Cold Grave (20 page)

Back inside, Jasmine was still at the grand piano with Ben. His attention span was remarkable, as was Jasmine’s under the circumstances. She was teaching him to play a simple version of ‘Für Elise’.

Anya bent down and stroked the back of her son’s hair.

‘Jasmine taught me.’ He beamed and played again. ‘Watch this.’
They played together. This obviously took more concentration, judging by the way he held his tongue out to the side of his mouth.

‘He’s very musical,’ Jasmine commented.

‘Please keep going, it’s wonderful.’

Martin was in the kitchenette and beckoned Anya over. ‘How’s Carlos?’

‘Apparently he’s still unconscious, so can’t be interviewed yet.’ She wondered if the ongoing sedation was ordered by Mats Anderson or FitzHarris. ‘His body’s been through a significant trauma with the shooting, surgery, and he’s at risk of infection.’

‘Maybe it’s a good thing he doesn’t know yet.’ Martin sidled past her to the coffee pot and lifted it. ‘Like one?’

Anya sat at the smoky glass table. ‘Thanks.’

‘It’s not the best brew, but it beats going out for a latte in the rain.’

He placed the cup on a coaster and helped himself to one.

Anya looked out at the deck and beyond. FitzHarris had been ordered to sabotage the investigation, while keeping an eye on her. She wanted to confront him, but knew it was better to do as her father would say, ‘Keep your powder dry until you absolutely need it.’ The swell had increased. Water from the pool swished over the edge as wind buffeted the closed umbrellas. Lounge chairs were stacked in piles. Giant drops of rain pelted the floor-to-ceiling windows in rushes. They eased for a few moments then rallied again.

Jasmine played Ben the beginning phrases of ‘The Entertainer’ by Scott Joplin, and he looked mesmerised. Anya wasn’t sure if it was the music or the pianist he liked more.

With the pair distracted, Anya could speak quietly but more freely. ‘Lilly was last seen by one of those men in the bowling shirts. He wore a yellow shirt with “Genny” written on the back.’

‘I had a run-in with him that first night when I asked them to turn the music down. I thought he was going to thump me, until the guy in green stepped in and gave him another drink.’

‘There’s something I need to ask.’ Anya shot a look at Ben and Jasmine. They were engrossed in the piano tune. ‘You mentioned there was a couple having sex in the corridor. Could that have been Lilly?’

Martin stared into the mug, trying to recall. ‘No, way. That woman had blonde hair.’

‘Did you see this Genny in his room or in the corridor?’

‘It was outside. I remember, ’cause he came out and closed the door. He had a towel around his waist, but he still came out.’

Anya took a slow sip. Genny may not have wanted anyone to see who or what was going on inside. ‘We think Lilly might have been in there sometime around midnight. Four men – including Genny, whatever his real name is are registered.’

Martin covered his eyes. ‘Look, Annie, if I’d known they were hurting her inside that cabin . . .’

Anya rested a hand on his arm. ‘Unless she screamed for help, how could you possibly have known?’

‘She was just a child. You saw how small she was. I’d only have to have seen her to realise something was wrong.’

Maybe someone else on the corridor had seen, or heard something, Anya thought. There was a family and another party in adjacent rooms. Surely someone could give them a clue.

The doorbell to the suite rang and Ben jumped up from the piano stool. ‘I’ll get it.’

‘No!’ Anya was swiftly at his side. ‘You shouldn’t answer the door to anyone but one of us.’ Even if he could reach, there was no peephole.

‘Yes, Mum.’ He still wanted to see who was there.

David FitzHarris stood behind the woman Anya had met in the library. Doctor Chan looked tired and drawn. Relief spread across her face when she saw Jasmine. The pair exchanged words in Cantonese as Jasmine hugged her mother, who stepped back and lifted up the hem of the oversized top her daughter wore.

‘Mother, I was cold and wet and Anya kindly gave me this to change into.’

The woman shot a glance at the other man in the room, who stood by the table.

‘This is Martin, and their son, Ben,’ FitzHarris said. ‘This family has been very kind. More than you know.’

Anya watched for a hardness in his expression, but his tone sounded sincere. He was very good at playing people – until now.

‘Thank you for looking after my daughter. I had some important . . . I had to make many calls back to home. Come, Jasmine.’

‘I was hoping we could have a conversation, in private,’ FitzHarris said to Doctor Chan. ‘Here’s a good place, if you don’t mind.’

Martin collected his and Ben’s jackets and headed out the door. ‘If you’ll excuse us, we have a speed date at the kids’ club. We’ll take the long way round and stay dry,’ he reassured Anya as they headed out.

Ben turned back. ‘Bye Jasmine, thanks for teaching me the piano.’

‘Maybe we can do it again some time.’

He ran and hugged his new friend tightly.

It was the first time Anya had seen Jasmine smile. Her face came to life and exuded warmth.

FitzHarris led Doctor Chan to the kitchen table.

He sat at one end, Anya at the other. Mother and daughter sat side by side.

FitzHarris cleared his throat. ‘I cannot apologise enough for the inconvenience you were put through last night. It’s no excuse, but again, I am deeply sorry and our staff will do everything to make it up to you.’

I’ll bet, Anya thought, with the tawdry bribes you’ve been instructed to offer.

He cleared his throat. ‘I’m here with some information about how Lilly died.’

Jasmine reached for her mother’s hand.

‘A blood test showed she had a small amount of alcohol and something else in her body. It’s a drug called GHB.’

‘What is it for?’ Doctor Chan asked. ‘I give the girls vitamins and sometimes they take medicine for a headache. Aspirin, that is all. They are healthy girls, as you can see.’

‘It’s not a medication, Ma’am. It is what’s called a recreational drug.’

Anya explained, ‘Gamma-Hyroxybutyric acid. It can be used to treat narcolepsy, but it is more often abused.’

Doctor Chan’s eyes squinted. ‘My daughter was taking drugs? Is that what she snuck out for?’ She let go of Jasmine’s hand. ‘You knew this? Are you taking it too?’

‘No, Mother. Of course not. There’s no way either of us would take anything like that.’

‘Did your older sister give them to you?’ Doctor Chan pushed back her chair and stood. ‘I know she smokes. You can smell it on her. That is why I keep you away from her bad influence. I always tell you. Nothing good can come of Western ways.’ She turned her back to the table and stopped. She took a few deep breaths. ‘I don’t want to hear any more.’

‘Ma’am, I mean Doctor Chan, I’m afraid you need to. We don’t think Lilly willingly took the drug. It’s possible someone put it in her drink.’

Doctor Chan turned back and stabbed a finger on the tabletop. ‘Alcohol, drugs, there is no difference. I warned the girls this could happen.’

‘Doctor Chan,’ Anya tried. ‘It seems as though Lilly was at the disco, dancing with another girl who has blonde hair and wore a hair band with a sequined piece on top.’

Jasmine looked between Fitz and Anya. ‘It sounds like the girl from the table near us in the restaurant. Kandy, I think her name is. She’s with her parents and said hello that first dinner.’

‘I remember. She was rude to her father. No respect. Chinese children would never speak to a parent like that.’

‘Come on, Mother, you know that’s not true. You and Lilly say the most awful things to each other. You fight all the time.’ Her eyes became misty. ‘I hate it.’

Doctor Chan slowly took her seat. ‘We argue, that is all. Lilly refuses to practise and I yell at her until she does. It is the way we are.’ She corrected, ‘We were . . .’ She looked at Anya. ‘One minute we argued, then we would make up.’

‘Lilly hated the fights. She was sick of being made to play music. She wanted a different life. One with freedom and fun, like our sister has.’ Jasmine’s voice trailed off. ‘She hated what you did to us.’

‘Do you think I like it?’ Doctor Chan’s voice became shrill. ‘Do you know how hard it is for me? I work hard at the hospital but my daughters mean everything. Who will dream for you if I don’t? Western mothers go out with friends, they enjoy themselves. Instead, I come home and make sure you practise.’

‘Lilly hated it.’

‘It is not my role to be popular. I do it because I am your mother.’

Jasmine suddenly excused herself and ran to the bathroom. The others sat in silence. Fitz stood.

‘I don’t know about you, but I could use a tea. Anyone mind if I make a pot?’

‘That’s a great idea. I’ll go see if Jasmine would like something.’ Anya headed to the downstairs bathroom and gently tapped on the door. ‘Are you okay?’

The door opened a small amount. ‘Everything’s wrong. I just had an accident.’

It took a moment for Anya to realise. ‘You mean you got your period?’

Jasmine nodded. ‘It’s come again. It’s supposed to have finished. I’m so sorry, I think I’ve ruined your leggings.’

Anya moved into the bathroom. ‘It’s not a problem. Hang on a minute and I’ll be back.’ She headed upstairs to her room and pulled out her toiletries bag. Inside she kept sanitary products for emergencies, which she took back down, along with another change of clothes.

‘It can happen with stress so don’t even think about it,’ Anya said gently, placing the clothes over the sink. Jasmine folded into her arms, gently sobbing, holding the bag the whole while.

‘We’ll have you fixed up in no time. No one has to know.’

‘Thank you,’ Jasmine pulled away and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of the top. ‘I gave Lilly my last pad before she went out that night. She’d run out.’

Anya’s mind whirred. ‘You and Lilly had your periods at the same time?’ Girls and women living in the same house often menstruated together, even if they were unrelated. For some reason, the cycles of women living in close contact frequently aligned.

Jasmine nodded with a puzzled expression.

‘So she was wearing underwear that night?’

‘Of course!’ Jasmine’s eyes darted between each of Anya’s and her mouth trembled. ‘What are you saying?’

She dropped the toiletries bag, suddenly aware of the implication.

18

After the Chans had returned to their cabin, FitzHarris arranged a meeting with Kandy and her parents in the Porpoise Club.

‘Thanks again for meeting us,’ Fitz said. ‘We really appreciate you taking time out from your vacation.’

Mr and Mrs Ratzenberg sat opposite at the table. Their daughter was dressed in black slim jeans and a long buttoned shirt. A thick layer of foundation attempted to obscure a row of pimples on her cheeks and chin line.

FitzHarris had asked Anya to sit in on the interview, with the hope that Kandy would relate better to her, particularly, given the sensitive nature of what they had to discuss. He would have preferred to have spoken with the girl away from her parents, but at sea there was little choice.

The father was a large man, not only in height but mass. The back of the chair tilted with the weight of his axe-handle shoulders. His wife wore a red-and-white striped top with red jeans. She could not have been more than five foot two. It always amazed Anya how such giant men were attracted to tiny women, and vice versa. In terms of offspring, the genetic combination was ideal.

‘This is Doctor Crichton, who is assisting me with enquiries.’

The family nodded politely.

‘What’s this about? Does it have something to do with that girl who died? The one from the table near ours?’

Anya watched Kandy, who blinked and looked at the floor in response to the comment.

‘We don’t know anything. Our Kandy said hello to her, but she didn’t say much. We tried being neighbourly but the mother wasn’t sociable.’