“Can I come with you? I must find Holly.”
“There is no extra space on our helicopters, sir. They fly light. You would be better to wait here at Tiger Bay in case there is any news.”
“You’re right, of course. But I feel so helpless.”
“Is there anything else you would like to tell us, Mr Kenyon? Has Miss Gray any enemies? Has anything unusual happened here recently?”
“No, Holly hasn’t any enemies. She’s a sweet and kind young woman. Too kind sometimes. But some idiot did come to the house the other evening, tried to gate-crash a party we were having after the wedding rehearsal. He was very unpleasant. We soon got rid of him.”
“Do you remember his name or where he was staying?”
“No, I don’t. He was someone Holly once knew in London. Barry gave him a lift to Bridgetown and left him at a hostel. He had no money.”
“Barry?”
“Barry Armitage.” Luke nearly added that Barry was originally the best man but not now, then thought these details would only complicate matters still further. “I can give you his mobile number if that’s any help.” Luke looked it up on his own phone and read it out. “He’s a good friend. He would do anything to help.”
“Thank you. We’ll contact him immediately. Perhaps he could remember the hostel. There are many of them in the old town and on the south coast. For the package trade mostly.”
“I’m grateful.”
“Is there anything else you would like to tell us?”
“I don’t know anything else,” said Luke, his head in his hands. “Just find Holly, please. Find her.”
“Description please.”
“Height five foot seven, I think. Red hair. Green eyes. Slim. I don’t know her age. Twenty-six or twenty-seven perhaps.”
The officer instructed that a cast should be made of the trainer sole. Every brand of trainer had a different sole. It was often a useful piece of evidence.
Lily eyed the police as they were leaving. They looked so smart in their navy uniforms, with a red stripe down one trouser leg. She would like to go out with a police man. She did not want to marry another servant.
The youngest policeman was lingering, writing something on his iPad. She was impressed with his technology and darted forward, her apron very white in the subdued moonlight.
“Excuse me, officer,” she said. “I have some information for you. Are you the right person to give it to?”
“Of course, miss,” he said. “If it is important, I will pass it on.”
“That poor lifeguard, Earl Phillips, the one who was murdered. He was here the other evening, trying to get information about the wedding guests. But I am not saying that he was murdered because he came here. I am thinking that it is strange for a murder and an abduction both to happen - I mean, it is strange, isn’t it?”
Lily floundered, not sure what she meant. She just wanted someone to know.
“And our garden boy was taken very ill. So sudden. He had drunk something bad and was taken to hospital.”
“How do you know the drink was bad? He could have bitten on a manchineel apple. They are poisonous, you know.”
The policeman could smell the supper on hold. It was tantalising.
“He would know that.” Lily was indignant at the slur. “He’s a garden boy. They took away what was left in the jug. It’s at the hospital for testing. But it was nothing bad from our kitchen. Out kitchen is good and clean.”
“Thank you, miss. You have been very helpful.” He gave her a big grin. It always paid to be on good terms with kitchen staff. He went down the wide steps and got into the police car.
“What did that girl want?” the sergeant asked.
“Load of stuff. Not much use. But I’ll type it up for the record. She watches too much television. It gives them ideas.”
“Pity about the supper we were offered.”
“It smelt good. Let’s find the missing woman and maybe they’ll ask us back.
Chapter Eighteen
Danielle was over the moon, enjoying a quiet supper with the man she loved. Barry had reserved a window table at The Cliff, St James, overlooking the Caribbean. The menu was tempting and Danielle knew that the chef was one of the best on the island, with a team striving for excellence.
“This is wonderful. At last we have some time together, darling,” she said. She longed to lean forward and touch the cleft in his chin. It made him look so determined. She was wearing a dress from her trousseau, a cream and gold pleated chiffon with narrow straps and a gold tasselled belt. She knew she looked gorgeous, and could see the admiration in Barry’s eyes.
“Tomorrow morning I’ll buy you an engagement ring,” he said. “The best ring in Bridgetown, something to match your eyes.”
“But I already have an engagement ring,” she laughed.
Barry was silent for a moment. “You seem to have forgotten that Luke gave you that ring and now you will have to give it back to him.”
“Of course, I will. I hadn’t forgotten. I was only teasing.”
“Are you quite sure that Luke has taken this well? Are you sure that he doesn’t mind that we are going ahead with the wedding as planned? Maybe he’s out there now, with a gun, ready to shoot holes in me.”
“I’m certain Holly will have said all the right things. Holly is amazing. She’ll have sorted it all out. I trust her completely. I can’t believe that we are really getting married tomorrow. I can’t wait. It’ll be a wonderful day.”
“So you are going to make an honest man of me, are you?” he grinned. “Keep all the other chicks at bay?” The waiter was hovering for their order.
Danielle decided on a small lobster salad, mindful of being able to fasten her extremely tight wedding dress. Barry ordered the best chilled white wine on the menu and a red snapper dish.
“No champagne tonight,” he said. “We’ll have barrow loads to drink tomorrow.”
His phone rang and he stood up, taking it out of his jacket pocket. “I’ll take this call outside,” he said. “Don’t want to disturb the other diners. Hello, Barry Armitage. Who is that?”
He stood outside in the cool darkness, the phone to his ear, the sound of the sea making it difficult to hear. “Hello, what’s this about? Who are you? What? Yes, I gave some chap a lift to a hostel in Bridgetown. He was being a damned nuisance, gate-crashing a private party at Tiger Bay. His name? I don’t actually remember but the hostel was in old Bridgetown in one of those narrow back streets. I think it was called Jupiter, one of the gods. They will remember him, tall, blonde streaked hair, English accent, very tanned. Paid for his room in dollars.” Barry was going to add my dollars but thought better of it. “Why do you want to know?”
He listened and let out a hollow sound. “Ye Gods. That’s awful. Yes, we’ll come straight away. Let us know if there is anything we can do to help.”
He hurried back into the restaurant, closing the phone and tucking it back into his pocket. At the same time he got out his credit card and called over the head waiter.
“I’m sorry but we have to go. It’s an emergency. But I’ll pay for everything we ordered and add the usual, please.”
“No, there is no charge, Mr Armitage. It is always a pleasure to have such a famous gold medallist in our restaurant. Perhaps you will come again.”
Barry looked a degree embarrassed. “Thank you. Yes, we will come another time, of course.”
“What on earth are you talking about?” said Danielle, flustered. “Why are we going? We haven’t eaten yet.”
“It’s Holly,” he said. “She’s been abducted. The police have been called in. We have to go back to Tiger Bay House. See what we can do.”
“I really don’t understand,” said Danielle as Barry hurried her out of the restaurant to where his car was parked. “How can she have been abducted? Are you making this up? Has she done this just to spoil my wedding?”
Barry took her by the shoulders and gave her a none too gentle shake. “You ar
e the most beautiful woman in the world and I want to marry you, but for once, will you think of someone else? Holly is your cousin. She has been abducted by someone or some people. Did you think we could continue eating and drinking in a posh restaurant when she may be in danger?”
“But what about my wedding, tomorrow?” Danielle was near to tears. “Our wedding?”
“The wedding can wait.”
*
Lucy was about to go off duty. It had been a hectic shift in the intensive care unit. So many road accidents victims, so many cyclists who were not wearing helmets. It was heart-breaking. She had a date that evening but was so tired, she thought she might prefer a quiet evening in the nearby flat she shared with three other nurses.
The Colonel never had any visitors so she made a point of saying goodnight to him. He was always grateful to see her.
“Goodnight, Colonel. I’m off now. I’m looking forward to a quiet evening in front of the telly. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He nodded then tried to say something else. “See…see…,”
She could not leave him when he was trying so hard to find the words. “Do you mean the sea, like on a cruise? We know you were on a cruise ship. It must have been lovely.”
He shook his head and tried again. “See … see …,”
“Ah, you mean see, like seeing with your eyes.” Lucy pointed to her own eyes. He nodded, sank back, already exhausted with the effort.
Lucy pulled up a chair and sat down, hoping she wouldn’t be caught sitting down. But she couldn’t go when the old man obviously wanted to tell her something.
“So you see something? Or you saw something?” He made the smallest gesture towards his leg and his arm, his head. “Was this to do with your accident? You fell down the stairs on the way to the fitness suite, didn’t you?”
“See …see …,”
Lucy did not know what to make of it. She could not leave the old man when he was so agitated and distressed.
“Do you want to tell someone what you saw? Is that it? Your surgeon here? A senior nurse? Ah, I know, the cruise company?”
He looked dejected, if a face that could hardly move could show such an expression. Then Lucy heard the distant sound of a police car siren going over Westminster Bridge and the idea came into her head. It was a long shot, worth a try.
“Do you want to tell the police something?”
He nodded briefly, a smile touching his eyes before he closed them.
Lucy didn’t know what to do. It was beyond her. One of her flatmates had a brother in the police force. Perhaps he could help.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Lucy said, without much confidence.
*
The police were right about Jake running short of fuel but they had not reckoned on him finding the emergency can of fuel and pouring it into the tank. He tossed the empty can overboard, watched it float away.
Holly had slept, sort of, on the hard deck mainly from exhaustion and despair. She had decided her best hope of survival was to play along with this charade.
“Would you like me to make some coffee?” she offered. She had washed her face in sea water, scooped up from over the side, but needed to use the lavatory.
Jake unshackled her right wrist with the key. Holly reckoned they were imitation police issue from some joke shop in Bridgetown. Probably popular at stag night parties that got out of hand. “OK, but be quick. We need to get going before it’s daylight. We’ve a long way to go.”
A long way? Where was he taking her? To some other Caribbean island? She had no idea which islands were the nearest.
Holly made some coffee from the jar of instant she found in a cupboard, put bread and marmalade on the table. One of the cupboards had a pile of neatly folded clothes and she took a dark T-shirt and shook it out. It was too big for her but the clean cotton was comforting on her raw skin.
Jake didn’t notice the added clothing. Nor did he notice when she helped herself to some hot coffee and dunked a chunk of stale bread in it. He was immersed in some navigation charts. He was looking at them as if he understood the complicated detail, but she had no confidence in him having that ability.
“Wash up, clean up the cabin, make something decent for lunch,” he said.
“OK. I’ll do what I can. I’ll see what I can find in the cupboards. It won’t be Cordon Bleu, but I’ll try.” She knew she was gabbling but it helped to try and sound normal.
Jake looked at her suspiciously. “No funny tricks,” he said.
“No funny tricks,” she assured him. “Only cooking.”
He pulled up the anchor and pushed the speedboat off the sand. He started the engine and steered the boat away from the rocky coast. It was barely daylight. He had a plan in mind. He knew Holly’s disappearance would have been reported and they would be looking for her.
He was not sure if they would connect the stolen speedboat Greta with Holly’s disappearance. There was no reason why they should. The next high tide would have washed out any traces in the sand on Tiger Bay beach. He felt pretty safe out at sea. They would be hunting inland for her, searching the hotels and chattels.
His original plan had been to get a written statement from Holly about the lottery win and then get rid of her. Southwark Crown Court had given him bail on a fraudulent cheque charge. His court hearing was in a couple of months. Small stuff really. But if this Armitage chap was really loaded, then he would pay mega-dollars to get lovely Holly back on land, safe and sound, in one piece, maybe missing a couple of toes.
It depended on whether Barry co-operated fast. The longer he argued, the more toes she would lose.
But first they had to find a safe haven. Somewhere so small, no one would find them.
*
No one slept at Tiger Bay that night. There was so little they could do. Lily kept them supplied with coffee and sandwiches. Danielle was in tears most of the time and they were not all for Holly. She had changed into a wraparound bathrobe, her feet in feathery slippers.
“What about my wedding?” she kept asking. “My spectacular wedding.”
Luke looked at her, his face drawn and gaunt. He wondered why he had ever wanted to marry her. Barry was made of sterner stuff. He was used to dealing with difficult athletes and coaches. He knelt at her side, took her hand.
“Danielle, listen to me. We can’t have a wedding with your cousin missing. Everyone will understand and be sympathetic. We only need to cancel the pastor and the witnesses. Let the guests arrive, let the caterers come and feed and water everyone. You will be smothered in sympathy and love and everyone will think you are being wonderful to cancel your wedding for the sake of your cousin.”
“Will they?” she sniffed, dabbing at her tears. “Will they think I’m doing the right thing?”
“Of course they will, darling. You will be surrounded by your friends and that will help your natural distress. We may even get some clues, some leads. The more people talk about it, the more we will learn. All these people are important on the island.”
Danielle cheered up. “I’ll wear something really simple and flowing, darkish perhaps. My hair loose with some flowers.”
“Holly isn’t dead,” said Luke sharply.
They had almost forgotten he was there. But he was on his phone half the night, making enquiries, checking airlines, checking hotels, wondering if she had run away. He didn’t care about caterers, clothes, champagne. He wanted Holly back, safe and sound, so that he could look after her. So that he could love her.
He went upstairs to her primrose bedroom, wondering if he would find some sort of clue. It seemed an intrusion to go into her private room, the room where she slept and showered and dressed.
It was tidy, as he knew it would be. Her shoulder bag was hanging on a chair. So she had not taken it with her. She hadn’t run away. He undid the strap, hating himself for doing it. Everything inside was neatly stowed, purse, cosmetics, passport, address book, a packet of tissues, sunglasses.
He ope
ned the address book. He would not ring her mother or Zoe Carter. It would be too distressing. Then he saw Sadie’s phone number and email address. His laptop was downstairs. He would send Sadie an email. Perhaps she might know something. Holly and Sadie were good friends. Holly might have told Sadie some information which would give the police a lead.
*
Seven o’clock and it was nearly time for him to go off duty. His mobile rang. He switched it on. It was his sister. He hid his annoyance, as she was his favourite sister and made a great lasagne.
“Look, I’ve told you before. Don’t phone me when I’m working.” He paused, and listened. “Slow down and tell me again. Lucy? You mean the nurse who shares your flat? So what has she told you?”
He listened, not paying much attention. Some rigmarole about an old man, a patient. It sounded like the ramblings of a deluded and senile old chap. But she was his favourite sister and he did owe her a few favours.
“OK, I’ll drop by but I don’t promise anything. You’ll owe me a supper.”
St Thomas’s Hospital was not far off his route home. He parked his car in a visitor’s slot, showed his warrant card to reception, took the lift to Intensive Care, showed his identification again at the nurses station.
“This is strictly against the rules,” said the most senior nurse.
“This is police business.”
“Five minutes only.”
“Five minutes will be enough.”
He was shown to the side room and went in, closing the door. He hated hospitals and their special smell. Every time he went to a hospital on police business, it was always because of some dreadful accident or attempted murder.
The Colonel was connected up to all kinds of tubes, in and out. His left arm and wrist were in plaster, his legs under some sort of cage, the pale coverlet neatly smoothed over, white pillows pristine. A lamp was angled away from his face, leaving the rest of the room dim and shadowy.
Dangerous Shadows Page 18