Again, he remains as tight-lipped as the chefs. Something is not adding up.
‘Does this mean you believe I’m innocent? Or that you’re here to hang me out to dry? Are you hiding information?’
Jackson looks down at his deck shoes. ‘For the record, I think you’re innocent but… one, we need to prove it. Two, I think my judgement is severely impaired.’ He raises his eyes to mine and I see that spark of attraction that I saw when I first met him. He blinks slowly. ‘It’s my job to keep a professional distance. Not to become attached.’
Oh.
‘Message received. Loud and clear,’ I say snippily. Recent statistics reveal that up to 5 per cent of inmates are jailed for crimes they did not commit. ‘Just don’t let them send me to jail.’
27
We arrive on deck to see the party atmosphere in full swing. Everybody is either two-stepping as they sing along to ‘Red Red Wine’ on the decking area, or ironically, they are using the lyrics to request top-ups from their seats. I can see Astrid, Tiffany and Shaun careering through the crowded dining area filling red wine glasses as they go. I grab an apron, tie it around my waist and dash behind the bar.
‘Three margaritas, one Jiggy Jiggy and a Sex on the Love Ahoy!, please,’ yells Astrid as she flies past. ‘These Turkish policemen are really letting their hair down. Can you take a tray of shots over, please, Maddie?’
I glance around. She’s not wrong. The policemen are mingling amiably with the guests, and no one is looking remotely bothered that we are in the middle of a missing persons investigation or that I am the chief suspect or one of them. As I’m busy fixing drinks, I notice the chessboard tucked away under the sink. It instantly reminds me that I should be keeping an eye on Emir. I cast my eye around and spot him sitting with his grandmother, whose eyes are drooping. She clearly needs a nap. He looks distinctly bored, while his parents slow dance a few feet away, unable to keep their hands off one another. I notice Mehmet chatting animatedly with a group of young women, so Emir’s options for company are limited. I doubt Emir’s family will allow me near him, what with them thinking I pushed my supervisor off the boat, but it’s worth a try. I make my way over, battling through a near-impenetrable ring of guests and policemen dancing with interlocked arms over each other’s shoulders, side-stepping in unison and dipping at the knees as they all bellow along in Turkish. Under their watchful gaze, I manage to serve the drinks, swerving the tray in time with them, as they keep dancing, before heading to Emir.
‘Oh, thank God!’ yells his grandmother over the booming music. ‘You’re here. He’s talked of nothing else since you were carted away by the police.’
Slightly startled, I rebuff the accusation. ‘Firstly, I wasn’t carted away because I’m no longer the only prime suspect. They are pointing the finger at Shaun. And secondly, it wasn’t the police, it was just the captain and…’ I feel the blush coming long before it reaches my cheeks.Honestly, what is wrong with me?‘…and Jackson. The, erm, boss of LoveIt Holidays. And again, on behalf of the company, I’d like to apologise for any inconvenience?—’
‘That’s good enough for me. Take him.’
‘Sorry?’
‘Take him. He’s missed you.’
Despite my worries, I manage to grin at the little boy. ‘And I’ve missed you, Emir. Do you fancy a game of chess while I work the bar?’
He’s already slid off his seat, coming round to take my hand and drag me away. His grandmother slides along the bench and heaves up to her feet. ‘I’ll take a much-needed nap if you don’t mind. Because I’m so old and frail, the police have ruled me out. What a disgrace. I could bench press every last one of them.’
Despite her protestations, Emir and I help her down the stairs before returning to the bar to see Jackson standing there, drumming his fingers on the bench and looking apprehensively around. He and I studiously ignore each other as I settle Emir onto a high bar stool and dig around for the chessboard, placing the box in front of him to set up. Emir is finding this new dynamic amusing, his little face flitting back and forth between us as I silently hold up a glass while Jackson gives an imperceptible nod of acknowledgement. I diligently pour Jackson his favourite drink (not many men have the self-confidence to admit to preferring an Appletini Spritz over a pint of manly lager) and he silently accepts it. I put a beer mat underneath to catch the drips while he nods his thanks all without a word spoken.
‘Can you play with us?’ Emir asks Jackson in his cutestI’m only a ickle boyvoice. I see Jackson try not to visibly melt as he runs a hand through his hair. He looks to me for confirmation. I nod. If it’s what Emir wants, then who am I to argue? Our motto is always to keep the customers happy.
Emir claps his hands with delight and excitedly rips the top off the box while I serve Tiffany who has a drinks list as long as my leg. It’s a few minutes before I can pay Emir any attention.
‘Have you set all the pieces up, yet?’ I ask. ‘What? What’s wrong?’ Both Emir and Jackson have strange looks on their faces. Emir points to the chess box. I peer inside to see a bulging black leather pouch. ‘How did that get in there? Is it a wallet?’
Emir nods. ‘Yes. It has lots of money in it.’
‘How would you know?’ I say, already knowing the answer.
‘Because I took it.’
‘And hid it in this box?’
‘Yes. I am very clever. Only you and me look in this box. All these morons’ – he sweeps his arm around the vicinity – ‘don’t know how to play.’
How to respond?I have to admit, he may have learned these new words from me. I’m a terrible influence. My language under duress has been appalling.
I clear my throat. ‘I think what Emir is trying to say is that?—’
Jackson interrupts, leaning over to grab the wallet. ‘No worries. It’s hardly the time for semantics. Emir, who did you take this from?’
Emir is quick to respond. ‘The mean man, of course.’
Jackson stops, his hand holding the wallet mid-air. ‘You took this from Garry Gee? The man who is missing?’
