by John Molloy
Henry took out a packet of cigarettes and offered one to Monty.
They lit up and sat for a minute silent in their thoughts. Henry had mental vignettes of Tukola; his wary eyes and lithe movement digging a hole in the sand and turning and watching before dropping the case in the hole and covering it over.
The blue smoke rose to be whirled around by the ceiling fan. Henry looked up and blew smoke up to it.
“Monty,” he broke the silence, “we can’t do much until we get the sketches.”
“Henry, come with me now and we’ll find out if they’re ready.”
Henry stayed outside the printers while Monty went inside. He emerged after about five minutes with a handful of the sketches. Henry glanced at them. “These are great, give me one and I’ll move down to the beach area and make some subtle inquiries; speak to a few locals, if it’s ok with you. And I won’t interfere with your men in any way.”
“That’s fine with me Henry; it’s a big area and the more people helping out, the better.”
Monty held the sheaf of paper and looked over Henry’s shoulder.
“Here are some of my lads now. Let’s see if they have anything new.”
“Well lads, anything to report.”
“No sir, nothing to report yet,” was their sheepish reply.
“Right lads, here’s the sketches. I want you to deliver them to all the restaurants, shops, café’s, hotels and guest houses on the island. When you give them out, stress that they are not to display the pictures; just keep them hidden so only the staff can see them. Also stress that he is very dangerous and that if they see him, they should absolutely not confront him. Instead they should contact the police immediately.”
“Understood boss.”
Henry headed off to the beach area.
“I’ll report back in a couple of hours, will you be at headquarters?”
“If I’m not, speak to the duty sergeant and he will contact me.”
Henry was glad of his panama hat as the afternoon sun beat down its desiccating rays. He walked on towards Miss Eden Bay and saw the launch’s tender pulled high on the beach. He stood around like any tourist and noticed Monty’s plain clothes man sitting smoking in torn denims and worn green shirt; he looked ragged and disheveled and looked like a typical fishermen - except for his new patent leather shoes! Well, thought Henry, you can’t always get it right! Henry walked across to where two fishermen were unloading turtles out of their small fishing boat and he stopped to talk to them.
“I’ve never eaten turtle, is it nice?”
They were middle aged men of mixed race, with weather beaten salt hardened features and smiling brown lips showing brilliant white teeth.
“Yes, it is very good to eat. Our people for as long as I can remember have eaten turtle meat.”
The second man stood barefooted, tall and lean as a pole his voice sharp with clear diction as from an English grammar school. “We sell it now to hotels and restaurants, and we go fishing when the turtle are scarce.”
“You speak very good English.”
He raised his chin, a proud tilt to his jaw.
“My mother taught English at the school. Like a lot of people here we came from the island of Montserrat where they have schools for colored people.”
“Could you look at this picture?”
They viewed it with serious concern.
“Did you see this fellow around in the last couple of days?”
“Who is this man?” the thin man asked almost at once.
“He came off a launch in the harbor which came from Cuba, and he is a criminal.”
“He came up the beach two mornings ago while we were getting ready to go fishing. The sun was only just showing on the horizon when he passed. We wondered where he was going: especially with that case”
“You never saw him again?”
“No, we never saw him again.”
“If you see him do not go near him as he is dangerous. Just come to the police and tell them.”
They stood straight and placed their hands on the knives on their belts. The tall man leaned into the boat and took out a machete and waved it around.
“We can defend ourselves.”
“Listen men, this man has a gun so be careful.”
Henry removed his shoes and socks and walked along the beautiful white sandy beach. Then he rolled up his slacks and paddled in the warm water. He walked further up the beach, meeting more fishermen and making enquiries. But he drew a blank with them all. The extent of this beach area was so vast that a person could hide an item large or small and unless he mapped it carefully, would never find it again. To look for something buried without knowing approximately where it was, would be an impossible task.
Deciding he’d done enough for the day, Henry headed briskly back to the police headquarters; it was coming up to six o’clock when he walked in. Monty was at his desk.
“Come in Henry, we’ve had a sighting.”
“Great where?”
“He purchased food in a shop this morning. He could be living rough still wary of being followed.”
Henry sat on the corner of Monty’s desk, eager to relay the results of his enquiries.
, “I met two fishermen who sighted him at sunrise yesterday. He was going up the beach from where the boat is.”
Monty stood up.
“He’s close and he’s going to show up soon. I can feel it, he can’t go far now without being spotted.”
Henry stood and put his hand over the little gun tucked into his belt, hidden by his loose shirt.
“What plans have we in place to go and arrest him if he’s seen somewhere?”
“As you might know Henry, our men are not routinely armed. Have you a gun? please don’t mind me asking but if you haven’t I’ll give you one.”
Henry took out the little hand gun.
“Here’s my weapon, taken from the woman he murdered in Cuba.”
Monty put out his hand and took the little gun from him.
“A mere toy my friend! I’ll issue you with a proper gun before you leave. As you might imagine, these islands are virtually crime free, so apart from myself there are only two other officers who are trained to use guns.”
Monty went to the door of his office and called the duty sergeant. He sent him away and he came back with another sergeant and four firearms. He laid them on the desk. He waved an arm to the three men. “Right help yourselves lads.”
Henry picked up a gun. It was an old model from a World War Two arms chest. The sort that were typically packed off to the colonies during the conflict. However it was well maintained and appeared to work. He checked and found it was loaded.
“This will do the job.”
Monty palmed his and all four seemed very satisfied with their weapons.
“Would anyone like to suggest how we tackle this?”
“I would,” said Henry firmly, “I brought this situation to you and I should be the one to confront him when he’s found. Putting your lives in danger is not part of my agenda, but I will be grateful for your backup.”
Monty leaned over the desk. “Very noble Henry, but he’s in my jurisdiction and I’m responsible for his apprehension; so I think if anyone should approach him, it should me.”
“I won’t argue with you. We’ll do it together and these men will back us up. Agreed?”
Suddenly, a policeman ran in breathless.
“Sir, we have him.”
“Where is he?”
“He’s down in the Palm Grove Restaurant on Fort Street. He just came in a few minutes ago, the manager came running up to tell us.”
“Is the manager outside?”
“Yes sir.”
“Tell him to come in here.”
The young policeman ran out and returned quickly with the breathless manager. Weighing in at around 300 pounds and with reams of flesh hanging over his belt, it was not surprising he was gasping like an asthmatic donkey.
Monty seated him.
&nbs
p; “Now Toni, where in the restaurant is he and has he ordered yet?”
“Yes, he has ordered, and he is sitting alone near the back; the second table from the kitchen entrance.”
Monty looked at Henry.
“Beautiful, we will go in the back entrance; you put on the uniform of a waiter and serve him his meal. Ok with you Henry?”
“Yes, sounds perfect.”
“You two men can stay at the front entrance in case something goes wrong.”
Monty pulled out a pair of handcuffs and linked them to his belt. “Let’s go men.”
Henry and Monty went into the kitchen via the back entrance. Henry put on a waiter’s uniform. The manager whose breathing had just about returned to normal, pointed out to them from a slightly opened door a man sitting with his back to them. “That’s him.”
At first Henry could only see a bit of his shoulder and the back of his head until he turned slightly revealing to wound above his eye.
“That’s him; give me a plate on a tray.”
The manager put the meal he had ordered on a tray and passed it to Henry. He walked to the table and stood slightly behind Tukola as he placed the plate on the table. The unsuspecting diner didn’t look up. Henry put the tray on the table behind him and took out his gun and pressed the muzzle to the back of Tukola’s ear while grabbing a clump of his hair. “If you so much as move a fucking muscle, I’ll blow your brains all over this place.”
Monty pounced, pulled him from his chair and made him lie on the floor. Then the two men outside came running in through the front entrance. They searched him and pulled a hand gun out of his belt.
“Turn him over,” Henry demanded and he took a knife out from his belt.
“Now his legs.”
They searched his lower limbs.
“All clean sir.”
With handcuffs on and rendered totally speechless by the shock of his arrest, they marched him to the police station and into a waiting cell.
One of the younger policemen was about to take the cuffs off.
Henry intervened.
“Leave them on - teach him a bit of manners.”
“Right sir.”
A scheduled meeting next morning with Monty and the Attorney General of the Island at eleven hundred hours was held in the Government administration buildings. Henry met Monty at the police headquarters and walked the short distance up Elgin Avenue to the very imposing building. The Attorney General was waiting in his chambers. An elderly lady secretary was seated at the end of his desk. The meeting convened in very formal fashion and the result as Henry predicted, was that Tukola could not be tried for anything here on the Caymans as he hadn’t committed a crime. Monty read the notes of their questioning of him and his entry to the country. The result was he hadn’t entered illegally and the missing skipper of the launch still remained a mystery. Tukola had said he came ashore with him and they went their separate ways. The eight hundred U.S. dollars found on his person he claimed he got from the skipper of the launch for crewing payment, and some of it was his own sub from the Rangoon. Henry was pleased with the outcome and arrangements were already underway to have him flown back to Britain. Henry asked the Attorney General if he would inform the captain of the Rangoon about Tukola’s arrest. This he agreed to do.
Henry went to visit Maud and Roy and enjoyed a wonderful day fishing with them on their yacht. They swam from the yacht as the evening got cooler and the setting sun awakened a multitude of stars coming out into the clear night peopled the emptiness of the sky. After finishing the last of many nightcaps, he slept on their yacht and dreamed of young beautiful coffee colored native girls, running naked through waterfalls and scampering over moss covered rocks. They called and beckoned him but he was powerless to help as he saw them falling over an abyss, disappearing before his eyes. He awoke with a stifled cry and wondered where he was. It was dark in the small cabin with just a squeak of light coming through the small porthole.
After breakfast he bade goodbye to his two friends, and with his new passport he went to the Bank and asked the manager if he’d hold the piece of jewelry in his safe. It was agreed after some formalities of wrapping and sealing with sealing wax then stamped with an official seal. He had to sign a paper agreeing an annual charge and also a formal will in case he departed this world intestate. Happy to be relieved of the beautiful piece he went to see Monty.
The Police headquarters was back to its normal routine of sleepy village policing. The excitement although still detectable, was fading quickly. Monty was sitting at his desk writing up a report.
“Come in Henry, sit down. I have your tickets for your return to London, and I am sending one of my men with you.”
Henry was a little pensive.
“Do you think that necessary?”
“Actually I do, the whole journey to London will take the best part of two days, and one man could find it a bit exhausting guarding a dangerous individual like this Tukola. You will have delays at airports, meals to contend with as well as comfort breaks. I think two is the optimum for this journey Henry.”
“What is the schedule?”
Monty took up a set of tickets and read from one, the other he handed to Henry. They both read and confirmed in turn the itinerary. Henry whistled soft and low.
“I never thought it could take so long. Miami, stay over four hours, onto Boston, stay over six hours, then Shannon, Ireland, stay over two hours, and finally to London. Quite a journey. I see now why two would be necessary. You’re so right Monty and thank you.”
“Think nothing of it, my man has always wanted to visit London and if I may impose on you, could you give him a day and show him the sights. I’m he’ll tell us all when he comes back and his stories and exaggerations will keep the mess going for at least a month.”
“I’ll certainly do that Monty, and it’s an early start in the morning; six hundred hours, so if I don’t see you before then.”
” They shook hands and wished one another well.
“Good luck Henry and I hope you get your conviction.”
“Thank you my friend.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Henry met his traveling companion at the airport; he was one of the sergeant’s trained in fire arms. He had Tukola handcuffed to himself on a couple of foot of chain, as he greeted Henry. “Good morning sir,” taking out a hand gun and placing it in Henry’s hand. “We will alternate with this, whoever is not handcuffed to him will carry the gun - just for safety in case I dozed off, I could be relieved of same.”
“Good thinking, er,” he paused.
“Edward Melling sir.”
“Let’s drop the formalities, its Edward and Henry.”
The flight to Miami was smooth and brilliant, and the two men were feeling more comfortable with their dumb-struck charge who only spoke when very necessary. In Miami they took it in turns to walk around as the one tied to Tukola could not parade around dangling the connecting chain. The flight to Boston was straightforward enough and soon they were on a turbulent flight to Shannon. They wearily walked around Shannon departure area looking out at the gray skies and tumbling rain. Edward asked how long the rainy season last for here.”
“About twelve months,” Henry quipped, with a grin.
“Ha ha!”
“It looks cold; do you think we might get snow? I’d like to see snow.”
Henry could see the childlike wonder in his eyes.
“Yes we could get snow, and if not snow, frost which is a kind of younger brother to snow.
“I hope so.”
Their flight was called and as they approached Heathrow the gray skies parted to show London spread out in an afternoon winter sun. The sun’s rays glinting on the River Thames as it snaked its way through the bustling metropolis below - a city so vast as to be unreal to the sunshine island visitor.
“Great to be back,” he greeted Vincent as they shook hands at immigration.
Vincent had all the papers at hand and there
were no delays. The prisoner was swiftly handed over to the Metropolitan Police. Edward accompanied them to Vincent’s house. The next few days were free as Tukola wouldn’t be arraigned before the court until his charges were compiled. Henry spent the days with Edward, taking in sights he had never actually seen himself; the art galleries and museums were places of wonder, the palaces, changing of the guards. My-my, he mused, Edward will have so much to relate to his people back home.
He left Edward with Vincent and his lovely wife in the evening and went to meet Vera. The old magic needed a bit of rousing but it did surface, albeit like a spent volcano - spasmodically. Vera still wasn’t fully convinced Oswyn was innocent.
A few days’ later Edward flew home without seeing his snow.
Vincent was elated and congratulatory to an excessive degree over Henry’s pivotal role in the unprecedented success of an operation unique in the history of Scotland Yard investigations. A meeting of top Yard men was called and Henry and Vincent were present. The first priority was to ensure Tukola was kept in custody under the evidence presented to the court thus far. The judge typically referred to as an ‘old fart’ reluctantly gave permission to hold him until new evidence was presented. This evidence was on board the Rangoon which was half way across the North Atlantic. Henry told the top men what was in the box recovered from his cabin, including the victim’s jewelry. Henry left the meeting despondent and not confident now after all they’d done to catch and arrest him, that he could be successfully tried and convicted. Vincent was a little more upbeat.
“Shirley’s ring is solid evidence and the ring from the girl Pippa.”
Henry shook his head in despair looking down at his feet as they slowly walked back to their car.
“I should have shot him in the restaurant. It’d be all over now. Could the bastard possibly walk free?”
Vincent was rattling the car keys in nervous agitation.
“Do you think there is any way we could charge him with the murders on the ship? What evidence do we have for them?”
Henry looked over to Vincent, his breath was white vapor in the frosty air.
“The fingerprints,” he almost stammered, “that should be enough. And there’s the jewelry in the box”