My Christmas On You... A Nine Days of Christmas Inspector Gloria Mystery DAY NINE

Day Nine: A Presidential Ball

The Executive Mansion always looked its best on the night of the Presidential Ball. It glittered like a jewel in the candles and lights that glowed in between the huge arrangements of perfumed flowers which decorated every surface. Even Gloria, who had been determined not to be impressed, had to agree it looked beautiful from the outside.

 Inside however was a different story. A huge crowd of people milled about in the Mansion Ballroom; wealthy business people, politicians, diplomats, foreign visitors and the old elite Liberian families all mingling, talking and laughing, a noise so loud that Gloria couldn’t hear herself thinking or anything Lawrence was saying. They had found it surprisingly easy to get into the Ball, once in their uniforms no-one had even questioned them, but what, wondered Gloria, were they going to do now they were here.

 ‘Wait and watch Glo.’, she saw Lawrence mouthing, as if reading her mind ‘We just observe.’

 Gloria shifted uncomfortably. Watching and waiting was not her strongest suit but she tried to take Lawrence’s advice and scanned the crowd again. She saw Sammy Wiseman arrive, his enormous bulk covered in a bright purple and gold outfit and wondered if he had brought the money he owed. He certainly looked ill at ease and kept turning his head this way and that. There were others she recognised, most of them politicians, government officials and judges she had come into conflict with at one time or another. They made a literal rogues gallery standing together on the raised platform at the end of the ballroom. But there was no-one fitting the description of Queenie Seapoint.

 The President’s arrival was marked by noisy music from the military band, the singing of the national anthem and then, as the strains of ‘All Hail Liberia Hail’ died away, the start of the Children’s Parade.

 The crowd fell silent, or at least quietened down, as the long dancing procession of masked and costumed figures began to make their way up the main stairs and into the ballroom, led by the drummers and traditional dancers. It was quite a sight. The rather sad collection of dusty costumes they had rescued now transformed into a vibrant, living pageant representing animals and creatures, people, trees and rivers led by the masked figure of Mammy Wata. It was only as the parade entered fully into the ballroom that Gloria felt a moment of disquiet. The tail end of the parade had no colourful characters, instead a single mask stood out in a sea of bright red raffia, crimson strips of cloth and scarlet flowers. It was the mask of a crying child, its eyes wide and scared and with a carved hand covering its mouth as if to silence the scream of pain. It was a crying child in a river of blood.

From their vantage point behind the platform Gloria and Lawrence could see the parade was making its way directly to where the President stood, smiling and swaying to the drumbeat. No-one else seemed to have picked up any note of threat or menace and Gloria could see that even the normally grim security personnel were smiling and relaxed.

‘We need to get down there Lawrence, now.’ They started pushing their way through the mass of bodies and had almost reached the front of the platform when they heard the first scream. Gloria looked up in time to see Sammy Wiseman, covered in blood, fall to the ground. Almost at the same time there were other screams and one by one a judge, a politician and other important people on the platform, also collapsed, blood on their faces and covering their expensive outfits.

As she mounted the steps onto the platform she saw the head of the parade, Mammy Wata, had stopped directly in front of the President. And then the drums stopped and for a moment everyone froze and there was only the sound of the waves from the nearby ocean.

 It was the President who spoke first into the silence, her voice calm and controlled. ‘What is the meaning of this?’

 The figure of Mammy Wata removed her mask and head covering and stood upright. As she moved quietly along the platform Gloria knew at once she was looking at none other than Queenie Seapoint.

‘We have something for you.’ Queenie’s voice boomed out as she pulled something from her pocket.’

The security officers began to move towards them but were stopped by a gesture from the President.

And Queenie stepped forward and held up a glittering gold necklace studded with sparkling diamonds. ‘These blood diamonds represent the blood of the children of the mines, all those children whose voice will never be heard again.’ And as if on cue the rest of the parade took off their masks and small voices began to ring out.

‘For my brother...for my friend...for my uncle...’

Gloria recognised Pascal whose friend had been kidnapped and never seen again, as well as some of the street kids who had helped them search for the costumes, including the small boy who had come back to them last dragging a dusty costume. He was clutching a faded photo of a smiling boy in a baseball cap.

 The president for once looked lost for words. ‘What do you want?’

 It was Pascal who stepped forward. ‘We want all the people who benefitted from our friends’ tears to pay for it.’ He pointed at their victims who had been splashed, it turned out, with pigs’ blood and who were now looking embarrassed or angry. ‘And we want this necklace to be worn every year at the Christmas Parade until justice has been done.’ He held it up and there was some clapping and cheering.

‘What do you think Inspector?’ When she turned to see who was whispering in her ear Gloria saw Ismael Tartoh standing there grinning.

‘You were part of this?’

‘I think so,’ his grin broadened. ‘Queenie Seapoint is my mother.’

 Gloria groaned. ‘You set all this up?’

 ‘Don’t feel bad Gloria please. My mother and I only found out recently what had been going on and we had to do something to make sure these children are protected, that those rogues actually pay for their crimes and that the Christmas Masque Parade can do good instead of bad. We knew you were the only person we could trust to follow it up. Now that the President has promised an investigation, in front of all these dignitaries, you will get the job of making sure it happens.’ He grinned again. ‘You know that, right?’

He turned to go but Gloria, smiling, caught his arm. ‘Eh my friend wait. All of this,’ she waved to the crowd of children who were standing with the president, ‘is fine but don’t forget. My Christmas is on you. I serious-ooh, my Christmas is on you!’