Dastardly Deeds

by Evans, Ilsa

  ‘This can come out soon,’ she said, nodding at the IV as she tucked me back in and positioned the remaining sandbags. ‘You’re doing very well.’

  I watched as she packed up her equipment and then left, returning briefly with a cup of tea, a packet of biscuits and strict instructions to rest. The cellophane wrapping on the biscuits proved to be a test of skill that kept me occupied for several minutes. Longer, if you count having to gather up the crumbs that remained. But I was sitting calmly, even a little regally, cup of tea in one hand, when Darcy walked in.

  ‘I’m only allowed to stay a minute,’ he said, crossing to my bed and kissing me on the cheek. ‘That nurse out there is a bit scary.’

  ‘How’s Tessa?’

  He drew in breath and then exhaled noisily. ‘Doing okay, given the circumstances. You know she lost the baby? I didn’t even know she was pregnant.’

  ‘I think she was scared to tell you.’

  ‘Yes.’ He lapsed into silence for a moment. ‘But you both survived. Twelve hours in the middle of the sea. Lucky the water was relatively warm. Mild hypothermia only. And Tessa said you saved her life. You held her hand all night.’

  ‘That’s hardly heroic. It’s not like I fought off Moby Dick. Was it really twelve hours?’

  ‘That’s what the newspaper said. A frigging miracle. Thought I’d lost you both.’

  ‘You were just worried you’d have Quinn moving in.’

  ‘That did occur to me.’ He grinned. ‘Speaking of Quinn, I’ve booked flights for Tessa and I for tomorrow night. I think Petra and Ruby are flying out around the same time. Anyway, the doctor said Tess’ll be okay to fly by then and she just wants to get home to spend time with Sophie. So Quinn wants to come with us. She misses her friends. Apparently the Russos are flying out then as well. It’s okay with me if it’s okay with you.’

  I suspected she was far more interested in spending time with her tousle-haired beau than getting home. ‘Ah. Well, that’s fine, but I’m not sure what I’m doing yet. Who’s going to keep an eye on her if I’m a day or so later?’

  ‘She’ll be fine,’ said Darcy airily. ‘Between Scarlet, Lucy and I, we’ll be able to manage. You just look after yourself.’ He gave me another kiss and headed towards the door. ‘Loosen the apron strings a bit, while you’re at it. She’s a good kid. No need to be so overprotective.’

  ‘Really?’ I felt my eyes narrow. ‘Number one, I’m not. Number two, she asked me the other day how old I was when I lost my virginity.’

  Darcy stopped. His face stilled. ‘Yes. Okay. She can stay with me.’

  ‘Good.’

  The door closed behind him and I allowed myself a small smile. It didn’t last long. Everyone had visited me now except Ashley. It didn’t make sense. Neither did my disappointment. It sat in the pit of my stomach alongside the biscuits, and probably at least one sliver of cellophane, congealing nauseously. Even Donald had dropped in. If he could make the time, then where was Ashley? I stared at the door, willing it to open one more time. But it didn’t.

  Chapter 32

  I take umbrage at your criticism of Sylvester Stallone. He most definitely has expression in his face. So does Nicolas Cage. Subtlety is the sign of good acting. Not that you’d know. I had a good look at your photo. You need Botox.

  I was walking down the path at Gallipoli once more, but this time I knew in advance that Kim Satchwell would not be there. I climbed the steps and came into the clearing. A small, slatted bench had been installed. Bouquets of flowers were piled at one end, like a memorial: roses and lilies and colourful mixtures of overripe blooms. Phoebe sat at the other end, watching me, her eyes flat.

  ‘You let me die. You really are the worst type of person.’

  ‘That’s rich, coming from you. I never killed anyone.’

  ‘You killed me,’ she said immediately. ‘I begged to use the lifebuoy for a little while. Just to keep me going. I told you I couldn’t hang on.’

  Her clothing clung damply to her body, like a shroud. The cheesecloth portions looked like shredded toilet paper. A puddle of water had formed around her feet. I lifted my gaze to her face. ‘You’re twisting things all around.’

  ‘Oh? Like my body as I sunk slowly to the sea floor?’

  I rolled my eyes. ‘Okay, now that’s a touch melodramatic. Seriously.’

  ‘You killed me. Murderer.’

  ‘That’s it. I’m not staying here to listen to your crap.’

  I tried to roll over but the two remaining sandbags kept me in place. There was someone in my room. I could hear them breathing. I was washed with a wave of dread at the thought that Phoebe had followed me back. But even as the idea formed, it was dismissed. For starters, she wouldn’t have been breathing. It was Ashley. It had to be Ashley.

  I opened my eyes to find that it was neither. Instead Donald stood with one hand on my IV, examining it. I processed this surprising turn of events. ‘What are you doing?’

  He jerked, the IV tubing swaying against the stand. Something clattered. ‘You’re awake. I thought you’d have been given sedation.’

  ‘I didn’t want it,’ I said, still staring at him. ‘Why are you here?’

  ‘Oh, just thought I’d come to say hello.’ He moved away to stand awkwardly beside the foot of my bed. ‘Didn’t get much of a chance earlier.’

  I frowned. This made absolutely no sense. I wasn’t even sure why he had made the trip over to Kalamata. Neither Tessa nor I were relatives of his. We were barely friends. Why wouldn’t he have just sent his best wishes and then flown out with Scott?

  ‘I would never have guessed,’ he said, pleating the edge of my covers. ‘About Phoebe.’

  ‘Nobody would have,’ I replied. Something felt very off. I moved my fingers under the bedclothes, searching for the nurse call button. Just in case.

  ‘I never even realised she was so unhappy. Or that she hated … anyone.’

  I couldn’t find the call button. I felt along the side of my leg and under my butt.

  ‘But then maybe—’ he paused, his voice lowering ‘—she hated herself most of all.’

  ‘Maybe.’ I peered around to the wall, following the cord across to the bedside table. It lay on the other side, out of reach. When I looked back at Donald, he was watching me. My skin prickled. I spoke casually. ‘Can you pass me that call button? I need the nurse to help me to the bathroom.’

  He gazed across at the window, but didn’t reply. It looked dark out, probably early evening.

  ‘Donald?’ I could hear my voice rising croakily. ‘Pass me the call button.’

  He shook his head, meeting my eyes for a moment before looking away.

  I stared at him. I thought of Kim Satchwell, strolling down the track with her camera, dressed much the same as me. There had been a distinct difference in the way the three women had been killed. Two had been sudden and spontaneous, while the third had been stalked. It had been deliberate. As well, Phoebe had shown a certain delight in the final expressions of her victims while Kim had been killed from behind. As if her killer hadn’t even wanted to make eye contact. Like now.

  I took a few deep breaths as I considered the situation. I could try to scream, but with my voice still hoarse, it was more than likely I wouldn’t be heard. Especially with my room tucked away. And I risked galvanising Donald into more direct action. I was not strong enough to put up a fight. My best bet was to make polite conversation, not agitate him, play for time. ‘Why did you do it?’

  He blinked at me, and glanced fleetingly at the IV. ‘No choice.’

  ‘People always have a choice.’

  ‘Then let’s just say I have a healthy dose of self-preservation.’ He adjusted his glasses and finally let his gaze settle on me. ‘And I’m sorry. Really. I like you.’

  ‘The feeling is not mutual.’ I loosened my arms beneath the covers but was hampered by the sandbags. ‘I take it you plan to kill me?’

  He nodded. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Well, in that cas
e, the least you could do is tell me why.’

  ‘You listened in,’ he replied immediately, accusingly. ‘When I was talking to Greg. You recorded it. You were going to use it in a column.’

  I gaped at him. ‘What?’

  ‘When we got back from Troy. In the stairwell. I saw you recording it.’ His eyebrows twitched. ‘Didn’t you think I’d realise when I saw you with your mobile phone up? Thinking you were so smart with your innuendo afterwards. All that stuff about being careful with my phone calls, and everyone needing a special plan. Then the next day, at lunch, asking me if I had any tips. That you’d keep your ear to the ground and see what turned up.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Do you think I’m stupid?’

  Actually, at the moment I did, but didn’t think that worth mentioning. I knew the occasion he was referring to, which had occurred over a week ago, when he’d been talking on his mobile around the side of the partition on the bottom deck of the ship. But for the life of me, literally, I had little recollection of the actual conversation. I had been focusing on the purple suitcase, and the realisation that Ashley was joining the cruise.

  ‘When I asked what you were writing about in Santorini, you even said crime! Did you really think you could get away with taunting me like that?’

  I spoke slowly. ‘I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about. I thought you were talking to a girlfriend who wanted to break up. Who’s Greg?’

  His mouth opened and then closed. He shook his head. ‘You’re lying.’

  ‘Why would I lie?’ I asked reasonably. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a shadow darken the small window set into the door. ‘I’m assuming it makes no difference at this stage. Either I knew whatever it is that you thought I knew, in which case you’ll kill me, or I didn’t know but now I do so you’ll have to kill me anyway.’

  ‘Then …’ He paused, his Adam’s apple juddering as he swallowed. ‘No.’

  ‘Yes.’

  He blinked. ‘You really didn’t know about the embezzlement?’

  ‘Ah, embezzlement!’ I thought back to the words he had used. You can’t give up now. You’ll be throwing away everything we’ve got. It all fell into place. ‘And you work for a building society. I assume Greg is your partner in crime. Was he getting cold feet?’

  He flicked a glance towards the IV. ‘Yes.’

  ‘So Kim really was a case of mistaken identity. And mistaken assumptions. That poor woman. It must have been quite a shock for you to see me afterwards.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said again. He took off his glasses and polished them with a corner of his shirt. ‘It was, rather.’

  ‘You took her money to make it look like a robbery, and then used some to pay for Scott’s sunglasses the next day.’ I ignored his puzzled expression. He didn’t know about Clint’s ten lira note and I couldn’t be bothered explaining. ‘And you pretended to like me so that you could stay close.’

  ‘Oh, no,’ he protested. ‘I really did like you. Although usually—’ he glanced up at my head ‘—I do prefer my women a little more … neat.’

  I fought the urge to run my fingers through my hair. ‘Did you steal my phone?’

  He nodded. ‘I had to destroy the recording.’

  ‘There was no recording! I was taking photos of the bloody suitcase!’ I stared at him but he wouldn’t meet my eyes. ‘Did you also put something in my doorjamb?’

  ‘The door was open,’ he mumbled. ‘It seemed like the perfect solution.’

  ‘I suppose you intended to come back later. Maybe push me over the balcony? Or smother me?’ I gazed at him questioningly, but he didn’t reply. ‘You must have thought all your prayers were answered when we went overboard. My death could be blamed on Phoebe and you’d be off the hook.’

  ‘But you survived,’ he said bitterly, slipping his glasses back on.

  ‘Sorry about that. So what’s plan B?’

  ‘Shush. Let me think.’ He rubbed his head ‘Christ, I don’t believe this.’

  I knew that silence was the best option but the words bubbled up anyway. ‘You stuffed up big-time. It was all for nothing.’

  ‘I said shush!’ He glanced at the IV and then mumbled something under his breath, frowning. He took a step across and picked up the tubing. I looked over at the door and the shadow was back. Donald was now sliding the tubing through his fingers as he followed the length gradually along the loops, until finally the clipped end lay in his hand. He stared at it.

  ‘Were you expecting to find this?’ I asked, pushing the sandbag aside so that I could lift my arm from beneath the covers. The bandage that the nurse had wrapped around the crook of my elbow, after she had removed the IV, was chalky-white against my skin.

  ‘Fuck,’ said Donald. Plan C flickered across his face.

  I moved quickly, scrambling up in the bed and reaching across for the metallic lamp. Unfortunately it was stuck to the table. I grabbed the IV stand instead, pulling it around and jabbing Donald in the chest. He yelped, staggering backwards.

  The door burst open and Ashley rushed in. He was carrying a carved statue that he immediately hauled back like a baseball bat. Donald turned to gape at him and Ashley swung the statue without hesitation, striking him on the side of the head. The top half of the statue snapped off, flying into the corner, and Donald dropped like a stone.

  We both stared at his recumbent figure. One finger twitched. After the long, slow build-up, it had all happened so quickly that it was almost anticlimactic.

  ‘Are you all right?’ asked Ashley, transferring his gaze to me. He still held the bottom half of the statue.

  ‘Yes.’ I lowered the IV stand. My heart was pounding. I was also conscious of the fact that I was kneeling on the bed in a too large and too short, somewhat see-through hospital gown. I didn’t have a bra on or, for that case, knickers. This might have been a good look when I was in my twenties or thirties, but possibly not so much now.

  A nurse hurried through the open door, followed by a beefy security man. They stopped, stunned, as they took in the scene.

  ‘We need the police,’ said Ashley, putting the broken statue down. ‘I’m a detective, from Australia. This man tried to kill her.’

  I nodded. ‘He injected something into my IV. Bleach, I’m guessing.’ I held up my arm. ‘Lucky for me, it wasn’t attached.’

  ‘Shit.’ Ashley stared at me. ‘If I’d known that, I’d have come in earlier.’

  The security man was already talking into his phone, while the nurse came over to kneel beside Donald and check his pulse. I slid back beneath the covers, arranging them decorously. Adrenalin still surged giddily through my body. I felt hot, for the first time in a long while. Ashley bent down beside the bedside chest and rose holding a syringe between two fingers. He stared at it for a moment, and then placed it fastidiously beside the lamp.

  I felt no sense of satisfaction that we had been partially right all along. It had been Donald. Instead I felt like crying. A woman had been killed because someone thought she was someone else, and that the someone else knew something she actually didn’t. It was all so futile. And it was also an element that Donald and Phoebe had in common. Both had acted without questioning their assumptions, narrowed by the lenses of their own egoism. And both had been willing to sacrifice everyone and anyone to that end. It was the self-indulgence that I found so nauseating. If it weren’t for the nurse and the security man, I would have slid from my bed and kicked Donald in the face.

  Ashley sat on the side of my bed and glanced at me briefly before settling his eyes once more on the recumbent Donald. He reached for my hand and folded it within his. I could feel his pulse through the heel of his palm. Even though it, like mine, was jagged, it settled me slowly. I could see the top half of the statue lying on its side over by the wall. Carved draperies fell from a silky shoulder. An oval face with an aquiline nose and a smooth brow. Piercing eyes. With a jolt I realised it was Athena. And that was just right.

  Chapter 33

  Thongs also make me
grumpy. And teenagers pouting like platypuses for their mobiles. And all those middle-aged male newsreaders with their perky weather girls. Why can’t middle-aged women read the news? What, are they worried about menopause being contagious?

  ‘I bought it for you at a market near the Australian embassy,’ said Ashley, trying to fit the two halves together. ‘You said you liked Athena. I’ll get you another one.’

  ‘No, I want that one. We’ll get it fixed.’

  ‘It’s made from resin. I wanted a wooden one but they won’t let that through customs. The wooden ones looked better. Are you sure you like it?’

  ‘I love it. And it’s perfect.’

  It was very late evening and, given the circumstances, I had been allowed one more visit from Ashley. Everybody else had come and gone, bringing a whirlwind of questions and wonderment. I had extracted a promise from both my daughters not to relate this latest turn of events to anyone back home, lest it filter through to their grandmother, but I didn’t hold out much hope. Apart from anything else, the newspapers were probably even now putting together their copy. New twist for cruise ship from hell as second murderer unmasked. ‘What next?’ ask remaining passengers.

  ‘I really didn’t know he’d done anything to the IV,’ said Ashley, yet again. ‘If I had, I wouldn’t have spent so much time listening in. I can’t believe how—’

  ‘Enough.’ I twisted around so that I could face him fully. The bedside lamp, which had been so useless as a weapon, cast a flattering glow over his face. ‘We’ve gone over all this. And apart from anything else, I am perfectly capable of looking after myself.’

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘So you didn’t need me?’

  ‘I won’t say that you weren’t helpful, but I did already have him on the run. An IV stand makes a surprisingly effective weapon. I might get myself one.’