Absolute Money: Part I: An Oliver Holmes Caribbean Thriller

by C B Wilson

  Ellie said, “It’s a safety thing. We look out for each other.”

  “We know something has happened to her,” said Nikki, and for the first time, Holmes could see the fear in her eyes.

  “OK, fine,” said Holmes. “Let’s figure out what to do next.” His tone of voice was bright, but inside he felt horrible that his beautiful ex-girlfriend had turned herself into a prostitute.

  From the way she was looking at him, Holmes could tell that she knew what he was thinking. But she just said, “Find her. Please.”

  15

  Senior Superintendent Roberts’ house was nothing for the anti-corruption police to get excited about. It was high in the hills, a small, white brick building, two storeys in an L-shape with a pink hipped roof. There was no swimming pool and no fancy cars in the garage. A high wall surrounded an impressive sweep of garden, and in the distance were the twinkling lights of the coastal strip.

  His wife opened the door. It was early evening and Mrs Roberts offered Jerry fruit juice three times, and when Jerry finally said “Yes please”, she said she would bring it out to the garden where Mr Roberts was waiting. The sofa where she had been sitting was covered in clear plastic. On the table next to the chair was a large flowery hat, the kind of hat you would wear if you were having afternoon tea with a bishop.

  Roberts was fussing with some flowers in the half of a courtyard made by the L-shape of his house, but he didn’t look like he was enjoying it. Or maybe it was the presence of Jerry that was causing his lip to curl at the edges. As soon as his wife was back in the house, Roberts said, “I don’t appreciate you coming to my house.”

  He had a very large head and a small body, like he was a TV personality. His voice had the firm smack of command and he moved with the confidence of a man who was used to being obeyed.

  “Well Jack,” Jerry said, reaching for a breezy tone and nailing it. “There was a matter I wanted to discuss with you that couldn’t wait until tomorrow.”

  The policeman said, “You call me Senior Superintendent Roberts.”

  Jerry wasn’t intimidated. He met Roberts’ stare eye to eye and said, “I will call you whatever I choose, Jack.”

  That brought the thunder rumbling out of the policeman. “Who the hell do you think you are, talking to me like that?”

  Jerry kept staring into the policeman’s eyes. “How long have we been paying you, Jack? Did you put both your daughters through private school with that money? And that young woman in Kingston 5, are we paying for her too?”

  Jerry pulled a picture of a beautiful, pale-skinned young woman out of his briefcase. “I think she’s bleaching, don’t you? Terrible isn’t it, that they can’t feel happy in their own skin. Shall we ask Mrs Roberts what she thinks about skin bleaching?”

  Roberts’ anger was simmering. “We got a lot of gunmen in Jamaica,” Roberts said. “Scum, all of them. Anyone get in their way, they shoot them down – women, children, police officers included. The fact of the matter is, I would rather deal with any of them, or all of them, than have anything to do with you.”

  Jerry said, “How was the International Conference for Police and Law Enforcement Executives? Vegas wasn’t it? I see you flew out there, upgraded yourself and your companion to business class. Stayed a couple of extra days after the conference. I’m guessing that wasn’t Mrs Roberts who accompanied you. She looks more like a homebody to me than a Vegas chick.”

  Roberts looked away. He said, “Do you get some kind of kick out of this?”

  “You didn’t have to take the money, Jack.”

  And that was all it took. The bluster was gone, like a slow puncture on a bicycle finally going flat.

  “This is the last time,” Roberts said. “Tell me what you want and get out of here.”

  Jerry said, “It’s the last time when I say it’s the last time.”

  “What do you want?”

  Jerry said, “Tomorrow morning, you are personally going to take charge of the search for a missing man and a woman. They left the yacht Plutus on a jet-ski early Saturday morning off Montego Bay. You are going to discover that they had an accident and drowned. My guess is you’ll find a smashed-up jet-ski around Maggotty Cove, and a body.”

  Roberts laughed without any humour. “I can’t take charge of that investigation.”

  Jerry said, “Just do it. My employer wants this wrapped up by lunchtime tomorrow. And so do you.”

  They went back and forth a while longer but they both knew he was beaten. Jerry left him slumped on a bench in his garden but Mrs Roberts wasn’t done. She called after Jerry in the driveway. “Young man, you have forgotten your briefcase. Let me get it for you.”

  “No, it’s OK. I left it with Jack. It has some papers in that I wanted him to look over.”

  She said, “That’s good. I hope my husband was able to help you.”

  “Oh he will,” Jerry said, and shook her hand as he walked away. He realised that she hadn’t brought him the juice after all, but he couldn’t find any deeper meaning in that, so he forgot about her immediately.

  16

  As far as Holmes could see, the three women had done the right things in looking for Nadia. If she had left the yacht and not made it to Miami, then the most likely place for her to be was somewhere along the coastline around Montego Bay. They had put out a flyer, contacted the police and the British Consulate.

  Oliver said he wouldn’t have done anything differently, except maybe he wouldn’t have had the spa treatment at the hotel while they were waiting for news.

  He looked at Nadia’s website. It was called “Sophisticated Companion” and it ran under the Elite Escorts brand with a “.co.uk” domain. Even though it was already after 10 p.m. back in London, Oliver suggested that Charlotte and Ellie stay at the hotel and get hold of the Elite Escorts webmaster. Holmes told them to find out if there had been any activity from Nikki’s end since Friday. They assumed that a web guy was probably still working at that time on a Sunday night.

  While they got on the phones, Oliver and Nikki headed to the marina.

  Oliver had been driving his car in Jamaica every day for four months with no passengers, and he used the front seat like a rubbish bin that he never emptied. He tried to get to his car before Nikki did but she matched him step for step across the car park. She stood beside him while he pitched the cartons and cans and food wrappers into the back seat. “Glad to see you haven’t changed,” she said.

  Oliver ignored her, got in the driver’s seat and slammed the door.

  She said, “Shall we talk about this? Why are you angry?”

  Oliver said, “I’m not angry.” He started driving.

  Nikki said, “I know you, Oliver. You’re angry. You’re always angry.” Her voice was like melted chocolate and brandy, and it seemed to Oliver that she was working him a little.

  Oliver said, “Stop doing the voice. I’m not one of your…”

  “Not one of my what?”

  Oliver said nothing, with as much emphasis as he could manage.

  She said, “This is because of my work.”

  “It doesn’t bother me. I’m not pretending not to be bothered, it just doesn’t bother me.”

  Then he said, “I know saying that sounds like I’m bothered…”

  “But you’re not.”

  “Right.”

  Nikki said, “If I say I agree with you, that you’re not bothered, can we start again?”

  Oliver said, “I’m angry with myself. Five years after we break up and you just clicked your fingers and I came running.”

  Nikki said, “It’s not five years.”

  Oliver said, “One of us has been counting. Trust me. It’s five years.”

  Nikki said, “It will be five years in August, but that’s not what this is about.”

  “Oh? You know do you?”

  Nikki said, “I deal with this a lot.”

  “Deal with what?”

  Nikki said, “I’ve had it a lot. Jealous boyfriends.�
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  Oliver pulled into the driveway for the marina. There was a car in front of them at the barrier. He said, “I am completely fine about you doing what you do. Prostitute, escort, I don’t care anymore. It’s your choice.”

  Nikki said, “If this is too awkward, you don’t have to stay.”

  Oliver said, “This isn’t awkward at all.”

  He left the car in front of the barrier. “I said I’ll help you find Nadia and I will.”

  Nikki said, “Are you sure you’re in the right frame of mind for this?”

  But Oliver was already out of the car and marching towards the small guardhouse. He rapped on the Plexiglas window and the guard slid it open.

  Oliver said, “I want you to get in touch with Plutus and tell them I’d like to come aboard.”

  Oliver was a little surprised to see that the guard was a woman.

  She said, “Good evening, sir.”

  Oliver said, “Did you hear what I said?”

  “We are not allowed to originate any contact with any of the yachts. I can’t even say there is one called Plutus,” said the guard. “Anyways, you got to be invited.”

  Holmes said, “What if there was an emergency?”

  The guard sat back in her chair. “But there isn’t.”

  Holmes said, “A young woman is missing. That’s an emergency.”

  The guard said, “If it’s true, then it’s a police matter. You’re not police. Listen to me.” She bent in close, trying to play good cop/bad cop all on her own. “Lot of our clients here want privacy. They don’t want anybody and everybody getting in touch with them. That’s why they have the yacht. Privacy.”

  A couple of cars had pulled up at the barrier behind Oliver, waiting to get into the marina. Someone bipped his horn. The guard said, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I got to let these people in.”

  Holmes said, “I want to see the dock master.”

  The guard said, “You don’t, mon, you really don’t.”

  Holmes ignored her and ducked under the barrier. It was dark now and the bright lights of the bar and restaurant seemed to be the place to start looking. As he left, he heard the guard calling for back-up. Nikki was nowhere to be seen.

  Two security guards came running towards him, keen to get a little action. They had belts full of stuff that slapped against their legs as they ran. The first one shoved Holmes back a couple of paces a little harder than he needed to and told him to leave. Holmes started to answer back. The guard put him in a headlock so Holmes allowed himself to be escorted from the marina.

  When they got back to the gatehouse, Nikki was leaning against Oliver’s car that she had moved out of the way of the entrance. She was watching with that slim smile on her face. One of the guards gave Oliver a shove, and he stumbled a few paces, turned and exchanged words with the guards.

  They watched him walk over to Nikki, waiting for him to drive away.

  Oliver said, “Guess what. They think I’m a prick too.”

  “And they hardly know you.”

  Oliver said, “I’m sorry. I screwed that one up. Maybe you should have tried some of your charm.”

  Nikki said, “Maybe not.”

  “What?”

  Nikki said, “While you were chit-chatting with the guard on the gate, there was a young woman in a car behind us. She’s a stewardess on Plutus. Once she found out we were looking for Nadia, she said she had something to talk to me about.”

  Oliver said, “Where is she?”

  Nikki asked him if he had seen the tender at the dock. Holmes admitted he hadn’t seen much of anything from underneath the security guard’s armpit.

  “She was escorted onto it by a couple of thugs. They didn’t seem to want to let her talk to anyone.” Nikki waived a slip of paper at Holmes. “But she said she’ll talk to me at a bar tomorrow morning.”

  “Very smooth,” said Oliver. “But you wouldn’t have been able to do that without me.”

  Nikki kissed him on the cheek so lightly he felt it all the way down to his toes.

  17

  Eight o’clock Monday morning made it more than forty-eight hours since anyone had heard anything from Nadia.

  The webmaster had confirmed that Nadia hadn’t accessed her web page or social media sites since Friday. No-one had come forward to claim the reward and the only people who had rung the telephone number on the flyer were chisellers, trying to graft themselves a few dollars, or taxi drivers offering their services, plus a couple of religious nutters who thought that praying together might be the answer.

  The mood in the hotel was glum. Everyone was having trouble coming up with a reasonable explanation for why Nadia was still missing.

  Overnight, after a little internet research into the theory and practice of female escorts, Holmes had decided to call the three of them gold-diggers but not to their faces. Over coffee in the hotel lobby, Holmes wanted to know why none of them knew the name or details of Mr Miami. It was a slim chance, but maybe Nadia had hooked up with him and forgotten to keep in touch with her friends. The three women looked at him as though he was an idiot, although Ellie had only ever looked at him that way.

  “First thing is, we don’t share names or details of our clients,” said Nikki. “I mean, these girls are my friends, but you never know who you can trust when you’ve got a meal ticket.”

  Holmes hated the way she said “meal ticket”, but after last night, he had definitely decided to put his feelings about Nikki to one side. He had lain awake for ages in his hotel room two doors down from Nikki’s. He had told himself that even if she came knocking, he would send her away.

  Fortunately for Oliver’s self-control, Nikki didn’t knock.

  He said, “Why didn’t you get his name from the web guy? He must have access to all the details.”

  Ellie’s opinion of Holmes hadn’t improved overnight. She piled on the sarcasm as she said, “I wonder, why would a guy using an escort want to keep his name a secret? Duh.”

  Holmes said, “I wondered if maybe you were smart enough to have some security measures in place, but obviously not.”

  He and Ellie carried on nipping and snarling at each other until Nikki told them to stop.

  “This isn’t helping us to find Nadia,” she said.

  Ellie said, “Yeah, because he’s such a big help.”

  “And Miss Breadstick here is making life a lot more difficult than it needs to be.”

  Ellie said, “Is that a comment?”

  Nikki got in between them and said, “Stop it.” They stopped. Ellie muttered under her breath.

  Nikki said, “I need the two of you to work with each other for today. Hell, just this morning. Go to the docks, find someone to take you out to Plutus, that’s all you have to do.”

  Ellie said, “Wouldn’t it be better if Charlotte went with him instead?”

  Charlotte reminded everyone that she suffered terribly from sea sickness, so she couldn’t go out in a boat.

  “Didn’t seem to bother you on Friday night.”

  Nikki said, “She deals with the police, I meet the stewardess. Besides, I don’t think it’s such a good idea for me to go out to Plutus if Lobachev is still around. Surely it’s not too much to ask for you two to get along just for the morning?

  A really good put-down about Ellie’s lack of intelligence popped in to Holmes’ head, but for once he kept it to himself. He stuck out his hand, Ellie shook it. It was limp but it would do.

  Nikki said, “Let’s meet back here at lunchtime. Keep your phones on. I’ll tell you what happens with the stewardess. Are we good?”

  The four of them left the hotel at the same time, Charlotte and Nikki in a taxi, Holmes driving Ellie. She sat in the car seat all tensed up as though if she relaxed, she might catch something.

  18

  The fishermen were almost all ashore with their catch by the time that Holmes and Ellie got to the scruffy patch of shoreline that served as a base for the local fishing co-operative.

 
; A handful of fishermen stood around a big barrel of fish waste, gutting and de-scaling their catch. When Holmes asked if someone would take them out to Plutus, they were more interested in trying to sell him some fish.

  “I don’t want any fish or lobster or anything,” said Holmes, irritably. It wasn’t even nine o’clock and he was getting too hot in the full sun, and one of the more pushy fishermen was right in his face, waving a half-gutted fish, demonstrating how fresh it was by tugging at its innards.

  “Does anyone know anyone with a speedboat?” asked Ellie sweetly. She had originally waited in the car in the shade, but she could see that Oliver wasn’t getting anywhere and joined him next to the knot of fishermen.

  Her arrival had an instant effect. But it wasn’t the one she wanted. “I’ll rock you in my boat, baby,” one of the fishermen yelled, and he started making swaying, suggestive motions with his hips. That unleashed a storm of laughter and rude comments and more hip thrusting.

  A few metres away, two older men were sitting under an open-sided hut with a thatched roof. They waved at Holmes and Ellie to join them.

  They looked like Rastas and they were playing reggae loudly and drinking beer. They had some kind of status that kept the more bawdy fisherman at a distance. Holmes couldn’t figure them out, but then again, he didn’t care.

  “You want glass-bottomed boat?”

  Holmes said, “We don’t want to buy fish, or go snorkelling. We just want a ride out to a yacht.”

  “How much you pay?”

  Holmes said, “I don’t know. How much does it cost?”

  “How much you pay?”

  It took Holmes and Ellie more than half an hour to negotiate a price for a ride out to Plutus, and then another hour before the fisherman’s cousin’s friend actually turned up with the boat.

  He insisted on being called by his MC handle of Gingerman, the name being inspired by the tinge of Irish red in his beard. Before he would discuss anything about his boat, he proudly listed everywhere in the world that he had ever performed. He was one of those happy people for whom everything was the best ever.