Chapter Sixty-Two Holly
Chapter Sixty-Two
HOLLY
Having pored over the recovered court documents, Fitzwilliam and I have circled back to the depiction of graffiti on the dormitory wall. It depicts an other-worldly figure; a ghost or a ghoul. I can’t help but draw back slightly at the unsettling image.
‘Adrianna Kensington’s kidnapper styled themselves on graffiti drawn on the school dormitory wall?’ I confirm.
‘More than styled themselves,’ he says, eyeing the court document. It’s a sad hunched figure, etched in black pen. ‘Black cloak enclosing the shape of the body and fitting all the way to the neck. It’s an exact copy.’
My eyes land again on the scratchy words under the image.
‘Trinity is coming,’ I say. ‘And now Silky is dead.’
‘Maybe Silky went looking for the bell tower,’ says Fitzwilliam thoughtfully. ‘Discovered something she wasn’t meant to.’
‘When we found Silky’s body, I noticed there was a lot of sand in her hair that hadn’t washed out in the ocean,’ I say.
‘Sand grains are hugely varied. It’s incredibly interesting actually.
You could make an entire study …’ I notice the glassy cast to his eyes.
‘In any case,’ I say, ‘flatter grains of sand tend to adhere very well to skin and particularly hair. Under a microscope you can see how they almost hook under the overlapping layers of the hair cuticle.’
‘Holly,’ says Fitzwilliam in a tired voice. ‘What’s your point?’
‘Grains of sand shaped like that have usually been subject to a high degree of water movement. I could maybe narrow it down to the beach she died on. Assuming Silky went looking for that bell tower the night she died, we could track it that way.’
‘Or,’ says Fitzwilliam, ‘there’s a large fenced-off area that reads Danger, Under Construction, with a tall building just visible through the top of the jungle canopy. Do you think that might be an easier place to start?’
I tuck strands of blue hair behind my ears, thinking this through. ‘Right,’ I concede. ‘That could also work.’
‘Good old-fashioned sleuthing,’ he says smugly. ‘Not a spectometer in sight.’
‘It’s called a spectrometer.’ I think for a moment. ‘On the airplane, Silky mentioned the original schoolhouse was on the island. Schools have bell towers, right?’
He nods. ‘Particularly if it was a very religious school.’
‘Maybe,’ I say. ‘For all her glamour and charisma, Simone had a devout side to her.’
I’m struck by a sudden memory of Simone’s obsession with taking Mass, no matter what we were working on. I teased her once about a guilty conscience, and she’d avoided my eyes.
‘I hurt someone once,’ she said, toying with her signet ring. ‘Someone younger than me, who didn’t deserve it. You could say that mentoring you is part of my making penance.’
‘Nice to know your interest in me is so personal,’ I quipped.
Her face lit up in a warm smile. ‘Of course it’s personal.’
Fitzwilliam’s voice breaks into my thoughts. ‘Kensington security is all over the island. Not nice guys, from what I overheard in the staff quarters. We need to get onto the jungle path unseen.’
He stands, making for the door, and as he does, something around his midriff starts vibrating violently.
‘What is that?’ I ask. ‘Some tech fitness device?’
‘It’s … my pager,’ Fitzwilliam frowns. ‘But it shouldn’t work out here. It only picks up radio frequency.’ His eyes drift to the ocean. ‘Maybe … there’s a boat with a mast in the vicinity.’
Bemused, he lifts it and begins scrolling.
‘You have about a hundred messages from Detective Ortiz,’ I say.
‘I think … she’s been sending them for hours. They’re all arriving now,’ he explains. ‘Perhaps some pirate radio out to sea is in the right position to send a signal.’
His dark eyebrows rise. ‘OK. Ortiz got a few things back.’
‘The fingerprints from Adrianna’s birthday invitation?’ I suggest hopefully.
He nods. ‘Adrianna’s. Like you said. Simone’s report and Ortiz both confirmed. No mistakes.’
‘Really?’ Disappointment mixes with confusion. ‘Why would Simone showcase the fingerprints like that, unless there was something TV-worthy about them?’ I think some more. ‘The Tower Suite has fingerprint access,’ I say. ‘Do you think that’s significant? Adrianna was snatched from that room, right?’
‘Said she went to bed alone there,’ confirms Fitzwilliam. ‘Was drugged and woke up in the panic room.’ He glances at his page. ‘Ortiz got something else too. Forensics on the scaffold found at the scene.’
‘What about it?’
‘Blood was found on more than one pole.’
‘Show me,’ I take the pager. My lips move silently as I scan the text.
‘Blood on four poles … Distribution consistent with contact rather than spatter …’ I look up at Fitzwilliam.
‘The way the blood was distributed, police seem to think it suggests four murder weapons. It seems to suggest … four people all administering blows to Simone at the same time.’
Fitzwilliam takes the pager back. ‘Ortiz thinks more than one bridesmaid attacked Simone?’
‘The injuries on the forensic report … that wouldn’t make sense,’ I say. ‘The bruising on Simone’s body was extremely consistent. It would fit with one person making very calculated blows. But different people? There’s no way they would land blows with equal force.’
The pager beeps again. Fitzwilliam frowns.
‘What’s happening?’ A coil of anxiety is spreading slowly around my stomach.
‘This isn’t good. Mark Li didn’t agree to the deadline extension. He pulled his permission for us to be on the island. And … it sounds like he’s just landed.’
‘Which means?’
‘Ortiz wants us on the next staff boat.’
My mind trips to the mysterious bell tower hidden in the jungle. ‘How long does that give us?’
‘Ten minutes.’ He shakes his head. ‘I’m sorry, Holly. We’ve run out of time.’