Free Deadly Deceit by Jean Harrod

through evaporation, and the salt settled into crystals.”
    It hadn’t escaped Jess’s attention that he was happier to explain the history of the salt industry than talk about the Governor’s accident. She got back to the point. “Are drugs a problem here?” she asked.
    He looked at her as if surprised by the question: “They’re becoming a problem. We’ve experienced an increase in supply over the last couple of years.”
    “Where do they come from? The US?”
    He shook his head. “Central and South America mostly. Some get diverted here on their way to the US. There are smuggling routes through other Caribbean countries too.” He fell silent and looked out the window again.
    Jess wasn’t sure whether to ask him about Clement Pearson’s suicide or not. In the end, she decided she would. “I read about the Immigration Minister’s suicide, in the Miami Post on the plane over.” She paused. “How has that affected everyone here?”
    He let out a deep sigh. “We’re heartbroken. Clement was born and brought up here.”
    It was said with such feeling Jess knew he meant it. “Do you have any idea why he committed suicide? I mean… was he upset or depressed about anything?”
    The Police Commissioner looked at her. “People tend not to show their feelings outwardly here, Miss Turner.” He paused to consider his words. “You will know from the newspaper that Clement’s son died of a drugs overdose recently. Clement was devastated, as was his wife.”
    She nodded. “I understand on the day he died, the Minister gave evidence to a British Inquiry into the sinking of two Haitian sloops. What can you tell me about that?”
    He was silent for a while, then he said: “UK officials came out to do the investigation. Their report concluded that the two sloops met the same fate, while sailing in bad weather.”
    “Both of them?”
    He nodded. “They ended up on the north-west reef, like so many other vessels over the centuries.”
    “Do you have a copy of that report?” she asked, thinking she ought to read it.
    “I do.” He nodded. “The Governor has a copy too.”
    Jess made a mental note to look for it when she got back. “Well,” she said, sympathetically. “It’s a shocking thing to happen once, let alone twice. It must have upset everyone here, especially Clement.
    He nodded, gravely.
    An attractive, white-washed building caught her eye as they drove past. It had tall pillars at the entrance and fancy balustrades around its verandahs. She leant closer to the window. The sign said it was the House of Assembly. The car park was empty, so she guessed Parliament wasn’t in session.
    Soon, they were driving into town. They passed a two-storey office block, which she saw was the Police HQ, then an old prison, a museum, and a few shops before reaching a single roundabout. Turning right, they started to make their way up to the Ridge. Jess glanced at the Police Commissioner again. He was sitting so quietly she decided to leave him to his thoughts.
    When they came to what looked like a small settlement, he surprised her by suddenly starting to talk. “They’re the problem.” He tapped on the window to emphasise his point. “Coming illegally in their sloops night after night. We send them home, and they come straight back. There are eight million of them just across the water in Haiti, and less than 50,000 of us. We’re getting overrun.” He looked at her as if she were personally responsible. “Something has to be done about it.”
    Jess saw the driver nodding his head in agreement. Out the window, she could see the houses were made of plywood, and corrugated metal roofs covered with sheet plastic. Washing lines hung between the houses, with colourful clothes pegged to them, while children and dogs chased each other around in the sunshine.
    When Jess looked back at the Police Commissioner, little beads of sweat trickled down his forehead. Was he steamed up about the Haitians? Or just hot?
    “You