by C. A. Larmer
Roxy stepped into the library, glad to find it deserted again, and began looking about. The book that had caught her eye the day before, the one entitled Myths & Legends was nowhere to be found and eventually she gave up and settled on an Australian classic instead. Sure, she’d agreed to help Helen out, but perhaps, like everyone else, what she really needed right now was some quality time out. Maybe it would clear her head.
Back in her bedroom, Roxy tried to ignore the laptop that remained unopened by the side cupboard and instead prepared herself a cool bubble bath.
As the froth slithered around her weary limbs, Roxy shrugged back her guilt. She knew she should be out there, transcribing Abi’s interviews in case they contained something of note—had she mentioned Willie? Had she indicated some kind of motive?—but she simply couldn’t find the energy. Not yet.
After a good half hour soak she emptied the bath, wrapped herself in the fluffy dressing gown and lay down on her bed. It was time to take her mind off things for a bit, so she opened the book and lost herself in the adventures of Tim Winton’s Cloudstreet.
Chapter 11
At exactly 6pm, Roxy stepped out of her room and into the hallway. She had not overdressed this evening, simply put on black three-quarter pants and a striped black and white top, and made her way down to the main veranda. Everyone had now materialised. The Zimmermans, looking quite shaken and unable to meet anyone’s eyes were sitting on the lounge, juices in hand. Luc was standing alone, holding onto what looked like a whisky, leaning on the railing fixated by the view. Maya was sitting at a table with her husband, both stonily quiet with cocktails and a large box of tissues close by, and Helen and Doc were deep in conversation to the side. Roxy spotted Joshua at the bar next to Maurice and walked over.
“Hey, man, I’ve hardly seen you since...” He let the sentence dangle there for a moment. “So, what can I get you? Something strong?”
“Just a glass of merlot, if you’ve got one, thanks.”
“Sure thing. How are you holding up? You okay?”
Roxy looked surprised. “I should be asking you that. I know you loved Abi deeply, I can only feel for you, for all of you.”
Joshua clenched his jaw tightly and concentrated on opening the wine bottle.
“Let Maurice do that,” Helen said appearing by Roxy’s side. “I’d like to address all the guests, and you.”
Joshua had already uncorked it and quickly poured Roxy a glass.
“It’s done,” he told her, then followed Roxy to some seats at the back.
The tension in the air that evening was palpable. Roxy wondered if everyone felt the way Helen did, that one of them was a killer. Roxy snuck a peek at each person in turn but all she saw was shock and grief. Helen asked Luc to take a seat and then stood before them all, one hand holding onto the railing. She tried for a warm smile. Failed miserably.
“Thank you, everyone, for making the effort to be here tonight. I know this has been a terrible, terrible day.”
As Helen spoke Roxy couldn’t help being amazed by the woman’s transformation. In the three days Roxy had been at Dormay, Helen had gone from a cold professional and pouting daughter to a madwoman raving accusations at all and sundry, to this calm, vaguely human creature who appeared before them now. It was a positive transition, but surprising nonetheless. Roxy wondered how Helen had managed to turn up for cocktails herself, let alone apply her lipstick so precisely. If Helen had stood before them all with her hair in tufts and her pyjamas still on, no one would have blamed her. Still, no amount of grooming could hide Helen’s obvious exhaustion. She might have sounded strong, but she looked as frail as a sparrow.
“This has been an absolutely traumatic day for all of us,” Helen was saying, looking suddenly sheepish. “I really do appreciate the way everyone has handled this and I need to apologise for my... my outburst earlier today.”
“Please, Helen, do not concern yourself with that,” Doc said. “You’ve received an enormous shock. It’s quite understandable.”
He looked to Wade and Maya who both shifted their gaze as if they weren’t quite ready to forgive Helen just yet.
“Thank you, Doc,” Helen said. “Now, most of you are locals or employees of some sort so I really only address the Zimmermans when I say I am so dreadfully sorry for the way your vacation has turned out, and obviously I will graciously refund your fee.”
“Yes, yes,” snapped Ingrid, as if she expected as much, as if she wasn’t talking to a woman in mourning. “But when can we go? We want to leave at once.”
“That is not actually up to me, I’m afraid. Chief Davara is in charge now and has asked that we all remain on the island until he gives us the all-clear.”
“The all-clear?” It was Wade now and he looked outraged again. “Listen, I’m a bit pissed off with all of this. The way Davara speaks you’d think one of us did it.”
“Well, they could hardly suspect you, sweetie,” Maya said, pulling out a packet of cigarettes, “you were at the mainland.”
“Of course he doesn’t suspect me, Maya, that’s a ridiculous notion. But he can’t possibly think you did it, either! Or any of you for that matter.”
“Hey, man, he’s just doing his job,” said Joshua and Helen held up a hand.
“Joshua’s right. Chief Davara would be a fool to let anyone leave until he’s determined time of death, cause of death, alibis, that sort of thing.”
Luc sat forward. “So, until ’ee solves this thing, the murderer eeze still out there?”
“Or in here,” Doc muttered and Maya’s eyes widened.
“Oooh it’s just like an Agatha Christie novel!” she gushed, dragging on her cigarette. “You know: 12 people, stuck on a deserted island. Someone slips the dagger through someone’s heart and that little French man has to work out whodunit!”
“He’s Belgian, actually,” said Roxy, “and there’s nothing fictional about all of this, Maya. Helen’s mother is dead and somebody really did do it.”
“Oh, I know, I was just saying...”
Helen frowned. “Please, let’s not go over all that again. I truly hope, and expect, that this will all get sorted quickly and that whoever did it—stranger or not—is apprehended and taken off this island pronto. In the meantime, we need to remain calm and get on with it as best we can. Which is why we will be continuing with business as usual, or close enough to it. And by that I mean, meals will continue to be provided as always, activities planned, drivers available should you need them.”
Again, she was mostly addressing the Zimmermans now.
“We just want to be out of here,” reiterated Ingrid and Helen nodded.
“I understand. But until that’s permitted, I hope you understand we will do everything we can to make your stay as comfortable and normal as possible.”
Ingrid sniffed and looked to her husband. He shook his head very slightly at her and said simply, “We understand.”
“So that puts you off the hook and on holidays, then,” Maya said to Roxy, blowing a circle of smoke. “No book to worry about.”
“No, but I don’t exactly feel in a holiday spirit, Maya.”
“Of course you don’t,” said Helen, “but I hope you will at least try to relax. This will all get sorted out very soon. Now, please, everyone drink up. Dinner will be served in about half an hour.”
Doc stood then and held his glass high.
“If I may, I would like to propose a toast to our dear Abigail.” They all reached for their glasses. “To the finest woman who ever walked these shores. Who did more for these people than we will ever know. And who will be sorely missed.”
They all chorused “Here! Here!” and drank.
Behind him the sky, which had been streaked with colour, blushed the deepest of reds and they all looked at the sunset with awe. It was a dazzling sight.
“Abi’s come to say farewell,” Doc said quietly and they all raised their glasses again, this time in a silent salute to the horizon.
Roxy’s third dinner a
t the hotel was so very different from the two before. While Helen ate almost nothing as usual and Maya drank way too much, everyone was relatively subdued. There were no histrionics, no accusations, no fears verbalised, just common, idle chatter, the sort of conversation Roxy had originally expected of a luxury resort like this.
Surprising, she thought, that murder would make everything turn so lacklustre and normal. She wondered whether Abi would approve. Probably not. A gaping hole had clearly been formed by Abi’s absence. Helen, now calmer and more controlled, was doing her best to smooth things over and keep things going, but Dormay’s heart was no longer there. Roxy had only known Abi such a short time but already missed her uproarious laughter, her wobbly walk and her trademark gin and tonics.
Roxy was not alone and nobody had very much to say as they worked through their meal. She noticed that Maya and Luc were no longer eyeing each other off across the table. In fact they had been avoiding each other’s eyes all evening, and she wondered whether it had anything to do with Wade’s presence. Or had Luc finally broken it off with the young woman? Roxy dismissed this idea. After all, Abi was no longer around to threaten his position at Dormay.
Eventually Helen excused herself and went to bed, followed soon after by Doc. The rest of them made their way to the veranda where Roxy helped herself to a peppermint tea. Within minutes Wade was pulling her aside.
“Look, I’ve gotta get back to the mainland, lots to attend to. Maya needs to stay, she’s caught up in all this... business.”
He growled a little and Roxy was not sure if he was angry at Maya for being a suspect or Abi for putting her in that position in the first place. He took a sip of his espresso and got to the point.
“I’d like you to keep an eye on her for me. She seems to have taken a liking to you and, well, there’s no baggage with you. Not like Helen.” Roxy raised an eyebrow. “I’m not stupid, I know Helen has no time for Maya; thinks she’s a giggling school girl.”
He glanced across at his wife who was puffing away on another cigarette and laughing at some comment Joshua was making.
“In many ways she is very young, which is why I’m asking you to look out for her for me.”
Well, she is half your age, what did you expect? Roxy wanted to scream at him but simply said, “Happy to, Wade. I’m just not sure what I’m looking for.”
“Make sure she’s okay, that’s all. She can get hysterical, you must have worked that out by now. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to have a word with Maurice.”
He stepped over to the bar where the young waiter was filtering coffee. Roxy spotted the Zimmermans sipping teas on the lounge and took the opportunity to join them. She doubted very much that the Swiss couple had anything to do with ‘this business’ but she had a job to do and she might as well start crossing suspects off the list. She asked them how they were doing.
“We are fine,” said Ingrid in that curt tone that suggested you were being impertinent for even asking.
“I guess it must have been a shock to you when you found out about Abi?” Roxy continued.
“Of course.”
Bernard sat forward then and said, “I hear you were the one who found her. On the beach?”
“Yes,” Roxy said. “Horrible sight. I’ll never forget it, but it’s probably just as well it was me and not Helen.”
They nodded solemnly, so she swooped in.
“You’re lucky you were at the other end of the island when it all happened.”
“Mm,” Ingrid agreed. “We were busy diving, we did not know about all of this.”
“You guys are incredible,” Roxy said, baiting the hook some more. “Up so early and making the most of every day. I admire that, I really do.”
She leant forward conspiratorially, putting one hand up to shield her lips. “Considering some of us can’t seem to drag ourselves out of bed until noon.”
They all glanced across at Maya, and Ingrid tutted. “We believe in always using the day. We are not lazy.”
“No, I can see that. So you must have been up and out pretty early this morning to miss all the action? I didn’t spot you at breakfast.”
“Yes, we went diving very early today. We return to Switzerland soon so wanted to get a long dive in.”
“Did one of the staff take you out, or did you head off on your own?”
“Sometimes Willie helps us, sometimes we go alone. We are good with boats. We don’t need help.”
Roxy noticed she had not answered this question and was about to ask again—keen to know if they had an alibi—when Bernard coughed and stood up.
“It is late. We should get to bed.”
Ingrid quickly nodded goodbye to Roxy and followed him out.
The writer took a sip of her tea and sat back to think. So, the Zimmermans were up early with nobody around to see them. She wondered if Mary could corroborate that. Spotting Maurice packing away the coffee, she got up and wandered over.
“Is Mary still at the hotel?” she asked.
“No, Miss. She is sleeping now.”
He, too, spoke in the melodic way of the locals but his English, she noticed, was quite good. “She is always up very early for breakfast.”
“Of course,” Roxy said. “I might catch her then.” She hesitated. “You don’t work the breakfast shift do you?”
“No, Miss, I do lunch and dinner.”
“That must be a relief—no early mornings for you.”
He smiled widely revealing a set of perfect white teeth. No betel nut for him either, she thought.
“I get up early always, Miss. All the village gets up with the sun. We don’t sleep in like guests.” He chuckled a little. “Some mornings I do fishing for Abi...”
He stopped, looked stricken suddenly. She offered him a warm smile.
“This must be so hard for you, and the other staff?”
“Very hard, Miss. We are all sad. My children, they can not stop crying. Tara, Patricia, her kids. Miss Abigail was very good to my people.”
“I know she was, Maurice.” She sighed. “I’d better let you get on with it, get back to your family.”
“Thank you, Miss.”
On the way out, Roxy nearly collided with Doc who was on his way in, deep in thought. He looked up at her startled.
“Oh, hello! It’s you, Roxy.”
“Hi Doc, I thought you’d gone to bed. Are you okay? You look worried.”
He brushed her off. “No, no, my dear. I’m perfectly fine. Just been checking up on Helen.”
“Is she okay?”
“Oh, yes, I can assure you, she is in good health. She’s stoic that one; a little too stoic if you ask me. You hitting the sack?”
“Mm, I’m not quite as stoic as some. I need serious Zzzs.”
“That’s the ticket! Will do you the world of good.”
He stepped out onto the veranda and Roxy returned to her room.
Once inside, she reached for her journal and jotted down a few notes, starting with the Zimmerman’s diving trip and ending with the fact that the entire village were up and about early in the morning. So why didn’t anybody see anything, she wondered?
If only someone had walked down that track at just the right time.
Roxy sat back on her bed and thought about this. Helen was adamant that someone was up to no good, had planned this murder meticulously. But Roxy was not quite so sure. Both the timing and location were far too risqué. If these villagers were really up and about early—as indeed the Zimmermans were—then the murderer could not count on having the track all to himself at that hour. He certainly couldn’t count on not being spotted entering or leaving the site. Roxy chewed on her pen, her brain cells ticking over. It seemed more likely that Abi’s death was a random incident, a crime of passion, perhaps. She sat forward.
What if someone ran into Abi on the path this morning? What if they began to discuss something that led to a fight, that led to Abi’s death?
Roxy threw the pen down and closed her jo
urnal. It was no good thinking about it anymore now. What she really needed was a good night’s sleep because tomorrow she had a big job ahead of her. She needed to find out exactly what could make someone flare up so quickly, and with such devastating results.
Chapter 12
The sun tried to edge its way into the room through the slats in the shutters but wasn’t having a lot of luck and Roxy smiled to herself as she glanced at the clock—7.05am—then turned over and went back to sleep. Sleep-ins were probably going to be the only silver lining of this terrible tragedy, but it was a silver lining nonetheless and she took the opportunity to stay snoring until 8.30.
Eventually, Roxy stepped into a shower and got ready for the day. Opening the shutters she discovered that whatever clouds were brewing had now blown away, so placed a swimsuit under a wide-belted skirt and top and went down to breakfast.
Mary was at her usual post, coffee pot in hand and Roxy waved her over as she took a seat out on the veranda.
“Some cooked breakfast for you today, Miss?” Mary asked hopefully and Roxy shook her head.
“No, I’ll get a croissant in a moment. Can I ask you something?”
Mary looked surprised but nodded her head.
“Yesterday morning. What time did you start work?”
“Ah, six o’clock, Miss, I come and set up for breakfast.”
“Of course, and did you happen to see the Zimmerman’s about?”
“No. They usually come and get some fruit and bread and go again.”
“But not yesterday?”
“No, Miss. Maybe they too busy!”
She laughed a little at this and Roxy smiled.
“So, did you see anyone else out and about early?”
Mary looked confused suddenly so Roxy said, “I guess I’m trying to piece it all together, in my head, you know? For Abi.”
“Oh poor Miss Abi. Is very sad. All village very sad.”
“Of course you all are. It’s dreadful. So, anyone else beat me to breakfast?”
Mary didn’t hesitate this time. “Yes, I tell police man yesterday, I see Joshua first—he come and get coffee and go again. Soon after I see Abi.”