A Meditation on Murder

by Robert Thorogood

  Richard made a mental note to keep an eye on Ben Jenkins.

  Once the witnesses had finished with the paramedics, Camille moved them to the shade of the verandah and Richard joined them all—but not before he’d sent Camille off to check up on the victim’s wife, Rianka.

  ‘Thank you for all agreeing to talk to me,’ Richard said to the four witnesses. ‘I know this must have been a very trying time for you all.’

  ‘That poor man!’ Ann said, throwing her hand to her heaving chest. ‘What do you think he’d done to that girl to make her do that to him? Is she deranged? That’s all I can think. Mentally deficient somehow!’

  ‘For god’s sake,’ Paul drawled in a patrician manner, ‘be quiet, woman.’

  ‘Of course, Paul. Sorry.’

  Ann pulled her mouth into a contrite mou as if to demonstrate how she wouldn’t be saying another word—not another peep!—and Richard took a moment to look at Paul. There was so little to him, really. His face was almost skeletally thin, his skin was sallow, what hair he did have was grey and wispy and combed over his bald pate, and yet he seemed to have complete mastery of his otherwise far more punchy wife.

  But there was something else Richard could sense between husband and wife, and that was a look of subservience in Ann’s eyes. Why should such a larger-than-life woman like Ann be intimidated by a skeletal squit like Paul? But then, Richard reminded himself, all relationships between men and women were essentially a mystery to him.

  He put these thoughts to one side. It was time to get on.

  ‘I’d first like to thank you all for your help so far. But before we take your formal statements, can I just try and establish the order of events? What happened this morning?’

  ‘Be happy to,’ Paul purred, comfortable to take centre stage. ‘It was a terrible business, wasn’t it? Just terrible. But I’ve been thinking it over, and I think I’ve got it.’

  Paul looked to the other witnesses for their assent. Saskia was looking too quiet and withdrawn to mind who told their story—but Richard could see that Ben was twinkling, clearly amused at how Paul thought he was master of the situation.

  ‘If you would?’ Richard said.

  So Paul told Richard how they’d all had to get up at sunrise, which was why it was called the Sunrise Healing. But before they got to the Meditation Space, they’d been expected to stretch on the beach and swim in the sea as a way of preparing their bodies for the treatment, which was hardly a chore, because, as Paul put it, when someone tells you to go for a swim in a sea that’s warm as a bath and teeming with tropical fish, you don’t really need a second invitation.

  Richard quietly shuddered at the thought. Didn’t Paul know that thousands of people around the world drowned from swimming in the sea every year?

  Paul went on to say that Aslan then came out of the house with a tray of tea things, and called them over. That’s when they put on their white robes.

  This detail got Richard’s attention. ‘How do you mean, your robes?’

  ‘The robes we were wearing when you first met us. We’d been swimming before, so all we had on was our swim things.’

  ‘I see,’ Richard said. ‘And where did you get your robes from?’

  Paul explained that there were little huts all over The Retreat that contained tightly wrapped rolls of fresh cotton robes, and they got their robes that morning from the hut on the beach.

  ‘Then tell me, did anyone see Julia put her robe on?’ Richard asked.

  Ben chortled. ‘Are you trying to work out how she got the murder weapon into the room?’

  Richard met Ben’s eyes properly for the first time, and felt a spike of recognition. Closer up, Richard could see that Ben had a chubby face, dark hair—and, with his plum-my northern accent, he gave off the impression of being a jolly farmer. Even if this jolly farmer clearly bought all of his clothes from Harrods. But for all of Ben’s apparent bonhomie, Richard knew you could measure a man by his eyes. How watchful they were. And Ben’s eyes were very watchful.

  ‘That’s right,’ Richard said. ‘So did any of you see her carrying a knife at all this morning?’

  ‘There’s no way she had a knife on her,’ Ben said, ‘because I’m telling you, when that girl got out of the sea this morning, all she was wearing was a bikini—and it was barely three pieces of string. There’s no way she had a fifty pence piece hidden about her person, let alone a bloody great carving knife.’

  ‘He’s right, you know,’ Paul added. ‘You see, it was me who handed out the robes to everyone this morning. You know, after our swim. And there certainly wasn’t anything like a knife wrapped inside the robe I gave to Julia. And seeing as she put it on then and there—and then stayed with us while we all walked to the Meditation Space together—I don’t see where she could have got a knife from.’

  ‘Then maybe she’d already hidden a knife in the Meditation Space before you arrived?’ Richard asked.

  ‘I don’t think that’s possible,’ Paul said.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Richard asked.

  ‘You’ve been in that room. It’s just an empty box made of paper and wood. And I can guarantee, the only things it contained when we arrived were six prayer mats, six pairs of headphones and some eye masks.’

  Richard was puzzled. ‘So you’re all saying that there was no way Julia could have been carrying the knife about her person before she got into the Meditation Space—and there was also nowhere inside the room for her to have hidden the knife before you all arrived?’

  The witnesses all agreed that this was indeed exactly what they were saying.

  ‘In which case,’ Richard asked, ‘just how do you think Julia got the murder weapon into the Meditation Space?’

  The witnesses had no idea, and Richard could see their confusion. After all, if Julia came out of the sea in her swimming costume and put on her cotton robe in front of everyone else, it was hard to see how she could have hidden a knife as large as the murder weapon on her person. And Richard had seen the Meditation Space for himself. It was indeed an empty box. Any carving knife hidden inside it beforehand would almost certainly have been noticed by someone. Wouldn’t it?

  Richard made a note in his notebook and moved the conversation on. What happened after they’d all got into the Meditation Space?

  Paul explained that once they were all inside, Aslan placed the tray of tea in the centre of the floor before inviting everyone to take up a position on their prayer mats in a circle around the tea. Then, once everyone was sitting comfortably, Aslan went and locked the door. Apparently, he had been interrupted a few months before during one of his healing sessions and had asked The Retreat’s handyman to fix a Yale lock to the door.

  Richard noted this detail and once again considered how odd it was. After all, he’d investigated many murders before, but he’d never heard of a murder where the killer allowed himself to be locked inside a room with possible witnesses before carrying out the murder. It didn’t make any sense.

  Paul explained how, once he’d locked the door, Aslan rejoined the group, sat on his mat and poured everyone a cup of tea. Aslan then told them they all had to drink their cup of tea at the same time.

  ‘At the same time?’ Richard jumped in.

  ‘That’s right,’ Paul said, before explaining that it was apparently an old Japanese ritual that dated back to the days of the shoguns. Everyone had to drink their tea at the same time and then turn their cups over to show that they’d finished.

  ‘Very well,’ Richard said. ‘So you all drank your tea and turned your cups over. What happened next?’

  ‘Well, then we all put on our eye masks and wireless headphones,’ Paul said. ‘Aslan told us that we then had to lie down, close our eyes, open our minds, and listen to the whale music. This was how we were going to heal ourselves.’

  ‘Whale music was going to heal you?’

  ‘It was about losing ourselves in the immensity of the deep. And I was as sceptical as you to start off with. But it’
s an odd one, because when you’re lying there—and you can feel all that sunlight on your skin—and you’ve got your eyes closed, and you’re listening to distant whale song, you do start to drift off.’

  ‘It’s so true!’ Ann said. ‘You go all dreamy.’

  ‘Dreamy?’ Richard asked a little too keenly, and he saw understanding slip into Ben’s eyes.

  ‘You think we were all drugged, don’t you?’ Ben said. ‘That’s why you wanted us to give samples to the paramedics.’

  The witnesses looked at Richard and he realised he had an explanation to give. ‘It’s a possibility I’m not ruling out. After all, it’s somewhat unusual that a murderer would have the confidence to strike in a confined space in front of so many witnesses. One explanation might be that you were all drugged and the killer wasn’t.’

  ‘I definitely felt woozy when I woke up,’ Ann said. ‘And so did Paul. He had difficulty waking up in fact. I had to shake him by the shoulders.’

  Paul looked at his wife with quiet disdain. Clearly, while he was happy to talk on the behalf of others, he wasn’t so happy when his wife talked on his.

  ‘So did I,’ Ben said.

  ‘And me, too,’ Saskia said, speaking for the first time. ‘I couldn’t wake up to start off with, and my head was throbbing. Although I soon forgot about all that when I saw what had happened while I’d been wearing my eye mask.’

  ‘Of course,’ Richard said, making a note. ‘And what exactly did you see when you took it off?’

  Saskia looked at Richard a moment, clearly reliving her horrifying experience and unable to put what she’d seen into words.

  ‘That woman,’ Paul said. ‘Julia. Whoever she is. Standing over the body. That’s what we all saw. Screaming her head off and holding a carving knife in her hand. It was covered in blood.’

  ‘And is that the same for all of you?’

  The witnesses all agreed that the first they’d known that anything was wrong was when they’d heard a woman’s scream. Then, at different times, they’d all taken their headphones and eye masks off and seen Julia Higgins standing over Aslan’s body, screaming and holding a bloody carving knife.

  ‘I see,’ Richard said, making a note of this fact. ‘But did any of you see Julia stab the victim?’

  The witnesses hadn’t.

  ‘So you all agree,’ Richard wanted to clarify. ‘The first you saw of Julia, she was standing over the dead body holding a knife, but none of you saw her stab the victim at any time?’ Richard asked.

  ‘That’s right,’ Paul said for them all.

  ‘I see,’ Richard said. ‘Then can I ask, are you all sure you were the only people in the room before you put on your eye masks and headphones?’

  ‘Of course,’ Ben said a touch dismissively. ‘There’s nowhere to hide in that box. I’m telling you, it was just the five of us in there when Aslan locked the door and we all sat down.’

  ‘Suggesting that it could only have been one of you five who killed him.’

  This got all of the witnesses’ attention.

  Paul was the first to recover.

  ‘Yeah, but that’s okay. That other woman. Julia—or whatever her name is. She’s already confessed to the murder. Hasn’t she?’

  Richard decided this was a question that did not need answering.

  ‘Then can you tell me,’ he continued, ‘how long were you all lying down and listening to the sounds of the deep before you started coming round?’

  ‘Ten minutes,’ Ben said. ‘Fifteen at the most.’

  ‘Really? That’s quite a precise figure.’

  ‘I checked my watch when we went into the room. It was a quarter to eight. I reckon we all drank tea for about ten minutes, so that means we lay down and put the headphones on some time before eight. And when we started coming round, I looked at my watch and it wasn’t much past 8.10am.’

  ‘So you were all wearing eye masks and listening to music on headphones the whole time you were lying down?’

  The witnesses all agreed, and Richard took a moment to look at them all again.

  Saskia had only spoken once, but Richard could see that she was meeting his gaze evenly, her hands folded neatly on her lap, her back straight. She looked worried—upset, even—but these were quite natural reactions; she didn’t look like she was hiding anything.

  As for Ann, she’d followed what she could of the conversation like someone watching a tennis match for the first time—and without any idea of what the rules were. If she was guilty of anything, Richard mused to himself, it wasn’t going to be of having a razor-sharp intellect.

  And then there was Paul. Richard still couldn’t quite work out how someone so drab—so ‘middle management’—could have such an apparent hold over his wife. After all, the way Richard saw it, Paul was just one toothbrush moustache away from being the spit of Roger Hargreaves’s Mr Fussy.

  Which left only Ben, and Richard continued to be quietly puzzled by him. Why was his manner so off-hand?

  This made Richard remember what he had to ask next.

  ‘Can I ask,’ he said, ‘who here is left-handed?’

  The witnesses looked at Richard, surprised, but they were all happy to tell him that they were all right-handed.

  Richard took a moment to consider the significance of this fact. After all, it already looked as though the wounds in the victim’s neck and back had to have been inflicted by someone who’d been wielding the knife right-handed. So how come the only person who’d confessed to the murder was the only person in the room who was left-handed?

  ‘Then one last question, if you don’t mind. Can any of you imagine why Julia—or anyone else for that matter—would have wanted to harm Aslan Kennedy?’

  The witnesses said that they had no idea. After all, as they put it, none of them had ever been to Saint-Marie before, they barely knew Aslan.

  ‘And I only arrived on the island last night,’ Saskia said. ‘The first time I even met Aslan was this morning.’

  ‘Really?’ Richard said.

  ‘That’s right,’ she said, but Richard noticed that Saskia had something else on her mind. Something was troubling her.

  ‘And?’ he asked.

  Saskia looked at Richard, unsure, and Richard decided that the dutiful secretary needed to be told what to do.

  ‘If you have any information that may have a bearing on the case, you’re obliged to mention it.’

  ‘No, of course,’ she said, suitably chastened. ‘And it may be nothing, but yesterday, after I arrived, I got a bit lost in the hotel and I found myself outside Aslan’s office. Although the door was closed, I could hear voices inside. Raised voices.’

  ‘What time was this?’

  ‘About 6pm I think,’ Saskia said.

  ‘And you’re sure it was Aslan’s office?’

  ‘Oh yes. But the thing is, the voice I heard belonged to a man, but I don’t think it was Aslan. Anyway, I heard this man say “You’re not going to get away with it!”‘

  ‘You did?’

  ‘That’s right. And he was angry. But I heard it quite distinctly. “You’re not going to get away with it!” he said. And a few moments later, the door opened and I saw Aslan flee. He looked seriously distressed.’

  ‘You didn’t see who he left behind in the office?’

  ‘No. The whole thing was so strange, I didn’t hang about to find out who the man was who’d been shouting at Aslan.’

  Richard considered what Saskia had said before turning to look at Ben and Paul.

  ‘I don’t suppose either of you were in Aslan’s office yesterday shouting at him at 6pm, were you?’

  Paul looked affronted.

  ‘Certainly not.’

  ‘So can you tell me? Where were you at 6pm yesterday?’

  Paul had to think for a moment before he answered. ‘I was down at the beach. Wasn’t I, darling?’

  Ann looked at her husband, uncomprehending. ‘You were?’

  ‘Of course I was!’ Paul said, exaspera
ted. ‘I was with you.’

  It took Ann a moment to register this fact. ‘Oh, of course!’ she eventually said. ‘That’s right. We were both down on the beach, weren’t we?’

  Richard found himself briefly wondering why it took Ann so long to remember that she and Paul had been on the beach together. Had she really forgotten?

  Richard turned to Ben and waited for his answer.

  ‘Alright,’ Ben said, ‘I was in my room. On my own.’

  ‘So you’re saying that no one can alibi you for about 6pm yesterday evening?’

  Ben looked at Richard with the first hint of irritation.

  ‘That’s right. I went to my room at about five for a bit of a lie down. I’d had too much sun. I then didn’t leave my room until seven when I came down for dinner. But I don’t need an alibi, I didn’t kill Aslan Kennedy.’

  ‘I see,’ Richard said, making a note of this fact.

  Richard decided he’d got enough from the witnesses for the moment. At the very least, he needed to corroborate what they’d so far said with Aslan’s wife, so he thanked the witnesses for their time, told them that an officer would be asking them to write out their formal statements later on, and then he went off to find Camille.

  She was upstairs comforting the grieving widow in her bedroom.

  Richard felt himself relax as soon as he entered Rianka and Aslan’s bedroom. The shuttered windows let in only the thinnest stripes of sunlight, the dark floorboards were polished and cool, and a ceiling fan ticked lazily overhead. There was even an aspidistra in a pot in the corner of the room, Richard noted with a sigh of quiet approval.

  Camille and Rianka looked up as he entered.

  ‘Mrs Kennedy?’ Richard asked.

  ‘Please … it’s Rianka.’

  Richard took a moment to consider Rianka. She was slender, her hands were elegant and long-fingered, her grey hair was fixed behind her head with two chopsticks, and while her clothes were colourful and ethnic, she herself appeared quiet and demure. Prim, even. Even so, it was easy to see the beautiful young woman who had turned into this beautiful sixty-something-year-old woman.

  A woman who was now experiencing the shock of sudden grief, her cheeks tear-stained, her eyes wet with pain.