Chapter 65
Olivia joins Emil, who is making dinner in the kitchen. Pontus scowls at her when she walks past the sofa, but he doesn’t speak. His glass is almost empty; Olivia can smell gin on the air.
There is no sign of Amir or William, thank goodness. After today she would prefer to avoid their company.
“Hi,” she says to Emil. “What’s on the menu tonight?”
“Pork tenderloin with oven-baked potato wedges and a red wine sauce. It’s almost ready.”
The smell of rosemary reaches Olivia’s nostrils as Emil opens the oven door a fraction to check on the meat. It looks delicious, and in spite of everything, she is hungry; her stomach is rumbling.
The relief that Emil is here makes her feel calmer. Without him she couldn’t bear to stay, whatever the police say.
Emil is kind.
Unlike those other idiots.
“You’re amazing,” she says. “I couldn’t have coped with cooking.”
Emil reaches for a red-checked kitchen towel and wipes his hands.
“We have to eat. Would you like a glass of wine?”
Would she?
Olivia glances over at Pontus. It’s so annoying that he’s getting drunk again. Maybe she ought to stay sober, to be on the safe side.
She can’t really explain why. The worst thing possible has already happened.
Filippa is dead.
While she is pondering, Emil has opened a bottle of red and poured them each a glass. He passes one to Olivia, and she takes a sip.
It is delicious, and she relaxes. Takes another sip. It has been a dreadful day. And then the police showed up with more questions . . . She can’t stop thinking about the revelation that Filippa had had sex with one of the boys before she died.
It can only be Amir. Especially if she was both drunk and high.
She turns back to Emil. “Did you speak to the police when they were here? What did they ask you?”
He opens a drawer, takes out two wooden serving spoons.
“I’m not sure,” he says over his shoulder. “There were a lot of questions about the atmosphere on Saturday evening. The same things they asked about on Sunday, really. Whether Filippa had argued with any of us, if there had been any kind of falling out within the group.”
“And what did you say?”
“I just told the truth—that I was the first to go to bed, and nothing happened while I was still there.”
Olivia moves a little closer to Emil. He has begun to slice a head of lettuce and put it in a bowl.
“Did you hear that the police know Filippa had sex on the evening before she died?” she says quietly.
“And that they think it’s connected to her death?
” She glances around to make sure that Pontus isn’t eavesdropping.
“It must have been Amir, don’t you agree?
I was right all along, even though no one believed me. ”
Her words make Emil put down the knife. He looks worried. “That’s a very serious accusation, Olivia. Do you really think Amir is involved in Filippa’s death?”
Olivia remembers how frightened she was this afternoon. When the darkness came down and she was all alone. When she didn’t know if she would be able to get out of the ravine under her own steam.
Amir didn’t give a shit about her. She could have frozen to death and he wouldn’t have lifted a finger.
Then again, the others didn’t bother either. Even William didn’t come back to look for her. But he would never have left her there, he would have raised the alarm if she hadn’t shown up eventually.
So would Pontus—at least, she would like to think so.
It is only Amir who seems completely ice cold.
He is the only one who cares about no one but himself.