Murder in the Caribbean. Robert Thorogood

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      ‘I mean, she was hit hard when I told her that we now think her husband was missing presumed dead. She was distraught. And I believed her. But I got the feeling that she was also guilty somehow. Or maybe that’s too strong. But something was gnawing at her.’

      ‘You think she could be involved in his death?’

      ‘I don’t know.’

      ‘Because the two people I’ve spoken to say she couldn’t have been. So why’s she acting so strange?’

      ‘I don’t know, sir.’

      Fidel called over from his desk.

      ‘Oh okay, sir, I think you need to see this. The computer’s got a match for the fingerprint I lifted from the SIM card.’

      ‘It has?’ Richard said as he headed over to Fidel’s desk.

      ‘It sure has. The fingerprint belongs to a man called Pierre Charpentier.’

      ‘And who’s he when he’s at home?’

      ‘Well, this is where it gets interesting. His prints are on the system because, twenty years ago, he committed murder during a robbery in London. So he’s been serving a life sentence. First in Holloway prison in London. And then, five years ago, he was transferred to the Central Prison on Saint-Marie.’

      ‘Hang on,’ Richard said, trying to process what Fidel had just said. ‘You’re saying that the print on the SIM card you found on Conrad’s boat belongs to a man who’s in prison for murder?’

      ‘What’s more, he committed his murder all those years ago while he and his gang were robbing a jewellery store in London.’

      This got the team’s attention, and now it was Camille and Dwayne’s turn to head over to Fidel’s desk.

      ‘He knocked off a jewellery store?’ Dwayne asked.

      ‘He sure did. And now we find his fingerprint on the detonator of a bomb, and a big fat fake jewel left at the victim’s house. It’s all connected, isn’t it?’

      ‘But hold on,’ Richard said. ‘How could Pierre whoever-he-is have killed Conrad at all, seeing as he’s currently in prison?’

      ‘That’s the thing, sir. He isn’t in prison.’

      ‘But you just said he was.’

      ‘That’s the whole point. He’s been in prison for the last twenty years. But he was released three days ago.’

      The team looked at each other, absolutely stunned.

      Richard was the first to recover.

      ‘Then I suggest we find this Pierre Charpentier as a matter of some urgency,’ he said. ‘Don’t you?’

      It’s amazing what you learn in prison. Who knew you could make an improvised bomb out of an old phone and a few wires? And it was so easy to set up. Conrad had no security on his boat. The hatch to his engine compartment wasn’t even locked. It was simple. Under cover of night, I taped the phone inside, and then it was just a case of working out which tube was the fuel line that led from the petrol tanks. A quick slice with a knife, and the job was done. It was amazing. The rush I felt knowing I now had his life in my hands. After two decades of waiting. One call, that’s all it would take. And that’s all it took. I dialled the number when his boat was out in the harbour where everyone could see it. I then waited a few seconds for the call to connect, and then the boat went up. Just like that. Boom. Then, when everyone rushed to the bay, I went to his house and smashed in the back window. Wrecking his study wasn’t part of the plan, but I couldn’t help myself. I felt alive. Finally alive. And then I left the ruby. That had always been the plan. To leave the ruby. Because it wasn’t enough to kill Conrad. I wanted to make a statement. To let the whole world know. I was back.

CHAPTER FOUR

      It took a quick phonecall to the administration department of the Central Prison to find out that Pierre Charpentier had indeed left prison three days before, and his registered address was a halfway house a few miles away.

      When Richard told his team Pierre’s address, Dwayne offered to come along.

      ‘Why?’ Richard asked.

      ‘Let me put it this way,’ Dwayne said. ‘It’s not the sort of place someone like you wants to get lost in.’

      As the Police jeep arrived, Richard found himself agreeing with Dwayne’s analysis. For the last few minutes they’d travelled down a narrow dirt road that cut through a field of sugar cane, the thick stalks pressing in on either side. Then, once the field ended, the track opened up into a dirt clearing that contained half a dozen clapboard houses that were nestling in scrubland right next to the sea.

      Camille parked the Police jeep by some overflowing bins. There was no-one around. Just some laundry drying on a line and a scrawny dog sleeping in the shade of an old pick-up.

      It felt like something out of the Wild West, Richard thought to himself.

      ‘Come on, let’s get this over with,’ he said, heading to the crumbling building that was listed as Pierre’s halfway house.

      Stepping up onto the porch, Richard knocked loudly on the wooden door. There was no answer from inside, although Richard saw a net curtain twitch in a house nearby. Interesting, he thought to himself. The enclave wasn’t as deserted as he’d first thought.

      Richard took a few steps back and looked at the upstairs windows of the old building. They had yellowed copies of the Saint-Marie Times taped to the inside, and there was a bush of some sort growing out of the gutter above.

      ‘Let me see what I can do,’ Dwayne said, heading around the side of the house.

      ‘Dwayne!’ Richard called out after him. ‘We don’t have a warrant.’

      ‘I know that, Chief,’ Dwayne replied, before disappearing.

      Richard knocked on the door again, but there was still no answer.

      ‘Mr Charpentier!’ he called out. ‘Saint-Marie Police. Are you there?’

      Richard noticed the net curtain at the nearby house twitch again. Whoever was inside was very interested to see what was going on.

      After knocking on the door for a third time, Richard was gratified to hear the sound of footsteps approaching from inside. He took a step back to make sure he wasn’t within striking distance of Pierre when he opened the door and pulled his warrant card, ready to show it.

      There was the sound of various chains being lifted, bolts being slid back, and then the door opened inwards.

      ‘Detective Inspector Richard Poole of the Saint-Marie Police Force,’ Richard said.

      ‘I know who you are,’ Dwayne said as he finished opening the door.

      ‘How did you get in there?’ Richard asked, quietly furious.

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