the Police Land Rover, the same couldn’t be said for the other Police vehicle, a sputtering Harley Davidson motorbike that had an attached, almost-certainly illegal sidecar. Only Dwayne was qualified to drive the infernal machine, and Richard only travelled in it under sufferance. After all, as he’d tell anyone who asked, if the answer is ever ‘get on a motorbike driven by Dwayne’, you’ve very definitely been asking the wrong question.
However, the most irksome aspect of island living, as far as Richard was concerned, was that the distances were often so small that the quickest way to get somewhere was to walk. And while Richard loved the idea of walking in theory – particularly on a crisp winter’s day, the grass stiff on the ground with frost – it was quite a different matter yomping through the blistering heat of the tropics wearing a thick woollen suit.
Sweating heavily, Richard arrived at Mrs Gardiner’s house, and found Camille inspecting the earth beneath the smashed window. Having updated her that he and Fidel now believed Conrad had been murdered, Richard asked what Camille had so far been able to find.
‘Not much of anything, sir,’ she said. ‘There are no footprints out here. And no cigarette butts or anything else that suggests anyone was here. And the window’s not overlooked by any of the neighbours, so they didn’t see anything, either.’
‘Did they hear the moment the window was smashed?’
‘I’ve asked whoever I can find who was nearby at the time, and no-one saw or heard anything suspicious.’
‘I see,’ Richard said, disappointed. ‘Then what about the window frame?’
Camille explained that she’d just finished inspecting the outside frame, and it was so rough and weather-beaten it wasn’t possible to lift any fingerprints from it.
‘Then what about the break-in? Has Mrs Gardiner got any theories?’
‘None. Although I asked her to have a proper look at everything that was thrown on the floor, and she said she’s not sure, but she thinks nothing’s been stolen.’
‘In which case, the break-in was all about leaving the ruby.’
‘Which is kind of crazy, sir.’
‘I’d agree with you there. Because, why bother?’
‘It’s a message, isn’t it?’
‘That’s what I’m thinking. It’s got no intrinsic value, so it must be symbolic somehow. Or a warning of some kind.’
‘To Natasha?’
‘It’s a possibility. Because it wasn’t a message for Conrad, was it? I mean, with him dead, he’s not going to receive it, is he? Look, let’s talk to Natasha again. We need to tell her the explosion wasn’t an accident, and I want to press her a bit more about this ruby.’
Richard and Camille went into the house, but Natasha was nowhere to be found. However, the French windows were open, and they could see that she was standing on the beach down by the sea.
‘Oh, bloody hell,’ Richard said to himself as he stepped out of the house and onto the bright white sand. He hated walking on beaches in his brogues, and he still couldn’t quite believe that it was an occupational hazard he had to endure on an almost daily basis.
‘Mrs Gardiner?’ Camille asked as they approached, but Natasha didn’t turn round. She just kept staring out at the distant horizon.
Richard cleared his throat to get the woman’s attention.
‘If he’s in the water, he’ll come in here, won’t he?’ Natasha said, almost to herself. ‘I mean, this is the nearest beach.’
‘It is,’ Camille said, kindly. ‘But there have been developments. It looks like maybe your husband’s boat didn’t explode by accident.’
Natasha’s brow furrowed, but she didn’t say anything.
‘It looks like it was set off by an IED,’ Richard said. ‘An improvised explosive device.’
This finally registered with her.
‘I’m, sorry . . .?’
‘Now, I understand this is a terrible shock,’ Camille said before her boss could be any more insensitive, ‘but if someone was behind this terrible event, then every passing hour will make it harder for us to catch them.’
‘You’re saying it wasn’t an accident?’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘But why would anyone want to do that to Conrad?’
‘That’s what we’d like to know.’
Natasha took a moment to compose herself, and then she said, ‘No, it’s not possible. It’s monstrous.’
She then headed back to her house. After a quick glance of surprise at each other, Richard and Camille followed her across the sand.
‘You don’t think anyone could have wanted to harm your husband?’ Camille asked.
‘No way.’
‘Even though it looks as though someone did?’
‘But who’d want to harm him?’ Natasha said, turning and looking at the Police officers with what Richard realised was a fair amount of desperation. ‘Everyone likes Conrad, that’s the whole point of him. He’s popular.’
‘Do you mind me asking, what exactly does he do?’
‘Well, it’s like I told you before. He does this and that.’
‘But what sort of "this and that"?’
‘He used to be a record producer. With his own recording studio and everything. He’s always been a champion of island music.’
‘He used to be a record producer?’ Richard asked
‘For many years. But you can’t keep making hit records. Your luck eventually runs out, and that’s how it went with Conrad. He hit a bad patch, and when the money ran out he had to let his studio go.’
‘That must have been hard,’ Camille offered.
‘Not to Conrad. Nothing is ever a problem to him. If we’re rich, and we’ve had plenty of money in the past, he’s happy. If we’re poor, he’s also happy. He’s just happy with everything and everyone.’ This comment really seemed to resonate with Natasha. ‘So it’s just impossible that anyone would do this to him. You must have made a mistake.’
‘You think so?’
‘I know so.’
‘Then perhaps you could explain why a ruby was left on a table in your husband’s study?’
There was a flash of surprise in Natasha’s eyes that Richard could see her quell just as soon as it appeared.
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Because I think you know what it means.’
‘I don’t.’
‘It’s better if you tell us what you know now,’ Camille said, playing the role of the ‘Good Cop’.
‘But I don’t know anything about why that ruby was put there. Nothing at all. I promise you.’
Natasha said this statement with such finality that Richard was left in no doubt that she meant it. The only problem was, both Richard and Camille knew she was lying. But why would she lie about why a ruby was left in her house?
Just before it was time to finish for the day, Richard gathered his team at the whiteboard in the Police station.
‘Okay, so what have we got so far?’ he asked, popping the lid on a fresh board marker.
‘Well, sir,’ Fidel said, ‘I’ve lifted the prints from the bottle of rum you got from Natasha’s