by John Molloy
“Great! that settles that,” and, he added a little reluctantly, “they’ll be only the two of us if that’s all right with you?”
“I wouldn’t have expected anymore; two can crew this boat in their sleep and we’ll only be island hopping which is a breeze in itself.”
Kerstin stood up.
“Ok, that’s sorted, now I must get back to finishing the hull so we can drop her in the water tomorrow.”
“Looks like you’re on your way old boy and I hope you manage to successfully conclude your unfinished business with that murderer.”
“Thank you Scott. I hope to be back again when this is all over, but how did you know?
“Monty told me. However, by now practically the whole island knows why you came back.”
Henry’s happy expression suddenly changed.
“I haven’t told Kerstin about any of this. Do you think it only proper I tell her before we sail?”
“Listen to me, Kerstin is a big girl and has been around the block a few times. I don’t mean that in any kind of derogatory way but if anyone can understand these things, it’s her. You’ll have plenty of quite days at sea when you can share stories about your lives. The only thing is, I’d like to be a fly on the bulkhead listening.”
Henry regained his jovial composure again and smiled. “Could be interesting listening.”
He arrived at the boatyard next day after three o’clock as the lift was taking the Witch up and lowering her into the dock. Looking at her floating she was even more beautiful - his own very yacht. She was as sleek as a gazelle, her name now proud yellow on mahogany board.
“Ahoy!” Kerstin shouted as she waved him to come on board.
“She’s much more elegant in the water. I’m proud to be her owner.”
“Yes,” she interrupted him, “and I her skipper.”
“Now then Henry, everything is ready, just choose your bunk. I must make up a list of stores; we can adjust these to length of voyage. So where to from here?”
“I wanted to make Jamaica first stop if that’s ok with you?”
“Wherever you want to go is fine with me. I’ll sail to any port in the world on this one. So what port in Jamaica should we go to?”
They went to the chart and after a little consultation they decided on Montego Bay.
“Right, we’ll be ready to sail first light the day after tomorrow.”
Henry was judging the distance to Montego Bay - it didn’t look very far.
“I’m sorry Kerstin but I won’t be much help for a bit until you show me the ropes and will you also teach me some navigation?”
“After a couple of weeks of training you’ll be fit to sit your yachtsman’s exam.
“Is that so?”
Yes Henry, you’ll be fine. By the way, you would be well advised to bring any cash with you in U.S. dollars; they’re acceptable all over the Caribbean. And I’ll need some cash tomorrow for stores and diesel, also to pay the harbor dues for the couple of nights stay here at the pier. The last owners will pay for all expenses up to the day you purchased the wonderful Amber Witch.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
His new skipper produced a writing pad listing everything she had to do before the yacht would be ready to sail and handed it to Henry.
“Kerstin you’re a marvel, I never thought there was so much involved. I’ll go and get my belongings and take up lodging’s as from tonight.”
She smiled a captivating beautiful smile.
“Great Henry. I’ll see you later. I must get on with this list and by the way, is there any food preferences before I order?”
He scratched his head. No, not really, I’m very easy to please as far as food is concerned. I’m sure you’ll know best so I’ll leave it in your capable hands.”
Heading back into town, he did some last minute shopping and he drew out some U.S. dollars. Back at his hotel as he was packing his few belongings, he picked up the old atlas. It was the very same atlas he had studied before joining the Rangoon. As he leafed through the yellowing pages, he saw the markings and notes he had made at the time and had added to when he got back to Britain. It was his own personal record of the murders. He had purposefully brought it along to remind himself that even after all these years he had to bring the killer to account.
Arriving back at the yacht, he saw Kerstin’s gear on a bunk in the outside cabin so he moved into the larger interior space. He packed away his clothes and locked his valuables into the small safe, the key of which was in the lock. Good grief, she thinks of everything. She must be ashore getting stores, he thought, so he lay himself down and fell into a deep sleep.
The sun was streaming through the small port windows when he awoke. He thought he was dreaming when he smelt fried bacon.
The door opened and a beautiful face beamed at him.
“Breakfast up, as soon as you’re ready.”
My goodness, I must have slept right through. It’s morning.
Kerstin served up a breakfast fit for a prince.
“You slept like a baby. I didn’t want to wake you earlier. Its seven thirty and I must be off to organize the final lot of provisions. I’ll be back before lunch.”
“Ok, and thanks for such a lovely breakfast.”
After he had finished his second cup of coffee, he walked on deck and noticed a small ladder amidships on the outward side, so he decided to go for a swim. The water was warm and he swam round practicing a few strokes he thought were beyond him, he was so pleased how easy it was to get back to; he hadn’t swam much in twenty years. He climbed out and felt invigorated. My, he thought, this was such a good life, but I mustn’t forget why I’m here. Whether I’m successful or not, I’ll never leave this beautiful part of the world.
Back in the cabin, he wondered if he should talk to Monty before they sailed. He might be able to give him some advice about how to search for Tukola. And what type of tactics he could use. Henry wondered if the killer was still using his own name, and whether he was dead or alive; maybe he was living in some other remote part of the world. He held his head in his hands in despair. Is this a crazy fool’s errand? It must be a million to one that I will find him even if he is in the Caribbean. As his despair deepened he could see the black birds circling overhead. He saw Shirley, Nilima and Pippa; they were weeping, their tears gathered together and formed a small stream that flowed like a waterfall but never reached the ground. He felt the wet soft tears on his face and he swore he’d go on: ‘I promise you I’ll find him,’ he repeated to himself several times. Then he thought, I’ll have to tell Kerstin why I’m here. She may want to leave and not sail with an obsessed old man chasing revenge.
He had showered and shaved before she returned in a small vehicle which she promptly started unloading.
“Henry, she shouted as she handed up the boxes, “put those ones straight into the freezer and those in the fridge.”
“Aye-aye skipper.”
He decided to break the story to her after lunch and take the consequences if she decided to leave.
As she stood up to take the plates off the table, Henry reached over and took hold of her hand.
“Kerstin could you sit a minute, I have something I’d like to discuss with you.”
Sensing something was bothering him, her demeanor took on a more serious air, as she placed her hands together and lent them on the table sitting opposite Henry.
“I have to tell you why I bought this yacht and why I’m sailing to the islands. I’m sure you’ve wondered why a man of my age would do something like this. I suppose you could you call it a wild adventure.”
She smiled; I’ve met lots of men and also women who decide later in life to do just what you’re doing - it’s not strange at all. But if you’re referring to your quest for the man who you captured forty years ago, the man who murdered all those girls, including your own niece and who you are hoping to track down again…”
“My God! he interrupted, you know?”
“Yes, I do! So does everyone in Georgetown! It’s on the lips of the all the locals and they wish you success. I’m proud to be the one sailing with you and if I can be of assistance in any way other than sailing, I’ll be more than willing to help. If it’s possible, together we’ll catch the filthy scum and bring him to justice.”
“My goodness Kerstin. So you know all about it? I’d never have guessed so many people knew.”
“It’s not such a lonely world, when someone wants to do good, they have lots of friends; everyone loves a hero.”
“I’m not a hero nor have I ever been. I was just doing my job.”
She leaned over and held his hand.
“To the people here who know what you are trying to do, you are their hero.”
“Thanks you Kerstin.”
He stood up and walked out on deck.
‘But heroes are only for Hollywood,’ he mused.
The sun rising in the eastern sky brought light to the softly rippling surface of the sea. The diesel engine made a regular hum as Kerstin stood at the wheel. Henry jumped on board having thrown the last mooring rope onto the deck.
“All clear,” he shouted.
Henry watched as they slowly moved from the berth and slipped out into the calm morning sea. Further out a fresh offshore breeze pushed them on towards the brightening sky. He looked at Kerstin silhouetted in the infant light; the soft wind wafting her silky hair around her bare neck and shoulders. They were soon alone on the vast sea as the island sank beneath the horizon. The heat of the sun awoke the seabirds and flying fish flew, splashing as though some giant had flung silver dollars across the sparkling expanse of turquoise water. Kerstin set her course and left the wheel to hoist the sails with Henry. The white canvas billowed full and heeled the vessel to starboard. She was now racing like an ocean athlete enjoying her newly found freedom.
“Knock off the engine and we’ll get a bit of breakfast. It’s so wonderful to be back at sea, there is no other feeling in the world like it.” Kerstin was so invigorated and refreshed as she balanced against the sloping deck. She looked up at the sails and happy at what she saw went below to prepare breakfast.
They made six knots all day with the lively breeze on their quarter. Kerstin marked in their position; at twenty hundred hours and at five knots they would be in Montego Bay by six hundred hour the next morning.
“We’ll slacken her a bit, although the wind might fall off during the night. And seven hundred hours would be a better time to arrive - we’d have the daylight by then.”
Henry watched her at the chart working the dividers, calculating their expected time of arrival and hoped someday he’d be as accomplished himself.
“Fine to arrive at day break. I’ll take the watch now if you’d like to get a bit of shut eye.”
“Ok Henry, I’ll just check on the weather on the radio, there’s a forecast due now. You call me in four hours at midnight or before if you need me.”
Henry stood at the wheel gazing out across the dark moonless sea. A light away off to port was probably a merchant ship; she would pass miles off, heading out into the Atlantic. He marveled at the serene beauty and solitude, alone with the vibrant water splashing along the hull, the sky filled with a multitude of sparkling stars. The time moved on and he could observe the heavenly bodies as they swung around Polaris; small and insignificant but the navigator’s friend.
He felt like staying on for a little longer so didn’t call Kerstin until one o’clock. She came on deck and scolded him for allowing her to have an extra hour in her bunk.
“Henry; watches have to be kept strictly to time, but it’s very considerate of you to let me lie in. However, it shouldn’t happen again! That’s your first telling off, now, goodnight and I’ll call you at four.”
“Sorry about that, but it’s been one of the happiest days of my life.”
He was called for watch at the agreed time. Still feeling drowsy, he could have slept a bit longer. Kerstin showed him their position on the chart and pointed out the lights of Montego.
“I’ll get a bit of shut eye. Please call me at six hundred hours.”
“Will do, Montego looks beautiful from here, it’s like a fairyland.”
“It’s a popular tourist spot, beautiful beaches and scrumptious cafés. Breakfast will be my treat,” she announced as she disappeared below to her bunk.
They finally dropped the anchor off the Montego yacht club a little after eight, and after a swim and shower they were ready for shore. They lowered the little dinghy and rowed to the harbor wall. Kerstin knew the area well and took Henry to one of her favorite cafés. It was busy with the yachting fraternity having breakfast ashore. The food was delicious and cheap. Henry sipped the black coffee relishing the unique flavor.
“I thought that Cuban coffee was special but this is really what you’d no doubt call scrumptious!”
Kerstin laughed.
“I must look up the meaning of that word in the dictionary; it could mean a lot more than I give it credit for. Would you say that a girl could be described as scrumptious?”
Henry rubbed his chin; he had a little frown of contemplation on his brow.
“I could imagine some girls being termed that,” he wrinkled his nose a little, “but she would have to be very special in lots of ways.”
Kerstin leaned across the table. “What kind of special, and in what way.”
He looked into her eyes and detected the mischievous glint.
“She would have to have beautiful eyes, maybe as blue as an arctic sky, be warm, kind, with a spirited soul. Long curled lashes and a pretty straight aquiline nose, full ruby red lips and pearly white teeth. Her high cheeks firm and honey tinted, a long graceful neck sloping to soft sculpted shoulders and topped off with a mane of blonde shimmering hair.”
“Kerstin threw her head back and laughed coyly; then sat forward and sipped the last of her coffee, all the time keeping Henry in a stoat stare.
“You are a real smoothie; inferring that I’m scrumptious, indeed. But I guess you deserve some kind reward for making me feel special.”
I’ll see what I can come up with when we are back on board.”
“Can’t wait,” he grinned.
They left the cool interior of the café and sat on a bench overlooking the sea.
Henry spoke first.
“Kerstin do you think we should go to the police station first or just go to a post office and look through the telephone directory. If that turns up nothing we could get the names of all the registered companies in Jamaica and see is he listed on any of them?”
She stood up.
“Come on, the nearest post office is not far.”
It didn’t take long to go through the Ts. in the directory, and there was no name even resembling Tukola. They inquired at the post office and were directed to a city council office that could supply them with all the registered companies in Jamaica.
“Right my charmer, this is it.”
She took his hand and led him up the steps into the interior of a beautiful colonial building. The receptionist sent them into a young lady relaxing in a room with high ornate ceiling and great big Georgian windows readily coaxing the bright sunlight through. She was young, light coffee-color with Euro Afro features; a beauty in all senses. They explained their quest and she promptly searched her computer and all the information was at their fingertips. Alas, there was no name to match, so they thanked the young girl and left.
“Where now Henry, do you think we should try the police?”
Henry had an envelope with a photo of the computer aged Tukola; he held it up and shook it. “Come on, we have nothing to lose, it’s our last shot.”
The sergeant at the desk showed them into a superintendent’s office. He was very helpful when Henry introduced himself and explained what he wanted. However, he was somewhat incredulous at Henry’s effort of trying to bring a fugitive to justice after so many years. He pointed to a large filing cabinet in a corner, “you
see, that’s full of cases that are more than a year old and we consider them cold cases. We have not the man power to keep going back on old files.” He laughed, “I find it hard enough to keep up with current crime; you see, we have a moving population with tourists and other transient people. If any of these people are mixed up in some criminal activity, before we have time to investigate, they are often gone.”
Henry looked solemn.
“Yes, I understand your very difficult position, but this man I am hunting may not be mixed up in any type of crime. He could be relatively wealthy and appear to be a law-abiding citizen.”
“So you’ve searched the telephone directory and the company register lists; the only place I can search for you is the voting register. Anyone living here for a number of years is entitled to vote, so if he’s here, he should be on the register.” He stood up and walked over to a cabinet and pulled out large four books. He placed them on the desk in front of Kerstin and Henry. “There you are, now you can take them to that room across the corridor and I’ll have some coffee sent into you. Hope you are lucky.”
They took two books each and went across to a large bright room, and sat down to their task. Kerstin smiled at Henry who was looking at his books as if they were text books back at school.
He saw her expression, “I was never good at this end of the business,” he flicked open the first page, “well, here goes.”
It was painstaking work; the coffee came with light pastries and the searching continued turning up a few close names like Takanama - obviously Japanese just fleeting hope. Three hours passed and nothing, Henry complained of spots before his eyes and Kerstin thought she might need to see an optician on her way back to the yacht! They walked back a little dejected.
Henry insisted on visiting an upmarket restaurant for lunch. The rest of the afternoon was spent with mutual agreement on shopping; he enjoyed being dragged through women’s clothes shops as Kerstin bought replacements for some of her swim suits and shorts. In another shop, Henry stocked up on sun lotion and bought a few sun hats. She also purchased a few bottles of French wine, and told Henry it was only to be drunk while in port; “alcohol should be strictly forbidden while at sea,” she proclaimed. He agreed with her whole heartily.