Page 93 of Sunburned

Jennifer patted the seat beside her on the sofa opposite Gisèle and Samira. “We were all so worried about you.”

“Thanks,” I said, perching next to her.You catch more flies with honey.I forced a pained smile. “They got me patched up.”

Laurent made no attempt to disguise his wariness as he sat next to me, a German shepherd ready to attack. I couldn’t say it wasn’t attractive.

Rémy’s dart went wide of the target and he cursed, swaying as he lined up his next shot. He wasn’t the only one who seemed to have become a bit sloppier while I was being patched up. In fact, everyone but Jennifer appeared well oiled. Which could work to my advantage.

My head still pounded, though thanks to the glue and the pills, the pain wasn’t quite as sharp as it had been. I couldn’t give in to the cocktail of terror and exhaustion that swirled inside me. I was alone here, my fate hanging in the balance. One of these people wanted me dead, and no one but me—and possibly Laurent, if he was for real—seemed to give a shit.

“What happened when I went over the railing?” I asked, consciously not using the word “pushed.” A light touch was always more effective.

“I’d just come out of our room and was heading up here when I saw you fall,” Cody said, pulling his darts out of the target.

“Did you hear anything?” I asked. “A scuffle or a scream—”

Cody shook his head. “Nothing. I just saw a body, falling from the deck above. I didn’t even register it was you until I jumped in after you. Someone on the crew heard me shout ‘Man overboard’ and threw me the donut.”

“Were you with him?” I asked Jennifer.

She shook her head. “I was in our suite.”

Alone. No alibi. Though it was hard to imagine rabbit-like Jennifer overpowering me. Or getting the better of Tyson, for that matter, especially with her subpar diving skills.

“What about you guys?” I asked Samira and Gisèle. “Did you see or hear anything?”

They both shook their heads. “We were smoking on the sun deck,” Gisèle answered. “We heard the shouting after and came to see what happened.”

Of course. They’d been alone together, as they had when Samira’s last husband died. The thought gave me little comfort.

“What about you?” I asked Allison, wondering what fib she’d come up with to cover her tracks.

“I was in the powder room on the main deck,” she said. “The steak did not agree with me.”

It was a good lie. Simple, impossible to refute, a touch of embarrassment to prevent follow-up questions. And she showed no signs of dishonesty. But of course Allison would be a good liar.

“Did you see anything?” I asked Rémy.

“No, I was on the basketball court trying to get my phone to work,” Rémy admitted. At Cody’s disgruntled glance, he shrugged sheepishly. “Sorry. I was not able to call my partner and I know he is very worried about me.”

“Do you remember what you were doing before you fell?” Cody asked.

I shook my head, feigning memory loss, though I remembered exactly what I’d been doing.

“Maybe you saw something in the water and leaned too far over the railing,” Allison suggested.

“Or maybe one of you pushed her,” Laurent said.

“But why would any of us push her?” Samira asked.

I wasn’t about to admit to sneaking into their rooms. “Maybe the murderer wanted to use me as a scapegoat,” I suggested. “It’s a lot easier to pin a murder on someone who’s not around to protest.”

No one responded, the room so quiet that I could hear a motor somewhere out on the water.

Laurent rose and went to the bar, pouring himself a glass of Scotch. He leaned against the bar as he swilled it, looking more like someone who traveled on yachts than worked on them. His face was unreadable, his demeanor cool.

Not dissimilar to Allison, I realized.

Laurent was clearly a chameleon who was far sharper and more perceptive than the people he worked for realized. And there was thematter of whatever secret Tyson held over him. Could it have something to do with the car he was shipping back to France? Was he planning to make a break for it?