The less Iwantedto be certain of it. I’d lost the girls now, wiggling my way through the crowd, brushing against sweaty backs and spray-tanned arms. I forced myself to take deep, silent breaths and to smile. To fucking smile as hard as I could.
I could only hope that no one would notice how much my hands were shaking.
Finally, it was my turn to get on one of the boats. As I sat down, an older woman dripping in diamonds grabbed my arm and leaned a little too close to me. There was a bead of sweat on her upper lip.
“Did you have the most wonderful time?” she said, giggling like a little girl.
“Themostwonderful,” I responded through gritted teeth.
The air was cold now, and I was shivering. I forced myself to stare at the Cannes lights ahead, away from this nightmare.
“This!” she said, leaning even closer. “Thisis the most wonderful.”
Her face was practically in my neck now. I thought she was going to lick it.
I didn’t understand what she was talking about until I brought my hand to my collarbone. The necklace. The stolen necklace. The one Constance didn’t even seem to recognize. Or maybe it was all pretend?
“Whoever gave you this must love you very,verymuch,” the woman purred. Then, she cupped my face in her hands. “You are so young and beautiful. Do you realize how lucky you are?”
As strange as it may seem, my first thought wasn’t that I’d just seen a man, a very famous man, get murdered on (or maybe more accurately,off) the yacht we’d just left. No. My first thought was that no one loved me, let alone very,verymuch.
“Solucky,” I said.
And then we were back at the marina. All I had to do was walk away. I needed to focus on that, but one thought kept trying to push its way to the front of my mind. By not calling for help at the exact moment Odetta Olson had smashed Dorian Fisher with the fire extinguisher, we had shown the worst versions of ourselves. Wasn’t it a crime to witness something like that and say nothing?
I hung on to my new friend until the crowd dispersed onto the dock and I was back on solid land. Some people hugged goodbye while others clambered away in the direction of the string of black cars waiting on the street. A man came to claim my new friend, and she clung on to his arm instead. All around me, people were paired off. I worried I would stand out—sad little alone me—and quickened my pace so I could tag near a group of men.
Most of them were famous actors and directors, but there was one in particular who I’d seen talking to Dorian Fisher at the start of the evening. Had he noticed that Dorian had disappeared at the end of the party? Was anyone searching for him?Of coursethey’d be searching for him.
The guilt started to worm its way through my intestines. I was going to be sick. Again. I rushed over to the side of the dock and barely had time to push my hair back before the bile came streaming out of me into the water.
“You all right, sweetheart?” a man called out to me.
I gave him a thumbs-up.
“Those cocktails were deadly!” he continued, laughing.
“Deadly” I agreed, still facing down.
I waited until they were gone to stand up, then made a right at theend of the pier, onto the promenade and along the beach, in the opposite direction from the hotel. My instinct told me I should stay far away from the girls. As long as we were apart, we didn’t have to decide what to do next. We didn’t have to face our new reality.
I couldn’t bring myself to look at my phone, but it must have been two or three in the morning. The boulevard was eerily quiet. I immediately sensed the car driving alongside me, slowing down to match my pace, and eventually coming to a stop.
The door opened. A pair of legs swiveled and hit the ground. The metallic sandals looked familiar, but I wasn’t certain it was her until Odetta Olson emerged, her eyes trained on me.
“Well, hello there,” she said, but there was no pep in her tone.
Her eye makeup was smudged—though perhaps not as much as one would expect, given her recent activities—and her dress lay askew on her body.
“Just the person I was looking for,” she added.
“Me?” I said, stammering out the word. “Why would you be looking for me? I don’t know anything. I’m nobody.”
Had anyone ever sounded more guilty? But wait, if anyone should feel guilty on this specific patch of the promenade, it was the person who had just thrown a man overboard.
“I’d like to take a walk, if that’s okay with you,” she said.
It didn’t sound like she was giving me a choice. Her car, along with the driver, stayed parked on the side of the road. At least there would be a witness.
