Murder On Mustique

by Glenconner Anne

  ‘Jose’s always been restless and he prefers to be outside; he goes walking by the sea at midnight. It’s hard to make him sleep indoors.’

  ‘Can you think why he’s suddenly following people?’

  ‘My son worships Lady Vee, Lily and Mister Phillip. I think he worries bad things will happen to them. They’re the only people on Mustique who’ve given him a chance, so he wants to keep them safe.’

  ‘He believes they’re in danger?’

  ‘That’s the only reason I can imagine. He owes his life to them.’

  ‘I don’t think so, Luella, that honour’s yours. He’s lucky you’ve cared for him so well.’ Nile’s statement prompts another flurry of tears. ‘If I see him, I’ll send him straight home.’

  Luella’s hand settles on Nile’s wrist. ‘Jose would never cause damage, Solomon. Some people in Lovell fear him because he’s mute, but Mama Toulaine says he’s a good spirit, on the side of the gods. You believe that, don’t you? Please tell me you understand.’

  Nile touches her shoulder instead of replying. Luella is one of a small troop of helpers who came to his father’s aid after he was widowed. He carries a blurred memory of her singing him to sleep, feeding him meals, and letting him play with her oldest sons on the beach. Mrs Gomez’s eyes are still glistening when he leaves. Nile doesn’t want to believe that Jose is involved, but his odd behaviour still can’t be explained.

  38

  I LEAVE PHILLIP packing his bags after finishing my drink. My friend still seems thrilled by my invitation, like a child preparing for a sleepover. I often forget how insidious loneliness can be. Jasper keeps me fully entertained, blowing through my life like the whirlwind that’s threatening Mustique, causing peril for every ship in the mid-Atlantic. There’s a thin line between solitude and despair.

  I have just enough time to prepare myself, before picking Lily up from the hospital. My mother taught me how to enjoy parties when I was a child, and I’ve used her method ever since. Choose good jewellery, apply your make-up with care, but above all, smile. Social events should always be approached in good faith. My smile is twitchy when I apply a layer of fuchsia-pink lipstick tonight, but it’s still my best asset. I inspect my appearance closely in the mirror: I’m wearing a lemon-yellow dress from Harvey Nichols, strappy sandals, and a liberal dose of Chanel No. 5. If the killer arrives at the wake tonight, I’m battle ready, behind my shield of make-up. The powers of observation I’ve honed over the years should help me identify any strange behaviour. I dab a last touch of bronzer onto my cheeks then leave Eden House locked and shuttered, before setting off in my buggy, carrying Lily’s favourite red dress and a pair of sandals.

  My nerves are on high alert when I head for the medical centre, even though it’s early evening. If Sacha Milburn can be attacked in broad daylight, every one of us is vulnerable. When I pass the stables the beautiful Arab mares in the paddock canter away suddenly. The increasing wind is making them skittish, one rearing high into the air before galloping away. The hospital smells of medicine and panic, but there’s no escaping it today. I want to know exactly what happened to Sacha Milburn.

  Lily is sitting on a bench outside Sacha’s room, her bare feet resting on the lino. I can tell how upset she is from the way she jumps up immediately to hug me. The girl has been at her friend’s bedside for hours, and I suspect she’d happily spend the night there if I don’t drag her away. She looks vibrantly alive, despite the day’s ordeals, her skin golden from the tropical summer.

  ‘I thought Sacha had drowned, Vee. She wasn’t even breathing.’

  ‘You and Solomon rescued her. That’s the important thing.’

  Lily’s eyes are glossy with tears. ‘She seemed fine in the ambulance, talking clearly, but now she’s lost consciousness.’

  The nurse arrives before I can ask another question. Her expression is full of sympathy when she reports that Sacha remains unconscious, and concussion is unpredictable. A patient can seem fine straight after a head injury, then lapse into a coma due to swelling on the brain. The woman’s kind gaze assesses us in turn, before she explains that Sacha should be airlifted to St Vincent for a CT scan, but that can’t happen until the storm’s passed.

  ‘The doctor’s done tests to check her reflexes, and she’s still responsive. Her body may just be taking the rest it needs to recover. It’s likely she’ll regain consciousness, but he can’t say when. You’re welcome to go in and see her.’

  My heart sinks when I catch sight of Sacha in her hospital bed, long auburn hair splayed across the pillow, the sheets pulled tight across her body. The room is a small white box. Instinct makes me yank the window open, so air can circulate, and let her hear the birdsong outside.

  Lily is holding her friend’s hand, reminding me of her incredible kindness. ‘It’s weird, Vee. She slipped into a coma straight after Dr Pakefield examined her. I took a break for a few minutes; he was in the room with her alone.’

  ‘The timing’s a coincidence. The symptoms of a head injury can be delayed for hours.’

  Lily looks unconvinced, and my own thoughts are whirling as I remember Mama Toulaine’s warning about the medic. My hopes lift when Sacha’s green eyes suddenly fly open, her gaze fixed on something only she can see, before dropping shut again. Her rest no longer looks peaceful, hands twitching with St Vitus’ dance.

  ‘Why not get changed, darling? I’ll speak to the doctor,’ I tell Lily.

  There’s no sign of Simon Pakefield in the reception area. It’s only when I walk further down the corridor that I see the door of his consulting room stands ajar. The doctor is visible through the narrow gap. He’s at his desk, head in hands, fingers pressed against his temples. He remains in the same position until I tap on the door, forcing him to scramble to his feet.

  ‘Sorry to disturb you, Simon. Could I have a quick word?’

  ‘I’m afraid we can only wait, if you’re here about Sacha,’ he mutters. ‘My ability to help is limited; she should be on a neurology ward, which is frustrating.’

  ‘You look tired. Are you okay?’

  ‘No doctor enjoys seeing patients suffer.’

  When I glance down at his desk my gaze catches on something I’ve missed until now. Another piece of coral, with a spider’s web carved into its surface. When I pick it up, emotions flood the doctor’s face for the first time, anxiety mixed with guilt.

  ‘Where did you find this?’ I ask.

  His neutral expression slips back into place. ‘Outside Sacha’s room, soon after she arrived.’

  ‘Can I take it with me? Solomon Nile will want to see it.’

  ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘There’s one more thing. You were seen taking a speedboat out to the Aqua Dream late on Monday night. Can you explain why?’

  His eyes blink rapidly. ‘That’s not true. I’m required to stay here, twenty-four hours a day, unless I give the trustees notice.’

  ‘I place a great deal of trust in the person who told me.’

  ‘They’re mistaken.’ He picks up a clipboard, attempting to end our conversation. ‘Excuse me, but I need to get back to work.’

  I can see how badly he wants me off his territory, but my attitude towards him is shifting. ‘I’m concerned about Sacha; the killer’s leaving pieces of coral as his calling card, so he may plan to hurt her again. Lily and I must attend the memorial party tonight, but I’ll send for a guard, before we leave.’

  ‘She’ll be perfectly safe here.’

  ‘Let’s not take chances. I don’t want another young person’s life slipping from our hands.’

  The truth is, the killer may be someone I have trusted until now. Dr Pakefield could have used Dr Bunbury’s boat to harvest samples of coral, including the one on his desk. But if he’s guilty, his violence appears to give him no pleasure. I can see misery in the rigid set of his shoulders when I finally leave his consulting room.

  Lily looks striking when she appears in the corridor, in a crimson dress that fits her slim form p
erfectly. She hasn’t bothered with make-up, but her skin seems to glow from the inside. I hate to darken her mood, because she’s been through so much lately, but there’s no other choice.

  ‘You look stunning, darling, but can you call Solomon? I want one of the Layton brothers here immediately. The killer’s left another piece of coral.’

  The tension on Lily’s face makes an odd contrast with her vivid dress. I feel certain the killer would be overjoyed to see her happiness slipping away.

  39

  THE BEACH PARTY has begun when Nile receives the call from Lily. Staff from Basil’s Bar have already got a bonfire blazing on the sand. Britannia beach looks like it did when he was a boy, its long crescent tinted pink by the powdered coral that forms the island’s fabric, but his old sense of safety has vanished, and it would be a mistake to let nostalgia overtake him tonight. It doesn’t take long to spot Charlie Layton among a crowd of men from Lovell, enjoying the free beer. When Nile orders him to guard Sacha Milburn at the hospital, he sets off at a heavy jog. The main virtue of the island’s smallness is that everything lies within reach. Layton will be at the medical centre in ten minutes, if he keeps up a decent pace.

  Nile looks back at the growing crowd. Lady Vee seems to believe that Pakefield is involved, but the killer could be standing metres away, because all murderers are egotists. They believe their own lives matter most, and right now the killer will be overjoyed. He’s taken two lives and placed another in jeopardy, leaving three families devastated, but no one would guess that violence hangs over the island. The only sign that the party is actually a wake are two large photos of Tommy and Amanda above a makeshift bar, smiling like they don’t have a care in the world. Waiters are circulating with wine glasses balanced on trays, the liquor already flowing. Some of his father’s old friends are relaxing in deckchairs, enjoying the atmosphere. The party has drawn some of the island’s biggest personalities. Keith Belmont is talking with Dexter Adebayo, the two men’s faces serious among the other revellers as they stare at the fire. Speakers have been raised above the sand, blaring out an eclectic range of music, from calypso to Motown and reggae.

  The party has tempted the few remaining villa owners down from their villas. There’s an actress, a theatre impresario from New York and a British politician. Everyone is starting to unwind, couples dancing together, the volume of laughter rising. There’s a round of applause when a Blue Heaven number blares across the beach, with Keith Belmont’s rasping voice telling the crowd to dance like the devil, because tomorrow may never come. Nile could watch the island’s bone-deep hedonism at play for hours, but that would be a missed opportunity. Lyron’s face appears on the far side of the crowd, talking to another staff member from Basil’s. His brother looks lighter since their conversation, more like the cheerful schoolboy he remembers. Nile is glad his brother’s present tonight, so he can keep him safe.

  It’s 10.30p.m. and the stars keep slipping behind skeins of cloud, their soft light turning the sea to mercury. When he turns round Jose Gomez is watching him from the dunes, scrambling away once their eyes meet, like he did at the memorial. The young man’s shyness is well known, but Nile still believes that facade might be concealing something more sinister. He takes a few paces in his direction, but the gardener has already disappeared. Gomez appears to be keeping tabs on the party guests from a distance. There’s nothing else on the beach, except a line of sea grape bushes, sculpted by the wind.

  When Nile checks his phone a text has arrived from Charlie Layton. Sacha Milburn’s condition is serious but stable. Lady Vee has told him to stay at her bedside, until he’s relieved from duty. Nile understands that only the girl can save herself now; she’ll have to fight hard to regain consciousness. He scans the crowd again, where over a hundred people are watching the flames leap higher, faces lit by their orange glow. Keith Belmont is surrounded by French tourists from Firefly, flirting with the youngest girl in the group, just like old times. Dexter Adebayo is standing closest to the fire. The man still looks far edgier than the laidback character who taught Nile to dive, staring at the flames while the guests enjoy themselves.

  Wesley Gilbert must have been telling the truth about Mama Toulaine, because the couple are side by side, so relaxed in each other’s company they don’t need to talk. Nile is still on his own when Lily Calder approaches. The young woman is clutching a pair of high heels in one hand, the other holding a cocktail glass. She looks like a typical socialite, gorgeous in a short red dress, but up close she’s not so easily categorised. There’s too much concern on her face for a bona fide party girl.

  ‘You look thoughtful, Solomon.’

  ‘I’ve been watching so hard, I’m starting to miss things.’

  ‘Have you seen the girl Keith’s chatting up? She doesn’t look legal.’

  ‘I checked her ID. She’s just turned sixteen; I hope she’s drinking lemonade.’

  The music rises in volume, Bob Marley and the Wailers’ ‘Three Little Birds’ suddenly so loud Nile can’t hear himself think. He points towards the waterline and Lily falls into step. The day’s adrenalin is still racing around his system; if he was back in Oxford he’d don his running shoes and pound the streets, but right now he’d like to slip into the water and go for a long swim. Lily Calder appears to feel the same. They walk further down the shoreline, until the party’s music becomes a low metallic pulse, the half-moon’s bright outline dominating the sky.

  ‘Did you find anything about Sacha’s attacker?’ Lily asks.

  ‘She could have been followed from the memorial, or someone lay in wait at her villa. I need to dig deeper into people’s histories tomorrow, including people we haven’t considered. It’s a sophisticated campaign for a novice.’

  Lily sits on the trunk of a fallen palm tree, waiting for Nile to join her. ‘Who’s crazy enough to attack my friends, and leave such hateful messages?’

  ‘We’ll find out, don’t worry. But you need to stay safe.’

  ‘I won’t work on Mum’s boat alone until this is over.’

  ‘I didn’t know the Revival belonged to your mother.’ Nile avoids looking at her directly. It’s been months since a woman attracted him so much, but it’s the wrong time to let it overtake him. She seems lost in her own world, head tipped back to admire the night sky. ‘How old were you, when she died?’

  ‘Five, how about you?’

  ‘I’d just turned seven. I can hardly picture her now, and maybe that’s a blessing. My father remembers her too well. He never remarried.’

  Lily’s gaze is calmer than the waves as they gain strength. ‘Do you ever blame yourself?’

  ‘Nothing I did could have stopped it.’

  ‘I’ll never know if caring for me was the final straw after Dad left. She could have followed her career without a kid to look after.’ Lily gives a hollow laugh. ‘Sorry, I’m getting mawkish. It’s a combination of booze and seeing another friend get hurt. I’d better go back.’

  Nile rises to his feet at the same time, but Lily loses her footing. When she stumbles against him he puts a hand round her waist to steady her. She rises onto to her toes to kiss his cheek as an old calypso number plays, the guitar music distorting on the breeze. Nile’s about to kiss her back when she flits away, back towards the light.

  40

  THE CARIBBEAN COAST is the best place to admire the night sky, and the party has reached its peak as midnight approaches. The breeze blowing off the sea is intensifying, even though the storm is still a hundred miles north, but none of the guests seem to care. They’re still dancing and drinking with gay abandon. The half-moon reminds me of a painting by Atkinson Grimshaw, edged by clouds that soften its silver outline. I can see Phillip in the distance, dressed in a white linen shirt and pale grey trousers. He’s chatting to one of the staff from the Cotton House, and looks more relaxed since our chat. The staff from Basil’s have managed the evening perfectly, which isn’t surprising. Impromptu parties on Mustique happen so often, they can produce fo
od, drink and a sound system in less than an hour. But the gathering has failed to answer my questions. I’ve spent the last few hours scanning the crowd for signs of guilty behaviour, with Lily and Solomon doing the same. Maybe the simple reason we can’t spot the killer is because we’ve already found him. Dr Pakefield is still at the hospital, with Charlie Layton standing guard, and Keith Belmont disappeared an hour ago, with a young girl from Firefly. I can’t imagine why she let a man old enough to be her grandfather take her home, but fame can be seductive when you’re young. I can’t escape my belief that he’s involved in some way. Keith favoured me with a smug smile as he led the girl away, his arm snaking round her shoulder.

  Time slips backwards when the bonfire blazes higher, the wind sending showers of orange sparks up into the sky. I wish Jasper was here; his maverick personality comes to the fore at any gathering, ensuring that everyone has fun. Some of the world’s biggest celebrities have lost their inhibitions on this beach: all undone by Mustique’s freedom. I’ve seen plenty of famous characters from stage and screen disappear into the dunes for illicit rendez-vous, never mentioned beyond Mustique’s shores. But when my eyes blink open, ghosts linger at the edges of my vision. The only light source now is the starlight glinting overhead as the clouds race inland. Tommy and Amanda’s deaths stay at the front of my mind. I must keep my wits about me, to find out why they died.

  I’ve attended so many parties in my lifetime, I know the exact moment when the crowd’s energy cools. Some party stalwarts have already left, including Dex Adebayo. It’s 1a.m. and the dancing is slowing, even though Van Morrison’s voice is still calling from the speakers, telling us that it’s a marvellous night for a moon dance. Everyone turns to face me when I climb onto a beer crate that’s lying on the sand, to give the final eulogy.