LITMIR.BIZ

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but that’s okay. That other woman. Julia—or whatever her name is. She’s already confessed to the murder. Hasn’t she?’

      Richard decided this was a question that did not need answering.

      ‘Then can you tell me,’ he continued, ‘how long were you all lying down and listening to the sounds of the deep before you started coming round?’

      ‘Ten minutes,’ Ben said. ‘Fifteen at the most.’

      ‘Really? That’s quite a precise figure.’

      ‘I checked my watch when we went into the room. It was a quarter to eight. I reckon we all drank tea for about ten minutes, so that means we lay down and put the headphones on some time before eight. And when we started coming round, I looked at my watch and it wasn’t much past 8.10am.’

      ‘So you were all wearing eye masks and listening to music on headphones the whole time you were lying down?’

      The witnesses all agreed, and Richard took a moment to look at them all again.

      Saskia had only spoken once, but Richard could see that she was meeting his gaze evenly, her hands folded neatly on her lap, her back straight. She looked worried—upset, even—but these were quite natural reactions; she didn’t look like she was hiding anything.

      As for Ann, she’d followed what she could of the conversation like someone watching a tennis match for the first time—and without any idea of what the rules were. If she was guilty of anything, Richard mused to himself, it wasn’t going to be of having a razor-sharp intellect.

      And then there was Paul. Richard still couldn’t quite work out how someone so drab—so ‘middle management’—could have such an apparent hold over his wife. After all, the way Richard saw it, Paul was just one toothbrush moustache away from being the spit of Roger Hargreaves’s Mr Fussy.

      Which left only Ben, and Richard continued to be quietly puzzled by him. Why was his manner so off-hand?

      This made Richard remember what he had to ask next.

      ‘Can I ask,’ he said, ‘who here is left-handed?’

      The witnesses looked at Richard, surprised, but they were all happy to tell him that they were all right-handed.

      Richard took a moment to consider the significance of this fact. After all, it already looked as though the wounds in the victim’s neck and back had to have been inflicted by someone who’d been wielding the knife right-handed. So how come the only person who’d confessed to the murder was the only person in the room who was left-handed?

      ‘Then one last question, if you don’t mind. Can any of you imagine why Julia—or anyone else for that matter—would have wanted to harm Aslan Kennedy?’

      The witnesses said that they had no idea. After all, as they put it, none of them had ever been to Saint-Marie before, they barely knew Aslan.

      ‘And I only arrived on the island last night,’ Saskia said. ‘The first time I even met Aslan was this morning.’

      ‘Really?’ Richard said.

      ‘That’s right,’ she said, but Richard noticed that Saskia had something else on her mind. Something was troubling her.

      ‘And?’ he asked.

      Saskia looked at Richard, unsure, and Richard decided that the dutiful secretary needed to be told what to do.

      ‘If you have any information that may have a bearing on the case, you’re obliged to mention it.’

      ‘No, of course,’ she said, suitably chastened. ‘And it may be nothing, but yesterday, after I arrived, I got a bit lost in the hotel and I found myself outside Aslan’s office. Although the door was closed, I could hear voices inside. Raised voices.’

      ‘What time was this?’

      ‘About 6pm I think,’ Saskia said.

      ‘And you’re sure it was Aslan’s office?’

      ‘Oh yes. But the thing is, the voice I heard belonged to a man, but I don’t think it was Aslan. Anyway, I heard this man say “You’re not going to get away with it!”‘

      ‘You did?’

      ‘That’s right. And he was angry. But I heard it quite distinctly. “You’re not going to get away with it!” he said. And a few moments later, the door opened and I saw Aslan flee. He looked seriously distressed.’

      ‘You didn’t see who he left behind in the office?’

      ‘No. The whole thing was so strange, I didn’t hang about to find out who the man was who’d been shouting at Aslan.’

      Richard considered what Saskia had said before turning to look at Ben and Paul.

      ‘I don’t suppose either of you were in Aslan’s office yesterday shouting at him at 6pm, were you?’

      Paul looked affronted.

      ‘Certainly not.’

      ‘So can you tell me? Where were you at 6pm yesterday?’

      Paul had to think for a moment before he answered. ‘I was down at the beach. Wasn’t I, darling?’

      Ann looked at her husband, uncomprehending. ‘You were?’

      ‘Of course I was!’ Paul said, exasperated. ‘I was with you.’

      It took Ann a moment to register this fact. ‘Oh, of course!’ she eventually said. ‘That’s right. We were both down on the beach, weren’t we?’

      Richard found himself briefly wondering why it took Ann so long to remember that she and Paul had been on the beach together. Had she really forgotten?

      Richard turned to Ben and waited for his answer.

      ‘Alright,’ Ben said, ‘I was in my room. On my own.’

      ‘So you’re saying that no one can alibi you for about 6pm yesterday evening?’

      Ben looked at Richard with the first hint of irritation.

      ‘That’s right. I went to my room at about five for a bit of a lie down. I’d had too much sun. I then didn’t leave my room until seven when I came down for dinner. But I don’t need an alibi, I didn’t kill Aslan Kennedy.’

      ‘I see,’ Richard said, making a note of this fact.

      Richard decided he’d got enough from the witnesses for the moment. At the very least, he needed to corroborate what they’d so far said with Aslan’s wife, so he thanked the witnesses for their time, told them that an officer would be asking them to write out their formal statements later on, and then he went off to find Camille.

      She was upstairs comforting the grieving widow in her bedroom.

      Richard felt himself relax as soon as he entered Rianka and Aslan’s bedroom. The shuttered windows let in only the thinnest stripes of sunlight, the dark floorboards were polished and cool, and a ceiling fan ticked lazily overhead. There was even an aspidistra in a pot in the corner of the room, Richard noted with a sigh of quiet approval.

      Camille and Rianka looked up as he entered.

      ‘Mrs Kennedy?’ Richard asked.

      ‘Please … it’s Rianka.’

      Richard took a moment to consider Rianka. She was slender, her hands were elegant and long-fingered, her grey hair was fixed behind her head with two chopsticks, and while her clothes were colourful and ethnic, she herself appeared quiet and demure. Prim, even. Even so, it was easy to see the beautiful young woman who had turned into this beautiful sixty-something-year-old woman.

      A woman who was now experiencing the shock of sudden grief, her cheeks tear-stained, her eyes wet with pain.

      ‘I’m sorry to intrude, but I do have a few questions.’

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