Witness Statement
Luisa Edwards, Waitress at Giovanni’s Restaurant, Capri
That piece of shit put his hand up my skirt. I freaked out and dropped the bottle of wine I was holding. He was disgusting. I’m glad he’s dead. I mean, I didn’t do it, obviously. I’m sure plenty would’ve loved to be the one to kill him. All the girls knew about him. We always drew straws on who had to wait his table. Management don’t give a shit, as he’s loaded. It’s so depressing. Fuck, I need to get out of here. My mother was right, I just…Yes, that couple were there when it happened. I remember them. Who wouldn’t remember them? They paid up and left before the shit did. Racing back to their suite, probably. Lucky cow.
August 2012
Witness Statement
Marie Bosanquet, Reception, The Pampelonne Prestige, St. Tropez
No, they hadn’t stayed here before. I would’ve remembered them. They were here for a thirtieth birthday party. Some Russian guy’s. Apparently his family are a big deal. It all got a little crazy. I remember we had to charge their damage deposit for at least one broken table. People were dancing on them all night. And don’t even get me started on the mess in the…Well, no I don’t think that couple were leading the trouble. Just, you know, normal rich party guests. I think they left before checkout. She was a redhead, not like your photo.
August 2012
Witness Statement
Dreya (No Last Name Given), Housekeeping, The Pampelonne Prestige, St. Tropez
I don’t want any trouble. I don’t…Okay…You’re a private investigator?…How much?…No, okay I can help. Yes, I cleaned their room when they were here…Any what?…No, no, nothing like that. Just usual, you know…They were couple who liked to be alone in their room. You know…Happy couple. Nothing else. I mean, there was a private problem. Big stain on one of the towels. She said it was, you know, woman’s problem. It happens, you know. She was very nice and apologetic about it. Not like usual guests who trash everything and ignore me.
August 2012
Witness Statement
Alison Martin, Guest, The Pampelonne Prestige, St. Tropez
Oh god, I hated those two. They were in the next room to me. Made me want to puke. Yeah, so you’re hot and into each other, bully for you. Why’d you have to go round rubbing it in our faces. Are they dead? Did he kill her?…No, no, I didn’t see him be violent or anything. I was just hoping, you know, that no one can be as happy as that for real.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Haze
Getting glammed up to goto a black-tie masked ball at a stately home should have been fun, but the whole potential deadly threat of what lay ahead was putting a bit of a downer on things.
The usual pre-event jitters with heightened stakes.
Less worry about dying of boredom from a banker’s bad chat, and more worry about actually dying.
I’d squeezed myself into a tight black Roland Mouret dress that hugged my curves in all the right places. My sheathed knife was strapped to my right inner thigh so as not to upset the lines of my dress—its fastening at the back could unzip upward, releasing me to run, climb, fight. The three-inch Louboutin heels were perhaps a little impractical. But I really couldn’t wear flats with this outfit.
We’d assessed it repeatedly and had concluded it would be unlikely that we were walking into an outright attack. If they wanted to make a scene, it wouldn’t be at a home of national importance and in front of such polite society.
Social hand grenades only.
Tonight was the night we would hopefully once and for all lift the shadow of the last year. We could finally come face-to-face—or, really, mask-to-mask—with The Chameleon.
Drake might have tried to warn us off, but he didn’t realize that we had to go. We needed answers. We didn’t hide from our problems; we confronted them head-on.
I came down to the kitchen to find Fox looking resplendent in his black tie.
“Hot,” I said to him.
“And hotter,” he said back as he kissed me.
We were absolutely nauseating, and I was totally into it.
Our masks were on the kitchen table. Mine was an elaborate peacock feather one that hid most of my face. Fox’s was the classic Phantom of the Opera.
