When the Singing Stops

by Di Morrissey

  ‘Yeah. He wasn’t at breakfast, so the staff told me.’

  ‘Then perhaps he drowned last night,’ said Madi almost as if thinking aloud, then bit her tongue.

  ‘I had a nightcap with him about midnight, maybe a little later. He said he wanted a relatively early night,’ said Lady Annabel. ‘Charming chap really. Very decent. Quite extraordinary at his job, so I hear. Hardly the sort of fellow one expects to go skinny-dipping in the middle of the night, Madi.’

  ‘No, of course not,’ agreed Madi, but there was something about this conversation that made her once again feel a chill of fear ripple down her spine. ‘I think I’ll have another brandy if you don’t mind.’

  As Annabel went to the bar Madi turned to Antonio and asked with forced casualness, ‘What were you going to talk to him about?’

  Antonio was caught off guard. ‘Talk to him? Oh, yeah. You know, the usual,’ he said, slightly rattled. ‘Business chat. Gotta keep in with these public servants, you know. They’re the real powerbrokers in this place. The politicians are just the front guys on the stage. Anyway that’s how I see it.’ He cocked an ear towards the river. ‘I can hear the police helicopter coming in. I’d better go down and direct them to the stream.’

  Standing on the river bank beside Annabel, Madi was the first to turn away as the dark shape was lifted from the boat and dropped onto the little wharf with a thud. A rug was quickly thrown over the body. Connor and Matthew came up looking grim faced, leaving the colonel and Antonio on the wharf. Aradna quietly asked if anyone wanted dinner but was sent away to bring more drinks.

  Finally Colonel Olivera appeared with the two police officers from Georgetown. ‘I know you all planned to leave this evening, but this unfortunate incident has of course changed matters. You’ll each be required to give a statement, nothing to worry about. Straightforward accident I’d say.’

  Madi and the girls threw nervous looks at Connor, Matthew and Kevin. The colonel continued. ‘I’m sure you’ll want to help clear matters up as soon as possible for Ernesto’s sake and for his family’s.’

  ‘Of course. We’ll do everything we can to help,’ said Matthew. He gave a quick nod to his sister, who was standing nearby with Connor holding her hand.

  Connor squeezed her fingers and spoke quietly in her ear. ‘You all right?’

  ‘Sort of.’ She gripped his hand and turned him around so they faced the river, their backs to the rest of the group. ‘You don’t think they’ll keep us here tonight, do you? Please get us out of here after we’ve talked to the police,’ she whispered urgently.

  Connor kissed her on the side of her head. ‘I’ll fix it with Matt. Don’t worry, Madi.’

  Half an hour later, everyone was gathered on the balcony again. The colonel came out with a safari-suited senior police officer and a junior uniformed officer.

  The police chief smiled politely showing large, yellow old-dog teeth. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I am Inspector Palmer and this is my assistant, Frickdern, who will take notes. I realize this is distressing for you all so I will try to keep matters as brief as possible. If further information is required we will contact you back in Georgetown.’

  He then asked to speak to Madi first as her statement would be the most important. Inside the house, Madi sat on a hard leather chair facing Inspector Palmer on the lounge. Frickdern sat to one side making notes on his lap.

  She told exactly what she had done and seen, trying hard to keep her voice as neutral as possible, adding when she finished, ‘It has been a great shock, I’d like to get away and forget the whole thing as soon as possible. I’m just here on holiday’.

  ‘All very understandable. Of course it has been a shock. A nasty one. Have you ever seen a deceased person before?’ he asked in a conversational manner.

  ‘No, I have not,’ she answered almost curtly.

  ‘Difficult. Especially when a friend meets a tragic accident.’

  ‘Ernesto was scarcely a friend. I only met him twice,’ she snapped back and was about to ask why everyone was so readily convinced the death was due to an accident but stayed silent.

  ‘Anything odd happen during the weekend involving the deceased, anything that sticks in your mind?’

  Madi forced herself to stay calm. ‘No. We’ve just been having a good time mainly. Some of the men had little businesslike chats. Our lot spent most of the day across the river.’

  ‘And do you have any theories as to what might have happened?’

  ‘Me? Theories?’ Her eyes were wide and innocent. ‘No. None at all.’

  The smiling softness disappeared from the inspector’s face. ‘Very well, Miss Wright. Thank you. Will you be staying in Georgetown much longer? I’ll quite possibly have more questions for you.’

  ‘I’ll probably be staying on for a while.’ She flashed him a brief half smile. ‘I’ll be very interested to know exactly what happened.’

  ‘So will I, Miss Wright. So will I.’ Madi was leaving the room when the inspector threw a final question at her. ‘Oh, Miss Wright, did your brother have one of those little business chats with the deceased?’

  Madi was taken aback and turned around stunned. ‘Er . . . yes, I think he did.’

  ‘Thank you, Miss Wright. Please ask your brother to step in.’

  By the time everyone had been questioned, a buffet of cold food had been spread out on the verandah and the atmosphere had relaxed a little. Matthew and Connor went to the colonel, who was getting quite drunk but trying to hold himself in check with a bit of a struggle. ‘Colonel . . . Bede, we’re going to head back. Andy is confident he can handle the boat in the dark. He spoke to Rohan who has agreed to accompany us and help bring back the boat, if that’s all right with you.’

  Olivera’s sober and formal demeanour melted abruptly and he leaned back in his chair, waving his drink which slopped on his hand. ‘Please yourselves. I’m sorry the weekend ended so badly. Next time, eh?’

  ‘Indeed, next time,’ said Connor graciously. They both shook the colonel’s hand. The girls muttered their farewells to the group in general and they all headed for the boat in such haste that Madi almost smiled.

  As they were stepping from the stelling, Madi suddenly looked down and in the waving torchlight caught a glimpse of a slightly damp patch on the decking beneath her feet. With a shudder she realised she was standing where Ernesto’s body had lain.

  Once settled and travelling down the river in the silver path of the moon no one felt a need to speak. Everyone was tired and Madi felt drained. Connor dropped his arm around her. ‘It won’t seem as bad in the morning.’

  She tried to still her mind but the more she thought about Ernesto’s death the more questions and fears came to her mind until, utterly exhausted, she fell asleep on Connor’s shoulder.

  NINE

  The AusGeo driver pulled up to the Pessaro Hotel and a tired Matthew and Kevin got out and headed for the small meeting room on the first floor. Stewart Johns, who’d arrived back the night before, had set up a breakfast for heads of departments from the mine and the Australian team. The group assembled and were served coffee by waiters standing stiffly to attention at one side. Kevin reached for a pastry.

  ‘Five hours sleep last night after that big weekend is poor preparation for a session with the CEO,’ he moaned over a black coffee. ‘Have you talked to him yet?’

  Matthew shook his head. ‘No one has seen him, apparently. I’m wondering what all this is about. Why bring in the fellows from the mine?’

  ‘Probably wants them to feel involved. What was he doing in Canada anyway?’

  ‘Some international mining meeting of bigwigs, the future for the industry given the economic and environmental climate and so on.’

  At that moment Johns strode into the room with a man they’d never seen before. The CEO looked fresh and buoyant. The other man was large, solid and fit-looking. Muscles bulged beneath his pale blue shirt despite his advancing age.

  Johns glanced around the room. ‘Good
morning, gentlemen. This is Gordon Ash, Guyminco’s new general manager. Please feel free to speak frankly in front of him.’ He let this piece of news drop into the stunned silence, then continued. ‘Okay. Report time. Fill us in on the past week or so.’

  The reports went around the table, the mine people recounting production figures and technical problems. Some had been solved as best they could, other decisions were awaiting clearance or an alternative suggestion. Gordon Ash leaned forward, his big beefy hands clasped on the table in front of him, sometimes making notes as he followed every report with such intense attention that it caused the speakers to turn their eyes away from his unnerving scrutiny.

  Eventually it was Matthew’s turn.

  ‘So, how was the social weekend with the backroom boys? Pick up anything of interest?’ asked Johns.

  Matthew spoke quickly and concisely, filling him in on the death of Ernesto St Kitt.

  ‘Good God, what a mess. Damned shame. There goes our best informant and helper in the government. Do you think it was an accident?’

  ‘They’re claiming it was.’ Matthew kept silent about the drug-taking. ‘I have my doubts though.’

  ‘Nasty for your sister. What’s the next move then?’

  Matthew was reluctant to speak too openly outside their small Australian team, particularly when this gathering included Guyanese nationals. You never knew where loyalties lay or who knew whom. ‘We gave statements to the police, they might want to see us again.’

  ‘I see.’ Johns moved on, getting little more out of Kevin but understanding he too was holding back. He then briefed the gathering on Gordon Ash, outlining his background as a solid mining executive who’d worked his way up with hands-on experience both in underground and open-cut projects, then moved to administrative status and ultimately to senior executive level. He’d worked in mines in many countries and was a problem solver who understood men, mining, technical and bureaucratic red tape. He would stay on as GM after the Australians had left, until the mine was sold or his two-year contract ran out, whichever came first.

  Gordon Ash then made a short relaxed speech in his soft Canadian accent saying he had an open door policy, he expected to know about problems before they happened and would keep in close touch with the department heads. ‘I like informal briefings. I jog every morning so I invite each of you to take your weekly turn of keeping me company on my early morning runs as a means of keeping me up to date. Healthy bodies and healthy minds lead to healthy productivity. Keeps the brain cells fit as well.’

  He gave a cheerful smile and leaned back in his chair as the impact of this statement sank into the men, who were already feeling weary at the mere thought of running beside this man who was built like a rugby forward. Breathing would be difficult, let alone talking facts, figures. There were discreet raised eyebrows exchanged among the Australians as Johns broke the meeting into an informal meet-the-GM session while the buffet breakfast was wheeled in. He drew Matthew to one side.

  ‘Nice surprise souvenir from your Canadian trip,’ remarked Matthew with a smile.

  ‘He was on my shortlist so I set up a meeting while I was away. He took the job immediately so here he is. He can be a bit abrasive at times, but he’s bright and knows mining inside out and the men will respect him because he’s one of them. He’ll run a tight ship.’

  ‘Good choice.’

  ‘Can’t afford to let our good work go down the drain. So fill me in. What didn’t you say at the table just now?’

  ‘I had a serious talk with St Kitt before he died. He sought me out, said he had been working on finding out who owns this mysterious El Dorado company, but hadn’t been able to pin it down yet. But he had some suspicions that were pointing in a certain direction. I never found out more than that.’

  ‘You think it was an accident?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So it follows that if certain people were concerned at his probings, he was removed from the picture. Which means—’

  Matthew completed the thought. ‘That someone at New Spirit could have killed him, probably on Saturday night.’

  ‘It doesn’t make sense to invite a bunch of outsiders to a planned murder.’

  ‘Maybe it wasn’t planned.’

  Johns raised his eyebrows and glanced across at the group clustered around Gordon Ash. ‘I’d better get back to our new GM. Keep your eyes open, see if we can find another insider that might help us, but don’t waste energy or take risks. We’re not here to find out what happened to missing monies and shonky deals before we took over. We’re here to clean up the mess. I’ll need you and Kevin at the mine for a few days to help with Ash’s orientation. And I’ve asked Connor to come out as well for a meeting with Ash re the money side of things. He needs to be clued in on the IFO deal we’ve made with Connor. At the end of the day, it may be the two of them that sign off on the Guyminco sale.’

  The news of Ernesto St Kitt’s death quickly spread through Georgetown, generating shocked gossip and speculation.

  That evening Hyacinth bustled in before serving dinner, looking distressed, asking if it was true that Mr Ernesto had been murdered.

  ‘My sister Primrose worked for them for little while. Dey nice family. He be an honest fellow. Who kill a good man like dat?’

  ‘We were told it was an accident,’ said Kevin quietly.

  ‘Toosh, I don’ believe what dem government people tell us. Mr Ernesto look after our people. He be honest, not take money like de rest of dem.’ She turned towards the kitchen. ‘Dis be bad ting. And we never gonna know.’

  ‘Never going to know what, Hyacinth?’ asked Madi as she came in and took her seat at the dining room table.

  ‘Hyacinth, let’s wait and see what the police find out,’ said Matthew.

  ‘You gonna be waiting till we git snow in Guyana, Mr Matthew,’ she sniffed.

  Madi stared at Hyacinth’s retreating white uniform. ‘She doesn’t think we’re going to find out what happened? What did you tell her?’

  ‘We didn’t tell her anything, she arrived with full details, including the news it was no accident.’

  ‘What does she know?’ Madi looked concerned.

  ‘It’s only gossip and there’s going to be a lot of it. Ignore it and say nothing,’ advised Matthew. ‘Kevin and Connor and I are going out to the mine for a few days with the new GM. Too bad, as I had it in my head to go to the meeting Ernesto had set up.’

  ‘What meeting?’

  ‘I haven’t mentioned this to anyone, except the police inspector. He’s a cunning operator, by the way. Ernesto told me during our talk that he had a mid-morning meeting at the Blue Toucan on Wednesday with someone who had information about El Dorado, something about dealings with a bank.’

  ‘That’s all he said?’ asked Madi.

  ‘We were going to talk again after the meeting. Well, we’ll have to forget that. Now, are you going to be all right on your own, Madi?’

  ‘Yes. I’ll be fine. I have to meet with Monsieur Sasha St Herve from the Pessaro Hotel. We arranged it at the ambassador’s party.’

  ‘That’s right. He offered you a job. Are you going to take it?’

  ‘I did have my sights set on London,’ admitted Madi. ‘But this sounds like a one-off campaign and there’s nothing to be lost going along to listen. Might pay some expenses, like the Kaieteur trip.’

  ‘You’re still going on that?’ asked Matthew somewhat surprised. ‘I thought what happened the other day might have changed things a bit.’

  ‘Why? If anything I think it’s what I need, an adventure to distract me. I haven’t been much of a tourist since I got here, more of a party girl. It’s been fun,’ she added, ‘but I really feel a deep need to see more of the wild beauty of this country.’

  ‘Well at least Connor will be going along to keep an eye on you.’

  ‘I don’t need anyone to look out for me. I can manage quite well on my own, thanks. Gwen did.’

  Matthew grinned, pleased to see Ma
di back in independent form again.

  On Tuesday morning at breakfast Madi opened the local morning paper and let out an indignant shriek. ‘My God! Listen to this: Government official found dead—drug overdose suspected cause of accident.’

  Matthew was just as astonished. ‘Drug overdose? They’re joking. You said you were sure Ernesto wasn’t on the verandah that night. And Connor and I both agreed he didn’t seem the type. I’m sure he was on our side.’

  Madi stared at Matthew, seeing in her mind’s eye the drug-taking scene on the verandah and the face of Ernesto in the river.

  ‘“Sides”, what do you mean “sides”? Just who are we dealing with?’ Madi asked quietly.

  Matthew rubbed his forehead. ‘I wish I knew. Read the rest of the article.’

  In a low voice Madi continued: ‘An adviser to various government departments and a former lawyer, Mr St Kitt had achieved mid-level status in the service of the Government of Guyana. In the words of the Deputy Prime Minister, “he was a valuable and worthy professional employee. I did not know him socially but we are all sorry to hear of his sad demise under such circumstances”.

  ‘It is believed Mr St Kitt had taken an as yet unnamed drug for recreational purposes on his own while visiting friends at New Spirit on the Essequibo. He went alone along the river, telling friends he was going for a walk and a swim. It is believed that while under the influence he fell, struck his head and drowned.

  ‘He is survived by a wife and three children.’

  Madi was furious. ‘It’s all bullshit, Matt. What a cover-up for Olivera and his government cronies. All distancing themselves very nicely.’ Madi’s eyes sparked in anger.

  ‘Madi, think carefully,’ Matthew said calmly. ‘Is there any chance it could have been like they said?’

  She thought before answering. ‘I’m trying to be as objective as possible. I didn’t know Ernesto well so I don’t have any strong emotional need to try to protect him. I don’t know anything about forensic science. I don’t know why I am so sure about this, but there are some things you know in your bones are true. And I just know Ernesto didn’t die like they’re making out. It looked like he had been hit on the side of his head.’