Deadly Deceit: Jess Turner in the Caribbean (Diplomatic Crime Book 2)

by Jean Harrod

  Carrie smiled in recognition, then turned to her little charges. “Don’t move!” she shouted at them.

  They stood to attention while Carrie bent down to talk through the window. “Are you finding your way around okay, Jess?”

  “I’m trying to get my bearings.” Jess waved at the children, and they giggled shyly. The boys were all dressed in t-shirts and shorts, the girls had their curly black hair braided with ribbons and wore pinafore dresses with t-shirts underneath. To a child they wore tiny white plimsolls and ankle socks.

  Carrie’s face clouded. “Have you heard about Mrs Pearson?” she whispered, so the children couldn’t hear.

  “Yes. Awful, isn’t it?”

  “It’s hard to believe that could happen here. It’s... frightening.”

  Jess could see the shock on Carrie’s face. “Did you know Mrs Pearson?” she asked.

  “Yes, but I know her daughter better. I look after her son while she works.” Carrie hesitated. “Was it a burglary gone wrong, do you know? She was always walking around decked out in gold jewellery.”

  “I don’t think the police know yet.” Jess was thinking the murder seemed too brutal for a burglary gone wrong, but she didn’t want to say that and frighten Carrie. She remembered only too well Carrie’s fear at last night’s dinner about voodoo chanting and fires on the beach near her home. For that reason, she didn’t mention anything about Benji’s collar turning up with those nails in it either.

  Carrie shivered. “Better make sure all the doors and windows are locked tonight, just in case.”

  One of the toddlers started getting restless, and pushed another towards the road. “Stay on the pavement!” Carrie barked at them.

  They immediately stood still again.

  Jess smiled. “I’d better let you go.”

  “Okay, Jess. See you soon.” Carrie turned, and lined the children up again before leading them back to the kindergarten.

  Carrie certainly had a firm hand with those children, yet she’d seemed so gentle at dinner. Jess wondered what a teacher like Carrie got out of running a kindergarten. She’d be more like a nanny with such young children, and that couldn’t be very challenging. Or was it? Maybe getting them very young had its rewards? Who was it said, give me a child until they’re seven, and I’ll give you the man? She seemed to remember it was some kind of Jesuit saying.

  There was no traffic at the roundabout, and she drove straight over. In Washington, it would be the start of the rush hour at this time, and the roads clogged with people. Not here though.

  Jess followed Sally’s directions, and turned left at the next crossroads. Soon, she spotted a Union Jack flying on a flagpole in the front garden of a house; the first in a little residential complex of about ten houses. It had to be the Chief Justice’s house with that flag, she thought. Dominic was doing his bit to raise the British presence.

  The metal gates to the property stood wide open. No sign of any security here either, she noticed, as she swung through. Two cars were parked in the driveway. A smart, silver Jeep, which looked new, alongside a bright red Mini. Did Rebekah have company?

  The house was a modern, two-storey home, probably built within the last 10 or 15 years, and nothing like the Governor’s old Residence. Painted a pastel pink, with white plantation shutters at the windows, it looked like something out of a Florida lifestyle magazine. Palm trees lined the property’s perimeter, the grass on the front lawn was mown short and the shrubs neatly clipped. Rebekah’s influence, no doubt.

  Jess parked the car and walked towards the front door. A black cat, with white paws, sprang out of nowhere onto the porch, barring her way. Arching its back, it hissed at her in a show of bravado, then bolted into the bushes. Another friendly local, she thought.

  The front door was wide open. Behind it, a metal screen door was closed to keep flies and mozzies out. She couldn’t see a bell and called out.

  “Hello? Rebekah? It’s Jess.” Silence.

  “Rebekah? Are you there?” Still silence.

  Jess tried the screen door handle, and it clicked open. She pushed it and stepped onto the doormat inside. “Rebekah?” she called again. There was still no reply.

  Someone had to be here with the front door wide open, and the cars parked in the drive, she thought, as she walked down the hallway. Where was Rebekah? That voodoo warning was making Jess anxious. Whoever had left Benji’s collar on the patio wanted to frighten Rebekah, or they wouldn’t have waited for the Chief Justice to leave the island before putting it there.

  Walking through the first door she came to, Jess found herself in a bright, airy sitting room. Two sets of chintz sofas and armchairs were carefully arranged at either end, alongside antique tables and lamps. An impressive grandfather clock stood against the far wall. Its loud ticking was the only noise in the house.

  Still no Rebekah, though.

  Jess went over to the window and looked out onto the back garden.

  Relief flooded through her when she saw Rebekah out there, although she wasn’t alone. A man stood facing her, holding her by the shoulders to keep her still while he talked to her. Who was he? Jess couldn’t see his face. But when he tenderly pushed a stray lock of hair off Rebekah’s face, and she laid her forehead on his chest, Jess realised what was going on. She felt uncomfortable watching them, but she didn’t move.

  Suddenly Rebekah tried to pull away, but the man wrapped both arms around her and kissed her passionately. At first Rebekah returned his kiss. Then she pulled out of the embrace, and pushed him lightly away.

  He went to grab her again, but she turned and strode back to the house.

  Embarrassed, Jess quickly retraced her steps, and slipped out the front door as if she were just arriving.

  Rebekah appeared in the hallway, looking hot and flustered. She flinched when she saw Jess, then said: “I’m so glad to see you.” She opened the fly screen door. “Please come in.”

  Jess followed her down the hallway and into the sitting room.

  “Can I get you some tea, or anything?” Rebekah asked, politely.

  “No thanks, I’m fine.” Jess sat down on the sofa. “I came as soon as I could. Sally told me what happened.”

  Rebekah’s eyes welled up, but she held it together.

  “Have you got Benji’s collar?” Jess asked.

  Rebekah went over to the sideboard. Her hands were shaking when she came back with it.

  The collar was a thick, red leather strap, with a silver buckle to adjust the size. Three nails had been punched through the leather, at what looked like an equal distance, their pointed ends hanging clearly out the other side.

  The door creaked open, and they both turned.

  Now Jess saw the man’s face, she immediately knew who he was. She stood up and held out her hand. “You must be Charles.”

  “And you must be Jess.” He shook her hand in a perfunctory way, without smiling. “You’ve worked out that Brad and I are not only brothers, we’re twins,” he said.

  She could see that. The same bright blue eyes, except Charles had short, brown hair rather than Brad’s sun-bleached locks and ponytail. Charles also looked like he was carrying plenty of New York business lunches around his midriff.

  “Sorry about missing your dinner last night,” he said, casually, as if he wasn’t sorry at all.

  She didn’t blame him for missing it, but the fact that he offered no explanation for his absence irritated her. Although he struck her as the kind of man who didn’t much care what anyone thought of him. Unlike his brother, Charles seemed to have no charm about him. His poker face gave the impression he didn’t want to show anything of himself or his feelings.

  Still, now Jess knew why Rebekah was so worried about Charles not turning up for dinner last night. They were probably having an affair, and she’d expected him to be there. So what did Charles have to do last night that was more important, Jess wondered?

  Watching them both, Jess could understand their mutual attraction. Charles
oozed the arrogance of a successful banker. He was probably loaded too, which might appeal to someone like Rebekah. Did the Chief Justice know about his wife and Charles, she wondered? Would he have gone off to his London law conference if he had?

  “It’s voodoo,” Rebekah said, turning back to the dog collar.

  Jess nodded. “Sally explained about coffin nails.”

  “It’s meant for me.” Rebekah’s hands were still shaking. “It’s a curse. It means I’m going to die the same way as Benji.”

  “Oh come on, Rebekah,” Charles said. “You don’t know that Benji’s dead.”

  “Yes, I do,” she fired back. “I can feel it.”

  “Even if that were true,” Charles said, gently, “it doesn’t mean that someone deliberately killed him. Maybe he was run over by accident? Or perhaps he went for a swim and drowned. You know he loves going in the sea.”

  Rebekah shook her head. “I’ve driven all over this island looking for his body along the roadside. He wasn’t run over by a car. And he would never go into the sea unless I gave him permission.” She paused. “That’s the way I trained him. Not to go into the sea unless I told him he could.”

  Jess felt sorry for Rebekah, who was deeply upset about her dog. “Have you told the police?” she asked.

  “Tell them what exactly?” Charles intervened.

  “That Benji’s missing, and that his collar has turned up with three nails in it. I’m sure they’ll understand the voodoo implication.”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary?” Charles answered.

  Not only did his authoritarian tone grate on Jess, he was clearly averse to going to the police. Why, she wondered? “Hasn’t Benji been missing for a while?” she asked.

  Rebekah nodded. “Two weeks to this day.” A tear slipped down her cheek. “Every morning he used to go out to roam around for a couple of hours. That morning he went out as usual and never came back.”

  “Well, then I think it’s sensible to tell the police,” Jess said. “Not least because someone’s trying to frighten you with these coffin nails. And that should be reported.” She looked at Rebekah. “Can you think of any reason why anyone would want to do that?”

  Rebekah glanced at Charles.

  He shook his head.

  Jess asked: “Would you like me to talk to the police, Rebekah?”

  “No, I’ll phone them, he’s my dog.”

  Charles sighed.

  “Good.” Jess fished her new mobile out of her bag and looked at the number Sally had stuck on the back with some tape. “Here’s my mobile number.” She wrote it down on her note pad, ripped the piece of paper out, and handed it to Rebekah. “Call me if you need to.”

  Rebekah took it. “Thanks, Jess.”

  “No trouble.” Jess looked at her watch. “Now, I’m sorry, but I have to get back to the office.”

  “Of course.” Rebekah gave her a small smile.

  “Are you going to be staying in the house alone?” Jess asked.

  “No need to worry on that score,” Charles intervened. “I’ll make sure she’s all right.”

  Yes, I’m sure you will, Jess thought, especially with the Chief Justice away. She looked over at Rebekah, who nodded in agreement.

  As Jess looked at Charles again, she found him impossible to read behind that stony facade. If he was as passionate about Rebekah as he’d appeared to be in the garden earlier, wouldn’t he call the police and do everything he could to help and protect her? It didn’t make sense, especially after Mrs Pearson’s brutal murder.

  She gave him a curt nod and walked back to her car.

  *

  Driving along on the other side of Cockburn Town, Jess checked her watch. 5pm. She ought to phone Simon back in case he was leaving the office early for a function. She pulled into the next lay by, opposite the main beach, and dialled his direct office line.

  He answered. “Ah, there you are. Thought you’d forgotten about me.”

  “Sorry, Simon, communications are terrible down here. I’ve just got a new mobile that actually works.”

  “I phoned hours ago. Spoke to your PA, Sally.”

  The pique in his voice surprised her. “Yes, she told me, but I’ve been out around town most of the day.”

  “I should know by now that when you get involved in a job, it takes you over.”

  She was taken aback. What a strange thing to say. “I haven’t been working for over six months,” she said, flatly.

  He sighed. “Yeah, I know. I was just worried, that’s all. You might have phoned and left a message to say you were okay.”

  “I did leave a message. Last night, on our home phone.” She hesitated. “Didn’t you pick it up?”

  There was something in the silence that followed that made her ask. “Have you been home?”

  “Yes, of course, I have. I got back late last night, and left early this morning. Must’ve forgotten to check the machine.”

  He sounded unusually tense, which wasn’t like Simon. He was always cheerful, annoyingly so sometimes. “Anything wrong?” she asked.

  There was a pause. “Everything’s fine.”

  He didn’t sound fine, but she let it go. “Well, I’ve got this new mobile now, so you can ring me anytime you like.”

  “I heard about the Governor’s accident on the news,” he said. “That’s why I was so worried.”

  “Yes, I did mention it in my voicemail last night. It’s been a real shock for everyone here.”

  “I phoned our Consulate in Miami earlier to see how he was getting on,” he said. “They say he’s still critical.”

  “He’s in a coma apparently.” She paused. “It was a strange accident though.”

  “Why? What makes you say that?”

  She wasn’t sure herself. “Well, the Governor was driving himself, in the early hours of the morning, when a truck smashed into him.”

  “So what’s unusual about that?”

  “Well, the police think the truck was stolen from the local supermarket just before the accident. It was a hit and run. But they haven’t found the truck, and they’ve no idea who was driving it.”

  “Kids out joyriding, I expect.”

  “Mm. Maybe.” She paused. “I don’t know why, but it just doesn’t feel right somehow.”

  “Well, I hear from the Washington folk that it’s not an easy Territory to govern. They’re a maverick bunch down there.”

  Simon wasn’t telling her anything that she hadn’t worked out for herself. She wanted to tell him about Mrs Pearson’s murder, and about the tales of voodoo, but something stopped her. He sounded stressed. Was that because she’d come down to work here? Or something else?

  “Is David Evans still there?” he asked.

  “No, he left this morning.”

  “So you’re on your own?” He sighed again. “Honestly, Jess, you do manage to get yourself into some tricky situations. I’m afraid I can’t come down to help you.”

  “Of course not. I wouldn’t expect you to.”

  “But how will you manage on your own?”

  “Don’t worry. I’m not on my own. The Governor’s PA Sally is here and our local staff. We’ll be fine.” In truth, she felt anything but fine, but she wouldn’t say so. “You sure everything’s all right?” she asked again.

  “Yes,” he said, quietly. “I’m just busy, that’s all. I’ve... er, I’ve got to fly to Los Angeles this evening to cover a couple of meetings for the Ambassador.”

  Jess knew Simon had a busy job as First Secretary Political in the Washington Embassy. He travelled a lot around the States, attending conferences, and meeting high profile figures. He often represented the Ambassador on these occasions. “Oh, I see. Will you ring me when you get there?”

  There was a pause. “I’ve got a whole series of meetings lined up. I’m going to be pushed for time over the next couple of days.”

  Surely not too tied up to phone or send a quick text, she thought. But she didn’t want to put him under any mo
re pressure, and said nothing.

  He added quickly. “Look, can you just tick things over down there until London send reinforcements, as I’m sure they will in the circumstances?”

  “What else would I do?” she asked, lightly.

  “You do tend to throw yourself into everything, Jess.”

  “Throw myself into everything?”

  “You know what I mean,” he said. “Well, I’ve got to go home and pack before getting on that plane.”

  “Right, well, I hope it goes well in LA.”

  “Take care,” he said, softly. “See you soon, Jess.” And with that he was gone.

  Jess sat staring at the phone. That was the strangest conversation she’d ever had with Simon. It was almost as if they didn’t know what to say to each other. They’d sounded more like colleagues than lovers. There was something up with him, she could sense it.

  She sat back in the seat and looked out to sea. It was so beautiful, she wished Simon could see it too. The trouble with him was that he worked too hard. Never mind what he said about her, he was the workaholic in the family. What he needed was a good break. She’d try and persuade him to come for a holiday the next time they spoke. It would do him good.

  She started up the engine again and set off for the Governor’s Office. As she drove along, she was so lost in her thoughts she soon found herself in unfamiliar territory, and pulled up outside some gates. The sign said it was the Government Garage. Great, she thought, she’d have a quick look at the Governor’s car while she was there.

  She drove through the gates and pulled up in a gravel courtyard. With the sun now gone and the light fading, it was all pretty gloomy. Ahead, she could see three timber garages, or sheds, all standing in a row, on the far side of the courtyard. To the left stood a small brick building which looked like some kind of office.

  She grabbed her bag, got out of the car and went over to the office. She poked her head in the door. There was a desk cluttered with papers, but no sign of anyone. She walked across the gravel courtyard, over to the nearest garage. Its doors stood half open, and she looked inside. A car was up on the ramp, and tools strewn about underneath. Still no-one.