A Meditation on Murder

by Robert Thorogood

  Richard remembered what the witnesses had said earlier. ‘Did you by any chance see Ann Sellars when you were down there?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Seeing as you were on the beach. Did you see Ann Sellars at all?’

  Dominic thought for a moment before answering. ‘I don’t think so.’

  Richard considered this. After all, Ann had said she’d been down at the beach on her own the whole morning. Was it likely that Dominic wouldn’t have seen her?

  Richard continued, ‘Then can you tell me what you were doing on the beach this morning?’

  ‘There’d been a storm out at sea a few days ago. Debris has been washing up. So I spent a couple of hours this morning clearing seaweed and driftwood from the shoreline.’

  ‘And you didn’t slip away—even for a few minutes—at any time?’

  ‘No. You just ask the guests. I was there the whole time and it was only when I was coming back from the beach that I bumped into you lot and took you to Julia’s room.’

  ‘How convenient,’ Richard said.

  ‘What is this? I don’t need an alibi. I’m nothing to do with this.’

  ‘I’m not so sure about that,’ Fidel said, turning to Richard. ‘Because, sir, I’ve already found a match.’

  Richard went over to Fidel’s desk where he’d been matching the exclusion prints Dominic had just given against the prints Fidel had been able to lift from the medicine bottle they’d found in the bin in Julia’s bathroom.

  ‘Wait, what’s that doing there?’ a horrified Dominic said, looking at the little brown medicine bottle in its evidence bag on Fidel’s desk.

  ‘Why don’t you tell us?’ Richard asked politely.

  Dominic started to bluster. ‘But that’s what I’m saying. That looks like one of my medicine bottles. You know, from my lab at home. If you’re saying my prints are on that …?’ Dominic trailed off as he realised the implications of what he was saying. ‘Where did you find that bottle?’ he eventually said.

  ‘In the bathroom of Julia’s room.’

  ‘But that’s not possible. I’ve not been in her room in ages. You know, we’re not going out with each other any more.’

  ‘Now it’s funny you’d bring that up,’ Richard said. ‘Remind me. How did you feel when Julia told you it was over between you both?’

  Dominic looked at Richard and was briefly speechless.

  ‘It’s a fair question,’ Camille said. ‘Seeing as your prints are on the bottle that contained the poison that almost certainly killed your ex-girlfriend.’

  ‘I told you at the time,’ Dominic said, but Richard noticed how nervous Dominic was looking. ‘I was fine. It happens.’

  ‘Really?’ Richard asked.

  ‘Alright. Then if you must know, I was pretty upset. Okay? But it’s not the end of the world, there are other fish in the sea. And do you really think that if I killed my ex-girlfriend, I’d leave a bottle covered in my fingerprints at the murder scene?’ As Dominic said this, he got increasingly agitated. ‘In fact, if you ask me, it’s obvious what’s happened. That bottle’s what was stolen in the burglary I told you about. And now it’s being used to set me up as Julia’s killer. Do I have to do all your work for you? You know, you’re pathetic.’

  Dominic turned and started to leave, although he had to pause as Dwayne took half a step away from his desk to block his exit.

  ‘You want to stop me from leaving,’ he said to Dwayne, ‘then you’ll have to arrest me.’

  Richard knew that there was a lot of sense to what Dominic was saying. No one killing their ex-girlfriend would leave a bottle of poison covered in their fingerprints at the scene of the crime. But here it was again, a piece of incriminating evidence that pointed very specifically at one person—just as Julia had confessed to the murder, even though Richard was now sure that she hadn’t done it.

  Richard sighed to himself. Once again, he felt as though he was looking at jigsaw puzzle pieces that came from completely different jigsaw puzzles.

  Richard nodded once for Dwayne—he stepped aside—and Dominic left, shaking his head at the police’s incompetence.

  No one spoke for a few moments, but then Richard went over to the board, saying as he went, ‘Come on! Julia was murdered, I’m sure of it! Murdered by the same person who killed Aslan. We must have found some evidence—either in Julia’s room—or on her body—that suggested it was murder!’

  ‘I’m sorry, sir,’ Fidel said. ‘Not yet. Maybe the autopsy will pick something up.’

  Richard gritted his teeth in frustration, picked up a board marker and crossed out the details they’d so far collected on Julia Higgins.

  When he’d done that, he took a moment to steady himself, and then he turned back to his team. ‘Julia didn’t kill Aslan Kennedy. Nor did she commit suicide. And Dominic’s right. If he killed Julia, he wouldn’t leave a medicine bottle with his fingerprints on it at the scene.’

  ‘Unless it was a double bluff, sir,’ Fidel offered.

  ‘Agreed, Fidel,’ Richard said, ‘but that’s some double bluff and I don’t think Dominic’s capable of such bravery. No, this case has always been about the people who were in the Meditation Space with Aslan when he was killed. And with Julia now dead, that leaves us with only four possible killers: Saskia Filbee, Ben Jenkins, Paul Sellars or Ann Sellars. So which one of that lot’s our double murderer?’

  The Murder of Aslan

  Five guests go for a swim

  Paul hands out robes

  Aslan prepares the tea

  5 guests + Aslan go into Meditation

  Space

  Aslan locks it down from inside

  Someone laces tea with GHB or

  Xyrax—a sedative

  Drink tea—all cups turned over

  10-15 minute window for murder,

  (8.00-8.10/8.15)

  Right-handed killer! Investigation / Leads

  WHY KILLED IN PAPER HOUSE? 3 x drawing pins in the Meditation Space. Used to pin the murder weapon to a pillar. No prints on any of them Another drawing pin in the cellar

  Who was in Aslan’s office the night before @6pm shouting ‘You’re not going to get away with it’?

  The notebook reappeared before

  Julia’s body was found. Why?

  What’s the burnt paper in the furnace?

  The Murder of Julia Higgins

  She wrote out the names for the Sunrise Healing in the notebook Took overdose / murdered BUT no suicide note

  Outside the Meditation Space

  Rianka Kennedy

  Wife

  Knew Aslan when he was David—but

  left Aslan when he was convicted

  Took Aslan back 15 yrs ago when he

  came to the island Dominic De Vere

  Ex-hypnotherapist. Now handyman

  Sacked by Aslan

  Argued with Aslan

  Caught returning to Scene of Crime

  Has drugs lab in his house—could

  have manufactured GHB

  His bottle / fingerprints found at murder scene of Julia

  Inside the Meditation Space

  Aslan Kennedy

  Victim. Everyone says he’s nice

  Real name is David Kennedy

  Ex-conman—ran art-lease Ponzi scheme, stole £2m

  Went to prison 20 years ago, served 5 yrs

  STILL A CROOK? Admitted to Ben he was still on the con … but is that true?

  Julia Higgins

  Worked at the Retreat last 6 months

  Confessed to murder—but drugs in

  blood—and lack of real motive—and

  LEFT-HANDED

  Ann Sellars

  Housewife

  Married to Paul

  Arrived on island 7 days before

  murder

  Lost £20k in Ponzi scheme

  Her fingerprints are on the murder weapon—but she dried knife the night before

  Had her dreams as a singer ruined when she lost £20k


  Clearly hates her husband, Paul

  Says she didn’t recognise Aslan / David

  Paul Sellars

  Arrived on island 7 days before murder

  Handed out the white robes

  Pharmacist—who stole Xyrax from work

  KNEW ASLAN’S REAL IDENTITY

  Wife Ann lost money in Ponzi scheme

  Hates his wife, Ann

  Wife NO LONGER alibis him for argument at 6pm

  Saskia Filbee

  Single, 45 yrs old

  Here on her own. Arrived night before

  Heard argument in office night

  before—at about 6pm—a man, but

  couldn’t identify him

  Lied that she’d lost £50k in Ponzi

  scheme—she lost £500,000

  Says she didn’t recognise Aslan /

  David, but she was his lover …! Maybe she did

  Ben Jenkins

  Arrived on island 4 days before murder

  Property Developer. Portugal

  Served 3 yrs for Wounding With

  Intent and was Aslan / David’s cellmate in 1997 for 1 year

  Lied that he didn’t know him—had been in email contact—3 months before murder

  No alibi for time of argument at 6pm

  ‘You know,’ Camille said, ‘if Julia was murdered, it was to make it look like she’d committed suicide because of the guilt she was feeling since killing Aslan Kennedy.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Richard said.

  ‘But we still don’t know why Aslan was killed, do we? I mean, not really.’

  Dwayne said, ‘It’s got to be connected to his past. From when he was running his Ponzi scheme. Seeing as everyone in the room with him when he was killed was connected to his past.’

  Richard could see the logic of this. After all, Aslan had stolen millions of pounds twenty years ago. But how did a crime that long ago connect with Ben’s statement that Aslan had admitted that he was back on the con again just before he was killed? Had Aslan been conning one of the Ponzi victims? Or maybe, the con involved Aslan being in cahoots with one of the Ponzi victims—who then turned the tables on him by killing him?

  ‘Fidel,’ Richard said, ‘how are you getting on with Aslan’s bank statements?’

  Fidel indicated the mess of paperwork on his table. ‘Still looking, sir. But honestly, I can’t find anything incriminating at all. Aslan didn’t ever seem to spend money.’

  ‘Maybe that’s because he had a different source of income elsewhere,’ Dwayne offered.

  Richard turned back to the board and kept on thinking. Was Aslan on the con—even though they could find no evidence that proved this? And if he were, how did it tie up with Paul, Ann, Saskia or Ben? Or was Ben lying to them? In which case, why?

  Was Ben perhaps the killer trying to throw them off the scent? But why would Ben want Aslan dead? And why would he then need to kill Julia?

  As the afternoon wore on, Richard found his mind wandering towards the evening he was about to spend on his own. Somehow, now he had to face his first night without Harry for company, he wondered if maybe he’d acted rashly. Of course he still resented how Harry would walk around the shack as though he owned the place—but there was no denying that he was at least someone else in the shack that Richard could interact with, even if that interaction was furious frustration.

  In a post-Harry world, Richard knew he’d now be entirely alone.

  ‘Sir,’ Fidel said from his desk, breaking Richard’s reverie.

  Richard looked over at his subordinate’s desk and saw Fidel staring in puzzlement at his screen.

  ‘What is it?’ Richard asked.

  ‘Well, it’s the labs in Guadeloupe. They’ve finished analysing the paper we sent them.’

  It took Richard a moment to remember that they’d sent the scraps of burnt paper Fidel had found in the hotel’s furnace to the labs for analysis.

  ‘Better late than never, I suppose,’ he said.

  Fidel was still looking at his monitor; and still frowning.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Camille asked, noticing Fidel’s indecision.

  Fidel looked up from his monitor. ‘The report here says they used all of the techniques available to them, but they were unable to reveal any handwriting under the burns.’

  ‘They weren’t?’ Richard asked.

  ‘In fact, according to the report here, there was no writing of any sort—or printed ink—or anything at all on the scraps of paper before they were burnt. They were just clear white paper.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Camille asked.

  ‘Wait!’ Richard said, suddenly holding up his finger for silence.

  Dwayne, Fidel and Camille shared a sharp glance. They knew full well that when Richard suddenly froze like this it could mean he was beginning to piece the case together.

  Richard went over to the whiteboard, his mind a whirr.

  ‘What gsm do the labs say the paper was?’

  ‘Sorry, sir?’ Fidel replied.

  ‘Gsm. Grams per square metre. It’s how you measure paper thickness. What’s the gsm of the scraps of paper they tested? Come on, it’s important!’

  ‘Hold on, sir,’ Fidel said in a panic, turning back to his monitor and scrolling through the document on his screen with his mouse.

  Dwayne looked at Camille, baffled, but they both knew to keep their mouths shut.

  Fidel found the entry among all of the technical data that had been gathered at the bottom of the report.

  ‘It says here, sir, it’s 225 gsm.’

  ‘Ha!’ Richard clapped his hands together and spun back to the board, calling back to his team as he studied everything that was written there. ‘And normal writing paper is only 80 gsm. And our reporter’s notebook was probably less, it’s so lightweight. Possibly as low as 70 gsm.’

  ‘Is this important?’ Dwayne asked.

  ‘Sure is,’ Richard replied, ‘because it means that the paper that was burnt in the furnace under the house didn’t come from the notebook Julia wrote in. And that means …?’

  As Richard trailed off, Camille, Fidel and Dwayne all looked at each other, no more enlightened. What did it matter that the paper they sent off for analysis didn’t come from the reporter’s notebook? In what way was that important?

  ‘Good grief,’ Richard said almost to himself before turning around and looking at his team as though he’d finally solved a crossword clue that had been set weeks ago.

  And then something happened that almost never happened on the island of Saint-Marie.

  Richard Poole smiled. He actually smiled.

  Fidel said, ‘Sir, you can’t have worked it out?’

  ‘On the contrary,’ Richard said, ‘because I think that’s exactly what I’ve done.’

  ‘You know who killed Aslan Kennedy?’ Fidel asked.

  ‘I do. And Julia Higgins.’

  ‘But is it the same person, Chief?’ Dwayne asked.

  ‘Oh yes,’ Richard replied.

  ‘It wasn’t Dominic, was it?’ Fidel blurted, hopefully.

  ‘Good heavens no, Fidel. He wasn’t inside the Meditation Space when Aslan was killed, he can’t be our killer.’

  ‘So you’re saying that Aslan was killed by one of the people who was locked inside the room with him?’ Fidel asked.

  Richard looked at his team as though they were all a bit slow.

  ‘Of course,’ Richard said. ‘Only one of the people who was inside the Meditation Space with Aslan Kennedy when he locked it down could ever have been his killer.’

  ‘Then who was it?’ Camille asked, unable to resist asking any longer.

  Richard looked at his partner and couldn’t help himself.

  He waggled his eyebrows.

  ‘I’ll tell you in a minute,’ he said. ‘But first we’ve got a con to prove.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  Richard had asked everyone to join him in the Meditation Space, but as he stood sweating in his suit and tie, he wished he hadn’t.
It really was very hot. But he had a theory to prove, and that meant that he had no choice over where he did this.

  It didn’t help that the room was made all the more sweltering with the presence of eight other people. There was Camille and Dwayne, of course—Fidel was currently elsewhere running an errand for Richard—but there were also all the other interested parties: Saskia Filbee, Paul and Ann Sellars, Ben Jenkins, Rianka Kennedy, and—last of all—Dominic De Vere.

  One of these six people killed Aslan Kennedy and then killed Julia Higgins, and Richard was about to reveal their identity.

  ‘Do you really know who the killer is?’ Dominic asked, unable to hide his amazement.

  ‘Oh yes, Dominic,’ Richard said, and smiled for Dominic’s benefit. ‘But let’s first remind ourselves of what we’re dealing with here.

  ‘Because we’ve got Rianka and Aslan running a spa hotel in the Caribbean. It’s popular. They do well. And we know that Aslan in particular has found a degree of peace embracing the more spiritual side of life. Or is that true? After all, as we all now know, Aslan Kennedy was once David Kennedy, a dangerous conman who was given a seven year sentence for stealing two million pounds in an art-lease Ponzi scheme. And we know his past as a conman is an important part of this case because, when he was killed, four people who he’d previously stolen from just happened to be in the same room as him, and the fifth person had once been his ex-cellmate.

  ‘But why did he have to die? That’s the question. Or to put it another way: can a leopard change its spots? Seeing as Aslan was such a crook in the past, could we really believe that he was now on the straight and narrow? When Ben Jenkins told us that Aslan confessed to him that he was still on the con, it chimed with what I suppose we’d always expected to hear. Aslan was a crook in the past. He was still a crook. But here’s the interesting thing. I’ve had one of my best officers examine Aslan’s bank statements and records. Aslan took a small salary from the business, he barely spent even that—and what was left over at the end of every month he gave away to charity. And we already know he lived at The Retreat, didn’t go on expensive holidays or buy expensive cars. Or even artwork or fine wine. If he was on the con again, it was hard to see how he was in any way benefiting from it.

  ‘So I started thinking. We only had Ben’s word that Aslan was on the con again. As far as everyone else could tell us—from Aslan’s wife to the Commissioner of Police—no one had a bad word to say about Aslan. Apart from you, Dominic,’ Richard said this to Dominic with a smile. ‘And I look forward to coming to you in a minute.’