The opulent five-star hotel bar was unlike any other that Grav had known over the years, with comfortable furnishings, a highly polished marble floor, and best of all in his opinion, an uninterrupted view of a Caribbean sea lit by a sunset that made him stand and stare, as if seeing the world for the very first time. What a wonderful sight to behold. All that beauty in one place. Surely such a wonderfully crafted reality couldn’t have come about by random chance. Maybe Heather was a part of it. Perhaps there was a creator after all.
He raised a hand and waved on spotting his son engaged in animated conversation with a curvy young Bajan barmaid dressed in immaculate livery, who was half hidden behind the polished wooden counter of a well-stocked bar. ‘Dewi! I’m over here, mate. Sorry I’m a bit late. I had a bit of a kip before coming out.’
Grav noticed his son reach out to caress the barmaid’s hand before turning towards him and nodding. ‘All right, Dad. I was beginning to think you’d done a runner back to Welsh Wales, or something.’
It was only ten minutes or so. What the hell was he on about? ‘You’ve fallen on your feet here, son. It looks like a cracking place to work.’
Dewi smiled, amused by his father’s talent for stating the blindingly obvious. ‘Do you fancy a glass of cold beer to be getting on with?’
Grav stepped forwards, leaned both of his bare elbows heavily on the bar and nodded enthusiastically. ‘Is the Pope Catholic?’
‘Two glasses of lager please, Sade.’
‘Two glasses of chilled lager coming up, gentlemen.’
Grav accepted his drink gratefully, tipped back his head and drained half the contents in one swallow, before returning the glass to the bar and saying, ‘Thanks, love, it’s appreciated.’
Dewi picked up his glass and sipped at it, slurping the frothy foam from the top with pursed lips. ‘So you can still knock them back a bit. No change there then. Shall we take a seat?’
Grav winked once and grinned. ‘So, is the girl more than a workmate?’
‘How the hell did you work that one out so very quickly? Always the detective.’
‘I’m guessing she’s your girlfriend.’
‘Yeah, sorry, I should have introduced you.’
Dewi raised a hand, waved the young woman over and smiled. ‘Right, let’s get this over with. Sade, this is my dad, Dad this is Sade.’
‘Nice to meet you, sir.’
The big man reached out and took her hand in his, before raising it slowly to his lips and gently kissing it. ‘Nice to meet you too, love. And please call me Grav. No need for formalities. From what I’m told, we’re almost family.’
She smiled, revealing flawless white teeth that contrasted dramatically against her smooth dark skin. ‘Grav it is. I’ve heard a lot about you.’
‘The boy’s punching well above his weight on this happy occasion. Lucky sod. I hope he’s treating you well, love. He’s not a bad lad, all considered.’
‘Oh, he’s a credit to you. I’m very fond of him.’
‘Glad to hear it, love. You tell me if he steps out of line, and I’ll smack his arse for you.’
She looked on, tossed her hair and laughed, as Dewi took his father’s arm and pulled him towards a nearby table. ‘Always the bloody comedian. And the two of you are getting on. That’s all I need.’
‘I get on with most people, all considered.’
‘So what do you think of her?’
Grav sat himself down and drained his glass with a look of contentment on his face. ‘She seems like a lovely girl. I’m pleased for you, mate. Ten out of ten.’
‘You don’t mind that she’s black?’
He stared at his son with narrowed eyes and frowned. ‘Why the hell do you feel the need to ask? Why would I? People are people. She’s a nice girl. That’s the only thing that matters.’
‘Another beer?’
Grav handed him a folded fifty BBD note. ‘Yeah, and a whisky chaser. Tell Sade to have one herself. She could probably do with it.’
Dewi put down the tray and handed Grav his change. ‘There you go.’
The big man drained the whisky glass with the flick of his wrist, relishing the twelve-year-old matured spirit trickling down his throat and warming his gut, before picking up his beer glass and holding it out in front of him in seeming adoration. ‘Thanks, mate, that should take the edge off a bit.’
‘So what have you been doing with yourself? Have you seen much of the island?’
Grav shifted his weight in his seat in a hopeless attempt to relieve his chronically aching lower back, and grinned despite the nagging pain. ‘I walked as far as the bus station after breakfast and took one of those yellow buses as far as Bridgetown. That was an experience, I can tell you.’
Dewi laughed as he pictured his overweight and ageing father clinging to his seat among the locals, with loud reggae music blaring in his unappreciative ears. ‘Yeah, they don’t hang about, do they?’
‘What the hell’s that about?’
‘They’re totally independent with no timetable and cheap fares. Basically, it’s about forty pence to anywhere you want to go on the island. The more passengers they pick up, the more they earn. One of Sade’s cousins drives one. They’ve got to put their foot down to make a basic living. That’s the reality.’
‘Ah, okay, so that explains it. Mine had a driver with long dreadlocks who seemed to think he was Mika Häkkinen on crack. It was a bit like being on a fucking rollercoaster, only faster and a lot scarier. I didn’t actually shit myself, but it came pretty close once or twice. I was wishing I’d worn my brown corduroy trousers.’
The two men continued drinking to excess and making small talk for another hour or so, until a combination of the alcohol in their systems and the convivial atmosphere began to break down the long-standing emotional barriers and lift their usual British reserve. Dewi returned to their table with the tenth round of the night and fell heavily into his seat. ‘So, what’s going on, Dad? What the hell happened to DS Rankin?’
‘Clive. Do you remember him?’
‘Well, yeah, of course I do. I can remember him and his missus coming around to the house more than once when I was a kid. Didn’t we all go camping in France when I was nine or ten?’
‘Yeah, of course we did. Brittany. Your mother loved it.’
‘So, what happened?’
‘You really want to know?’
He leaned forwards in his seat. ‘I asked, didn’t I?’
Yes, it seemed he did. Maybe he wasn’t just making conversation for once in his life. They were actually connecting on a meaningful level. ‘We were investigating a serial killer case. A right fucking maniac. I’m talking five young women’s bodies in shallow graves and a missing nineteen-year-old university student who met the victim profile. I was the lead detective with Clive as my second in command. And the media were all over it. Looking for anything to criticise and piss on to sell a few more miserable papers. That’s pressure, son. Real pressure. It was only a matter of time until the bastard killed again. We knew it. Everyone fucking knew it.’
Dewi swallowed a mouthful of cold beer before responding. ‘So what happened to Clive?’
‘He was under the cosh, just like I was. There were no obvious suspects, but we were making progress of sorts. I thought he was coping. Hell, I still think he was coping. Actually, that’s understating the case. I’m fucking certain of it.’
Dewi’s eyes moistened as he pondered his father’s very different world. ‘So, how did he die?’
‘He was found alone in the front seat of his car with a hosepipe leading from the exhaust.’
‘So, he killed himself?’
Grav stared into the distance, focusing on nothing in particular rather than meeting his son’s eyes. ‘Well, that’s what the coroner decided.’
‘Wasn’t it crystal clear? You don’t seem convinced.’
‘There were things that didn’t fit. Things that made no sense to me.’
‘Such as?’
‘How long have you got?’
‘As long as it takes, Dad. As long as it takes.’
‘Another drink?’
Dewi nodded his confirmation and rose to his feet on unsteady legs. ‘Yeah, why not? I’ll get them in. Same again?’
‘I’ll have a double whisky, ta, and save a bit of time. Just bring the bottle.’
‘So what happened exactly?’
‘I arrived at the scene just as two paramedics were confirming that Clive was dead. He was in one hell of a state to be honest, so it’s not as if it was hard to work out. Swollen, red-purple, bloated. Anyway, it looked like suicide to them, but as I said it wasn’t nearly so clear to me.’
‘Okay, you’ve got me interested.’
‘The car was parked right up against a high earthen bank in a quiet lane close to a remote beach. Clive would have had to attach the pipe, get back in the car and then climb over the driver’s seat and gear stick, and into the front passenger seat to wait to die. Why would he do that? Can you tell me?’
Dewi shook his head, searching for a response he couldn’t find as the alcohol clouded his thinking.
‘And on top of that he had a seat belt on. Does that make any sense at all to you? Because it doesn’t to me.’
‘No, not really… I see what you’re saying. Did he leave a note?’
‘No, he didn’t. And that was the clincher as far as I was concerned. People leave notes. Clive would have left a note. He had a wife, family, friends. He would have wanted to explain.’
Dewi sat there for a few seconds with a confused expression on his sun-bronzed face. ‘So, how come the coroner disagreed with you?’
‘They’d been trying for a kid for ages. Mary had a miscarriage.’
‘Anything else?’
This was starting to get embarrassing. ‘Clive had been prescribed antidepressants by his GP.’
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake, what the hell can I say to that? Maybe your thinking’s been clouded by your affection for the man.’
‘I guess it’s a possibility. To some extent anyway.’
‘So, he may have killed himself, yeah? It’s not an impossibility. Surely you have to accept that.’
‘I just don’t buy it. One witness claimed to have seen Clive’s car travelling in the direction of the lane with two adults in the front.’
‘And nothing came of it?’
Grav shook his head. ‘He was an old bloke in his eighties and seriously pissed at the time. Not exactly the most reliable witness in the world. Any half-decent barrister would tear his evidence to shreds without breaking sweat.’
‘Did you believe him?’
‘Fifty-fifty to be honest. He may have been saying what he thought I wanted to hear. It happens sometimes.’
‘And you didn’t come up with anything else?’
‘Na, fuck all. The top brass knocked any further investigation on the head after the coroner’s findings. Case closed. That’s what they told me.’
‘And you’re finding that hard to accept?’
‘Yes, I fucking well am. He was a close mate. Wouldn’t you be?’
‘So what about you, Dad? You’re still one angry man. You’ll have a bloody heart attack if you’re not careful. What happens next?’
‘Is it all right if I light up a cigar?’
Dewi staggered to his feet, glass in hand, and cursed loudly as a splash of lager spilled over the top and soaked his feet. ‘Come on, let’s go out and sit on the veranda. You can smoke there without any problems.’
‘Sounds like a plan.’
‘So, what are you going to do with yourself once the holiday’s over?’
Grav slapped the back of his neck as an insect stung. ‘What the fuck is that whistling all about?’
‘Frogs.’
‘You’re telling me that a bunch of frogs are making that racket?’
‘Are you changing the subject? Saying anything to change the course of the conversation?’
‘Frogs?’
‘That’s what I’m telling you. Tiny frogs with big voices.’
Grav sucked at his cigar, inhaled deeply, and blew a spiral of smoke high into the warm night-time air. ‘Well, I’ve heard it all now.’
‘You were about to tell me your plans.’
The little sod wasn’t going to let it go. Just tell him, Grav. Just tell him and be done with it. ‘I seriously considered jacking it all in for a week or two after Clive’s death, but what the hell it’s got to do with you I don’t know.’
‘I’m worried about you, Dad. That’s all. You’re carrying a few too many pounds, you smoke those things, you drink heavily, and you’re in a high-stress job. You’ve told me that yourself.
You’re a heart attack waiting to happen. Grandad died when he was not a lot older than you are now. Or have you forgotten that?’
Grav suddenly raised himself up, leaned forwards, and smacked the tabletop hard with an open palm, causing Dewi to jump and retreat in his seat, pressing himself hard against the backrest. ‘Who the fuck are you, my mother?’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘I didn’t come here to listen to a speech on the benefits of healthy living. If I want a lecture, I’ll go and see my doctor. Got it?’
‘Loud and clear. This is going well. Maybe you should have stayed away in the first place.’
‘I made the effort, didn’t I?’
‘I’m really sorry, Dad. How many times do I need to apologise? I didn’t mean anything by it.’
Grav sat back in his chair and closed his eyes tight shut in quiet contemplation. What the fuck was wrong with him? He’d upset the boy. He’d ruined what had been a pleasant evening. Other guests seemed shocked. Sade was staring. And why wouldn’t she be? PTSD? It seemed the psychologist may have had her diagnosis spot on after all.