Page 74 of Below the Deck

Mlle Stevens: I mean, I could take a guess. The suspect’s, obviously. And you’d have found Talia’s and Rory’s, perhaps – it was in their room, so they could have touched it. You could have found mine too, or Johanna’s. We might have picked it up when cleaning.

M Robert: I see. And, yes – that’s what we’d have expected. But we found no trace of any fingerprints on the sculpture at all, except for Sam’s. It was as though the object had been meticulously cleaned before he used it.

Mlle Stevens: Actually, that makes sense. We sterilize all the objects in every cabin before a new charter, using alcohol wipes. And it’s completely possible that Talia and Rory never actually touched it.

M Robert: Of course. Can you tell me anything about your relationship with the deceased?

Mlle Stevens: I didn’t have a relationship with him.

M Robert: Of course – let me put this another way. We have learned, through footage retrieved from theLussoas well as your own personal text exchanges, that you had some involvement with Nick Michaelides. What was your opinion of him based on this, if you can say?

Mlle Stevens: He wasn’t … I suppose there’s no point in lying to you. I didn’t like him. He’d harassed me since the first day of the charter. He kept trying to get me alone – he even got into the crew cabins. So, yeah – it was annoying. I just did my best to avoid him, as much as I could.

M Robert: Understandably. That sounds very difficult. With all of your frustration and distress, you must have become angry – and afraid. I understand you were so upset that you didn’t feel able to work one morning. That sounds more than just … annoying.

Mlle Stevens: Chief, I’m not sure what you’re trying to say. Do you think – are you suggesting I had something to do with his death? The murderer was literally caught in the act, by all of us – we found him right next to Nick’s body. I don’t understand why you’re even—

M Robert: Well, despite the overwhelming evidence, the suspect is repeatedly proclaiming his innocence. And even if we accept things on … face value, there is still the question of motive. Why would Sam want Nick dead? Is that something you can help me with?

Mlle Stevens: I’m not sure I … why are you asking me this?

M Robert: I’m just asking questions, mademoiselle – it’s my job to investigate every possibility. There are no implications – yet. But not everything in this story makes sense to me. And I’m afraid none of you are leaving here until it does.

LUCY

Lucy pulled the bathroom door closed behind her, whipped off her blue plastic gloves and bundled them into a ball that she clenched in one fist. She clung on to the door handle – any second now, Sam would start trying to get out – and inhaled until her lungs felt ready to burst.

Just then, with timing so perfect Lucy couldn’t have engineered it better herself, there was a humming sound and the lights above her head flickered to life. It was so bright she closed her eyes on instinct; when she blinked them open again, she knew she had no time to lose.

In one exhausting, terror-filled scream, she yelled: ‘HELP! Somebody stop Sam – please!’

On cue, Talia burst through the door of the master stateroom, an elegant silk scarf wrapped loosely at her throat, and joined Lucy in pulling at the bathroom door handle, using all her strength to keep it closed. Sam was banging on the other side of the door now, raging and screaming, yanking at his own door handle.

Eleni raced into the room from her cabin, caught Lucy’seye and gave her a brief nod, then turned and ran along the passageway, yelling down the steps leading to the engine room: ‘Michaela – Captain Taylor – we need help! Please come now!’

There was the sound of thundering footsteps, and then Mark came into the cabin, froze on the spot and stared at Lucy, wide-eyed in panic and confusion.

‘Lucy? What’s happened – are you okay? Why are you holding the bathroom door?’

Lucy’s pulse was racing; she tried to breathe through the panic that was knotting up her stomach.This has to work, it has to work …

‘It’s Sam – he’s in there with Nick – he had a weapon! Please, help me keep this door closed – we need to keep him trapped inside …’

‘What?’ Mark lunged forward, pushed Lucy out of the way. It looked like he was about to swing open the door, when heavy footsteps pounded along the passageway and a calm, authoritative voice rang through the dim shadows of the master stateroom.

‘I’ll take it from here, please. Mark, Lucy – I need you to stand back.’ It was the captain, flanked by Michaela and the first officer, Brett.

Unnoticed in the chaos, Lucy stepped back towards Michaela, opened her fist and waited for the stewardess to take the scrunched-up gloves from her hand. In one smooth movement they were gone, ready for Michaela to bag along with her own pair, and the cloth she’d used to meticulously clean the sculpture with ethanol fluid, removing any trace of Eleni’s prints before placing it outside the master stateroom door for Lucy to give to Sam.

Now Michaela would slip away to the galley, put something heavy in the bag to weight it down – a saucepan, a cooking utensil,anything– then drop it all into the waste disposal hatch that led straight down into the churning waters of the ocean.

Lucy breathed a sigh of relief – and then Captain Taylor stepped in front of her and flung open the door.

The bathroom ahead of them was a tableau of horror. Under the glare of the ceiling lights, Lucy took in the blood that spread across the floor, where Nick lay sprawled, head lolling to one side, eyes staring vacantly ahead, a puddle of crimson pooled around his neck and shoulders.

Sam was kneeling facing the door, staring up into all their faces, the sculpture next to his feet, his face a picture of shock and terror.

For a heartbeat there was only silence – and then: ‘Oh my God – Nick!’ Eleni burst into racking, heaving sobs. ‘What have you done to him?’