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In Prince Rupert five days later, the weather had finally improved enough to allow Dan to put the Zodiac into the water and head for Porcher Island. It was still raining—it hadn’t stopped since he had left Annie and Walker in Hakai—but the wind and sea had died down enough that he figured he could get there and back safely. It was a good sixty kilometers one way, part of it exposed to the treacherous waters of Hecate Strait, and the woman he wanted to talk to lived at the end of a long, shallow inlet that almost cut the island in half. He would need to be quick as the weather was forecast to worsen again later that day, but this was a trip he needed to make. Samantha Chauvet just might be the key he was looking for.
It took him well over three hours before he pulled the Zodiac up onto a gravel beach. Even under a gray sky the lagoon had the lush look of a tropical paradise. A white sand bottom turned the shallow water turquoise, and overhanging branches reminded him of the palms he had seen in Darwin. It was completely deserted. There was no wharf, not even a float of any kind, and no formal path led to the house he could glimpse through the trees. To get there he would have to follow a loose trail that wound past patches of salal and wild berry bushes. It wasn’t well used and could have been made by deer rather than human foot traffic.
The house was much bigger than he had expected. It sat in a wide clearing, its windows and doors protected from the elements by a deep, wrap-around verandah. Beside it on a cement pad sat a tiny black helicopter with an ornate, yellow design painted on it: the Vèvè of Ayizan.
The woman who answered the door was certainly not the woman who had been flying the helicopter when it was seen at the airport. She was perhaps the largest woman Dan had ever seen. She was not tall, but her flesh hung from her in folds, overflowing down her body in cascading tiers to puddle over feet encased in worn, felt slippers. He thought she might be Asian, but he couldn’t be sure because her eyes were almost hidden by her inflated cheeks.
“What you want?” The accent quickly confirmed her ethnicity. “This house private. You leave now.”
Before he had a chance to answer, the door was slammed in his face. He knocked again, and when she failed to return, he went over to a window and tried to peer in. A heavy blind blocked his view. He went back to the door and knocked hard enough to rattle it in its frame but again there was no response. He was heading around to the back when he heard it open.
“You go away! You not come here. I call police.”
Dan pulled his credentials out of his pocket and held them out. “I am the police. I’m here to speak with Samantha Chauvet.”
“She not here. You go away.”
The door was starting to close again, and Dan put his foot against the jamb to hold it open.
“How about Erzulie?”
He saw the flicker of uncertainty and decided to capitalize on it.
“If she doesn’t talk to me now, I’ll be back with more police. A lot of them. And we’ll search the house.”
She stared at him. Her eyes, already mere slits in her swollen face, narrowed even more, and then she gave a sharp nod.
“You wait here,” she said as she turned and shuffled down a long hall, her gait crablike as her body rolled heavily from side to side with each step.
She disappeared into a distant doorway and Dan stepped inside. The house was even larger than it had first appeared, with numerous rooms opening off the dark hallway, and Dan wondered how many people lived there. Certainly more than Samantha Chauvet and the woman who had greeted him and considering how remote the place was, that was odd. In the distance he could hear the sound of hand-drums and that too seemed out of place. Could this be some kind of Voudou religious centre where people came to study or reflect? But if so, how did they get here? That helicopter was barely big enough for a pilot let alone a passenger.
A painting hanging on a wall inside the first room caught his eye and he moved inside to study it. It reminded him of the vèvè symbol on the helicopter, but the design was different and so was the colour: this was white on a bright red background filled with birds and what looked like gourds or rattles.
The drumming swelled and then receded as a door opened and shut, and footsteps sounded in the hall. As he turned to meet whoever was approaching, he saw the other walls were also hung with paintings and banners, all with different symbols on them, and the chairs were ornately carved to represent figures with their arms forming the armrests.
“You wished to see me?”
Although the voice was soft and carried the lilting tones of the Caribbean, it did not sound friendly. The woman was tall and slim, her skin a warm gold, her eyes bright green and her hair, hanging in soft waves over her shoulders, a pale, reddish blonde. She was wearing a rose-pink dress and she would have been beautiful if not for the petulant sneer on her heavily painted mouth and the hard look in her eyes.
“Samantha Chauvet?” Dan hoped he had kept his surprise hidden. He had been imagining her as the pilot of the helicopter but he was obviously wrong. Joe had told him the pilot had been black.
“Yes,” she answered. “And before you ask, yes, I am also sometimes called Erzulie. It is a title bestowed by my religion.” She gestured towards the end of the hall. “We were holding a service when you threatened my housekeeper and I would like to return to it.”
“My apologies,” Dan said. “I will try not to keep you long.” He had come to ask about the helicopter, but her obvious hostility was raising his interest. He pointed to the side of the house. “I assume that’s your helicopter out there?”
“It is. They are made in Argentina but my father, who lives in the Dominican Republic, is a distributor. Surely you didn’t come out here just to ask that.”
He ignored the comment. “And are you the pilot?”
She laughed. “No Officer . . . I’m sorry. I don’t know your name. I suppose I should have asked to see some I.D.”
Dan pulled out his wallet again and showed it to her.
“Thank you. Well, Detective Connor, I would certainly like to be able to fly my own helicopter, but it seems the authorities do not think people with my disability are capable of doing so.” She lifted the long skirt of her dress to reveal an artificial leg. “Something you didn’t already know perhaps?”
“I’m sorry.” The words were inadequate but they were all Dan could come up with.
“Thank you. Now if that’s all, I really would like to get back to the service.”
“Just a couple more questions.” Her sarcastic tone annoyed him. “You have your own pilot then? Someone who lives here?”
“Obviously. How else could the helicopter be here?”
“Does he ever take the helicopter out alone?”
She sighed. “SHE follows my orders. Occasionally I may ask her to go over to Prince Rupert without me to pick up groceries, but then she usually has one of my workers with her.”
“And you’re sure she doesn’t go anywhere else when she’s on one of those trips?”
“Where could she go Detective Connor? It’s a very small helicopter. It isn’t capable of going very far. My father gave it to me so I could get supplies more easily. If I need to go further, I take a plane.” She moved her eyes to the open door behind him. “If that’s all, I really do need to go now.”
“It’s all for now Miss Chauvet, but I’m investigating a murder. If I have more questions I’ll be back.”
He watched her face closely for any reaction, but saw nothing and that too was odd. She should have been either surprised or worried, but she didn’t appear to be either. Instead she simply turned and started to walk away, heading back down the hallway, the scent of her perfume drifting behind her, but she stopped abruptly, her back suddenly erect, when he asked another question.
“Does your father sell helicopters in other countries? Australia, perhaps?”
She didn’t turn but instead threw the answer over her shoulder before continuing on her way. “I have no idea where my father sells helicopters, Detective Connor. You would have to ask him. Goodbye.”
He debated whether he should call her back. She was not as composed as she intended him to believe. That momentary hesitation had given her away. But he had absolutely nothing to go on and until he had figured things out a little more there was really nothing he could do.
Dan was stepping off the veranda when he heard the sound of the drums swell, then quiet again as she re-entered the room she had left.
He didn’t return directly to his boat. The helicopter was still sitting on its pad only a few meters away and he wanted a closer look at it. It really did look like a dragonfly, small and delicate with the oversized plexiglass cockpit and the black engine casing with its bright gold design tapering down to the tiny tail rotors behind it. It had two seats, although he thought it would be pretty uncomfortable for two people of even average size, and the landing gear consisted of four tube-like legs attached to what looked like a pair of thin metal rods. There was no way this machine was going to land on water. He was walking around it taking photos when he saw the housekeeper. She was staring at him from behind a closed window and her look made him feel uncomfortable.
The rain was getting heavier and the wind had increased by the time Dan got back to the Zodiac. He pushed it back off the beach and slid it into the water, grateful that he had installed a windshield and a fibreglass roof to protect him from the worst of the elements. As he climbed aboard a sudden movement in a thick clump of grass up on the shore caught his attention. He watched it for a moment, waiting for it to happen again, but there was nothing more. It must have been some small animal taking shelter, but he couldn’t shake the unease he had been feeling ever since he arrived. Even though he felt an urge to hurry, he found himself checking the boat to make sure nothing had been tampered with.
With the wind blowing down from Chatham Sound, he fought the sea all the way back to Georgy Point, the Zodiac bouncing off the top of one wave only to slam into the next, until finally he felt the change in motion as he reached the silt-laden outflow of the Skeena river. Even with his wet-weather gear zipped as tight as he could get it, he was soaked to the skin. His hands, encased in heavy, water-proof gloves, felt frozen in place, the fingers locked around the wheel. He was almost through the smoother water and back into the heavy chop when the engine quit.