Deadly Deceit (6 page)

“Huh! You’re showing your gullibility, along with your…” Rebekah cast her eyes over Sally’s ample cleavage.

Sally sat bolt upright. “And you’re showing you know nothing about the country you live in.”

Rebekah’s eyes flashed.

Sensing trouble, Jess intervened. “Well, I wouldn’t mind finding Johnny Depp on the beach when I get up in the morning.”

Everyone laughed and relaxed back in their chairs, except for Sally who continued to glare at Rebekah.

Tension eased, Jess reached over and moved the wine bottle well out of Sally’s reach. Now she knew why David wanted them to keep an eye on her. Sally was like a powder keg ready to blow.

Jess shifted in her chair as perspiration trickled down her back. Her feet and ankles were itching like mad from mozzie bites. So were the backs of her arms. They were biting through her clothes.

“Try Charles again,” Rebekah said to Brad.

“I’ve tried loads of times. He’s not answering.” Brad shook his head. “It’s not like my brother to be late, especially if there’s good food and wine around.”

“Are you
sure
he got back from his dive okay?” Rebekah’s voice was tense. “He’s not still out there, is he?”

“No.” Carrie broke off from talking to David. “I saw Charles driving away from the Dive Centre this afternoon, on my way back from taking the kids to church.”

Carrie had one of those soft American accents that flowed effortlessly, not at all guttural or harsh. In the soft glow of candlelight, with her sun-burnished skin and bright blonde hair, she looked radiant. Jess could quite see why David was smitten.

“Will you go and look for him, Brad,” Rebekah asked.

“No.” Sally put her hand on Brad’s arm. “Your brother can look after himself. He’s probably just fallen asleep.”

Brad nodded. “He’s not used to all that physical activity, working in a New York bank.”

Sally smiled. “Maybe he’s engaged in some physical activity now, with some woman?”

Jess noticed Rebekah flinch. The woman seemed to wear her heart on her sleeve. With her long, dark hair and beautiful face, Jess wondered if there was some Spanish or South American heritage in her. She certainly seemed on tenterhooks tonight, especially about Charles. Friendly concern? Or something more?

Maggie popped her head out of the kitchen door. “Can I serve the main course?” she asked David.

“Of course.”

Moments later, Maggie came out proudly carrying a tray of steaming bowls. “Conch stew,” she announced.

Rebekah groaned, and Maggie’s face fell.

“
Wonderful
, Maggie,” Sally said, loudly. “I
love
your conch stew.”

Maggie’s smile returned as she placed a bowl in front of each guest.

Jess was surprised at Rebekah’s rudeness, and glanced at the Chief Justice who stared at his wife with a stony expression, but said nothing. Jess turned to Brad, who sat on her left. “What exactly is conch?” she asked.

“A massive pink snail.” He smiled and pointed to the bar. “See those huge, shiny sea-shells decorating the shelves. They’re conch shells. The islanders cook the conch’s edible muscle in soups and stews. It’s a local delicacy.”

Rebekah wrinkled her nose. “They drag themselves along the seabed with that muscly foot. Just imagine what it’s gone through.”

Dominic gave his wife another warning look. He seemed to know she was ready to blow up too.

Jess noticed that, despite sitting on either side of Charles’s empty chair, the Cannings had not spoken a word to each other all evening. “Shall we remove Charles’s place setting?” she asked.

“No,” Rebekah said, quickly. “He’ll be here.”

Jess shrugged, and dipped her spoon into the stew. After tasting it, she looked over at Maggie, who was hovering by the kitchen door. “Lovely,” she said.

Maggie nodded gratefully, and went inside.

Jess turned back to Dominic, who sat on her right. Despite his unremarkable appearance – short, grey hair and a middle aged paunch, she found him knowledgeable on a wide range of issues as she would expect a senior barrister and judge to be. He had a razor sharp brain, giving quick, succinct answers to her questions about the Territory. In just 15 minutes of conversation, she’d learnt more about the Turks and Caicos Islands from him than from the whole of her London brief.

The other noticeable thing about the Chief Justice was his observant grey eyes. They darted around the table, watching everyone, especially his wife who was now matching Sally in the amount of wine she was drinking. It was only when Jess asked Dominic about Clement Pearson’s death that he became evasive. But she was determined to probe. “I saw an article in the
Miami Post
on the plane over today about Clement,” she said.

Dominic looked down at his food.

“It said he was found hanged in his garage,” she went on. “The police were reported as saying there was nothing suspicious about his death, which suggests he committed suicide.” She paused. “Is that what happened?”

Dominic nodded.

“The article implied the Minister had been depressed about the death of his son from a drugs overdose,” she persisted. “Is that true, do you think?”

Dominic shrugged. “I don’t know all the details, Jess.”

“I also read that earlier on the day Clement Pearson died, he’d been in front of a British Inquiry into the sinking of two Haitian sloops. Can you tell me about that?”

Dominic gave her a sideways look. He wiped his mouth on his napkin, and shifted his chair closer to hers, to speak more privately. “The first sloop sank about five months ago. The weather wasn’t particularly good at the time. The second sloop went down two months later.” He paused and gave her another look. “After a lot of pressure, the British Government ordered an Inquiry, and sent UK officials out to do an investigation.”

“What were their findings?”

Dominic was practically whispering now. “
Both
were deemed to be accidents, in bad weather.” His eyes were piercing. “I kept asking the Governor to set up talks with the Haitian Government, to put some pressure on them to stop these sloops leaving Haiti in the first place.” He paused. “The Governor
said
he’d reported everything to London, and that there was nothing to be done. Not even the Haitian Government could stop these sloops.”

“Why not?”

“Because most of them set sail from Cap-Haitien, on the north coast. It’s a pretty lawless area. The poor souls on board think they’re paying passage for a better life in the US. But they end up here. We’re only about 90 miles away.” He shook his head. “The British Government
should
be doing something about it.”

Jess just let him talk. She was learning a lot.

“I’m going back to the UK tomorrow,” Dominic said. “I’m giving a speech to a global law conference.”

She looked over.

“Yes. Then I’m going into the Foreign Office to discuss all this. They’ve
got
to do something about this illegal migration.” He paused. “The locals are fed up with the increasing numbers coming over, and tensions are bubbling.” He sighed. “This bloody voodoo doesn’t help!”

Jess stared at him. “Voodoo?”

He nodded. “It’s like a religion to the Haitians. Their voodoo God, Bondye, is similar to the God of Islam, Judaism and Christianity. But there are lots of spirits in voodoo – good and bad.”

Jess laughed. “All I know about voodoo is what I’ve seen on films. Zombies and people sticking pins in little dolls.”

He gave her a reproachful look. “They take this seriously, Jess. Anyway, poppet dolls, as they’re known, are the black magic voodoo of bad spirits, which we’ve outlawed in these islands.”

She looked at him. “Do you think it still goes on, in secret?”

“Possibly, but the central aspect of voodoo is about
healing
people with herbs, faith and even Western medicine these days. Both men and women can be priests. They perform religious ceremonies to call up, or rather pacify, the spirits.”

“I see.”

“All priests hold ceremonies. They tell the future, read dreams, cast love and death spells. That sort of thing.” He paused. “In Haiti they carry out sacrificial practices, but that’s outlawed here too.”

“It’s
supposed
to have been outlawed,” Sally piped up.

Jess looked up to see everyone was listening to her conversation with Dominic.

“Go on, Dom,” Rebekah urged. “Tell her about the recent goings-on.”

He shook his head. “Jess doesn’t want to hear about that.”

“They’ve started their sacrifices again.” Rebekah’s voice caught in the back of her throat. “That’s what’s happened to my Benji, I’m sure of it. They targeted us because Dom’s the Chief Justice.
Payback!
”

Jess looked startled.

“Benji’s their pet Labrador,” Brad explained. “He disappeared a couple of weeks ago.”

“He’s not the
only
pet to go missing,” Sally said, darkly. “The Governor’s had calls from other islanders whose cats and dogs have disappeared. The police found bones lying around the remains of a fire on the beach the other day. The locals got mad and started accusing the migrants of sacrificing their pets. The police had to step in to calm the situation down. But feelings are running high.”

Jess looked at David.

“It’s true,” he said, calmly. “But it’s all a fuss about nothing. There’s no evidence that sacrificial practices are going on. Everyone has parties on the beach of a night. They light fires, and have barbecues.”

“So what did forensic tests on the bones show?” Jess asked.

David shrugged. “A local doctor said they weren’t human, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Have they been properly analysed in a laboratory?” she persisted.

David shrugged again. “Doubt it.”

Carrie, who’d been sitting quietly, said: “It would explain what’s happened to all these pets, if they have been sacrificed.”

“Oh!” Rebekah gave a strangled gasp.

“Sorry, Rebekah,” Carrie said. “I didn’t mean to upset you, but these ceremonies go on all over Haiti in July and August. And they
do
use animals.” She shivered. “I live near the beach, and I’ve heard drumming and chanting in the middle of the night.”

David put a comforting hand over Carrie’s. “It’s nothing to be frightened of.”

Sally picked up her glass and emptied it in one gulp. “Well, if you ask me, Rebekah, you shouldn’t have let Benji out to roam around on his own. You should have taken him out on a lead.”

Rebekah reacted as if she’d been punched.

“So you’ve only got yourself to blame really,” Sally added.

There was a stunned silence.

“
You bitch!
” Rebekah shouted at her, and jumped to her feet.

Everyone around the table sat frozen, as they listened to Rebekah’s footsteps stomping around the verandah and out of the Residence.

“Rebekah?” Dominic called after his wife. “Come back.” He jumped up and went after her.

Jess stared at Sally in disbelief.

“Well, she winds me up,” Sally said, through gritted teeth. “Lady-la-di-bloody-da!”

Jess expected David to go after the Cannings, but he sat like a rabbit in headlights. She threw her napkin on the table, and hurried after them. “Dominic,” she called.

He stopped and turned.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “Sally’s rudeness is inexcusable.”

Dominic’s face softened. “Don’t worry. Rebekah’s just, well, she’s just upset about Benji, that’s all.” He glanced over Jess’s shoulder to check they were alone, and lowered his voice. “Look, we haven’t got time to talk privately before I go to London. Just keep your head down and hold the fort for a few days.”

“But, I need to…”

“Don’t ask any more questions about Clement’s death, or about the Government Inquiry. I’m going to talk to London about it all. So just leave it until I get back.” He stopped as footsteps approached from behind.

Brad came up. “I’d better take Sally home. She’s had too much to drink.”

Jess nodded. “That’s putting it mildly.”

“Don’t be too hard on her, Jess,” he went on, “she’s really upset about the Governor.”

“So’s everyone else!” She wasn’t going to let Sally off the hook so easily.

When she turned back, Dominic had walked to the end of the verandah by the front entrance. He gave a fleeting glance over his shoulder before disappearing into the night after his wife.

Jess frowned. The look on his face at that moment would play on her mind for some time. If she’d had to explain it to anyone, she’d have said it was a look of fear.

They call this place the graveyard of souls.

Bad spirits wait here for unsuspecting sailors, to scupper their boats and drag them down into the deep, so the locals say. Not everyone is superstitious of course, but they all keep their distance and navigate their vessels around the area.

And who can blame them after what’s happened over the centuries?

No-one comes here, except me. I love being in the boat, especially on a dead calm night like this, when the inky sky and black sea merge and wrap themselves around me. Navigating by the stars, I’m at one with the sea.

I can breathe out here, with the trade wind in my face, and waves slapping onto the bow as they try to push the boat towards the reef. I’m not afraid, because I belong here. I feel it deep inside.

Sometimes, sitting here, I imagine I hear the roar of the wind and cracking wood as another overladen vessel smashes apart on the reef. I hear terrified screams as its human cargo plunges into the ocean. I see them thrashing about in the water. I see their life ebbing away as water floods their lungs, and they sink down to join the other sunken-eyed skeletons in that watery graveyard below.

Why are they so afraid of drowning? Death is as certain as life itself. And being taken by the sea is the only way to go. Why thrash about? Why scream? Why not go serenely and calmly to the next life? It’s a mystery to me.

I keep asking myself if I care? The truthful answer is no, because I know they no longer suffer.