His expression was almost condescending. “Don’t be taken in by all these lovely flowers and this luxurious sunshine-New Providence is a barren island…the soil is a thin layer over stone, nothing much can be grown here. The major crop of the Bahamas has always been, and probably always will be, piracy of one form or another.”
“Loosely speaking, that would include the rum-running of a few years ago, and the tourism of today.”
He nodded. “Exactly. And to this day, wealthy pirates like Sir Harry Oakes-no disrespect to the dead intended-seek shelter here from civilization…that is, taxes…in much the manner Blackbeard, Captain Henry Morgan, Anne Bonney and the rest found these islands a safe, secluded haven.”
I smiled over my coffee. “The roots of the Bay Street Pirates.”
Higgs chuckled softly. “Yes…and many of them are my clients, so I’ll ask you to grant me confidentiality on these views. But always keep in mind, Mr. Heller, as you search for the truth in this island of lies…many local residents are descended from wreckers.”
“Wreckers?”
He looked out the window absently, then back at me. “One hundred years ago, the major industry locally was luring cargo ships onto the rocks and reefs and pillaging them. It was governmentally sanctioned…people had ‘wrecking licenses,’ ships were registered as ‘salvage vessels.’ Easy money, Mr. Heller-that’s Nassau. And that’s why Freddie de Marigny goes against the grain.”
“In how bad a position does the local resentment against de Marigny put his defense?”
The smile was gone, now. “There are already signs of government collusion against my client.”
“Such as?”
He pointed his teaspoon at me. “Keep in mind there’s no love lost between Freddie and our Royal Governor. The Duke once asked Freddie to divert some water on land of his on Eleuthera, one of our ‘out’ islands, away from the black villagers and onto the property of the Duke’s rich friend Rosita Forbes. Freddie declined, and the Duke took angry exception, and Count de Marigny, in his tactful way, within the earshot of several, called the Duke ‘a pimple on the ass of the British Empire.’”
“How to win friends and influence ex-kings.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Then there’s Hallinan….”
“The Attorney General?”
Higgs nodded. “Not so long ago a sailboat washed up on Freddie’s beach in Eleuthera-in it were seven half- dead refugees from Devil’s Island.”
“The prison colony?”
“Yes. When France fell, the prison was shut down, and its prisoners declared free men. Under conditions of enormous physical and emotional strain, these seven had found their way to Nassau. Freddie admired their pluck- fed them, bathed, clothed them. Local churches joined his effort. But Harold Christie objected.”
“Why?”
“This ‘rabble’ was an embarrassment to the Bahamas. At Christie’s request, our Attorney General provided a solution: he slapped the refugees in jail.”
“On what grounds?”
He chuckled again. “None in particular-and that’s why Hallinan has
“So Hallinan did.”
“Reluctantly. Now they all have jobs-three were Vietnamese from Saigon, who found work in a local Chinese laundry.”
Around us in the dining room and on the enclosed porches were a number of Army officers; the brass were using the B.C. as their billet.
“All this makes de Marigny an ideal murderer,” I said, “from the Duke and his Attorney General’s point of view.”
He pointed a finger at me. “Yes-and remember, the Duke personally invited these American detectives aboard-who, my sources indicate, are ignoring any evidence that doesn’t pertain to my client. Washing the walls of bloody fingerprints being a prime example….”
I had mentioned that to him on the phone last night.
“And there are other suspicious occurrences,” he continued. “The two watchmen on duty at the Oakes estate the night of the murder have disappeared…blending into the local native population, apparently…but the police have made no effort to question or even find them.”
One of those was Samuel, who’d been surrey chauffeur to Marjorie Bristol and me.
“The prison doctor, Ricky Oberwarth, is a friendly acquaintance of Freddie’s. The day of the arrest, he examined Freddie for singed hairs and didn’t find any.”
I sat forward. “I was there when Barker and Melchen said they saw plenty of singed hairs.”
“Did you see them yourself?”
“No.”
He raised an eyebrow, set it back down. “Neither did Dr. Oberwarth. Within hours of the examination, Oberwarth was relieved of his duties at the prison. He asked why, but was refused an answer.”
“Couldn’t he demand one?”
“Not really. Ricky is a refugee from the Nazis…Jewish. He was allowed safe haven here only because a doctor was needed at Bahamas General.”
“So,” I said, “he decided it was the better part of valor not to press the issue.”
“Yes. And most interesting of all…when Freddie was arrested, he repeatedly asked the police to call his attorney of record-Sir Alfred Adderley, who is considered the leading defense specialist in the island.”
“But I read in your local paper that Adderley was hired to
“Precisely.” Higgs smiled humorlessly. “Mr. Adderley claims never to have received the Count’s messages. Instead, Freddie’s stuck with
“You strike me as good representation, Mr. Higgs. But why did de Marigny come to you?”
He shrugged those broad shoulders. “I’d been his attorney in several minor business matters. We’re yachting club friends, as well. I suggested he acquire top legal counsel from either the United States or Great Britain…but he insisted on me.”
“That’s quite a vote of confidence.”
“It is. Even better is Freddie’s assurance that if at any point in the case I’m less than convinced of his innocence, I may withdraw.”
Our breakfast arrived; mine was scrambled eggs and toast, but Higgs had grits with jelly-coconut milk.
“Mr. Heller,” Higgs said, spooning his grits, “I’m pleased to have your aid. An investigator of your reputation is going to make my first major criminal case somewhat easier, I think.”
“I’ll try. If it won’t spoil your breakfast, I’ll share some of my thoughts on the murder room…I was out there again yesterday with a reporter friend of mine.”
“Reporter friend?”
“A well-known mystery writer from America-Erle Stanley Gardner.”
Higgs beamed. “Perry Mason! I could use some pointers. Nonetheless, let’s be selective about what we give Mr. Gardner access to, in our investigations. The case is already receiving incredible attention in the American press-let’s use him to put our best face forward.”
“Agreed.”
He pushed his half-eaten grits to one side, touched his lips with a napkin. “Why don’t you fill me in about the murder scene, on our way.”
“Our way?”
“Yes-I think it’s time you met our mutual client….”
The warden was a polite, mustached Canadian named Miller; in khakis and pith helmet, he led Higgs and me in a three-man safari down the narrow, clammy corridor. Then, at the last of four cells, he turned the key, admitted us, and turned it again and was gone.
The best thing you could say for de Marigny’s cell was that it wasn’t a dark dungeon; it was a blindingly
