Chapter Fifty Holly
Chapter Fifty
HOLLY
In the cool of the cabana, we stare at the open birthday invitation.
‘Canapés, cocktails,’ reads Fitzwilliam.
‘I notice they don’t mention dinner,’ I say ruefully, swiping along the paper slowly with a chemical reagent.
‘There’s an event at midnight,’ Fitzwilliam points out. ‘Midnight feast maybe?’
‘Truth or Dare Firepit at the Old Bell Tower.’ I read.
‘Sounds … ominous. Where’s the Old Bell Tower?
’ I ask. ‘I didn’t see it on any maps of the island.
’ I look closer. ‘The reagent is reacting with something here,’ I add.
‘It’s faint but …’ I fish a hand lens from my kit and adjust the focus.
‘It’s making the shape of a number. Six …
’ I peer through the lens. ‘Six ft under.’ I raise my gaze to Fitzwilliam.
‘Why would Simone write “six feet under”?’
‘Sounds like the kind of thing you said she did on her show, right?’ says Fitzwilliam. ‘Showy forensic reveal that leads to the next location.’
I nod. ‘Highlighting some important clue to show up on camera in a forensic test. Made for good entertainment. Real evidence mixed with stagey effects.’
‘You think Simone wanted to draw attention to this Bell Tower event? Suggest it was … death-related?’
‘Maybe. We can assume the party guests were there at midnight, the night Adrianna was kidnapped. What time did she go missing?’
‘She was last seen at three a.m.,’ says Fitzwilliam. ‘Petra Morka saw Adrianna going up the stairs to her bedroom, but no one noticed she was gone until the following morning.’
‘Wonder where the Bell Tower is,’ I say.
‘The bridesmaids are due to attend a beach barbecue tonight at the bar. You think you might convince one of them to tell you?’
I wrinkle my nose. ‘I can try,’ I say, without much conviction. ‘I think they know I’m not one of them.’
‘You should have more faith in yourself,’ says Fitzwilliam. ‘Simone did. And … maybe don’t hunch your shoulders so much. It makes you look unsure of yourself.’
‘Thanks for the deportment tip.’
Fitzwilliam nods, looking thoughtful. ‘Not all the luggage has been delivered to the cabanas. If you’re all down at the barbecue, I can take a look through for Silky’s sketchbook.
Could tell us something more about this Trinity character.
Maybe one of the staff can help locate it,’ he adds.
‘If they’re not all busy trying to stop the bridesmaids freaking out about what to wear for tonight’s event. ’
I roll my eyes. ‘What’s wrong with these women? They can go two days without eating, but lose their shit over some clothes?’
Fitzwilliam’s face breaks into a wide smile. ‘Well, quite,’ he says. His eyes land on a large bouquet of tropical flowers on the table of my cabana.
‘Here,’ he plucks up a white orchid, and pushes it behind my ear. ‘Softens your hair a little,’ he explains.
I touch the flower uncertainly. His eyes hover over mine for slightly too long. Before I can reply, he clears his throat uncomfortably.
‘You need to get to the barbecue before you’re missed,’ he says. ‘I’ll go hunt for Silky’s sketchbook while you’re eating.’
We open the door to leave my cabana and see balls of fire in the middle distance, toward where the cliff meets the sea behind the house.
‘I’m guessing your beach barbecue is there?’ Fitzwilliam points to a bluff where torches flare. ‘You’re hungry, right?’
‘I’ve kind of gone beyond hunger,’ I tell him. ‘Does that mean I’m a real Kensington now?’
He smiles. ‘Don’t you need food?’
‘I grew up in formal situations, remember? You’d be surprised at how used to being hungry that makes you. Anyway, I’m sure they have provision for staff. Probably more than what you’ll be getting.’
I take in the view from the beach hut veranda. The sun has split to the barest slice of pink along the black horizon. A thumbstroke of light, throwing peachy shades on the scatter of clouds above. Darkening jungle paints black leaf shapes at the edges of a navy sky.
‘I’ve just got to hope it’s not plastic photoshoot food.’