14. Captain’s Opera #2
“Thank you – sorry for disturbing you. I just got a bit overwhelmed,” she said, not liking to appear so vulnerable.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll give you some space,” he said thoughtfully, picking up a crate and disappearing behind a lush floral wall she hadn’t noticed concealed a passageway.
It dawned on her that the Midas likely had many hidden routes to keep the staff’s movements discreet.
She couldn’t imagine how many secret passages there were in the ship or how easy it would be to disappear if you knew your way.
How easy it would be for someone to conceal their movements or disappear in an instant!
She shook away the paranoia. Joshua wasn’t sneaking around the ship’s passageways. He wasn’t some criminal mastermind.
With the quiet echo of the performance behind her, her senses started to level out again.
She didn’t know why imagining Joshua’s face had triggered such a strong reaction.
Maybe it was a combination of the opera’s themes of betrayal and the music.
Either way, she made no plans to return to her seat.
“What happened? One minute you were there, and the next you were gone. Are you feeling okay?” Isaiah asked, appearing and looking her over with worried eyes.
She wrapped her arms around him as he stood close, needing his steady presence. The steady beat of his heart settled her own.
“I thought I saw someone, and it unsettled me,” Poppy admitted, releasing him. “My demons are chasing me.” She tried to make light of her reaction, but she could see the concern in his eyes.
“Demons?” Isaiah took a seat beside her. “If there’s something you need to get off your chest, then I’m here for you without judgement,” he said, taking her hand in his own.
But there was a strange coolness in his tone, and she took back her hand. It sounded like he was looking for a confession, not to comfort her.Suddenly, she didn’t feel so safe. Where had the switch in his attitude come from?
“Is there something you want to ask me?” she asked, leaning back on the barstool. “It sounds like there’s something you want to get off your chest.”
“I don’t want to do this here,” Isaiah said evasively.
“Do what?”
He looked guilty, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
“You’re starting to scare me,” Poppy said, worrying that she had made a mistake trusting him. He pulled an envelope out of his pocket. “What is this?”
“Open it,” he said, glancing around to ensure no one else was listening.
She did as instructed. Background files on one, two, three individuals. It hit her. Isaiah wasn’t here by chance; he was here to investigate her.
“Where did you get these?” she asked, looking at the payment transfers, photos, and crime scene photos for three people who had meant very little to her.
“Eckells faxed them over,” Isaiah admitted. “I was investigating their deaths before we boarded, and I had him help me dig for details into the victims. I wanted to see if he could find anything my colleagues might have missed.”
Poppy flipped through the pages.“That’s why you went to reception the other night to pick this up.” He’d been willing to leave her alone that night because he didn’t want her to know about the investigation.
“All three of the victims worked for you and your aunt for long periods,” Isaiah said, shoving the crime scene photos towards her. Gruesome crime scene photos.
“So? A lot of people worked for me and my aunt. Why are you showing me these?” Poppy snapped, turning over the images.
“But for three to end up dead in a matter of months is a big coincidence, don’t you think? Very interesting,” he said.
By ‘interesting’, she guessed he really meant ‘suspicious’. Poppy clenched her teeth, feeling like a fool for trusting him. “This whole time, you’ve been trying to get me to trust you only because you think I’m some serial killer? Trying to get close to me in hopes of what? That I confess?”
“Your driver, your maid, and your choreographer. All were killed within months of each other –and then, in the fourth month, your aunt. Fifth, Patrice. People close to you end up dead.” His voice was steely cold, and she knew she was talking to the detective and not her bodyguard.
“Is this why you accepted the bodyguard job? Because you’re investigating me?
You thought you could earn my trust and learn all my dirty little secrets?
” Poppy demanded, her voice tinged with betrayal.
“I don’t even know why I’m surprised. I should have known you were after something; there’s always something. ”
“Yes, I took the job because of the investigation. I have a duty of care to the victims. Whether or not you were involved remains to be seen, and there were two conclusions: you were involved in the murders, or someone is killing off those around you. I knew either you were a danger or were in danger,” Isaiah said.
“So either I’m a killer, or someone is out to kill me? Quite the dilemma, not knowing if you need to protect me or others from me.” He’d been after her from the start.
“It’s my job to consider all possibilities, and it wasn’t long before Patrice was killed – after you told me about your plans for Joshua.”
Poppy seethed. “Joshua was only in a self-defence scenario. Patrice? I was with you when she was killed, so you can’t throw either of those in my face! Why did you bring these with you today?”
“I didn’t intend to, but considering your habit of going through people’s belongings, I was being proactive.”
“How could I go through your things while we’re together?!”
“Mina. If she was willing to help you get rid of Joshua, then she’d have no problem helping you with something as trivial as searching my things,” Isaiah said.
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re paranoid?” She didn’t admit to already having checked his belongings when he was in the shower.
“Yes, but I’ve always had good reason to be,” Isaiah said. “If you had nothing to do with these three victims, then perhaps you can give me more insight into their lives.”
“If I did, you wouldn’t care so much about finding the killer,” Poppy muttered.“If you know the truth about them, then you’d close the case.”
“Sounds like there was no love lost between you.”
“I can say I haven’t lost sleep after hearing about their passing,” Poppy admitted. “Does that make me a monster?”
“I don’t think you’re a monster,” Isaiah said, “I just want the truth. I want to know why bodies keep dropping around you before more die.”
“It’s a good thing you don’t think I’m a monster, because what would that make you, having kissed me? Having wanted me? You thought I was a suspect, yet you couldn’t help but get close to me.” Poppy leaned in. “Do you usually get so close to those you investigate?”
“I’m sorry—”
“For what? Accusing me of murder or kissing me?” she asked, getting off the bar stool to stand between his legs. “For telling me you’d protect me while secretly investigating me?”
Isaiah ran his hands through his hair. Clearly, this conversation wasn’t going the way he hoped. Had he expected that after some flirting and heavy petting, she would roll over and reveal all her secrets, expose her demons? He was a fool.
“I don’t know what happened between you and the victims, but I know that someone is after you. I don’t know if these cases are connected to what’s happening on board, but my gut is telling me you’re hiding something. Tell me, before you or anyone else is hurt.”
Poppy’s heart sank. She hated herself for thinking he was on her side, that he was in her corner. Like everyone else, he had lied and concealed his true desires. She shoved him away as he tipped her chin to meet his gaze. He thought she was a monster, and he was right.
“The only thing I’m telling you is to go back to the suite. I don’t want to look at you right now,” she told him, trying not to let Isaiah see the tears in her eyes.
“Regardless of my investigation, it’s my job to ensure you’re safe.
Even if you can’t trust me and don’t want to confide in me, it’s my job to stop you from getting hurt,” Isaiah said, but she couldn’t trust his words.
Was he only proclaiming to care about her safety to encourage her to reveal her secrets?
“I don’t want to confide in you, because if I told you what you so desperately want to know, you wouldn’t look at me the same way. Just leave me alone,” she snapped, hating how hurt she sounded. How could a man she hardly knew hurt her far more than those she’d known for years?
“I’m not leaving you here, and you aren’t going anywhere without me.”
“What will you do if I try to leave? Arrest me? Oh, that’s right – you can’t. Don’t worry about remaining professional or keeping me safe. I wouldn’t want you to burden yourself with protecting a monster a moment longer.”
“Poppy, I’ve never thought you were a monster—”
She cut him off. “Just a murderer.”
He swallowed.
She backed away, desperate for some space.“You’re fired.”
Isaiah reached for her, but a cacophony of screams broke out behind them.
The theatre door was thrown open. Guests came rushing out, some crying while others looked ashen, just focusing on escape.
The crowd separated Poppy and Isaiah. Her gut told her to run in the opposite direction of whatever had terrorised the audience.
Still, the timing – thinking she saw Joshua, the captain being pulled away before the performance – she had to see with her own eyes.
“What happened?” she asked, stopping Scott as he tried to get past her.
“We thought it was part of the final act, but the actors started screaming. The blood – I think she’s dead!” Scott shoved past her, turning a shade of green.
“Who’s dead?” Poppy asked another guest, who ignored her.
She’d lost sight of Isaiah, but she didn’t have time to think about him, not when there was another potential murder.
There was only so much time before security arrived and sealed off the scene, and the captain covered up another murder.
Poppy struggled through the crowd and climbed the stairs to the stage, already empty of actors.
A limp body sat on a throne wearing a porcelain mask.
Poppy could see a trickle of blood still flowing from beneath the gold collar, coating the front of the cream toga identical to the ones the other dancers had been wearing.
She lifted the collar, only to drop it quickly when blood spurted out.
An artery had been pierced by something sharp.
She left the collar where it was to try and slow the bleeding.
Steadying her nerves, she placed her hand on the woman’s wrist to check for a pulse. It was there but faint. Hoping to help the poor dancer breathe, Poppy pulled off her mask.
She gasped, dropping to her knees. Calliope sat on the throne, her eyes staring into Poppy’s, searching, pleading for her help.
“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Poppy panted, holding her hand. “Help! She’s still alive!” she screamed, but with so much chaos, no one was paying attention.
Calliope squeezed her hand painfully, but she couldn’t speak. The terror in her eyes told Poppy she wanted to say something, but her mouth wobbled and closed again.
“Save your energy. Help is coming! Isaiah! ” Poppy yelled. With the amount of blood Calliope had lost, she wouldn’t have long.
She expected Isaiah to appear by her side and pull her away for her safety, but there was no sign of him. He might have gone to get security to help everyone get out without being trampled.
“Where the hell is security?” Poppy muttered, feeling Calliope’s pulse slow. Her grip on Poppy softened. “Calliope, just hold on. You’re going to be okay.”
But Calliope shook her head ever so slightly, and tears trickled down her cheeks. They both knew her fate was inevitable.
“You’re not alone. I’m right here with you,” Poppy said, offering her some peace at the end.
She barely got the last word out before the light left Calliope’s eyes.
Poppy fell back on her feet, a surge of hot adrenaline flashing up her spine. Unable to take her eyes away, she didn’t know if she was going to throw up or pass out. Her mind raced with endless questions.
She didn’t even realise she was still holding Calliope’s hand until she was shoved away by the sudden arrival of the medics. They didn’t work on her long before calling it, and Poppy knew they were asking her questions, but all she could focus on was Calliope’s drained expression.
The medics covered the body with a sheet, but it didn’t quite cover her hand.
Poppy went to adjust the sheet, only to notice something clenched in Calliope’s freshly manicured fingers.
Glancing around, Poppy freed the crumpled-up paper in her fist. Then, ignored by the medics, she went to the stairs at the edge of the stage to escape the mess and give the better-late-than-never security team space.
Where the hell is Isaiah? she asked herself, searching the theatre. Some curious guests lingered; others arrived to see what the commotion was about. Vultures.
Poppy hung her head. They’d lost the chance to find out more about Patrice’s murder, but the tape had revealed Calliope wasn’t working alone, which meant she wasn’t the mastermind but another puppet.
She waited for Isaiah, unable to decide whether she should read the crumpled note.
Even if she felt betrayed by him, she needed to know what he thought about this latest development.
The hairs on her neck stood up suddenly. Poppy looked up.
As clear as day, Joshua stood by the door. The light streaming in from the foyer made him look ghostly, but it was him. He was no mirage or hallucination.
Poppy struggled to her feet, her legs still numb from the adrenaline rush.
She started down the steps, ignoring the members of security she passed who urged her to stay.
She had to get out of there before they detained her.
She didn’t want them to learn about the note, and she didn’t want Joshua to escape.