‘Eat,’ I say, unsure what else to offer them. ‘It isn’t easy to think on an empty stomach.’ The Islanders give me weak smiles and begin to take meaningful bites this time. It’s as if all they needed was permission to proceed, to be told it is OK to be fearful and to grieve and for your body to still want to go about its normal functions. The small glasses of wine gave me permission and I’m only too glad to pass that on to the others.
‘Thank you, Mo,’ says Rosalind. ‘This is really delicious.’
‘You’re welcome,’ he says and raises his glass.
‘To our last supper,’ I say. I’m the only one who raises my glass to clink with Mo. As our glasses connect, there’s a sound, much louder than is warranted by glass on glass.
What was that?
I narrow my eyes; Mo’s mouth falls open in a silent scream, gawping at something behind me. Carly mirrors Mo. Rosalind spins around in her seat, following their gaze.
What is it this time?
The question lacks the same intense concern as it would have earlier. I slam my glass onto the table, let out an exaggerated sigh and turn around, ready to once again attend an audience with the judge. I’m wrong to treat this so lightly.
The image that awaits me sends a shiver down my spine. The Judge sits there, still wearing his black gown and his white wig. His face is still pixelated but he’s holding something in his left hand. It’s an hourglass. Golden sand slips from the top half into the bottom half; there’s barely any sand left. Another reminder that time’s almost up.
‘Kimberley, I’m disappointed in you. The viewers are disappointed in you. Drinking wine during an investigation? If that’s what they taught you in the police force, then it’s no wonder our justice system is on its knees.’
The sound of silverware rings out. My blood runs cold and I whirl around. My eyes scan the others: Rosalind, Carly, Mo and Daniel. It’s Mo. Everyone’s eyes are on Mo, like he’s an unexploded bomb. There’s something very wrong in his expression.
Mo sinks lower in his chair; his knees graze the ground. Two hands clasped around his throat. His mouth flaps, making him look like a fish that’s been dragged out of the water and left to suffocate on dry land. His breathing is ragged as he gasps for air.
My chair is flung behind me as I leap upwards and run to him, pushing him onto his back. It looks like he’s having an allergic reaction; he’s going into anaphylactic shock.
My heart is beating wildly and the meal churns in my belly, but the adrenaline focuses me, cutting through the effects of the food and wine.
‘Adrenaline,’ I shout.
‘What? What should we do?’
‘Rosalind, where’s the first aid kit? He’s having an allergic reaction. We need an EpiPen.’ Rosalind’s on her feet. She says something to me, but I can’t hear her. All I hear is the sound of my own heartbeat. ‘Rosalind, get the first aid kit. Now. Carly, go and check Mo’s bag, he’s sure to have brought his own with him. Mo, can you hear me? It’s Kim.’
But Mo doesn’t respond. He’s lost consciousness. I place the heel of my hand on Mo’s chest. Then positioning myself so I’m hovering over him, I press down hard and fast.
My breathing gets heavy from the effort of pumping. Where the hell are the others? As if on cue, Rosalind comes running toward me. Her cheeks are flushed and her hair flies wildly about her as she sprints towards me. But it’s her hands I notice. Her hands are empty save for a small packet.
‘The pens are gone. But there were antihistamines.’
‘Antihistamines? Have you seen him?’ I snap at her.
‘I thought…’ Rosalind stops short and lets her hands drop to her sides.
‘Go and find Carly, she might have them.’ She nods and scurries away. I was too sharp with her; she was only trying to help. The muscles in my arms are burning. I don’t know how much longer I can continue this.
‘Here,’ says Daniel. ‘Let me.’ Daniel kneels beside me and slips his hands in underneath mine. I pull away but stay close, to guide Daniel through this. But he doesn’t need my guidance. His hands pump downwards, short and sharp.
‘Come on, Mo. Don’t give up.’ Daniel is panting now as he continues to pump up and down, up and down. I switch with him. ‘Come on, buddy.’ Tears pool in my eyes, splashing further down my face with each movement. The flush that appeared in Mo’s cheeks in the first stages of his anaphylaxis have gone, the colour dying with him.
I can’t help myself, but I glance up at the countdown clock. There is less than one minute remaining but it doesn’t matter. One minute won’t save Mo; neither will another hour. Without proper medical help, Mo is never going to survive.
I slump forward and rest my head on Mo’s broad chest. His chest is warm, from the shock and our aggressive attempts at resuscitation. The warmth will soon leave it, never to return. Mo is dead and there are now only four of us.
Chapter Thirty-Six
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Reply to Contact Me form
Message:
Hi Tristram,
Thank you for getting in touch. I’m very sorry to hear what happened to you and your family, what a horrible thing for a person to do, especially one whom you let into your home. I’m currently working on something that I think you might be interested in, do let me know if you still want to get your own back.
Best,
JD
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Kimberley
Sunday 27th July, 15:35
0 Minutes Until Next Murder
The alarm sounds, signalling that our hour is over. Pushing myself to my feet, I don’t look at the others but storm to the kitchen.
The cauldron-sized pot Mo used to prepare the meatballs sits on the steel hob. Around its rim the remaining bits of the tomato sauce cling, dried and crusty. But, aside from this one dish, the marble work surface around the hob is spotless. It would almost be impossible to know that someone has cooked.
‘Why is everything so clean? Where are the empty packages or the chopping boards?’
Daniel’s forehead crumples in confusion as if he thinks I’ve completely lost my mind.
‘Why are you asking this?’
‘Because I want to know what the hell in a meal prepared by Mo killed him. It was meatballs, for God’s sake – Mo was allergic to shellfish.’
‘Mo asked us to tidy up as he cooked,’ says Rosalind, taking a step backwards so half her body is covered by Daniel’s. ‘I did the washing up and Carly was clearing everything up.’
‘Where’s the bin?’ I snap and Carly points towards a spot at the end of the kitchen. I storm towards it, rip off its lid, and peer inside. There are empty tins of chopped tomatoes, garlic peel, bottle top after bottle top. Deeper into the bin I go, throwing the bulkier items over my shoulder to get them out of my way. Then I find what I’m looking for: a miniature glass bottle, empty of its contents. I pull it out and thrust it towards the others. ‘This is what killed him. My God, this one was so simple. Slip in oyster sauce to the meal and boom, goodbye Mo.’
The others stand motionless. The survivors – Daniel Oni, Carly Chu and Rosalind Jenkins – stare at me. Daniel’s forehead is cut with deep frown lines as he narrows his eyes at me; Carly’s lips are drawn so thin they’ve almost disappeared; and Rosalind’s face is as white as a sheet and she edges ever closer to Daniel.
‘What?’ I ask. ‘What is it?’ My hair stands on end. The horror of the other three isn’t directed at Mo’s lifeless body or the bottle I’m holding in my hand. I can feel that their horror is directed at me. The three of them look at one another as if of one mind.
‘What’s happening?’ I ask again, my voice fluttering.
Why are they looking at me like this? I scan my eyes down over my own body. Am I dying too? Is that what they’re looking at? But there are no wounds; physically, I feel unchanged.
‘You,’ whimpers Rosalind, lifting a trembling finger to
point at my chest. ‘You told him. Us.’ If Rosalind expects me to understand what she means by this, I don’t. Carly’s mouth pulls even tighter and she reaches out a hand to grab Rosalind’s wrist.
‘What are you talking about?’ I stare at the three of them, trying to decipher the meaning behind their horrified expressions.
‘You,’ bellows Rosalind. ‘You said you were hungry, you practically instructed Mo to cook. And then when he did you told us to eat. You said it would be easier to think once we’d eaten.’
‘Oh my God,’ I whisper, my shoulders tensing at the accusation. ‘I didn’t… I wasn’t even cooking. How can you think this is me?’
‘It’s been you,’ says Daniel, his face slack. ‘It’s been you all along.’
My skin grows hot as if it can feel Daniel’s disappointment. Daniel was my ally, the only person who truly tried to help me and now even he’s betrayed me.
‘You knew Mo was having an allergic reaction and you sent them to get EpiPens that you knew weren’t there. Did you enjoy watching us panic?’
‘All this time, I thought you were trying to help us,’ says Carly.
‘No—’ I try to stop them, but I’m interrupted.
‘Save it,’ says Rosalind, her nostrils flaring. ‘I trusted you. We all trusted you.’
‘What the hell are you talking about? And Carly, less than an hour ago you didn’t want anything to do with Mo. Suddenly you’re mourning his death?’
‘The Judge has shown me that the truth can change depending on the angle,’ snarls Carly. ‘But from every angle, you look guilty. The Judge even said it. You’re a murderer.’
My throat is dry, and I wring my hands together in a move that probably makes me look guilty. How can they think this of me? It’s so wrong.
Carly, Rosalind and Daniel crowd together and I’m forced to watch as they whisper among themselves. They’re deciding my fate and there’s nothing I can do to stop them. We’re one step away from descending into Lord of the Flies and the death of poor Piggy.
I almost wince at the irony that the victim in that crime had the same name as the worst nickname given to my people, police officers. To them, I too am nothing more than a pig.
The group breaks apart and Daniel marches towards me. He wraps his fingers around my arm and I inhale sharply as his nails dig into me.
‘Ow, what are you doing? Let go of me!’
Daniel looks down at me; his eyes are wild like a horse startled by a bird flying up out of long grass. And, like a horse, his fear makes him dangerous. I soften my tone; I need to be gentle with him before he completely loses control. ‘Daniel,’ I say softly, ‘please, you know I wouldn’t do this. Please let go of me, you’re hurting me.’
‘What shall we do with her?’ he shouts over my head to the others, ignoring my plea. His hand is warm against my skin and he holds on so tightly that my arm begins to throb. The connection we built in this hellhole has gone, snuffed out like a short-lived candle.
‘What?’ I twist to look up at him, thrown off-kilter by his words. And for a split second of blind panic I think they want to harm me. Get rid of me to save themselves. Rosalind and Carly exchange glances, as clueless as Daniel.
‘We can lock her in the bedroom. The private one,’ says Rosalind, forcefully looking at Daniel and not at me. ‘That one’s got a real lock, not an electrical one.’
‘No.’ I’m shouting now. They can’t lock me away; I need to find a way to defend myself. They need me, I see that now. Granted, I haven’t done a great job at protecting them up until now, but my gut tells me that without me, things will be worse. I twist my arm, trying to wrench it free from Daniel’s grip. My skin burns as it stretches under his fingers. But the pain’s overwhelmed by a fear of what might happen without me. They need me. They need me to save them.
‘No,’ I shout again, my voice stronger with each shout. I have more conviction. ‘You can’t lock me up. You’ve got this wrong. You need me, you know you do.’
‘It’s you, you’re doing this,’ shouts Rosalind, her hands on her head, her fingers knotting into her hair. She’s in danger of ripping it out; she looks so frantic.
‘You can’t possibly think I’m responsible for this,’ I say to them. But Carly and Rosalind turn away as Daniel drags me from the pool area. ‘This is ridiculous. You need me.’
I stick my feet into the grass, making it as difficult as possible for Daniel to pull me; I won’t comply with him. I need them to understand. I’m not responsible for this and I won’t abandon them without a fight.
It becomes increasingly apparent that I will need to fight. I let my legs go slack, using the weight of them to drag myself towards the ground, making it more difficult for Daniel to hold me up by the arm.
‘Listen, this is not me. This is bigger than me, bigger than any of us. We need to stick together. To work through this together.’
‘I don’t want you anywhere near me,’ yells Carly. Rosalind places a hand on Carly’s arm as if to keep Carly at a safe distance, as if I’m an uncaged animal that could fly at them at any moment.
‘I am not a murderer. I am a police officer.’
‘A police officer who left the force under a cloud,’ spits Rosalind. ‘Why aren’t you being honest with us, Kim? We’ve all been honest with you.’
‘You’re a liar and you’re dangerous,’ shouts Daniel breathlessly. He’s tiring against my struggle. He loosens his grip on my arm for a split second and I take advantage of it. I scramble to my feet, launching myself away from him and head towards the pool. They need to understand.
‘Ow!’ I cry as something strikes my ankle and I trip. A sharp pain shoots through my knees as they collide forcefully with the floor. Daniel had swung his leg out to trip me over and he succeeded. I crumple on the floor, pulling my knees into my chest. I’m winded from the shock as much as the pain. I lie on the grass, breathing heavily, unable to right myself, letting the grass prick my cheeks uncomfortably.
Daniel’s hands hook my armpits roughly and he pulls me away like a limp ragdoll. He drags me away from Carly and Rosalind, across the grass, across the flagstones, past the kitchen and into the villa.
‘Ros, where am I taking her?’ asks Daniel.
‘I’ll show you.’ Rosalind hurries behind us. I stare at her, trying to get her attention, trying to get her to understand.
‘Daniel, Rosalind, please,’ I cry. ‘Look at me. I wouldn’t do this. You know I wouldn’t do this.’ Rosalind keeps her chin held high, purposefully avoiding my gaze, directing Daniel through the villa to the site of the private bedroom. ‘Daniel,’ I say again. If anyone is going to listen to me, the man I shared a kiss with is my best bet.
‘I don’t know you wouldn’t do this,’ whispers Daniel in an angry breath. ‘I don’t know you at all.’ I crane my neck up at him. His fingers dig deeper into my flesh. His lip quivers almost imperceptibly and his eyes shine, glazed by tears. My stomach clenches; I’ve seen that look before.
I’ve failed him, betrayed him. And the worst part is, maybe he’s right. I might not have killed Jack, Valentina, Sophia or Mo but I sure as hell did a shitty job at protecting them.
I can’t let it end like this. Like a lightning bolt to the brain, I know with absolute certainty that if they lock me in the bedroom, I will never see them alive again and there’s no room in my conscience for any more deaths.
So I’ve got two choices: give up or fight. And this time, I decide to fight. I will find out who is doing this, and I will save the others. I screw my face up and clench my stomach and with all the power I can muster I kick, launching my legs up into the air. Daniel huffs from the effort of restraining me and I kick again.
‘Listen to me,’ I cry out. ‘This is madness. I didn’t do this. Ow!’ Daniel digs his fingernails hard into my skin. ‘Daniel, stop it.’
‘Shut up,’ growls Rosalind, her eyes blazing with renewed anger.
‘This is a huge risk. You… need… me. We’re guilty. We’re all guilty o
f something. That’s what the Judge wants me to find out.’ The effort of shouting and kicking makes me pant but I don’t relent. I won’t relent, not until they listen to me.
We’re inside the villa now. The smooth marble floor made it impossible for me to find anything to slow our progress. I kick my legs outwards, trying to use them to wedge my body in between the walls but it has zero effect. Instead the skin on my feet tears as they scrape along the wall. Daniel stops, and Rosalind tries to slip past me to open the bedroom door. I kick out my leg at her. It collides with Rosalind’s soft stomach. Rosalind doubles over and groans, her hand clutching her middle.
‘You bitch,’ spits Rosalind.
‘Sorry, that was an accident,’ I splutter. I wasn’t trying to hurt her, but it doesn’t look good. Striking Rosalind in the stomach doesn’t exactly help my cause. ‘I wanted to stop her; you can’t lock me up. It’s a mistake. It’s a huge mistake.’ In my desperation to get them to listen to me, I’m only making matters worse.
Daniel pulls me further, past the door, so that Rosalind can slip the key into the lock.
The door creaks open. I cry out as pain rips through my shoulders.
‘Not that it matters at all. But I really did like you,’ says Daniel. And with that, he hoists me into the air and throws me onto the bed.
Thwack.
White-hot pain sears through my brain as the back of my head strikes against something solid. Through the haze of my disorientation, a fuzzy body grabs the handle of the door. It swings shut. My body sways and, like curtains closing, everything goes dark.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
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