Shoot Him If He Runs

42

Dino and Genevieve were lunching on the terrace of the beach cottage when the phone rang inside. Dino got up and went to answer it. “Hello?”

“Dino, it’s Thomas; you’re about to have visitors.”

“Who?”

“The local police and a Colonel duBois, who is Croft’s replacement. Be careful in dealing with him.”

“I will,” Dino said. He looked up to see a car stopping outside. “They’re here; thanks, Thomas.” Dino got his and Genevieve’s passports and his NYPD ID from their room and went outside. Genevieve was looking up with big eyes at two uniformed policemen and a civilian. “Gosh,” she said. “Are you the police?”

Dino walked to the table. “Good afternoon, gentlemen,” he said. “May I help you?” He gave them a little smile.

“Yes, indeed, you may,” said the civilian, who was wearing a sharply cut tan suit that set off his cafe-au-lait coloring. “What is your name?”

“I am Lieutenant Dino Bacchetti, of the New York City Police Department,” he said, handing the man his badge wallet.

The man inspected the badge and ID card closely.

“May I know your name?” Dino asked pleasantly.

The man looked up at him. “I am Colonel Marcel duBois, of the Home Office.”

Dino offered his hand. “How do you do?”

DuBois shook it hastily. “May I see your passports.” It wasn’t a question.

“Of course,” Dino replied, handing them over. He waved a hand at the table. “Would you like some lunch or a glass of iced tea? It’s always interesting to meet a colleague.”

DuBois looked at him sharply. “Colleague?”

“We are both police officers, are we not?”

DuBois ignored the question. “What is your business on St. Marks?”

“We are here on vacation.”

“For how long?”

“We had planned to leave tomorrow, but I understand travel has been interrupted because of a murder.”

“What do you know of this murder, Lieutenant Bacchetti?”

“Only that it occurred and that the victim was Colonel Croft. I assume you are his replacement?”

“That is so. What other details do you have of this murder?”

“None whatever, I’m afraid. In my work in New York I have specialized in homicides for many years. If I can be of any assistance, I would be happy to do so.”

“Thank you, that will not be necessary. We have the required skills and experience in our own department.”

“I’m sure you do; I just thought that an outside opinion might be helpful.”

“Opinion of what?”

“Interpretation of the evidence.”

“We do not share evidence of crimes with outsiders.”

“As you wish.”

Now duBois seemed intrigued. “What would you say of this, Lieutenant? Colonel Croft was shot while sitting in the central courtyard of the St. Marks Police Station.”

“From inside the station?”

“From outside.”

“A rifle shot, then.”

“That is our assumption.”

“Then the shooter would have needed elevation.”

“Quite.”

“And a rifle with sufficient muzzle velocity to be accurate at a distance.”

“Quite.”

“I would first look for the shooter’s location, and when I found it I would isolate the scene and look for evidence, such as cartridge casings and fibers from the shooter’s clothing. I would also look for fingerprints.”

“Of course; that will be done.”

Dino waved duBois to a chair and sat down himself. “Someone loading a rifle would leave fingerprints on the cartridge casings, unless he was careful to wear gloves or wipe them clean.”

“Yes,” duBois said. “Go on.”

Dino was beginning to get the impression that duBois had never investigated a homicide. Probably, with his Haitian police background, he was more accustomed to committing than solving them.

“Have you located the shooter’s firing point?”

“We believe it to be an abandoned fire tower on a hill not far from the police station.”

“Then I would also look for tire tracks and footprints, and if the tower is accessed by a ladder or stairs, I would look for prints on the rungs or banisters. I would also look for DNA evidence, if the shooter, perhaps, spat or left a coffee cup or cut himself while climbing the tower. Hairs would be helpful, too.”

“All of that will be sought, of course,” duBois replied.

Dino was surprised he wasn’t taking notes. “Do you have the facility for DNA analysis available on St. Marks?”

“Not as yet,” duBois replied. “That will be one of my first requests of my government.”

“I would be very happy to have any evidence you find tested in our labs in New York, if that would be helpful.”

“Thank you; I will let you know.” DuBois consulted a list from his pocket. “Where are your companions, Mr. Barrington and Ms. Heller?” he asked.

“I believe they are touring the island,” Dino said. “They told us not to wait lunch for them.”

“When will they return?”

“I’m not sure, but certainly in time for cocktails; they never miss cocktails.” Dino smiled.

“Quite.”

Dino didn’t know what else to say. “I would be happy to inspect the shooter’s roost or the crime scene, if that would be helpful.”

“Probably not,” duBois replied.

“Mr. Barrington was also a homicide detective on the NYPD. We were partners for some years. I’m sure he would be glad to help, as well.”

“What about his girlfriend? Is she a police officer, too?”

Dino almost said yes, but remembered. “No, she is a flying instructor; she owns and operates a small flying school in Florida.”

“Yes, I have heard this; did she fly you here?”

“No, we were fortunate enough to arrive by private jet.”

“Are New York policemen so wealthy, Lieutenant Bacchetti?”

Dino laughed. “Oh, no. Mr. Barrington is the one with money. He is a prominent attorney in New York, and an airplane company offered him the ride, with the hope of selling him a jet.”

“And will he buy one?”

Dino smiled. “Just between you and me, Mr. Barrington is not that rich, but he neglected to mention that to the salesman.”

DuBois did not smile. A car door slammed behind them.

Dino looked up to see Stone and Holly walking toward them.

“Ah,” duBois said, rising, “Mr. Barrington and Ms. Heller, I presume.”

“That’s right,” Stone said.

“Good. You are both under arrest.” He made a motion and the two police officers cuffed Stone’s and Holly’s hands in front of them.

“Colonel duBois,” Dino said, getting to his feet. “Why are you arresting my friends?”

DuBois turned and looked at Dino. “Lieutenant Bacchetti, I would advise you to mind your own business.”

Dino’s eyes flicked toward Stone and Holly; he saw a folded piece of paper fall at her feet, and she kicked it under the police car.

“Call the embassy, Dino,” Stone said, as they got into the back of the police car.

The car drove away.

“What was that all about?” Genevieve asked.

“I don’t know,” Dino said. He walked over to where the police car had been parked and retrieved the piece of paper Holly had dropped. When he unfolded it, he saw the photographs of the three men. “Robertson, Pemberton and Weatherby, I presume,” he said. Then he walked quickly to the phone.