A Shimmer of Hummingbirds

by Steve Burrows

  The sound filled the world, stilling the air, rolling around in the silence of the frozen landscape. For a moment, no one stirred, the firefighters, the uniformed officers, the newly arrived tactical squad. And then someone called out the word, and everything began moving again at the same time, in horror, in fear, in chaos.

  “Gunshot!”

  53

  Dark clouds hovered low over the rolling landscape beyond the window in DCS Shepherd’s office. She had switched on the lights against the gloom, but the oppressive greyness of the late afternoon still gathered at the window. Another day, she may have drawn the blinds altogether, but she felt they needed whatever light they could get from outside, to lift the sombre mood that pervaded the office.

  Maik stared straight ahead, unseeing. Salter looked down at her hands folded in her lap as if they were alien things, unrecognizable. Shepherd was speaking, as she had done for the past few moments, disjointed, fragmented thoughts, utterances to keep the silence at bay.

  “The loss of any officer is difficult to deal with. We all know that. And I recognize that, in this case, there are special circumstances, attachments that were formed, that also have to be taken into consideration. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you, I find this as difficult as you do. But we must continue to do our jobs. So please, let’s do them. We’ll have plenty of time for our own feelings when it’s all wrapped up. She looked up at Maik. “Robin Oakes has confessed, I understand? To everything?”

  Maik roused himself from his thoughts and cleared his throat. “Yes, ma’am. Oakes bought the jacket and moustache but never wore them. He took the coat to James’s boat on a day when he didn’t need to wear it, and got the fingerprints. The cap he wore, with a plastic liner, so he could get the girl’s makeup on it when he charged into her. Putting the cap and jacket in the one bag like that, it never occurred to any of the investigating officers that the two items might not both have been together at Erin Dawes’s cottage.”

  Shepherd nodded silently. If it was an error, it was one she would have made, too.

  Maik was silent for a moment. He seemed to be having trouble keeping his mind on the topic at hand. But Shepherd understood. She was surprised he could be so coherent and focused as he was, given the circumstances. Salter had not said a word. She understood that, too.

  “Sergeant,” Shepherd prompted gently.

  “Oh, yes, ma’am. Sorry. Oakes was counting on the girl reporting the assault. She would give her description, we would arrest Oakes, and then the disguise would be found. James’s print, James’s cup with Oakes’s DNA on it, it would all point to him trying to frame Oakes. No one would believe Robin Oakes was trying to frame himself.”

  “The cup?”

  “Taken from The Big Deal when Oakes went over to drop off a photograph. James is a single man who drinks pop. He probably never goes near those cups except when company comes. My bet is he had no idea one was missing.”

  Shepherd nodded again. So much for the hows. It was the whys that had her guessing. But before she could ask, there was a tap on the door.

  “Come in,” invited Shepherd. “There you are. I’ll make a general announcement later, but I’ve already told Sergeant Maik and Constable Salter. As of now, the role of Saltmarsh’s DCI is yours, Inspector Laraby.”

  Shepherd offered a warm smile as she delivered the news. Only those who knew her very well would have been able to detect whether there was anything preventing her from fully celebrating the moment.

  Laraby’s own smile struck just the right balance of gratitude and humility. His right hand was heavily bandaged where the barrel of Oakes’s shotgun had burnt it when Laraby wrestled the weapon away from him. Maik accepted the upturned left hand proffered as a substitute and shook it perfunctorily. Salter declined to notice.

  “I’m grateful for the opportunity. I’m aware that the outgoing DCI has left some big shoes to fill, but I have no doubt our success on this case is a sign of some very positive things to come for this crack team here in Saltmarsh.”

  “You’re aware that Oakes has confessed, I take it? Sergeant Maik took care of that while you were being treated at the hospital.”

  “I popped down to pay my respects just before they took him away. He had the decency to let me know he wasn’t trying to kill us with that drone.” Laraby flashed Maik a grin, of sorts. “He apologizes for the damage to your car. He actually offered to pay for it.” He shook his head. “I told you, they live in a different world, this lot. Even now, I don’t think he has a clue how much trouble he’s in. He probably thinks it’s going to be like being blackballed at the club for a couple of months.”

  “We did finally get to the bottom of his motive, I take it?” Shepherd looked between Maik and Laraby.

  “Dawes thought Oakes was just being his usual playboy self, arsing around and not taking the deal seriously, so that’s what their arguments were about. Finally, when he realized he couldn’t stall any longer, Oakes agreed to have the documents drawn up for the land lease. But he told her he wanted to be the one to hand over the cash, with the documents, just before midnight on the deadline.”

  “Why was he so reluctant to commit the land?”

  Laraby, Salter, and Maik looked at one another. How had this not reached Shepherd’s desk already?

  “It wasn’t his land, not anymore. It hasn’t been for many years, apparently. After the fire, his father sold the entire estate, titles and everything, to an American billionaire, with the proviso that Oakes should be supported in his chosen profession and allowed to live in the gatehouse on the estate, provided he remained single. Oakes has been trading on his aristocratic status since he moved in to Oakham, but it’s all been a sham.”

  Shepherd stared at them for a long time. “The taxes on the land itself must have been crippling, and yet a man with a cash flow that can best be described as erratic, and a propensity to go through money like water, never misses a payment. How the hell did we miss this?”

  “The land had been in the same family for four hundred years, ma’am. It never occurred to anybody investigating the case to look into its ownership,” said Maik.

  It was the second time Maik had used a similar qualifier, and this time Salter was certain. Somebody who hadn’t been investigating the case had come up with this. And the idea that the jacket had been handled by James, but only the cap had been at Erin Dawes’s cottage. Jejeune. He had solved this case and given the solution to Laraby, most likely through Danny. She couldn’t imagine why, but she knew she wasn’t wrong. And coupled with what else she already knew, it gave her the whole picture. Or as much of it as she needed.

  Shepherd’s radar, for once, was off. She seemed to have missed Danny’s references. She seemed unaware, too, of the underlying electricity that now existed in the room. Instead, she was concentrating on understanding all the nuances of the case.

  “Why on earth would Oakes ever agree to the IV League deal in the first place, if he knew he could never commit the land?”

  “He thought the owner would jump at the chance,” said Laraby. “A billionaire with an eye for a deal, a quick twenty percent return on the options, with no cash outlay. Oakes thought it was a formality; get the signatures he needed, discreetly file the papers, and nobody need ever know that Oakes had neither property nor title any longer. He could continue his rural aristo playboy lifestyle just as before.”

  Shepherd was puzzled. “So, why did the real owner of Oakham refuse such a lucrative deal?”

  “Drones,” said Laraby. “It turns out the financier shares Gerald Moncrieff’s feelings about them eroding our civil liberties. He refused, point blank, to have anything to do with the project. Oakes kept asking, of course, and kept delaying, hoping he would change his mind. But he never did, and by then it was too late to find anybody else to take up the options, certainly without revealing that Oakes didn’t own the land himself. So he was forced to appear as if he was prepared to go through with the deal.”

  “Oakes did
make a point of saying he never intended for anyone to die, ma’am,” said Maik. “He told me that more than once. Apparently, he told Erin Dawes that he would sign the land over if she gave him the funds, so he could present the entire package at once. He photoshopped some options certificates to keep her happy. Then all he had to do was make sure he intercepted any irate calls James made to the IV League phone line, reply by email, and no one would be any the wiser. For a while.”

  “Oakes kept the money?” asked Shepherd.

  Maik nodded. “He claims he did plan to return it — some of it anyway. He’d been led to believe that without the land at Oakham, the entire Picaflor project would collapse. If it did, the share values would plummet. He could have made arrangements for the others to receive whatever was still due to them and pocket the rest. But he didn’t count on Amendal being able to rescue the project without the land. By all reasonable expectations, what Amendal achieved should have been impossible. But he saved the project, and when Picaflor’s stock rose, instead of falling, Oakes knew both Welbourne and Moncrieff would want to cash out. Even if he could have found some way to pay back their investments, he knew Dawes would have wanted to stay invested in the company.”

  Shepherd nodded to herself. “Oakes had robbed her of a wonderful investment opportunity, likely using up most of her life savings, I would imagine. She would have seen to it that his life was ruined.”

  Laraby stepped in again. “He knew he would have to kill her to maintain his secret, but he left it as long as he could, until the Picaflor shareholders’ report came out, when it would have become clear the IV League weren’t invested in the company. It gave him time to set things up — the cup, the clothing, everything.” The newly appointed DCI shook his head. “A billionaire financier with principles and a project director who turns out to be a mathematical miracle worker? If Oakes didn’t have bad luck, he wouldn’t have any luck at all.” But he didn’t sound sorry for him. “The business of the attempted murder charge, ma’am. I’d like to make sure it’s included.”

  “Robin Oakes discharged a shotgun at a policeman, in my jurisdiction. I’m not of a mind to let that go unacknowledged, DCI Laraby.”

  Laraby nodded. “I’d just like to be sure he faces the justice he deserves.”

  “I’m sure we all want that. For everybody,” said Salter in an outburst that had both Maik and Shepherd looking at her. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some things to do.”

  The others watched her leave in silence. But Laraby’s were the only eyes that stayed on the door long after she had left.

  54

  Jejeune stood outside DCS Shepherd’s office for a long time after the door closed behind him. It had been a short interview. He had known it was coming, but he offered no defence. The time for speaking up, for making his case, had already passed. All that had been left to him was to observe a silence that saved somebody else. Jejeune himself was beyond help.

  “You were ordered to give this case your full support and you were off chasing birds. A senior member of the force is getting fired at with a shotgun, and you’re trying to tick a Golden Oriole off your bloody life list, Domenic?”

  Shepherd had been agitated by other things, too, he knew. She had just returned from the hospital after seeing Marvin Laraby. The reports that had been flying around the station when Jejeune arrived back from Elvery were even more fragmentary and contradictory than usual. It had been impossible to get a clear picture of what had happened up on the Oakham property. Laraby had been shot, or not. He was injured; he was okay. Oakes had been arrested, or he was on the run. In the end, Shepherd had raced to her car and sped to the hospital, where only the very worst of the news, or perhaps the best, could be confirmed.

  She glowered at Jejeune now. She was angry at so many things, not least what she had to do, and she was ready to blame him for all of them.

  “What a bloody mess,” she said, gathering up the reports from her desk and holding them in her hands. For a moment, Jejeune thought she might throw them all up in the air, such was her mood. But she laid them down eventually, and even made a show of trying to sift through one or two of them.

  “I can’t even make out where Danny Maik was in all this. He’s listed under Officers Present on DI Laraby’s report, but there’s no mention of him at all beyond that. We’ve got Salter flying that drone all over the place, Laraby’s off chasing over rubble and getting shot at like Captain Courageous, and Maik is … where? Recording it all on his phone, in case he ever starts a Youtube page? I’d have thought he’d have been front and centre in the pursuit. This was exactly his kind of thing.” A thought seemed to strike her and she looked up at Jejeune with a horrified expression on her face. “Oh, please God, Domenic, don’t tell me he was out there chasing birds with you.”

  “Hardly likely, is it?” said Jejeune, not quite trusting his eyes to carry the message. “I understand it was a chaotic scene out there. I imagine it must have been virtually impossible to keep track of the movements of all the personnel at the site.”

  It wasn’t Jejeune’s comment that made Shepherd look up at him. It was the flat, deadpan delivery that triggered an alarm. She looked at him carefully, and he could see her wrestling with the decision. Pursue it and risk losing a good officer? Or let it go?

  She lifted a sheet of paper from the desk. “I’ve made a formal recommendation that DI Laraby be promoted to DCI,” she said. “He’s been offered the posting here.” It was clear that she had intended to deliver this information honestly and respectfully, looking directly at Jejeune, as frankly as she could. But her eyes never quite made it, sliding away to the refuge of the paper once again. “You’ll be offered Minton. They’re delighted, naturally, and you’ll get only the very best of references from me. They are only interested in your policing skills, after all. Of course, the decision to accept or not is entirely yours, but I can tell you quite categorically that there is no position open at this station for you.”

  Jejeune said nothing. He had known the consequences of his decision. He had known it would end like this. Had he expected something different, some uncharacteristic act of magnanimity from Laraby, or a flash of insight from Shepherd that might have changed his fate? He wasn’t sure.

  “Please don’t try to talk me out of this, Domenic,” she said. “It was a difficult enough decision as it is. I’m sure you’ll agree, in time, if not just now, that it’s the best thing for all of us. The service will continue to value your unique talents, and your career will continue to soar. Though you may not believe it at the moment, I’ll watch your progress with no little pride.”

  Was she asking for something from him? Some small show of understanding? Of absolution? Jejeune didn’t know. But he had no emotions left in him, no desire, no wishes, no interest. He was numbed, now, by the reality of his situation, but he had his consolation, too.

  It hadn’t been Ray Hayes in that church. The explosion at Lindy’s offices had been an accident after all. Hayes had been a product of a fevered dream, delirium brought on by heatstroke, but never anything tangible. All he had ever really had was a vague description from Lindy of some shaven-headed man with tattoos on his neck, a description that could have fit a thousand men. Other than that, what? An unusual explosion, the presence of Marvin Laraby, and a name from their mutual past. All sewn up, neatly tailored by Jejeune’s imagination, swirling from illness, from tropical heat, from the strange magical realism of Colombia, and the ongoing uncertainty over Damian’s fate, into one neat package that never existed. Ray Hayes had not been in Saltmarsh. And Lindy was safe.

  Shepherd watched her outgoing DCI carefully. He was calmer than he should have been. As sanguine as he was, she knew he loved this place, this adopted north Norfolk home of his. He should be devastated. But he wasn’t.

  “I can understand this is all quite a shock for you. If you’d like a few moments to compose yourself, we can finish this up later.”

  “I’m fine, thank you.” said Jejeune.
<
br />   Fine? she thought. Why? Because Saltmarsh was just another roadside stop on your journey? “Fine” because then you can pretend being here has meant nothing to you at all. How dare you, Domenic Jejeune? How bloody dare you?

  But Shepherd could see there would be no further comments coming from the man standing before her. “Very well, then. Let’s try to make the handover as painless as possible for everyone concerned. You and Laraby are both good professionals and I expect you to conduct yourselves as such.” She looked up. “Have you even seen or spoken to him since you’ve been back? I had hoped you might be able to resolve your differences while you were both here.”

  “No chance,” said Jejeune.

  Shepherd gave a small smile. You were always so clever, Domenic. Always managed to hit that perfect pitch of ambiguity, so nobody knew quite what you meant, or what you were thinking, or feeling.

  “Very well. I intend to start processing the paperwork for the transfer as soon as possible. You can have the week to get yourself sorted. Anything else, DCI Jejeune?”

  “No,” he said. “I don’t think there is.”

  Danny Maik was waiting outside the door to Jejeune’s office when his superior officer arrived.

  “He was clever,” he said.

  Jejeune nodded. “Yes, he was.”

  “But he knew you’d be clever, too.”

  Jejeune said nothing.

  “He knew you’d look at the arguments. He knew you wouldn’t settle for the obvious. But if they weren’t about money, and they weren’t about sex, there was really only one other thing Robin Oakes and Erin Dawes could have been arguing about: the land.”

  “Anyone in there?” Jejeune indicated the door to the office, the door that still bore his name. Maik shook his head and the two men entered.

  “That was the only part I didn’t quite understand,” said Maik, as soon as they were in the room together and the door was closed behind them. “Why Oakes went to all the rigamarole of setting up the disguise, the planting of the evidence. But he knew you’d look into the land ownership, and he knew you’d find out he didn’t own it. Then you’d have your motive — the only one that made sense.”