A Meditation On Murder

‘But the thing is, you have to believe me, Dominic is amazing at getting people to remember memories they’ve buried because they find them too upsetting. And if you let him hypnotise me, I bet I’ll be able to tell you how I got the knife into the Meditation Space. And why I … did what I did,’ Julia finished with a gulp.

‘Unfortunately,’ Richard said, ‘that would be totally unethical. So why don’t we just leave you here for a bit longer, and when you remember anything that might help us, you just call out. We’re only next door.’

Sensing that Camille was disappointed with this ruling, Richard returned to the main office, calling out to Fidel as he entered through the bead curtains.

‘So have you dusted the drawing pin?’

Fidel looked up from his desk in surprise.

‘Yes, sir, I have.’

‘And what did you find?’

‘Well, sir, I was only able to dust the flat bit you press down on with your thumb.’

‘Of course. But is there a fingerprint there?’

‘No, sir. There’s no print on it, it’s entirely clear.’

‘Now that is interesting,’ Richard said, excitedly.

‘Yes, sir,’ Fidel said, baffled by his boss’s sudden enthusiasm.

‘But doesn’t that just mean it’s never been used?’ Dwayne asked.

‘And that’s where you’d be wrong,’ Richard said as he started writing on the board.

‘I would?’ Dwayne asked, puzzled.

‘Yes, because I think that drawing pin was part of the killer’s plans—and they then wiped it clean of prints once it was used.’

Richard wrote up this latest development on the whiteboard, and then he took a step back to look at his handiwork.

‘Okay, Dwayne,’ Richard eventually said. ‘I want background checks on our suspects. One of the five people locked inside the Meditation Space with Aslan Kennedy killed him. Who was it? And why?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘As for you, Fidel, I want you trying to lift whatever fingerprints you can from the murder weapon. And if you can’t get any admissible prints from the handle, at least see if you can tell if it was wielded left-handed or right-handed.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Which leaves you and me, sir,’ Camille said, ‘and I think we should go back to The Retreat.’

‘You do?’ Richard asked, already suspicious of his subordinate’s motives. ‘And why exactly is that?’

‘Well, sir,’ Camille said, her eyes shining with innocence, ‘you said it yourself. There’s something about the Meditation Space that meant Aslan had to be killed in there and nowhere else. I think we need to inspect it again.’

Richard took a step towards Camille and drew himself up to his full height.

‘And this has got nothing to do with finding Dominic so we can ask him to put Julia into a hypnotic trance, has it?’

Camille was shocked by the suggestion. ‘Of course not, sir. You’ve already said that would be unethical. But there’s also the matter of the murder weapon to consider. Because if Julia didn’t have the carving knife about her person when she went into the room, it must have already been hidden in the Meditation Space beforehand. I think we need to work out how Julia got the carving knife into the murder room.’

Richard looked at Camille a very long moment.

‘And you promise that this has got nothing to do with asking Dominic to put Julia into a trance?’

‘Of course not, sir,’ Camille said, shocked by the suggestion.

‘Very good,’ he said. ‘Then I think you’re right. We should go back to The Retreat.’

Satisfied that he’d clipped Camille’s wings for once, Richard went off to get his briefcase. But what he didn’t see was the sly grin and slow wink that Camille gave Dwayne and Fidel the moment her boss’s back was turned.

Getting Dominic to put Julia into a trance was precisely why Camille wanted to go to The Retreat.

Chapter Four (#ulink_5ceb637c-9b85-538e-ac6f-966a94da642a)

Richard didn’t know when exactly it had been established that Camille would do all of the driving when they were in the police jeep. It’s not that he disliked her driving—Camille drove very well, if a little fast for Richard’s liking—but he didn’t like ceding control over any aspect of his life, and the jeep was no exception. In particular, he didn’t like how Camille would agree to drive him to one destination, and then drive him to a different one entirely.

For example, her mother Catherine’s beachside bar—which is where Richard now found himself sitting at a rickety table, being served a cup of tea by Camille’s entirely baffling mother, Catherine. But then, if Richard didn’t understand Camille, he found her mother off-the-scale impossible to comprehend. As far as Richard could tell, she only ever spoke in riddles. For example, she’d tell Richard he’d only find the answers he was looking for when he stopped looking. Which just irritated Richard; he wasn’t looking for answers. Or—on another occasion—that he wouldn’t be able to start running until he learnt how to stand still. Generally, Richard just nodded along as politely as he could to whatever she was talking about and then tried to change the subject to the weather. That was a much safer area for discussion. You knew where you were with the weather.

On this occasion, though, Camille had stopped off at her mother’s bar because she knew that Catherine had holidayed at The Retreat a number of times and knew Aslan well.

Wearing a floor-length orange dress, big silver hooped earrings and with her hair tied up in a purple silk scarf, Catherine swished over and joined them both at their rickety table on the bar’s little verandah that overlooked the bay.

‘How’s your tea?’ Catherine asked silkily as she sat down.

This was an area of conversation where Richard felt entirely on safe ground. Catherine, despite being French, made a cracking cup of tea.

‘Perfect, thank you.’

Catherine smiled in pleasure. ‘So. How can I help you both?’

‘Well, Maman,’ Camille said, ‘have you heard about the murder?’

‘Of course. Poor Aslan. I liked him very much.’

‘Camille said you knew him,’ Richard said.

‘Of course. A little.’

Catherine had run her bar for years. There weren’t many people on the island she didn’t know.

‘Then can you tell us a bit about him?’ her daughter asked.

Catherine was happy to. According to her, Rianka had come to the island a couple of decades before and had set up The Retreat on her own. In fact, as far as Catherine was concerned, Rianka was an inspiration to all single women trying to run their own business. But Catherine then explained that it was only when Rianka met and fell in love with Aslan that the business really took off. It was such a sweet romance as well. Catherine remembered it well.

‘They were both in their forties, but found love,’ she said with an encouraging smile that Richard noted seemed to be for his benefit. Why was Catherine looking at him like that?