The following morning, before heading to Saint Marie police station, Ron and Hermione stopped off at Honoré marina. Rex, Louise and Jean were all on the foredeck of the Balaska II, chatting happily.

"Fancy some ginger beer?" Rex called as the Weasleys boarded the yacht. "As George would say, we have lashings of it! Old Jamaica, so it's the proper fiery stuff!"

"That would be lovely, Rex, thank you," Hermione responded. "Nicely refreshing!

"It seems strange to be in shorts and T-shirts on official business. I can't imagine that happening in London too often. Particularly when you work at the Ministry of Magic!"

"Jack Mooney has asked me to come along with him on a further visit to Snakebite Industries," Ron stated. "If I can get a feel for any magic there, I might be able to ask Harry Dresden to get the White Council looking into things.

"Also, Hermione at the police station and I on site shall be searching for signs of any business dealings which may involve wizard companies. There must be some link between the company, the smuggling of magical items and the murder. Common sense tells us that!"

"A pureblood wizard talking positively of common sense?!" Hermione asked rhetorically. "The world is turned upside down!"

"Ron's right, though," Rex observed. "At least, we have evidence that Mr Johnstone was looking into the company in connection with the smuggling. He was murdered nearby the following day.

"Whether you call the mental process common sense or logical deduction, Hermione, it is still making a reasoned conclusion from the data. Aurors are still effectively police officers at the end of the day.

"What do you want us to do, Ron?"

"Ask a few locals if they have heard of anything called a golden porpoise, particularly if it relates to voodoo. That is our only other genuine lead currently.

"Whatever it means, it was obviously of vital importance to our victim…"

It was not unusual for Florence to find Jack discussing the current case with Harry at the shack on a beach that was the Detective Inspector's lodgings on Saint Marie. The small green lizard had been the long-term co-occupier of the comfortable building since Richard Poole's time. With Jack a widower, whose daughter Siobhan was currently at university back in the UK, he like the divorced Humphrey Goodman and the bachelor Richard Poole had found the reptile a useful sounding board. Harry was content to listen to their monologues in return for a bit of salad each day.

"There's something unusual going on here, Harry, so there is. Ron and Hermione Weasley seem to know more about this case than they are letting on. Those grins they shared when the location of the victim's parents' business mentioned was bizarre. What was so significant about the business being just off Charing Cross Road?

"Actually, that is a vague description. There are quite a few streets that could fit the bill. Why not say which?

"Then this stick and those coins about Mr Johnstone's person. Who believes ten-inches of hawthorn can defend them from a drive-by shooting? As Dwayne said, other than poking the gunman or the driver in a sensitive spot, what defence could it be? Did this community he allegedly hailed from make a form of coinage of their own? Why hasn't the Royal Mint acted against an illegal currency if so?

"Throw in the presence of their friends with Security Services' authorisation and those mysterious last words and everything is weird! We could well be on the verge of something really big and possibly really nasty!"

"You suspect our new colleagues of lying, sir?" Florence interrupted.

"Good morning, Florence. And, to answer your question, I suspect them more of being economical with the truth than of telling falsehoods.

"I can't help but feel that there is much more to the five of them being involved than we have yet been informed of…"

Hermione Weasley was clearly used to research, JP observed. She was rapidly keying entries into her laptop (which seemed slightly bulkier than usual), having requested and been granted the network and password for the Wi-Fi. She read from the pages on screen quickly and with apparently rapid comprehension and retention, for the questions she asked him about the material were clearly for clarification, particularly of local customs and practices. As he had instinctively realised, the woman was clearly brighter than just about anyone he had previously met, the Inspector and his predecessor apart.

"Do you have any family, JP?" Hermione asked. The research was going well, she felt. A few major suppliers to and buyers from Snakebite Industries had been tentatively identified. She had e-mailed a list to the small offices that liaised with the Ministry and their French equivalent, just in case they were aware of any mages who ran or were employed by the businesses on the list. Given that there was little more she could do until Ron or Rex, Louise and Jean had reported back, she felt she might as well strike up a proper chat with the friendly local officer.

"I am married to Rosey, a model. She was an old school crush of mine. We met up again when she was a suspect in a murder investigation involving a fashion show. After the culprit was caught, we started dated and married shortly afterwards."

"How romantic! Ron was my school crush too! We were wed practically straight out of our boarding school.

"What about your colleagues?"

"Dwayne's something of a womaniser, but his new girlfriend Darlene seems to have finally tamed the old rogue. DS Cassell is single, as far as I know. DI Mooney was widowed about a month before he arrived on Saint Marie just over a year ago. He has one daughter Siobhan, currently at university back in Britain.

"Funnily enough, Dwayne, DS Cassell and DI Goodman all had to go to London to follow a lead on a murder in a boat off Saint Marie. DI Mooney was their liaison at New Scotland Yard. Now, shortly before DI Goodman's new girlfriend had got a job back in London. He stayed behind with her, with DI Mooney replacing him here."

"Probably wanting a fresh start as a recently widowed man," Hermione nodded.

"Back again, Inspector?" Devon Stevens asked. "And you have a new associate with you this time, I see."

"Mr Stevens, this is Detective Chief Inspector Weasley of the Metropolitan Police in London. Apparently, Stuart Johnstone belonged to an isolated community with an interest in the occult and mystical. On a trip to Saint Marie, he visits here one day and is murdered not far from here the following morning. This is a shop that specialises in voodoo paraphernalia. You can forgive us if we consider these facts may be linked.

"Can we speak in your office please?"

Leaving shop assistant Everton Worrell in charge of the shop, Stevens led Ron and Jack through the warehouse section towards his office. Whilst Ron shared Jack and Florence's assessment of most of the merchandise within, some crates towards the back of the room seemed to radiate magic – and much of it at least borderline Dark Magic at that.

A corpulent African Caribbean man was standing by the office, alongside a slight girl of similar origins, her hair in a neat ponytail. There were two tall muscular black men behind them, both dressed in stiff suits that signalled private security officers. "Mr Stevens, I was wondering," rumbled the corpulent man, "if we could discuss recent business trends with you? There have been some unexpected factors recently that have had an impact."

"Sure, Mr Gallia. These men, however, are Detective Inspector Mooney of the Saint Marie Police and Detective Chief Inspector Weasley of the Metropolitan Police in London. Apparently, a potential customer of ours was gunned down nearby…"

"Now, Mr Stevens, I can't recall either myself, DCI Weasley or DS Cassell mentioning that he was shot, let alone "gunned down". How on earth did you know that?!" Jack Mooney, Ron thought, was clearly as quick on the uptake as his reputation suggested. "I mean, one might almost think that you know more about the murder than you are letting on…"

"There was talk of a drive-by shooting nearby a couple of days ago. The victim's description from a witness's description seemed to match the late Mr Johnstone." Stevens was also quick on the uptake, but something about his tone of voice and body language suggested to both Ron and Jack that he was not being honest with them.

"Mr Gallia," Stevens added, "is the head of one of our suppliers, Black Widow Incorporated. This is his Executive Assistant Grace Ambrose and his assistants Michael Roberts and Colin Garner.

"Now, unless you have further questions, inspectors…"

"Actually, we do have one. Where were you between 08:30 and 09:00 the day before yesterday…?"

As Jack noted Stevens' answer, Ron noticed that both Roberts and Garner seemed to have a yellow dolphin tattooed on their right wrist.

"Have any of you heard anything about a golden porpoise?!" Jean asked the patrons of Catherine's Bar. "If so, it could help the Saint Marie police with a current investigation."

Catherine smiled. There was something about the seemingly irrepressible blonde that raised your spirits whenever she was around. Her quieter, more serious sister was also proving popular, as was her affable brother-in-law. The way all three could somehow segue perfectly from general chatter to asking about the mysterious marine mammal was impressive. Catherine got the distinct impression that all three were more experienced than their apparent ages (the mid-twenties at a guess) would allow them to be.

"Nothing about a golden porpoise, but some of the people distributing those voodoo statuettes down at Port Royal have a yellow dolphin tattooed on their right wrists. Bad luck, those things." The woman who was telling Jean this shuddered. "My sister, she was brought one by some anonymous donor and has had bad luck ever since. Her husband and son were injured in an accident at the docks. They are Customs Officers, you see, and…"

"Have there been," Rex added, writing something down in a battered exercise book, "any other border officials affected by bad luck after receiving an identical anonymous gift?"

"Yes, the Port Royal and Honoré Customs Officers have had several such injuries lately, man. A bad business. They are at 'bout quarter capacity, so my brother-in-law says. Any smugglers must be having an easy time of it, man."

"Thank you for your help. Please could you bring the statuette to Saint Marie police station? Thank you.

"Louise, Jean, we need to speak to Ron and Hermione about this. It could be a breakthrough."

"Statues been unlucky is a breakthrough?" Louise asked as they left the bar. "Probably just a series of coincidences, love. That's what these superstitions usually come down to."

"Usually, I would agree, darling. A wizard murdered in connection with smuggled magical items does, however, mean that Customs Officers suddenly getting sick or injured after the mysterious gift of a voodoo item is interesting."

"Do you think the items could be actually cursed, Rex?" Jean asked.

"That's why I want Ron and Hermione to examine one. They should be able to detect if it is.

"Then we might be able to get some actual answers in this investigation."

"Black Widow Incorporated was founded in 2015 by a Mr Buonaparte Ignace Gallia the Fourth. He claims to be the great-grandson of some chap of the same name, who was supposedly the Zombie of Baron Samedi, or some similar voodoo tradition." Hermione looked up from her laptop. "I've never heard of him before…"

"I have!" Rex responded. "Buonaparte Ignace Gallia, alias Mr Big, was a Haitian-born Soviet assassin, linked to the dreaded SMERSH assassination bureau. He also ran a major vice operation in the United States and the Caribbean, based from an island off Jamaica, financed by his discovery of Sir Henry Morgan's pirate treasure trove. Finally, he was head of the Black Widow Voodoo cult, using his claim to be the living corpse of Baron Samedi and a few notorious murders to become feared, particularly around his strongholds in Harlem and Jamaica. A tall hulking chap of mixed African American and French parentage, he was truly formidable, zombie or not!

"Eventually, an old friend of mine, a Commander Bond of the British Secret Service, caught up with Mr Big in around 1954. Gallia's yacht was blown up by a mine the Commander had planted and he himself was promptly devoured by a leopard shark.

"Commander Bond is still alive. I can ask him for a full report if you so wish. He certainly regards Gallia as one of his most formidable foes." Rex didn't add that, thanks to the Royal Jelly Honey, James Bond still looked and felt like an active twenty-something, not the ninety-seven he was. That still was only twenty-one years older than Rex himself and actually a few years younger than Louise and Jean.

"Thank you, Rex," Ron nodded. "A psychotic killer with links to a voodoo cult? This is beginning to make sense. All we need is more evidence…"

There was a knock on the police station door. Dwayne answered and was surprised to be handed a statuette, golden in colour, by a woman. "I was asked to bring this here. It was given to my brother-in-law in Customs. He and my nephew were hurt in a serious accident soon afterwards. The same thing happened to other customs and immigration workers. These things bring bad luck!"

"Can we help you?" Florence asked kindly.

"Yes. That man," she pointed to Rex, "I tell him that earlier. He told me to bring it here. So, I brought it here!

"You keep it! We don't want it back. Bad luck!"

After the woman had left, Jack turned to Rex. "We don't deal with superstition here!"

"I know that! We are, however, looking for a smuggler of voodoo items. As is shown by the career of Mr Big, sending a few statuettes whilst faking dockyard accidents could be enough to create a panic."

Ron examined the statuette of a snake of some description. "I would say that this is not expensive to make or distribute. A golden dolphin is a logo on the base, alongside a large spider. There is a mention of Black Widow Incorporated."

"Well, this is evidence of some relationship between the smuggling and Black Widow Incorporated," Hermione pointed out. "There is likely to be a link between Mr Johnstone's murder, the smuggling operation and Snakebite Industries. We know that the two companies are linked.

"Rex, please contact the Commander and find out all he can tell you about Mr Big and his operation. Then, Black Widow Incorporated has its headquarters at the top of a cliff near Port Royal. There is a beach below there, with a network of caves into the rocks below, closed after a series of unfortunate accidents. If Ron, Jack and Florence ask questions at the business premises, can you, Louise and Jean inspect the caves for us please?"

"That should be possible," Louise agreed.

"Mr Big was a very dangerous man, Rex," said the tall, slender man, strands of his dark hair forming a comma over his forehead, skyped over the same monitor screen that Harry Potter had used two days prior. "He was having both me and his slave clairvoyant Solitaire keelhauled when that mine went off. We were both very lucky to survive. Then he had imprisoned poor Felix with that shark. He lost an arm and half a leg, as you know. The Big Man was feared for a reason!

"I'll send the file over the secure e-mail channel. Be careful, the three of you. If this Gallia is like his great-grandfather…"

"We might be fed to sharks!" Jean replied, slightly shakily. Both her sister and brother-in-law, she noted, were rapidly paling in complexion. "Don't worry. I think we shall be very careful!"

"What she said," Rex confirmed. "Thank you, James. That information could be of vital importance in bringing some very nasty people to justice…"

"Snakebite Industries was visited today," Buonaparte Ignace Gallia the Fourth said, "by a local police detective named Mooney and a visiting one from London. His name is Weasley…"

"Ronald Weasley?!" asked the short Englishman with bandy legs and long, straggly ginger hair that was just starting to grey. "Tall, powerful and redhaired, with a distinct West Country accent? If so, he is Harry Potter's Deputy at the Auror Office of the British Ministry of Magic."

"I couldn't place the accent, but he fits the description. Aurors are Wizard policemen, are they not?

"This Ronald Weasley. Do you know him? Is he dangerous?"

"He, his wife Hermione and their best mate and brother-in-law Harry Potter defeated the Dark Lord Voldemort back in 1998, when they were still teens. If he is on the island, we are facing one of the most formidable wizard duellists and fighters around."

"Sir! Our contact in the Saint Marie Grand Hotel," said Michael Roberts, "says there are a couple of officials from London staying there. A married couple named Weasley. A tall redhead and a petite brunette."

"Hermione Weasley, nee Granger," the Englishman confirmed, "is a senior member of the Ministry of Magic in London, specialising in magical law. Whilst a capable opponent in a fight, she is more of a researcher and administrator.

"Given their reputations and closeness to Harry Potter and Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt, the presence of the Weasleys suggests that the Johnstone murder is being taken seriously…"

"This Mrs Weasley. Is she a powerful witch?"

"More skilful than powerful, I would say."

"Hmm… Mr Roberts. You seem to have something else to say."

"Yes, boss. There were three tourists, a dark-haired British man and blonde and brunette American women. The man and the brunette claim to be newly-weds named Milligan and the blonde is her younger sister. They have been asking about a golden porpoise…"

"Rex Milligan, muggle correspondent of the British wizard paper The Quibbler recently married some Yank woman, another muggle. She and her younger sister are supposed to be private eyes, whatever they are…"

"It seems the wizard and, err, muggle authorities are on to us!" the Big Man rumbled. "There is still much for us to do. We may need to take action…"