Island of Secrets

by Karen Abbott

Hugo stared at her, his face registering first shock and then compassion.

  “Come with me. Let’s find somewhere to talk.”

  He had already changed out of his wet-suit and was dressed in shorts and open-necked shirt. He took hold of Gini’s hand and guided her to one of the many pavement cafés that filled the small town. He chose a table to one side, indicating that Gini should sit with her back to the other customers. She was grateful for that. She knew she was close to tears again, but hoped to be able to stifle them.

  A waiter was quickly at their side. Without asking Gini what she would like he ordered a sea-food rice-salad for them both and a bottle of mineral water.

  “Is that all right?” he queried.

  Gini nodded.

  “Yes. I don’t think I could read the menu right now,” she admitted. “Thanks for understanding.”

  “It is what friends are for. Do you want to tell me about it?”

  His face was full of tender concern. Gini was almost afraid to tell him in case he thought badly of her. After all, what did he really know about her? She sighed helplessly. She knew that, if their friendship were to continue, she had to be open with him. His reaction was his own prerogative.

  “Yes,” she said in a small whisper.

  The waiter returned with their plates of salad and their drinks. Gini waited until he had left them alone before she began. Toying with the food, she haltingly told him about the letter, the shock of the accusation, the shame she felt, even though she knew she was innocent.

  “And your family? What do they say?” Hugo asked softly.

  “They believe me,” she whispered. “We are a close family. We stick together.”

  His right hand reached out to cover hers that was twiddling her fork.

  “And did you expect less from me?”

  Startled, she looked up. There was hurt in his eyes. She was instantly contrite.

  “No. Not really. But you don’t know me all that well. You must have doubts.”

  “I know you well enough, I think. Of course I believe you.”

  He questioned her in detail, jotting down the gist of her answers on his paper napkin.

  “Why are you doing that?” she asked, surprised by the thoroughness of his questions and his meticulous jotting down of her answers.

  “I …”

  He stopped and started again.

  “You get to know many people on the surfing scene. I might find someone who may be able to help you.”

  He tucked the paper napkin into his shirt pocket and smiled.

  “Come on, cheer up. Even if we cannot prove your innocence, it’s not the end of the world. They can’t prove their side of it. I think they are trying to frighten you into an admission. So don’t play their game.”

  “But it will spoil my reputation, my good name.”

  He smiled again.

  “From what I have seen of your work, your reputation is secure. As for your name, you can always change it!”

  He was laughing, trying to cheer her up, but she looked at him sharply, wondering how flippant he was really being. His eyes were twinkling now and she felt the black cloud that had hovered over her all morning swiftly dissipating.

  She realised with a shock how important it had been to her that Hugo should believe her. Was that because he was important to her? She felt her hand trembling under his. He seemed to have forgotten that he was still holding on to her. She suddenly wished they were on their own. She wanted to feel the strength of his arms around her; the touch of his strong body against hers. Her lips tingled as she looked at his face, his sensuous mouth still smiling at her.

  She felt a warm tingling course through her body and she laughed. It was her first laugh since the letter had arrived. She felt better already.

  “That’s better,” he smiled, releasing her hand. He picked up his fork to spear a juicy king-prawn. “Eat up! I’ve such an appetite, I’ll be starting on yours if you don’t!”

  She didn’t stay for the remainder of the day, though she would have dearly loved to. Why had she hung back the other day, afraid to trust her heart? Hugo wasn’t playing with her emotions for some selfish reason. He liked her; he cared. She knew he did.

  And she liked him. Was it only ‘like’? she wondered. She knew it was more but didn’t feel ready to even say so to herself. There would be time enough for that, she was sure.

  They agreed not to meet that evening. Tomorrow was the final day of the surfing competition, followed by a celebration barbecue on the beach. Hugo wanted to be well-rested and Gini now felt up to continuing to work on her designs. She had asked Madame Ridureau to come for a final fitting of her wedding outfit later in the afternoon and, if it fitted as well as she expected it to, she could start on the hand-painted design. She was now brightly optimistic that things would be sorted out. No-one could prove her guilty, because she knew she wasn’t—and she would prove her ability by creating more designs.

  Gini had intended to join Louise in the shop at the end of the day. Since it was Saturday, they expected more casual customers drawn in from the attractive small port. However, since Madame Ridureau’s outfit was a splendid fit, Gini was eager to paint the design. Simone offered to go instead.

  Gini had painted a few designs onto cotton copies of the outfit and Madame Ridureau had chosen the one she liked best. Gini approved her choice and she felt ready to paint on the silk. She had practised on scraps of the fabric and had the ‘feel’ of it. She wanted to be alone, so that her concentration wouldn’t be distracted away from the task, so Saturday evening was a good opportunity.

  It was pleasantly cool in the work-shop and Gini painted contentedly, her mind temporarily free from the trauma of the morning. When she had finished, she stood back and surveyed her work. It was good. She knew it herself. She had achieved the balance in the design that she had planned. Tomorrow, when the paint was absolutely dry, she would remove the layers of protective material, at present under the top layer, and would hang the complete garment on the dummy-model.

  She cleared everything away. She always insisted that everyone else did so too, as she hated to come in to a messy work-room first thing in the morning. It was the same with the shop—and Louise and Simone had known her long enough to clear up without a reminder.

  She entered the house and made her way first of all to the kitchen, where the family tended to gather for some supper. She would have a quick bite of whatever was available, then a nice long soak in the bath. Her shoulder muscles ached from bending over the table. She greeted her parents and Jean-Claude as she pulled out the fastener that held back her hair and tossed her hair loose and free behind her, stretching her neck as she did so. Ah, that felt good.

  “Where’s Christi?”

  “She’s having an early night. She has been feeling tired today. It has been so hot. No, no. she is all right,” Marie continued at Gini’s look of alarm. “And Luc is still out. He’ll be getting a ticking off when he returns!”

  Gini laughed with the rest of them. Luc had joined his friends at a local disco, stretching his curfew as long as he dared.

  She heard the laughing voices of her two friends outside the window, returning home after closing the shop. They had parked her car and were obviously chuckling about something.

  “Just let her tell us off again!” she heard Louise say with a laugh. “I took a photograph of it to prove our point.”

  “What are you two up to?” Gini asked as they entered the kitchen still laughing.

  “Not us! You!” Simone declared, the backs of her hands on her hips in mock indignation.

  “All right! What have I done to merit this?” Gini asked, knowing from their laughter that it wouldn’t have anything to do with the accusation of cheating.

  “You! Tidy miss! So much for your ‘A tidy end is a tidy start’! What had you been doing? Building sand castles?”

  Instantly, Gini was alert. “What do you mean?”

  Louise spread her hands in an exaggerated gest
ure. “The floor sand in the corner. Ooh, la la! You should have seen it, everyone!”

  She swept her laughing glance around the kitchen, acknowledging their approval of her friendly reproof with a nod of satisfaction. They all knew Gini’s insistence on tidiness.

  Louise’s smile faded as she became aware of Gini’s reaction.

  “What’s the matter? We are only teasing you. I tidied it up in no time at all.”

  “What exactly was it like?” Gini demanded sharply. “Which corner?”

  “By the front window, away from the door. It wasn’t that bad. We just were just letting you know we had caught you out.”

  Gini shook her head.

  “No. I left it tidy. I know I did. But it isn’t the first time the sand has been disturbed overnight. I think we have had an intruder.”

  “Or a mouse!” Georges suggested with a smile. “I know what you young ladies are like over a mouse. Your mother could win the high-jump in the Olympic Games if someone tossed a mouse in front of her!”

  His joke raised a smile but Gini shook her head.

  “It would be a big mouse who could lift the duck-board. Did you look underneath, Louise?”

  “Well, yes. I smoothed it all down again and redistributed it around. But, how would someone get in? Both doors were locked. I checked, just in case. I only thought you hadn’t tidied up as well as usual.”

  “That’s a good point,” Gini agreed. “Someone must have a key. Did Jacques return his, Jean-Claude?”

  Jean-Claude nodded.

  “Yes. They’re on the key-rack over there.”

  “Could someone have used them?”

  “Only one of us. They’re unmarked. No-one else would know what they are for. But what was the purpose of the intrusion? Had anything else been moved? Was anything missing?”

  “Not as far as I could tell.” Louise was sounding anxious. “What about the previous time, Gini? When was that? You didn’t mention it.”

  Gini thought back.

  “Oh, I know! It was the day Yvette telephoned telling me about the competition.”

  She grimaced ruefully at the memory.

  “I forgot about it later. It didn’t seem important. It just looked as though some sand was missing.”

  “Well, this time, they’ve brought it back!” Louise declared. “There was too much sand this time.”

  “Or something hidden in the sand,” Jean-Claude said slowly.

  All eyes swung round to face him.

  “But what game is this?” Marie queried. “They take something out. They put something back. What is the purpose of that?”

  “It depends on what the ‘something’ is,” Jean-Claude again pondered aloud. “What would be something someone hides and then takes away?”

  “Except it was the other way round,” Simone objected. “Something taken away and then brought back.”

  “Then, if that is the case, at some point, whoever has put it there will come back to retrieve it,” Jean-Claude surmised. “I think we need to notify the authorities.”

  Silence fell, as everyone considered the impact of his words.

  “What do you think it might be?” Gini asked. “Stolen property?”

  “Possibly. Or drugs. Or some form of contraband. Who knows! But I think the police ought to be the ones who investigate. Not us.”

  The four women looked alarmed, only then realising the possible danger involved.

  “It might be just youngsters,” Gini suggested. “It might be a lot of bother over nothing.”

  “I quite agree,” Jean-Claude conceded. “But I think we should let the police decide that, don’t you?”

  The rest of them could do nothing other than agree with him.

  Chapter 8

  None of them slept soundly that night.

  Georges telephoned the police authorities, telling of the incident and their fears of what might be involved. Far from dismissing their fears as being over-dramatic, the man at the other end of the phone took Georges’ words very seriously.

  The crime rate on the island was extremely low but there was always the likelihood of someone taking advantage of that fact. A plain-clothes officer, who introduced himself as Inspector Tessier, was with them within the hour, taking down details of the first incident from Gini and the second one from Louise.

  “What are you going to do?” Gini asked, when all the questions came to an end.

  The inspector paused.

  “I can’t say, right now. I don’t think it would be a good idea to swoop down with sirens blazing. For all we know, the culprit might be keeping a watch on the place. Just in case, that’s as far as we’ll go for tonight. What I need to set up is a way to get a number of officers inside the building without drawing attention to it. Any ideas?”

  He looked around the group of shocked faces.

  “We don’t get many male visitors,” Gini murmured hesitantly, “but we do know a group of young men, who might be able to help. They sometimes call in to see us.”

  She gave a few details about the group of surfers.

  “Could it be any of them?” Inspector Tessier asked immediately.

  “No! Of course not!” Gini said, shocked by the suggestion.

  “There’s no ‘of course’ about it,” the inspector replied sharply. “Anyone involved in illegal deals, whether it be drugs, theft or contraband, will have built an acceptable history for himself. Have no doubts about it, we could be dealing with very clever criminals here. Could any of these young men have had access to the key? You said there was no sign of a break-in. It must have been by through the door—and not many people can get through a locked door.”

  Gini caught her breath. Jacques had had a key, though it now hung on the key-rack on the wall. All of the group had worked with Jacques on the clearing and cleaning work. Had Jacques always been with them? Could it be Jacques himself? Or …?

  Her hand flew to cover her mouth. Hugo had borrowed the key to surprise her with the completion of the thatched rack-covers! No! He had nothing to do with it! He couldn’t!

  The inspector was still waiting for her response.

  “This is horrible,” she said aloud. “It makes us suspect our friends and colleagues.”

  The inspector was sympathetic.

  “Crimes such as what this might be are always ‘horrible’, as you put it. That is why we must solve it as soon as we can. Then the innocent are cleared and you can resume your normal life.”

  “We don’t even know it is anything sinister, yet,” Gini objected again.

  “True, but you must admit there is a distinct possibility. When would you normally expect to open up next? Tomorrow?”

  “Yes. In high season, Sunday can be quite busy.”

  “What time?”

  “About ten o’clock.”

  “Right. I don’t want to involve the young men you have named. I’ll have a couple of women officers there as early customers. Would it be feasible for a number to go in and some remain behind, maybe in the small back room you mentioned? They’ll know if any genuine customers are amongst them. When you get the ‘nod’, make an excuse to close the shop for a while and lock it up again. Go for an early lunch, or something. Would that be your normal pattern?”

  Gini, feeling greatly dismayed to think that Hugo was now under suspicion, shrugged slightly.

  “Sometimes. Some days, we work right through, if any customers are around but it wouldn’t be too unusual.”

  He jotted down a few more details and snapped his notebook shut as he stood to leave. As he reached the door, he turned round.

  “Don’t mention this to anyone, not even your employee, Jacques. We’ll find out what we’re dealing with first. Right! We’ll see you again tomorrow then. Sleep well!”

  Whether or not the rest of them slept well, Gini didn’t know. She certainly didn’t. They were thinking it could be Hugo or one of the other young men. Hugo was their unappointed leader. If any of the other guys were involved, Hugo had to kn
ow about it. He had arranged the times they worked; he had had the key. Had he made a copy? Would the police be able to prove it?

  Should she warn him? But how? She didn’t know where he stayed. He’d said that he slept on the beach but which one? Boyardville? Le Grand Village? St. Trojan?

  But, warning him would be very wrong! If he were guilty, he needed to be stopped.

  Heavens! What was she thinking? It wasn’t Hugo! It couldn’t be! And, even if it were, she didn’t care. She loved him.

  That sudden realisation shocked her but she knew it was true. She loved him and had done so from the start. She had tried to fight it, to protect herself from being let down again, but she could fight it no longer. She loved him!

  How did he feel about her? She hadn’t given him much encouragement during the last few days. What if he didn’t care as much as she did? What if he believed the accusation against her? He was bound to have doubts about her, just as she had about him.

  The very thought increased her despondency. Confused and worried, she tossed and turned for ages. When she finally fell asleep, she slipped in and out of troubled dreams.

  It was already after nine o’clock when she opened her eyes the following morning. The sun was streaming through the window. She groaned as she rolled out of bed and staggered to the bathroom, hoping it was empty. It was. Everyone else was up before her.

  Five minutes later she rushed into the kitchen.

  “Why did none of you waken me? We told the police we would open at ten.”

  “Sorry! I did call and you answered,” Louise said, as she bit into a croissant. “We’ve got plenty of time. Isn’t it exciting? You don’t think Dominic has anything to do with it, do you? Are we all going to the shop?”

  “No … no … and it’s up to you if you want to go in today.”

  “Pardon? Oh, I see. Well, are you going?”

  “Yes. I feel I have to. It’s my shop. Where’s Luc, by the way? I was thinking we ought to try and keep him out of it, if we can.”

  “That’s already seen to,” her mother replied. “He telephoned last night, very late, I might add, to ask if he could stay overnight at Robert’s house. I only hope your father didn’t agree too readily, to make him suspicious!”