by Emily Selby
She'd deal with Josephine's false assumptions regarding her and James later.
"I'll call him," Heather said, grabbing her phone.
"But first, we have to have enough evidence to prove your innocence..." she said and dropped her cell phone back on the table.
They were back to square one.
12
"I'm going to call James," Heather said.
She hadn't come up with anything to defend Josephine, but she could try to discover James' current thoughts regarding the case. "Maybe more detailed results of the autopsy are in."
"Do as you please," Josephine replied, shuffling towards the cupboard. The kitten brushed against her legs.
"Come here little Kea," Josephine mumbled. "I'll give you some fresh water and maybe some food."
Heather's heart skipped a beat.
She said it! Josephine had just called the cat Kea.
Heather opened her mouth to praise Josephine for it but closed it again. Josephine could have taken it the wrong way. It was better to pretend it was a natural process.
Heather picked up the phone again, fumbling through the recent numbers. Her finger hovered over the redial button.
She planned to just ask how he was doing.
And about the autopsy.
She pressed the green button and waited. And waited.
The call transferred to voicemail, and she disconnected.
He was still not answering. Where the heck was he? Surely he hadn't been serious about stepping down from the investigation?
A tapping cut through her musings. Then, something rolled across the floor.
"Now we've got the windows sorted, we should look at what to renovate next. Maybe fix the floorboards?" Heather said still looking at her dark screen of the phone.
"I thought you said you could live with an uneven floor," Josephine said. The hum of running water signaled that she was washing the cat's bowl.
Some more tapping followed.
Heather lifted her head and looked around.
"The kitty is playing with something," Heather observed. "What did you give him? It's blue."
"I haven't given him anything. Maybe it's a ball?"
"Where from? We don't have any. It could be something from the cupboard." Heather stood up. "I'd better check."
She strolled across the kitchen to the hallway where the cat was playing. She squatted by the animal, lifted his fluffy light body and gave him a cuddle. With her free hand, she picked up a narrow blue band with white pattern on it.
"It's a rubber or plastic bracelet," Heather called out.
"No idea what you're talking about," Josephine replied. She tapped the bowl on the edge of the sink.
The cat jumped out of Heather's embrace, and she stood up.
"It says Vitchelo on it," she added, walking up to Josephine. "Is this yours?" Heather shoved her find in front of Josephine's eyes.
Josephine wiped her hands on the tea towel. She slipped her glasses onto her nose again.
"Nope," she said shaking her head. "Ah, yes. I think I might have picked it up on the beach during one of my walks," she added after a while. "Don't even ask me how it got it here. I was in a daze. I thought I'd dropped something, so I bent to pick it up. I must have put that in my pocket automatically. I guess, it fell out when I took the binoculars out of my pocket back at home," she added.
"Do you remember where you found it?" Heather asked. The familiar feeling tugging at her gut had returned.
"Sorry, not really. I was quite distracted. It must have been during the night. Otherwise, I would have seen what it was, and I would have left it where it was."
"It may have something to do with Rose’s death," Heather said, even though she couldn't think of a connection.
However, at this stage she was keen to investigate anything.
Clutching at straws...
She reached for her phone again, but this time she used her search engine of choice and typed in the name from the bracelet. After a few seconds, she was scrolling through images of outdoor gear. But none of it looked like the item she'd taken from Kea. She switched to an online retailer.
"It's a brand bracelet. Apparently comes in the package with a headlamp. Used for fishing," Heather said.
"Do you think it's a clue?"
Heather glanced at her roommate and shrugged. She knew nothing about fishing gear.
"Why would anybody have anything like that?"
"For night fishing, of course," Josephine said. She was standing in the corner watching the cat.
"Fishing at night? I thought it was done by big boats, far out at sea."
"Some people do it from a boat, or a pier. Even from a beach. I suppose they may need a lamp like that."
"You went to the beach in the middle of the night, right?"
"Yes, and again in the morning."
"Did you walk towards the bay?"
"Yes."
"That's in the opposite direction from the huts," Heather observed. A memory popped up in her mind. "I think I saw a twinkling light, coming from the huts, or the sea."
"Are you thinking that whoever was fishing that night might have seen Rose's death or whoever caused it?"
"Yes."
Heather got up and walked up to the window overlooking the beach. The sand shimmered in the afternoon sun. The sea in the distance was darker than it had been that morning, no doubt courtesy of a layer of clouds approaching the shore.
It was going to rain again, soon.
But weather thoughts aside, Heather scanned the horizon. To her left, the view towards the huts was blocked by the hedge between the café and neighboring B&B. To see the little wooden houses, she would have to walk to the end of the hedge, some fifty yards from the waterline.
Heather turned to her right. The side window gave her a view of the parking lot, and a group of trees, flax plans and bushes behind it along a little path leading towards the bay. To see the bay, she would have to pop upstairs, to her bedroom.
Now, that didn't help at all.
Thinking was leading her around in circles. She had made some incorrect assumptions.
"Listen, Josephine," Heather said.
Running things through her head wasn't enough. Josephine had proven to be quite a good observer and a sounding board so far. Maybe she could see things Heather was blind to.
"Fire away, Sherlock," Josephine replied.
"On the night Rose died, Jon Waters was across the island, in Dargaville, fishing. We have evidence that his car didn't leave the lodge. Apparently, his friends swear that he spent the day and the night with them."
"They might be lying," Josephine replied. "Mind you, I wouldn't be surprised if they asleep, drunk."
"Okay. And if we assume that he sailed over to Dolphin Cove and somehow got hold of his wife–"
"That should be easy to check, he would have to ring her."
"The police would have checked that out. And obviously, they cleared him," Heather said. The humming in her head grew into a headache. She massaged her temples. "I'm not sure where I'm going with this. But maybe he told Rose he wanted to fish with her, lured her onto his boat and then killed her there. He then dragged the body into the hut."
"And arranged the scene."
Heather pressed her lips and closed her eyes. The headache wasn't helping her think.
"We still don't know how she died. We can't progress without it. James is not answering his phone. How about we pay him a visit?"
13
When Heather and Josephine arrived at James' property, his truck was parked outside.
"At least, he's home," Heather said, climbing out of her Nissan.
"He might have gone for a walk, a bike ride or a drive with someone else," Josephine commented.
Heather ran up the stairs to the entrance. She wasn't going to engage in that sort of negativity.
We'll cross that bridge when we come to it...
She pressed the doorbell. The metallic chime echoed inside th
e small house and on the little porch.
Heather waited, but nothing happened. Not even a dog bark.
"He's out," Josephine said.
Heather rang the bell again and followed with a long knocking.
"Hello, James. It's Heather," she called.
She moved towards the window to her side. The inside was dark.
"He can't be too far," Heather said, running down the steps. "Maybe he's in the back garden."
The narrow, paved path led behind the building.
"Come on, Josephine," Heather beckoned. "We've got to find him."
"He's either not here, or he's hiding from everyone," Josephine grumbled. "Either way we won't find him."
Heather waved her hand and trotted around the side of the house towards the back garden.
But the neatly mowed back lawn was as empty as Josephine had predicted.
"Told you so," Josephine said.
Heather swiveled, her mouth opened, ready to fire a comment about unhelpful statements.
"He's at the beach, I recon," Josephine added quickly. "That way." She pointed to a gap in the hedge surrounding the back garden.
Heather whizzed in a breath. She clamped her mouth shut.
You're forgiven this time...
"Let's go!" she said and rushed towards the opening.
After about twenty yards, the path opened onto the beach – the southern part of the bay she could see from her bedroom window. The bright blue water shimmered between the rocks, and the flax and low palm trees adorned a narrow strip of sand. The beach was empty, except for the buzz of insects and the distant screech of seagulls.
"Over there, behind the pohutukawas," Josephine said.
Thank goodness, she was being more reasonable!
Heather headed in the direction of the most popular of New Zealand’s trees. Their low, tangled branches blocked the view.
"James, are you here?" Heather called.
A dog barked.
Well, at last!
"Axel, James," Heather yelled, carefully placing her feet in the gaps between the large, grey and black stones.
"It's Heather and Josephine, hello?"
'Ahoy there," a voice boomed from behind a large boulder. And then Axel emerged, wagging his tail.
"I'm coming, wait there," James shouted. "It's slippery. I know the passage,"
A few seconds later, James' head, topped with a baseball cap, appeared above the rocks, and then the rest of his muscular body appeared, dressed in a plain T-shirt and shorts.
"What's up, ladies?" he asked when he was close enough to hold a normal conversation. Axel ran off into the water, chasing a butterfly.
"We've discovered something that may help solve the case," Heather said, rummaging in her pocket.
"I'm no longer working on it," he replied, his face serious. "Sorry."
Heather froze with her hand in her pocket.
"What? Why?" she croaked. "That's not right."
James raised his eyebrows.
"It is right. I told you, I screwed it up," he replied.
"Were you sacked?"
"Not exactly. I removed myself from the investigation since I've got nothing to add."
"But ... But Rose's death is still unclear..." Heather protested, her voice coming out weaker than she wanted.
James shrugged. "And they're still working on it, but without me. The M.E. is really good. As soon as the cause of death is clear, someone else will pick up the case where I've left off."
He turned away, facing towards the sea.
"Axel, come here, boy!" he called. The dog left his insect reluctantly and galloped back to the rocks.
"And now, if you excuse me, ladies, I've got more fishing to do," James said, turning to walk away.
A lump popped up in Heather throat. She scrambled for words.
"Hey, Mr. Fancy Cop from London," Josephine's alto boomed above Heather's head. "This is not how we deal with ugly things here. You've forgotten, ey?"
Heather glanced at her companion. Josephine stood with her hands on her hips. Her jaw was working back and forth.
"Listen to me," she carried on, with the voice that reminded Heather of a head teacher reprimanding her student. "You complain that locals don't want to talk to you. If you want to reintegrate back into our community, you need to earn our trust. You hear me? You need to show that you're actually on our side. That you care and you won't stop until justice is served."
Whoa...
Heather clasped her hands together. Yeah, that was deserving of applause.
Actually, it was the speech Heather should have delivered. But Josephine had done it as well as she could have managed.
Or maybe even better. Given her age and her standing in the local community, Josephine had more right to say the words than Heather did.
James took a deep breath. His eyes glistened. A wince crossed his darkly, handsome face.
"You're talking to me as if was a little boy. I am not. I will not be scolded like that," he fired back and turned on his heel.
"Hey, you, proud immigrant," Heather shouted. Her voice trembled. She pushed her elbows into her sides - maybe it would add to her confidence? "Won't you at least listen to us? Can you spare time to look at something we found on the beach on the night Rose died?"
James' shoulders twitched. He turned back to face them.
"Okay," he said, reluctance brimming in his voice.
Heather pulled the plastic bag from her pocket. "Here it is," she said. "We've both touched it, but hopefully, you maybe still able to get some other fingerprints from it. Might be some other evidence, too. Trace evidence you call it, right?"
James eyed the bag and its contents.
"What's in there?" he asked, reaching for the bag.
Heather told him about Josephine's trips to the beach and their theory of how the bracelet ended up in her possession.
James inspected the article through the clear plastic bag.
"How is this connected to the case?"
"Okay, I'll tell you, but promise you'll listen until the end," she said sternly.
James drew his eyebrows in. "Is this a long story?"
"Yes, and you have to listen to the whole thing," Josephine fired back. "I'll try my best to be succinct."
She proceeded to tell him about the Waters' unscrupulous business practices, Rose's recent change in behavior and the rumors that Jon might have suggested she needed a psychiatric assessment. She also covered, suspicious deaths in the creek, but smoothly glossed over her own family's role in the fencing incident.
James listened, his arms crossed, and his eyebrows drawn together.
"And so?" he asked once she finished.
"Jon Waters is the man you should check," Josephine said.
"I have. He's got an alibi. Confirmed by three friends. He claims he's a loving and caring husband. He's been asking her to go and see her doctor. There is a record of his phone call to the doctor's practice asking for advice how to do it."
"With details?" Josephine asked.
"No, just a general comment. That was a few months ago. He's been calling her every day since her arrival at Dolphin Cove a few days ago. Apparently, he's been checking on her. A caring husband."
"Yeah, right," Josephine grumbled. "Caring, my eye ... Controlling, yes!"
"Until you've got proof, you can protest to your heart’s content," James replied.
"We think this is his bracelet. Josephine forgot to tell you about the boat," Heather cut in, and gave Josephine a nudge.
"Ah, yes, indeed." Josephine nodded and told him about the yacht in the bay.
His face relaxed a little, but his arms remained crossed.
"Are you sure it was his boat?" he asked when she'd finished.
"I recognized the pattern on the sail. That fish swallowing a smaller one is unmistakable. They somehow stained it onto the fabric. Everyone back home would recognize it. Right now, the boat is moored in the marina, in the harbor. You can check with the mast
er who it's registered to."
He shook his head.
"Yeah, maybe. But still, how is this supposed to link to Rose's death. She likely died of a heart fibrillation - a heart rhythm problem. She'd had palpitations before, never diagnosed, but it's not uncommon."
"So, the M.E. has found the cause of death?" Heather demanded.
'Yes. And it's not shed much light on the situation."
"And apart from the suspected heart rhythm problems nothing else?"
"No."
"Not even a teeny tiny suspicion?" Heather's voice took on a pleading tone.
James pressed his lips into a pale line and shook his head.
"What about the poison in the paint on her fingertip?"
"Fingertips," James corrected her. "There was some on the thumb as well. The paint might have burnt the skin a little. But maybe it's just the coloring. Hard to tell."
"And you still dismissed it?" Heather's cheeks burned, and her temples throbbed.
"A silly joke, we haven't found the author of."
"Shouldn't you treat it as an attempted murder anyway?" Heather protested.
Her pulse kicked into the next gear. Now, James was being difficult...
"We are," he replied, glancing to the side. Axel wagged his tail and jerked, ready to go back to wherever they were heading. "It's just that I'm no longer involved."
The familiar tugging at Heather’s gut reappeared. And the sense of not being told the whole truth. He had done the same thing to her before, during the investigations into Josephine's poisoning.
"Hold on," Heather stepped forward, standing between James and his dog. Axel squealed. His cold, wet nose touched Heather's hand. "Even if you're no longer involved, you have the duty to report what we've told you to the correct person, don't you?"
A frown crossed James' face.
"Now, you've pointed it out, yes, I have," James grumbled. "But you could call them yourselves."
A sudden thought crossed Heather's mind. It was crazy... But desperate times called for desperate measures.
"We'll do that after we've inspected the boat, won't we, Josephine?" she said firmly, turning to Josephine.
"We will," Josephine confirmed adding a nod.