The Islanders

by S. V. Leonard

  ‘Oh my God, Sophia,’ says Rosalind, her voice catching.

  My mind is spinning with questions. My trembling legs carry me away from her body. I can’t look at her, I can’t be here. It feels like it’s my fault she is dead. I have her blood on my hands, literally. The blood from Sophia’s body has sunk into the creases in my palms. I dash to the pool and plunge my hands in, scrubbing them against one another. The blood stains the water crimson, pooling in circles around my hands. I wipe my hands on my trousers; my palms are clean but still tinged with the red.

  ‘You tricked me,’ I say, storming towards the outdoor television. ‘You said the next murder would occur in one hour, but Sophia was already dead, so you lied.’

  ‘Not really,’ says the Judge, his image still on screen. ‘If you’d listened carefully, you’d have noticed that I said, “you have one hour to find out who killed Jack Peaks, or you’ll find another of your number dead”, but I take on board your feedback and I will be clearer for the next time. Sophia Dance is the second victim of the villa. Kimberley, you have one hour until the next death. Better start taking this more seriously.’

  Pop.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Sunday 27th July, 13:00

  1 Hour And 0 Minutes Until The Next Murder

  The screen goes blank and I react in the only way I know how. I run away, dashing towards the perimeter wall of the villa.

  ‘Let me out,’ I scream at the top of my lungs. ‘Free us.’

  ‘Kim,’ calls Daniel. I glance over my shoulder to see him running up behind me. ‘Kim, wait.’

  ‘Leave me alone. Please, I can’t. I can’t do this,’ I shout, waving a hand to him. My chest is so tight, I can’t catch my breath. I reach the perimeter wall of the villa, push my way through the hedge, and slam my body against the smooth concrete. ‘Let me out,’ I cry, beating my fists into the hard exterior.

  ‘Kim, calm down, let’s talk about this.’ He grabs hold of my hand and pulls me to a stop. I don’t turn to face him but lean my body away, pressing my forehead against the wall.

  ‘Stop it,’ I say, wiping tears from my face with my free hand. ‘I don’t want your stupid camera in my face.’

  ‘I’ve turned it off. Come on, talk to me. We need to talk about this.’ I twist to look at him. He unclips the camera from its bracket and places it gently on the floor. ‘Come here,’ he says, opening his arms out wide. And in contrast to every modicum of police professionalism I once had, I fold myself into him. His muscular arms wrap around me and squeeze me tight against his chest. His beating heart drums against my ear. His warmth envelops me, comforting me. The tears flow freely now, dampening his shirt, but he doesn’t say anything, just pulls me in tighter to himself.

  ‘She’s dead. Sophia is dead. He murdered her. I should have—’

  ‘This isn’t your fault, Kim,’ he murmurs, rubbing my back with his hand.

  ‘You’re wrong. Everything about this is my fault.’ Without warning, a face flashes into my mind; she’s linked to this somehow, she’s the reason I’m here. After all these years, I’m still not free from it. His fingers grip my arms and he pulls me away from him, so our faces are close to one another’s. My eyes scan his face. On anyone else the thickset eyebrows and broad jaw might make them look imposing but Daniel’s face is soft and kind. His dark eyes stare into mine.

  ‘This isn’t your fault. And you can do this.’ His fingers squeeze into my arms more tightly. ‘I don’t want to die here, Kim. I need you to save me. I have faith in you.’

  My eyes fill again with tears. How can he have faith in me? I’ve done nothing to warrant that.

  ‘How can you say that? You don’t even know me. You have no idea what I’m capable of,’ I say. He pulls me in closer.

  ‘I trust you. You’re smart, caring… beautiful,’ he whispers. The adrenaline coursing through my body seems to surge, propelling me forward. And without warning, without logic, I press my lips against his and kiss him. A deep, long kiss.

  Then, as if electrocuted, I jerk backwards. What the fuck am I doing?

  ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done—’

  ‘Don’t,’ says Daniel, holding up a hand. ‘Don’t apologise. I wanted to kiss you since the moment you entered the kitchen last night. And, though I know you’re only kissing me because you’re frantic and pumped with adrenaline, let me at least pretend it’s because you fancy me too.’

  I gurgle a laugh and he wipes away my tears with his fingers. I might have only kissed him because I’m frantic, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t also wanted to do it since yesterday. ‘Do you really think this is solvable?’ I ask.

  He shrugs and pulls me back into a hug. ‘OK, if I’m honest, probably not. But you can give it a damn good try.’ I sniff and nod my head. I can’t give up now. There are people here who need my help.

  ‘Get your camera,’ I say. ‘And follow me.’

  Daniel walks behind me as I head back to where the others are still hovering over Sophia’s body.

  ‘Mo, please could you carry Sophia’s body to the freezer? Place her next to Jack.’

  He nods and slides his hands underneath her tiny, broken body.

  ‘Valentina,’ I say. The DJ twists to look at me. ‘Please can I talk to you next?’ To say she doesn’t look happy about it would be an understatement.

  ‘What? Why do you want to talk to me next? I don’t have anything to do with this?’ She is staring at me incredulously. ‘Sophia was about my size, there is no way I have the strength to push her over the balcony.’

  ‘Come with me please,’ I say. ‘And stop complaining, I’ll be speaking to everyone, so I might as well talk to you now.’

  Valentina opens her mouth to say something but shuts it again. If she was going to argue more she clearly decides it isn’t worth doing in front of the others. She huffs loudly and charges into the house ahead of me. Valentina is a lot more petulant than her shy persona sometimes portrays.

  ‘Come on,’ I say to Daniel and together we head into the house.

  Valentina must have seen the wall of suspects with her own face staring out at her as she entered the living room, but she is pointedly refusing to look at the wall and has instead taken a position on the couch that looks into the room, away from the photographs, the glass wall, and the garden. I sit opposite her and for a moment neither of us speak; the silence between us is broken only by the hum of the air conditioner. Every now and then she glances to Daniel, who lurks in the corner, the red light on his camera now flickering.

  Her eyes are puffy, still smeared in make-up. Her lips are downturned like they’ve been dragged downwards by her feelings.

  ‘Last night, you told me how much you hate this show and how you don’t think you’re a good fit for it,’ I say, cutting right to the chase. There’s no time for pleasantries now that the Judge has made it clear how serious he is. ‘So, tell me, why do you think you were chosen?’ Valentina’s face falls at my question.

  ‘Why I was chosen?’ she asks as if only now realising this for the first time. ‘But I thought it was…’

  ‘Random?’ I say, finishing her sentence. ‘No, I don’t think anything about this is random.’

  Her shoulders sag and under her breath she whispers something in Russian.

  ‘What?’ I press. ‘What is it? Why do you think you were chosen?’

  ‘I…’ She shakes her head as if shaking away the thought that rises in her. ‘I… I don’t know,’ she says, lamely.

  ‘So, you hate the show and you don’t know why you were chosen. But if your selection came as a surprise and you hate it as much as you say, why on earth did you agree to it? We weren’t forced to be here; we were given a choice.’

  ‘Why did I say yes to come?’ She gives a bark of laughter and shakes her head at me. ‘This is a question I’ve asked myself from the moment I say yes. My friends, they are cool people, they don’t understand why I said yes. They kept using the word “sell-out”. The logical part
of me doesn’t know why I accepted either. I remember I was making myself a cup of coffee early on a Monday morning. Well, early for me; it was probably about lunchtime. Then the doorbell rang, it was the scout Sam Day, that’s what he was called. When he told me I had been chosen, I didn’t feel anything. I had seen the news that the show was returning, and people would be chosen at random but the thought that I would be chosen never even crossed my mind. LoveWrecked is so… not me.’ She pauses. ‘No, I tell a lie. When I listen to Sam, I did feel something. I feel my heart, how you say in English, sinking.’

  ‘Your heart sank? Why?’

  ‘Because as soon as he told me I had been chosen I wanted to slam the door and never think about it again. But I knew there was no way I could turn down such an opportunity. Not if I am serious about being a DJ. LoveWrecked has millions of viewers. So yes, I have a choice but not really. It was important for my career. Good exposure.’

  No choice but to accept, I write on my paper. Valentina felt as if she had no choice. The words ring true for me. I too could have rejected the offer, but the lure of the prize money was strong for me.

  ‘When we were in the kitchen, Jack came over to us and he wasn’t exactly friendly. I remember you storming off. But I heard also that you and Jack argued again. What were you arguing about?’

  ‘How do you—’

  ‘Valentina, it doesn’t matter how I know. We don’t have time for this. What were you arguing about?’

  Valentina looks me up and down as if weighing up how trustworthy I am. ‘He asked me for drugs.’

  ‘So what? He asked you for drugs when I was standing there too.’

  ‘So, I don’t do that any more,’ she snaps. ‘And because I’m DJ, he made the shitty assumption that I do. That I’d have drugs with me, but I don’t. The only drugs I have with me are the ones I take daily for medical reasons.’

  ‘That made you so angry you slapped him? From what I’ve seen of your personality so far that seems a little out of character,’ I prompt.

  ‘I am shy, yes, but I am also tough. Working in a nightclub isn’t always easy; I’ve learned how to defend myself. Last night, Jack was drunk. And pushy. And he, he…’ She looks at her hands clasped tightly in her lap. ‘He talked like he knew stuff. Stuff about me. And before you ask, stuff not relevant to this place.’ Her Russian accent, usually light and almost unnoticeable, gets stronger as she becomes noticeably more upset.

  ‘He talked like he knew something about you? What could he know about you? What have you done?’

  Valentina’s eyes widen. I can practically see the cogs whirring in her brain as she decides how best to play this.

  ‘I have done nothing. Nothing wrong. Not exactly. But we all have a past, don’t we?’

  ‘So, I take that to mean you have a past you’d rather we not know about?’

  ‘You can take it however you want to.’ The DJ purses her lips and juts her chin upwards. She is closing ranks; the questioning has taken a route she didn’t expect.

  I pick up my pen and made a note: purposefully evasive when asked about her past. Valentina isn’t fooling anyone and certainly not me.

  ‘It would be really helpful if you told me a bit more about it.’

  ‘Why? It doesn’t have anything to do with the death of that man. It is my business. I have a past, you have a past, but it doesn’t make me a murderer. I didn’t kill him.’ I raise my eyebrow; Valentina’s tone is vicious like a lioness protecting her cubs. ‘I’m sorry,’ she says, more softly now. ‘I don’t mean to snap at you, this is all very stressful.’

  I laugh hollowly. You’re telling me?

  ‘I think,’ she says, ‘I think you should speak to Carly. Her and Jack have a – how do you say it – exchange last night.’

  ‘Exchange?’

  ‘Yes. I noticed. Jack said something to her. That it had been a long time since he last saw her, and she looked different now. Carly’s face went all pale and she told him to shut up.’

  My body flutters; I remember this too. Goodness, Jack Peaks was a busy bee last night, upsetting people left, right and centre.

  ‘Can I go now?’ asks Valentina.

  ‘Huh?’ I say, lost in thought. Valentina tuts and gets up. ‘No, wait,’ I say, remembering something. ‘Just one more question.’

  Valentina sighs and flops back down onto the seat. The cushion beneath her lets out a deep exhale as the air is pushed from it, mimicking Valentina’s own exhale.

  ‘Did you know Jack or Sophia before you entered the villa?’

  ‘No,’ says Valentina sharply.

  ‘Did you know Mo?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But you and he seem very close. For people who have just met.’

  Valentina eyes me suspiciously. ‘He and I have much in common. He understands me. Can I go now?’

  I make a note. ‘For now. Please send Carly in to me.’

  Valentina jumps to her feet and saunters off. Well, this at least confirms the theory that Sophia was spreading secrets. Valentina Novak clearly has a secret. But is it a secret so bad she would kill to protect it?

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Sunday 27th July, 13:25

  35 Minutes Until The Next Murder

  Carly and I sit opposite each other in the living room. I perch on one end of the couch, Carly on the opposite side to me. Carly crosses her slim legs underneath her and rests her clasped hands in her lap.

  Carly sits perfectly straight, her back rigid, her chin pointing towards me. Her slender frame manages to be both powerful and fragile at the same time. She’s like an assassin lying in wait for her victim.

  ‘Thank you for agreeing to chat with me,’ I say. It’s uncharacteristically conciliatory of me but I’m trying not to be unnerved by the poise of my interviewee. Carly’s only response is a slow blink.

  So, as expected, she’s not going to go easy on me.

  ‘Could you please tell me a bit about yourself?’

  Carly purses her lips.

  ‘My name is Carly Chu. I’m twenty-eight years old. I was born in Kent and I now live in London. I’m an actress.’ Her voice is a monotone as she recites her list. ‘But,’ she adds, nodding her head towards the suspect wall. ‘You already know all of this. If you want to know something else, you’ll have to be more specific.’

  When I was a police officer, the lack of cooperability of interviewees, particularly when it was in their own interest to assist an investigation, never ceased to amaze me. Why did people insist on making themselves look guilty?

  It seems that no matter the situation, people will always behave like people, like human beings. Emotional and unpredictable. What can I ask her that will get the conversation flowing? I need to get Carly talking before I zoom in on specifics.

  ‘Why did you apply for LoveWrecked?’ Shit. As soon as the question leaves my lips I realise it was a stupid one. Carly wrinkles her nose and gives me a smirk.

  ‘I didn’t apply,’ she says sarcastically. ‘None of us did.’ Carly folds her arms across her chest and raises an eyebrow. ‘No wonder you’re no longer a police officer. You don’t seem to be very good at your job, do you?’

  I force my face to remain impassive, but I can’t help feeling off-kilter. I’m really out of practice. I’ve shown my interviewee a weakness and I’ve been tripped up on it. I take a deep breath.

  ‘Have you ever applied for LoveWrecked in the past?’

  Carly narrows her eyes. ‘Does it matter?’ she asks.

  I shrug. ‘Have you?’

  ‘Yes,’ replies Carly.

  Again, I keep the emotion from my face. No commiseration, no celebration. ‘So, let me ask you again. Why did you apply for LoveWrecked?’

  It’s Carly’s turn to feel the affront and I’m pleased to see the actress, ironically, is worse at hiding it than me. Carly gives me a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

  ‘Exposure,’ says Carly. ‘I’m an actress. But not a particularly well known one. Being on a show like th
is is good for my career. Should have been good for my career.’ She corrects herself.

  ‘And so, when you were chosen for this year’s season, you didn’t hesitate to accept?’

  ‘Why would I?’ she says. I think back to what Valentina said, about Jack talking like he knew things about her and about the argument she said she witnessed between Jack and Carly.

  ‘There was nothing that you were worried about coming out during your time here? Things you wouldn’t want the others to know.’

  ‘Ha, no,’ says Carly with a bark of laughter. ‘No deep, dark secrets from me, I’m afraid.’

  ‘And did you know any of the other Islanders before entering the villa?’

  ‘No,’ she replies.

  ‘You didn’t know Jack before?’

  ‘I just told you, I didn’t know any of the other Islanders before I got here. We were all chosen at random, remember.’ Carly is starting to sound exasperated.

  ‘And what did you think of Jack?’ I ask, immediately changing tact.

  Carly shrugs. ‘Typical man. But he was pretty full-on with me last night.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Intense. He kept following me around. Whispering in my ear that we should be a couple.’ I notice that Carly gives a little shiver at this, like she can’t quite hide her disgust when remembering Jack’s behaviour.

  ‘And how did that make you feel?’ I ask, leaning into her.

  ‘If you’re asking me if I killed him because he came on too strong then you’re barking up the wrong tree. Jack’s behaviour was nothing I’ve not seen before.’ Carly laughs. ‘Seriously, Kim, if I killed every man who had come on too strong, there’d be dead men all over London.’

  I raise my eyebrow and ask, ‘Are there dead men all over London?’

  Carly’s mouth falls open into a small O. She looks incredulous at the question, but I won’t apologise for it. Joke or not, I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t at least ask.