by Fiona Leitch
“Spoken like a true detective,” I said, sliding off the bar stool and straight into his fortunately waiting arms. “Oopsy…”
The Pearl felt weird in the day time. The dining room did not have any windows or natural light, just masses of gilding, shiny metal and mirrors, all reflecting the ceiling lights - so it wasn’t that it looked different in daylight; day time and night time were arbitrary here. But it just felt wrong, like seeing a drag queen without their make up on, or a nightclub at 3 o’clock in the afternoon, or a room you’ve lived in for years with no furniture. Or a body with no life left in it…
The Purser flicked on all the lights and we sat at table in the centre of the room. I thought back to that night and tried to remember where everyone had been, as the Purser scrolled through the footage.
“So where do you want to watch from?” she asked. I considered.
“What’s the absolute earliest time Louise could have been murdered?” I asked.
“After she left and went back to her cabin,” said Will promptly.
“Okay, then let’s start with Zoé and Rob taking her out.”
The Purser fast forwarded through the footage, which was surprisingly sharp, although it was on a fairly small screen and I suspected it would be horribly blurred if we tried to zoom in too much. There we all were, clad in our fancy dress - the Bonnie and Clyde outfits really suited us, I thought - all chatting, laughing, oblivious to what was about to happen.
In the corner of the screen, a tiny me guided an equally tiny but incredibly wasted Louise into a seat. The steward, Rob, stood nearby, looking around the room. Even on this small screen, it was clear to see that he was on edge; it seemed so obvious now that he was waiting for something to happen that I wondered how I hadn’t spotted it at the time. But then you don’t, do you? When you’re at a bar or restaurant, how much notice do you take of the person waiting on you? What better way to become invisible than by putting on a uniform and serving drinks.
Zoé, who had been out of shot, scuttled across the screen heading straight towards me. We exchanged a few words, then she waved Rob over and I helped the two of them drape Louise’s arms around their shoulders. I spoke to Zoé again - I remembered telling her to be discreet - and they walk-carried Louise away, out of the Pearl and back to her cabin. I shuddered. They were taking her to her death. Why hadn’t I just let her pass out at the table? Why did I care if the mysterious photographer - who had thankfully gone quiet - took an embarrassing picture of her and shared it on Twitter? Because as much as I’d hated her, I didn’t hate her. Not really. Will was right; I had enjoyed bitching at her on the Internet.
On screen I watched them leave, then turned back to the game of ‘Who Am I?’. I joined Will, who was talking to Harvey and Michael. At one of the tables, Joel sat with Doris, Sarah and Sylvia, seemingly oblivious to the fact that all three women - who between them easily spanned ages 30-80 - were flirting outrageously with him. That much was clear to me, even at this distance. Sarah might have been too shy to talk to me, but she was having no trouble with Joel. But Joel wasn’t really listening; his attention was elsewhere. On me.
I felt Will stiffen beside me. He’d noticed it too. My ex-husband could not take his eyes off me, his gaze following me as I wandered between the groups, now talking to the Chief Purser, now getting another drink and standing apart for a moment, watching Rob return, alone, and go behind the bar.
Joel took a deep breath and a swig of his drink, then headed over to me. He’d come to ask if I knew where Louise was, but it hadn’t looked like he was missing her very much.
We chatted briefly, then he headed out of the Pearl.
I turned to Will. “How long had Louise been gone by this point? About 10 minutes?”
He looked at the time stamp at the bottom of the screen. “A bit less. Just under 9 minutes.”
“So Zoé and Joel are both with her now. Is anyone else missing? Although of course the camera angle means there are a few areas of the room we can’t see…”
We studied the screen, but all the other murder mystery players - apart from Heather and Karl, and we knew exactly where they were - were present. Joel and Zoé re-entered the Pearl, the door that led into it from the balcony of the Excelsior dining room swinging open for a moment right at the edge of the shot. Zoé made her way to the bar, fiddling with the wimple that covered her head, as it was looking decidedly lopsided. I wondered what those two had been up to, out in the corridor… Joel started towards me and Will then stopped, looking a bit lost.
“Well that doesn’t help us much,” I said. “The lights will be going out any second now - ”
“Look!” said the Chief Purser, pointing to the top of the screen.
She tapped on the miniature version of herself, looking at her watch then up at the steward - Rob - behind the bar, raising her hand to signal lights out. And next to her, at the edge of the picture, the door swung open again as Sarah - who’d lost interest in the conversation at her table the minute Joel had left it - made her way out of the room.
Chapter 28
“So,” said Will, as the Purser fast forwarded through the footage - the lights had gone out as Sarah left the room, and the screen was in darkness - “it looks like our new main suspect had the opportunity…”
“And she had motive,” I said. Will raised his eyebrows. “She did!” I insisted. “She must’ve done! I told you, she’s the only person on this ship with even a tenuous link to me - ”
“Other than me and Joel,” said Will, meaningfully. I groaned.
“Oh come on! It’s not Joel. And I know it’s not you.” I took his hands. “I told you, Joel’s not out to get me banged up. He’s trying to clear my name.”
“Hmm…” Will looked unconvinced. The Purser looked awkwardly between the two of us and stood up.
“I - I think I’ll go and look at this over there, under the light…” she said diplomatically, and I smiled gratefully at her as she left us. I took Will’s hand.
“Look, I know you don’t like Joel - ” he snorted. “Believe it or not, I don’t particularly want the three of us to become best buddies and all hang out together after this cruise has ended, either. But you can’t let your personal feelings towards him affect the investigation.”
“I won’t if you won’t,” he said. I felt a little guilty twinge; but the only personal feelings I had involving Joel were disgust at myself for still finding him attractive, despite myself. Will was the only man for me, surely he knew that?
“I’m not,” I said firmly. “When it comes to arrogance Joel could win Olympic gold for Britain, and he does have a tendency to descend into full blown twattery after a few drinks, but he’s no more a murderer than…” My voice trailed away and Will snorted again. Really, he had an enormous talent for contemptuous snorting, and to this day I’ve never heard anyone do it better.
“No more than me, you were going to say.”
Busted. “Yeah, okay. But it’s different with you. You were a soldier, you’re in Intelligence. It’s your job to protect people, which occasionally means getting your hands dirty.”
Will gave a small but genuine smile. “That’s a diplomatic way of putting it.”
“It’s true, though. You’re trained to protect people. The only person Joel’s ever protected is himself.” I leaned over and kissed him. “You are worth ten of Joel. Maybe even eleven…”
He laughed. “As many as that? Wow. Okay.”
The Purser returned, clutching the iPad and looking relieved that whatever was going on with us, was clearly over.
“So, I’ve got to the part where the lights come back on,” she said. “But I have to go and do some work. I’ll leave the detective stuff to you.” She handed me the iPad. “If you need anything else, do let me know.”
We watched her leave the room, then turned back to the footage. I hit Play. On screen the Pearl was suddenly illuminated, showing the body of the pretend-murdered steward sprawl
ed across a table. Will pointed to the doorway. “Look!”
Sarah scurried in, looking around in confusion at the scene before her. Her face cleared as she realised the corpse was only play-acting, then she rushed over to Doris and handed her something.
Will and I exchanged looks.
“So she was out of the Pearl for the whole murder window,” I said.
Will nodded. “I was wondering why anyone would set you up, rather than just murdering you, which must surely be easier.” I shuddered. “But of course the murderer could also have had a grudge against Louise. Kind of a two-birds-with-one-corkscrew thing. If we’re going with the rejection scenario as motive, surely one rejection wouldn’t be enough? Maybe she approached Louise’s agent and got turned down there as well. It’s perfectly feasible she’d approach the agents of all her favourite crime writers.”
“You could be right,” I said. And then something occurred to me. “Joel’s with the same agent…”
“Where is he now?”
“He said he was going to follow her around for a bit, maybe get close to her…” I looked at Will in alarm. “What if she tries to kill Joel next?”
Despite Joel not being his favourite person in the world, Will was concerned enough about his fate (and the possibility of yet another murder being blamed on me - let’s face it, if there was one person I couldn’t be blamed for wanting to see the back of, it would be Joel) to agree that we should go and look for him. We decided to split up, so I headed outside onto the deck and wandered around, enjoying the sunshine and the fresh air despite being on the trail of a suspected murderer and their potential 4th victim. What can I say? I’m not insensitive, I just like being on boats.
I ambled to the prow of the ship; by now, anyone wanting to recreate the scene out of Titanic (the “I’m flying!” bit, not the holy crap we’ve hit an iceberg bit - that would just be daft and against all sorts of Health and Safety regulations) had got it out of their system, and the only people out on deck were oldsters with no desire to be either Kate or Leo (or the iceberg, for that matter), light blankets tucked over their knees, doing crossword puzzles and drinking tea on the sun loungers. Which I had to admit was beginning to look more appealing than spending the entire cruise tripping over corpses and protesting my innocence.
I strolled casually, trying not to look like I was searching for someone, but there was no sign of either Sarah or Joel. I made my way to the back of the ship, towards the swimming pool and the poolside bar. Earlier - during my non-mocktail session - there had been a couple of diehard swimmers, ploughing up and down the pool in an attempt to mitigate the effects of the all-day buffet (or was I just projecting my own insecurities on to them?). But now the placid chlorinated water had turned into Kid Soup, a roiling cauldron of slightly sticky small children clinging onto brightly coloured inflatable unicorns and dolphins, screaming, while indulgent (or just too knackered to care) parents drank cafe lattes and pretended they were someone else’s responsibility. It was a scene to gladden the heart of any infertile woman, I thought. Although it wasn’t really.
I plumped myself down on a sun lounger, watching the children playing for a moment. I hadn’t thought about my infertility for a long time - after my initial shock and grief, it felt pointless to dwell on it - but every so often it popped into my head. I wondered what sort of mum I would have made. Will would be a brilliant dad, I thought; but then, would I have even met him if Joel and I had been able to have kids? Would I have been enough for Joel, if we’d had a baby or two to seal the deal? Chances were he would still have been a cheating scumbag, only I might not have been so quick to chuck him out and make myself a single mum. No, as much as I had wanted children, much better to be childless and happy with Will, than miserable and sprogged up with Joel…
“Sorry, can I join you?”
I jumped and looked up in surprise. Sarah stood before me, looking at me anxiously. I felt a lurch of alarm; was she about to try and drown me in that sea of toddlers? But I just smiled.
“Of course. Don’t mind me, I was miles away…” I wished, now that she’d found me, that I really was; and where the hell was Joel, if he was supposed to be keeping an eye on her?
Sarah sat on the sun lounger next to me, not lying back to relax but perching awkwardly on the edge. She fidgeted nervously. She didn’t look homicidal, for what it was worth.
“What can I do for you?” I asked her. “I think you have something to say to me, don’t you?” Maybe a confession?
She nodded. “I wanted to apologise for the other night, at karaoke. It just seemed a bit trivial, after finding poor Sylvia…”
“Apologise for what?”
“My mum, asking you to read my book - I was so embarrassed, I mean you don’t just ask a bestselling author to read your novel when you’re an aspiring writer like me - ”
I held up my hand to stop her. “Oh that! It’s fine. Everyone’s mum is embarrassing at times, according to mine that’s one of the perks of being a parent.” She laughed. “And don’t call yourself an aspiring writer. If you write, you’re a writer. End of.” She smiled at me gratefully and I felt myself warming to her. Surely she couldn’t really be a murderer? I’d been so convinced earlier… And of course, she had been out of the room during the time of Louise’s murder. I steeled myself, hiding it under a smile.
“So where is your mum? It must be hard on you, coming on a cruise and spending the whole time looking after her. The elderly can be very demanding.”
Sarah smiled and shook her head. “Oh no, not really. I don’t see her much generally, I’m so busy with work and writing and everything - I did offer to move in and look after her, but she refused. She wanted me to have a social life, not spend all my free time looking after her.” Her face softened and I realised that we’d got it completely wrong about her being downtrodden and in thrall to the indomitable Doris. “She insisted on getting a carer - she does need a lot of looking after - which is great, but it makes me feel a bit guilty. So when we go on holiday together I make sure the carer stays at home, so I can devote myself to her. It’s lovely spending some proper time with her, even if it does get a bit tiring for both of us.”
“Aw, that’s so nice!” I said, touched. “You must really love her.”
She looked at me, almost in surprise. “Of course I do! She’s my mum…”
We watched the children in a slightly awkward silence for a while, then she turned to me again.
“I also wanted to explain about what Mum said - about me not talking to you? Well that was her idea as well. I don’t want you to think I’m some kind of stalker! She doesn’t really understand how writing and publishing works. When we were talking about a holiday, I suggested a cruise because she can’t really get around much now. By the time I visited her again, she’d booked this one because of you being here for the murder mystery. She thought I could come along and pump you and the other writers for information on getting my book published, which was sweet of her if completely misguided and embarrassing…” I laughed and she smiled again.
“And you sent your book to Slater Douglas?” I was starting to lose faith in my theory, but if she really had been rejected by my agency…
“Among others,” she said. “I haven’t heard back from them yet, but it does say on their website that it could take 3-6 months, maybe more, to hear back. And it’s not been that long yet.”
“Still, the rejections can get you down…” I was just about ready to give up on my theory; I really couldn’t see this woman murdering anybody.
She nodded. “Yes, I’ve already had plenty. But someone turned down JK Rowling and the Beatles, remember?”
I laughed. “Yes, they did. And Star Wars. And probably 99% of everything else that’s now a huge success.”
“Exactly. It’s hard, but I’m trying not to take it to heart.”
We sat in silence again for a moment, a rather more companionable one this time. I fished into my bag and brought o
ut the iPad that the Chief Purser had left with me.
“Can I show you something?” I said. She looked surprised but nodded.
“Of course.”
I brought up the CCTV footage from the Pearl.
“Will and I have been trying to work out when Louise was killed,” I said. “The other two deaths - ”
“Two deaths?” She looked genuinely shocked, and I remembered that the steward’s death was not common knowledge. Another mark against her as our murderer.
“Yes. We have reason to believe that one of the stewards was helping the murderer, only they obviously decided they couldn’t trust him and shut him up permanently.” She gulped. She really did look surprised; although of course it could have been surprise that the body had been found, as no one had mentioned it. She could have been confident that Rob wouldn’t be found until after we’d reached New York.
She could just be completely innocent. I continued.
“With the other two deaths we’ve got so little to go on. We’ve concentrated on Louise’s murder, as we think it’s highly likely that the murderer had contact with her prior to her death.”
“You think it was one of the murder mystery players?” Sarah narrowed her eyes, thinking. “That does make sense. We’ve kind of kept to ourselves as a group, haven’t we? I don’t know who else would have even known she was on the boat.”
“Exactly! So we’ve managed to narrow down the murderer’s window of opportunity to the same time as the pretend murder in the Pearl that night.”
“What time was that?” she asked. “I didn’t see the murder, I wasn’t there…”
I held out the iPad and showed her the footage. She watched herself on the small screen, entering the Pearl as the ‘corpse’ was discovered and looking alarmed, then hurrying over to her mother.
“Where had you been?” I asked.
