‘Not at all, not at all. Just finished. May I offer you a drink?’
‘No thank you sir, we’d just like to ask you a few questions if you don’t mind. It shouldn’t take long. Don’t want to make you late for the Polo.’
When the DI had telephoned Sir Ralph at his home, earlier that morning, he’d been given the choice of catching up with him either at the Yacht Club or at the Polo match being held that afternoon at Holders. Louis thought James had wisely chosen the former, as he knew it would be difficult to hold a private conversation during a polo match. He’d once been to Holders, in an official capacity, so he knew how well attended the polo games were, and how noisy. He remembered a colourful, well-dressed crowd, floating around with pre-match glasses of bubbly. The compere giving a witty running commentary, while the teams battled it out on the field. He’d been intrigued to see the ladies gleefully carrying out the age-old tradition of stomping on the divots at half-time. Each time fresh horses were mounted, and a new chukka commenced, there was much whooping and encouragement from the crowd. A quiet conversation would have been out of the question.
‘What’s this about, officer? I’m intrigued. Your colleague wouldn’t give me any details on the phone.’ Sir Ralph had resumed his seat and gestured for them to sit on the chairs opposite the low table that held his brandy glass.
‘First of all, sir,’ said the DCI, pulling a chair further away from the table to make room for his long legs, ‘I believe you come over to Barbados every year, to stay at your villa. Is that correct?’ Sir Ralph confirmed that it was. ‘I understand you usually come in January and stay until around the end of March or the beginning of April, would that be right?’
‘Yes, that’s quite correct.’
‘Can you tell me why you decided to come here in November this time?’
‘Certainly. My wife and I decided we’d like to spend Christmas out here for a change. Why do you ask?’
Ignoring the question, DCI Brown went on. ‘It’s concerning the events of the evening of the twenty-ninth of November, the night before last. Can you tell me where you were that evening sir?’
‘The night before last?’ he slowly repeated, , obviously casting his mind back. ‘That’s when that poor woman was attacked? Terrible business. Left for dead, I heard. Is that what this is about?’
‘We’re making some routine enquiries, sir. If you could just tell me where you were that night, and who you were with?’
‘Well, let’s see,’ he frowned and took a sip of his brandy. ‘I had a business meeting in Holetown, at seven thirty. It went on for about an hour, then I went straight home. Umm... I must have got back at around nine. Yes, I’m pretty sure that’s correct. Everyone was talking about the attack the next day – word spreads quickly around this island – and I remember discussing it with my wife then.’ He scratched the side of his nose with an index finger.
‘I’ll need the name or names of who your meeting was with sir? How did you get to Holetown and back? Did you drive?’
‘Of course. And, yes, I took my car.’
‘Will your wife corroborate what you have said about the time you arrived home?’
‘I should think so. But look, Officer, what is all this about? You surely can’t possibly think I had anything to do with it?’
‘Do you know a lady called Carol Barrington, Sir?’
Sir Ralph looked startled. ‘Carol? Of course. She runs our investment club in the UK. In fact, I introduced my friend Peter to her; the man she married. I was deeply saddened by Peter’s death last year. But, why? Surely to God it wasn’t Carol who was attacked?’ he looked astonished.
Either he’s genuine or a bloody good actor thought DCI Brown.
‘I’m not at liberty to disclose the name of the victim, sir.’
‘It has to be her. That’s why you’re asking the question. I had no idea she was on the island!’ he exclaimed. ‘We would have invited her over. Oh my god! Poor Carol! How is she now? We heard that the woman who’d been attacked is in intensive care? But her name wasn’t released. We had no idea who it was. We all assumed it was a tourist who’d rented the apartment. I just cannot believe it was Carol’. He seemed to be genuinely distraught.
‘Can you tell me when you last saw Carol Barrington?’
‘Yes,’ he spoke slowly. ‘It was at Peter’s funeral, last year. Poor girl, they’d been so happy together and then in the blink of an eye he was gone. She was absolutely distraught. And now this…’
‘Well, thank you sir. We won’t take up any more of your time just now, but we might need to speak to you again in due course. Just routine, you understand. Do you have any plans to leave the island in the near future?’
Sir Ralph said that he wasn’t planning to return to the UK until April at the earliest. He then confirmed that his wife would be at home if they wished to speak with her.
‘We’re on our way to speak to her now,’ said James, rising to his feet. ‘Oh, one more thing, sir, would you be prepared to supply a DNA sample? We’re taking samples from every male interviewed in this case.’
‘I really would rather not, if you don’t mind. You’ve already indicated that I’m not a suspect, so I don’t see the point.’
‘It helps in eliminating people from our enquiries, sir. But it’s entirely voluntary, so...’
Sir Ralph interrupted, with a note of finality. ‘In that case, I will not be volunteering.’
‘Very well, sir.’ James turned to leave.
‘Thank you for your time,’ said the DCI, extending his hand. ‘We’ll no doubt be in touch.’
Driving towards Sandy Lane Golf Club, Louis glanced at James, behind the wheel.
‘What did you make of him?’ he asked, adjusting his Foster Grants.
‘Bit bloody arrogant,’ said James, glancing in the rear view mirror as they approached a roundabout. ‘Strange, him not wanting to give a DNA sample. Could be hiding something. But, I think he was genuinely surprised when you mentioned Carol Barrington.’ He brushed his hair off his face.
‘Hmm... well, lets see what his wife has to say. By the way, you need to get that bloody hair cut.’ Louis grinned.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The villa was enormous, with ochre-painted exterior stonework. A large portico to the front was supported by six tall, Doric-style columns, beneath which an imposing granite-topped dining table was surrounded by twenty ladder-back chairs. Directly in front of the portico was a wide patio, leading to an Olympic size swimming pool, complete with whitewashed changing rooms to one side.
The DCI looked around the sumptuous reception room into which they’d been shown by a young Bajan girl. She’d met them at the front door after buzzing them through the impressive, gilded wrought iron gates fronting the property.
It was cool inside the villa, after the scorching sun on the portico. The marble-tiled, open-plan reception area was vast, and appeared to take up most of the ground floor. In the centre was a wide, ornately carved, highly-polished oak staircase, sweeping in elegant curves to both right and left, from a central landing at first-floor level. This housed two tall white marble statues of naked women, flanked by luxuriant potted palms. In the reception area were several separate groupings of furniture, more palms and yet more statues, including two very large gilded elephants, all strategically placed to break up the vast room. Louis thought it looked just like a hotel reception area, not at all homely, and he decided that he much preferred his cosy house in St Michael.
As he was taking in the opulence, which he thought was actually quite vulgar, a mature, extremely elegant lady appeared, making her way down the staircase. Her jet black hair was tied back from her pale, oval and rather angular face. He estimated her age at about sixty, but these days it was getting harder to tell.
‘Lady McIntyre-Brown?’ he asked, walking towards her, hand extended. ‘DCI Brown. And this is my colleague, DI James Phillips. Thank you for agreeing to see us.’
She took his proffered hand, unsmiling. He apologised for the intrusion and asked if she could spare them a few minutes. On behalf of both of them, he declined the refreshments she offered after inviting them to sit on one of the many elegant sofas.
‘Lady McIntyre-Brown, we’re making some routine enquiries about an incident that took place two nights ago, when a woman was attacked in her apartment, near Prospect.’
‘Oh yes? I was having dinner with friends that night, not too far from where it happened. Why do you want to speak to me about it?’
‘We’re just making a few initial enquiries. Where were you having dinner?’
‘I was with a group of my girlfriends, at the Sandy Lane hotel.’
‘And what time did you leave?’
‘Let’s see… my driver brought me home at about 11.45pm. I always like to be home before midnight. At my age you see, one needs one’s beauty sleep,’ she grimaced. ‘But why are you asking these questions officer?’
‘As I said, just routine enquiries. We’re talking to a number of people who may be able to help. Can you recall whether or not your husband was at home when you returned?’
She frowned, ‘My husband? Let me think… he’d gone out to a business meeting earlier in the evening. I assumed he was home, although I didn’t actually see him. He may have been in bed already or he may have come in later, I’m really not sure. We have separate sleeping arrangements, you see. I went straight to bed when I got in – I’d had rather a lot to drink, I’m afraid. My husband should remember, why not ask him?’
‘We are talking to him.’ he assured her. Tell me, does your maid stay overnight?’
‘She does, yes. Do you need to speak with her?’
He nodded. ‘Please.’
She left the room and he heard her calling out for the maid. Before long, she came back with the girl, who she introduced as Lucy.
The girl stood with her hands clasped in front of her and the DCI noted they were trembling.
‘No need to be nervous, Lucy,’ he said. ‘I just want to ask you a couple of questions. Ok?’ The girl nodded. ‘You know the night the lady was attacked, two nights ago, near Prospect?’
‘Oh yessir, I sure do. Ma cousin is a maid at the house next door. She tol’ me ‘bout it yesterday. We were so shocked at what happened. She was interviewed by the police too.’
‘Do you recall what time Sir Ralph came in that night?’
‘Yessir. It was about nine o’clock. He’d been to a business meeting. I poured him a whisky. I know just how he likes it; half and half, whisky and water, two ice cubes, slice of lemon.’ A hint of pride in her voice. ‘Then I chatted to him for a while - he always asks about my day and how my mum is – she’s sick you see. Then I went to bed. That would be about ten o’clock. I have to be up early.’
Lucy went on to explain that as her room was in an annexe at the back of the property, she hadn’t heard Lady McIntyre-Brown coming home. DS Brown thanked her and she scampered from the room. He then turned again to Lady McIntyre-Brown.
‘Oh, one last question for now. I understand that you and your husband normally come out to Barbados in January each year, but this year time you came in November. Why was that?’
‘Well, Ralph decided that he would like to spend Christmas out here for a change. Normally, we spend Christmas at home in England with all the family, but Ralph said he fancied a quiet time for once. I must admit I wasn’t too happy about it, but he was adamant and wouldn’t budge. I love spending time with my children and grandchildren, but I’m afraid my husband is getting old and grizzly and the noise of the grandchildren annoys him these days.’
‘Thank you so much for your time. We may need to ask further questions in due course. Oh, and I’ll need to speak to your driver; is he around?’
‘He’s not here at the moment. Can I give you his number?’
As they left, a few minutes later, James voiced his thoughts.
‘Aren’t some people strange? All the money in the world, yet no warmth or companionship in that house. Looks to me like Sir Ralph gets more affection and attention from the maid than from that cold fish. Separate bedrooms – what’s that all about? No, give me my lovely cuddly Deanne, any time. She might give me a hard time now and then, but she’s one red-hot chilli-pepper.’
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
After leaving the villa behind, James rang the McIntyre-Browns’ driver and arranged for them to call in at his house, on the way back to Bridgetown. Before long, they pulled up outside a neat chattel house, painted in the palest turquoise, with brilliant white window frames and door. Brightly coloured flowers trailed from well tended window boxes and spilled over the tubs beside the front porch. James knocked on the door, which was soon opened a fraction by a solemn little boy, who studied them with huge brown eyes, as he peeped around the door.
‘Hello. Is your father in?’ asked James, smiling down at him.
Without a word, the boy darted back into the house and soon a man came to the door. Of average height and quite lean, his well-developed muscles were evident in his bulging biceps.
‘Come in, gentlemen. Elvis Hanson,’ he said, extending his hand. After, shaking their hands, he led the way along a short passageway, into a small but very neat room. He indicated two easy chairs, both with brightly-coloured throws over their backs, and then sat himself down on a small two-seater sofa, opposite. ‘How can I help you?’
‘We’re making some routine enquiries and would just like to ask you a couple of questions about the night before last.’ the DCI said.
‘The night that lady was attacked?’ he asked, looking directly at Louis.
‘That’s right. Can you tell us your movements on that night?’
‘Yes of course. I was on duty, working for the McIntyre-Browns. I drove Lady Arabella to Sandy Lane at seven thirty, then picked her up again at eleven forty-five.’
‘What did you do in between?’
‘I came home to relax for a while before it was time to pick her up again.’
‘Did you see Sir Ralph at all?’
He hesitated, looking down, suddenly uncomfortable. ‘Well, I know he had a meeting earlier in the evening. He drove himself there and back in the Porsche... then I got a call from him, just after ten o’clock, asking if I could take him back into Holetown. He asked me not to mention it to his wife.’
‘Where did you drop him off?’
‘At the Lime Grove Centre. I’ve no idea where he was going.’
‘Did you pick him up again, later?’ asked the DI.
‘No, he said he’d probably get a taxi. Wasn’t sure how long he’d be.’
‘Has he ever done that before?’ asked James. ‘Asked you to keep his movements from his wife?’
‘No, never. I was a bit puzzled, but you don’t ask the boss for explanations.’
‘Well, thank you, Mr Hanson. We won’t keep you any longer. You’ve been very helpful.’
Back in the car, on the way back to the station, James took a call from the officer on duty at the crime scene, who told him that two fishermen were there with him. They wanted to report something suspicious they’d seen on the night Carol Barrington was killed.
‘I’m with the DCI now, just hold on.’ He looked at Louis and raised his eyebrows in query Louis nodded. ‘We’re only five minutes away, so we’ll swing round and come to speak with them. Keep them with you.’ He glanced at the DCI. ‘Here we go again, boss.’
They found the two men sitting at a small table in the street-level garden, sipping coke. The older of the two, with grizzly grey hair and weatherbeaten face, stood up politely, as they approached. He held out his hand.
James took it. ‘DI James Phillips. You must be the fishermen?
‘Yeah, man. The other copper asked us to wait here.’
‘This is DCI Brown,’ James introduced Louis.
‘Leroy Bates,’ the man said, shaking DCI Brown’s hand. ‘And this is my son, Ll
oyd.’ Lloyd, who’d remained in his chair, nodded in greeting.
‘My colleague told me you saw someone in the water?’ asked Louis, looking at the older man. ‘Can you tell us what happened?’ He pulled out a chair. ‘Let’s all sit down.’
Once they were settled, Leroy spoke, ‘We’re in the boat just offshore here, two nights ago, when we see a man. In the water. He was splashing about a bit at first and we thought he was in trouble. I shouted to him “You alright man?” He didn’t answer, just took off in the direction of Holetown. Seemed to be a fast swimmer. Powerful. Didn’t really think too much of it. Thought it was probably some crazy tourist. They always doin’ stupid things like that. When we heard about the trouble at that villa, we wondered, you know, if it could be connected. Thought we’d better tell you boys about it.’
‘What time did you see this man?’ asked James.
‘It was midnight. I know cos Lloyd here was late getting to the boat, down at Paynes Bay, and I was grumbling we wouldn’t get started til midnight. We’d just got in position, when we saw him.’
‘And how far away from the swimmer were you?’
‘Bout fifteen, twenty metres at most. We could see him in the lights from the shore.’
‘Can you describe him?’
‘Ah man, we only saw him in the water. Couldn’t really see much. He had dark hair, shortish. Seemed to be powerfully built. Coulda been white; definitely not black anyway. Light-skinned. Seemed to be wearing some kinda vest.’
‘Could you see the colour of the vest?’
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