“And for my flavored sugars. Especially when I tell them I am now supplying the Four Seasons Hotel as well.”
“It sounds like you’re in with a chance.”
“I really hope so.”
Fleur switched on her iPad and began to go over her pitch.
Eulalie wished her friend well, but her mind was already on her upcoming interview with Thashin Bapanda. He was another ex-Olympian who had turned his glory days into a viable career. She had considered phoning ahead to warn the school of her arrival but decided against it. The element of surprise was valuable. If he knew she was coming, he could spend time getting his story straight.
“We’re docking in fifteen minutes.” Fleur held up her phone.
“Is that the app with the ferry times?”
“Yes, do you want to have a look?”
Eulalie took the phone. The ferries to and from St. Michael’s Cay ran every half hour from five in the morning until midnight. It would be easy to confirm whether Bapanda had been on one of those ferries on the night Lisa Lavalle was killed. Unfortunately, the ferry wasn’t the only way to get to the mainland. A lot of people had private boats that they kept docked at the cay. He could have had access to any number of private craft.
Nighttime boat trips were supposed to be logged with the harbormaster’s office, but many people waived this formality. He could have left and returned undetected. She handed the phone back to her friend.
After docking, Fleur and Eulalie hired tuk-tuks from the ferry office. They rode out to the school.
“I have a three o’clock meeting with the head of catering,” said Fleur. “If I finish before you, I’ll find somewhere to have coffee while I wait. Don’t rush on my account.”
“Sure. Text me when you’re done.”
They gave their names at the gatehouse that guarded the sweeping gravel drive leading up to the Georgian schoolhouse. It was two hundred years old. The original building had been added on to extensively over the years, but the Georgian style was maintained throughout.
Fleur went to look for the catering department, while Eulalie walked up to reception. She slid her cards towards the receptionist and introduced herself.
“Thashin Bapanda is a potential witness in a police matter. I’d like to speak to him if he’s available.”
“A police matter?” The receptionist glanced at her watch. “Let me check his timetable. He’s teaching at the moment, but the lesson ends in five minutes and then he has a free period.”
“Could you send him a message asking him to come here when he’s done?”
The receptionist glanced at Eulalie’s police liaison card. “Yes, I can do that.”
She stationed herself with her back to the wall, facing the entrance. She wanted to see him before he saw her.
A few minutes later, she saw him approaching. His build and height were right for the man she had met in Finger Alley. He wasn’t in perfect condition these days, but he hadn’t put on much weight either.
She shook hands and introduced herself. Once again, she got no vibes. It was as though she were meeting a total stranger.
“What is this about, if I may ask?” he said.
“We are interviewing people who went to Sydney with the Price William Island team for the Olympic Games. We have reason to believe they might have information about the murders of three women whose bodies have been found in Robson’s Field.”
“Is it three now? I only heard about two.” He shook his head sorrowfully. “Of course. Anything I can do to help.”
“Where can we talk?”
“Come to my classroom. I have a free now, so it will be empty. We can talk in peace.”
He led her upstairs and along a corridor. Dozens of teenagers in old-fashioned school uniform moved between classrooms. It seemed to Eulalie that they were just as rowdy and full of unfocused energy as she and her classmates had been at high school – they were just better dressed.
The ex-boxer led her to a classroom and invited her to sit down.
“That’s better. Now, what can I help you with?”
“Have you ever seen a shirt like this before?” She held up her screen to show him the navy-blue polo shirt.
“Of course. I have one just like it. The Olympic Committee had them made for us when we were getting ready to go to Sydney. It was a kind of team shirt for the athletes.”
“Do you still wear yours?”
“On occasion, yes. My parents tell me I shouldn’t. They say the washing process will cause it to deteriorate. They say I should keep it as a souvenir rather than wear it. They’re probably right, but I still put it on sometimes to remember the glory days.”
“Do you have good memories of that time – when you represented Prince William Island at the Olympics?”
He gave her a surprised look. “Of course! Why wouldn’t I? It was a huge honor. Those were the best days of my life, when I was still on the amateur circuit.”
“You weren’t disappointed that you didn’t get a medal? The only person to get a medal that year was the fencer, right?”
“Sophie, yes. We were all so proud of her. I still see her and her husband sometimes. It creates a real bond to be part of a team like that. You travel together to the other side of the world to represent your country. That’s something you never forget.”
“How did you feel about your own performance in Sydney? Were you pleased with how you performed, or disappointed?”
“My expectations weren’t high,” he admitted. “I couldn’t believe I even made it so far as to qualify for the Olympics. I mean, this was the Olympic Games we were talking about! It was unbelievable. It was a dream come true. I didn’t expect to get a medal, and just as well too because I didn’t even come close. I was eliminated by an injury in the early rounds. My sternoclavicular joint popped out of place. It still gives me trouble sometimes. But I rate going to Sydney as one of the best experiences of my life.”
“Where were you between midnight and six o’clock two nights ago, Mr. Bapanda?”
“Wow. Okay.” He held up his hands. “Talk about changing the subject. Two nights ago, you say? Let me think. Right, yes. That was the night I attended a coaching workshop in Queen’s Town. I didn’t feel like coming back on the late ferry, so I spent the night at my parents. Then I caught the seven o’clock ferry back the next morning. I taught a first-period math class at nine. Does that help?”
“That depends,” said Eulalie. “Can anyone verify that you didn’t leave your parents’ house in the small hours of the morning?”
“Look, if you’re going to go to my parents and ask them a question like that, they’ll swear high and low that they personally watched me sleep all night long and that I didn’t leave the house once. But the truth is that their bedroom is on the other side of the house from the guest suite where I was staying. I could have been coming and going all night long and they wouldn’t have known a thing about it.” He pulled a face. “That’s bad, isn’t it? My only chance at an alibi and it’s no good. You’d better arrest me right now, officer.” He held out his wrists to her. Then he laughed.
“How do you feel about hitchhikers, Mr. Bapanda?”
“Bam! Another change of subject. Hitchhikers? I don’t have strong feelings about them one way or another. Sometimes I pick them up and sometimes I don’t. It all depends on the guy. If he looks like he’s going to steal my wallet, I’ll leave him standing there on the side of the road. But if he looks decent enough, and I’m going in that direction, I’ll sometimes pick him up.”
“What about women? Do you ever pick them up?”
“Women?” He stroked his chin. “The thing about women is that you don’t often see them hitchhiking alone. They’re usually in pairs or in groups. My car is a two-seater. So, no, I don’t often give lifts to women.”
“Is it an open-top?”
“I wish. No, just a regular silver Mazda with a roof.”
“When you think back to your time in Sydney, what were yo
ur impressions of your fellow athletes? And not only them, but everyone who went with you. Did anyone strike you as hostile or aggressive? Were there tensions between particular people? Any issues or incidents?”
He held up a hand again. “That’s a lot of questions. Okay, yes, there were a couple of things. One of the people on the team was a guy called Ron Coward. He did the decathlon. Very fit guy. His wife – or, wait, I think she was his fiancé at that stage – was caught shoplifting from a concession stand in the Olympic Village.”
“I heard about that. No charges were filed, and she ended up paying for the magazine.”
“That’s not the interesting part,” he said. “It was how the two of them handled it afterwards. Their room was next to mine, so I got to hear everything. He really went for her that night after the incident. He called her every kind of idiot under the sun and accused her of spoiling his chances in the athletics world. He said she had shamed him and disgraced him and that maybe they should call off the wedding. He sounded like he had a screw loose.”
“Did it get physical?” Eulalie asked.
“Not as far as I know, although he sounded mad enough for anything. But I think it was just verbal. They must have sorted it out because I believe they’re still together. It wasn’t pleasant to listen to at the time, I can tell you that.”
“Anything else?”
“The bow-and-arrow guy, Laurent Task, got trashed on some of the local rot-gut and made a fool of himself that night. He didn’t keep going on and on about it, though. Security came and had a word with him and he promised not to do it again. I believe he kept that promise.”
“What about when you…?”
They were interrupted by a group of school girls bursting into the classroom.
“Mr. Bapanda!”
“Sir!”
“Mr. Bapanda, have you seen our…?”
They saw he was not alone and began to apologize.
“Sorry, Mr. Bapanda, we didn’t see you were in a meeting. We were just looking for our protractors. We left them here after geometry this morning.”
The teacher stood up.
“I put them in a pile over here,” he said, indicating a shelf next to his desk. “I figured you’d be back for them, seeing as you have homework for tomorrow.”
As the girls clustered around the shelf, picking through the pile of protractors looking for their own, Eulalie saw something that gave her a jolt. They were all wearing red ribbons in their hair. It was striking because it wasn’t the kind of thing you would expect modern teenagers to be wearing. It looked like something deliberate – something conscious.
“Nice ribbons, girls.” She kept her voice casual.
“Thanks.” The girl closest to Eulalie laughed and ran a hand over her hair. “Or rather, thank Mr. Bapanda. It was his idea.”
“That’s right,” agreed one of the others. “It’s totally his fault that we look like a bunch of dorks.”
They found what they were looking for and thanked their teacher.
“Sorry to interrupt your meeting, Mr. Bapanda.”
“At least we can do our homework now.”
They exited in a flurry of goodbyes. Eulalie watched as they disappeared down the corridor. Through the window, she could see onto the playing fields below. There were a number of girls wearing red ribbons in their hair. Too many for it to be a coincidence. She turned back to Thashin.
“What did she mean when she said it was your fault?”
“Hmm?”
“The red ribbons. She said they were your idea.”
“Oh, yes. Those are for World AIDS Day. It was my initiative. But, to tell you the truth, I just like the ribbons. They look so much nicer than some of the weird things girls wear in their hair these days. Sorry if that makes me sound old-fashioned, but it’s true.”
A bell jangled in the corridor outside and he looked at his watch. “I have the sophomores for algebra now. Are we done here?”
“We’re done,” said Eulalie. “Thanks for your time.”
“I hope you don’t think I was trying to get my fellow Olympians into trouble with those things I said about them. I really wasn’t. I love those guys. Like I say, that was the best time of my life, and they shared it with me.”
Eulalie assured him that she didn’t think anything of the sort. She thanked him again and took the stairs back down to reception. As she walked, she sent a quick text to her secretary.
Eulalie: Hey, Mrs. B – is today World AIDS Day?
The reply came back within two minutes.
Lorelei Belfast: No, that’s in December.
Chapter 18
Fleur and Eulalie took the four-thirty ferry back to Queen’s Town. Fleur seemed pleased with her afternoon’s work.
“They wouldn’t commit to anything, but they were definitely interested,” she said. “They are more interested in the artisanal confectionary than in the flavored sugars, but that’s fine. Apparently, some of the kids have been complaining that they’re bored with the dessert selection, so now the catering department is panicking.”
“Bored with the dessert selection.” Eulalie shook her head. “It can’t be good for kids to be as privileged as that, can it? How can they not turn into spoilt brats with that upbringing?”
“Not my problem. All I know is that the school fees are exorbitant, and the parents like to know that they are getting value for their money. If that means paying me a fortune to design bespoke desserts for the little darlings, I’ll do it with pleasure.”
“When will they decide?”
“I have another meeting with them next week. I know how these things work. You have to reel them in slowly. You can’t expect them to commit straight away. You also can’t seem too eager or that puts them off. They want you to treat them like your only client, but they don’t actually want to be your only client, if that makes sense.”
“You’ve learned a lot.”
“Pitching to the Four Seasons was a steep learning curve. I have a much better idea of what I’m doing now. Even if St. Michael’s don’t end up saying yes, I have a better idea of where I want to take the business in the future.”
“I’m proud of you, chérie.” Eulalie gave her a hug.
“What about you? How did you get on with your witness?”
“He gave me some interesting leads. It seems the decathlete, Ronald Coward, got into an altercation with his wife in Sydney. It almost turned violent. Men who murder are often abusive to the women in their lives. I need to look into that.”
“And what about the guy you interviewed – the ex-boxer? Did he give you any vibes?”
“Let me put it this way – why would a bunch of schoolgirls be wearing red ribbons in their hair for World AIDS Day when World AIDS Day is only in December?”
Fleur thought about this. “Maybe the ribbons are on sale to raise funds for AIDS research. Maybe there’s a campaign to see how many ribbons they can sell before World AIDS Day?”
“Could be.”
“I agree it seems a bit odd, but there could be any number of innocent explanations.”
“None of my suspects has an alibi for the night Lisa Lavalle was killed. Ronald Coward’s wife says he was at home, but she admits they don’t share a bedroom anymore and it’s possible that he could have sneaked out. Laurent Task was on Queen’s Cay with his son. Again, the son swears he didn’t leave the B&B they were staying at, but he could be mistaken. Thashin Bapanda was in Queen’s Town on that night, staying in the guest suite at his parents’ house. He says his parents were sleeping on the other side of the house from him and that he has no alibi.”
“Isn’t it a good sign that he admits it? If he were guilty, wouldn’t he try to fake an alibi?”
“Hard to say. The person we’re looking for is arrogant. Instead of laying low when the first body came to light, he killed Lisa Lavalle and left her to be found by construction workers the next morning. He’s no shrinking violet. He’s exactly the kind of person who would look
me in the eye and tell me he doesn’t have an alibi. It would be like challenging me to prove he did it. That’s exactly the kind of thing he would do.”
“So, what now?”
“I have one athlete left. His name is Jules Chatel, and he was Prince William Island’s table-tennis champion. He works at PWI Life.”
“The insurance company?”
“Yes. If they’re still open when we get back to Queen’s Town, I’m going to try to interview him.”
It was after five when the ferry docked in Queen’s Town. Eulalie wasn’t optimistic about finding the insurance company open at that time of day. But the address was in Dockside, barely a block from where the ferry docked, so she decided to take a chance.
The building was still open, although the reception staff had left for the day. People in suits were streaming out of the elevators in an end-of-the-day rush. Any one of them could be the man she was looking for. Of all the athletes who had attended the Sydney Olympic Games, his face had been the most indistinct in photographs. Eulalie had a general impression of a tall man with dark, curly hair.
The elevator doors swished open and disgorged another load of office-workers. One of them was roughly the same height and build as the man she was looking for, so she stepped forward and addressed him.
“I’m looking for a man by the name of Jules Chatel. He’s one of the actuaries here. Do you have any idea where I might find him?”
“Sorry, I don’t know him.”
Eulalie was about to step back when a woman who had been on the same elevator stopped her.
“You were asking about Jules? That’s him over there, standing in the queue to get his parking validated.”
Eulalie thanked the woman and went to the parking desk. It was obviously which one was Chatel, even with his back to her. He was the tallest person in the line. She waited until his parking card had been stamped.
“Jules Chatel?”
“Yes?”
And in that instant Eulalie knew that this was not the man who had killed her mother. He was far too young.
The Eulalie Park Mysteries Box Set 2 Page 36