tonight. As for Nell, in her figure-hugging dress and elaborate hair … Both tall and young and glamorous. And similar, as if they’d been spat off a production line of generic gorgeous young things.
Jessie hates me, Johnny realized. She wants to murder me, and I deserve it.
Nell, bless her heart, had taken his arm and said, with sweet sincerity, ‘You often have the best time at something like this. When everything is perfect, you might get wowed, but you don’t really relax. Here, we’re dead from laughing and we’re totally bonded.’
She was a very good-natured person. Nice: that was the word. Although someone had told him that ‘nice’ was an insult, these days. Still, Nell looked very beautiful this evening. Jessie was always banging on about how gorgeous she was, but until tonight, he hadn’t seen it. What was she doing with Liam, who was not nice? Not really.
He shouldn’t think these damning thoughts. He’d turn into his father.
Johnny had been partnered with one of The Other Six, a ‘Hollywood producer’, but he had Jessie under constant surveillance. She’d been paired with Liam and, although she was joining in with the general mockery, he knew she had a reservoir of cold rage set aside just for himself, to be delivered at some later, unknown date.
Christ, how hard would it have been to do this properly?
Jessie wasn’t generally high maintenance. She didn’t expect regular flowers and expensive presents. Yes, she spent a lot of money on holidays, but it was nearly always on group activities.
This was her fiftieth birthday and she had hinted. Heavily. She’d basically told him what to do and he hadn’t obeyed.
Could he put something else together quickly? It was way too late to organize a proper murder-weekend thing – that chalice was poisoned for ever.
How about taking her to Paris? But she’d know it was a bodge job. Actually, she didn’t even like Paris: she said French women were ‘scary bitches’. Wasn’t gone on Italian shop assistants either, he remembered. Something about someone being snotty in the Versace shop in Milan.
Where else did people go? Barcelona, everyone loved Barcelona. But it was a gastronomic hotspot and she’d probably start pestering chefs if they were there for more than half an hour …
When everyone had been paired up and given cryptic clues to solve, Inspector Pine said, ‘One hour. We must find this dastardly murderer before he – or she – strikes again! We meet back here at eleven and we will pool our findings.’
Then he left to do the washing-up.
‘High up in Switzerland.’ Nigel and Cara were looking at their ‘clues’.
‘One of the rooms must have a Swiss theme.’
‘It’s obviously outside.’ Nigel was insistent. ‘It’s got to do with a nearby hill.’
‘It’s someone’s room. They’ve planted incriminating things in people’s rooms and we’ve to find them.’
‘No. It must mean a mountain. Come on. Outside.’
Her broken tooth throbbed, her throat was raw, her ribs ached and her job was in jeopardy. ‘Seeing as you’re so great at this,’ she spoke quietly, ‘why don’t you just do it on your own?’ She made for her bedroom, where she had a wheelie-case half full of chocolate under the bed. Everyone would be busy for the next hour: she’d closet herself in the bathroom, where she could release the terrible tension in her chest.
Ferdia and Nell were on the first floor, following a clue about ‘the Empress’ when Nell’s phone beeped. She took a look and exclaimed, ‘That’s three now!’
‘Three whats?’
‘I texted people last night, putting feelers out for work on the theatre festival. Two directors got back today. Now it’s three.’ She’d been half convinced no one would ever want her again.
From nearby came an odd noise: stumbling followed by a hard bump.
‘What’s that?’ she asked. ‘Another murder?’
But that first bump was followed by several smaller rhythmic bangs, followed by a cry.
They looked at each other.
Nell blushed. ‘Is it … It sounds like two people …’
Colour crept up Ferdia’s face. ‘God … Should we just leave them to it?’
‘Maybe. I don’t know. Whose room is that?’
‘Cara’s.’
Another faint cry reached them.
‘I don’t think it’s shenanigans,’ Nell said. ‘It sounds … different.’
‘Should we go in?’ If it really was people having a quick ride, he would die. He knocked, and when there was no reply, carefully opened the door.
No one was to be seen, but when they pushed into the bathroom, Cara was on the floor. Her eyes were closed, her body was spasming and her legs were banging a plastic bin