“Why, chérie?” she wailed as Eulalie approached. “Why could you not come up to the apartment? Fleur left an hour ago. I have breakfast ready.”
“Sorry. I’ve already eaten. How was Fleur this morning?”
“A little pale and shaky, but otherwise fine. She is embarrassed about having overindulged in cocktails last night and fallen asleep. She remembers everything that happened until she fell asleep. I told her that we explained it all to her beloved Peter, so she’s relaxed about that too. Hopefully she won’t rush to contact him this morning because his version will contradict hers.”
“At this stage, all I care about is getting to midday without Fleur giving Pringle any money,” Eulalie said. “Even if he does phone her and they have a confusing talk about last night, it will be okay. Anything that distracts them from talking about money is a good thing. I hope he loses his temper and tells her that we are a pair of lying madwomen. Any distraction is a good thing.”
“I agree.” Angel smoothed tendrils of her hair that threatened to escape from a loose bun. “Now kindly explain to me, mon ange, why I am standing out here at this hour of the morning in a stiff sea breeze instead of enjoying a café au lait in my kitchen like a civilized human being?”
Eulalie looked around. She edged her grandmother closer to Lafayette Drive where the early morning traffic swished noisily up and down. There was no one nearby and no chance of this conversation being recorded.
“So now you are going to push your poor grandmère in front of a moving vehicle? Can I at least finish my croissant first?”
Eulalie hushed her. Then she moved in close and spoke words into her ear.
“I know who killed Sawyer Blakely. It was my father.”
“What?” Angel pulled back in shock. “That’s a lie! Who told you that? It’s not true. It can’t be true.”
“No one told me, Grandmère. I saw it last night.” She hesitated. “In my… in my sleep.”
The doubt on Angel’s face disappeared.
“Le bon Dieu.”
“I don’t think He had much to do with it, but I know what you mean.”
“But why, petite? Why would he do such a thing?”
“It was self-defense. Blakely had a gun. He lifted it to fire at my father, who then shot him with an arrow.”
“Okay, that is good. Self-defense is good. But why do you look so doubtful?”
“He didn’t have to kill him, Grandmère. He could have disarmed him in a dozen different ways. Instead he put an arrow through his chest. Blakely had been talking about bulldozing the village – about evicting everyone in it and flattening it. He said he was going to build a casino right on the river. I think my father killed him out of anger.”
“He probably thought he was saving us. He always had a quixotic streak, even as a boy.”
“He should have realized that Sawyer Blakely was just the advance guard. Killing him hasn’t changed a thing. The Megamoxy machine is still bearing down on us.”
“What are you going to do with this information, chérie? Are you going to tell the chief?”
“I don’t know,” said Eulalie. “I haven’t decided. I wish I knew whether my father was still here. He might have left the island by now. We need to keep quiet about it until I have decided.”
“But of course.”
“I must go to the governor’s office now. Megamoxy seems to have a mole there who is working to get the legislation changed so that their bid can go ahead.”
“I wish you good fortune.”
Angel kissed her granddaughter firmly on both cheeks. Then she turned and walked back to her apartment.
Eulalie went to the office to pick up her Vespa. The governor’s headquarters were on the edge of town, just past Dockside.
She drove down to Beach Road and took the Coast Road out past the docks and the yacht club. In French colonial days, a governor’s mansion had been built on the edge of town for the local representative of France to be housed with his family. Then the English had taken over occupation of the island after the Scramble for Africa, and the mansion had been occupied by an English governor.
Now, Prince William Island was an independent nation, but the highest elected official was still known as the governor.
The present governor had run for office on a clean governance ticket, and for the past three years had been as good as his word. Corrupt bureaucrats had been fired and people were starting to trust the system again.
If the Megamoxy deal went through, it would shake the faith of every islander in the honesty of the current administration.
Eulalie parked her scooter in the public parking. The mansion was all side gables and dormer windows, in the typical French colonial style. Only a small part of it was used as a residence by Governor Montand and his family, with the rest given over to offices. As more departments had sprung up, so had smaller buildings to accommodate them.
It was towards one of these that Eulalie headed now – a single-story office that housed the Department of Parks and Forestry. Inside, there was an enquiries desk, and a queue of people sitting on chairs, waiting to apply for hunting, fishing, camping, and other outdoor licenses. Eulalie went up to the enquiries counter and pushed her private investigator’s license and police liaison identity card under the glass.
“I don’t have an appointment,” she said. “But I’d like to see Roscoe Davenport if he’s free. This is police business.”
Chapter 20
Eulalie didn’t have a clear idea in her mind of what Roscoe Davenport would look like – apart from guessing that he was quite attractive if he had colleagues sending him Valentine’s gifts.
She wasn’t prepared for the vision of square-jawed handsomeness that confronted her. He was slightly under medium height, but the perfect features and soulful eyes made up for it. It seemed a shame that such astonishing good looks should be wasted on a climate change denier.
Davenport approached Eulalie uncertainly, holding out his hand.
“Hello, I’m Roscoe Davenport. I was told the police were here to see me?”
“I’m Eulalie Park. I work as a liaison to the Queen’s Town police department. Is there somewhere we could talk?”
He led her to his office, which had a sign saying Deputy Director on the door. They sat down facing each other across his desk.
“Is this about parks and forestry business?”
“Actually, Mr. Davenport, it’s about your blog.”
The alarm that flicked across his face told Eulalie that Mrs. Belfast had got the right person.
“What blog?” The question came a half-second too late.
“Don’t waste my time, Mr. Davenport. I’m in the middle of a murder investigation.” She held up her phone to show him his website. “We know you are the author of this anti-environmentalist blog. We traced the IP address to your computer.”
The Hollywood-handsome face crumpled. For a moment, Eulalie thought he was going to burst into tears. He dropped his head into his hands.
“It was supposed to be a joke,” he wailed. “I don’t really believe all that stuff. Oh, God. I’m going to get fired, aren’t I?”
“What do you mean you don’t believe it? Your whole blog is a crusade against nature conservation. You want to introduce fracking in protected wetlands. You argue that climate change isn’t real. You write love letters to Big Oil. Why would you do all that if you didn’t believe it?”
“I can’t explain!” He covered his face again. “You don’t know what it’s like – working here every day. All I do is think about the potential environmental impact of every single decision. If people apply to camp near the mouth of the river, will their presence upset the birds nesting nearby? Will they step into the river and get swept away? Will they leave litter or cigarette butts lying about? Is it worth it for the revenue that their license fee will bring in? This is all I think about, day in and day out. Can you blame me for wanting to think about something different for a change?”
�
��So, in your spare time you write wild conspiracy theories about how the government controls the weather in order to play into the hands of environmental lobbyists? Why didn’t you take up golf if you needed a hobby?”
“It was the anonymity that I liked. You can say whatever you like, and nobody knows it’s you. I even…” He broke off and giggled. “I even sent emails to this department criticizing them for how they handle permits and licenses. It’s like wearing a mask. Nobody knows it’s you.”
“I hate to break it to you, Mr. Davenport, but my sixty-year-old secretary traced that blog to you in about five minutes flat. If she can do it, anyone can. People like to think that the internet is anonymous, but it isn’t really.”
“I knew it!” he said. “I’m going to get fired.”
Eulalie opened her mouth to say that she had no power to fire him and no intention of reporting him to his superiors. Then she closed it again.
“That all depends. The Queen’s Town police department is less interested in this little hobby of yours than it is in how it affects your policy and decision-making.”
His eyes went round. “My policy? My decisions? But, I’ve never… I’ve always done my job conscientiously. Anyone who says otherwise is a liar. Why, I’m a model employee. That’s partly why I started the blog – because I’m such a good guy all the rest of the time.”
“Here’s the thing, Roscoe. If we found your blog easily, and we did, others will have found it too. Anyone interested in changing the governor’s policy on environmental issues would see you as the logical target to get onto their side.”
“Like who?”
“Like multinational corporations looking to develop parts of Prince William Island that have been declared off limits.”
Davenport’s face creased into a frown that would have been endearing if it weren’t so irritating. “What do you mean?”
“Let’s say someone wanted to build a resort in the deep forest. Strip away all the trees and put up a casino. You would be their go-to guy, wouldn’t you?”
He giggled again. “Build a casino in the deep forest? That’s exactly the kind of thing my blog would support. But that’s a fantasy. It’s never going to happen.”
Eulalie watched him closely. He was a deceitful weasel, but he didn’t seem to be lying now.
“Are you telling me that nobody has approached you?”
“About what?”
“About what we’re talking about. The casino. The casino and theme-park, actually.”
His mouth hung open. “I thought you were joking about that.”
Eulalie shook her head. “No, it’s real.”
“If you think I’ve got the kind of power to push through legislation like that, you’re giving me way too much credit. And no, I haven’t been approached by anyone. I find it hard to believe that developers would even think about building in the deep forest. Have you ever taken the cable car up and looked down into the forest?”
“Sure.”
“It’s one of the most inaccessible places on earth. It’s a sheer drop of hundreds of feet. You’d have to be high to think you could build there. The costs alone would be astronomical. You’d never make that money back.”
Eulalie couldn’t help nodding. This was exactly why the villagers had always felt safe. Several hundred feet of cliff face were enough to discourage most people. She couldn’t understand how a moneymaking machine like Megamoxy could have decided that this venture would be profitable. It was more likely to be a bottomless pit, a place where money went to die.
“Okay. Let’s leave that for now. There are two other people in your department I want to speak to,” she said. “Dominic Chambry and Inaam Patil. Can you ask them to come in here, please?”
“Are you finished with me?” He sounded hopeful.
“I’m afraid not. I’d like to speak to all of you together.”
“Don’t tell me they also have secret blogs?” He giggled a third time. “Okay, okay. I’ll fetch them.”
The two people who preceded Davenport into the room were a little younger than he was, and clearly more junior. Inaam Patil was about thirty, with a self-effacing manner and a tendency to walk round-shouldered. From the way she was looking at Davenport, her crush on him had not evaporated since Valentine’s Day.
Dominic Chambry was more confident. He walked as though he were wearing a bespoke tailored suit, rather than a department store knock-off.
He gave Davenport an extra-warm smile.
“The police?” he said when Eulalie explained what she was doing there. “Oh, Roscoe, no. Is this about your blog?”
“What blog? What do you know about it? No, it isn’t.”
“Roscoe,” said Inaam Patil. “Everyone knows about your blog.”
“Everyone? Even the director?”
Dominic and Inaam exchanged glances.
“Maybe not the director,” she conceded. “But everyone else. It’s kind of funny.”
Davenport groaned and closed his eyes.
“If not the blog, then what?” said Dominic. Something about his manner seemed familiar. It took Eulalie a moment to realize that he reminded her of his sister, Natalie Waylon.
The three Parks and Forestry employees were watching her with varying degrees of unease. Davenport looked as though his life were falling apart. Inaam seemed bewildered. Dominic was on his guard – waiting to have his worst suspicions confirmed, and stacking up excuses in advance.
She thought about sending everyone but him out of the room but decided that it might be useful to have his colleagues know what he had been up to.
“So, Dominic,” she said. “Was it Howard or Natalie who first approached you?”
He jumped as though he’d been stung, but quickly covered it up.
“What are you talking about? My sister and brother-in-law? What do they have to do with anything…?”
“We already know about it, Dominic,” Eulalie interrupted him. “The police know that Howard Waylon wanted to win the contract to build Megamoxy’s theme park. We know he had a meeting set up with Sawyer Blakely before Blakely died. The contract would have been big enough to pull Waylon Construction out of its financial troubles, and to pay off some of Howard’s personal debts.”
Roscoe Davenport and Inaam Patil listened to this in genuine mystification, but Dominic stared at the floor, as though he expected someone to hit him.
“The only flaw in the plan,” Eulalie went on, “was local legislation that has inconveniently declared the deep forest to be a protected heritage site. It is not open for development now or ever. Unless, of course, a new piece of legislation passes through government. And who better to win hearts and minds inside the Parks and Forestry Department than you – Megamoxy’s own personal mole.”
“I’ve done nothing wrong,” he muttered. “I’ve broken no laws.”
Eulalie’s smile was not reassuring.
“That depends, Dominic. That depends on whether we find any sums of money that have landed in your bank account lately, or any correspondence promising you money in return for trying to influence this department. Actually, you know what? There doesn’t even need to be any money. The fact that you’ve been trying to influence government policy for the sake of close family members is enough to get you fired.”
“What makes you think I’ve done anything? I haven’t spoken to anyone.”
One look at Inaam’s face told Eulalie that this was not the case.
“If you know anything to the contrary, Ms. Patil,” she said. “Now would be a good time to speak up. You don’t want to be implicated in this.”
“Is that what you meant when you told us that the Prince William Island economy can no longer afford for certain parts of the island to remain undeveloped?” she asked him. “You made me so anxious. I thought the economy was booming, but you made it sound like it was stagnating.”
“Who else did he speak to?” said Eulalie.
“Inaam…”
“No, Dominic. You ca
n’t pretend this didn’t happen. You caused so much confusion in the office. You made it sound like we were the only people holding the island back from becoming successful. Like there were children going to bed hungry every night because of us.”
Eulalie frowned. “That’s not true. Food security was achieved on the island three years ago, and it has been stable ever since.”
“I know!” said Inaam. “But Dominic made it sound as though everything had gone wrong. Like without multinational investment we would slide back to what the island was in the nineteen-seventies.”
“What I want to know,” said Eulalie. “Is whether this was Howard’s idea or Natalie’s or both.”
Dominic was silent.
“Will the police be more lenient with me if I talk?”
Eulalie didn’t hesitate. “Definitely.”
This was something she could safely promise. It was a standard policy of the police department.
“It was Natalie who approached me. She told me about Waylon Construction being in trouble and about their personal problems too. She didn’t mention that she was the one who had caused their financial insecurity, but I knew it was true. She always was a spendthrift.”
“Did Howard know about it?”
“Oh, yes. As you said, he was the one who was due to meet with the guy from New York. The one who didn’t know about it was his brother, Herbert. Howard was hoping to talk Herbert around after he had secured the contract for Waylon Construction. It wouldn’t have been too difficult. Herbert is an upright kind of guy, but his first loyalty is to the company. He wouldn’t have wanted to see it go under, and that’s exactly what was going to happen thanks to the lawsuit and the drop in client confidence. Herbert wouldn’t have liked it, but he would have done what it took to save the company.”
“So, your role was to persuade Parks and Forestry to back an amendment to the legislation that declared the deep forest a protected heritage site?”
The Eulalie Park Mysteries Box Set 2 Page 17