On the way back to the police station with the notebook, Richard got Camille to stop off at a local general stores where he bought a children’s silvered helium balloon with the words ‘4 TODAY’ on its outside.
Richard knew how odd it must have looked, a middle-aged man in a suit buying a helium balloon, but he wasn’t saying. And he knew how intriguing this must have been for Camille—but seeing as she already knew that Richard was trying to tantalise her, she refused to mention the balloon.
Which suited Richard just fine.
So, Detective Inspector and Detective Sergeant drove all the way back to the police station in silence with a silver helium balloon bobbing on its string in between them both.
Camille lasted right up to the moment that they started walking up the steps to the station.
‘Alright!’ she finally said, utterly exasperated. ‘I have to know. Why have you got a kid’s balloon?’
Richard looked at the balloon, as though he was just as surprised as Camille to find that he was holding it. ‘What? This?’
‘Yes. The helium balloon.’
‘Well, that’s obvious, Camille. We’re going to use it to reveal the identity of our killer,’ Richard said, and continued on and into the station.
Once inside, Richard found Fidel with all of Aslan’s financial papers spread out.
‘Honestly, sir,’ Fidel said before he’d realised that his boss was holding a balloon. ‘I’m going through Aslan’s bank accounts for the hundredth time and he only gets that $1,000 a month from the business—most of which goes to an orphanage at the end of each month. And as for the hotel, I’ve never been able to identify any kind of financial wrongdoing there, either. It does well, but every cent seems to be accounted for if you ask me.’
‘Then what about Ben Jenkins’s service provider?’ Richard asked. ‘Have they been able to confirm if the email correspondence Ben showed us between him and Aslan was real?’
‘Sure have, Chief,’ Dwayne said from his desk. ‘And they confirmed that Ben sent five emails to Aslan Kennedy’s account three months ago. Just like he said.’
‘Which is interesting,’ Richard said as he went over to his desk and tied the balloon to the back of his chair. ‘Because that suggests that Ben’s telling us the truth. In which case, maybe Aslan’s back on the con again. But if he is, then how come we can’t find any evidence?’
Richard looked at his team, knowing how desperate they were to ask about the silver balloon that was now bobbing on its string just behind his right shoulder.
‘Um, Chief—’ Dwayne eventually asked.
‘He’s going to use it to reveal the killer,’ Camille said, trying to spare them Richard’s grandstanding.
‘And that’s where you’re wrong, Camille,’ Richard said, delighted to have a chance for some grandstanding. ‘Because the children’s balloon will reveal our killer’s identity, but we’re also going to need the toner cartridge from our photocopier and the office’s stun gun.’
Richard was delighted with the looks of surprise on his team’s face.
‘So go on, Dwayne. If you would, could you get the stun gun from the office safe? Camille, could you get the toner cartridge from the photocopier?’
Still no one moved. But that was because they were still trying to process the picture they now had of their uptight boss in a woollen suit asking for a stun gun while he stood next to a jolly helium balloon that said ‘4 TODAY’ on it.
‘Sorry? Am I invisible?’ Richard said, having more fun than he’d had in months. ‘Or perhaps you’ve all suddenly gone deaf? Camille: toner cartridge, please. Dwayne: the stun gun. Thank you!’
Putting on his evidence gloves again, Richard got out the reporter’s notebook from the cellophane evidence bag. It was still turned to the list of names that had been written out for the Sunrise Healing session on the day Aslan was killed. And, as Dominic had pointed out, there was no getting away from it: none of the names that were there had been in the Meditation Space when Aslan was killed. So what had happened that meant that this group of people hadn’t attended and an entirely different group had instead?
As Richard got the notebook nice and straight on his desk, he took a moment to marvel at how decisive he’d become since he’d finally managed to get rid of his lizard. There was no doubt about it in Richard’s mind. His lizard had been the albatross around his neck.
Camille managed to clunk the toner cartridge out of the photocopier and bring it over, and Richard decided it was time to explain what he was up to.
‘Right, then, Camille. It’s clear from the notebook here that Aslan wrote out a list for the Sunrise Healing the day before he died, all as normal. This list here is definitely his handwriting; all of the other pages in the notebook confirm that. But I think the killer was waiting nearby, and the moment that Aslan hung the notebook back up on its nail, the killer stepped in, turned the list over to a fresh page and wrote out a new list of names—the list of people who ended up going to the Sunrise Healing the next day.’
‘A list that’s now missing,’ Camille said.
‘Agreed,’ Richard said. ‘Which suggests that after the murder, the killer came back to the notebook and tore off the incriminating page with their handwriting on, and then turned the page back to reveal Aslan’s original list.’
Fidel interrupted, excited, ‘Then how about they went down to the cellar and burnt the incriminating page of names—in the killer’s handwriting—in the hotel furnace?’
‘My thinking exactly!’ Richard said. ‘Which is why you found a few remnants of burnt paper in the furnace.’
‘But sir,’ Fidel continued, ‘if the killer tore off the one incriminating page with their handwriting on, why did they then have to remove the rest of the notebook?’
‘Well, I’d say that was obvious, Fidel. The page that Aslan wrote on, as we can see here’—Richard indicated the notebook on his desk—’quite clearly shows him choosing a completely different set of guests for that day. But I bet the next page still carries the indentations from the killer’s list of names that was on the page after it. And I want to reveal those indentations.’
‘Using a helium balloon,’ Dwayne said, unable to keep a sceptical tone out of his voice as he entered the room holding a small silver flight-case, ‘some photocopier toner and a stun gun.’
Richard smiled. ‘Indeed.’
He then looked at his team and knew it was time to explain.
‘So my theory is that the killer flipped over to a fresh page to write the incriminating list of names out—and, in doing so, the pen he or she was writing with would have made indentations on the page underneath Aslan’s original list.’
‘That makes sense,’ Dwayne said, ‘but it was more the balloon I wanted to know about.’
‘All things come to those who wait,’ Richard said. ‘First, can you get out the stun gun?’
Dwayne opened the latches on the flight-case and lifted the lid, revealing a grey foam interior that housed a stun gun. The weapon itself was like something out of a sci-fi movie: a grey plastic box about the size of a chunky mobile phone with two metal prongs sticking out of it. It looked both humdrum and entirely scary. Especially when Dwayne turned it on and electricity arced between the two prongs with a nasty crackling sound.
‘This thing is evil,’ Dwayne said, summing up the feelings of them all.
‘Have you ever had recourse to use it?’ Richard asked.
‘No way. This is not how we roll on Saint-Marie.’
Richard looked at Dwayne and knew it was true. There was no way any of his team would ever use such an instrument on another human being.
‘Right,’ Richard said. ‘So let’s find out who wrote out the missing list.’
Richard pulled his penknife from his pocket, carefully opened it, turned, and stabbed the balloon with it. There was a wet pop as the blade went in, and then Richard held the silvered balloon in his hand as it deflated.
‘Have any of you ever wonder
ed what they make these helium balloons out of?’
Richard looked at his team, but they had the good sense to stay quiet.
‘Because they’re not rubber like a normal balloon. And although it looks like silver foil, it isn’t metal, either, is it?’ Again a dramatic pause that his team were canny enough not to prolong by asking any questions. ‘Well, silver balloons like this are made out of a substance called Mylar, which is a metallised polythene. And as such it’s perfect—when used alongside a stun gun and some photocopier toner—for creating an electrostatic detection device, or EDD for short.’
Fishing out a pair of scissors from his desk tidy, Richard started to cut a square from the balloon that was quite a bit larger than the reporter’s notebook.
‘And, as I’m sure you all know, electrostatic detection devices are perfect for picking up even the faintest of indentations in paper. So, if the killer flipped over to a fresh page to write out a different list of names—as I’m sure must have happened—then whatever pen he or she used will have left indentations on the page underneath.’
Richard indicated the blank page following the list of names that Aslan had written out and briefly paused for his team to ask any follow-up questions. A little disappointed that there weren’t any, he continued, ‘So what you do is you place a square of Mylar polythene over the paper that you think has got indentations on it … just so.’ Richard placed the square of silver over the blank page. ‘You then turn the stun gun on.’ Richard picked up the stun gun and pressed the trigger mechanism, electricity starting to arc between the two metal nodes. ‘You then waft the stun gun over the Mylar, making sure the charge goes down into it.’
Richard put the nodes up close to the silvered square, at which point the electricity stopped arcing in between the nodes and started to stab down into the plastic.
As Richard moved the miniature lightning back and forth across the silver square of child’s balloon, he carried on explaining. ‘The objective is to produce an evenly distributed electrostatic charge across the surface of the Mylar. Because once the Mylar’s been suitably charged, the most incredible thing happens … yes, that should be enough.’
Richard turned the stun gun off and carefully placed it to one side.
There was no visible difference to the silvered square of Mylar.
‘Sir,’ Fidel asked, ‘what happens?’
‘Everything, Fidel, because the surface of the Mylar is now differentially charged depending upon whether or not an indentation was underneath it or not,’ Richard said, really selling the magic of the process.
His team were nonplussed, as he knew they’d be.
‘Which is why we need the photocopier toner.’
Richard got the ancient black toner caddy and shook it. As was usual, a fine dusting of black toner powder fell out of it. Richard had been trying to get the caddy replaced for months, but now he was glad that it was so decrepit.
‘Watch this,’ he said as he held the toner cartridge a foot or so above the clear silver square. ‘Because every grain of toner powder is negatively charged. And the principle of how a photocopier gets its ink to stick to paper is the same that we’re now going to use on the Mylar because—remember—it’s now positively charged where there aren’t any indentations underneath and negatively charged where there are.’
Richard started to shake the toner cartridge from side to side and toner powder began to waft down onto the silver square of Mylar. And, to his team’s amazement, the black powder seemed to form into certain curls and swirls on the silver—and within ten seconds it was possible to see that the inky powder had in fact now ‘stuck’ to the silver in such a way that words could be seen. The team had to squint a bit to make out what was written, but there was no doubt about it, the toner had revealed the indentations from the missing page that had been removed and destroyed.
The ink on the silver square read:
You are invited to the Sunrise Healing!
Julia Higgins
Saskia Filbee
Paul Sellars
Ann Sellars
Ben Jenkins
7am, Morning swim and stretching on the beach
8am, Sunrise Healing in the Meditation Space
Attendance is free and highly recommended!
Aslan
This was a facsimile of the incriminating page, and it was obviously not Aslan’s handwriting, so that begged the question: whose handwriting was it?
Richard realised first.
‘Wait!’ he said to his team as he went over to Camille’s desk and started looking for the witness statements among the mess of files.
‘What are you looking for?’ she asked.
‘Hold on,’ he said, having difficulty keeping his irritation in check. But now was not the time to lecture Camille on her ‘clear desk’ policy, and instead he grabbed up the witness statement he was looking for.
He returned to his desk with the page of handwriting and put it down next to the silver square so they could compare the two samples.
And now it was time for Richard’s team to be stunned.
They were looking at Julia Higgins’s witness statement—and the incriminating list of names was the exact same handwriting.
It had been Julia who’d replaced Aslan’s list with a new set of names.
‘I don’t believe it,’ Richard said, amazed.
Had Julia been playing him from the start? After all, even Paul Sellars had worked out that Julia was their most likely killer. She’d been at The Retreat the longest time: six months. Who else of the suspects had a better opportunity to discover Aslan’s real identity and then to get him to invite the other Ponzi victims out to The Retreat at the same time?
But how did she work it out?
With a sudden flash of understanding, Richard remembered that Julia’s job at The Retreat was to help for a few hours a day in the office. What if she’d been at Aslan’s computer when Ben Jenkins’s email came in? It clearly called Aslan ‘David’ and referred to Brixton Prison. It would have been entirely natural for Julia to ask Aslan what on earth the email meant, and either Aslan told her the truth there and then or she was able to work out the truth on her own later on.
Richard continued to try and step through the logic of what Julia would have done next, because—now she knew that Aslan was in fact the David Kennedy who’d caused her father’s death—she must have wondered how on earth she ended up being offered a free holiday in the Caribbean by the man responsible.
She’d have asked Aslan, wouldn’t she? And he’d have had to explain that the ‘You Have Won a Prize’ competitions were his way of giving something back to those he’d stolen from in the past. God knows how Julia took this news, but she obviously didn’t let her real feelings show, because Aslan continued to employ her at The Retreat.
Richard banged the palm of his hand down on his desk at his own stupidity. He’d never really considered what it must have been like growing up without a dad because he’d committed suicide. The shame Julia and her mum must have felt. And, as Julia had been forced to admit—and the Met Police files confirmed—Julia’s dad had lost everything including his house before he took his own life. So not only had Aslan taken Julia’s dad from her, he’d also taken all of his money and the house they lived in.
And now she’d discovered she was working for the man who’d destroyed her family?
It was clear that Julia had made a simple decision.
Aslan had to die.
And with that realisation, Richard finally understood why the murder had to be carried out in front of a load of potential witnesses.
After all, if Aslan had been still living in the UK, Julia would have been able to make it look as though she was miles away at the time of the murder. But on a small island like Saint-Marie, even if she made it look as though she’d been on the other side of the island when Aslan was killed, the fact that she had a motive at all would be suspicion enough. And, seeing as she was the killer, the police would no do
ubt be able to break her alibi.
So, if you’re the only person on a tropical island with a motive to kill someone, what’s the best way of using this fact to your advantage? Richard realised a daring and—though he had to admit it to himself—quite brilliant plan was born.
Julia decided that she would try and hide herself in plain view.
Because there’s no way a rational killer would lock herself inside a room with the victim, that’s precisely what she’d do. And because no killer would ever let herself be found standing over the corpse holding the murder weapon, that’s also what she’d do. But she’d stage the scene so everything would make it look like she was being just as manipulated by a shadowy killer in the background as everyone else.
Thinking with hot shame back to his night-time walk with Julia, Richard now realised that she’d orchestrated the whole tantalising encounter so she could ask him if she could go back to the UK. And knowing how seductive Julia had been, Richard knew that if she had decided to work her charms on Aslan, she’d have been able to convince him that it was okay to start inviting other Ponzi victims out to the Caribbean again, and—not only that—maybe he should invite a few at a time, rather than the usual one?
So, that’s how Paul, Ann and Saskia all ended up at The Retreat at the same time. Julia got Aslan to invite them out.
Then what about Ben Jenkins, Richard found himself thinking. How did he get there? Well, what was it Ben had told them? He’d booked his holiday at The Retreat entirely normally. Well, Julia already knew all about Ben from the email she’d intercepted and which had started her off on her journey of discovery. What’s more, she knew from the email that Ben had known Aslan when he’d been in Brixton Prison. If what Julia wanted to do was fill a room full of people all of whom had nefarious connections with Aslan’s past, what better way than to use Ben’s holiday at The Retreat as the anchor that she’d tie the rest of her plans to?
So, with Ben’s dates at The Retreat fixed, Julia got Aslan to invite Paul and Ann Sellars and Saskia all out for the same time.
A Meditation on Murder Page 23