Page 37 of Sunshine and Secrets

‘I’ve just spoken to Leon. The police have intercepted Andy and are escorting him back to the station. After what happened to him last night, Jake’s been rather enthusiastic in his determination to spill the details of Andy’s involvement in the drug-smuggling trade.’

‘But why ask Jake to steal a few measly cocoa pods? It’s crazy.’

‘Andy was hiding the contraband inside the empty pods. He needed a ready supply but couldn’t risk buying them in the quantities he required so he began to collect them himself from Claudia’s plantation when she wasn’t there. A few stray cocoa pods wouldn’t be missed. If he was stopped in the jeep, he had a ready excuse about using the flesh in his “signature” cocktails. If he was intercepted in the dinghy, he’d say he was taking a shipment to a pal in a bar in Martinique to earn a few extra dollars. Who would suspect they were stuffed with drugs worth thousands of dollars?’

‘I can’t believe he’d do such a thing.’

‘We already know that Andy’s business has been slow all season. Everyone is suffering, tourist numbers are down, profits are flat. We know the bank refused him an extension on his loans. And he couldn’t sell up and go home, could he? What choice did he have? Anyway, he loves the Purple Parrot and St Lucia. He just needed the money and once he was in, I don’t suppose he could get out.’

‘And I let Jake borrow my jeep! The scumbag,’ said Dylan, his friendly face creased with anger. ‘If I’d known what he was using it for I would never have agreed.’

‘What about Jake? Why did he get involved?’

‘Leon made a few enquiries and apparently he’s well known to the police in Jamaica for a string of petty thefts from unsuspecting tourists; unattended wallets, mobile phones, watches, bracelets, rings, that sort of thing. I assume that’s why he turned up in St Lucia, to escape their interest. Apparently, they still want to question him, and so does Leon now about the spate of thefts that have been reported here in Soufrière over the last few months – since Jake arrived, in fact.’

‘What?’ Millie pushed herself up straighter in her seat, her heart pounding as everything Zach had just told them started to sink in. ‘Oh, my God! I’ve just remembered. I told Jake about the disappearing cocoa pods last night. That was why he was making that call at the Blue Oyster! It’s… it’s all my fault.’

‘No way is it your fault, Millie,’ declared Zach. ‘Quite the opposite, in fact. You’ve actually been instrumental in the arrest of two criminals. Andy did it because he was desperate to save his business, and once he was involved, he couldn’t get out. I don’t condone what he’s done – and I hope he receives the punishment he deserves – but I can understand his motivation. But what Jake did is different. It sounds like he’s been stealing from innocent holidaymakers for years, simply to line his own pocket and fund his lavish lifestyle. Although it pains me to say this, he probably only agreed to a date with you so he could switch on the charm, and you would turn a blind eye to his magpie tendencies.’

‘Oh, my God!’ Millie gasped, rubbing her hands over her face, trying to come to terms with everything that had happened over the last twenty-four hours. ‘There was no way I would have done that!’

‘Jake is a scumbag of the highest order!’ Lottie declared, her eyes flashing with anger. ‘I’m so sorry, Millie, if I had known, I would never have set you up with him. I feel awful; will you ever forgive me?’

‘There’s nothing to forgive.’ Millie smiled.

‘Thanks, Millie,’ murmured Lottie, fiddling with the friendship bracelet around her wrist as she contemplated the immediate aftermath of Andy’s actions. ‘I wonder what’ll happen to the Purple Parrot now. I suppose… I suppose I’ll be the new acting manager until we find out. Fancy a job, Millie? Head chef at the Purple Parrot, the best beach bar and restaurant in the whole of Soufrière?’

‘Wow, there’s an offer!’ smirked Zach, reaching out to squeeze Millie’s hand before spoiling the gesture by continuing with, ‘Shall we tell Lottie about your aversion to culinary orderliness?’

‘When is the Paradise Cookery School kitchen due to be finished?’ asked Dylan.

‘Tomorrow. And before you ask, no, there’s no way everything will be completed by then. There’s still all the painting to do, the hanging of the artwork, fixing the plinths, the cornices, the door handles, not to mention the cleaning – that will take a whole day at least.’

‘But all the heavy-duty stuff is done, right?’

‘Well, I suppose so, but even if Fitz and the guys work through the night – which they won’t, I’ve already asked them – it still won’t be finished. All the recipes have been triple-tested and approved by Claudia, but without the high-spec facilities the students are expecting, theChocolate & Confetticourse will have to be cancelled.’ Millie let out a long, ragged breath of regret, mingled with a generous soupcon of guilt. ‘Zach’s right. I seem to have a habit of attracting chaos and this project is no exception.’

Chapter Twenty

Millie sipped her breakfast coffee on the veranda overlooking the pool, regretting the fact that she had not indulged in the promised daily swim in its cool, soothing depths. She marvelled once again at the perfection of the view, its verdant beauty a masterpiece framed by palm fronds swaying in the gentle breeze, compared to the nightmare cartoon sketch of the kitchen behind her. The early-morning calm was interrupted by the intermittent whizz of an electric drill or the crack of a hammer, punctuated by the occasional squawk of a parrot leaping from the branches of a cocoa tree as Fitz and Alph continued with the mammoth task of finishing the renovations.

She surveyed the kitchen, and her heart sank. It was Friday, the day the renovations should have been completed, but it was glaringly obvious there was no way the work would be finished on time. Vic had failed to turn up two mornings in a row and before that she had stumbled upon him in one of the hammocks sleeping off his hangover, snoring like a baby elephant. Fitz and Alph had done their best with one man down, but it wasn’t nearly enough.

Nevertheless, the level of workmanship was superb. Fitz was a perfectionist, a true artisan, just not plugged into the same time zone as everyone else. Millie knew you couldn’t, and shouldn’t, rush quality, but that didn’t help when there was a deadline to be met and a group of six chocoholics about to arrive for theChocolate & Confetticourse in three days’ time expecting to be coached in the techniques of high-level gastronomy by a prestigious cookery writer in her Caribbean home.

Millie had tried her best to urge Fitz to increase his work rate but with Vic missing in action there was never going to be a sudden spurt of activity. They had also spent most of the morning gossiping about what had happened the previous day at the Purple Parrot until Millie had snapped and asked them to concentrate on the job in hand. However, she had felt so guilty about her uncharacteristic outburst that she had promptly baked a batch of cherry-and-almond scones, delivered them with a cafetière of Jamaica Blue Mountain coffee, and spent a precious hour appeasing them.

Ella had tried to intervene too, explaining to Fitz the importance of adhering to the deadline, even mentioning her friendship with his aunt, but it did not have the desired effect. In fact, the men had just downed tools for their mid-morning break and were reclining in the back of Fitz’s white van, drinking the coffee she’d made and taking a snooze.

Millie was about to escape for a shower when she noticed a glint of sunlight against the sink tap which now, thankfully, had been fitted in the central island unit. However, her eyes had also snagged something else. She approached the marble top of one of the workstations with caution, unable to compute what her brain was telling her.

‘Oh, God, no!’ she groaned.

A crack ran the whole way across from the corner of the sink to the other side of the workbench – a distance of fifty centimetres. Not just a crack, a ravine! She slumped onto one of the bar stools, placed her head in her hands and wept. The game was up. No way could they source a new marble countertop by Monday. How could the clients be expected to knead the dough of the hops bread, prepare the peppery paprika cornbread, and mould the coconut rock buns on a damaged surface?

She pulled herself together, dried her eyes and grabbed her phone. It was time to speak to Claudia, to confess that she hadn’t been up to the job and to apologise for making such a mess of things. She cringed when she thought of the course being cancelled and a swirl of guilt threatened to overwhelm her, not only towards Claudia but also to the wedding guests whose prenuptial party would be ruined.

Her call went to voicemail and she left a message for Claudia to phone her back as soon as possible. She had to speak to her before she left for the airport to save her making a wasted journey out to St Lucia, especially with her leg in plaster.

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