Chapter 60
AMBER
‘But that’s impossible!’ I jump up and begin to pace. ‘I’ve never even been near—’ I stop, because I do remember the feel of Athena’s cold cheek, the faint dusting of marble powder on my fingertips. ‘Oh my God.’
Demetriou says nothing, just takes his pen and taps it on the desk, waiting for me to dig myself in deeper.
‘I touched it when I went to the bathroom the first night we arrived,’ I blurt.
‘I don’t know why. I was walking down the hallway past all the gods and goddesses and it was like being in those rooms full of all the Greek stuff in the British Museum, you know?
Only there you’re not allowed to touch, and here you are, so I did.
But… but that doesn’t mean I killed Felix!
’ I sink back onto the sofa, folding in on myself.
‘I didn’t say you did. I’m just saying your prints were on the murder weapon.’ He lays the pen diagonally on his notebook at a perfect forty-five-degree angle. ‘But you understand the difficulty this creates for us, especially as it now appears you have an independent alibi.’
‘What?’ I say dully, not even bothering to look up.
‘A fisherman has reported seeing you asleep on the beach the night Mr Pearson was killed.’
It takes a moment for his words to sink in, but when they do the relief is dizzying. ‘See? I told you I was telling the truth!’
Demetriou plays with his cuff. ‘He is a credible witness, according to Sergeant Griva, and he places you on the beach shortly before the estimated time of death. But you are not off the hook, Miss Miller. Far from it.’
* * *
Eventually, Demetriou says I can go, albeit with strict instructions not to leave the villa. The others are on the terrace, but before they invite me to join them I head upstairs, wanting time alone to think.
My head is spinning with the detective’s revelations.
First and foremost, the fact that my prints are all over the murder weapon.
I wasn’t lying when I told him I’d touched the bust of Athena that first night at Villa Paradiso, but I can hear how improbable it must sound, especially to a man who deals with liars and cheats every day of the week.
I wonder how close he was to slapping handcuffs on my wrists and arresting me for murder.
The fact that he didn’t, because I suddenly have a credible alibi, blows my mind. Thank God for Greek fishermen. But I don’t need Demetriou to tell me I’m not off the hook yet.
My phone pings with a text and I snatch it up, glad of the distraction.
It’s Nessa.
Have you heard from HR yet? X
Nope, I’m about to type, but then I pause. I need to know the outcome of the investigation into Rob Harvey’s sexual assault. If my complaint has been upheld it’ll show Demetriou I’m not in the habit of making things up. It might help him believe my story.
Besides, it’s time I stopped running.
Heart thudding, I open the email.
Subject: Outcome of Investigation – Confidential
Dear Ms Miller,
Following a full investigation into your allegations concerning Mr Robert Harvey, I can confirm that the investigation has now concluded.
The investigating panel interviewed all relevant parties, including yourself, Mr Harvey and a number of current and former employees. Having reviewed the available evidence, the panel found there to be insufficient evidence to substantiate your claims.
As such, your complaint has not been upheld and no disciplinary action will be taken against Mr Harvey.
We recognise that this will be disappointing to hear, and we would like to thank you for your cooperation throughout the process. Any further concerns should be raised through the appropriate channels.
Kind regards,
Sandra Cooper
Head of Human Resources
Cavity Wall Solutions
For a moment I just stare at the screen, my stomach clenching as phrases leap out at me.
Insufficient evidence… Not upheld… No disciplinary action.
I read the email again, hoping for… for what?
That the words are going to magically rearrange themselves into a formal indictment, recording Rob’s guilt in black and white?
They don’t, of course. That predatory, manipulative son of a bitch has got off scot-free and I’m the liar.
The phone slides from my hand onto the covers as I rage at the unfairness of it all.
So much for calling out bad behaviour. I should never have let Nessa talk me into reporting the assault.
They were always going to take Rob’s word over mine.
I’d have been better off resigning, because now I’ll just be labelled a troublemaker, and Rob has essentially been given permission to carry on behaving exactly as before, letching over anything in a skirt.
The irony isn’t lost on me. Back home I’ve been punished for speaking up; here, I’m being accused of fighting back.