Murder in Paradise - 8. Chapter 8

Herrera found himself drawn into an increasingly complex web of intrigue. The more he looked at the case, the more questions arose. One such question was the potential involvement of Giovanni Salvatore, the powerful figure from Ardmani.

While it seemed far-fetched, the scenario was not entirely impossible. If Giovanni had somehow obtained the remaining pills from Roland, he could have used them to incapacitate him. But this would require a level of planning and execution that seemed out of character for the usually composed and calculating businessman.

Still, Herrera decided to explore this possibility. He arranged a meeting with Giovanni, a seemingly casual encounter in a discreet location. The conversation was tense, filled with unspoken accusations and veiled threats. Giovanni, however, maintained his composure, denying any involvement in Roland's death.

Herrera left the meeting with the feeling that this final avenue of possible suspects was closed. Something told him Giovanni, even if he exhibited a certain coldness and lack of empathy, he was not involved in Roland's murder.

Without any concrete evidence, he couldn't pursue the investigation any further and he risked failing in his mission to bring Roland's killer to justice.

Herrera found himself drawn back to Carlos Sanchez, the petty criminal whose involvement in the case was becoming increasingly significant. He still had time before he must either release Sanchez or bring charges.

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A tense atmosphere permeated the interrogation room.

"Mr. Sanchez," Herrera began, his voice low and deliberate, "if you keep up your little game you will end up the worse player and lose. What happened to the remaining pills?"

Sanchez hesitated, his eyes darting nervously. "I... I gave them to Beverley Henderson."

Herrera's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Beverley Henderson? The agency owner?"

Sanchez nodded, his voice barely a whisper. "She wanted them. She said she needed them for... for protection."

"Protection from whom?" Herrera pressed.

Sanchez shrugged. "I don't know. She never said."

Herrera was skeptical. Beverley Henderson, the seemingly elegant and composed woman, capable of such a sinister act? It didn't seem possible. But as he considered the revelation, he realised that nothing was as it seemed.

"If you gave Beverley Henderson the pills, then how come we recovered them from you when you tried to make your escape?"

Carlos Sanchez looked defeated, but he replied with the only answer he had left. "Arnold returned them. He was angry, said I had no right involving his wife and to get out and leave."

"When was this?"

"Later that night," Carlos sighed as if he thought Herrera would not believe him.

Herrera left Carlos, he had his confession and now he needed to confront Beverley, to see if she would admit her involvement. It was a risky move, but one that could lead to a breakthrough. The truth was out there, hidden beneath layers of deceit and lies. And he was determined to uncover it.

Before finding Beverley Henderson for a final confrontation Herrera received the results back from the lab for Alex Mason's clothing. The report stated there was a partial DNA other than Alex's which was that of Roland Fairbanks, At least an 85% match. So no one else was involved, Giovanni Salvatore had been telling the truth and that wild theory could be excluded.

The more he thought about it the more convinced he was that Beverley Henderson was at the root of all this. She had used Sanchez and Roland, then gotten rid of Roland with an overdose of pills. A quite callous and cold act, one for which she would be held accountable.

Alex Mason was also a victim in the affair, someone Beverley had used, or used the relationship with Roland to her advantage. Whether she had actually meant to kill Roland, that question was still outstanding.

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Herrera stood across the room in the palatial suite the Henderson's occupied, certainly he thought, wealth, greed and power had played a major role in this affair. The commissaire was about to make the final move in this game, a bluff of sorts which he hoped would produce the desired admission of guilt, but there were no guarantees.

"Mrs. Henderson," he began, with a tone both serious and assured. "After much searching I have finally all the pieces of the puzzle in place."

Herrera paused, a long silence hung heavily in the room. Mr. Henderson sat statue like observing the confrontation from his armchair.

"Carlos Sanchez, your very convenient jack of all trades has come clean. Jack of all trades," Herrera mused, "and master of none. He simply did your bidding and ran when things got too hot. Not a calculating mastermind I think."

Beverley looked at Herrera, but she said nothing, wanting to here the commissaire's exposition and at the same time not wanting to incriminate herself.

"Sanchez gave you the pills, he told us. Whatever happened after that, whether intentional or not, you drugged Roland, he must have tried to clear his head and that's how he was found on the beach in the early hours of the morning. Two of those pills could easily kill a man."

At that moment Arnold Henderson jumped up from his armchair. "You've been very persistent in your investigation," he said, his voice calm and steady, "But you haven't quite got it right."

Herrera turned his full attention on Arnold Henderson.

"I took the pills from Beverley. I went to see Roland and I saw what had happened. I spiked his drink. I lugged him half conscious to the beach with the help of Carlos. We left him there and Carlos recovered the remaining pills from Roland. So you see Commissaire Herrera my wife had nothing to do with Roland's death."

That last point was of course not entirely true. Herrera was stunned. The elegant and composed Beverley Henderson, the pillar of the modelling agency, had been involved in a deadly plot. Her husband, Arnold, the seemingly mild-mannered businessman, had administered a fatal dose of drugs.

It was a shocking revelation, one that had come about from this final confrontation and the last piece of the puzzle fell into place. The investigation had taken many twists and turns, each leading to a new dead end. But now, the truth had finally emerged, a dark and disturbing truth.

Herrera had to admit that he had underestimated the depths of human depravity, he had not considered Arnold Henderson a suspect. The world of fashion, often seen as glamorous and superficial, was in fact a breeding ground for ambition, jealousy, and deceit. And in the end, it was these dark forces that had claimed the life of Roland Fairbanks.

End.