Dastardly Deeds

by Evans, Ilsa

  ‘I am a bit. Didn’t you get my text saying I’d got here? Dad met me in the lobby. So did Quinn. Bet you haven’t even checked your phone.’ She paused, as if expecting me to contradict her. Instead I cast a glance towards her father, who paused in his own conversation to send me a smile. His teeth looked at least three shades whiter. ‘Anyway,’ continued Ruby, ‘so I sort of got stuck here, haven’t even been able to take my stuff up yet. I bet you’re pissed because I didn’t go say hello to you first.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. How petty do you think I am?’

  Instead of answering, she kissed me on the cheek and then pulled back to grin. ‘You’ve cut your hair. Looks good. And how exciting is this? Rome!’

  ‘Rome,’ I agreed. A slick-haired waiter had begun taking orders at the other end of the table. There seemed to be some problems with translations and Enid’s hearing aid, so he was probably going to be a while. I could see Petra over at the bar and hoped fervently she was bringing me wine.

  ‘Sit next to me,’ said Ruby.

  I slid into the empty chair and examined her once more. ‘So how are you?’

  ‘You already asked me that. And we can talk later, anyway.’ She smiled to soften the words, but clearly something was being avoided. I wasn’t surprised.

  A major problem with this seating arrangement, I noticed as I turned away from my daughter, was that it put me beside my ex-husband. Apart from the teeth, he was looking very familiar. His dark hair was flecked with grey, his eyes creased with humour.

  He gave me a wry smile. ‘Hey, I saw you at the Colosseum today. You looked like you were hiding.’

  ‘Clearly not well enough.’

  ‘Don’t be like that.’ He flashed me another smile.

  I put up a hand protectively. ‘You’re blinding me! What’s with the teeth?’

  ‘Um. Ah, just a treatment. Nothing much, just—’

  ‘I think they look wonderful,’ interrupted Tessa from his other side. She beamed at him. ‘Just like George Clooney.’

  ‘More like Woody Allen,’ said Petra, placing a glass of wine in front of me.

  Darcy nodded agreeably. ‘Fine, just call me Woody then. I quite like Woody.’

  ‘Yes. So I’ve heard.’ Petra walked around to sit beside a portly Michael Russo, who gave her an appreciative glance. She raised her glass at me. ‘Cheers.’

  ‘Cheers,’ I said enthusiastically. The wine was tangy and delicious.

  ‘You should try some of this.’ Darcy swivelled his bottle until the label faced me. He was a wine aficionado, having even been recently re-elected to the presidency of our local Wine and Cheese Society back home.

  The label meant nothing to me though. He was probably mixing me up with someone else. I picked up the menu and glanced surreptitiously at Tessa. I was pleased to see that she still hadn’t dropped her baby weight although much of it appeared to be concentrated around her breasts, particularly the left. They were like lopsided topographical features. Breaking news: Woman chuffed by disproportionate weight gain of ex-husband’s lover.

  ‘Anyway, so nice to see you Darcy,’ said Petra chummily. ‘It was such a pleasant surprise to hear you were joining us on the cruise.’

  ‘I can understand the pleasure but I’m not sure why you’d be surprised.’ Darcy gave her one of his thousand-kilowatt smiles. ‘After all, Deb is Tessa’s sister, which makes Lew her brother-in-law. Plus, of course, two of my daughters are here, including one I haven’t seen for a year.’

  ‘Sixteen months,’ I corrected curtly. ‘And twenty-three days.’

  Ruby grabbed my hand and squeezed it. ‘You know the exact days!’

  The slick-haired waiter finally made it to our side, looking slightly harassed. He plastered a smile onto his face and opened his mouth.

  ‘Don’t even have to look,’ said Darcy. ‘We’ll have a margherita pizza for two. Can’t be in Italy without having pizza!’

  Tessa was nodding. Her left breast was definitely more wobbly than the right.

  ‘Lasagne, please,’ said Petra. ‘With salad.’

  ‘Same here, thanks.’ I passed the menu to Ruby and took another sip of wine.

  ‘What’s going on with our youngest?’ asked Darcy, nodding towards the end of the table. He wasn’t smiling now. We watched as Quinn whispered something to Griffin Russo. I had known this boy all his life, even had a photo of him as a sturdy kindergartner, but burgeoning adulthood lent him a subtle unfamiliarity. His small, tight man-bun didn’t help matters. It looked like a tumour.

  ‘Maybe they’re on again.’ I swallowed a sigh. I would far rather they remain off, but I wasn’t in the mood for bonding with Darcy over Quinn’s turbulent relationship with the youngest Russo boy. No doubt by tomorrow Griffin would have looked sideways at another girl or forgotten the anniversary of the first time they bought KFC together and it would all be over again.

  There was the tinkling sound of a spoon against glass from the top end of the table. Lew had arrived, having manoeuvred his wheelchair into position beside the empty chair. A blond giant of a man, even seated, he had been a paraplegic since a car accident about twenty-five years ago. Conversations petered off as everybody turned to give him their attention.

  ‘Hello, all!’ Lew tossed the spoon onto the table, where it clattered against the other cutlery. ‘I think I’ve managed to catch up with you all individually, apart from our latest arrivals—’ he flashed a grin towards Petra ‘—but this is my first chance to give an official welcome to Lew’s Crew en masse. Welcome to Rome!’

  Reciprocated welcomes echoed around the table, a little staggered, with Enid adding hers about a second after everybody else.

  ‘I hope you’ve been enjoying all the delights that this wonderful city has to offer. I’ve seen some amazing photos posted to our Facebook page. Anyone who hasn’t done the Colosseum yet, don’t forget there’s a package available that includes the Forum and the Pantheon. It’s a full day, but you need to make the most of tomorrow, because at noon on Tuesday, the minibus will be arriving to take us all down to the port of Civitavecchia to board our cruise ship!’ He paused for scattered applause. ‘All of us except for Michael, of course. We’ll bid him farewell for a few days.’

  Michael Russo beamed regally. I had heard about their plans so many times from Lyn that I knew them off by heart. Michael was attending a Very Important Meeting in a few days, after which he would fly to Turkey and meet us at Gallipoli. The Russos would then be hiring a car and driving to Istanbul, where they would meet up with us again before departing for some Family Time. Bulgaria was on their itinerary, and then Greece. The truth, according to Quinn, was that the Very Important Michael Russo got horribly seasick.

  Lew was speaking again. His smile had faded. ‘Now, on a more sombre note, I should tell you that my wife’s reunion group, which as you know will be joining us on the cruise ship, has been hit by some dreadful news.’ He paused again, this time to give his words weight. ‘One of her friends here … well, there was a tragic accident. She didn’t make it.’

  ‘Didn’t make what?’ asked Enid, frowning. ‘Speak up!’

  ‘Um, I meant she died.’

  ‘Oh my!’ Lyn Russo leant forward. ‘She would have been one of those people we met last night! Was she hit at one of those pedestrian crossings? I bet she was.’

  Lew was already shaking his head. ‘No. It was a fall.’

  ‘Oh, poor Deb!’ Tessa had risen, looking pale. ‘Where is she?’

  ‘At their hotel.’

  ‘How does one fall?’ asked my mother, almost crossly. ‘Was it deliberate? And what was going on last night? I don’t recall anything scheduled in the newsletter.’

  ‘No, it was just one of those things,’ Lew explained. ‘Some of us went out for dinner and happened to meet up with Deb and her lot. That’s all. As for the accident, I’d better leave it there. No doubt—’

  ‘April,’ I said with surprised certainty. It was all coming together.

  Several
heads turned towards me, puzzled. My mother was the first to speak. ‘Congratulations, your knowledge of the calendar is astounding. But perhaps you could save a recitation of other talents for post-dinner entertainment.’

  ‘And perhaps you could save your cutting-edge wit also.’ I looked back at Lew. ‘Her name – was it April?’

  ‘Oh, April!’ said Lyn. She turned to her husband and her voice flattened. ‘You remember her, don’t you? The chatty one, with dark hair.’

  Michael Russo nodded slowly but seemed reluctant to comment further.

  Lew held up a hand. ‘Look, I’m sure more information will be released soon. The family have only just been notified. The police have been at the hotel most—’

  ‘Which hotel?’ Lyn’s eyes had widened again. ‘This one? Did she fall from one of those balconies? I said they were unsafe. Michael, wasn’t I saying that just this morning? That they were unsafe?’

  I tuned her voice out. The group at the Colosseum, Phoebe and the two men, must have been part of Deb’s reunion group. April had been another. And she hadn’t fallen, she’d jumped. But why would anyone wait until a reunion to kill themselves? Had she been trying to make a point? Or maybe it was the month. Maybe she’d thought there was a resonance about April dying in April.

  ‘Bloody awful,’ said Darcy quietly. ‘Poor Deb. She’s been so excited about this trip.’

  ‘Bit of a bummer for April too,’ said Petra.

  ‘How did you know who it was?’ asked our mother, materialising by my shoulder. ‘Is it too much to hope that we could, just for once, have a death in the vicinity that you’re not involved with?’

  ‘I’m not involved. I just happened to overhear a conversation at the Colosseum, that’s all. And—’

  Darcy laughed. ‘Thousands of people flock through that place each day and you overhear a conversation.’

  ‘Yes. That’s what I said. But listen, what—’

  ‘Leave it, Nell,’ said Petra. ‘Seriously. Don’t go looking for problems.’

  I didn’t answer. Not just because I clearly didn’t have a very receptive audience, but because Petra’s request was silly. I very rarely went looking for problems. Unfortunately, that didn’t seem to make much difference. They found me anyway.

  Chapter 3

  Thought I would pass on my appreciation for the big improvement in your writing over the past two months. Your columns have been so much more enjoyable. Oh, wait – you didn’t write them? Enough said.

  The ship was majestic; a wedding cake of staggered layers, all of them glossy-white. The only splashes of colour were the curly blue wave painted along the prow and a row of orange-trimmed lifeboats that edged an upper deck. Balconies studded each tier, with deckchairs and glass balustrades and built-in canopies that supported the balcony above. It was amazingly large; both too cumbersome to possibly float and too splendid ever to sink.

  The sight rendered everybody temporarily speechless, which was a welcome relief after the long drive from Rome. It had been a long morning also, packing and making last-minute purchases and then tracking down my daughters, who had become lost trying to find the Spanish Steps. Yesterday had been equally busy, with a visit to St Peter’s Square and the catacombs and the Trevi Fountain and more basilicas than anyone could possibly want to see in a lifetime. Rome was literally chock-a-block with the things. There also seemed to be a lot of nuns.

  I had sent Deb Taylor a text conveying my sympathies. I’d also managed to get online during lunch and found a small article regarding April’s death. She had been a forty-four-year-old marketing manager, originally from Melbourne but living in London for many years. She left behind an adult son. Her death was described as a tragedy, occurring in the early hours of the morning, with police confident that there were no suspicious circumstances. Reading between the lines, I decided that Phoebe had been right: April had jumped – which didn’t make it any less tragic.

  Embarkation at Civitavecchia was remarkably smooth. Within an hour of us arriving at the dock, our suitcases had been tagged and taken, cruise cards were hanging on lanyards around our necks, and we were being formally welcomed onto the ship. A row of beaming staff stood by offering glasses of fruit punch. It tasted like liquefied fairy floss. I slipped my glass behind a porcelain vase and followed the others out into a small foyer. There were two glass-and-mirror lifts and a broad staircase. Everybody was already gathered around the lifts, waiting.

  ‘I’m taking the stairs,’ I said determinedly. ‘One of those travel shows suggested it. If you never use the lifts at all, it goes some way towards offsetting all the food. And I plan on consuming a lot of food.’

  ‘Sounds like a great idea!’ said Lew, spinning ninety degrees to one side. ‘But perhaps I’ll take the lift just this once.’

  My proposal met with plenty of encouragement, but Lew was the only one who actually moved, so I began my ascension alone. Unfortunately, the cabin I was sharing with Petra was on deck nine, which meant eighteen flights. Small glass boxes were set into each landing, holding an assortment of odd items. A plasticine model of a dandelion, a trio of plastic ducks, a lump of clay that looked like the kind of thing my children produced in preschool pottery classes. Each floor also afforded me the sight of my increasingly reddened face in the mirrored lift doors. Occasionally they slid open to reveal huddles of excited tourists, many of them holding full glasses of fruit punch.

  Petra was already in our cabin by the time I arrived. She had the glass door open to the balcony and a vast expanse of blue could be seen stretching out to the horizon.

  ‘Where have you been? Come and have a look! It’s all gorgeous!’

  ‘That’s a double bed,’ I said, staring at the offending item. I may have missed my sister, but not that much.

  She waved a hand. ‘All sorted. Roger’s going to separate them during the turndown service. He’s our steward. Look, we have chairs on our balcony! And a desk here, with a little couch. The girls have the same except theirs is an interior room so there’s a painting instead of a balcony. And look at this.’ She pushed past me and flung the wardrobe doors open. ‘Dressing-gowns! And heaps of room!’

  ‘Was that lift like a time machine? How long have you been here?’

  ‘Ages! I was just about to go see if you’d collapsed on the stairs. Come on, let’s explore. Then everyone’s meeting on the pool deck at four for welcome drinks.’

  ‘Can I take a breath first?’

  ‘No. That’s what you get for taking so long.’ She slammed the wardrobe closed so that she could tug the main door open. ‘Why are you bringing your bag? You don’t need anything except your cruise card!’

  She was right. Ruby and Quinn joined us as we toured the ship. At one food outlet we stopped to get iced coffee, at another we shared a platter of mini burgers and curly chips. A wave of the card was all that was required. There was a library with elaborate walnut fittings, an IT room with banks of Apple Macs, and even a casino, with flashing lights and arcade music lending ambience to the poker machines and roulette tables. There were bars everywhere, as well as piano lounges and cafes and restaurants and a three-storey theatre with a parquetry-floored stage. Then there was the twenty-four-hour buffet, with thick glass discs set into the floor so that the sea could be seen far below, lapping against the hull. The range of food was literally gobsmacking. A roast of the day, plus a pasta bar, taco bar, pizza bar and a glass display case of fresh steak and salmon fillets that could be cooked to order. And then there was the dessert buffet. It was almost obscene; the epitome of guilty pleasure. But I also knew that I was going to have to put such thoughts to one side if I was going to enjoy this trip. Middle-aged woman doubles her weight in ten days. Sets new record.

  By the time we reached the pool deck, I was in decadence overload. This wasn’t helped by the array of pools, spas and thalassotherapy ponds, each surrounded by deckchairs and beaming pool attendants. A band was setting up by the main pool. There was a lot of shouting and laughing and every seco
nd person seemed to be carrying a pastel-coloured cocktail. People were already in the pool, which I thought showed a lot of forethought given our suitcases had not yet been delivered to our cabins. Petra took our cruise cards over to the bar and returned with a tray on which were three cocktails and one glass of Coke.

  ‘Mine looks so boring,’ complained Quinn. Her brown hair was swept up into a ponytail and she looked even younger than her sixteen years. ‘You’d think they could at least stick on a piece of fruit.’

  ‘You can have this one,’ said Ruby, plucking a strawberry off her glass. She examined the drink. ‘What are these anyway?’

  Petra took a sip. ‘Quite nice. A mix of orange and pineapple juice, I’m guessing, with a dollop of coconut rum – no, normal rum, plus coconut cream and …’ She paused, considering. ‘Grenadine, if I’m not mistaken.’

  ‘Wow!’ Ruby raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m impressed! You must—’

  ‘Have paid a lot of attention when she watched them being made,’ I finished dryly. ‘Now, where are we supposed to be meeting the others?’

  Petra was grinning. ‘Spoilsport. Come on then, they’re up there.’ She pointed to an upper deck that ran around half the circumference of the pool deck.

  The band broke into a rendition of ‘Good Vibrations’ as we threaded our way through the clusters of people. I had my elbow bumped twice so I drained half my drink to make it easier to carry. It was very tasty. There was a winding staircase that led to the upper deck, which had a section in the middle that couldn’t be easily seen from below. It boasted another bar and a large semicircular divan, and this was where most of our group had gathered.

  ‘You made it!’ called Lew, wheeling over to greet us. ‘Welcome to decadence!’

  ‘Cheers!’ I said, raising my glass. ‘Hey, how did you get up here?’

  ‘There’s a lift round the other side. Hello, girls, how do you like your cabin?’

  ‘Lovely, thanks,’ said Ruby politely. Quinn was already edging away. I could see Griffin Russo leaning against the balustrade, putting some distance between himself and his parent.