‘I may be busy at the medical centre, I’m afraid.’
‘Please come, it’s an island tradition to give people a good send-off.’
‘I’ll do my best, I promise.’
The man turns away before I can speak again, already dropping to the ground to perform more press-ups. I don’t know why enigmatic people always intrigue me. When I glance over my shoulder Pakefield is still following his brutal routine, but Lily appears totally focused on the task ahead.
I drive along the same path as last night, but the island feels benign today; the thick stands of trees never scare me when sunlight flickers through the branches, and parakeets are screeching overhead. Instinct makes me stop for a moment at Britannia Bay, wishing we could go for a paddle instead of a diving expedition. I love the feeling of sand between my toes, unlike Princess Margaret, who hated the scratching sensation with a passion. I always had to provide towels and warm water, so she could bathe her feet after a swim. There are just half a dozen people on the beach this morning, strolling by the shoreline, like the island was the safest place in the world.
Solomon and Phillip are waiting for us on the jetty at Old Plantation harbour. Solomon looks keen to get moving, but my old friend seems apprehensive. These days he prefers to remain on shore, but I’m relieved to share the responsibility of steering the Revival while Nile and Lily dive. Lily’s manner is changing already. She’s more confident now she’s the captain, her speech decisive.
‘Put on life jackets, please, Vee and Phil. If we capsize, no one’s coming to our rescue.’
The bay is calm at first, but the waves pick up as we hit open water. Phillip is holding on for dear life, but I’m still glad of his presence. Someone will need to guard the trail line once we reach L’Ansecoy Bay.
‘Do you have a wetsuit in my size?’ Nile asks Lily.
‘I’ve been diving all summer, with strapping young guys from the University of the West Indies, so take your pick.’ Her face breaks into a grin. ‘You’re legal to twenty metres depth, but stay clipped to the line. If you drown, my insurance will be screwed forever.’
I stand in the wheelhouse as the Revival sails north. The wind is a fraction stronger than last night, giving us an exhilarating ride. Tall waves rock the boat in every direction, making me glad of my strong sea legs. Nile appears comfortable too, after growing up on his father’s fishing boat.
The ride to Mustique’s northernmost point would be a pleasure on a calm day, but I’m still dogged by the sense that we’re making a mistake. I try to concentrate on the scenery instead. When we pass Endeavour Bay I catch sight of a few holidaymakers outside the water sports centre. Two windsurfers are making impressive speed, their red sails skimming across the waves, riding the gusty wind.
When Lily steers past Honor Bay, Point Lookout comes into view. The water grows rougher as we reach the island’s northern tip. It’s Mustique’s worst strait, often dealing out huge breakers in hurricane season, where the Caribbean and Atlantic collide, but today the conditions are manageable. On a good day L’Ansecoy Bay is a great place to picnic, providing excellent views of Bequia and St Vincent. It’s part of the island’s history too. A French cruise ship called the SS Antilles foundered on the reef here three decades ago. The crew and passengers were feted on shore, before being collected by the Queen Elizabeth, but the ship fared less well. The burning hulk was abandoned after several attempts at salvage. Its rusting skeleton forms part of the reef now, but there’s a prohibition against diving there, and I can see why. Breakers are rocking the Revival from side to side, making life uncomfortable, but their assault feels more playful than vicious. My nerves are rising when I stare at the dark water. Soon Lily will be hidden below its surface, prepared to face any danger to find her friend.
27
NILE HASN’T WORN an aqualung for ten years at least. He’ll need to rely on memory as well as good instructions to remain safe. Phillip Everard’s handsome features still look drawn when Nile zips up his borrowed wetsuit. The actor’s gait appears steadier when he helps to drop anchor, standing beside Vee when she takes the wheel.
Lily waits until she and Nile are fully kitted out, sitting on the boat rail, checking their oxygen cylinders’ pressure readings for a final time.
‘The currents are vicious down there, so stay clipped to the trail line. Don’t let the rip current catch you; several divers have died that way.’
‘It’s okay, I know the conditions.’
‘Suit yourself.’ She gives a narrow smile. ‘We’re breaking the law, Detective. The Maritime Agency have outlawed diving here without written permission.’
‘Never mind, I may get fired anyway.’
Her smile widens by another centimetre before she flips backwards into the sea. Nile’s head spins when he drops into the water. This underworld looks too beautiful to be dangerous, suffused with turquoise light, but invisible forces push him off course. He heads down in a vertical line, keeping track of Lily’s flippers, but even the fish are struggling; a school of grouper circle him until an eddy drags them north. He’d like to stop and wonder at this new universe where nothing is safe or predictable. His body feels cumbersome on land, but down here it’s like a fragment of driftwood, at the water’s mercy.
Lily is powering ahead, her swimming style effortless. Nile is painfully aware that he’s putting her in danger too, by agreeing to dive. The reef may offer no clues at all about Amanda Fortini’s fate, but the broken hulk of the Antilles is already in sight. Nile can see that it’s merged with the marine eco-system, outline softened by thick masses of barnacles, seaweed and frothy pink coral. Lily is poring over it already, looking for signs of the killer’s presence. When Nile swims beside her she holds up her finger and thumb, checking he’s okay. He returns the gesture, but all he can see is the broken hull of the SS Antilles that once promised luxury to wealthy French holidaymakers, until it sailed too close to Mustique’s shores, hoping to glimpse its famous residents.
Nile spots something glittering on the seabed, but when he follows the trail line deeper, it’s just pieces of burned glass, polished by currents after the Antilles foundered. He looks through an opening into the hulk, until a red snapper speeds past, almost knocking his mask from his face, startled by an unexpected guest. Nile is still peering through the opening when he sees a black shape tied to some rusting iron. Instinct makes him undo his clip from the safety line so he can look inside, but suddenly his body is spinning out of control. Currents are pulling him away, and Lily hasn’t seen he’s in trouble. Nile fights hard, but the water is stronger, yanking him away, then hurling him back against the wreck, moving at a tempo he can’t match. If he can’t grab something solid, the current will haul him into the sea’s depths. His heart only steadies again when he manages to catch hold of the ship’s anchor chain.
Lily appears at his side moments later. She shakes her head at his elementary mistake, before clipping his harness to the line again. Her face only brightens when he points at the wreck’s interior; his near miss is forgotten when they stare through the opening together. Lily taps her watch, but he’s not prepared to leave that mysterious black shape behind. He grabs hold of it through the opening, but it takes several hard yanks to pull it free. When the black object emerges at last, it’s a body bag, like the one Tommy Rothmore is zipped inside at the medical centre. Lily’s face tenses behind her mask.
They rise to the surface, with the bag drifting behind. The first thing Nile sees when he breaks the surface is Phillip Everard, reaching out to help him aboard. The actor looks stronger than before, but upset by their new piece of cargo.
‘Is it Amanda?’ he murmurs.
‘I need to look inside to find out.’
Nile waits until Lily is safe on board, sensing her tension as he tells his three helpers to step back. If there is a body inside, he can’t forecast its condition. His breath is coming too fast when he unzips the bag by a few inches, releasing a stream of water. He freezes in place when a loc
k of blond hair flows through the opening. That pale gold shade is instantly recognisable, but he peers inside the bag to make sure. Amanda Fortini no longer looks like a society girl; her skin is mottled, blue eyes milky. He’s about to zip the bag shut again when a piece of coral tumbles onto the deck, bearing crossed arrows. The killer must have thrown it in just to prove that he’s in control. Nile doesn’t care what the symbols mean; they’re no more than a taunt, the killer mocking him in a foreign language. His teeth are gritted when he zips the bag shut.
‘Let’s get back to shore,’ he calls out.
Phillip Everard has slumped onto a seat in the prow, with Lady Vee clutching his hand. When Nile joins Lily in the boathouse she’s too busy steering between the rolling waves to make conversation, but her distress is obvious. She has just found her closest friend’s body anchored to the coral she’s so keen to preserve. Tears roll down her face but she blinks them away. Nile wants to offer comfort, but the waves are so choppy, she needs to concentrate. The detective walks to the prow to phone DI Black. He’s forced to yell the news of Amanda Fortini’s death into his phone, the wind stealing his words before they connect.
28
PHILLIP LOOKS EXHAUSTED when the Revival moors again in Old Plantation harbour, so Lily offers to drive him home to recover. I hear Solomon thank them both for their help, but it’s Lily’s bravery that lingers in my mind when I survey the body bag, still lying on the deck of her converted trawler. Many people would crumble on realising that a friend had died in such horrible circumstances, but she steered us home through rough water without complaint, her previous suffering making her mature beyond her years. I shiver for the first time since we returned to Mustique; even though the wind is still warm, my clothes are soaked with sea spray.
‘Can you come to the hospital, Lady Vee?’ Solomon asks. ‘I’d like to compare notes with you afterwards.’
I’m glad to be included in his investigation, even though I dread seeing Amanda’s body. Mustique’s only ambulance is arriving already, with Simon Pakefield at the wheel. The medic seems as remotes as ever, but his mental state isn’t my biggest concern. Amanda Fortini may have been lying on the ocean floor ever since she went missing four days ago, and we need specific details to explain who put her there.
No one speaks as the ambulance heads back to the medical centre. The medic’s habitual silence bothers me as he steers the vehicle; I’ve realised that he rarely speaks unless he has facts to report. It’s clear he takes his job seriously, but a more confident doctor would offer emotional support.
Once the body is carried inside the medical centre, Nile explains what’s happened. The doctor appears shocked by the announcement, but maintains his professionalism, nodding at Solomon once he’s opened the bag.
‘Put on gloves and an overall, please. I need help lifting her onto the table.’
Solomon selects the largest white coat from a hook on the wall, then I catch sight of Amanda’s hand protruding from the bag, like she’s trying to claw her way out. Our new detective falters for a moment but soon gets his feelings under control.
‘Sit down if you feel faint, Detective.’
Nile shakes his head. ‘Let’s get it done, I’m fine.’
It only takes a moment for the two men to lift Amanda’s body onto the table, then I understand Solomon’s reaction. I can’t tell how much of the damage is due to violence. Time may have left the green bruises that cover much of her skin; her flesh looks swollen too, a scarlet bikini cutting into her thighs. The young woman’s face is no longer slender and fine-boned, there’s an ugly wound by her right temple, her features broken. Only her hair has retained its glamour, still tinted an expensive gold.
‘You bastard,’ I hiss under my breath.
‘My thoughts exactly,’ the doctor agrees. ‘Her body looks like a car crash victim’s; something piled into her right side at speed. I can tell she’s got a broken skull, fractured ribs and a broken pelvis just by looking at her. I imagine she died instantly.’
‘Could she have been hit by a speeding motorboat?’ Nile asks.
‘That would do it, yes.’
Anger floods through my system as we all gaze down at Amanda’s body. No matter what mistakes she made, she didn’t deserve such a violent death. The most obvious explanation is still that she was mown down by the speedboat Mama Toulaine saw in the harbour. I can’t imagine anyone on the island, including Keith Belmont, being unhinged enough to kill someone so violently, then drag her body down to the ocean floor.
‘Tell me about the body bag,’ Nile says.
The doctor looks up at him. ‘The medical centre’s crest is stamped on the back, but I can’t say when it was taken, I’m afraid.’
‘Why not?’
‘I’m a locum, remember? I’ve had no reason to check the hospital’s supply. No one’s died here recently, except the Rothmore boy.’
‘Who could have stolen one from the storeroom?’
The medic shakes his head. ‘I wish I could say, but we don’t have CCTV. This place is open all day, so patients can receive treatment.’
‘I’m sure we can get that information from another source,’ I say. ‘We need to keep our discovery secret, until her family are informed, don’t we? I think we should announce Amanda’s death to the islanders at the memorial service I’ve arranged for Tommy Rothmore this afternoon.’
‘That’s your decision, Lady Vee.’ The medic strips off his gloves and drops them in the sink. ‘This is very unfortunate. People are already shaken by Tommy’s death, without another young person being killed.’
Simon Pakefield gazes first at Solomon then at me, as if we are both potential murderers. The silence thickens as Nile helps him place the young woman’s broken corpse back in the bag, then wheel it next door. When Amanda is deposited in the refrigerator unit, only a thin layer of metal separates her from Tommy Rothmore, the two victims reunited in death, even though their relationship ended weeks ago.
I feel too numb to cry, and Solomon’s face is blank when we stare at the drawer that holds the girl’s body. The severed rope around Rothmore’s ankle makes more sense now; the killer may have tethered him to a different section of the reef, the ties worn thin by waves rubbing against spikes of dead coral. I glance at the room’s only window; it’s made of frosted glass, designed to protect the privacy of the dead, the midday sun muted to a dull blur.
29
NILE IS FASCINATED by Lady Vee’s reaction to seeing Amanda Fortini’s body. Her manner is brisk and resolute when they sit down together on a bench, a hundred metres from the medical centre, where they can’t be heard. He’s impressed that she can put personal feelings aside, to concentrate on justice for the victim.
‘It’s someone who can dive, with an appetite for danger,’ she says. ‘They could have left Amanda’s body in a far safer place, but chose the hardest bay to access.’
‘He picked somewhere with plenty of history; the wreck of the Antilles is still talked about now. My father remembers sailing out to check the passengers were safe.’ Nile shuts his eyes against the sun’s glare, trying to picture the killer diving down to the reef, dragging the body bag behind him. ‘I still think the Aqua Dream’s involved.’
‘Are you sure? We keep referring to a male killer, but it could be a woman, couldn’t it?’
‘She’d need to be very physically strong. Whoever’s doing this attacked two fit young people, then dragged them into a boat, to ferry the bodies out to the reef.’
‘I see what you mean, but it must be someone who knows the terrain intimately. Mustique is built from coral. They’ve chosen part of the island’s DNA to use as clues. I’ll try to find out exactly what the symbols mean today. I’m going to call on your father, Solomon, before Tommy’s memorial, but I’ll get to the church early to see Pastor Boakye.’
Nile watches her walk away, dressed in her pale clothes, the quintessential Englishwoman abroad. He could never have guessed that she would become his closest professi
onal ally on Mustique, but her wisdom and insight make her an ideal partner. She receives a warm welcome in any house on Mustique.
The detective’s frustration returns when he walks back inside the medical centre to see the part-time nurse. The young woman says that the storeroom is locked at all times, but Nile has his doubts. There will have been occasions when the desk is unattended, leaving any casual visitor free to steal a body bag and escape by one of the fire exits, without being seen.
He keeps his anger in check when he leaves the building at 2p.m. He knows he faltered in the examination room because the sight of Amanda Fortini’s body chimed too loudly with the woman he failed in Oxford. He stares out at the Aqua Dream, balanced on the horizon, rooted to the spot. DI Black has cautioned him to stay away, but sticking to protocol didn’t protect that victim, or Amanda Fortini. This time he must follow his instinct, before another life is lost. He walks back to the harbour at his fastest pace. It takes several attempts to start the police launch’s engine, and the waves are higher than before, long and undulating. They’re not yet tall enough to surf, but the storm is making its presence felt. This stretch of the Caribbean is reacting to the weather system that’s heading for the Windward Isles, which provides Nile with a perfect excuse.
There’s no sign of Dan Kellerman when he motors out to the Aqua Dream in the police launch, so he circles the yacht, taking photographs on his phone. He approaches close enough to hold the camera up to each porthole, photographing the interior. He takes images of the speedboat that’s stationed on deck too. There’s no sign that it’s caused human damage, but a swimmer could never escape its huge engine. He’s tempted to scale the ladder and go on board again, when the captain suddenly emerges, infuriated by the sight of Nile’s camera.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’
‘Good afternoon, Captain. Mind if I join you?’ Nile calls out, offering a beaming smile.
Murder On Mustique Page 14