Caribbean Sunset with a Yellow Parrot (The Belchester Chronicles Book 5)

by Andrea Frazer

  ‘Good heavens!’ exclaimed Hugo. ‘This is getting to be more like work than a holiday. What about lazy days in the sun?’

  ‘You’ll have plenny of time for dat after she’s finished convincing you dat dere’s nowhere better on dis planet to live dan Caribbaya.’

  ‘If we don’t drop dead of exhaustion first.’ Hugo again came up for air from his close attention to some melon slices to give this opinion.

  ‘She just love dis place and want everybody else to love it too.’

  ‘And to sell her dratted houses,’ added Lady A. ‘No, no omelette for me today, Maria. I got away with it yesterday but I’m unlikely to be that lucky twice.’

  At this, Hugo nodded his head vigorously, and Maria gave him a Paddington stare. ‘So it was you dat had de trouble in de downstairs bathroom yesterday,’ she stated pointedly.

  ‘I’m so sorry. I meant to be up early so that I could do something about it myself,’ Hugo apologised, swallowing a mouthful of mango.

  ‘Never you worry, Mr Hugs. Dat’s my job, and visitors don’t usually make de same mistake twice,’ she informed him.

  ‘What did you call me?’ Hugo asked in indignation.

  ‘Why, what Miz Winterbottom tole me to call you: Mr Hugs.’

  ‘If you wouldn’t mind, I’d prefer it if you simply called me Hugo. It is my given name, after all.’

  ‘No worries.’ Maria was cool with that.

  There was no time for Lady Amanda to talk to Hugo about her worries after breakfast, as there was the tootling of a horn outside, and once more the battered old bus, Winstone Churchill at the wheel again, waited for them outside for today’s ‘adventure in paradise’.

  Many of the old girls were already assembled and climbing aboard as the occupants of number fifteen left the house, noticing that, once more, there was no sign of Douglas Huddlestone-Black. One would hardly know he was on the island, thought Lady Amanda as she, for the second day in a row, nicked the window seat. Maybe she should ask about him again. She knew he was there because she had seen him the night before. Probably.

  ‘Hey, Windy, where’s our Adonis? Is he not joining us for anything? This is a huge reunion, after all,’ she called to the front of the vehicle where Windy Winterbottom was sitting.

  ‘Actually, he’s scheduled to go home today,’ she called back.

  ‘What? But we’ve only been here five minutes,’ shouted back Lady Amanda in surprise. The engine of the old crate really was noisy.

  ‘That’s what he’s like. Sometimes he’s here for three or four weeks, others, it’s only a couple of days. The only way I usually know he’s gone is that I find the villa keys in my mail box.

  ‘So much for a holiday romance,’ was shouted from the back of the bus, followed by some giggling.

  ‘But we’ve still got dear old Hugs,’ came next, and that set everyone off except, of course, for Hugo and Lady Amanda, who thought this all rather childish. Just because they had all been at school together didn’t mean they could act like the children they had once been. Even if sometimes it seeped, unsought, to the surface.

  It wasn’t far to the market, but then nothing was far away on this small piece of land spewed out from the sea by a volcano, millennia ago. Evidence of this creation still existed in the mountain to the north-west.

  They heard the market before they saw it. Steel bands competed from different sides; traders shouted the superiority of their wares, children whooped and laughed as they ran and played, and the conversation of the women was, by necessity, at a high volume for them to be heard above the general cacophony.

  As well as assaulting the ears, the market was also a visual treat, being inhabited by myriad colours and patterns, wandering around as they were worn, or held up for sale. Every woman, it seemed, had on a blindingly bright kaftan and a matching head wrap, and these items were the main ones on sale, apart from fresh produce and locally made jewellery, a fair sample of which had turned up on Windy’s person since the beginning of their stay.

  Above all the other noise a high-pitched tinkling and jingling came from dangling earrings, bracelets for both wrist and ankle, and necklaces. This descant was joined by the clonking and chatter of wind chimes made out of both bamboo and shells, and added something unforgettable to the scene that they were all about to enter and try to merge into.

  After a couple of souvenir purchases, Lady A dragged Hugo off to a stand with some rough benches that sold coconut water and ordered two. The coconuts were served with just their tops cut off, and a straw added, and were very refreshing. In this haven in the maelstrom of commercial activity going on around them, Lady Amanda confided what she believed she had seen last night.

  ‘I don’t think you get hallucinations with weed,’ Hugo assured her, wondering where on earth he had picked up this interesting factoid.

  ‘Then it must be true. We must go looking for that boat he stashed when we can get away from “unsere Fuhrerin”,’ she decided. ‘It all looks very fishy to me. First we see him sneaking out of a high-class shop in the jewellery quarter when he wasn’t supposed to be going there. He doesn’t show at any of the social stuff, not even bothering to have a chat with us.

  ‘The only words he spoke to us were when I heard those very suspicious noises on the cruise ship on our way over here, and now Windy says he’s leaving today. Maybe we should try to get hold of the keys so that we can have a good nose round where he’s been staying. That man is definitely up to no good.’

  ‘If you’d only curb your impatience, we’re going to be taken round the houses tomorrow. Your old mate just wants to get on with making us fall in love with the place before she gives us the hard sell,’ replied Hugo, appearing much more worldly-wise than usual. It must be the heat, thought Lady Amanda. It had woken some of his dozing brain cells, like some sort of latter-day Frankenstein’s monster. If he started wearing a bolt through his neck she’d have to have a word with him.

  ‘You’re perfectly right, old stick,’ she agreed, without missing a beat. ‘And I’ll probably be able to get Windy on her own tomorrow, for whatever it is she wants to tell me, but never actually gets round to. Come on, let’s have another little toddle and see if there’s anything else we can’t live without buying before we have to get back on the bus.’

  ‘Where are we lunching?’ asked Hugo.

  ‘You do nothing but think of your stomach,’ commented Lady Amanda. ‘You’ve hardly finished breakfast and you’re already on to the next meal mentally. Actually, we’re going into the township for lunch, so there should be lots of local dishes to sample. I hope so anyway.’

  Hugo wasn’t as enthusiastic about local recipes, after his run-in with the Caribbayan hot sauce, and determined to check that it wasn’t in any of the dishes that he consumed. Last night and during it was an experience he never wanted to repeat as long as he lived, and he blushed with belated shame again at the state in which he had had to leave a certain piece of sanitaryware in the bathroom for Maria to find this morning.

  For the rest of their visit to the market, Lady A’s mind continued to mull over all the inexplicable or curious things that had happened since they had arrived. Had Horseface really been flirting with Short John, and had they set up a date? What had Adonis been doing out in that dinghy in the early hours, and who was the mysterious man watching his clandestine little sea trip?

  These and many other things raced round and round in her head until it was time to get into that old bucket of a bus again, to drive into the nearby township where Windy had told them they would pick up a local guide for their trip into the jungle.

  Lunch was an extravaganza of local produce and dishes, set out in the shade of a group of palms just off the township’s square, and provided delicious, if suspiciously spicy dishes, but Hugo was very careful what he ate. The meats, however, were melt-in-the-mouth tender, and the fish, although a little on the hot side, deliciously flavoured. The plantains were, as usual, moreish and filling, and all members of the group hoped t
hey weren’t expected to walk through the forest, as they’d all rather made beasts of themselves. Again.

  Winstone loaded a bus full of rather soporific passengers back into his care, and drove the few miles to the outskirts of the jungle area of the island where, fortunately, a couple of open-backed jeeps fitted with seats were ready to take them on their exploration into the mysteries of the wildlife, resident in the thick tropical growth. The island was certainly well-provided for with ways and means of getting that extra buck out of the day tourists, and evidently drives through a bit of the jungle were on the list.

  The two local drivers looked like twins, with their gold-toothed smiles and corn-rowed hair, and politely helped the old biddies up and into their seats for the trip. On the transfer from vehicle to vehicle, there had already been a few squawks of alarm at the insects, both in the air and on the ground, and it didn’t bode well for the rest of the afternoon.

  Although there were audible signs of life under the great canopy of trees, there were no visible signs of it, with the exception of a flock of brightly coloured birds that flew overhead, just below the level of the treetops, and there were many squeals and moans about those who had phobias about snakes and spiders. In fact, Wuffles seemed to have a phobia about all insect life, and spent the whole time she was jostled round in the back of the jeep bundled up into a ball of pure fear, her eyes tight shut, her fingers in her ears.

  The whole trip turned into such an unnerving experience that it was cut short, and they returned to the comparative safety of the bus in half the time they were supposed to be off it. The market may have been a colourful local experience, but the jungle was just too hardcore for most of the women. It was too alien an environment for them to either feel comfortable in or appreciate.

  Windy decided instead that they would grab their beachwear and get Winstone to take them to the lagoon, and she would instruct her house staff to make ready a picnic which could be driven down to them later. There were permanent barbecues built at the lagoon, and picnic tables and benches, so they needed nothing else except for provisions.

  The suggestion was accepted with sighs of relief, and when they got back to Parrot Bay, the old chums scuttled off with unexpected agility to collect what they needed. Windy followed Lady Amanda into her villa, and finally ’fessed up about what she wanted to consult her about.

  While Hugo was upstairs looking out what he needed, the ex-head girl pulled an envelope out of her handbag and just handed it to her old school chum, her face a blank. Lady A took out the single sheet of paper and unfolded it, to find a message made out of letters cut from what looked like a number of different publications. ‘I know what you are up to. I will be in touch,’ was all it said.

  ‘When did this come?’ asked Lady Amanda, turning it over to ascertain there was nothing on the other side of the paper.

  ‘The evening you all arrived here,’ replied Windy.

  ‘By post? What was the postmark?’

  ‘By hand.’

  ‘I see, so you think that one of us is responsible for it?’

  ‘I can’t see any other explanation, can you? The cut-out letters definitely don’t come from the island’s weekly newspaper; they seem to be from a variety of sources. How could it be a local?’

  ‘And what exactly are you up to?’ Lady Amanda was nothing, if not blunt.

  ‘Nothing for you to worry about,’ replied Windy, her eyes dropping and moving from side to side in a very guilty way.

  ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like to tell me?’ Lady Amanda’s curiosity was fully roused, and she scented a mystery coming on.

  ‘Oh, it’s nothing important,’ came the reply, and Windy once again scanned the floor on either side of her feet. ‘Nothing for you to worry about.’

  ‘Do you suspect anyone?’ It was time to get to the nub of the matter.

  ‘I did wonder if it was Fflageolet. Maybe in the intervening years since she used to help herself to our personal possessions, she might have progressed into more adult ways of making unearned money, blackmail being one of them.’

  ‘But it was proved that she never took that tennis bracelet. You found it yourself in the sink’s U-bend. It is possible that she’s grown out of the habit and this is from someone else entirely,’ countered Lady A.

  ‘I know. It’s just a feeling I’ve got. Hugo was talking about some adventures you’ve had together, solving crimes or something – I wasn’t really listening – and I wondered if you’d have a snoop round here, to see if you can unearth anything incriminating.’ Windy’s face wore a pleading expression and, as her request had appealed to her old friend’s rather large ego, Lady Amanda immediately accepted the commission, resolving to confide in Hugo as soon as she could, to see what he thought.

  As an after-thought, she asked if Windy had talked to the local police about it. ‘Well, that’s just the thing: we don’t have a police force as such. Although I referred to some of the band members the other night as “police”, what we actually have is an island security force, provided by the owner of most of the island. If anything serious happens, they have to bring real police in from the mainland.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Lady Amanda, an unusually short answer for her.

  As the bus disgorged them on to the shore of the lagoon, the sound of a retreating motorboat could be heard, disappearing up the coastline. Boats didn’t normally enter the lagoon, but there was some evidence that this one had, as its wake was still very slightly visible where the waters flowed through the narrow channel to the sea. Windy suggested that it might have been someone after a bit of fishing, and dismissed the subject, while the rest of the party stripped down to their swimming costumes.

  Lady Amanda set her towel down in the shade of a palm, and motioned Hugo to join her. This was the earliest opportunity for her to confide in him, and she fancied a bit of a gossip. Everything was always such a whirlwind with Windy that Lady A suddenly remembered that it wasn’t just her flatulence that had spawned her school nickname.

  She had just opened her mouth to start telling her tale of blackmail, when there was some furtive movement amongst the large ferns about ten yards away. Holding her right forefinger to her lips and nudging Hugo, she pointed, and they watched as a tall figure rose and made off slowly into the undergrowth, his progress soon masked by the gloom of the shady trees.

  ‘Now who, I wonder, was that?’ she asked in a hushed voice, lest the sound should carry. ‘He seemed somehow familiar, and yet unfamiliar at the same time.’ For a flash, she remembered again the watching figure she saw from her hiding place in the scented bush on the edge of the beach.

  ‘I know what you mean,’ replied Hugo, looking puzzled. ‘I thought at first it was someone we’d met, then it seemed that it wasn’t. I wonder why we both feel like that?’

  ‘So do I,’ replied Lady A, setting her mind to unravel this rather unusual event.

  ‘Do you think the boat was dropping off a local?’ asked Hugo, who thought he might have the answer.

  ‘You’d think so, but why, then, was he hunkered down in the ferns? Why didn’t he just walk away from the lagoon?’

  ‘Call of nature?’ suggested Hugo.

  ‘He would’ve been standing up … ooh, that sort of call of nature. I’m going over there to have a look,’ decided the intrepid Lady A.

  ‘Manda, that’s absolutely disgusting.’ Hugo wrinkled his nose in distaste.

  ‘No, it’s not. It’s what any detective worth his or her salt would do. I won’t be a minute.’ She was back very quickly. ‘Nothing whatsoever there, not even a whiff,’ she informed her companion, as he looked at her with disapproval.

  ‘How could you!’ he exclaimed.

  ‘Well, at least we know that whatever he was doing, he wanted to do it in private,’ she replied stubbornly. ‘He was up to no good, you mark my words. I just wish I could place who he reminded me of.’

  Hugo stayed out of the water because he didn’t fancy losing his trunks again and pleaded,
as an excuse, that the movement of the waves made him feel dizzy. Lady Amanda stayed dry too, as she explained that she had a hole in her ring. At this, there was an explosion of laughter from Hugo, and she looked at him in disapproval.

  ‘In my rubber ring, you fool. Really, old stick, you have a mind like a sewer at the moment. You’re getting as bad as that lot in the water.’

  ‘Sorry, Manda. I think the heat must be affecting my mind.’

  ‘I wasn’t aware you took it out of the house with you, in case you lost it,’ our intrepid investigator replied, and crossed her arms in triumph, as she trumped his ace.

  At number five Parrot Bay, Douglas Huddlestone-Black had just struggled downstairs with the last of his suitcases, about to ring for the local taxi to pick him up for his ferry to the next island where he would be able to catch his plane back to good old Blighty, when there was a soft knock on the back door of his villa.

  The top of it was obscure glass, so he could not define exactly who his visitor was, but it was certainly a tall person. With a sigh of exasperation at this interruption, he walked towards it and flung it open, looking up in surprise at the figure standing there. ‘Whatever’s going on?’ he asked in puzzlement, before a fist knocked him to the ground.

  Back in the villa that evening, the two of them were having a quiet time, with just the nearest they could find to a ploughman’s lunch for their supper – which included goat’s cheese instead of good, old, reliable Cheddar – when there was a banshee wail from outside, which got louder as it approached their property, followed by a thunderous knocking on the door.

  At the sound of a damsel in distress, it was Hugo who got to the door first, and Lady Amanda had a small smile of smugness at how successful the operations to replace his damaged joints had been, although they would never be perfect again. He was so much more mobile than when she had first found him, languishing in a third-rate nursing home, with nothing to look forward to other than his own death.

  It was in rescuing him that they had come across their first taste of solving crimes, and had been avid amateur sleuths ever since, Lady Amanda always on the hunt for something that needed her very special talent of sticky-beaking. And if all the little unexplained things that had happened since they embarked upon this holiday came to something, she reckoned this could be their fifth mystery, just waiting to be solved.