Murder on the Beach: A Dodie Fanshaw Mystery

By Marina Oliver

Dodie Fanshaw, escaping from London in January to stay with old Hollywood friends in Barbados, soon becomes involved with the local English and American ex-pat community.
Enjoying the weather, the friendships, and learning to sail, she doesn't expect murder.
But tensions are high, old quarrels are renewed, and several have motives but no one has an alibi.
Dodie sets out to solve the mystery in the 9th book in the Dodie Fanshaw mystery series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Belgrave House
• Release date: Aug 25, 2019
• ISBN: 9781947812307

Marina Oliver

Most writers can't help themselves! It's a compulsion. Getting published, though, is something really special, and having been so fortunate myself I now try to help aspiring writers by handing on tips it took me years to work out. I've published over 60 titles, including four in the How To Books' Successful Writing Series, and Writing Historical Fiction for Studymates.I have judged short story competitions, been a final judge for the Harry Bowling Prize and was an adviser to the 3rd edition of Twentieth Century Romance and Historical Writers 1994. If you want to find out more about your favourite authors, consult this book. I once wrote an article on writing romantic fiction for the BBC's web page, for Valentine's day.I have given talks and workshops for the Arts Council and at most of the major Writing Conferences, and helped establish the Romantic Novelists' Association's annual conference. I was Chairman of the RNA 1991-3, ran their New Writers' Scheme and edited their newsletter. I am now a Vice-President.As well as writing I have edited books for Transita, featuring women 'of a certain age', and for Choc Lit where gorgeous heros are the norm.I was asked to write A Century of Achievement, a 290 page history of my old school, Queen Mary's High School, Walsall, and commissioned to write a book on Castles and Corvedale to accompany a new circular walk in the area.Most of my Regencies written under the pseudonym Sally James are now published in ebook format as well as many others of my out of print novels which my husband is putting into ebook format. Our daughter Debbie is helping with designing the covers. For details of all my books and my many pseudonyms see my website.

Book preview

OLIVER

CHAPTER 1

Dodie glanced at the snowflakes drifting past her window, and shivered. Why on earth had she stayed in London this year? She returned to reading the messages on her Christmas cards, which she had read hurriedly when they had arrived. She would keep those needing a response and pass on the rest to the child next door who cut them up and made fresh cards with them.

'Dear Dodie, It seems years since Fraser and I saw you. Why don't you come out and visit with us soon? Stay for a couple of months, get away from the worst of the London weather. Love, Sally.'

She frowned. It was over two years since Sally Curtis and her husband Fraser had stayed with her in London. And now they were retired and had moved to Barbados. She'd been there once, recalled long sandy beaches and waving palm fronds. Lovely sunny, hot Barbados. She shivered again, even though the central heating was turned up high. It would be better than England in this cold, wet January. She pushed aside the rest of the cards and reached for her diary. There was nothing important in the next few weeks. Yes, she would go. Picking up her phone she keyed in the number Sally had put on her card. She'd book a flight today.

Four days later she walked into the hot afternoon sunshine and found Sally, dressed in a skimpy white dress, waiting for her.

'Dodie, darling! Oh, how good it is to see you! You don't look a day older. Let me take that bag, and Fraser will see to the rest of your baggage. The car's just outside.'

Sally was still the petite redhead, her green eyes gleaming with pleasure. She hadn't put on an ounce since her Hollywood days. Dodie smoothed down her more ample hips and wondered how she managed it. Fraser, too, was the same as ever, tall and lean, still strong enough to control half-wild horses, his face craggy but his hair greying at the temples. Neither of them looked in their fifties.

Dodie, laughing, hugged Sally and surrendered her carry-on bag. She took out her camera and showed it to Sally.

'Look, my new toy! Digital, it's fabulous, and I took lots from the plane as we were coming in.'

She breathed in deeply. It was beautifully hot, and she shrugged off her London winter coat.

'You can have a cool shower and change when we get home,' Sally said. 'It's only a few minutes, we can bypass Bridgetown.'

Dodie could see the wide sandy beaches. Sally explained that they lived in a villa just a short distance from one. 'We have our own pool, but we can swim in the sea or laze on the beach any time we feel like a change.'

'Are there many Americans living here?'

'Quite a few. Brits, as well. We tend to gather at the local bar in the evenings. Ryan and Betty serve food too.'

As they drove along Sally pointed out various landmarks, Dodie aimed her camera at them, and when they came to the sprawling villa Sally led Dodie through a wide central hall which opened onto a patio, and along a short corridor to one side into a spacious guest suite.

'Here's the bathroom. Now take your time, and if you want to doze, feel free.'

'I'd better not, or I won't sleep tonight.'

'I'll be on the patio, then.'

When Dodie, refreshed, had slipped on her coolest dress, putting off wearing a swimsuit until she was more acclimatised, she wandered through the French windows onto a spacious patio that surrounded a blue, circular pool. Sally was sprawled face down on a lounger, reading a magazine. Fraser sat on a chair beside her, apparently mending a fishing line. They looked up and Sally waved Dodie to a lounger.

Dodie looked round. The house was one-storeyed, the walls between the multiple windows covered with luscious climbing plants, and it stretched in a U-shape round three sides of the pool. On the last side a partial view of the ocean could be seen between the roofs of other houses lower down the hill.

'You like it?' Sally asked, and laughed. 'We were lucky to find it, just after the owner decided to return to Florida.'

'Find me another and I might leave London altogether.'

'I'll give you the tour later. The living rooms are in the middle, kitchens and so on behind. That side we have a cinema, billiard room, and changing rooms for guests when we have a pool party, and this side all the bedrooms.'

'Your own cinema?'

'Of course.' Sally grinned. 'We can't miss all the movies, even though we've retired. We like to see what's happening to our old friends. If there's anything you've missed and want to see, we'll probably have it.'

An hour later when they had caught up on their news she sat up, saying they would go to Ryan's for dinner.

'Our maid only comes in during the mornings, and I hate cooking, so we often eat out. And you can meet some of the ex-pats. It's a general meeting place for the folk living nearby.'

'Who lives here?'

'Betty and Ryan came here from Chicago, and bought the bar. They couldn't stand the winters in the windy city. One of the richest, who has been here for some time, is Lucian de Vere, who made a fortune on Wall Street. Pleasant most of the time, but can be touchy. He's better when his daughter Caroline is with him, and as she's an artist and paints landscapes and flower pictures to sell to tourists she fortunately spends much of her time here. Then there's Boris Solverson, big, blond, Nordic type from Texas, who sails all the time when he's not with the girls he picks up in Bridgetown. He hasn't done a day's work in his life, depends on a mad but wealthy father with oil businesses. For some unknown reason Caroline is besotted with him. His looks, I assume, certainly not his brains. Then there is our Lady Helen McQueen, English, divorced twice, maybe three times, I don't know for sure, and with a child about six years old. She's also besotted with him and ready to make the same mistake as she seems to have done before. I think that will do for now. If we meet any others tonight I can fill you in.'

Dodie grinned. Sally was just the same as she'd been in Hollywood, eager to find out all she could about newcomers.

'I think that's enough for me to remember. Ryan and Betty who run the bar. Lucian, rich, artist daughter Caroline, Boris the playboy and Lady Helen the hunter. I'll try and sort them out if we meet.'

* * *

It was only a short way to Ryan's bar, but Fraser insisted on driving, saying it was uphill, Dodie must be tired, and it would be dark when they came home. There were already a dozen cars parked near the building, which was bigger than Dodie expected. To one side was what was clearly a bar, the noise drifting out through open doors and windows. To the other side, through big windows, she could see restaurant tables, almost swamped by large vases of the island flowers on each. It could be difficult, she thought, trying to converse with the person opposite.

Sally ushered her into the bar room and was immediately greeted with loud exclamations from half a dozen people standing round the long bar counter. Dodie wondered if she could pick out any of the people Sally had mentioned. A man behind the bar, tall and thin, middle aged, his grey hair rapidly receding, wearing spectacles and an overlarge Hawaiian shirt, must be Ryan. The big, blond, blue-eyed bronzed man, his face creased with paler lines as though he spent a good deal of time squinting into the sun, and wearing, despite the heat, a large ribbed sweater, could be Boris. The small dark girl looking up at him adoringly was slim and shapely, very pretty and wearing not very much apart from several rings and gold neck chains, might be Caroline. Then Sally took her arm and moved towards them.

'This is my friend Dodie Fanshaw from England. Lady Helen McQueen and Don Heywood, they are both English too. Dodie's over here for a while, to get away from the English weather.'

So much for my powers of deduction, though Dodie, and held out her hand.

'Don't we all?'

Lady Helen gave Dodie a swift appraisal, just touching her outstretched fingers for a half second, and obviously concluded she was no threat before she flashed a cool hint of a smile. Her voice was aggressively upper class British, and quite different from Don's as he greeted Dodie with a grin and a broad northern accent. She thought it was Lancashire, but wasn't sure. There were traces of Geordie in it too. That accounted for his Nordic appearance. The Vikings had overrun much of northern England, and left their genes behind.

Fraser had been ordering drinks. Dodie took the highly coloured cocktail he had insisted she tried and sipped dubiously. She was wary of anything other than her usual gin and tonic, but this was pleasant, sweet, fruity and did not seem too alcoholic. She took a deeper swallow, and a moment later was trying not to cough. It was obviously rum-based, and had a kick she hadn't been expecting.

Sally was trying not to laugh. 'Mind your jet lag,' she said. 'Let's go and eat straight away.'

'We'll inflict the others on you later,' Fraser said, apparently uncaring that several people could hear him.

Dodie followed him through into the restaurant area, where a smiling waitress led them to a table in the corner, by an open window.

'Good, we can see everyone from here,' Sally approved, making Dodie sit facing the room while she and Fraser took chairs on either side. The vase of flowers, Dodie was glad to see, was moved to an empty table to the side, and she had an uninterrupted view of the other diners and those in the bar.

The pretty waitress produced menus.

'Welcome to Barbados,' she said to Dodie. 'I'm Nerissa. What can I get for you?'

'Fish,' Sally insisted. 'What's good tonight?'

Nerissa smiled. 'We have fresh swordfish, caught today, and sweet potato fries, the potatoes from my Daddy's garden. With broccoli and pumpkin perhaps? And a green salad. Fresh fruit to follow.'

'That sounds delicious,' Dodie managed, blinking and wondering if she could eat it all.

'We bring small portions, with more when you want some,' Nerissa said, and Dodie grinned at her.

'Thank you. That's perfect.'

'We'll all have the same,' Sally said, and when the girl had moved away she told Dodie she always went by Nerissa's recommendations.

'All the food is good here, but she is so helpful, and never suggests the same food two nights running. I don't know how she remembers what we all had.'

Other people had come into the restaurant now, and Sally tried to point out the ones not yet introduced.

'That's Lucian, the tall distinguished looking one, in the rather formal suit, and Caroline with him. I'll take you over afterwards. And this one coming in is Matt Cooper. He's a Brit, though he's worked in the States, and hanging round Caroline, but she won't look at the poor man.'

Dodie, a perpetual people watcher, quietly observed the other diners as they ate. Lucian, though formally dressed, had on a lightweight cotton suit and a loose cravat instead of a tie. He seemed preoccupied although he was listening to his daughter, head bent courteously towards her as she spoke animatedly with swift hand gestures. Caroline was wearing a multi-coloured caftan, and had what looked like a long paint brush stuck through her mop of black curly hair. Had she just forgotten, or was she being artistically precious?

Matt wore white designer jeans and an open-necked red shirt. His face was thin, he had a sharp nose and an aggressive chin. If he was some sort of businessman she would not relish doing business with him. He looked tough. As he waved away the menu Dodie caught the gleams of several gold rings. The food arrived and was delicious, and the by-play continued to be intriguing. Matt had acquired a table as close to Lucian and Caroline as possible, and seemed to want to join in their conversation, leaning over towards them occasionally. Caroline ignored him beyond a cool nod, and Lucian kept throwing him irritated glances.

'I gather Papa does not approve.'

Fraser snorted with laughter. 'He can't stand the man. He'd throw him into the sea if it were deep enough to drown him. Unfortunately the beach shelves very gradually.'

'Hush, Fraser, he'll – ' Sally was saying when she stopped abruptly. 'Oh my God, how did she get here?'

* * *

A slender woman with long blonde hair piled in a knot on top of her head had come into the restaurant. She wore a tight-fitting, ankle length dress of what Dodie thought was black satin, and red shoes with teeteringly high heels. Her face was beautifully made up, but with rather too much bright scarlet lip gloss and heavy green and brown eye shadow that emphasised her cat-like green eyes. A long string of what looked like genuine emeralds dangled over her shapely bosom, and she wore both diamond and emerald rings on her right hand, with a plain gold wedding band on the left. She glanced round languidly, then strolled across to Lucian's table and pulled out one of the spare chairs, sinking into it with a sigh of relief. Another woman, plump and with grey hair tightly curled, wearing a flowered dress that irresistibly reminded Dodie of the wrap-around aprons her Gran used to wear, and low-heeled sandals, and carrying an ungainly beach bag of the sort Dodie had often seen in California, came in after her. It had the word California in bright red scrawled across the picture of a beach. She looked nervous and hesitated, then went anxiously towards Lucian's table too. He glanced up at her, sighed, and pulled out the last chair, rising to his feet to help her into it when she shook her head.

'Who?' Dodie asked softly.

Sally turned towards her, frowning.

'I thought we were rid of her when she went back to the States last year. Lucian's second wife, Goldie de Vere,' she added. 'She claims she was in Hollywood when we were, but we never saw her, and if she did make films I can guess what sort!'

'You