I shudder; I hope the Judge doesn’t get any ideas from this. This sounds exactly like the type of thing he’d love to introduce.
How the hell am I going to convince any of them to talk to me now?
‘Mo, please,’ I say.
In the real world, I’ve encountered people who don’t want to speak with me but back then I had the authority of being a police officer. Life inside this villa is a law unto itself.
‘No, I don’t really feel like speaking with you,’ he replies, the distaste as evident in his voice as it is in his face.
‘I understand that this is difficult and uncomfortable but—’
‘You understand?’ he spits out. ‘Have you not just seen what happened to me when I mentioned one thing to you? There’s no way I’m putting myself at risk like that. I have a reputation to think about.’
Carly scoffs loudly at this and I can’t help but empathise with her; his selfishness is astounding.
‘We’re all at risk,’ I reply as calmly as I can because under the surface I’m seething. ‘Listen to me, please. If you all refuse, then I can’t push forward with this investigation and the deaths will continue.’
‘Do you know what?’ says Mo, getting to his feet. ‘I’m not convinced any more that this is a real threat. Maybe Jack isn’t really dead. And this, all of this…’ – he spreads his arms out wide and gestures to the surrounding villa garden – ‘…is just a ploy to get us to admit something, creating drama to get the producers great ratings. Maybe LoveWrecked is taking advantage of us to make good television. I refuse to give in to that. I refuse to be made to look like a fool and allow them to line their pockets at my expense.’
‘This isn’t a ploy,’ says Rosalind, her voice heavy and her body shaking. ‘Don’t you think that if this was real, I, the producer, would know about it? I didn’t know anything about it. And I’m absolutely fucking terrified.’
‘She’s right, Mo,’ I say. ‘You need to believe me when I say this is real.’
Mo laughs at this. ‘Do you think I’d believe you? You’re a murderer. Who did you kill, hey? And what’s to say you’ve not killed again? Or that she has?’ He jabs his finger towards Valentina.
Valentina’s lip trembles and a fat tear slides down her cheek.
‘Cool it, Mo,’ says Rosalind, putting her arm around Valentina. ‘There is no need to use that tone.’
‘No need to use that tone – are you all crazy? There are people here who’ve just been exposed as murderers. I’m not a murderer. I wasn’t even convicted.’ He turns to me. ‘Why don’t you interview Valentina or yourself?’
Valentina stands up. ‘Talk to me again. Please, I need to explain what happened, what really happened; it isn’t like the Judge is making it sound. I didn’t kill anyone.’
‘No, I want to speak to Mo next.’ I’m determined about this; I haven’t chatted to Mo yet and his mood has been up and down like a yo-yo since we discovered Jack’s body.
‘Mo doesn’t want to speak to you. I do. The Judge has explained things wrong. I’m not a murderer but I did hurt someone, and I will tell you about it all.’
‘Sit down, Valentina. Mo, I want to speak to you next.’
‘And I don’t want to speak to you,’ roars Mo. ‘You have no authority over me.’
‘Why are you stopping this investigation?’
There’s a spark in Mo’s eyes.
‘You call this, this, an investigation? If I were in charge I’d be looking at the murderer first.’ He jabs his finger towards Valentina. ‘She’s even bloody admitting it.’
Valentina’s fists clench and she launches herself at Mo. ‘I never said I was a murderer. I’m not a murderer.’ She beats her tiny hands against his chest. He pushes her off him like a lion swatting away a bird.
‘Don’t push her around like that,’ shouts Rosalind, taking a step closer to Mo.
Valentina is undeterred by Mo’s force and takes a step towards me instead. ‘Kim, I need to tell you something. I can explain everything. I should have told you before. But I didn’t and I’m sorry. Jack knew too.’
I swivel to face her. ‘What?’
‘Jack, he came up to me last night. After he asked me for drugs and he said he only asked me for drugs because he knew what I did. And he wouldn’t let it go when I didn’t want to talk about it. I don’t know how he knew. It must be in my file. Maybe Sophia knew.’
‘So you killed him and Sophia to shut them up?’ interjects Mo.
‘No,’ shouts Valentina. ‘I didn’t kill Jack and I didn’t kill Sophia.’ Valentina’s eyes are wild now and her jaw is clenched so tight she’s in danger of breaking her teeth.
‘So Jack knew your secret. Maybe he knew mine, Kimberley’s and Rosalind’s. And yours, Mo. Any of us could have done it to shut him up,’ says Carly, clearly deciding it is time for her to enter the argument.
‘Everyone,’ I say, my hands raised in what I hope is a calming gesture. ‘Please, calm down.’
‘But what I want to know is how come the Judge knows so much about us?’ asks Carly. She turns around and takes a large step towards Rosalind. ‘I didn’t trust you much before, Rosalind, and I definitely don’t trust you now.’ Carly’s finger is pointed in Rosalind’s direction and Rosalind takes a step back, looking as if she’s been slapped.
‘Do you think I wanted this to happen? If I don’t die here, what kind of life is left for me?’ asks Rosalind, her eyes red.
Valentina grabs the hand that Carly is pointing at Rosalind. ‘What does the Judge know about you, Carly Chu? What are you hiding?’
Carly yanks her hand free. ‘Fuck off.’
‘Don’t tell me to fuck off. Nobody thinks you’re innocent. You’re just as guilty as the rest of us,’ shouts Valentina, her face contorted with anger.
‘I’ll tell you to fuck off if I want to,’ replies Carly, giving Valentina a hard shove.
‘Hey!’ I shout. ‘Both of you, all of you. Stop it.’ But I’m ignored; Valentina pushes Carly back. Carly stumbles, tripping over her feet, and tumbles to the ground.
This does it. The tension that has been building in the villa since the morning erupts. A fight breaks out. Valentina has Carly by the hair. Rosalind tries to pull them apart but gets slapped across the cheek by Carly’s windmilling arms. She yelps in pain. Daniel steps forward and grabs Valentina around the middle in the way he did earlier this morning and pulls her away from Carly.
‘Ouch,’ she cries. ‘Get off me, Daniel, you’re hurting me.’
‘And you,’ says Mo, pointing at Daniel. ‘Why is no one questioning you more? Doesn’t anyone else think it is weird that this guy is filming all of this and is clearly involved?’
‘I didn’t kill anyone, unlike you!’
‘It was an accident,’ shouts Mo, charging towards Daniel, like a bull to a red rag. It’s like a twig has finally snapped in Mo and he is on the rampage. I’m terrified someone is going to get hurt.
Everything is chaos.
‘Stop,’ I scream. ‘Stop it, all of you.’ There are only twenty-five minutes on the clock. They’re wasting valuable time with their petty squabbles.
‘Mo,’ I call over the noise. Mo doesn’t look away from his altercation with Daniel but continues to wag his finger in Daniel’s face. ‘Mo,’ I say, more forcefully this time. Again, I’m ignored. ‘Mo, you say you’re not a murderer. This is your chance to explain it to me and to the world.’ Mo stops and takes a step back from Daniel. Daniel storms away from him, shaking his head angrily. The restaurant owner turns towards me. His shoulders curl around, closing in his chest. Mo Khan looks exhausted and defeated. ‘Please, Mo, let’s have a conversation and talk about this?’
Mo’s fight is gone now, and he shrugs as if to say, What is the worst that can happen? Now that the accusation that he has killed before has been announced to whatever people are still watching LoveWrecked, he seems to have decided things can’t really get worse.
I want to go easy on him, he’s suffered
quite enough in this villa but I’m not afraid to push harder if need be. I can’t forget that our lives are at stake.
‘Let’s chat over here’ I say, gesturing for Mo to follow me. I don’t want to discuss this inside; I prefer to stay close to the others.
On the far side of the garden there is an area made up of several sun loungers. It is removed from the others and relatively secluded but still enables me to keep an eye on Rosalind, Valentina, Carly and Daniel.
From here, I can see that the three women continue their squabble but not with the same vehemence as before. Valentina sits slumped back on the wooden seating, watching as Carly and Rosalind bicker. They’re arguing with words now, not violence, which I’m grateful for.
I sit down on one of the loungers and watch as Mo trudges towards me. I try not to take too much delight in how Mo’s state of mind right now makes him the perfect interviewee. He’s tired and emotional. People often say more than they mean to when they’re in this state. That’s assuming he really feels as awful as he looks.
Someone is lying to me. And despite the death and the horror, I can’t let my own emotions get in the way of my investigation.
‘I’ve never applied for the show before, no. I’ve barely even watched it before,’ says Mo, answering the same question that I posed to Carly an hour ago.
‘So, what did you think when you were approached?’
‘My first thought was that there was no way I was going on the show.’
‘Why did you think that?’ I can predict the answer. Someone who’s killed someone, accidentally or not, probably doesn’t want to put themselves in the spotlight if they don’t have to.
‘Because of my past. Which, for the record,’ Mo tilts his head upwards, searching for the camera, ‘I was acquitted of all wrongdoing.’
‘And yet you’re here; why is that?’
‘I was reluctant; I didn’t want to expose myself, I didn’t want more people to know what I’d…’ Mo hung his head. ‘…what I’d done. But my business partner thought it would be good publicity. Me being on television, people would hear about our restaurant, and we’d get more customers.’ After a pause Mo added, ‘The restaurant isn’t in any trouble or anything; we’ve got lots of loyal customers but as they usually say, no publicity is bad publicity.’ Mo scoffs at this. ‘I think everything happening here in the villa is the exception to the rule. I mean, not that publicity matters if you’re dead.’
‘Last night,’ I say, remembering the exchange I intervened in. ‘Jack Peaks said he recognised you. You protested, quite forcefully. What was that about?’
‘Your theory being Sophia told Jack about me and the person I killed. Jack made a huge show about recognising me to put me on edge, and eventually, I killed him to shut him up?’ He laughs humourlessly.
‘Did you kill him to shut him up?’ I ask.
‘No,’ explodes Mo and I almost lean back at the force of his words. ‘When Jack said he recognised me, it sent me into a panic, I didn’t want to be remembered on the show for – for that. I was acquitted but there was publicity and many people thought I shouldn’t have been acquitted. I came on this show to move on from my past and generate good publicity for my new restaurant.’
‘And so how did you feel when Jack Peaks posed a potential threat to this good publicity?’
‘I was worried, but—’
‘And did you find out that Sophia was the one who told him? I’ve heard she was good at digging up information about people’s pasts.’
‘No, I didn’t know Sophia knew anything.’
‘What would you be willing to do to keep your past hidden?’
‘A lot. But I wouldn’t kill someone.’
‘That’s interesting, because if the Judge’s game has taught me anything, it is that you did kill someone.’
‘No, not like that. This was different. That was an accident.’ Mo twists his hands, intertwining them nervously.
‘Do you have categories of killing someone?’
‘No, I mean, yes. This is different. I didn’t kill Jack Peaks. I was frightened he recognised me and would tell everyone about what I’d done but I didn’t kill him. It is nobody else’s business, but I wouldn’t kill to keep it a secret.’ Mo slams his hands on the sun lounger in frustration. His hands bounce off the plump cushion back into the air; the effect is almost comical.
‘Tell me about the person you did kill.’
Mo’s eyes widen. ‘It was five years ago. In my restaurant. It was a busy night. There was a huge table of men out on their annual boys’ night. There was another table, a family dinner.’ He rubs his forehead. ‘The family was four. Mum, Dad, son and daughter. The daughter had an allergy, a peanut allergy. And they told me about it. They did. But I was so distracted with the large table that I… I didn’t write it down. The daughter had an EpiPen with her but the amount that was in the food was too much. She died.’ Mo drops his head between his hands and he sobs, almost uncontrollably. ‘And it’s ridiculous because I have allergies too. I’m severely allergic to shellfish. So it’s something I take seriously, but that night I lost it.’
I reach out and squeeze his shoulder, all the while thinking that if this is true, then Mo too is definitely here to be punished and it is, therefore, unlikely that he’s guilty. ‘Tell me about last night. What were your movements?’
‘Dinner, dancing, bed. You were with me for most of it.’
‘What time did you go to bed?’
‘I don’t know, I’d had too much to drink. Do you remember what time you went to bed?’ I smooth down my hair in an attempt to deflect the question; I don’t remember what time I went to bed.
‘Well, then,’ says Mo, taking my lack of response to mean that things are as hazy for me as they are for him.
‘You came on this show to move on from your past?’
‘Yes.’
I know I can’t trust anyone. I know that everything Mo is telling me might be a lie. But my instinct tells me his story rings true. His frustration and panic that I might think he committed this crime feels real to me.
I open my mouth to ask another question, but my words are drowned out by another sound. My question is stopped by a scream. I jump up from the sun lounger to look over at the others. Rosalind is screaming. Valentina has wrapped her arms around herself. Carly is staring wide-eyed. Daniel pushes away his camera and takes a step towards the women.
I dash towards them. What is happening? Who is hurt?
My question is answered almost immediately. Valentina’s knees buckle and, with a hard thud, she hits the floor. Her eyes are wide and for a second, we stare at one another. Then she flops backwards, collapsing in a heap.
Chapter Thirty-Two
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Reply to Contact Me form
Message:
Hi Sammy,
Thank you for getting in touch and for sharing your story. I want you to know I think you’re really brave to reach out to me. It’s an absolutely horrible thing to have your life taken away by someone else but I want you to know that you’re not alone. I’m working on a plan to help others like you and I’d be delighted for you to be involved. But before that I think it might be better to meet in person – let me know if you’re interested.
Best wishes,
JD
Chapter Thirty-Three
Kimberley
Sunday 27th July, 14:20
17 Minutes Until Next Murder
I sprint towards Valentina, who lies on the paving, frighteningly still. Her legs are sprawled, and her arms jut out beside her. When I reach her, I crash to my knees.
‘Valentina!’ I call, wrapping my hands around her arms, and shake her. Under my grip, her head rolls to one side and hangs there at an odd uncomfortable angle. Her mouth falls open slackly. But it is the colour of her skin that sends electricity coursing through my body.
‘Please,’ I beg, hovering my ear above Valenti
na’s mouth. It’s impossible for me to tell if Valentina is breathing. The sounds of the garden and my own ragged breathing overpower any sound coming from her. The others clamour around us.
‘Get away. She needs space.’ I flap my arms to get them to step away. I turn back to Valentina. ‘Please be alive. Please.’
I stretch two fingers to Valentina’s neck. My stomach tightens as I hope against hope that Valentina is still alive. My fingers are like a hot poker as I press them against Valentina’s neck. Her skin is like ice and I pull my hand away.
‘No, no, no, please no.’ The cold of Valentina’s body sends a shiver through me.
Tentatively, I press my fingers against Valentina’s neck once more and feel for a pulse. I close my eyes, hoping against hope.
Oh my God.
I pull my fingers back in alarm. All the signs point otherwise but Valentina isn’t dead; there is a pulse. A slow, erratic pulse but it is there, signalling that we haven’t lost her yet.
‘She’s alive,’ I shout to more than just the other Islanders, to an audience unseen. ‘Valentina. Can you hear me, Valentina?’ Valentina gives no response, not even so much as a gurgle. I bite my lip; she’s on the cusp. We are so close to losing her. But not if I can help it.
‘Valentina, it’s Kimberley. I’m going to help you, OK?’
Valentina’s cold skin, erratic heartbeat, limp body are all the signals of someone who’s taken an overdose, so she may have been poisoned. I don’t know how or with what, or how long she has got before it kills her. But I know what I need to do.
I lean over Valentina. Her body looks as small and fragile as it is possible for her to look; she’s like a baby bird that’s fallen from its nest. I grit my teeth. I have to save her. Balling my fist, I press it against Valentina’s chest. Using my knuckles, I rub hard over Valentina’s sternum. My hope is that the pain will stimulate Valentina to consciousness.
My knuckles grow warm from the friction of skin on skin. I clench my teeth, biting back the searing pain in my hand. The movement is beginning to burn.
The Islanders Page 16