Page 44

Shortly after the chateaubriand arrived, I excused myself from the table. The steak was delicious, but I realized this might be the only time before we left the boat tomorrow that everyone was in one place, allowing me to slip away and explore their rooms.

No matter their protests, someone at this table was a killer, and I didn’t want to think about what might happen to me if that person caught me snooping.

No one asked where I was going, but as Samira moved aside to let me out of the banquette, I muttered something about needing to take my medicine.

I had no medicine, but I didn’t want anyone to wonder why I felt the need to go all the way downstairs, when there was a powder room on the other side of the game room, just a few steps away.

Unfortunately, the entry to the primary suite was up the stairs, which were in full view of the table, so instead I hurried down the staircase, hoping for the chance to pop into Cody’s and Allison’s rooms on the main deck.

But that was not to be, either, as the staff was busy in the lounge cleaning up our mess from earlier in the evening.

“Can I help you?” one of the girls asked as I passed.

“Just forgot something in my room,” I said.

I scurried down to the cabin level, relieved to find it quiet and empty, and slipped into my room, where I disconnected my phone from the charger and pocketed it.

I had just stepped back into the hallway when a crew girl carrying cleaning supplies came down the stairs.

She smiled at me as she went into Rémy’s room.

That left me a choice between Gisèle’s and Laurent’s rooms.

It was only becoming harder for me to be impartial about Laurent, so if he was involved in Tyson’s death, the sooner I found out about it, the better. With a furtive glance over my shoulder, I quietly opened the door to his cabin and slipped inside.

It was laid out exactly like mine, a queen-size bed centered in the room, the gym clothes he’d been wearing earlier left in a pile on the comforter, next to his open canvas duffel bag.

Feeling like a traitor, I ruffled through his stuff, relieved when I found nothing out of the ordinary.

I extracted a French paperback and flipped through it, but Laurent was apparently not a person who annotated as he read.

His bookmark, however, caught my attention.

It was a printed receipt from a company called EazyShip, for the amount of €3,950 for the transport of one 1995 Land Rover Defender from St. Barth’s to Port of Calais, France, departing on April 10.

That was roughly three weeks from now. Laurent hadn’t mentioned shipping his car back to France, but perhaps he was selling it, or giving it to a family member?

Regardless, I snapped a photo of the paper and replaced the book in the bag, then stepped into the hallway, taking comfort in the fact that I hadn’t found any incriminating evidence in his room.

I could hear the vacuum going in Rémy’s cabin, so I stole across the hallway to Gisèle’s.

Her room was a mirror of mine and Laurent’s, her silver hard-shell suitcase stowed in the corner, two dresses hanging in the closet.

The bathroom was spotless, her matching monogrammed toiletries and makeup bags resting on the counter.

I hoisted Gisèle’s suitcase onto the bed and unlatched it to find her clothes neatly folded inside.

I’d just started to go through a stack of T-shirts when I heard the door to Rémy’s room open and close.

I looked desperately around for a place to hide, but the closet was tiny, the bed built into the floor.

Praying that the maid would go into Laurent’s room, I darted into the bathroom, closing myself inside just as I heard the door open and someone enter.

I held my breath, listening to the maid whistle as she began to clean Gisèle’s room.

There was nowhere to hide in the tiny bathroom, not so much as a shower curtain.

I had to get rid of her before she came in and found me.

I swallowed my nerves.

“Excusez-moi,” I said in French, manipulating my voice as much as I could to sound like Gisèle’s. “I’m in the bathroom. Can you come back later please?”

“Oh!” I could hear the surprise in the girl’s voice. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you were here. I’ll come back.”

I breathed a sigh of relief as the door closed. I could hear her entering my cabin next door as I stepped into Gisèle’s bedroom and bent over her suitcase, quickly returning the items I’d removed to their places.

But as I restacked her T-shirts, I noticed that the bottom of the suitcase was uneven.

I removed the shirts once more and swept my hand over the nylon fabric. There was something under it, though there didn’t appear to be another packable compartment beneath. I moved her bag of swimsuits to see that the lining had been ripped at one end, the slash in the fabric hidden by clothes.

I reached my hand into the slit, and my fingers immediately struck what felt like a stack of paper bills. My jaw dropped as I removed what, according to the band around it, was €10,000.

Jackpot.

I stuck my hand back into the suitcase and extracted another, then another, and another stack of hundreds. I’d taken out twenty-five stacks—amounting to two hundred fifty thousand euros—when I heard the door to my room open and close.

There was still more money in the compartment, and I could see the fabric on the other side had a rip in it as well, but I was running out of time.

I snapped a picture of the money I’d extracted, then put it all back, carefully arranging the clothes as they had been before returning the suitcase to its rightful place.

The gears in my brain turned as I stepped out of Gisèle’s room, my phone gripped tightly in my hand.

The cash had to be the €500K Tyson had pulled out of the bank to give his blackmailer at the missed meeting this evening.

I could think of no other reason Gisèle would have that much cash.

She must have taken it to hide it from the police before they searched the boat earlier.

Which raised two questions: First, was Samira aware she’d taken it? And second, did she—or they—know what it was intended for?

I realized the answer might be on the camera feed, but I still needed to hack into the Wi-Fi and download the software to connect to the cameras, which I knew would take me more time than I could afford to spend right now.

The maid was currently in Laurent’s cabin, but she’d already done Rémy’s, which meant I was probably safe there. With a glance over my shoulder, I slunk across the hallway into Rémy’s room, quietly closing the door behind me.

On the floor of his closet I found a black-and-gray Gucci overnight bag, which seemed extravagant for a dive instructor, but this was St.Barth’s.

God only knew what his going rate was. Inside were neatly folded clothes—all high-end labels—and a matching Gucci Dopp kit.

But the drawers were empty, and his phone was with him at the table.

Satisfied that his room contained no answers to the pug question, I checked my watch. Shockingly, I’d been gone only seven minutes. If I took the exterior stairs up to the primary level, I might just have time to do a quick sweep of Samira’s room before I returned to the table.

I flew up the stairs to find the crew vacuuming the main deck. No one paid any attention as I exited the side door.

The sky was dark, save for the moon reflecting on the black water.

I could see the gleam of St. Martin in the distance, and the twinkling lights of other boats at sea, but we were alone in our bay.

No floodlights blazed, the side deck lit only by the path lights as I stole toward the bow, where I’d noticed an exterior staircase earlier.

Outside, I quietly ascended the stairs, past the pickleball and basketball courts on the game level to the private deck off the primary level, where I paused, listening.

I could hear voices filtering up from the game room as I exited the stairwell.

The lights were dim on the deck but blazed inside the office, making it easy to determine that no one was inside.

I slipped through the hatch, my heartbeat thudding in my ears as I dashed toward Samira’s room like a thief in the night, casting furtive glances over my shoulder.

There was no denying I was up to something now, if I happened upon anyone.

I stood still for a moment at the door straining to hear whether there was anyone inside, and when I was satisfied it was empty, placed my hand on the doorknob and turned.