Richard nodded.
‘I imagine because of the shame, then,’ Rosie said quietly. ‘That she’d failed her children. That she’d not protected Lucy from Freddie. And, I suppose, once she knew that I’d be taking them to Saint Marie…?’
A silence fell on the room, with no-one daring to speak.
‘Then I’m glad I did what I did,’ Rosie said with finality. ‘I did the right thing that day.’
‘But this can’t be true,’ Hugh said.
‘I’m sorry,’ Richard said. ‘Not only could it be true, it has to be true. Helen died on the 13th of June. We have the Police report that proves it. Matthew was born two days later, on the 15th of June. And then, once the three children had arrived on Saint-Marie, the only two people who knew the truth were Lucy and Rosie, and they weren’t telling.’
Richard turned to Rosie.
‘And you didn’t even break that promise after Freddie died.’
‘I didn’t think it was connected. Especially when I discovered that Lucy had been with you when he was shot. I didn’t think that anyone else could have wanted to kill him.’
‘But you started to wonder when Lucy died, didn’t you?’
‘I suppose. Only wonder, mind. I wasn’t sure.’
‘But that’s why it wasn’t enough that Freddie die,’ Richard said to the family. ‘Matthew has spent the last five years on his own fighting his feelings in a school that values the ideals of honour above all else. And yet, Matthew knew that his urges weren’t honourable. And now that he’d learned the truth of his parentage?
‘The shame, confusion and pain that Matthew must have felt would have been enough to sink most people, but we have to remember that Matthew isn’t most people. All his life he’d been fighting the belief that he was somehow broken. And imagine how many times he must have told himself that he wasn’t like his father, Freddie. Or even: he wasn’t like his ancestor, “Mad Jack”. But Lucy’s confession broke the dam inside Matthew. He was like his father. He was like “Mad Jack”. And I think the release was in some ways intoxicating for Matthew. He could now give in to the instincts he’d been suppressing ever since he’d eviscerated that bird. And that meant that Freddie had to die. And then, Lucy had to die as well. No-one could know the truth of his parentage. In Matthew’s sick mind, it was the only honourable thing to do.’
‘You knew,’ a strangled voice said.
Everyone turned and saw Matthew looking at Rosie with wild eyes.
‘You’ve known my whole life,’ he said in a louder voice. ‘You’ve always known!’ he shouted, jumped to his feet and tried to run at Rosie, but Dwayne and Fidel pounced and knocked Matthew to the ground where they held him as he screamed and shouted abuse at Rosie. With his wrists already in handcuffs, Matthew tried to kick at the Police, only relenting when Dwayne yanked the killer’s hands behind his back until the pain in his elbows and shoulders finally silenced him.
Dwayne grabbed Matthew by the scruff of his neck and yanked him to his feet.
‘These are lies,’ Matthew said as he panted to get his breath back. ‘I can show you my birth certificate.’
‘Your short one, perhaps,’ Richard said. ‘But that’s the thing about the short birth certificate. It only lists your name, where you were born, and your citizenship. That’s it. But what about your longer birth certificate? I bet you’ve never applied to get that, have you? Well, I have. In fact, I’ve got it here.’
As Richard spoke, he slipped his hand into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a folded-over piece of paper. Unfolding it so everyone could see, he held up a black and white photocopy of a full birth certificate.
‘Because I’ve got a copy of your long birth certificate here. And while it says father “unknown” – which is understandable, considering the truth – it can’t lie about who your mother is. And it lists your mother as being Lucy Beaumont.’
With a wild howl of pain, Matthew tried to lunge at Richard, but Dwayne and Fidel had him in a vice-like grip.
Richard looked into Matthew’s eyes and saw, in among the shame and fear, that there was also a look that was deeply unsettling. It was a glimmer of triumph. As though Matthew was relieved finally to reveal his true nature to the world.
‘Take him away,’ Richard said.
Dwayne yanked Matthew by the shoulder and led him out of the shower room.
Once the room was clear, Hugh went over to Tom and wrapped him in his arms. Tom looked at his adoptive father and burst into tears.
Hugh held on tight.
Rosie remained sitting quietly. Richard could see that she was trying to process what had just happened. As for Sylvie, Richard saw that she was frowning.
‘But why Tom?’ she asked when she saw Richard looking at her.
‘What’s that?’ Richard asked.
‘I still don’t understand why Matthew had to frame Tom for the two murders. What did he have against Tom?’
‘Ah,’ Richard said, ‘you’re right. He didn’t have anything against Tom. Not really. But I remembered something that your solicitor said when she showed me Grandfather William’s will. She said that when Freddie died, the trust would automatically be dissolved and would then be inherited in its entirety by Freddie’s firstborn, assuming that that person was over the age of eighteen, of sound mind and body, and – crucially – had no unspent prison time.
‘That’s why Matthew worked so hard to pin the murders on his brother. Because the moment we arrested Tom, he’d be stopped from inheriting anything. And when Tom was then convicted of double murder – as I’m sure he would have been, considering the evidence against him, both direct and indirect – then he’d have ended up in prison. Tom would have been ineligible to inherit. The whole estate would automatically have passed on to the next oldest child, Matthew. And seeing as Matthew has always been on record as wanting to sell the plantation, it wouldn’t have even begun to look suspicious when he then sold the plantation for five million dollars.
‘So Matthew wasn’t just killing the only two people in the world he thought knew his secret shame. He was also making sure he inherited five million dollars. And five million dollars is always an incentive to commit murder. Don’t you think, Sylvie?’
A few minutes later, Richard emerged from the shower room to see Dwayne and Fidel already guarding the locked boot of the Police jeep where a handcuffed Matthew was sitting inside. From the way his shoulders were heaving up and down, Richard could see that he was crying. As for Camille, she’d taken Andy Lucas off to the shade of a palm tree and was talking to him.
‘Detective Inspector?’ a voice said from behind Richard.
Richard turned and saw Hugh standing by the entrance to the shower room with Rosie and Tom. As for Sylvie, she was already heading back to the main house on her own.
‘I’m sorry,’ Hugh said. ‘That you saw our family…like this. That you saw what we’re really like.’
Richard knew that there was nothing he could say that would make Hugh feel any better. Instead he watched as Rosie very gently put her arms around Tom and Hugh’s waists. She then nodded once to Richard – in thanks, perhaps, or just to say that she was taking over now – and then she turned and said something to Tom. It looked as though she were suggesting they go home, and Richard watched as the trio turned and started walking back up the hill to their house together.
And still, Mount Esmée continued to loom over the plantation – as it had done for the last two hundred years.
Heading over to the Police jeep, Richard saw Camille take the handcuffs off Andy and then heard her tell him that they weren’t going to hold him any longer. However, she added, they wouldn’t be so tolerant the next time he tried one of his scams on Saint-Marie. In fact, seeing as he owned such a powerful boat, she thought that he might want to leave the island by the end of the week.
Andy thanked Camille, and Richard saw him promise that he’d be leaving Saint-Marie at the first opportunity. Richard then heard Andy say that he was going to tur
n over a new leaf.
Richard looked up at the sun in the sky high above him and took half a step to steady himself as a sudden feeling of queasiness nearly overwhelmed him. He was overheating in his woollen suit, and if he didn’t get into the shade – and soon – he knew he might end up passing out from heat exhaustion.
As Richard strode over to the Police jeep and climbed into its cabin – while barking at his team to hurry up – he found the thought popping into his head that he’d have none of these problems if he wore more appropriate tropical clothes, just like his team had been saying to him. But he couldn’t start changing the rules he lived by at his age, could he? Where was the honour in that?
And then, without consciously doing so, he found himself considering how Matthew had developed his sense of honour while attending a single sex boarding school. Just as Richard had developed his strict code of honour while attending a single sex boarding school. And while Richard was pretty sure that he could never commit murder, the parallels between Matthew’s schooling and his own were a little too close for him to feel entirely comfortable.
At the very least, Richard found himself wondering if he really needed to be so rule-bound the whole time. After all, during the case he’d had a hunch that Hugh had continued to lie to them, and that gut feeling had proven correct. And when he’d torn up the rule book by developing the photographic plates before they were officially ready, he’d got great results then as well, hadn’t he?
Maybe, Richard thought to himself – a bit like Andy Lucas – it was time for him to turn over a new leaf?
By the following morning, Matthew had taken his solicitor’s advice that he’d get a reduced sentence if he pleaded guilty, and had, through his tears, confessed to both murders. But Camille had had to handle the whole interview on her own. Richard hadn’t come in to work at all that day. Nor was he answering his phone. His team were utterly unnerved. Their boss had never vanished like this before.
At lunchtime, a rumour started to sweep the island. It began when a woman from Fidel’s church rang her daughter who then told her boss who then rang Camille’s mother, Catherine. Catherine couldn’t believe what she’d just heard, so she rang her daughter.
‘It can’t be true, can it?’ Catherine said.
‘What can’t be true?’ Camille asked.
‘Where’s Richard?’
‘We don’t know. He’s not come in to work today. Why? Do you know where he is?’
‘That’s the thing, Camille. Apparently, he’s been seen at the Saint-Marie shopping mall.’
‘At the mall?’
‘That’s right.’
‘But what’s he doing there? He’s supposed to be here.’
There was a pause at the other end of the line while Catherine made sure that no-one at her bar could overhear her.
‘I believe he’s been shopping,’ she whispered. ‘Clothes shopping.’
‘He’s been shopping for clothes?’
‘I know! I can’t believe it myself. Apparently he’s bought a pair of jeans.’
‘But that’s impossible,’ Camille said, trying to imagine her boss wearing a pair of jeans and failing.
‘And it’s not just that,’ Catherine said. ‘He’s bought T-shirts. In lots of different colours. And shorts. Cotton shorts. And a pair of sky blue espadrilles.’
Now it was Camille’s turn to feel light-headed. This couldn’t be true, could it? And when she told Dwayne and Fidel what she’d just heard, they were just as disbelieving as she’d been. But then something happened that proved to them that this was indeed an age of miracles.
Richard rang Camille and said that he wanted the team to come around to his house for a drink after work as he had something to show them.
Richard had never voluntarily invited his team round for a drink at his shack before.
And so it came to pass that, just after six pm, Dwayne locked up the Police station and he, Camille and Fidel got into the Police jeep and drove to Richard’s shack on the beach just outside the town of Honoré. They only just resisted turning on the lights and siren to make sure they arrived there as fast as they could.
As they approached the shack, they could see that all of the windows were shuttered, as were the French doors. In fact, it looked as though the shack had been made secure for winter. Or was unoccupied.
‘Sir?’ Camille called out.
‘Stay where you are!’ Richard called from inside. ‘Just give me a minute.’
Camille, Dwayne and Fidel looked at each other. If what they thought was happening was actually happening, then, as far as they were concerned, Richard could take as long as he wanted.
As for Richard, he was inside his darkened shack trying to keep control of his racing heart. And, as he looked at himself in his mirror, he knew he’d never felt so vulnerable in his whole life.
He was wearing light blue espadrilles, a pair of jeans and a T-shirt that had thin blue and white horizontal stripes going across it. He wasn’t even wearing socks. That’s how improbable the whole ‘look’ was.
He returned to the main room of the shack and saw his black suit neatly folded on his bed. His old friend. But the day of the woollen suit was over. After all, Dwayne and Camille were right. He couldn’t continue wearing a thick woollen suit in the tropics, could he?
Outside on the veranda, Camille, Fidel and Dwayne were still on tenterhooks. Richard had remained inside for over five minutes since they’d arrived. When was he coming out?
‘Chief?’ Dwayne eventually asked, unable to wait any longer.
‘Just coming,’ Richard’s voice called out from inside.
As Richard said this, his team heard a scraping noise as the lock on one of the French doors was turned. Instinctively, Camille, Fidel and Dwayne all took a step back to give their boss room.
This was it.
The moment of truth.
The French doors swung open and Richard stepped out onto the veranda wearing black brogues, black socks, a thick woollen suit, crisp white shirt and a Metropolitan Police tie – and in his hands he was holding a full bin bag that was tied into a knot at the top.
‘What…?’ Dwayne managed to splutter.
‘What do you mean, “what”?’ Richard asked irritably.
‘Well, it’s just…’ Dwayne said, before realising he didn’t have the courage to finish the sentence.
‘What’s in the bin bag, sir?’ Fidel asked.
‘Oh, this thing?’ Richard asked, holding up the bin bag as though it were of no consequence. ‘Just taking out some rubbish,’ he then added grimly.
As he spoke, Richard moved to the side of his house where there was an empty metal dustbin, and he stuffed the bin bag into it.
‘I don’t understand,’ Camille said, going over to her besuited boss.
‘What don’t you understand?’
‘Well it’s just, you weren’t in the station today.’
‘I know.’
‘So what were you doing?’
‘Shopping.’
‘Shopping? What were you shopping for?’
‘Well, among other things, I thought I might have a barbecue,’ Richard said, and then went back into his house.
Camille took half a step towards the dustbin, but before she could open up the bin bag to see what was inside, Richard re-emerged holding a heavy bag of barbecue coals and other barbecue equipment in his hands.
‘But I heard a rumour that you’d been clothes shopping,’ Camille said.
‘Oh you did, did you?’ Richard said as he dumped the barbecue equipment on the sand a few feet from the bin.
‘Yeah. You were seen trying on a pair of jeans. And T-shirts. And shorts.’
‘Me?’ Richard asked as he returned to his dustbin and dragged it over the sand towards his barbecue equipment. ‘I’d check your sources if I were you, Camille. Have you ever seen me wearing those sorts of clothes before?’
‘Yes. When you went undercover to catch Andy Lucas.’
‘But
that was for work. I’m talking about whether you could ever imagine me voluntarily wearing those sorts of clothes.’
‘Of course, sir. That’s what everyone wears.’
‘Yes,’ Richard said as he poured barbecue coals into the metal bin and then laced the whole thing with copious squirts from his bottle of paraffin, ‘but as you so often point out to me, I’m not everyone.’
‘Anyway,’ Dwayne interrupted, thinking of his stomach. ‘About this barbecue?’
Richard pulled a lighter from his pocket and clicked it with his thumb so that a flame jumped up.
‘I’ve changed my mind,’ he said, and then touched the flame to the bin before recoiling as a fireball erupted.
‘You’re setting fire to your new clothes?’ Fidel asked in amazement.
‘What new clothes?’ Richard said, but he couldn’t hide the surge of relief he felt as he saw the flames engulf the contents of the bin.
His day-long crisis of confidence was over, as he’d realised only seconds before he’d been about to step out onto the veranda in his new clothes. Because it was all very well trying to dress like everyone else, but it wasn’t who he was. And if that made him a repressed stick-in-the-mud who was closed off to new experiences, then so be it. And, anyway, wasn’t this in fact the more adventurous way to approach life? After all, anyone could flop about in loose cotton clothes being relaxed. The far more daring path was to wear a suit in the tropics because you felt that Policemen had to wear suits – and then to test that resolve on a daily basis.
‘But you’ve got some food, haven’t you?’ Dwayne asked. ‘And maybe an ice cold beer? It’s hot out here.’
Yes, it was, Richard thought, and then he realised that this was partly because he was standing in a thick woollen suit on a tropical beach next to a raging fire in a bin.
But he’d made his decision.
He was an Englishman, and he’d damned well wear his suit wherever and whenever he liked.
The phone in Richard’s pocket started to ring. He fished it out and saw that the call was being diverted from the Police station. This was what happened in the evenings. They all took it in turns to be the Duty Officer and tonight it was Richard’s turn.
Death Knocks Twice Page 28