistling began to drift behind it, that soulful sea-song I’d heard before.

  ‘The whistling,’ I said. ‘It’s back.’

  Mother twitched. ‘Wh—’

  ‘Quiet, Mother!’

  She looked stunned.

  The dog began its low guttural noise again.

  I held out my arms and spread my fingers wide as if to stop them all speaking. The whistling wove in and out of the sound of the foam drawing back across the beach. It was moving further away. But the air was so full of noise that I couldn’t unpick each sound very easily.

  ‘We need to go outside.’

  ‘With the murderer. Of course we do.’ Mirabelle turned away.

  ‘Oh, Ursula, why must you always seek out danger, dear?’ Aunt Charlotte was shaking her head slowly.

  ‘Because, dear Aunt, we have left a woman out there with a killer.’

  Their eyes widened.

  ‘Oh shit!’ Spear whispered. ‘Jess.’

  Bridget let out a great sigh. ‘Well, it would appear that you have left another of your travelling companions to die, Mr Spear.’ She shook her head at the dog who gave Spear a very disappointed look.

  ‘Unless, of course, Jess is involved in some way.’ Bridget looked as though she was speaking to the dog.

  We watched one another. We had to go out there but we had no idea what was waiting for us. Was the boy really alive? Was Jess working with him or was she the killer? Were they both standing out there waiting, knowing what we’d said, knowing what they now had to do?

  We slowly edged towards the door, eyeing one another. I looked out at the beating rain. I couldn’t see anyone out there. The sky was the colour of wet flint now and sheets of rain came blowing down over the hills. A sudden crack of white light split the dark clouds, momentarily lighting up the surface of the sea. We looked at one another as if needing confirmation that we should go out there.

  A bird screamed above us and wheeled out on the wind. The thick green waves reached up as if to grab its thin legs. The bird’s cry was enough to shake us from our doubts. We stepped outside.

  The rain fell like small pebbles, dappling the scrub and sand around us. Mother and Aunt Charlotte turned their faces from the full force of it, closing their eyes and hunching their shoulders as soon as they stepped out. Bridget picked up the dog and buried it into her coat, her eyes round with fear. I turned to look out at the hills and my hair snaked round my face, instantly covering my eyes. I wiped it back, my face already running with rainwater. I held my arm up uselessly over my head and scanned the fields above us.

  There was so much noise. The wind rushed over the grass, rippling waves through it as it ran down over the beach. The sea churned in great thick lines as though it was being ploughed by the wind. Sea and sky seemed to be merging, sealing us in to this dark world. The weather changed so fast here, it was as if it was an entirely different land from one moment to the next. My eyes squinted against the salty air. I knew already what I was looking for. I watched the open fields, waiting for them to appear. And there they were, floating against the dark sky as if they were stars on the sea. Just as they had been from the very start. The witch lights.

  CHAPTER 31: A BLASTED HEATH

  I pointed over towards the distant lights. ‘That’s where we need to be. I’m sure of it.’

  We peered out through the dark air flecked with silvery lines of rain. Kemp clicked on his torch and highlighted the rain as if a thousand insects had suddenly swum into the white circle of light. We looked out in the direction of the bothy. Spear nodded. ‘She’s right. Someone’s out there.’

  The simple use of the word ‘someone’ created a nervous tension. No matter what our theories, no matter that the body was clearly missing and so was Jess, we had no real idea what we were heading towards. No one suggested splitting up. Not this time. There was too much fear among us.

  Black clouds swam low across the hills, opening only for a moment. The marble moon cut through the gap and some weak light slipped over the waters. The waves rose high, rioting noisi
ly against the shore.

  We headed out, slowly at first, through the thick grass. I could feel the incline in the ground as the backs of my calves pulled tight. My legs were stippled with cold, weary with exhaustion already.

  Every step grew more difficult as if the weather was beating us back towards the sea, away from the hills. Away from the witch lights that dotted the hillside.

  ‘Are you sure Jess came out of the house with us?’ Aunt Charlotte was panting and wiping the rain from her face with her sleeve.

  ‘Of course, Charlotte.’

  ‘How can you be so sure, Pandora? What if she’s back at the house safe and sound? We’re out here dying.’

  ‘Don’t worry, it takes longer than that to die from exposure,’ Kemp attempted to reassure her.

  ‘Young man, I shall not be exposing myself under any circumstances. No matter how dire the situation.’ Aunt Charlotte struck out in front as if she’d found some new motivation.

  The rain fell in fast lines, irregular, short white streaks in the air, intermittently broken like lines of Morse code. The wind drove it at strange angles to the land, dousing my face from every direction, rolling down my cheeks in cold beads that slipped under my collar.

  I looked over at Mother’s flushed face, raw with the cold. Determination ran through every feature. She glanced at me then frowned. Was she worried? She looked ahead and my eyes followed hers. She was looking at Spear, distrustfully. Surely we’d moved away from being suspicious of him.

  ‘Mother,’ I said in a low voice. ‘You OK there?’

  ‘No, clearly not.’ She didn’t look at me but continued to stare at Spear’s back.

  ‘You know that he can’t see you giving him The Look, don’t you?’

  She switched The Look to me.

  ‘He’s trouble.’

  I took a deep breath. ‘Aren’t they always, Mother?’

  ‘Yes. Always.’ She looked away.

  The cold air was sharp in my throat. The wind savage. ‘I don’t even pretend to understand anymore. There’s a boy out here with us somewhere who faked his death, who is very likely a killer. But you’re worried about the one guy who might be able to lead us out of this just because you think . . .’