Usual disclaimers apply.
And thanks, all you lovely reviewers! You're far kinder than I deserve, and especially the lovely HeatherTN, who has pointed out that Commissioner Patterson isn't actually a 'Sir'. You're quite right, I don't think it IS ever mentioned! Never mind, he's just wonderful, so he's been elevated in my story (as he should be, of course). There's quite a bit of his back story in this chapter, and it may well be that I have it entirely wrong so be kind... ;-)
Chapter 15
The Old British Residency in Honore was a large, white Georgian-style townhouse with all the features of that era – pillars supporting ornate fasciae, terraces and balconies running around each floor, and a large stone staircase to greet visitors at the front door. It stood within substantial and quite beautiful gardens, which were designed to represent a number of styles. There was a large kitchen garden, and a little English garden, and various tropical gardens, all bordered by well-kept lawns and gravel paths.
The building had been built by an English plantation owner who was later granted governorship of the island by King Charles II and made it his official residence. The governorship had passed through his family until the French took control of the island – at that point, the building was abandoned and fell into disrepair. When the British reclaimed Sainte-Marie, the island's Governor lived in a more modern and rather less grand residence – presumably one that cost the taxpayer a little less to maintain. The Old Residency, as it became known, passed through various private owners, growing more and more dilapidated until the early 1970s, when it was bought by a brash young businessman called Selwyn Patterson.
Patterson wasn't unknown to the locals. He was the son of a senior civil servant who had been moved from the island in early childhood when his father was called to serve in the diplomatic service in Britain. The father never returned to his home island, but the son did. He acquired the crumbling residency at a bargain place and set about restoring it to its former glory.
Local gossip suggested that he was going into the luxury hotel business and that the Old Residency would be the first of many projects, so it'd been a surprise when he'd moved in to it himself. Later, it became his family home. He became a senior civil servant with responsibility for regional business development (a role for which he received several honours, eventually a Knighthood) and then Police Commissioner. In these posts, he wasn't entitled to an official residence, but the Old Residency certainly came in useful for official parties. Popular rumour had it that he was positioning himself to take over governorship when the current incumbent, an elderly Englishman, retired. He would be a popular choice as the islanders would much prefer to be governed by one of their own.
Although Humphrey didn't much enjoy having to court Sir Selwyn's good favour in order to get the additional resources he wanted, he quite liked the Commissioner on a personal level. Any scandal would not be good for the man's reputation and would certainly put an end to any political ambitions he might have. At the same time, he was not prepared to overlook any criminal activity, even if it put him at odds with his team. It was an awkward situation, and he prayed that the Commissioner would be able to explain the matter satisfactorily.
They were ushered into his home office by his PA. Sir Selwyn stood and came around his desk towards them, smiling broadly.
"Detective Inspector! And Sergeant Bordey too! I am glad to see you. Will you join me for tea? I was about to have some."
Humphrey paused; the words and the smile seemed a little at odds with the phone requesting an urgent visit. However, the PA was still present, and it was possible that the Commissioner wanted to keep the matter private. He assented and then followed Camille and Sir Selwyn through some French doors onto the shady ground-floor terrace.
It was pleasantly cool on the terrace; the wind blew in gently from the sea and rustled through the leaves of the bougainvillea that climbed the pillars. Sir Selwyn made pleasant small talk while tea was served along with a selection of sandwiches and scones. The tea was refreshing, and Humphrey found himself wondering whether Richard had ever joined Sir Selwyn for tea. It didn't sound as if Richard had cared for the man much and it would be just like the wily old Commissioner to conveniently 'forget' his DI's passion for tea, so he rather doubted it. Camille was looking around with interest as if she'd rarely been here before.
The view was pretty impressive. The Residency was situated on a rise about the main town, so beyond the gardens and the white wall marking the boundary, they could see boats bobbing in the harbour and the beautiful bay beyond.
"I can see why they built it here," he mused.
Sir Selwyn smiled. "It can be useful to see the comings and goings."
He glanced over his shoulder. Having poured the tea and served the food, his butler had disappeared back through the French doors. Immediately, the genial smile dropped from his face.
"I must admit I was expecting you to call earlier today. First of all, may I say how very glad I am that you survived your ordeal yesterday with relatively minor injuries." He glanced at Camille, clearly noting the bruises on her face. "Not that I in any way minimise the severity, and I do hope you will take some time to recuperate. But you are not here to discuss that. You are here about Emilia Lawrence."
Humphrey glanced at Camille. "Possibly, yes. But actually there was something else that we needed to discuss."
Without any preamble, he removed the wallet from his pocket, opened it and retrieved the cheque, holding it out to the Commissioner.
After just a fraction's hesitation, Patterson took it from Humphrey's fingers, flattened it out on the table and looked at it, his face impassive.
"We – er – we found it in the house of the man who abducted us yesterday. Can you explain how he might have come by it, Sir?"
Patterson was silent for a moment. Lifting his gaze from the cheque, he looked out over his well-tended grounds. Humphrey and Camille watched him, silently.
Eventually, he spoke. "Yes, I can." He looked intently at each of them in turn. "It is, however, an extremely awkward matter, and I would appreciate your discretion."
Humphrey coughed. "Of course – but you do understand that if there is anything that is likely to come up in a court case, I would have no choice but to reveal it? This man is a drug-runner."
"Of course, of course." The Commissioner waved a hand dismissively – as Police Commissioner, he probably hadn't expected anything else. "First of all, if this is the same man – and I did not realise that, or I would certainly have told you earlier – I can tell you who he is. His name is Ernest Nieto and he's originally from Guatemala. He used to work here, on Sainte-Marie, for an American businesswoman by the name of Jessica Law. I can assure you that I knew nothing about the drug running…although I should not be surprised, knowing what I do of the man."
Camille frowned. "Jessica Law? The name sounds familiar… Doesn't she run the Arcadia hotel chain? I think we've had her in on speeding charges once or twice."
Patterson inclined his head. "The very same Ms Law. Nieto was her estate manager and general right-hand man. I imagine they fell out at some point, or he did something that was bad enough to make her sack him. This was some years ago, and he left Sainte-Marie and fell off the radar. I had taken note of that, because I was Deputy Police Commissioner by then, and he was suspected of having been involved in some petty criminal activities – just on the periphery, you know, and not quite involved enough to build up a case against him. I was relieved when he left the island and assumed he had returned to his home country… And quite possibly he did for a while. Anyway, he had not been to Sainte-Marie since, as far as I knew, so it was quite a shock as you can imagine seeing him here – at the Residency – two days' ago."
He paused, taking a delicate sip of his tea before continuing. "He was dressed as a gardener – I sometimes contract in extra staff to work on the gardens, particularly at this time of year. I asked him what he was doing in my office, but even as I did so, I recognised him." The Commissioner smiled, ruefully. "He knew certain…facts… and he wanted money to stay silent. Quite a lot of money."
"And you gave it to him?" Camille sounded incredulous. "Forgive me, Sir, but surely you must have been concerned that he would come back for more?"
The Commissioner sighed, rubbing his forehead. "If the blackmail had been aimed at me alone, I would have refused immediately. I can survive any amount of so-called scandal. However, it was aimed at some very good friends of mine… I didn't intend for the cheque to go through the bank – it was just a way of getting him out of the office and buying some time to talk it through with those affected. But then, when I heard what happened to Emilia yesterday, I feared I was too late."
Humphrey put down his cup and leaned forward. "Does this blackmail concern the Lawrences?"
Sir Selwyn paused again, but Humphrey didn't push. He could sense that the man was struggling with some kind of decision.
Eventually, the Commissioner pushed back his chair and stood. He moved across the terrace to lean on the white railings. "What I have to tell you…remains here. You understand? Not because of my reputation -," he added, giving them a stern glance. "- but because the safety of certain individuals might be compromised. Is that clear?"
He focused on Humphrey, who met his eyes unflinchingly. "I can't make any assurances, Sir Selwyn. It depends on what you have to tell us… But I will do my utmost to respect your privacy. You have my promise."
The Commissioner seemed to accept this. He nodded and rubbed his face again. Humphrey noticed that he remained at the rail, his face in profile, as if he would rather not look at them as he told his story.
"When I became a civil servant… No." He stopped and smiled slightly. "No, I find I must go back even further. I was the son of a diplomat, and I spent much of my childhood in Britain. I left here when I was six. You can imagine the culture shock! I am not just referring to the change in temperature. I can tell you that 1960s Britain was not the most accepting of societies for a young black boy. Of course, at my young age, most of the implications bypassed me, but I was still aware that it was considered unusual for my father as a non-Caucasian to be as rich and as powerfully connected as he was."
Watching the self-assured Sir Selwyn as he leaned on the rail, taking in the spoils of a deeply successful life, Humphrey found it hard to imagine him as a small nervous Caribbean boy in racist 1960s Britain, but he could tell by the dark tone in the Commissioner's voice that there were many tales that he could tell about that experience.
"Later, I was sent from my father's home to board at Harrow, and as so many of the sons of foreign-born diplomats did also, I did not fare so badly there. I was an only child and my mother did not come to Britain, but at school, I made friends. I cannot – from this distance, I don't think I can convey the sense of – of camaraderie that one experiences in such a situation. Far from my home island, living in a largely hostile country, with a father who was distant enough that he might as well have been on the other side of the world… You develop friendships – and certain entitlements - that stay with you for life."
Humphrey noticed that, as he emphasised the word 'entitlements', Patterson's fingers clenched tightly around the railings.
"While I was at Harrow, I made two such friendships in particular. One was with Clive Lawrence – he was the son of a diplomat like me, except his parents were white and English, and therefore far more socially acceptable. The other was with another white boy called Jonathan Masters. He was the son of a wealthy city banker, and from a completely different background. Still, the three of us remained firm friends throughout our school days.
"I lost touch with Clive after school – he went to Cambridge to study law. I was destined for Oxford, but I rebelled." He smiled, reminiscently. "My parents had recently divorced and, as a young black man in the early 1970s, I rejected all that my father stood for. I determined that I would have nothing to do with the racist country I found myself living in – I rejected the politics and the culture of the British government and her institutions. I aspired to be a self-made man. I would take none of my father's 'tainted' money and I would return to Sainte-Marie to make something of myself. As you can see, I was an ambitious eighteen-year-old. I worked hard – started out working as a humble office boy at a plantation, but I was smart and I worked my way up to manager level. When I was twenty-one, I inherited some money of my own from my grandmother, and I made some good investments – both here and in various locations around the Caribbean. As the investments grew and I found myself with money to spend, I bought this property, as you probably know. That was my way of 'getting back' at the country that had raised me. To take over one of its remaining colonial symbols and make it my own."
He paused, taking in his view for a moment longer before turning and walking back to his seat.
"This is the part of the story that becomes more difficult… During this period, I kept in touch with Jonathan Masters by correspondence. He had gone to work in the City and would write to tell me how he was getting on. But then, after a few years, the letters stopped. One day, he turned up, quite unexpectedly, on my doorstep. He said he'd left his job in the City. He would not tell me why but, looking back, I think it highly likely he was sacked for some misdemeanour. He told me he had a small amount of money to invest and wanted to set up a luxury travel business. I…helped him out." He met Humphrey's eyes. "I think it's true to say that, in business, it is very hard to be both successful and honest at the same time. There are rules that can be…bent a little. Having said that, I did not to my knowledge break the law at any time."
"When you say helped out…" Humphrey said, slowly.
"I…oiled the wheels, you might say. Introduced him to useful contacts. He wanted to go into partnership with me. I was not interested in getting involved in a luxury travel company, but he…called in old favours, I suppose. Reminded me of our school days, of our friendship, of the holidays I spent at his parent's home, that kind of thing. So…reluctantly, I agreed to invest a small amount of money on his behalf.
"I very soon came to realise that I had made a mistake. Jonathan was nothing like the boy I remembered…or perhaps -," he smiled, ironically, "- perhaps I had simply grown up. I was engaged to be married by then, and I had reconciled with my father. I was beginning to feel the call towards public service. From a business point of view, it did work – for a while. Jonathan had always been an astute businessman and I did very well out of the connection. But then…I began to grow concerned about some of his business practices. They weren't illegal, but they were not particularly ethical either, and it didn't seem to me that they benefited the island.
"Also, I grew concerned by Jonathan's erratic behaviour. He started to drink heavily and grew less reliable as a business partner. I was married by then with a child on the way, and I decided on a change of career. I became the Business Development Advisor at Government House. I dissolved our partnership and took my share of the money. It was quite amicable. He then went into partnership with Jessica Law, an American hotelier who had moved to Sainte-Marie and was known to both of us."
He paused to offer them a refill from the silver teapot before continuing his story. "By pure chance, I met Clive Lawrence again. I had attended a conference in London on investment in British Overseas Territories, and he was there as a legal advisor to the Government. We kept in touch after that and when a vacancy arose for a temporary legal advisor at Government House in Honore, with a six-month contract, he applied for the post. It was something of a whim, I think. He'd got stuck in a rut – he was bored with his legal practice in London and wanted a new challenge.
"By then, I was running my own department, and one of my assistants was a young woman called Donata Romizi. Her father was Italian but her mother British, and she had lived on the island most of her life." He smiled again; this time, there was an edge of sadness to it. "She was a… remarkable young woman. Fiercely intelligent, passionate about her job, charming and very beautiful. And…one could not help loving her. As for Clive – I think he fell in love with her from the moment he met her. And she felt the same way. He was supposed to stay only for six months, but they married very quickly and he stayed on, transferring to a junior but more permanent post in the diplomatic service. My wife and I became firm friends with them. Our sons grew up together.
"Donata was ambitious and wanted to continue working even after having her children, which was unusual for Sainte-Marie in the 1970s. So Clive stayed in a relatively junior post while she continued to work with me for some years. When I became Deputy Police Commissioner, she was promoted to Business Development Advisor. She received a lot of criticism for being a poor mother - she and Clive both - but they were happy and didn't care about idle island gossip. And those boys of theirs were growing into fine young men – they certainly didn't suffer from having a mother at work.
"However, Clive was eventually promoted to a senior diplomatic post. As his work took him abroad quite often, she needed to be at home more with their children. Also, I suppose they no longer needed the security of a dual income. So, finally and very reluctantly, she handed in her notice.
"Before she left, she and I had been dealing with a case involving my old partner, Jonathan Masters. He'd fallen on hard times – made some unfortunate decisions, and he'd never been that financially secure in the first place. He'd always been reliant on a partner. He had set up an illegal pyramid scheme, and Donata and I worked together to close it down. He expected me to go easy on him because of past loyalty, but this time around I refused to play his game. A large number of investors lost money in the scheme and he went on trial, was found guilty of fraud and was given a five year prison sentence. He chose to serve that sentence in Britain.
"What I didn't know at the time was that Masters had more money than he had claimed. He had hidden it in various accounts, and his American partner, Jessica Law, had access to many of them. Before he went to trial, she took a lot of the money and moved it into other bank accounts." He paused. "Donata had her suspicions and discussed them with me. Jessica Law had denied all knowledge of the scheme and there was no evidence to connect her to it. I told Donata to let it go – I clearly remember her even at her leaving party, talking to me about it in a low voice, and I remember telling her to forget about it and go and enjoy her special day. But she didn't. After she left, she started looking into matters on her own, compiling her evidence and updating me."
He looked down at his hands as they watched him. Humphrey realised that he was struggling to go on; that the story was too painful to recall. He feared that he knew all too well where this was going, but he schooled himself to keep quiet and allowed Sir Selwyn get to the point in his own good time.
"I kept telling her to leave it alone. I – I'm ashamed to admit now that I didn't think it was that important. I thought it highly likely that Ms Law had taken some of Masters' money, but I didn't expect the amounts to be significant – Masters was known to be profligate in his spending and I didn't expect him to have managed to save so much. But Donata discovered just how much money had been stolen. It would have been enough to have paid off the investors who had lost their money in the pyramid scheme…
"I can remember that day quite vividly. Clive was away in St Kitts, chairing a trade meeting. Donata rang my office – she sounded excited, they told me later. She had told them that she was bringing something to show me… She was no more than twenty minutes from Government House by car, so when I came out of my meeting an hour later and was given the message, I was confused that she was not already there. I assumed at first that she had been held up… but then, there was a phone call from the police station. They had found her car on the rocks beneath the cliffs. It had burnt out and the occupant was too badly burnt to be identified, but some of her personal possessions had fallen from it when it dropped, and they had a fair idea who the driver was. It was a notorious stretch of coast road, and there had been accidents before…but then Donata knew it well and she was usually a safe driver. I could only assume she had been too focused on her exciting news to drive safely."
He swallowed quickly, looking away. "I – I can't tell you what it was like, going to the school to collect Jules and Josh. They were fourteen and twelve then. My wife Bernadine took care of them while I contacted Clive and arranged for him to come back as quickly as possible. And then there was the memorial service – and Clive and the boys, all neatly turned out and their faces white as a sheet. With all that going on, I completely forgot about the reason why she was coming to see me. If I did think about it, I must have assumed that any evidence she had was destroyed in the car with her.
"Clive asked me to sort out her home office. I don't believe he could bear to do it – he had already asked Bernadine to sort out and dispose of her clothes and personal effects. Also, he thought it likely that most of the paperwork she had at home would be related to my old department anyway, and I would have more of an idea of what to do with it.
"Donata…she was a very clever woman. She had made copies of everything. She had proof - of every last cent that Masters had taken off his victims, of where Jessica Law had moved the money to, even of what she had spent it on. She had built up a case that would have destroyed Ms Law and could have seen her jailed for five years.
"She had even taken note of the fact that she was being followed. Without telling Clive, presumably because she didn't want him to worry, she had taken meticulous notes of the times and locations, the model and registration number of the car following her, and a description of the man driving it. I don't know quite how seriously she had taken it – seriously enough that she had spoken to the school, telling them that no one apart from her was to collect the boys. And yet, she hadn't reported it to the police. Perhaps she thought that they – we – wouldn't believe her. I'll never know.
"Anyway, I was growing suspicious that the accident was not quite as it seemed. I traced the car's registration number and found it was one of Jessica Law's fleet of vehicles, used by her hotel staff for deliveries, to travel across the island between her hotels, and so on. I took a note of the dates, times and locations and instructed the local DI to talk to Ms Law and investigate who had been in possession of the vehicle during those periods. We were very discreet, merely suggesting that the driver might be a vital witness to certain crimes, and Ms Law seemed quite happy to help, although she said it was difficult for her staff to remember for certain who might have been out at those times, and she herself had nothing to do with the allocation of the staff cars.
"I mentioned my suspicions to Clive, but he was not interested. All the spark and energy had gone out of him; they had died along with Donata. All he cared about was his sons, and he was no longer convinced that Sainte-Marie was a good environment for them. He sought a transfer to London, with the idea that he might settle them with their grandparents in the quiet English countryside. When I tried to reason with him that her death might have been murder and we needed to investigate, he grew angry and didn't want to know. He accused me of bringing up a painful subject, when he just wanted to forget and move on for the sake of his children.
"I wasn't entirely sure what to do. In my possession, I had easily enough evidence to charge Ms Law with theft and fraud on a grand scale. All I had to do was present the evidence to the Prosecutor. And yet, I hesitated. I wanted to hold out for a murder investigation, but I didn't have enough proof. I didn't want Jessica Law to know I was investigating her until I had that evidence.
"But, as it turned out, she was far cleverer than I realised. She must have known or suspected that Donata had passed on her evidence to me. One day, at home, I received an anonymous envelope. Inside, there was no letter, just a few photocopied pages." He paused. "What I had been sent was proof that Clive Lawrence had given money to Jonathan Masters to set up the pyramid scheme. The documentation, if released, would be enough for him to be tried for abetting fraud.
"When I questioned Clive, he admitted it. Jonathan had done as he had with me – presented himself as a friend in need and played on old loyalties. Usually, Clive was extremely cautious in matters of money and would investigate all possible legal loopholes, but on this occasion he was persuaded. He obviously didn't know the true nature of the scheme that his money was supporting, but that wouldn't have been a good enough excuse – he had his signature on documents that included its name. He had thought that Jonathan was setting up a franchise for yoga retreats – something of that nature. And, in the end, he'd partly done it to make Jonathan go away and stop pestering him. Donata would never have let him invest if she'd known anything about it."
"Do you think she knew that he was involved?" Camille asked. "Perhaps she had been sent the same documents? If she had known, wouldn't she have been quite agitated? Perhaps it wasn't a deliberate crash after all?"
Sir Selwyn looked at her. "I did wonder that…but no. I don't believe she did. If she had, she wouldn't have been rushing to see me at work in the middle of the morning. She would have had it out with Clive first and then spoken to me privately. Well…I suppose we will never know."
He looked directly at Humphrey, his face quite unapologetic. "So…I destroyed the evidence. I took those incriminating documents and all the work that Donata had done to expose a thief and fraudster and quite possibly a murderer… and I burned the lot to ashes. I knew it was wrong – I knew that if I was ever found out, it would be the end of my career…but I did it anyway. For Clive and for Julien and Joshua. I betrayed Donata's trust and all that she stood for – to save her husband and sons."