The Atlas Murders (37 page)

After a while, he became
restless and couldn’t settle. He felt he was too close to catching his man and
he wanted to be more involved. He walked back along Elgin Avenue to the police
headquarters. Monty had two sergeants with him who he was briefing about
Tukola.

 “Ah!” he stopped and stared,
“it is you? I nearly didn’t recognize you with the hat and shirt! Very good
thinking Henry. It wouldn’t do if Tukola recognized you on the street.”

Sit down please. I was going
over our plans with my sergeants.

“This is our British
detective, Henry Tyler,” he said, by way of introduction.

Henry nodded to the two men. They
were both fit and eager and in their early thirties, he judged.

“If you don’t mind Monty, may
I suggest that when they find the tender an undercover man stays around in case
he decides to go back to the launch. If he did take out the boat at least we’d
have him out in the open. I hope I didn’t forget to mention that this man is
armed and would have no hesitation using his firearm.”

 “Yes Henry, I did stress
that to all my colleagues. I have your description of the killer circulated.”
Then, turning to the two sergeants he said, “if you see him or even think it’s
him, don’t try to arrest him. One man should keep him under observation, the
other come back for back up.”

 Henry stood in front of them
as they went to leave, his fixed eyes and serious demeanor told all. “Tukola
has a prominent cut over his left and it would not be properly healed as yet.
He also has a tattoo of a snake on his right arm with the head uppermost.”

 They nodded.

 “Thanks sir that should be
enough to identify him.”

 Henry went with Monty to the
sketch artist. He had a dingy little room at the back of a shop. He spent most
of his time sketching people on the street, mainly tourists. He was old now
maybe seventy with gray curly hair and wispy beard, his black skin was wrinkled
and stretched over his hands like parchment.

“I’m going Henry, I’ll pick you
up for lunch in say one hour,” said Monty as he strolled out of the room.

Henry gave the man a very
detailed description of Tukola and after about fifty-five minutes and a few
minor adjustments, he had finished the sketch.

When Monty arrived back,
Henry was holding the sketch and looking at it with admiration and disbelief.

“See Monty, look at this. It’s
like a photograph of him. It’s perfect, even down to his cut eye.”

Monty glanced over with
affection at Paddy. “He’s a master at his work and he’s promised to do a color
sketch of me someday.”

 “Paddy looked up at Monty.

 “Don’t leave it too long now.
I’m getting older by the day and you getting uglier.”

They all laughed heartily.

Monty paid Paddy generously
and they left.

It was a lobster lunch the
likes of which Henry hadn’t enjoyed or tasted before - only read about. Monty
threw his napkin on the plate, “good fare here. But we better get back to see
if there any developments and I want to send the sketch I have here to the
printers. He’ll have a hundred out in an hour.”

 When they arrived back at
the headquarters, Monty gave the sketch to a young trainee.

 “Take this to Reynolds and
ask him to have one hundred copies ready as soon as possible; stress that it’s
very urgent.

Just at that moment an
excited young policeman came rushing out to the outer office.

 “Sir, we found the tender
boat from the Marita Ann.”

 “Good man, where?”

 “Down on the beach at Miss
Eden Bay. It was well pulled up the beach.”

 “Great, go right away and
tell whoever’s in charge not to touch it. Tell him to have a plain clothes man
hang around. Make it clear that under no circumstances anyone try to apprehend
the killer. They should just keep him under observation.”

 “Right sir, I’ll do that,”
he replied excitedly, before rushing out of the room.

 “Good kid that. Come here
Henry and I’ll show where the boat was found.”

He spread the map and marked
a spot on Miss Eden Bay.

 “This is approximately where
he landed, but what direction did he take after that?”

 Henry was scrutinizing the
layout of the beaches, the houses and hotels in the vicinity.

 He spaced his words, slow
and deliberate.

“Presuming he took it with
him, he would be going to find someplace to stash the loot. Now, I’ll put
myself in his place and Monty will you do the same?”

 Monty grinned. “I don’t know
how good I’d be as a crook having always being on the opposite fence, but I’ll
try.”

 “Right, I’ll go first.”

Henry ran his finger along
the map of the beach and stopped at the first house; he paused a while and
moved on. He kept going until he came to a secluded part where there were no
houses for about half a mile.

“I’d say about this area
depending on the soil which I presume is sand so easy to dig up.”

 Monty was following his
every move.

 “Yes you’re right; it is
sand and away from any houses. You could hide something there with a very good
chance of not being seen. The only people around there are a few turtle
fishermen.

Henry took out a packet of
cigarettes and offered one to Monty.

They lit up and sat for a
minute silent in their thoughts. Henry had mental vignettes of Tukola; his wary
eyes and lithe movement digging a hole in the sand and turning and watching
before dropping the case in the hole and covering it over.

The blue smoke rose to be whirled
around by the ceiling fan. Henry looked up and blew smoke up to it.

 “Monty,” he broke the
silence, “we can’t do much until we get the sketches.”

 “Henry, come with me now and
we’ll find out if they’re ready.”

Henry stayed outside the
printers while Monty went inside. He emerged after about five minutes with a
handful of the sketches. Henry glanced at them. “These are great, give me one
and I’ll move down to the beach area and make some subtle inquiries; speak to a
few locals, if it’s ok with you. And I won’t interfere with your men in any way.”

 “That’s fine with me Henry;
it’s a big area and the more people helping out, the better.”

Monty held the sheaf of paper
and looked over Henry’s shoulder.

“Here are some of my lads now.
Let’s see if they have anything new.”

 “Well lads, anything to
report.”

 “No sir, nothing to report
yet,” was their sheepish reply.

 “Right lads, here’s the
sketches. I want you to deliver them to all the restaurants, shops, café’s,
hotels and guest houses on the island. When you give them out, stress that they
are not to display the pictures; just keep them hidden so only the staff can
see them. Also stress that he is very dangerous and that if they see him, they
should absolutely not confront him. Instead they should contact the police
immediately.”

“Understood boss.”

Henry headed off to the beach
area.

 “I’ll report back in a
couple of hours, will you be at headquarters?”

 “If I’m not, speak to the
duty sergeant and he will contact me.”

 Henry was glad of his panama
hat as the afternoon sun beat down its desiccating rays. He walked on towards
Miss Eden Bay and saw the launch’s tender pulled high on the beach. He stood
around like any tourist and noticed Monty’s plain clothes man sitting smoking
in torn denims and worn green shirt; he looked ragged and disheveled and looked
like a typical fishermen - except for his new patent leather shoes! Well,
thought Henry, you can’t always get it right! Henry walked across to where two
fishermen were unloading turtles out of their small fishing boat and he stopped
to talk to them.

“I’ve never eaten turtle, is
it nice?”

 They were middle aged men of
mixed race, with weather beaten salt hardened features and smiling brown lips
showing brilliant white teeth.

“Yes, it is very good to eat.
Our people for as long as I can remember have eaten turtle meat.”

The second man stood
barefooted, tall and lean as a pole his voice sharp with clear diction as from
an English grammar school. “We sell it now to hotels and restaurants, and we go
fishing when the turtle are scarce.”

 “You speak very good English.”

 He raised his chin, a proud
tilt to his jaw.

“My mother taught English at
the school. Like a lot of people here we came from the island of Montserrat
where they have schools for colored people.”

 “Could you look at this picture?”

They viewed it with serious
concern.

“Did you see this fellow
around in the last couple of days?”

 “Who is this man?” the thin
man asked almost at once.

 “He came off a launch in the
harbor which came from Cuba, and he is a criminal.”

 “He came up the beach two
mornings ago while we were getting ready to go fishing. The sun was only just
showing on the horizon when he passed. We wondered where he was going:
especially with that case”

“You never saw him again?”

 “No, we never saw him again.”

 “If you see him do not go
near him as he is dangerous. Just come to the police and tell them.”

 They stood straight and
placed their hands on the knives on their belts. The tall man leaned into the
boat and took out a machete and waved it around.

“We can defend ourselves.”

 “Listen men, this man has a
gun so be careful.”

 Henry removed his shoes and
socks and walked along the beautiful white sandy beach. Then he rolled up his slacks
and paddled in the warm water. He walked further up the beach, meeting more
fishermen and making enquiries. But he drew a blank with them all. The extent
of this beach area was so vast that a person could hide an item large or small
and unless he mapped it carefully, would never find it again. To look for
something buried without knowing approximately where it was, would be an
impossible task.

Deciding he’d done enough for
the day, Henry headed briskly back to the police headquarters; it was coming up
to six o’clock when he walked in. Monty was at his desk.

“Come in Henry, we’ve had a
sighting.”

 “Great where?”

 “He purchased food in a shop
this morning. He could be living rough still wary of being followed.”

 Henry sat on the corner of
Monty’s desk, eager to relay the results of his enquiries.

, “I met two fishermen who
sighted him at sunrise yesterday. He was going up the beach from where the boat
is.”

 Monty stood up.

 “He’s close and he’s going
to show up soon. I can feel it, he can’t go far now without being spotted.”

Henry stood and put his hand
over the little gun tucked into his belt, hidden by his loose shirt.

“What plans have we in place
to go and arrest him if he’s seen somewhere?”

 “As you might know Henry,
our men are not routinely armed. Have you a gun? please don’t mind me asking
but if you haven’t I’ll give you one.”

Henry took out the little
hand gun.

 “Here’s my weapon, taken
from the woman he murdered in Cuba.”

 Monty put out his hand and
took the little gun from him.

 “A mere toy my friend! I’ll
issue you with a proper gun before you leave. As you might imagine, these
islands are virtually crime free, so apart from myself there are only two other
officers who are trained to use guns.”

 Monty went to the door of
his office and called the duty sergeant. He sent him away and he came back with
another sergeant and four firearms. He laid them on the desk. He waved an arm
to the three men. “Right help yourselves lads.”

Henry picked up a gun. It was
an old model from a World War Two arms chest. The sort that were typically packed
off to the colonies during the conflict. However it was well maintained and appeared
to work. He checked and found it was loaded.

 “This will do the job.”

 Monty palmed his and all
four seemed very satisfied with their weapons.

“Would anyone like to suggest
how we tackle this?”

 “I would,” said Henry
firmly, “I brought this situation to you and I should be the one to confront
him when he’s found. Putting your lives in danger is not part of my agenda, but
I will be grateful for your backup.”

 Monty leaned over the desk. “Very
noble Henry, but he’s in my jurisdiction and I’m responsible for his
apprehension; so I think if anyone should approach him, it should me.”

 “I won’t argue with you. We’ll
do it together and these men will back us up. Agreed?”

Suddenly, a policeman ran in
breathless.