Murder On Mustique

by Glenconner Anne

  ‘Thank you all for being with us, to remember two special young people. Tommy was still in his twenties, but he had an old soul; kind, serious and loving. Amanda loved to party, but she was bright too, and always loyal, especially to my beloved Lily. Let’s never forget them. Please raise a glass with me now, to salute them both, and don’t hurry away just yet, will you? There’s still plenty of champagne.’

  The crowd cheer and clap their hands, Lily beaming up at me, even though the party has failed to deliver answers. I’ve only seen the usual collection of friends and acquaintances, partying hard to forget the threat we’re under. The holidaymakers from Firefly and the Cotton House have danced and knocked back huge quantities of alcohol. I’m still warm in my thin dress, but ready to go home. Wesley’s reaction to my request for help fills me with gratitude. When I asked for his protection, he almost saluted me, before rushing home for an overnight bag. I’ve never felt luckier to have him as my butler, his loyalty unfailing.

  Lily is chatting, but I saw her disappear into the dark with Solomon Nile a while back. I hope they’ve been enjoying each other’s company, as well as discussing the investigation. She needs fun after her vigil at Sacha Milburn’s bedside, but Solomon looks completely focused. I’m certain that he’s stayed sober like me, keeping his wits together. My glass contains clear apple juice mixed with sparkling water, which looks exactly like champagne; I don’t want to seem like a killjoy, but it’s the wrong time to lower my defences.

  Phillip appears out of the crowd suddenly. He takes my drink and deposits it on a table, his hand settling on my wrist. ‘Dance with me, Vee. I asked them to play your favourite song. I’ve waited all night for this.’

  The music changes to Bryan Ferry singing ‘Smoke Gets in your Eyes’. Another cheer goes up because Ferry is a much-loved regular visitor to Mustique, then the chatter fades and Phillip is dancing me round the fire in a slow waltz, everyone standing back to watch. I allow myself to imagine being married to Phillip, instead of Jasper, just for a second, before blocking out the thought.

  ‘Getting everyone home safely will be tricky,’ Phillip murmurs. ‘I’ve told them to walk in groups.’

  ‘Have you seen anything strange?’

  ‘Dex seemed pretty wired, and Keith Belmont’s lured a schoolgirl back to his lair.’

  ‘I hope she’s safe.’

  ‘Solomon’s going to pay him a call. Let’s send people home, then we can have a nightcap on your terrace.’

  ‘Perfect.’ He gives my shoulders a squeeze before vanishing into the crowd. I’ll call an end to proceedings soon, but my throat’s dry from too much talk, so I collect my drink from the table and finish it in a couple of sips.

  I spend fifteen minutes chatting with departing guests, then an odd feeling overtakes me when I look at the fire. Flames are burning out of control, people’s clothes pulsing so brightly I have to shut my eyes. When I open them again, everything’s spinning, my thoughts racing much too fast. I look for Phillip or Lily to help me, but they’re too far away. A sudden wave of nausea rises in my throat and instinct makes me escape from the crowd. I rush through the sea grape bushes, before falling on my hands and knees. My head is still whirling, but I’m trying to return to the crowd to get help when something rustles among the leaves. Someone grabs hold of me from behind, gripping my arms so tightly, each fingertip will leave a bruise. Then there’s a sudden pain in my back, so raw it leaves me speechless. I can’t even call for help, the moon vanishing between trees as my vision fails.

  PART THREE

  Tropical Weather Outlook

  National Hurricane Center, Miami FL

  Wednesday, 18 September 2002

  Attention all shipping:

  The National Hurricane Center is issuing advisories on Tropical Storm Cristobal, north of Haiti.

  Cyclone tracking south towards the Windward Isles at 110 miles per hour, current risk rating: severe

  41

  Wednesday, 18th September 2002

  NILE WATCHES THE guests leave. The storm has finally landed, the wind arriving in gusts that send the guests’ clothes billowing, but most are in good spirits, a few drunk enough to lean on friends’ shoulders as they say good night. It’s after 1a.m. when staff from Basil’s Bar gather up ice crates, then fold trestle tables away. Lily is helping to collect empty beer bottles that are scattered across the sand. The fire is dying down already, its flames dancing less wildly in the savage wind. Thick cloud is swirling overhead, snuffing out the stars.

  Phillip Everard seems to have coped well with the evening, even though Nile has caught him assessing the crowd, clearly hoping to identify the killer. He looks tired when he approaches Nile.

  ‘Have you seen Vee lately?’ he asks.

  ‘She was chatting to a guest from the Cotton House a few minutes ago.’

  ‘I need to find her. She wants to hand out tips before the staff go home.’

  The two men scan the beach, then Nile pulls out his phone and calls Eden House. Panic glitters in Everard’s eyes when there’s no answer. The man’s fondness for Lady Vee has shown from the start, as if she’s one of the few people on Mustique the actor really trusts. They’re still discussing where she could be when a figure rushes out of the dark. Jose Gomez has chosen a strange time to reappear, just as the party ends. His hair is dishevelled, clothes covered in sand; there’s a wild look on his face when he grabs Lily’s wrist. The young man’s expression is frantic as he tries to drag her across the beach. Nile can see his lips forming words, but no sound emerges. Lily does her best to reassure him, but he takes no notice. Gomez’s behaviour changes when Nile approaches. He cowers, like a child waiting for punishment, but the detective keeps his voice gentle.

  ‘What’s wrong, Jose? Your mother’s worried about you.’

  The gardener transfers his attention to Nile; there’s a pleading expression on his face when he beckons him to follow. Gomez crosses the sand at a rapid jog with the detective close behind, their steps guided by moonlight. He comes to a halt by Lady Vee’s dune buggy, and Nile’s concern increases. She would never walk away before the party ended, leaving her transport behind. Gomez gestures towards the buggy again. When Nile looks more closely a piece of coral lies on the driver’s seat. Its surface is incised with crossed arrows.

  ‘Not you too,’ Nile mutters under his breath.

  Gomez is already running away, but the detective’s long stride helps him catch up. The young man is out of breath when he grabs his shoulder.

  ‘Who took her, Jose? What did you see?’

  The tears welling in Gomez’s eyes spill down his cheeks, but it’s his expression that convinces Nile of his innocence. It’s full of confusion, as if the adult world is a riddle he can’t solve. The detective tells him to run back home. Gomez has proved that Lady Vee’s been taken, but can’t explain why. Whoever took her has left him terrified. The killer must have been watching from the dunes. Nile has been so busy observing the crowd for unnatural behaviour, he never believed the party’s host could be seized right under his nose.

  Lily is blank-faced when Nile returns to the buggy; she’s clutching Phillip Everard’s hand, but her voice is calm.

  ‘Vee’s been taken, hasn’t she? Jose saw it happen.’

  ‘Go back to Eden House straight away, both of you, please. Lock the doors and wait for me there.’

  Everard shakes his head. ‘I’ll come with you. We have to catch that maniac, before Vee’s hurt.’

  Nile taps the gun he’s carried since collecting his uniform from the police headquarters. ‘I’m armed, remember? It’s my job to keep you safe.’

  Lily protests hard, but Nile waits until Everard helps her into the buggy and they set off for Eden House. Now he’s alone on the beach, where the only evidence that a party took place is the fire’s dying embers, and the moon’s pale face withholding judgement. There’s an odd sensation in his gut: he’s certain someone’s watching. He felt the same in Oxford when another life slipped from his gra
sp. No one blamed him at the time, but his conscience has needled him ever since.

  ‘You sick bastard!’ he yells at the dark.

  Nile’s only reply comes from the wind shrieking overhead as the storm finally hits, its battle cry condemning him as he hurries inland.

  42

  MY NIGHTMARES ARE coming thick and fast. I can see Lily swimming out to sea; there’s a black ridge of cloud on the horizon, and waves lashing the shore. I call out, but my voice is lost in the storm. She’s vanished when my eyes flick open. All I can see is darkness. My mouth is stuffed with cotton, the gag between my lips pulled tight.

  I can’t make sense of the pain between my shoulders, and there’s a dry stench of chemicals whenever I swallow. I’m lying on a wet concrete floor, my cheek resting on the ground, and every muscle hurts. My wrists and ankles are bound so tightly with rope my hands and feet feel numb. I’ve never felt so exposed, lying in a foetal position, at the killer’s mercy.

  One minute I was dancing with Phillip, then I spotted him clowning around with Lily on the far side of the crowd and my vision blurred. The truth arrives as I piece the events together. My drink was spiked. That explains why my head’s spinning, and the vile taste in my mouth, my limbs still trembling. I should have stayed with people I love, instead of staggering away, desperate for privacy. I have to focus on staying alive, and I must be near someone’s property. Whoever dragged me here is afraid I’ll cry out, or why bother with the gag? I drag my cheek across the ground, to loosen its grip, but only graze my skin on the floor’s rough surface.

  I intend to fight for my life with every fibre of my being, but my situation couldn’t be much worse. I’m trapped, with a mechanical whir buzzing in my ears, and a tropical bird screaming for morning as it flies overhead.

  43

  NILE RUNS THROUGH suspects in his head while the dune buggy judders across the sand. He’s certain the killer has a personal score to settle with Lady Vee. His strongest suspects are now Keith Belmont and Dexter Adebayo. Knowing which man to pursue first could prevent the murder of a woman he’s respected all his life. The wind is suddenly hard enough to make the palm trees sway and bend, when he takes the quickest route to Keith Belmont’s villa. The old rock star is the only man on Mustique who Lady Vee actively dislikes, and Nile feels sure he’s hiding something. The musician left the party early with a young tourist, but she may only have been his alibi, allowing him to return and complete the abduction.

  The detective would never normally approach one of the villas at 2a.m., especially when the owner is seducing a teenage girl, but right now he doesn’t care about complaints to headquarters. He keeps his thumb on the doorbell until a groggy voice on the intercom tells him to stop the bloody row.

  Belmont is wearing boxer shorts, a black T-shirt, and a heavy frown when the security door slides open.

  ‘What the hell do you want?’

  Nile steps inside, before the musician can banish him. ‘Lady Vee’s gone missing.’

  A shocked look crosses the musician’s face, but that could be another sham, like his claim to be a reformed character. The man reeks of booze and cigarettes, his brash body language reflecting his discomfort at being caught in the act. He struts away, then returns in a bathrobe, more relaxed under a fresh layer of camouflage. Belmont fetches two tumblers of water, his scowling still in place when Solomon towers over him at the table.

  ‘Where’s the girl from Firefly?’

  ‘I came to my senses just in time, thank God. I walked her back to the hotel and gave her a chaste kiss good night. That deserves a medal, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘I’m trying to change.’ Belmont’s head drops forward suddenly. ‘I only have to try something once to crave it all the time, that’s the problem with an addictive personality. People like me don’t stop eating when our bellies are full, like the rest of humanity, and it’s not just sex. I’m the same with fags, alcohol and drugs. I’m even obsessed with coral now – but I’ve pushed things too far with Lily’s project. I should apologise.’

  ‘You’re saying the girl’s safe?’

  ‘She’ll be tucked up in bed, but I need someone like you to keep me on the straight and narrow. It was so bloody tempting to bring her here, to avoid waking up alone.’ Belmont sighs, and Nile wonders if the man’s real identity is showing at last. ‘I screwed up big style tonight, but tomorrow I’ll get back on the wagon.’

  ‘What time did you come home?’

  ‘Over an hour ago, feeling like an idiot. I’ve screwed up enough women’s lives.’ Belmont’s bloodshot eyes connect with Nile’s face at last. ‘Do you know what really hurts? My kids stopped talking to me years ago. They don’t even answer my calls.’

  ‘That’s not relevant. I have to find Lady Vee.’

  Belmont ignores his comment. ‘Haven’t you got any addictions, Solomon?’

  ‘Exercise, maybe. I went to the gym or ran every day in the UK.’

  ‘That doesn’t count.’ Belmont’s mocking laugh sounds like liquid gurgling down a drain. ‘Mine were drink and drugs. All I had to do was lift the phone.’

  ‘Who do you call?’

  He hesitates before replying. ‘Never the same person twice.’

  ‘Dex Adebayo?’

  The surprise on Belmont’s face proves that Nile’s guess is correct. It explains how his brother got involved too; Lyron must see him every day.

  ‘You’ve never liked Lady Vee, have you, Mr Belmont?’

  ‘We rub along, but most aristocrats despise ordinary people. She thinks she’s a cut above, and her husband’s the same.’

  ‘That’s not my experience.’

  ‘She’s had every kind of privilege. I knew she’d put a spanner in the works, with Lily’s charity. I could have financed that coral project for years, but she doesn’t want me getting my grubby paws on it.’ Bitterness resonates through the musician’s voice. ‘She thinks men like us should stay in the gutter.’

  ‘Lady Vee’s the most generous woman on Mustique. The Blakes paid for my education, with no strings attached.’

  ‘You’re being naïve.’ Belmont places his glass on the table with more force than necessary. ‘If you wanted to date her precious goddaughter she’d banish you from Mustique.’

  ‘I disagree,’ Nile says, staring back at him. ‘Can you prove what time you got home?’

  ‘I’ve written a few emails. They’ll show what time they were sent.’

  ‘Let me see your computer, please.’

  ‘I made a call as well, to Pastor Boakye.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘He lets me ring him whenever I’m tempted. The guy knows I’m battling my demons. Maybe that’s because he’s got his own too.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘I like to know who I’m dealing with, so I checked him out on the Internet and made a few phone calls. It turns out there’s no record of him training at a seminary in Nigeria, or serving at a church in Lagos, but who cares? The guy’s shown me more genuine kindness than anyone here.’

  Nile’s interest quickens. Many islanders have sung the priest’s praises, but it’s possible he’s a fraud. He should have checked the guy’s CV before believing his story about being sent abroad by his bishop.

  Belmont is staring at the table’s surface. ‘The only person I hurt is myself. Lady Vee’s a snob, but that’s not my problem. Why would I suddenly go on the rampage now, after a lifetime of being patronised?’

  ‘The coral means a lot to you, doesn’t it?’

  ‘It’s like me, that’s why. The original comeback kid. I’ve overdosed by accident, and had a liver transplant. It’s a wonder I’m still here, and the coral’s the same. You can regenerate a whole reef with a few well-placed grafts.’ The yearning on Belmont’s face takes Nile by surprise.

  ‘Show me those emails please.’

  ‘You’ve got demons too, Solomon. It’s written all over your face. Who did you hurt, on your way up?’
>
  ‘Don’t make me arrest you, Mr Belmont.’

  The musician rises to his feet at a slow pace. Nile’s pulse is racing, even though it’s the wrong time to dwell on past mistakes. The storm is gusting over the villa’s roof, its cry a high-pitched wail.

  44

  THE ROOM IS completely dark, apart from needles of moonlight piercing through holes in the wooden walls. Pictures crowd my mind. My children are small again, running to me as I collect them from boarding school. The two lost ones are flesh and blood in my arms. I want to follow them, and only need to let myself drift, but instinct makes me fight back to the surface. The drug in my body is making me twitch but my mind is alert and ready. I need to get home for Lily’s sake. The girl has lost too many loved ones already; I don’t want her arranging another funeral.

  I can see clearly at last, my vision improving. I catch sight of a lawnmower, buckets and mops. When I strain my eyes again, containers of salt and chlorine are stacked on shelves, and shock overtakes me. The place looks familiar, because it’s mine. I’m trapped inside the pool house where Jose keeps cleaning equipment. The building lies a hundred metres from the terrace of Eden House, half-hidden by trees and overgrown hibiscus. Instinct makes me put back my head and yell, but the only sound that escapes my gag is a muffled whisper.

  45

  NILE SEES CHARLIE Layton guarding Sacha Milburn’s room when he reaches the medical centre. The security guard appears to realise the importance of his role at last; he’s sitting bolt upright, eyes fixed on the door, ready to stop any stranger entering. He looks thrilled when Nile thanks him, like a prefect receiving praise from his favourite teacher, but Sacha is still unconscious, her red curls splayed across the pillow. Ten minutes pass before Dr Pakefield rushes through the entrance doors, looking flustered.