by Sarah Kelly
CHAPTER 4
By the early evening, the police had deserted the beach and swept away every hint that it had been a crime scene. A young man from the hotel staff came by India and Xavier’s purple cottage to let them know. Xavier was lying on the hammock, reading, while India sat at the outdoor dining table, painting her nails a dazzling shade of gold. “We’re very sorry about any upset or inconvenience this has caused you,” he said in his lilting Grenadian accent, having introduced himself as Kieran.
“Oh, it’s no problem for us,” India said. “We’re just very upset for Charlie’s friends and family, of course.”
“And worried about Fitzgerald,” Xavier added.
They both looked up at Kieran to see his reaction. A frown curled his brow. He paused for a moment, like he was weighing up whether to speak. When he did, it sounded like something he’d been waiting to get off his chest. “I know. We all are. The friendliest guy in the world. No way he did that.”
“We didn’t think so either,” India said. “Do you have any idea who might have done it?”
“Can’t say so.” Kieran hovered by the door, looking eager to leave. “I mean, there’s some much less friendly people around here, that I would suspect first. Unless Fitzgerald was just pretending to be a good guy all this time. No,” he said, second guessing himself immediately. “That’s not possible. No. I don’t know who did it.”
Xavier shook his head. “It’s a tragedy.”
“For sure,” Kieran said, running his hand over the neat waves in his hair. “Horrible. To think she just wanted a run on the beach and got… Well, anyway, I have to go around to all the cottages now. Is everything okay otherwise? Do you need anything?”
“Oh, no,” India said with a smile. “We’re good, thank you.”
“Wonderful.”
“I think we should go talk to Tony the fisherman,” Xavier said when Kieran had gone. “I mean, he’s always down at the beach. Maybe he saw something.”
India got up from her chair, blowing on her nails. “Let’s go.”
“Or maybe…” Xavier said, as he swung out of the hammock carefully. He’d fallen flat on his face the first time he’d tried to do it and spilled his cocktail all over the verandah. He managed it neatly this time.
“Maybe he did more than just see something?” India guessed. “I was wondering that, too.”
Xavier put his book back inside and came out with the key. “It’s so hard to tell. Even after being involved in so many cases, I still find it impossible to see through people.”
“Me too,” India said, following him out of the gate and toward the stone stairs going down to the beach. “I guess because everyone’s different.” She felt a little spooked when she then said, “Every killer’s different,” knowing that a murderer was more than likely in their midst, even at that moment.
Once at the bottom of the steps, the warm air surrounding them and the breeze blocked by thick foliage, Xavier said, “I mean, Tony didn’t seem like a good guy or whatever, but what reason would he have for killing Charlie?”
“That’s what I’ve been wondering,” India said, touching a nail gingerly and finding it tacky to the touch. She blew on it again. “After everything we’ve seen, there’s one thing I know. It’s not always the obvious person, you know, the rude person or the hateful person. Sometimes the people that seem the nicest harbor the most secrets.” A silence fell over them then, somewhat uncomfortable. “That said, I still don’t think it was Fitzgerald.”
“Though we can’t rule him out,” said Xavier. “I’m totally with you on that he’s likely to be innocent, but even so. To be procedural, we have to keep him in the frame.”
“You’re right,” India said with a sigh. It was horrible to think that a person who had made them feel so comfortable could be a suspect. “Though in terms of motive, I can’t see he’d have one either.”
Xavier brushed his hands along the banana leaves as they walked. “I didn’t want to say this, but what if… I don’t know… one of them made an advance on Charlie and she rejected it, for example? Do you think that would have driven them to kill?”
“I just don’t know.” India took a deep breath, trying to clear her mind. Too many questions swam around in it, each clamoring over the others to be heard.
They made their way out onto the beach and instantly spotted the bright beacon orange of Tony’s fishing boat. It bobbed on the tide, empty.
“Where is he?” said Xavier, looking around.
India pointed to the end part of the beach that led onto the rocks. “Look.” Tony was there, talking to a couple, pasty white in their swimsuits, as they walked along the shoreline hand in hand. He had a bulky black backpack on.
“Let’s go and rescue those poor tourists,” Xavier said with a slight chuckle.
India gave him a wry smile as they set off across the beach. Though the sun was beginning to go down and throw long shadows everywhere, the sand was still hot with the blaze of the afternoon. It tickled the sides of India’s feet as she walked along in her flip flops.
As they got closer, it was clear to see the couple were beginning to get irritated with Tony.
“Hello there,” the man said, evidently glad to see someone else there. “This man, Tony, sells gifts for people back home. Have you thought of taking any gifts home for your family?”
India couldn’t help but smirk as she realized the man was trying to foist Tony on them so he and his wife could escape. “Sure,” she said. “What have you got for us, Tony?”
The man and woman hurried away and Xavier and India shared a look.
“Come, come,” Tony said, walking over to where sun loungers had been left out by their previous occupants. “I’ll show you.”
Xavier and India went over and watched him line up worthless trinkets along one of the loungers. India began to feel an empathy for him, as he obviously hadn’t much at all to his name. Then she felt that compassion cool as she recalled what Fitzgerald had said about him. Then, yet again, her feeling changed. She remembered that their beautiful vacation had quickly spiraled into a murder investigation. And in a murder investigation, no one’s word could be believed. Not even the nicest of people like Fitzgerald.
Xavier and India sat on a sun lounger opposite him. “We’ll talk gifts later, if that’s all right,” Xavier said.
Tony looked annoyed. “Then why did you say you wanted some?”
“We want to know if you know anything about the murder,” India said in a soothing tone. “We thought you’d be the best person to ask, since you’re here a lot of the time.”
Tony narrowed his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just what I said,” India said confidently, and with a smile. She thought that would be the best way to win his trust. “Now tell us, what do you know?”
Tony pinched a piece of skin on his arm. It looked like a nervous habit. “Well, the girl dead. The evil man Fitzgerald got taken away by the police. What else is there to ask?”
“Did you see anything yourself?” Xavier asked.
“Yes.” He looked at them, carefully expressionless.
It’s like getting blood out of a stone, India thought. “What did you see?”
“I come around the rocks there, on the boat,” Tony said, pointing. “Then I see the woman, dead, on the shore. And so I tie up the boat and run up to the hotel. To tell people.”
Xavier nodded, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. “But you didn’t see anyone else on the beach?”
“No. Just the dead woman and me.”
India wondered why he had such a matter of fact way about him when he was speaking of a dead body. “Didn’t it frighten you?” she asked. “Seeing her?”
Tony stuck his bottom lip out and shook his head. “Nah. Being a fisherman, you see things sometimes.” He looked down at the sand, and pushed a mound of it together with his sandals. “Being a person, you see things. It’s life, you know? Just life.”
That s
parked India’s curiosity. What had his life been like? But another question pressed more heavily on her. “There seems to be a… hostility between you and Fitzgerald. Why is that?”
Tony looked over the sea, one side of his mouth drawn up toward his nose, in an expression of disgust. A storm raged in his eyes. “Because he’s a bad man. And a liar. A thief.”
India and Xavier glanced at each other. That was almost exactly what Fitzgerald had said about Tony.
“He said you know each other from his grandmother’s town,” Xavier said.
“Yes.” He said nothing, still staring out to sea.
India dared to prod. “He said something about… Shirley King, was it?”
Tony shot to his feet and flung his arms out, furious. “That idiot always has something to say about Shirley Prince!” He stormed away from them with such a heavy step he sent sand flying, then marched back. “You will do well to listen to me. Don’t believe that man’s chat. Shirley Prince was my woman. And she drowned. And then this idiot goes around whispering to everyone that it was me that killed her. Even you two. How long have you been here?”
“One day,” Xavier said in a measured tone.
“Exactly,” Tony said, his chest heaving. “One single day. And already you take me for a murderer because of that man’s dirty stinking mouth. Huh!” He stormed away again, but came back more quickly this time. “How do you think it makes a man feel, huh? When his girlfriend dies, then the whole town thinks you did it but won’t say it to your face. I was not the best person. I am not Jesus. I never claim to be. But I am not a killer. Never.”
“Okay,” India said calmly. “We hear you.” Her first impression was that he was telling the truth.
“Now he will know what it feels like,” Tony said. “He will know.”
“What do you mean?” Xavier asked.
Tony sat back on the sun lounger in a jerky, rough movement. “He will know what it feels like to be accused. For everyone to think he is a murderer. Why do you think I do this on the beach, huh? It’s because everyone has this thing in the back of their mind about me, even if they smile to my face. So I cannot get a job. I can’t make money because no on will let me work for them. And it’s all his fault.”
A shocking thought dawned on India. “Did you… did you tell the police it was him?”
A small smile flickered at the edge of Tony’s lips. “Well, no. But I might have mentioned his name. In passing.”
Xavier looked at India, wide eyed. His voice was stern. “What did you say?”
“The truth. That his normal routine is to come to the beach very early. To check everything is okay for the owners.” He screwed up his face again. “They ask him to do all these other things any idiot can do and pay him extra money. And me? I get nothing.”
India’s mind raced. She didn’t know what was true anymore. “But how would you know it’s his normal routine, unless you’re also regularly on the beach?”
“Sometimes I come early, sometimes late. Depending on the weather. Early morning this morning there was rain. I came late.”
“But wouldn’t that make you as much of a suspect as him?” Xavier said, a frown furrowing his brow.
“Ah!” Tony said, packing up his trinkets into his backpack, his eyes shining as he looked over to the rocks. A young couple were climbing over, laughing. “See you later.”
“Tony, wait!” India said.
But he was already running across the sand toward the couple, backpack clutched in his hand.
Both India and Xavier let out long sighs, then looked at each other and laughed that they’d done so in unison.
“What do you make of that?” India asked him.
Xavier shook his head, eyebrows raised. “No idea.”
“Me either.”
“Are you as confused as I am?” he asked.
“Confuseder,” India said, giggling.
“No, I’m much more very confusededder.”
India gave him a soft punch on the arm. “Well, I’m the confuseddedest.”
“All right, you win.”
India flashed him a grin, though her brain was working in overdrive, trying to pick apart everything Tony had said. What was true? She rubbed on her neck to find her muscles were tender.
“You look like you need a massage,” Xavier said.
“Yep.”
He put his hand on her knee. “Why don’t we go to the spa, babe?”
“Good idea,” India said, taking his hand in hers and standing up. “Maybe some good pampering will help straighten out my brain.”
***
As it turned out, the spa was swamped. The Angel’s Dune Resort was a quiet, secluded sort of hotel, the kind of place that made the words tranquility and retreat come to mind. It had an intimate, boutique feel throughout, and the spa was no different.
Tucked away behind tall palms and blooming bushes, the Serenity Spa, as the wooden sign read, was like a luxurious wooden treehouse, propped up on stilts. The wide verandah wrapped around each side, and some of the therapy rooms had wooden shutters that opened out onto it. Getting massaged while listening to the birds singing, seeing lush green foliage in every direction, and feeling the breeze on your bare back and legs? India couldn’t think of anything more idyllic, as she imagined it. Plus, the warmth in the air wrapped around her skin and made her feel immensely comfortable.
“I’ll have the hopi ear candle treatment,” Xavier said to the well groomed woman at reception. He often had problems with his ears, with recurrent infections since he was a child, he’d told India before. And ever since his vacation with his parents and sister to Hawaii when he’d found the candles to work wonders, he always kept a lookout for the treatment.
India smiled at the woman, whose nametag read Priscilla. “And I’ll have a neck, back and shoulder massage, please.”
“Perfect,” Priscilla said with a smile. She looked down at a book, tracing with her finger. “Now, I can get you, Sir, in for the hopi ear candles now, but, Miss, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait for the massage. About a half hour. We only have two masseuses and they’re both working right now.”
“That’s okay,” India said. She gestured around at the beautiful nature flourishing around them. “I couldn’t think of a better place to wait.”
“Aah, another nature lover, I see?” Priscilla said. “You’re just like me. Well, out on the other side of the verandah, which you can’t see from here, there’s a waiting area with tables and chairs and magazines and such. There are a couple of ladies out there already, so you’ll be in good company.”
“Wonderful, thank you,” India said. Xavier touched his hand on India’s back and she leaned in to kiss him. “Have a good time, Zave.”
“See you in a bit,” he said, then followed Priscilla down a wooden hallway.
India took a deep breath, trying to savor the natural, clean air. The smell there was intense – of sweet flowers and natural wood and fresh leaves and sea breeze. She stood with her hands on the wooden verandah railing, wishing she could bottle up the scent and take it home with her. The late afternoon sun cast a golden glow upon everything, making the colors somehow more rich and intense.
She took a mental image of the scene, trying to memorize the deep feeling of peace and safety she felt, more than every precise detail. She filed it away in the back of her mind and knew she could recall it, still shimmering and vivid, whenever she needed to. That was another little perk of psychosorcery Luis had passed onto her – the ability to save blissful moments in time like her mind was a hard drive. If she felt down or depressed, all she had to do was open up that file and whoosh, she was fully transported to that moment in what Luis called the ‘astral realm’.
“To be a really powerful witch,” Luis had said, pushing his currently blond mop of hair out of his eyes as they had walked together in some Florida woodland, “you have to get control over your emotions.” He had then spelled out something she’d found quite alarming – that emotions actua
lly had consequences far beyond what she had ever imagined. For example, a typhoon in Indonesia was linked back to an Oblivious in Houston, Texas, with all the rage she kept inside against her abusive ex-husband. India wondered with horror what catastrophes she had caused as an Oblivious, a witch who was not yet made aware of her powers.
“Emotion is a messy, messy thing,” Luis had continued. India remembered how the light had been streaming through the canopy, reflecting in his green eyes. “And it just spills out all over the place, hurting people it wasn’t meant to. But as a witch, you have to be above that. You can feel your emotions, sure, but only honestly. That means no taking it out on anyone else, ever, even in the slightest way.” India had never been a bully or anything like that, and she thought that meant she’d pass by his criteria, but it turned out he referred to a much deeper level of control. “And,” he’d gone on, “the ideal is to be able to feel at will. To switch emotions on and off as you please. And mental image switching is the best way to be able to do that. Anytime you feel something awesome, sink into that feeling as deeply as you can so it imprints heavily in your subconscious. Then you can recall it when you’re in a place of trouble, and boom, you’re back in the game.”
So that’s just what India did, sink deep deep deep into the feeling of comfort and warmth and blissful contentment she somehow found herself in, knowing there would be difficult and stressful times ahead. But when she could recall these memories of how good life could really be, of how out-of-this-world paradise truly existed, she knew she couldn’t be fooled into despair. “The greatest illusion,” Luis had warned her, “and the most powerful lie that can grind anything and anyone to a stop – human or witch – is that there is no good in this world. That there is no hope. And it’s just not true, India.” Passion had risen up in his voice. “It’s just not true.”
CHAPTER 5
India had a sneaking suspicion about whom she’d see when she turned the corner, but tried not to put too much stock in it – Luis had made clear that seeing into the future, even two minutes ahead, was not so easy as the crystal ball toting, turban wearing fakes made out.