Caribbean Sunset with a Yellow Parrot (The Belchester Chronicles Book 5) Read online

  Chapter Eleven

  Lady Amanda had established a routine with Maria that she and Hugo be served tea in bed at eight-thirty, but today this happy routine was interrupted. DI Pharaoh had returned to the area with Sergeant Waladii, and the two of them made an early raid on those they wanted to talk to in the Parrot Bay properties.

  Thus it was, that they knocked rather vigorously on the door of number fifteen at eight o’clock, and Maria called loudly upstairs from the hall. ‘Lady Amanda, Mr Hugo, we got a policeman on de doorstep. What you want I should do wid him?’

  Hugo was difficult to rouse from his slumbers, but Lady Amanda was suddenly wide awake, and called back, ‘Put him in the sitting room, and Hugo and I will be down as soon as we’ve made ourselves decent.’

  Pulling on a light but long dressing gown, she went into Hugo’s room and began the delicate process of waking him up. She grabbed him by the shoulders and started to shake him gently at first, then with more vigour. Hugo puffed and snorted and stirred, so Lady A decided it was time for stage two of this particular operation. Leaning close to his face, she continued to shake him, but added to this a loud repetition of his name. ‘Hu-go. Hu-go. Wake up. Wake up, damn you! There’s a policeman waiting downstairs to talk to us.’

  Letting go of his shoulders, she began to slap his cheeks lightly. ‘Hu-go, police.’ Grabbing his shoulders once more and giving him a much more vigorous shake, she shouted one final time, but much louder. ‘Hugo! Po-lice.’

  ‘Wassup? Whassgoinon? Wurra-wurra-wurra wot,’ he babbled as consciousness slowly returned. ‘Wha’ you doin’ in my room, Manda?’

  ‘You have to get out of bed now and come downstairs.’

  ‘But I haven’t had my early morning tea yet,’ he said, this vital fact suddenly striking him. ‘Where’s Maria got to?’

  ‘It’s only just gone eight o’clock, Hugo, and Maria hasn’t brought our tea yet.’

  Hugo flung himself back into his sleeping position and attempted to return to the land of slumber, but Lady Amanda wasn’t standing for mutiny like that. ‘Hugo, there’s a policeman downstairs who wants to talk to us – NOW! Wake up! You have to get out of bed.’

  ‘Must I?’ he whined, lifting a pathetic face to his house-mate.

  ‘Yes you must. This isn’t a good old British bobby. This is a foreign policeman, and he might clap you in irons for not co-operating. Come on, now, put your dressing gown on and come down with me, and we can have our tea when he’s gone.’

  This threat was enough to convince Sleeping Beauty that he really did have to get out of his bed, but before he came out from under the covers, he said, ‘Would you mind turning round first, Manda. I don’t like to be seen in my pyjamas, especially not by someone of the female persuasion.’

  ‘Hugo, it’s me, Manda,’ she replied, slightly hurt, but complying with his request. ‘How can you possibly class me as one of those silly women?’

  ‘Because, technically, you are one.’

  ‘Stuff and nonsense. Now hurry up, or he’ll get restive, and then Lord knows what he’ll do to us. I for one don’t fancy being handcuffed and hauled off to whatever passes for the local clink on this island.’

  It took ten minutes to get Hugo sufficiently awake to put on his dressing gown, then he insisted on brushing his thick white hair before he could be seen in public. When he’d first gone to prep school, he’d been known as Haystack for a while, and it was a nickname he didn’t fancy being revived.

  Maria was waiting for them in the hall, wringing her hands together. ‘You’d better hurry you’selves up. Ah think he’s getting’ fed up of waitin’ for you.

  With this in mind, Lady Amanda swept majestically into the sitting room and held out her right hand. ‘Lady Amanda Golightly,’ she enunciated slowly and clearly. The man had to know exactly with whom he was dealing, here. ‘And my friend Mr Hugo Cholmondley-Crichton-Crump.’ She held out a hand to indicate the shy and retiring figure standing behind her. Let him chew on that for a minute or two, and see how hungry he still felt.

  DI Pharaoh had sent Sergeant Waladii to visit the old girls who were staying on the close, but not actually been instrumental in discovering the body, reserving this house and Cocktails, next door, for himself. He didn’t mind handing out scraps to those of inferior rank, but he liked to keep the real meat for himself. This analogy came into his head as he decided that Lady Amanda had the early morning face of a disgruntled bulldog, and it was only early by her undisciplined standards. He was up every morning at five thirty so that he could go for a run before breakfasting and going into the station.

  ‘I wonder if you could tell me about the events of yesterday morning when you two and, I believe, one of your next door neighbours, discovered the body of Mr Douglas Huddlestone-Black.’ He had come over from the mainland again, and there was a definite American twang to his accent.

  ‘There’s not much to tell, actually. Windy – I mean Wendy – from next door at Cocktails …’ – she did not provide a surname, because she wasn’t sure whether Windy had retained her maiden name, or had changed it on marrying Beep-Beep – came to our door yelling her head off, and seemed very shocked and upset by something, didn’t she, Hugo?’ She finished with this question, because she wanted Hugo to at least join in the explanation, even if it was just agreeing with what she said.

  ‘She was hysterical,’ replied Hugo, exceeding all her expectations. ‘And we offered to go to see whatever it was that had upset her.’

  ‘And that was?’ DI Pharaoh decided to get at least three words in edgeways.

  ‘Well, Douglas was supposed to be going to the next island to catch a flight home, and she hadn’t seen him leave. Usually he dropped the keys to the villa into her mailbox …’

  ‘Cut to the chase, lady,’ instructed the inspector.

  Bridling at such a rude interruption, Lady Amanda continued her tale. ‘But the keys never appeared, so she went over to number five with her spare key to see if everything was alright. When she came across the dead body of Mr Huddlestone-Black, she came straight over here and asked us to go back with her, just to confirm that she hadn’t misinterpreted what she had seen.

  ‘This we did. We discovered his suitcases in the hall, with the contents strewn everywhere. Win … Wendy led us upstairs to the room he slept in, and there he was, lying on the floor with his throat cut.’

  ‘Can you confirm this, Mr Chumley … Umley … Um … sir?’

  ‘Indeed I can,’ replied Hugo. ‘It was like a horrible, bloody smile, from ear to ear. Most upsetting for the ladies – and for me, as well,’ he added, screwing up his face in disgust at the memory.

  ‘Have you any theories as to who could have been responsible for his murder, or why he was killed?’

  ‘Absolutely none, Inspector. Neither of us knows a thing, nor have we been on the island long enough for us to know who Mr Huddlestone-Black knew here. He wasn’t exactly what you’d call the sociable type, and kept very much to himself.’ She had decided not to mention seeing him in the jewellery quarter the other day.

  ‘And you, Mr Ch … sir?’

  ‘Not a clue, old boy,’ replied Hugo, innocence shining out of his face.

  Not quite sure whether the term ‘old boy’ was a friendly term, or whether it was a slur on his age, the inspector took his leave of them, informing them that he would be calling next door at Cocktails to see if the lady there confirmed their statements.

  He was much longer interviewing Windy, who broke into hysterical sobs as soon as he entered the house. It took quite some time for her to tell her version of what had happened, punctuated, as it was, with sobs, nose-blowing, eye-wiping, hiccoughs, and frequent pathetic appeals to Beep-Beep to make it all go away.

  When Pharaoh finally found himself outside the house, he discovered that Sergeant Waladii had finished all the visits he had needed to make, and was leaning against the trunk of a tree enjoying the shade. ‘We ought to get back,’ he stated baldly. ‘They said the results of th
e autopsy would be available this morning, so I suggest we go back to the security force’s offices and radio in.’

  ‘They might have turned up something that wasn’t immediately obvious, I suppose,’ mused the inspector.

  ‘And piggies might fly. Do we really have to stay in that ramshackle old house they’ve found for us?’

  ‘Damned right we do, until we can take back the person responsible for this killing.’

  ‘Holy Moses!’ Sergeant Waladii wasn’t at all impressed.

  Windy had finally recovered herself sufficiently to make two lists of old girls for viewing the properties. She had been a little surprised that Lady Amanda wanted to see all of the villas, but she probably wanted to see what they could look like when someone had stamped some personality on them.

  Even the ones that were only being stayed in were still for sale, and she thought the few who lived there wouldn’t be in the least discomposed at letting their friends see how they had personalised the blank canvases they had purchased and, to be fair, each and every one of the dwellings was very slightly different in design and execution from its neighbours anyway.

  The first group assembled at one thirty, missing nobody – as everyone, given the chance, loves looking round other people’s homes, so that they can be catty about them afterwards. This was the group that Beep-Beep would take round, and as soon as he left, Windy drifted round to see her old ink monitor.

  When Hugo answered the door to her, she hustled past him until she found Lady Amanda, still in the kitchen finishing her lunch. Without preamble, she plunged into her first question. ‘You didn’t tell him anything other than what we’d agreed, did you, Sniffy?’

  ‘Of course I didn’t, Windy. What do you take me for? A fool?’

  ‘And you didn’t mention that we had a bit of a poke around before I locked the place back up?’

  ‘My lips are sealed. What are you so worried about? Do you think it might have been Adonis who sent you that letter?’

  ‘No, of course I don’t. I just don’t want to be caught out with a question I’m not prepared for. I might really put my foot in it.’

  ‘Have a glass of mango juice and stop being such a worry-guts. They’ll find out who did it, and then life will just get back to normal.’

  ‘Do you really think so, Sniffy?’

  ‘Of course I do. You know we’ve got experience of this sort of thing, and I can assure that it will seem like no time at all before we’re all wondering what all the fuss was about,’ Lady Amanda reassured her.

  ‘A man was killed,’ stated Windy defiantly.

  ‘He was, but not a man any of us ever knew well, or was really close to. You’d be surprised how a ripple in a pond, no matter how far the rings spread out, is soon dispersed by the sheer weight of the rest of the water. Don’t fret so. Everything will be fine, you’ll see.’

  Windy didn’t look convinced, but went back next door for a quick snifter before she too had to traipse round all their properties, being Ms Enthusiastic Guide. She and Beep-Beep were gutted that the properties hadn’t sold quicker, but you’ve got to play the hand you’re dealt, and if she could unload a couple on these old school-friends, they’d be back on more secure ground. For now.

  The second group of viewers set out at two-thirty. The arrangement was for Beep-Beep to unlock the properties and leave them so, so that the second group could follow on not far behind. That way, the proceedings shouldn’t take an enormous amount of time, and he could go back behind the second group locking up again.

  Windy made them start at number one where Horseface and Fflageolet were staying but, as they had been in the first group, they weren’t there to hear any disparaging comments made about the untidiness of their bedrooms and the number of items left to languish on a coffee table in the middle of the seating group in the living room.

  As they left to move on to number two, Hopalong’s year-round home, Windy realised that she’d lost Lady A. Hugo pleaded ignorance of her whereabouts, and she eventually found her in the kitchen going through the pedal bin. ‘Whatever are you doing, Sniffy, going through the kitchen waste?’ she asked, perplexed.

  ‘The same as I was doing last night,’ replied Lady Amanda haughtily. ‘I’d have thought you would have guessed that I’m still on the trail of any magazines or newspapers that have letters or words cut out of them.’

  ‘Gotcha! Good idea. I’ll just leave you to trail along at the rear then, shall I?’

  ‘As long as Beep-Beep doesn’t lock me in somewhere in his enthusiasm to finish the task.’

  ‘I know you: you’d soon make yourself heard.’

  As she left her old chum to her own devices, happy that she was still looking into who had sent that wretched letter, Lady Amanda fell further and further behind the group, and when she finally got to number five, where Adonis had been staying, she noticed that the police crime scene tape had been removed, and the front door stood wide open.

  Just before she reached the door, something nestling in a bushy shrub just to the right of the front door caught her eye. Bending down, she found a small suede bag complete with drawstrings to close it. Picking it up absently, she put it in her handbag to consider later. She needed to have a look in the deceased’s bin in case he had been the one who had concocted the anonymous communication, but with no results.

  More prepared for what she might find this time, she had brought a pair of thin rubber gloves, which she donned on entering each kitchen. These bins were much smaller than their exterior counterparts, but she didn’t want to end up with filthy, stinky hands, and have everyone ask her what on earth she had been doing.

  In number seven there were a number of waste-paper baskets to be looked through and, in one of the bedrooms, she came across a piece of paper that had been screwed up into a tight ball, after being torn up. Carefully reconstructing the sheet, she read at the top of it ‘HM Customs & Excise’, and her mind started to race. What was going on in this house? Was one of the occupants a smuggler? Somehow she couldn’t see Wuffles, Droopy-Drawers, or Longshanks being involved with anything so underhand.

  Another bin yielded another piece of discarded paper with the words, ‘Meet me at midnight. Place as arranged’ scrawled on it. Another mystery. Had one of these three ageing ladies found themselves a local beau? Another bag of waste had been put out by the refuse bin since last night and, keeping crouched down low, she rifled through this, only to come across some thin slivers of paper which could be off-cuts from someone compiling a rather nasty letter. The police obviously hadn’t searched the house very closely.

  There were no magazines or newspapers, but there was a small pile of ash at the very end of the garden that she had missed the evening before, that could indicate that someone had, perhaps burnt something incriminating. Could there be an innocent explanation for all she’d found. It seemed unlikely.

  Had someone just burnt some rubbish that was too bulky for the bin? Who was being met at midnight, where and which night? How did the Customs people fit into things? These and other questions would need some thinking about, and she resolved not to engage in this activity until she was alone in her room at bedtime. She could discuss everything with Hugo, when they were both fresh in the morning, for she believed that Windy had plans that would use up the rest of their day.

  Putting on a bit of a spurt, she missed out number eight – Beauchamp and Enid – and numbers ten and twelve that were empty, and hurried on to number fourteen, to which Eeyore had not yet returned. She would leave Cocktails until last, so that if she was caught wandering around, she could, untruthfully, plead that she had just been having a look round. She was determined to get to the bottom of why those two received that letter in the first place. They must be hiding something, or it would never have been sent at all. Someone had got something on them, and she wanted to know what that something was.

  Once there, and after taking a quick peek out of the front window to see that no one was coming, she began to sort through the
desk that sat at the back of the room, accidentally on purpose uncovering a bank statement, a letter in a foreign language, and a draft lease, and the contents of these two documents nearly made her hair stand on end. No! Surely not! Her lips clamped tight shut in disapproval, she made her way next door, where Hugo was just arriving, having given up on the last few villas. He’d had enough, and he wanted a cup of tea more than anything else in the world.

  The old girls had just settled down in their villas to have some tea when there was the roar of an old engine, and Winstone Churchill drove into Parrot Bay in a taxi that was in no better shape than his decaying old bus. Sounding the horn furiously, everyone came out to see what on earth had happened. Had war been declared, or had there been an outbreak of bubonic plague in the Caribbean?

  He got out of the taxi and called them altogether, his face serious for the first time since they had met him. ‘Ah got news for you,’ he began. ‘Momentous news. You know dat man who got hisself killed? Well, Ah just heard the result of the autopsy. His insides was brimful of emeralds. He was a smuggler, and dat’s de truth.’

  A babble of conversation broke out, as all Huddlestone-Black’s secret and not-so-secret admirers began to question Winstone. It must be a rumour. He would never do a thing like that. Who had told him? Who would try to put a slur on dear Adonis’ character like that?

  Lady Amanda merely stood in silence, letting the hubbub wash over her. That was the answer to what had been in the empty suede bag she had found outside number five. That explained why he had been into that classy jeweller’s – to get instructions about delivery from that ‘yacht in the night’. That also explained why he had planned to go home when he did. He must have only just swallowed the stones. And he’d been coming out here two or three times a year. How many times had he smuggled back emeralds in his stomach? That was an awful lot of gems, and probably a whole heap of money going into his back pocket.