Chapter 25. Does Gathering All of the Suspects in a Library Ever Work in Real Life?
Does Gathering All of the Suspects in a Library Ever Work in Real Life?
“What are we all doing here?” Sandrine asks. She’s wearing a wrap dress that yokes around her slim neck and drapes perfectly across her body.
Even in the midst of a murder investigation, I can be jealous.
We’re in the resort’s library, because of course we are.
This is where we’ve come to solve the mystery.
If you’re imagining something ritzy, you haven’t been paying attention.
The shelves look like they came from IKEA (is there IKEA in the Bahamas?
—you look it up, I’m busy), and the books are all dog-eared and twenty years old.
There’s a whole row of Elizabeth’s titles next to Shek’s series, and the usual scattering of P.
D. James, Agatha, and Edwardian romances.
Why does everyone want to read about murder and mayhem on vacation?
A question I might try to answer if I get out of here alive.
Because maybe this is our version of And Then There Were None, and someone’s got a long list of potential kills that they’re working their way through.
So I’m on the list, but I’m not the list.
But they wanted me to think I was, because why else would they have sent me that note at the beginning of it all? Why else would all of these people who hate me be here?
There’s only one way to find out.
I hold up Harper’s journal, which I’ve decided to use because it’s more dramatic than bringing the laptop. “Guy left some notes.”
“What?” Ravi says, while I avoid looking at Connor.
He knows about the USB drive.
I’m hoping he doesn’t interfere with the method to my madness.
In fact, I’m betting on it.
“Yep,” I say, looking around the room—Sandrine, Oliver, Connor, Crazy Cathy, Stefano, Ravi. Officer Rolle is in the corner, watching over the proceedings. “There are a couple of facts you should all know.”
“Such as?” Sandrine says with a sneer. Her dress is a shade of red associated with scarlet letters.
I’m not surprised. Betrayal is her thing.
“Guy brought us here to expose the owners.”
I quiet down the cacophony of voices that erupts after that statement, then explain Guy’s plot, without saying how stupid it was.
It’s implied, though.
And the scowl on Connor’s face says it all. Even though I’ve left him out of it for now, he’s not pleased. When is he ever?
“We were pawns,” Sandrine says. She’s got a headband keeping her thick hair off her face, and less makeup than usual. It’s the first time I’ve ever thought she looked her age.76, 77
“I’m not sure. And so glad you brought that up,” I say, opening Harper’s journal to a page near the end. “You were in touch with Guy, weren’t you?”
“Yes, but not…” She frowns.
“Not what?”
“We weren’t friends. He was looking to write a book, and he needed someone to help him. To ghostwrite it, if you will.”
“What proof do we have of that?”
“Ask Harper.” Sandrine nods toward the chaise where Harper’s sitting. “She knows. She’s the one who gave me the idea in the first place.”
“How?” I ask as Harper makes a slashing motion at her throat.
Sandrine ignores her. “Because she’s been ghosting for a while now.”
I knew it.
“Is that true, Harper?”
She looks down. “Yeah.”
“Who have you been writing for?”
“I can’t say.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s in my contract. I’ll get in trouble if I tell.”
“Is it Connor?” I say with resignation.
“I’ll have you know that I’ve written every word of my novels myself,” Connor says indignantly.
“Is it someone here? You can say that, at least.”
Her left eye twitches, and I know the answer is yes. “Stop asking me. I can’t tell you. And it’s not relevant to what’s happening.”
“How do we know that?”
“You’ll have to trust me,” she says and makes a moving on gesture with her hand. “Why are we here again?”
“Oh, right. Guy’s book.” I tap the journal, hoping to instill fear in someone in the room. Instead, they’re all looking at me like I’m insane.
“Let’s go through the revelations one by one, shall we?”
Sandrine laughs. “You’d think you’d be better at this by now.”
“Thanks for volunteering to go first. We know Guy was involved with what’s happening. He mentions having an accomplice who he strongly hints is female. It’s you, isn’t it?”
“It isn’t.”
“But how do you even know him … Wait … wait … He’s Canadian. You’re Canadian. Marta lived in Canada … That’s the connection, isn’t it?”
Sandrine rolls her eyes. “Not all Canadians know one another, El. Franchement.”
“You were always telling me, though, how Canada is like a village. One degree of separation, you always said.”
“I did not know Marta.”
“And Guy?”
“I met him because of you. Conferences like this.” She waves her hand around.
“Connor?” I ask. “Is she telling the truth?”
“Sandrine was not involved in the decision to come here. Not that Guy told me, anyway.”
“Which is not an answer to the question I asked but is an answer.”
“You’re wrong, Eleanor,” Connor says.
“Am I? Maybe I’m not the target, and you are. Did you think about that?”
“Who am I supposed to have killed?” Sandrine says. “The man who died before we got here?”
“His name was Brian,” I say.
“How am I supposed to have done that?”
Oliver clears his throat. “We don’t actually know when you arrived. You weren’t on our plane or transport from the airport.”
“That’s right,” I say. “She wasn’t. Neither was Ravi, nor most of the rest of you. Only Elizabeth was. When did you get here?”
“The night before,” Officer Rolle offers. “They came in on the afternoon flight on Thursday.”
“So you were here when Brian was killed.”
“I couldn’t even pick him out of a lineup,” Sandrine says. “And why would I kill him? You’re not making any sense, Eleanor.”
“Guy wanted him eliminated for some reason.”
“That’s convincing. And what about Guy, am I supposed to have killed him? How?”
“He was poisoned just like Shek was.”
Ravi gasps. “Pardon me?”
“The same device was used to kill both of them.”
“What are you implying?” Ravi asks.
“It would be a good way to get revenge. Killing someone who had a hand in your brother’s death in the same way?”
“Now I’m supposed to have killed someone?”
“Guy was in contact with you,” I bluff, patting the notebook again.
“So?”
“Why?”
“He reached out to express sympathy for my brother’s death.”
“Is that all?”
“He told me he had some information about Shek.”
“What kind of information?”
“That’s private.”
I tap the notebook again, then open it, flipping through the pages like the answer might be within. “He told you Shek was involved in the plot in Italy, didn’t he?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ravi says.
“The police already suspect him.”
“So?”
“You can come clean. You can’t hurt him anymore.”
“I have his legacy to protect.”
“A legacy of being involved in a conspiracy that killed three people?”
Ravi raises his chin in defiance. “You have no proof of that.”
“Oh, but I do. Oliver and I found it when we were in Italy. And the police have it. It will all come out at the trial.”
“But Guy…”
“Promised it wouldn’t? Did he tell you there wasn’t going to be a trial? Was he … was he blackmailing you?”
Ravi’s teeth click shut. He takes a beat, then speaks slowly. “Whyever would I admit to that?”
“Because, in case you missed it, people are dying.”
“Tell us, Mr. Botha,” Officer Rolle says. “It would be best.”
He lets out a long, slow sigh. “Okay, fine, yes, he was.”
“How?”
“He had messages between my brother and him … compromising messages … He said if I didn’t pay, then he’d make sure that they found their way to the authorities.”
“How did you pay him?”
He gives me a grim smile. “He is getting a percentage of book sales. And I was to help him get a book deal for whatever that is.” He points to the journal. “Said he learned from the best.”
“Connor.”
“Yes?” Connor says.
“It was a statement, not a question.” I bite the inside of my cheek. “Did you kill him?”
“What? No.”
“A lot of people kill their blackmailers.”
“I am not a criminal. He was the criminal.”
“But it can wear at you, can’t it? Paying money for something you didn’t even do.”
I know the feeling. Connor blackmailed me for ten years, and I was close to killing him. But the thing that held me back was that I was responsible for my situation. I’d trusted the wrong person, and I had to pay for that.
That’s not Ravi’s case. He’s paying for his brother’s crimes. That might break a person.
I hope I never find out.
“How am I supposed to have done this?” Ravi says. “He was sitting next to you, not me.”
“Good point,” Sandrine says.
“Shut it, Sandrine.” I let my eyes rove over the room. It’s a powerful feeling, I have to admit, being this close to solving it all. But I shouldn’t get ahead of myself. I tend to do that. And Sandrine is laughing at me.
“What’s your secret?” I ask her.
“Excuse me?”
“That’s what Guy traffics in. He hired you to ghostwrite his book for him. Did you start?”
“That’s what I came here for. He said he had notes and we’d discuss it. But we never got to speak about it.”
“What was the book about?”
“All this.” She waves her hand around. “Amalfi Made Me Do It, the sequel.”
“You think it’s funny?”
“I think it’s ridiculous.”
“Did you kill him?”
“What? No. Why would I?”
“I don’t know. Why are you dating my sister? It’s all kind of Single White Female, if I’m being honest.”78
“You want to date your sister?”
Harper snorts, and I shoot her a dirty look. “You’re part of the problem here.”
“Me?” Harper gives me her innocent eyes.
“You should shun her.”
“Shunning. Okay. Sure. On it, boss.” She frowns because I’m not her boss anymore.
I turn back to Sandrine. “What are you up to? What’s your big plan?”
“I don’t have a plan, Eleanor. I just want to make a living doing what I love. But you have made that impossible.”
“That’s exactly what I’d expect you to say. Turning it around on me, when I’m the victim.”
“No, Guy is the victim.”
“And Inspector Tucci,” Oliver adds.
“And him,” I say. “And Brian. Why’d you have to kill Brian?”