A Foreboding of Petrels, page 24
‘The location…’ he said finally.
‘Latitude 24.18, longitude -43.37,’ recited Jejeune. ‘It is at the North Atlantic’s point of inaccessibility.’
‘And this was a significant place for Gaya, you believe?’
‘I think she wanted to experience what Alex Kasabian must have felt. To die alone and isolated, in a place as remote from the rest of humanity as possible.’
‘As what? Penance? You believe she was responsible for Alex Kasabian’s death?’
‘She told me she was.’
‘She confessed?’
‘She told me she was the person who approved the 300-Club event. She also confirmed she had access to the supply room, where she could have replaced a radio after Amy Della had completed an inventory the morning after Kasabian died. And she controlled the server information required to retrieve passwords. Whoever killed Alex Kasabian relied on each of these elements. Only Gaya Monde had access to them all.’
Bellaire nodded slowly. ‘For someone of Gaya’s moral code, there could be only one way to properly atone for taking the life of another human being. She would not have wanted to spend her life in prison. This would not have been punishment enough.’ He looked out over the bay. The buoys were rolling gently on the calmer waters. From moored boats that were not visible to him, Jejeune heard the clanking of the lanyards over the quiet winds. ‘But she did not tell you why she killed him, did she, Inspector? This secret, I think she has taken with her.’
Jejeune followed Bellaire’s look out towards the buoys. ‘I’m told the preferred route for ships returning from Antarctica to the Atlantic is to go up the west side of South America and through the Panama Canal. Even if you choose to come back through the South Atlantic, hugging the western coast of Africa for as long as possible would protect your ship from the worst of the storms. This ship, though, your ship, the Oceanite, the Storm Petrel,’ emphasised Jejeune, ‘is following a route right through the middle of those rough Atlantic waters.’
Bellaire turned sharply to look at Jejeune. There was a momentary anger in his eyes. He spoke slowly and without emotion. Perhaps he was trying for the same tone that he had used in their previous meetings, but there was a cold detachment to his words that prevented anything else from coming through. ‘You know, it has been said that it is easier to dethrone a king than to bring down a billionaire. I told you before I didn’t consider you an enemy, Inspector Jejeune. That still holds true. But perhaps we are to become adversaries.’ He tilted his head slightly. ‘I very much hope we do not. I can assure you, Inspector, it is not a contest I would lose.’ He looked back at the building. ‘We should go inside. I believe Tori will be in need of my support now.’
40
Outside the window behind Colleen Shepherd’s desk, the high, blue Norfolk sky bore only the faintest paintbrush strokes of white cloud. It was not a sky that promised thunderclouds. Those came from DCS Shepherd’s expression, as she glowered at the man standing on the other side of her desk.
‘What in God’s name did you think you were playing at? You went to the offices of the Institute? Where you met Julien Bellaire? And we now we find out that, all this time, the woman you’ve been talking to is the mother-in-law of the director of the Institute?’ She threw her hands up in exasperation. ‘How could you not see a connection?’
‘Nobody told me Julien Bellaire was a person of interest in the Arliss Dyer case,’ said Jejeune reasonably.
‘Nor should they have. Open cases are supposed to be none of your bloody business.’
It didn’t help Shepherd’s disposition to realise that somehow, Jejeune may have a point. Like most administrators, she preferred it when a subordinate’s transgressions were black and white. With Domenic Jejeune, everything always seemed to stray into the grey areas. That the uncertainty usually seemed to play out in the man’s favour rarely did anything to improve her mood, either. But she was on firmer footing with Jejeune’s errant conduct than with his justifiable ignorance.
‘Then let’s talk about this business of having Lindy go around and look into the data filed by the Bellaire Institute. An in-depth review of their records, I believe was Sergeant Salter’s phrase. Good God, Domenic, do you think we’re really all that stupid? Do you realise what you’ve done here? You may very well have compromised an active murder investigation. For someone as bright as you, there is the occasional lapse, isn’t there? I mean, am I the only one here who is concerned about your career?’
Her ire spent, Shepherd began shuffling through her papers with exaggerated care. Jejeune was put in mind of the scene when a bomb tech examined the site of an explosion. It was an exchange they’d had a thousand times and it always ended up the same way, Jejeune silent and Shepherd frustrated. But this time, he knew he had to give her more, something he wasn’t really ready to part with just yet.
‘I believe Arliss Dyer’s death is somehow connected to me.’
She looked at him over the top of her steel-rimmed glasses. ‘Do you have any proof?’
Did he? Enough to bring everyone along to the point where they would accept his reasoning? No, he was still just too far away. But he had to offer something, because if he exasperated his DCS to the point where she decided protecting his career was no longer worth the effort, he would lose any chance he had of finally getting the answers he needed.
‘I told Sergeant Maik I hadn’t received a call from Arliss Dyer. I would have recognised the number. I gave Arliss that phone. But just to be sure, I contacted my provider and requested a list of the calls to my phone that day. There were none from Arliss, but there was one on there from a number I didn’t recognise. Tori Boyd’s.’
Shepherd stared at him incredulously. ‘Well, of course the call came from Boyd’s phone. Did no one mention that to you?’ She threw up her hands in despair. ‘God Almighty, who’s running things out there, the Muppets? So you’re now telling me you did receive a voicemail message from Dyer that day, after all?’
Jejeune shook his head. ‘There was no message. Only dead air. Unfamiliar number, no sound.’ He shrugged. ‘I deleted it as soon I checked it.’ He looked at her. ‘I think now that Tori Boyd dialled my number, and then muted the phone before she handed it over to Arliss. She got lucky with it going to voicemail. I’m convinced if I’d have answered, she would have found some other way to abort the call.’
‘Why on earth would she want to do that?’
‘She suspected Arliss was going to tell me something she didn’t want me to hear.’
‘There was nothing in that message, Domenic. I can’t show you a transcript of the witness interviews, for obvious reasons, but I can assure you the message contained nothing you might have considered actionable information, nothing at all. Arliss Dyer only seemed concerned you would think he was mistaken about what he’d heard.’
‘Mistaken? Why would he think that?’ Jejeune’s mind took him back to the last time he had seen Dyer, in a sunlit meadow with the long, slanting shadows of afternoon laying deep pockets of cover. The other man had turned his head slightly at the inspector’s approach.
‘No sign of that Curlew Sandpiper, Inspector?’ he asked.
Jejeune remembered making an effort to keep the disappointment from his voice. ‘No. As far as I’m aware, nobody has found it yet. Few people doubt you were correct, though.’
Arliss had shrugged. ‘In flight. A long way up,’ he had said simply. ‘But I can recall what I heard.’
Shepherd’s voice brought him back to the present. ‘No more, Domenic. You’re off this as of now. Do you understand? No more Alex Kasabian, no more Arliss Dyer, no more Julien Bellaire. Stop by and give everything you have to the team on your way out. Then go home, see out the rest of your suspension, and pray this doesn’t go any higher.’
She looked out through her window to the offices beyond before turning to him again. As was often the case, Shepherd’s look carried more kindness than her voice had done. ‘I understand he was your friend, Domenic. And I can’t stop you giving the situation some serious thought in your free time. But if you come up with anything on Arliss Dyer’s death, you have to let them handle it. They’re a good crew and they think the world of you, but they won’t stand for you stepping all over their murder investigation just because you think you could do better.’
It was an unfair assessment of his motives and they both knew it. But he let it stand for now. The message would have been the same regardless of his true objectives. In reality, it was hardly surprising she was unwilling for him to get involved any further. Alex Kasabian, Arliss Dyer, Julien Bellaire: there was only one connecting factor. And it was him.
Jejeune stopped by the detective’s offices on his way out. They had retained the perspex dividers installed during the pandemic, giving the open-plan office the appearances of a series of cubicles. Danny’s was at the far end. He looked up from his desk at the DCI’s entrance and gave a wry grin. ‘Come to hand yourself in?’
‘I may have exceeded the speed limit the other night. I was in a hurry getting to Julien Bellaire’s house.’
Maik head-tilted in the direction of Colleen Shepherd’s office. ‘We heard. Still, first offence. At least it wasn’t a rare bird you were after.’ He became serious. ‘Your friend, sir.’
Jejeune acknowledged the comment with a look.
Salter realised it was the first time they’d met since the body in the Canon’s Cross hide had been officially confirmed as Arliss Dyer. Danny hadn’t offered his condolences, but the moment between them had been as eloquent as the most heartfelt of exchanges. The connection between the two men had only strengthened over Danny’s shared experiences with Lindy in the Ray Hayes case, Salter knew. Bonds between these two men now would hold fast whatever the strains put on them. A few weeks of suspension would be nothing.
She nodded towards Shepherd’s office. ‘Sorry about that, sir.’ They had all been summoned to an unhappy DCS Shepherd’s office at one time or another, and there was a tacit understanding when you re-emerged; everyone else went about their business as if they had not heard the raised voices behind her door. But some comments couldn’t be left unchallenged. ‘I don’t think that was right. To assume Lindy is just doing your bidding like that, asking your questions for you. It’s insulting. She’s an independent woman, not your wind-up toy. Plus, she’s a journalist, she has every right to try to find out what is going on up at the Bellaire Institute. These hide fires, they’re a legitimate news story.’
Any response Jejeune might have had was cut off by the sight of a lab tech popping his head round the door. At the sight of Salter, he seemed to hesitate, offering her an awkward grin before turning to Maik. ‘Erm… any time you like for that… thing, Sarge.’
Salter turned to him quizzically as the tech ducked out of view. ‘I asked him if he could help out with Max’s DNA sample.’ Maik held up his hands defensively. ‘He needs it by the morning. I know how busy you’ve been, that’s all.’
Jejeune saw Salter’s features tighten slightly, but she fought back her rising anger as her eyes flickered in the departed tech’s direction. ‘It’s fine, Danny. I’ll do it tonight. No need to trouble anybody else with it.’ She fixed on a strained smile and turned to Jejeune, indicating the newly painted walls. ‘What do you think?’
Jejeune nodded non-committally. As far as he was concerned, the first rule of decorating was the same as for conservation: do no harm. In this, he’d be prepared to concede the new paint job had just about achieved its goal. ‘I’d better be on my way,’ he said tactfully. If the matter of Max’s DNA collection was now behind Maik and Salter, the underlying issue might still require more discussion. ‘The DCS wants me to hand over my notes, but I don’t have them with me.’ He looked at Maik. ‘I’ll give you a call. Perhaps we can meet up and I’ll run through what I have.’
Maik returned his look. He understood: the words, the offer, and everything that lay beyond them. ‘As you wish, sir. Just let me know the where and when. Oh, there was just one more thing. We lifted a lad for a series of vehicle break-ins and he was giving us a bit of lip about having outrun one of us earlier. Only, as far as I know, we have no record of a prior officer pursuit.’
Jejeune’s smile suggested Danny might have been looking in the wrong place. Not that there would have been a record of a suspended-officer pursuit, either.
‘Fair enough, then,’ said Danny. ‘I’ll let you get on with your day. Unless there are any other offences you’d like us to take into consideration.’
‘Not at this time,’ said Jejeune with a faint smile.
Maik nodded. It was probably best, if you still had more offending to do.
The watching Salter marvelled once again at the unspoken connection between the two men. She knew she could not be the one to break it. And that was why, even before this exchange between them today, she had already known that she was going to have to be the one to leave Saltmarsh station.
41
Two inlets awaited Jejeune’s glance out of the window on this overcast morning. The waters of the pale one trembled in the faint breeze, reflecting patches of the weak morning light that had already crept over the treetops. The dark one still hunkered under the shelter of the vegetation, awaiting the moment when the rising light would bring it to life. The only other movement in the cove was the Firecrest that had dropped in to explore the tops of the trees on the far bank. Jejeune watched the tiny bird through his bins as it fidgeted around busily. He drew his eyes away and looked around the conservatory. For the first time, Lindy didn’t see joy in his gaze. Instead, as he scanned the empty space with its bare corners and unadorned half-walls, his eyes seemed to dim.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ said Lindy. ‘I’d be okay with it, having an aviary in here. In fact, I think it would be nice, to walk out here in the morning and be greeted by a bunch of pretty little birds, all singing their hearts out. Let’s face it, my projects, if I ever get around to starting any, aren’t going to need any particular spot. I could do them anywhere. So…’ she spread her arms out to encompass the room, ‘all yours.’
Dominic stared out over the cove again. Beyond the window, the shaded side of the inlet crept inexorably towards the light. The Firecrest had flown away. During its entire stay it had explored an area probably no bigger than his desktop. But that had been its choice. ‘Keeping birds in enclosures is necessary in some cases: research projects, captive breeding, even for education. But to keep birds in cages just for their beauty.’ He shook his head. ‘That can’t be right.’
Lindy saw a shadow of sadness flicker across his features, and she knew this was not about Gouldian Finches, or any other kind of bird. ‘You couldn’t have saved her, Dom. Gaya Monde had probably made her decision even before she boarded that ship, possibly even before she had ever heard of you. Besides, she was half a world away when she killed herself. How could you have prevented that?’
‘I could have had the head of station at Dumont d’Urville take her into custody.’
‘Not unless you already knew that she was the one who had killed Kasabian.’
His silence made her look at him. She knew what his expression was telling her, but she couldn’t bring herself to accept it. ‘Seriously? It was less than two days into your investigation. Even for you that would be pretty remarkable. You’re really telling me you knew then?’
He nodded sadly. ‘Before that. When I saw the photographs of the site she sent to Julien Bellaire.’
‘When was that, half an hour after you found out Kasabian was dead? How could you possibly have known then who did it?’
Jejeune looked out of the window. The waters of the cove were fully lit now. The erratic wind was creating a chequerboard of patterns on their surface: furrows, dimpled fields, smooth glassy patches. ‘Severed,’ he said. ‘Gaya Monde told Bellaire in the video that the fuel line had been severed. That’s why the snowmobile wouldn’t start.’
‘But that’s true.’
‘Yes, but when she came upon the body of Alex Kasabian, his hand was already frozen around the fuel line, with the damaged section inside his clenched fist. How did Gaya know it had been severed? It could have been spilt, or punctured, or corroded. But she said severed: cut in two, sliced cleanly.’
Lindy nodded thoughtfully. ‘And since that wasn’t evident from the photos she took, the only way she could have known is if she was the one who cut it.’ In the silence that followed, the final piece slotted into place. ‘And that video, the one of Kasabian’s hand being unfurled after it thawed back at the base, that was the confirmation you needed. That was when you could see, finally, that Gaya Monde had described the cut correctly. The cut she couldn’t see when the hand was still frozen.’
Domenic’s look confirmed it. ‘I shouldn’t have waited for that video. I already knew. Even if I had asked the ship’s captain to take her into protective custody earlier…’
‘If she really wanted to take her own life, she would have found a way. You can’t save those who don’t want to be saved, Domenic. No one can. Your job, mine too, everybody’s in fact, is to save those we can. But if she was going to commit suicide anyway, why not leave a note? In fact, why be so cryptic about everything in the first place? Why didn’t she just confess to you? Or to the authorities in Dumont?’
‘She couldn’t. Nobody is going to believe a confession from somebody who is unwilling to reveal their motive. And she wasn’t prepared to do that.’ He looked at Lindy. ‘All the while she was leading me to her guilt, she was trying to lead me away from her true motive. That’s why she had to give me that trail of clues, to demonstrate to me that she had done it, that only she could have done it. It was the only way she could be sure I would believe her.’
‘And yet, she was prepared to die without revealing why she killed Kasabian?’
