‘Sir,’ Camille said. ‘I know this man in the photos. He’s muscle for one of the island’s illegal bookmakers.’
‘Blaise hangs out with illegal bookmakers?’ Fidel asked, amazed.
‘Or one of their enforcers,’ Camille said, inspecting the photo carefully. ‘She seems to be giving him something. I don’t imagine it’s legal, whatever it is.’
‘And not just that,’ Richard said, laying the contracts out on his desk. ‘These documents seem to suggest that she’s also been laundering hundreds of thousands of dollars into a secret offshore account.’
Richard and Camille looked at each other, both of them trying to equate the box of new evidence with the woman they’d met after her husband was shot dead.
‘She’s a criminal?’
‘It would seem so, Camille,’ Richard said, returning his attention to the front of the shoe box. ‘Although that’s not the question I want answered. Because what I really want to know is, who just sent all of this in to us? It’s obviously an attempt to discredit Blaise, but where has it come from, and why did it arrive this morning? Fidel, can you dust all this for fingerprints? In particular, I want you to know if Pierre Charpentier’s prints are on the box or evidence anywhere.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Fidel said.
While Fidel started working on the box, Richard and Camille drove up to Blaise’s house.
They found her sunbathing by her pool – like all grieving widows, Richard thought to himself drily as he and Camille approached.
‘Oh hello, what are you doing here?’ she asked, lowering her sunglasses.
‘We just wanted to know why a box of incriminating evidence has just arrived at the station.’
‘How do you mean . . . incriminating?’
‘It seems to be a fair amount of paperwork proving that you’ve been siphoning funds offshore. And there are photos of you handing over a package to a man we know has connections to illegal bookmakers on the island.’
Blaise looked at the Police expectantly, and when they didn’t say any more, she seemed disappointed.
‘That’s it?’ she said.
‘What do you mean, “that’s it”?’
After a moment, Blaise clapped her hands together, threw back her head and laughed, although Richard couldn’t help but notice that her amusement was shot through with a degree of hysteria.
‘Some incriminating photos and some contracts I signed?’ Blaise asked again.
‘Why’s that so funny?’
‘I’ll tell you why that’s so funny,’ Blaise said. ‘Because I told Jimmy earlier this year I wanted to leave him. Since you’re asking. And what was more, I told him I was going to take him to the cleaners financially. As is my right. I’ve given that man my life and all he’s done is bed every tart he can find. And when I went to see a divorce lawyer, he agreed with me. I’d been with Jimmy from before he started building up his business, so I had every right to half his entire estate. So I could leave my husband, and take quite a few million dollars with me. But I didn’t dare tell Jimmy for a spell after that. Even though I was desperate to get away from him. I was so scared of how he’d react. And I’d tell myself every day that this was the day I was going to tell him. It was all over. I was leaving. Anyway, I knew he had some new woman, because I caught him going to the Fort Royal Hotel a few times, and I know that’s where he beds his bits on the side.’
‘Do you remember when this was?’
‘I don’t know. It was something like six months ago.’
Richard realised that this probably meant that the ‘bit on the side’ that had precipitated Blaise’s actions was almost certainly Natasha Gardiner.
‘And I realised I could take no more,’ Blaise said. ‘So I packed a suitcase, took out a wodge of cash from the house safe, and confronted Jimmy in his office. After I’d told him that he’d been unfaithful for too long, and that I was leaving him and starting divorce proceedings, he didn’t say anything. Not for a bit. But there was a smirk on his face. Like he was pleased or something. And then he told me that he was happy for me to walk out on him. Even though it was my duty to stay. As his wife. I couldn’t believe it. He managed to make it all about him. How I’d be letting him down. He took no responsibility for his part in all of this. But I didn’t care, I just wanted out. And that’s when he told me what would happen if I left him. You see, he’d been preparing for this moment for years, he said.
‘And he was so pleased with himself when he explained it all to me. He said he’d made me sign a number of documents over the years that made it look as though I was a crook. And while I was reeling from that little revelation, he reminded me of the time he asked me to deliver a package to a bloke in Honoré harbour. I’d had no idea what was in the package, but Jimmy told me it had been a package of fake passports, and he’d hired a private investigator to follow and record the whole exchange.
‘So that’s why I laughed just now. Because Jimmy told me he had loads more evidence against me like that, and if I ever tried to leave him, he’d make sure it landed in the Police’s hands. I had to stay with him or I’d go to jail.’
‘He blackmailed you into staying with him?’ Camille asked.
Richard felt a little uncomfortable hearing of Blaise’s blackmail so soon after his own brush with the dark art the night before with Dwayne.
‘That’s exactly what he was doing,’ Blaise said. ‘I didn’t know what to do. And a man like Jimmy feeds on fear. As soon as he saw I wasn’t sure any more, he started acting like he’d won and I wouldn’t leave him. And he was so confident. I sort of believed he must be right. I couldn’t leave him. Ever. Because of the incriminating evidence he’d lodged with his solicitor.’
‘He said it was with his solicitor?’
‘That’s right. He’d left a package, he said, and if I ever tried to leave him, his solicitor was instructed to release the information to the Police.’
‘Then what if he died?’ Richard asked.
‘How do you mean?’
‘Did your husband instruct your solicitor to release the information if he died? Maybe in suspicious circumstances?’
Blaise was shocked by the idea.
‘I don’t think so. That’s pretty warped.’
‘You really didn’t know we’d receive the package?’ Richard asked, wanting to be sure that Blaise had been entirely clear in her answer.
Blaise seemed to understand the importance of the question.
‘I didn’t. And you should know, I’ve never done anything wrong. Or, the only thing I’ve done wrong is sign a bunch of documents that Jimmy told me I should sign. I didn’t know what they were about. He just told me it was to make our money more tax efficient. So I signed.’
‘Without reading the document?’
‘Of course not. Who reads financial documents? They’re boring. And as for that package I delivered to Honoré harbour, I had no idea what was inside it. Jimmy was away, and he asked me to go to his office and get the package from the safe and take it to a contact of his in Honoré.’
‘But you must have guessed the contents weren’t entirely legal?’
‘Okay, maybe I guessed they weren’t quite legit. But I didn’t care. As far as I was concerned, I didn’t know what was inside, so I was just doing as Jimmy asked me. That was all. And the thing is,’ Blaise said, sliding her shades back on and leaning into the cushions of her sun lounger, ‘you can try as hard as you like, but I wasn’t a crook. So I know you won’t be able to dig up anything that’s really incriminating. It will only be evidence that Jimmy planted to discredit me.’
Richard looked at Blaise and realised that if she was going to deny everything and blame her husband instead, then it was possible they’d never be able to make any kind of case against her, seeing as her husband was no longer alive to give his side of the story. And as he thought this, Richard couldn’t help noticing that things had turned out very well for Blaise. The man she hated was dead, and she’d just inherited his fortune.
Yes, things had turned out very well for Blaise indeed.
As he and Camille left the house, Richard felt a deep sense of anger bubbling up inside him. He’d never known a case where they’d spent so long getting nowhere. They hadn’t even managed to identify where their killer was hiding, for heaven’s sake. And how could they ever arrest Pierre if they didn’t know where he was?
The rest of the day didn’t improve Richard’s mood. Camille was able to speak to Jimmy Frost’s solicitor, and he confirmed that he’d sent in the cardboard box of information to the Police. He insisted that he had no knowledge of what was inside, he was just following the instructions that he’d been left by his client. He was to send the box to the Police if Blaise left his client, or if he died in suspicious circumstances. The man was also able to confirm that Blaise was the sole beneficiary of her husband’s estate.
As for the list of people who’d bought white pea shingle from the Bricolage over the last six months, Richard learned that Camille had so far only had time to ring a few of the names, so he reassigned the job to Fidel.
And all day long, Richard had a creeping sense of dread. This was because Dwayne had informed him that Amy was happy to meet him for a drink at Catherine’s bar that night. Or rather, as Dwayne explained to his boss, she didn’t much want to have a drink with Richard, but she was going to go through with it for Dwayne’s sake. Since he’d asked.
Richard hadn’t known what to say to Dwayne when he heard that Amy was just as doubtful of the whole endeavour as he was – other than that maybe she was more sensible than he’d first thought. After all, what on earth could they talk about? Dwayne? That didn’t even seem possible. But Richard also knew that he couldn’t wriggle out of the encounter, so he found himself, just as the sun was setting, sitting in Catherine’s bar at a table for one. Amy wasn’t due to arrive for a little while, so he decided to get some work done while he had his evening meal.
‘Well, hello there,’ the flamboyantly dressed Catherine said as Richard took his usual seat at one of the few tables that was inside the bar rather than outside in the sunshine.
‘Hello, Catherine,’ Richard said, pulling out the notes he’d got on the case and starting to spread them out on the little table to make it clear to Catherine that he didn’t want to make small talk.
As for Catherine, she could see that Richard was pretending to be busy, but, like her daughter, she’d decided long ago that it was her duty to ‘warm him up’ into a functioning human being, so she pretended she hadn’t noticed.
‘How was your day?’
‘It was terrible, thank you for asking. Now, could I have my usual, please?’
‘And why was it so terrible?’ Catherine said, sitting down in the other chair at Richard’s table.
Richard looked up from his notebook. Seeing as Catherine was Camille’s mother – and, more importantly, the owner of the nearest bar to the Police station – he couldn’t help but bump into her every day or so. But every time they talked, she had the annoying habit of always wanting to discuss his feelings. Richard would have stayed away from her entirely, but, in one of the great tragedies of his life, Catherine made the only decent cup of tea on the whole island, and she could even rustle up a halfway decent fried egg and chips. This was the meal that Richard had been referring to when he’d asked for his ‘usual’.
‘Why was my day so terrible?’ Richard replied, happy at least that the conversation wasn’t yet in any way ‘touchy feely’. ‘Well, for a simple reason, really. I’m trying to solve a double murder before a third murder is carried out, and I can’t even find where our prime suspect is hiding.’
‘You mean Pierre Charpentier?’
‘You know him?’
‘Oh no. But the whole island’s talking about him. Since your article in the paper.’
‘The whole island?’
‘The whole island. It’s frightening. Knowing a killer is out there. We’re all worried. And looking out for him.’
Catherine indicated one of the ‘Wanted’ posters that Dwayne had put up on the wall of her bar. It showed the head and shoulders of Pierre Charpentier.
‘And I’ve had a good think myself, and I bet I know where he is,’ Catherine said.
‘You do?’
‘I do. It’s obvious.’
‘Then where is he?’
‘Not on the island at all.’
‘I’m sorry? How can he not be on the island?’
‘Think about it! You know how it is on Saint-Marie. Everyone knows everybody. You can’t do anything without someone seeing you, or commenting to their neighbour.’
Richard agreed with Catherine’s analysis. The whole island was a hotbed of gossip as far as he could tell.
‘So it’s not possible that this killer is anywhere near Honoré. Someone would have seen him. Or seen a house that was suddenly occupied when the owner is supposed to be away. So what I’ve been thinking is, what if he’s not here?’
‘So where would he be?’
‘Out there,’ Catherine said pointing in the general direction of the bay and the sea beyond. ‘On a boat. I mean, he could be miles out at sea, and then come in to a secluded bay, slip onto the island, commit murder, and then return to his boat and go back out to sea. You wouldn’t know where he was.’
As much as Richard wanted to dismiss the idea on the grounds that it was Catherine who was suggesting it, he could see that there was some logic to it. Although, if Pierre was hiding out at sea, then that suggested that he had access to a boat. This seemed unlikely in the extreme, considering how Pierre had had next to no money when he left prison. So how had he bought a boat? Richard decided that he’d get Fidel or Dwayne to ask around and see if any seaworthy boats had been stolen since Pierre had left jail.
‘You agree?’ Catherine said as she realised that Richard was giving her suggestion some thought.
‘You know what, Catherine? That’s quite a good idea.’
‘It is, isn’t it?’ she said, and then she stood up again. ‘Now, let me get you your “usual”.’
As Catherine left, Richard decided to go back to the very beginning of his notes. This was something he did when he felt stuck in a case. He started reading, and was deep into the case when Catherine returned with a plate of food in one hand, and a cup of tea in the other.
‘Here you are,’ she said proudly. ‘Fried eggs with all the trimmings.’
‘Ah, perfect, Catherine, thank you,’ Richard said, and, as he looked at the chips and fried eggs with the edges of the whites crisped ‘just so’, he really meant it. The next few minutes were going to be the highlight of his day.
‘You know,’ Catherine said. ‘I saw Dwayne’s new girlfriend Amy outside.’
‘You did?’ Richard said, already panicking. She wasn’t due to turn up for half an hour.
‘So I told her you were here.’
Richard was appalled. What sort of traitor would allow some stranger to interrupt an Englishman just as he was tucking into his egg and chips?
‘Hello,’ a woman’s voice said.
Richard looked over and saw Amy standing in the doorway. She was holding a bottle of beer.
‘Well, I’ll let you two chat,’ Catherine said with a smile, and returned to the bar.
‘Sorry I’m early,’ Amy said.
‘No, no worries at all,’ Richard lied.
‘I thought I’d get a drink in first. For Dutch courage.’
‘You’d better sit down,’ Richard said, not entirely kindly. He refused to believe that he was the only person who’d noticed that in front of him was a plate of delicious hot food and a steaming cup of tea that was getting cold.
‘Thanks,’ Amy said, and sat down.
Oh, Richard thought to himself. He was the only one.
‘Dwayne said we should talk,’ Amy said. ‘Although I’m not sure why.’
‘Yes. He said the same to me.’
An awkward silence grew, and Richard began to wonder if he could p
erhaps eat one of his chips.
‘Although I do kind of know, I suppose,’ Amy said with a sigh. ‘You found out about my record.’
‘Yes,’ Richard said, and he removed his hand from where it had been hovering over his fork.
‘Even though it was fifteen years ago. And I haven’t been that person for a long time.’
‘You still served time,’ Richard said distractedly, his eyes once again drifting down to his plate of food.
‘Please don’t judge me. Can I at least tell you what happened?’
Richard realised he hadn’t quite been listening, and he looked up from his egg and chips.
‘What’s that?’
‘So I’m from Edinburgh. Do you know it?’
‘Edinburgh? Not really. Although, the tins of shortbread biscuits I get sent over from the UK have Edinburgh castle on them.’
‘Well, Edinburgh’s a bit more than the castle. And the bit of it I come from is probably the most conventional place in the world. It’s all families living in sensible houses and doing sensible jobs. Can you imagine being a teenager in that environment?’
Richard could. It sounded idyllic.
‘It was so boring. So conventional. Saturday night dinner parties, everyone sending their kids to the same schools, wearing the same clothes, having the same values. I wanted to scream. I felt trapped. So when I was a teenager and came across drugs, I couldn’t get enough. I was desperate to escape. To rebel. But then, my dad’s a doctor, and my mum’s a housewife. I think I just wanted to shock them out of their complacency.’
‘Well, I imagine you did that.’
‘The more outraged they got, the more outrageous I tried to be.’
‘And is that why you started dealing drugs as well as buying them?’
‘I left school at eighteen with no qualifications, and all I wanted to do was leave home. I had to get away, and it was my way of funding my own flat. That’s why I started dealing. And it was the biggest mistake of my life. Because that’s when I lost control. When I really started hanging out with some seriously dangerous people. I’m ashamed of how arrogant, how full of myself I was. I thought I was untouchable.’
Murder in the Caribbean Page 18