* * *
A short harrowing while later, the search is complete. ‘What do you mean Garry is missing?’ hisses Astrid as we gather round the captain, who is radioing the Turkish port authorities, speaking rapidly in Turkish and looking increasingly worried. ‘Why were you two arguing in the first place? What did you say to him? And why are you wearing a chastity belt? What’s going on?’
‘What didIsay tohim?’ I squeak. ‘Nothing. If anything, he was threatening me.’ I am not loving the finger-pointing that is going on here. Nor am I loving the fact that Tiffany went skipping off as soon as she winched me back on board, having established that Garry was not hiding in the waste pipe due to gallons of garbage shooting from the hole just as I approached.
The captain’s head whips round. ‘He threatened you?’ He turns away from me to murmur into the walkie-talkie radio he has in his hand while holding the curly cord with the other. ‘And what happened after that?’
‘Who are you talking to? Who wants to know? Is that head office?’
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I’m never going to realise my dream job of sitting opposite Jackson day in day out if they find out I’m caught up in yet another bit of bother. Surely Garry will turn up safe and sound.
The captain shakes his head. ‘The Turkish police.’
I can feel the blood drain from my face, and I have a lump the size of a turnip in my throat. ‘The police?’
‘They are on their way.’
* * *
Within what seems like minutes, the Turkish police arrive asking questions that no one can understand, and even worse, they order the boat to stay at sea. They seem to think that I am trussed up like a convicted prisoner rather than a concerned crew member willing to go to extraordinary lengths to find a missing supervisor. All I can think is that Garry is too conniving and boat-savvy to have simply slipped overboard himself. But the Hello Chicken family, they weren’t keen on him; could they have acted on it? I imagine they will be furious that Emir’s birthday party will be disrupted so I doubt it could have been them. And I dread to think what Jackson will make of it all. I hope he’s happy to wait for me at Selimiye Bay. I have no way of contacting him to tell him the boat has been delayed, because the captain is refusing to let me use his radio.
‘The police need to search the entire vessel,’ the captain explains. ‘They want everyone in one place. I need you to gather all the guests and staff into the dining area. Once you have finished whatever X-rated game you appear to be playing.’ His eyebrows remain near his hairline as he blinks disapprovingly at us.
Despite the lack of willing to take two bloody minutes to help me remove my nautical bondage gear, Tiffany, Shaun, Astrid and I jump to it, but it is easier said than done. It is like herding cats. None of the guests want to leave what they are doing. It is clear they want to continue holidaying, drinking and sunbathing. Eventually we lure everyone to the dining area with the promise of food. ‘Club Tropicana’ is blasting out through the speakers, creating a relaxing holiday vibe. The chefs are hurtling up and down the stairs with platters of sizzling chicken shawarma, mixed chopped salads, deep fried falafel, warm flatbreads and numerous bowls of thick, creamy beetroot hummus, tabbouleh, shredded pickled cabbage and French fries. It looks delicious. The guests immediately start helping themselves, swanning back and forth in their bikinis as though this isn’t a police investigation into a missing person.
Emir spots me and races towards me, muscling in between the legs of the police standing in a semi-circle around us. ‘Maddie, where have you been? Is it true?’
I instinctively take his hand. ‘Is what true?’
He beams up at me, impressed. ‘You pushed that horrible man off the boat?’
‘No!’ I say, horrified that all eyes are now on me. ‘Of course not.’ At that moment a very loud engine belonging to another speedboat roars up alongside the gulet. Not more policemen, I hope to myself. This is all getting incredibly out of hand. I just hope to God that none of it gets back to head office.
‘This could be him,’ exclaims Tiffany, dashing over to find out. ‘It could be Garry.’ She leans over the rail, her eyes darting back and forth. ‘Oh, shit.’
There’s an instant kerfuffle as we crane our necks to see what’s going on. Then my heart stops. Jackson is climbing on board.
What the hell?
Who would tell head office? How do they know? I look wildly around, but no one seems to have a clue. He must have heard what happened and within minutes, chartered a speedboat to come and get me. To come and get us, I mean (I’d hate to develop a god complex just because I fancy him like crazy).
‘Hopefully, he’s here to make sure we’re all okay as part of a routine wellness inspection and it’s all a pure coincidence.’ Astrid is wringing her hands nervously. ‘I hope this isn’t about the Emir incident. Or the spot check. Or me putting too much toilet paper down the toilets.’
She is clearly worried that she is for the sack. This whole trip has been quite traumatic. But as much as I disliked Garry, I’dneverwish him any harm.
Jackson walks moodily towards us. He shakes hands with the policeman in charge and there are some introductions and murmurings before Jackson turns to address us. ‘As of now, this boat has been declared a potential crime scene,’ he says in a very formal manner, his tone and expression unreadable. ‘And no one can leave unless Garry turns up within the next forty-eight hours. After that, he’ll be officially declared a missing person, and an official investigation will begin.’ His strong jaw makes him seem utterly in control and competent, which sends my pulse racing unexpectedly. He’s wearing a black, snug-fitting T-shirt that shows off his athletic build and makes his dark eyes seem even more intense. He’s wearing denim shorts that complement his tanned legs perfectly. I will have to make a mental note not to keep staring at them when we are sharing a desk. But I guess that’s my job at head office on hold for a little while until this whole mystery is resolved. I wonder if Jackson is as disappointed as I am.
‘Do you hear what I’m saying, Maddie?’
I snap to attention, quickly dragging my gaze back to his face. His impressive, asymmetrical, antipodean frontage. You’ve got to admire how well put together his DNA is. His genetics are simply spectacular.
‘Maddie,’ he says again, his tone softening. ‘The police are saying that it’s likely someone on the boat has pushed him overboard and until proven otherwise, you are their prime suspect.’
25
What is happening?I can’t quite take it all in. I’m appalled. ‘What do you mean? Why do they think someone on board pushed him? And why me? I barely knew him. Why not someone else?’
