Usual thumbs-up to my lovely reviewers and usual disclaimer.

Chapter 18

The bungalow that Joshua Lawrence had headed in the direction of was partly suspended over a lake on stilts. A wooden walkway led directly onto a balcony that encircled the little building. As they walked as quietly as possible around the side, Humphrey saw that it was rather like a pavilion, with a larger balcony and an open-plan area at the front, overlooking the lake. If you could ignore the patent artificiality, the outlook was quite pleasant.

The area was dimly lit, but they could see that the glass doors to the open-plan area were slid back. Joshua Lawrence was seated on the floor in front of them. He perched cross-legged with some notes on his knees that he was reading by the light from a small lamp.

He looked up at them with a smile, seeming unsurprised by their sudden appearance. "I did wonder how long it would take for you to come and see me." He extended a hand rather lazily, without getting up. "You must be Detective Inspector Humphrey Goodman – am I right?"

Humphrey leaned over and shook his hand a little dubiously. "You are right – and this is Detective Sergeant Camille Bordey. And you're Joshua Lawrence...but you're not travelling under that name, are you?"

Joshua shook his head, appearing amused at Humphrey's suspicion. "I'm not travelling on a fake passport, if that's what you're thinking. I reverted to my mother's maiden name a few years' ago. My passport gives my name as Michael Joshua Romizi, which is quite correct, as I was christened Michael Joshua. I keep Joshua Lawrence for professional purposes, as it's how I'm known in the circles I operate in. You can call me Josh if you like."

His easy manner seemed genuine, but Humphrey continued to view him with reservation. "And how do you know me?"

Josh suddenly pushed his pile of notes off his lap and stood up. "I'm sorry, I'm being very rude… I'm a bit of a hermit sometimes actually, it's the nature of the job I do. I need my space and plenty of peace and quiet while I'm working. But I do have some manners, although my sister-in-law might dispute that…"

He grabbed his notes, moved inside the sliding doors to deposit them on a desk and pressed a switch. Ambient lighting illuminated the building, and they found themselves stepping into a large open-plan lounge/dining room area with a small kitchenette at one end of it. It was designer minimalist but quite peaceful and charming for all that.

Josh Lawrence smiled as they looked around them. "Not really my style. Belongs to my brother Jules, and I don't earn enough to afford something like this. It's not too bad, though."

He waved casually at a framed black-and-white photograph on the wall, and they saw an attractive couple in their late thirties, the man sharing his brother's fair colouring although his features were rather broader and more 'English'-looking.

"That's Jules and his wife Ellie. She's OK – she puts up with me pretty well. And Jules still looks out for me, like any big brother would. Actually, that can be quite annoying, but it's also useful when your extremely rich older brother allows you to stay in one of his holiday homes…especially when one of them quite coincidentally happens to be in the very location that you need to travel to."

Humphrey had a better view of him in the additional light. Josh Lawrence was a pleasant-looking man in his late thirties, around Humphrey's own age. He was very much his mother's son with her delicate features evident in his intelligent, good-humoured face. His voice was also pleasant but a little unusual – he was well-spoken in the way that most ex-British public schoolboys tended to be, but there was just an impression of a foreign accent in his emphasis of certain syllables. Humphrey wondered whether he'd picked up accents from travelling abroad so much. There was something quite youthful and energetic about the man but at the same time, his thin tanned face carried creases from tropical sun exposure that made him look older than his approximately thirty-seven years.

Humphrey found himself warming towards the man – he appeared to have inherited his mother's natural charm. The full force of that charm was currently focused on Camille as he looked at her in an appraising manner while shaking her hand. His appraisal wasn't flirtatious though; rather, it was briskly professional as if he was sizing up her qualities very quickly to decide if he could trust her. Humphrey supposed it was a skill he had cultivated during his years of investigative journalism. He evidently liked what he saw, as he smiled warmly at her and gestured towards the leather sofa.

"Can I get you a drink? I'm afraid I don't run to cocktails, but there should be some beer around here somewhere."

"It's OK, thanks." Humphrey answered for them both as he sat down next to Camille. "You didn't say how you knew me?"

Josh looked startled. "I'm surprised you need to ask. You've solved some pretty high-profile murders here, Inspector Goodman, not least that of your predecessor. The cases occasionally get reported in the UK press, especially if a Brit is involved. And I looked you up when I knew I'd be coming back here – it seemed sensible to check out the local police force. And then I recognised you down at the beach this evening, so I suspected you might want to see me. I can't change your mind about that beer?"

As they shook their heads, he turned to fetch one for himself, and Humphrey took the opportunity to glance at Camille and get her impression. She looked back at him, one eyebrow arched in a way that told him she hadn't made up her own mind about Josh Lawrence yet. There was something a little creepy about the way he knew Humphrey well enough to recognise him at the beach bar even though they had never met. And had he known that they had followed him? He didn't seem that surprised to see him…and there was the way he had paused under the lamplight and deliberately turned around so that anyone watching could see his face clearly. Was that a signal to them to follow him?

He came back from the fridge with a beer bottle and perched on the edge of an armchair, facing them. He gave the impression of someone who wasn't used to elegant living and would have been just as comfortable sitting on an upturned crate. His appearance seemed to suggest that too; his blond hair was bleached even whiter by strong sun and his clothes, although good quality, looked creased and well-travelled.

He took a big gulp of beer and then raised his eyebrows at them. "So? I suppose you want to know why I'm here?"

"Certainly that," Humphrey responded, watching him carefully. "But we also want to know where you were between the hours of 5AM and 8AM yesterday morning.

As far as he could tell, the sudden surprise in Josh's face was quite genuine. "Oh… Am I under investigation then?"

"Why else would you expect us to be here? Knowing that we're police officers you must have guessed that we were investigating something."

"Well, yes, but…" He gestured towards his pile of papers. "I assumed you had come to me for my help, not… When did you say?"

"Between the hours of 5 and 8.30 yesterday morning," Camille repeated patiently.

"OK. Well, I don't have an alibi for all of that time, but I was with Emilia Lawrence for part of it." Josh put down his bottle, clearly recognising the seriousness of the matter. "My half-sister – she's here on the island with my father and his second wife. She can vouch for me…assuming she even remembers seeing me," he added darkly, under his breath.

Humphrey let the final cryptic comment go for the moment. "What time was that?"

"I can't give you the exact time, but I had arranged to meet her at a party. I can give you the address. I wanted to meet her there because I'm trying to stay low-key and ironically it's easier to do that in a crowded place. We were supposed to meet much earlier, around two, but I was held up. The man I was hoping to meet first kept me waiting – in fact, he messed me around so much that in the end, it was sometime after six that morning when I finally got to her." He grimaced. "She wasn't best pleased to be kept hanging around, I can tell you. I'm surprised she bothered to wait."

"How long were you with her?"

Josh paused. "Not long. About ten minutes I would guess, fifteen at the outside. I'd asked her to check out something for me and… well, let's just say that she didn't react all that well to whatever it was that she found out. I didn't get a chance to find out what."

"And where did you go after that?" Camille asked.

Josh paused. "I'm… not sure I can tell you without revealing why I'm here. And I don't know how much you already know about what I'm investigating…"

"Ok." Humphrey put up a hand. "We'll go into that…but first of all, how well do you know your half-sister?"

"Emilia? Hardly at all, as a matter of fact. We didn't – the two branches of the family didn't exactly get on, you might say. So I knew she existed, but I never bothered to get in touch. It was only when I was investigating something related to the family and I realised that she might be able to help me obtain some information that I obtained her details and contacted her. I know how bad that sounds, but frankly I was never really encouraged to keep in touch. So…I needed help and it was either her or her brother Eddie. I arranged to meet them both – casually, you know – and I could tell right off that he wouldn't be reliable enough, but she was a different story. So I kept in contact and we met up a couple of times in London before she came out here." He paused. "She's a nice kid – very bright. Reminds me a lot of my mother, which is odd considering they're not related."

Humphrey glanced at Camille and she gave an imperceptible nod. He leaned forward. "So I take it that you've not heard the news? Josh, I'm very sorry to be the one to tell you this, but…Emilia is dead. She died at that party, not long after meeting you."

For a moment Josh didn't react. The colour drained out of his face as he sat staring at Humphrey. And then he shook his head for a moment as if testing his hearing. He huffed out an odd little laugh and ran a shaky hand through his hair, his eyes downcast.

"I'm sorry – you'll have to… I – I didn't expect that. That can't be right… she's dead? Are you sure it's her?"

Humphrey was quite used to people not believing the news at first and needing it to be reinforced. It was simply a stage in the psychological process. He went on, patiently: "Yes. I'm really sorry, but there's definitely no mistake."

"How did it… how did she…"

He seemed unable to say the words, but Camille took pity on him, leaning forward. "She was injected with a drug that gave her a heart attack."

Humphrey noticed that she was careful not to give away too many details, but Josh was too much the journalist not to notice the use of the passive tense. "Was injected? You mean she didn't do it herself?"

"We think it may have been done deliberately," she added, a little cautiously.

Josh winced. "Jesus. That's just so… What a horrible way to die…" His voice broke and he was silent for a moment, looking at the floor. They waited, not wanting to intrude on his obvious grief. When he looked up again, although his expression was still a little dazed, his eyes were sharp. "Do you think that the person, whoever it was, actually intended to kill her or did they mean to just incapacitate her for a while? I mean, was it something that would certainly have killed her immediately or some kind of recreational drug that she had a bad reaction to?"

Humphrey and Camille exchanged impressed glances, appreciating the man's intelligence. That was, in fact, a very good point… Plenty of people did survive speedball, although the risks of sudden death were much higher with the specific combination. It might have been that the perpetrator really hadn't intended her to die. Could it have even been a cruel joke that went tragically wrong? Were they barking up the wrong tree? But no – his detective senses were telling him that this had been set up to look like a more simple overdose. If it had been an unfortunate accident, then why the amateurish attempt to hide the fact that speedball had been injected by deliberately placing a cigarette burn over the injection site?

"It's a possibility," he admitted, slowly.

"God," Josh breathed, his eyes stark and horrified. "Emilia… If I had thought there was any risk, I would never have…" He stopped, his eyes flying to Humphrey and Camille as the full implications hit him. "I didn't kill her. You have to believe me."

Humphrey looked at him for a long moment before sighing and nodding his head. "I know you didn't… but you may be able to help us. You need to tell us exactly what you're investigating, in case it's related to her death."

"Of course…" Josh paused again, but they didn't push him, sensing that he needed a moment to get his thoughts together. Eventually, he sighed and looked up at them again. "I didn't know her all that well, didn't have time to, but from what I could see she was a good kid, you know? There was something about her – some kind of quality. I don't think she ever took drugs. I - I liked her. God, I wish I'd known her growing up."

"Why didn't you?" Camille asked.

"Truthfully? I didn't think any good would come out of that marriage." Josh picked up his bottle and took a large swig of it. "I…well, hate is too strong a word. I didn't trust her – Emma, I mean. I guess I was just being a difficult teenage boy, devoted to the memory of a dead mother and resenting a new step-mother who wasn't that much older than me. Or maybe it was because Jules didn't like her either." He shook his head. "I don't know. It was an instinct. Anyway, Dad had been quite distant from the moment we left Sainte-Marie for England, so it wasn't as if she was intruding on a happy united family or anything. I was pretty much living with my grandparents by then. I met Dad and Emma a couple of times before the wedding, and then I visited a handful of times up until I was eighteen, just before University. Eddie was a toddler then and she was expecting Emilia. I didn't see her again after I went away to study. I just never went home again – not that 'home' was with them, but you know what I mean. I moved on, left my family behind me. For a while, I lived abroad. I used to see Dad from time to time when we were in the same country, but he never invited me to their home again and I never asked to go."

"So…you're a finance journalist, is that right?"

"Well, more an investigative journalist. I uncover institutional corruption. It just so happens that it often concerns financial institutions."

"And your brother is head of investment at Barclay's Bank," Humphrey commented, drily. "A little awkward, isn't it?"

Josh gave a shaky smile; he was still clearly shell-shocked by the news and that, more than anything else, convinced Humphrey that he'd had nothing to do with Emilia's murder. But had he seen the murderer?

"I'm not saying that Jules is any more moral than the rest of that bunch, but he keeps within the law. I'm only concerned with those who don't." He shrugged. "As a career, it just seemed like the way to go. I certainly didn't want the City. I could have gone into the Civil Service – I'm sure Dad would have liked that – but it struck me that they seem to spend most of their time trying to maintain the status quo of colonialism and unfair privilege. I went into charity work for a while – worked as a UNICEF representative out in Egypt and Sudan – but I always had a skill for writing and I realised I might be able to reach a larger audience by going into journalism. Plus I got so frustrated with the fraud that went on in charity work – having to bribe border guards just so you could deliver the food that was going to save the lives of their own people. Drove me crazy."

"So, what happened to bring you here?"

Josh stood up suddenly. "I need another drink. You going to join me this time, Inspector, Sergeant?" he added over his shoulder as he walked into the kitchen.

Humphrey paused and looked at Camille again. She seemed more relaxed, and taking that as further evidence that he could trust this man, he called out. "Yes, why not? And call me Humphrey."

Josh paused for a few moments as he dragged a low table over and deposited three beer bottles on them. He sat back and watched pensively as Humphrey and Camille helped themselves.

"OK. First of all, how much do you know about how my mother died?"

Humphrey nodded at Camille, who neatly summarised Selwyn Patterson's story. Josh listened intently and then nodded.

"I knew most of that, although some of it was new. A couple of years' ago, my Grandmother died. You need to understand that Gran and Granddad more-or-less raised us after we returned to England. We spent all my holidays from school with them. Dad either wasn't bothered or was too busy, I'm not sure which. Not that it matters."

There was a note of bitterness in his voice and Humphrey recalled that happy family photo that Patterson had shown him. Had Clive Lawrence always been that cold or had Donata's death changed him fundamentally?

"When Gran died, I was in South Africa and it took me a couple of days to fix things up and get home. I only just made the funeral. Granddad had died a few years' before, so it was just Jules, Ellie and I, really. And Dad came too, but Emma, Eddie and Emilia didn't. Gran had never liked Emma much, although I believe she was fond of Eddie and Emilia. She remembered us all in her will – she shared what she had, which wasn't an awful lot, equally between her four grandchildren. Dad didn't get anything, but I don't believe he had expected to and he has plenty of money himself.

"But, after the will had been read, her solicitor handed me a large A4 envelope stuffed with papers and a letter from Gran. She'd written it a few years' before, for my attention after her death. She'd agonised over it for ages but eventually thought that it was something I should know about…only she hadn't wanted to get involved because it had caused her too much pain at the time."

He stood up and walked over to the desk. His fingers fell on a pile of papers and he stood, looking at them, as if trying to make his mind up about something.

"The papers included letters from the Deputy Police Commissioner, Selwyn Patterson, addressed to my grandparents. In the first, he commiserated with them on Mum's death and said that if there was anything he could do to assist them, or Dad, Jules and I, they were welcome to get in touch any time. Gran must have been a little suspicious about my mother's accident and must have written to him asking questions, because in the second letter, he told her that he might have some evidence that it wasn't an accident, but that he couldn't investigate without Dad's consent. He implied that there might be some difficulties and that Dad's name might be linked with a court case, and that they needed to talk to Dad and decide whether the risk was worth it before he would do anything."

He looked up at them, tapping the papers under his hand. "I have those letters right here if you need them…but it sounds as if the Commissioner has already given you the story from his point of view. Anyway, in her letter Gran said she'd talked to Granddad about it at length. She'd wanted to contact Patterson again and look further into it, but Granddad was of the view that she should just let it go. Neither of them had known Mum all that well – they'd only met her and us on a few short visits – so from his point of view, it was quite possible that she was a reckless driver. Also he was suspicious of Patterson's motives. I guess he was worried about the effect on us, as well. So, after a few blistering arguments with him, she decided to put the letters away and try to forget about it. Clearly, she didn't."

He walked back over to his chair and sank heavily into it, staring at his hands.

"I began to do some digging. I guessed that Mum had found out something that could bring someone quite rich or powerful down and that she might have been silenced as a result. I looked back through the files and found out about the court case which ended in Jonathan Masters going down for financial fraud. Since it was the last case she'd worked on before leaving, I wondered whether there was some connection. I knew he'd chosen to serve his sentence in Britain, so I did some further digging and tracked him down."

He looked up at them, a faint smile on his face. "Here's the thing. Masters was released on good behaviour after two and a half years. After his release, he moved into a house in Staines under an assumed name – a large, four-bedroomed house in a fairly affluent area near the river. And yet he'd declared himself bankrupt, and he really had been – he had no money in any bank account when he left prison. And he never worked again. So how could he possibly afford his lifestyle?"

"Hang on a minute," Humphrey interrupted, frowning. "How on earth did you find out all this information about him?"

"I know certain people who can bypass the online security systems and retrieve any information you ask them for. There's no such thing as security for these people." He shook his head at the look on Humphrey's face. "I'm not going to reveal names. Sorry. I only use my contacts to locate the information I really need – and I don't exploit it. I meant no harm to Masters – he'd served his time for the crime he committed. If I had found out that he'd had no connection to my mother's death, I would have simply wished him well and made sure I destroyed everything I had on him. But it was too late anyway."

"Oh? Why was that?" Humphrey asked.

"Because -," Josh continued, giving them a significant look, "- by the time I'd done my investigations and was ready to confront him, Jonathan Masters was already dead."