Dastardly Deeds (11 page)

Everyone else was already settled by the time we got to the restaurant. Ruby and Quinn sat in the spare seats beside their grandmother while I took the one between Lew and Darcy. I smiled cheerfully.

‘Nice to see you made it,’ said Lew. ‘We were taking bets. Now I owe Nick ten bucks.’

‘You bet that I
wouldn’t
make it?’

‘Yep. Thought you might be holed up in a Turkish motel somewhere.’

I avoided looking towards Ashley. ‘No.’

‘I’d like you to know I didn’t vote for that,’ said Darcy, looking unimpressed.

‘Well, you sort of did,’ said Petra. She twisted to face me. ‘So, what goes? One minute we’re trying on sunglasses and the next you’re doing the one-minute mile.’

‘The guy short-changed me.’

‘Did you catch him?’

I shook my head. The wine waiter came up with a bottle of white and one of red. He filled glasses as required and Darcy made a show of examining his wine. Petra rolled her eyes and turned her attention to the other end of the table. Yen was holding forth on the dangers of leaving a business in the hands of someone who may or may not be capable of coping if things went awry. I ordered salmon bisque for entrée, followed by spinach and ricotta cannelloni. After the waiter had taken away the menus, I addressed Lew.

‘So did you and Deb buy sunglasses too?’

‘Yeah. Got the right change though.’

‘Did you pay with a large note? I think that’s how he did it. I gave him fifty liras and should have got twenty back. Instead I got ten.’

Lew raised his eyebrows. ‘You risked missing the boat for ten lira? How much did your taxi cost?’

‘It’s the principle of the thing,’ I replied smoothly. Over the balustrade I could just see Deb’s table on the lower level. It looked like all four were in attendance.

Our entrées arrived and I sampled my bisque. It was delicious.

‘Did you know that Gandhi didn’t believe women could be raped?’ asked Ruby in a loud voice. She was staring at her phone. ‘Some dude put it on Facebook. Apparently he thought that if they really wanted to, they could repel men with the flame of their dazzling purity.’

‘What if they weren’t pure?’ asked Ashley with interest. ‘Were they fair game?’

‘I’m not sure I’d have ever described my purity as dazzling,’ mused Petra. ‘More sputtering on and off. Sort of like one of those dodgy light globes.’

Nick, who had been taking a mouthful of wine, spluttered. Ashley thumped him on the back helpfully.

‘I’m surprised you can remember back that far,’ said Yen. She transferred her gaze from Petra to me, her eyes narrowing. I gathered I hadn’t been forgiven for having nearly missed the boat.

‘Halogen,’ said Enid suddenly.

Ruby looked up. ‘What?’

‘Halogen. They last longer.’

The waiter appeared to clear away our entrée dishes and replenish the wine.

‘Not a bad drop,’ said Darcy approvingly.

‘What about you?’ I asked him. ‘Did you buy yourself some sunglasses?’

Lew glanced at me with amusement. ‘What’s with the sunglasses obsession?’

‘Just trying to work out if anyone else got ripped off.’

Darcy was shaking his head. ‘Only got a pair for Tessa.’

‘Is she still not well?’ I had belatedly realised that she wasn’t here. This omission came as a pleasant surprise. It was nice not to care.

Petra tilted her chair back. ‘Maybe she’s pregnant?’

‘
Is
she?’ asked Ruby, not looking at all pleased.

‘God, no! Not a chance!’

Petra swung precariously on her chair. ‘Oh, finally worked it out, have you?’

‘Keep it clean,’ said Lew, but he seemed distracted. He crooked a finger towards Ashley, who came over, hitching his pants so that he could squat by Lew’s side. The two men spoke for a while. Lew appeared to be trying to convince Ashley of something. I watched with some interest.

‘Nice earrings. And I like that thing you’ve got around your head,’ said Darcy. ‘Why didn’t you ever wear anything like that when we were married?’

‘And why didn’t you keep your trousers zipped?’ I queried conversationally. Over his shoulder I could see Petra, listening with a grin. ‘I suppose these are the type of clothing questions we’re always left with after a marriage implodes.’

Darcy swirled his wine. ‘Are you and that bloke getting back together?’

I blinked. ‘Maybe. No. Why?’

‘Just curious. You can do better.’

‘Well, thanks for that vote of confidence.’ I glanced across at Ashley. Even as he listened to Lew, he was watching me. I took a page from my sister’s book and winked. After a moment of surprise, he gave me one of his slow half-smiles.

‘That answers my question, anyway,’ said Darcy tersely.

‘Can I have your attention,’ called Lew. To underline his request, he tapped a spoon against his wineglass. The sound echoed musically and even the people at the next table across fell silent. ‘We have an announcement!’

Ashley had now stood. He did not look entirely happy.

‘Congratulations,’ said Enid. ‘You make a lovely couple.’

‘Not quite.’ Lew wheeled his chair back so that he had a better view of the table. A passing waiter leapt nimbly out of the way. ‘No, I’d like to share some wonderful news that Ash, Nick and I received today. We got the go-ahead to become business partners, with the best venture to hit Majic in many years!’

‘Did he say we were having an adventure?’ asked Enid. ‘I
love
adventure.’

Darcy looked from Lew to Ashley. He didn’t look happy either. ‘What is it then? Real estate? Retail?’ His gaze settled on Ashley. ‘Pet detective agency?’

‘Golf!’ announced Lew grandly.

Everybody’s attention fixed on him, with a few involuntary glances down to his wheelchair and back. Even the people at the next table looked interested.

‘Hot-air ballooning,’ said Enid. ‘That’s what I call adventure. Or maybe parachuting. I’d like to say bungee jumping, but I suspect I’m a trifle old.’

‘We’ll be building a golf course,’ Lew went on. ‘Out on the old Gunthry farm. Just had our offer for the land accepted this morning. It’s all systems go!’

‘Excellent!’ said Uncle Jim, beaming. ‘Love a spot of golf.’

‘Won’t you have to get council permission?’ asked Darcy of Lew.

‘In the bag, son. Haven’t I mentioned the fourth member of our little consortium? Only the mayor himself, the Right Honourable James Sheridan!’

Ashley was regarding me evenly. I had a strong sense that one of the reasons he hadn’t wanted to share the news yet was because he wanted to tell me first. Nevertheless I felt a hot, embarrassed surge of annoyance. Unjustified, really, given I had been the one who had broken off our relationship. But then again, only two days ago I had agreed to rekindle everything, and had done so under the impression that we would not see a great deal of each other afterwards, unless we chose to. Separate lives, he had said. Omitting to mention that he was planning on building a golf course, a
golf course
, just up the road from my house. I stared down at my cutlery.
Woman stabs herself in the eye with a fork. The chrome clashes with her earrings.

The old Gunthry farm was a lovely piece of land that flanked the main road to Bendigo. It was only about a kilometre from my house in central Majic. I would probably be able to see the eighteenth hole from my lounge-room window. I was going to have to get new curtains.

‘Did you already know?’ asked Petra, emerging from the bathroom the following morning. One white fluffy towel encased her body and another was wrapped tightly around her head.

‘Are there any towels left for me?’ I was sitting in bed, my egg-smeared breakfast tray on my lap. The only disappointment had been the coffee; it was still pretty bad.

‘Yes. So, did you know?’

I shrugged. ‘He mentioned something in the wind, now that he’s retired. Probably didn’t want to go into much detail until they got the green light. But – a bloody golf course. The most boring game in the world. Apart from cricket.’

‘Actually, I quite like golf.’ Petra opened the wardrobe to peer inside. ‘It’s going to cost them a bomb though. Design alone doesn’t come cheap.’

I chewed on a crust of toast. I had become accustomed to the idea, and in fact could see the four men working well together and enjoying themselves thoroughly. What I was still struggling with was the proximity. I also thought that the business venture wouldn’t have been put at risk if he had given me a heads-up.

The dinner last night had turned into something of a celebration, with Ashley, Nick and Lew the centre of attention. It had become increasingly boring, much like golf itself, and I retired shortly after dessert. On the upside, I had managed to discover that one person who hadn’t either bought sunglasses or been involved in the payment was Griffin Russo. On the downside, this didn’t help much.

Petra had slipped into a thigh-length caftan and sandals. She sprayed herself liberally with perfume and sat down with a bottle of burgundy nail polish. ‘What’re your plans for today? I’m catching up with Deb later. Want to join us?’

I looked at her thoughtfully. I’d already decided to tell her about the ten lira note at some stage, probably after I had discovered a little more information. But it now occurred to me that it might be judicious to have a collaborator sooner rather than later. Ashley was being less than helpful.

‘It doesn’t really take that much thought,’ said Petra, painting her nails carefully. ‘A simple yes or no would suffice.’

‘Probably. Listen, I wanted to tell you something. On the day that woman died, she was showing her friends a name and phone number that some guy called Clint wrote on a Turkish ten lira note. She tucked it away in her wallet and said she was going to call him when she got back to Australia.’

Petra paused to glance in my direction, raising one eyebrow. ‘So your keen investigative instinct tells you that this Clint murdered her?’

‘No. Well, maybe …’ This possibility hadn’t occurred to me. I unpacked it and then shook my head. He wouldn’t have put the note back into circulation. ‘Definitely not. But her purse was emptied by the murderer so we know that he must have ended up with that ten lira note. The one with the phone number.’

‘I see. And where exactly did you get all this from?’

‘I overheard them. Anyway, that doesn’t matter. The important thing is that someone used that same ten lira note to pay for sunglasses from that seller outside the Grand Bazaar yesterday. Someone from our group.’

Now I had her full attention. The nail-polish brush was poised above one half-painted nail. I could almost see the information being processed. ‘Hang on, are you saying that …’

‘I am!’ I replied, a trifle melodramatically. ‘One of our group is a murderer.’

‘How do you know someone used that note?’

‘Because I got it in my change. That’s why I ran after the seller.’

She was still staring at me. ‘He might have got it earlier, from someone else.’

‘Unlikely. It was clearly at the top of his money pouch, which indicates it had been given to him very recently.’

She finished painting her nails and then firmly closed the nail polish before turning back to me. ‘You’re doing it again.’

‘I know. But I didn’t go searching for this. It was handed to me. Literally.’

‘Are you going to tell the police?’

‘Not sure. If I do, then the holiday is over. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t fancy spending time in a Turkish jail. Not sure how Yen would go either.’

‘Oh, she’d be fine,’ said Petra airily. She blew on her fingernails and then abruptly stood. ‘I’m going to dry my hair.’

The bathroom door closed behind her and I took another sip of coffee. It was still bad. The hairdryer sent a noisy throb through the thin wall. We were to remain at sea today, cruising smoothly towards Athens, with arrival scheduled for around six in the morning. The sea glittered through the open sliding door, with a light breeze ruffling the curtains. Petra emerged, her hair now neatly sculpted into a wavy shoulder-length bob. She stood watching me for a moment.

‘This is why you were asking those questions about the sunglasses yesterday.’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m going to go and grab some decent coffee from the cafe. Want one?’

I nodded enthusiastically. After she left, I pushed my tray aside and then scrambled over the bed to fetch the laptop. It took only a minute to find Kim Satchwell’s Facebook page. The privacy settings were low, which was a lucky break, and I was instantly able to see the messages of goodbye that had been posted by her friends over the past few days. I scrolled until I found one that also sent sympathy to her friends,
who are still by Kim’s side
: Portia Randolph, Cathy McCorquodale and Maron Swan. I clicked each in turn, feeling the thrill of discovery as I recognised their profile photos, but unfortunately all three were more careful with their accounts than their dead friend. I wondered for a moment whether there could be a connection between the lack of privacy settings and her death, but then dismissed the notion.
Dead woman lured through Facebook to remote Turkish peninsula. Most complicated murder plot ever.

I drummed my fingers on the laptop and then turned to Twitter. I couldn’t find the first two but Maron Swan was an avid user, with her own name as a handle. Her last tweet, posted only forty minutes ago, read:
We’re finally leaving Canakkale. Can’t wait to get home. Worst holiday ever. Sad face.

I thought that Maron might have mentioned her friend, for whom it had been a substantially worse holiday, and I also thought an emoji of a sad face might have been more effective than actually typing the words. But my attention was focused on the fact that I could now rule the three of them out. If they had only left Canakkale today, it was impossible for them to have passed over the ten lira in Istanbul yesterday. They were off the hook.

I closed the laptop as Petra came through with two steaming cups of takeaway coffee. They smelt like mornings in heaven. I took mine gratefully.

‘I’m thinking Scott,’ said Petra without preamble. ‘Those blokey multi-married types often see women as objects. Supplied for their pleasure. And they get a little incensed when things don’t go their way. I reckon they had a brief fling and then he followed her down that path for second helpings. She laughed at him or something and turned her back to take photos. Then he flipped his lid.’

I looked at her, amused. ‘So now you’re interested?’

‘If I’m stuck on a ship with a killer, then yes. It’s rather in my best interests to have an idea who it might be.’ She sat down and cupped her hands around the coffee. ‘I’ve decided I’ll help you investigate today, while we’re at sea. But I make no promises after that. I’m looking forward to seeing Athens.’

‘Fair enough. I think it’s Michael Russo though.’

‘You can’t nominate someone just because they’re a tool.’

‘Yes I can. And I have.’ I pushed some pillows against the headboard so that I could position myself comfortably. ‘Besides, apart from only having been married once, he could fit the exact same scenario you just mapped out for Scott.’

She nodded. ‘True. But I think he lacks the killer gene. What about Donald?’

‘Good point. Perhaps Kim said something derogatory about Lego.’

Petra laughed. ‘Or maybe she tried to interfere in the magic of childhood.’

I grinned and then sipped my coffee as I thought. It was nice to discuss everything with someone who wasn’t Ashley. He had a habit of playing devil’s advocate that could be very annoying. The thought of Ashley reminded me of the impending golf course. I didn’t even know the difference between a birdie, an eagle and … whatever the other avian-related term was.

There was a sharp rapping at the door. As soon as Petra opened it, our mother bustled through. She spoke without preamble.

‘Jim and I are returning home tomorrow afternoon, from Athens. He’s having heart palpitations.’

I jumped to my feet. ‘Oh, no! Is he all right?’

‘Of course not. I just said he was having heart palpitations.’

‘Get him to the medical centre,’ said Petra rapidly. ‘They’re on the first deck.’

‘I know where they are,’ snapped Yen. ‘And yes, we’ve already been. They’re incompetent. No, my mind’s made up. We’re going home.’

I looked at her suspiciously. ‘Ah, what did the doctor actually say?’

‘The idiot said it was indigestion. As if he’d know.’

‘I see.’ I exchanged a quick glance with my sister. ‘Well, if you’re sure …’

‘I am. I’ve already made arrangements. Can’t take risks with Jim’s health.’

I nodded slowly. ‘What about Enid?’

‘She wants to stay. She’s grown quite fond of the casino. I expect you two to look out for her, it’s the least you can do.’ Ignoring our stunned expressions, she continued briskly, ‘And now I have work to do. Petra, I need you. Something’s gone wrong with my internet connection and I need to email Lucy.’

‘Oh. Okay.’

‘Yes, come along.’ Yen nodded in my direction and turned to wrench the door open. Petra rose, throwing her coffee container into the bin with some force.

I called after her, ‘What time are you meeting up with Deb?’

‘About two, by the pool deck.’ She paused by the door, casting a glance over her shoulder to make sure Yen wasn’t within earshot. ‘We need to be careful though. Don’t come on too strong.’

‘Never.’

Petra snorted rudely but softened it by flashing me a grin. She grabbed her sunglasses and gave me a wave as she left. I knew that this sudden decision of Yen’s was more about her being homesick and missing the bookshop than anything to do with Jim’s health. In fact, she’d probably given him indigestion herself. Her decision wasn’t wholly unexpected as I’d been rather surprised she had even signed up for the trip in the first place. She wasn’t really a holiday person. I sat for a while, enjoying the decadence of still being in bed mid-morning, and then pulled my laptop towards me. Time for some work.

Amazingly enough, the next two hours saw me put together the semblance of a column about Rome. After playing around with my ‘what I did on my holiday’ idea, I had decided it really was lame. It would be better to keep it simple, which was exactly what I accomplished. Certainly not my best work, but a promising start. Lots of superlatives, adjectives and references to architecture interspersed with snippets regarding the pitfalls of travelling with family. Nothing at all about ex-husbands or daughters who weren’t coming home or women who chose this most beautiful of places to fling themselves from the hotel balcony.

At lunchtime, I ordered room service. This option was fast becoming my best friend. There was also a lovely sense of self-indulgence that accompanied lounging around in pyjamas in the middle of the day. The last time I had done anything like this was the two days I had spent in hospital after giving birth to Quinn. This time, instead of sleepless nights, sore breasts and a jelly belly, I had just luxury stretching before me. And the residue of a jelly belly, of course, but I had become accustomed to that.

Quinn visited after lunch, mostly because she was at a loose end. Apparently Ruby had met a few people around her own age. Quinn wandered around the room, picking things up and putting them down, complaining about feeling bored. When I offered little sympathy, she left in search of her grandmother. I spent another hour polishing my column. It still wasn’t great but it was acceptable. I found the last querulous email from my editor, which had arrived that morning, and attached the column to my reply. I pressed send with a flourish and flopped back on my bed. I felt a sense of accomplishment out of all proportion to the deed, but I was going to wallow in it while I could.

However, lengthy wallowing would make me late for the meeting with Deb, so I allowed myself only ten minutes before dancing into the shower. Twenty minutes later I was dressed in white shorts and a black sleeveless shirt. I searched for my black hat before remembering that it had hit the deck in the Grand Bazaar, so I opted for the bandana look once more. I exited the room and nearly ran into Milo, our cleaner. I realised that he must have been waiting, given our room was usually cleaned first thing in the morning. I apologised profusely and made a mental note to leave a tip at the end of the cruise.

Deb and Petra were already ensconced in one of the semicircular lounges on the deck overlooking the pool. Deckchairs lined the outer area, lumpy with beached bodies that shone with suntan oil. I stopped at the bar to order a champagne and orange juice before settling myself alongside Deb.

‘Orange juice?’ she asked, eyeing my drink.

‘Vitamin C,’ I replied, taking a sip. It was perfect. Everything was perfect.

‘Petra was just telling me that your mother’s leaving early,’ said Deb with concern. ‘Hope everything’s okay?’

‘Fine. I think she’s just a little homesick. Nothing to worry about.’

‘Deb was just showing me her sunglasses,’ said Petra. ‘She bought them from that guy that ripped you off.’

I took the cue. ‘Nice, Deb. Did you pay for them yourself?’

‘Yes, but there was no problem. He must’ve just made a mistake with you. I mean, we were all buying them, shoving money at him, and he was great. Probably just one of those things.’ She gave me an odd look. ‘At least it was only ten lira. That’s, what, five bucks? Hardly worth making a fuss.’