“About twenty minutes ago, I think.”
I nodded at the door behind me, the one I’d just come through—now closed again and invisible unless you knew the mirror’s secret.
“Is this the only entrance to the spa?”
“It depends what you mean by entrance,” she said slowly, obviously confused by the question. “It is the only entrance but it is not the only exit. There is a fire exit downstairs that leads into the staff quarters, but it is . . . what’s the word. Single way? It opens outwards only. Also it is alarmed, so I don’t recommend you use it or there will be an evacuation! Why do you ask?”
“No reason.”
I had made a mistake in blabbing to Nilsson this morning. I wasn’t going to make that mistake again. I was keeping my cards close to my chest this time.
“They are serving lunch in the Lindgren Lounge,” Eva said, “but don’t worry, you haven’t missed anything—it is a buffet lunch, so people are free to come and go. Oh, and I almost forgot,” she said as I turned to go. “Did Mr. Howard find you?”
“No.” I stopped dead, my hand on the door. “Why?”
“He came here looking for you. I explained that you were undergoing a treatment so he could not speak to you personally, but he went downstairs to leave a message with Ulla. Would you like me to try to find it?”
“No,” I said shortly. “I’ll find him myself. Did anyone else go down?”
She shook her head.
“No. I have been here the whole time. Miss Blacklock, are you sure nothing is wrong?”
I didn’t answer. I just turned and left the spa, feeling the chill damp of my skin beneath my clothes, and a cold dread that had spread far deeper.
The Lindgren Lounge was empty except for Cole, who was sitting at a table with his camera in front of him, and Chloe, who was across from him, staring out of the window and forking salad absentmindedly into her mouth. She looked up when I came in and nodded at the chair next to her.
“Hey! Wasn’t the spa amazing?”
“I guess,” I said as I pulled up a chair, and then, realizing how strange and ungracious I must be sounding, I tried again. “I mean, yes, it was. My treatment was very good. I’m just—I’m not good with enclosed spaces. I’m kind of claustrophobic.”
“Oh!” Her face cleared. “I wondered why you looked so tense downstairs. I thought you were hungover.”
“Well.” I gave a false-sounding laugh. “That too, probably.”
Could it have been her, down in the spa? It was definitely possible. But Ben had been so clear about last night—she had never left the room.
What about Tina, then? I thought of her wiry strength, and her fierce reaction to my question about where she had been last night, and I absolutely could believe she would push someone overboard.
Could it have been Ben? He had come down into the spa, and I only had his own word for his alibi last night, after all.
I wanted to scream. This was sending me mad.
“Listen,” I said casually to Chloe, “you were playing poker last night, weren’t you?”
“I wasn’t playing. But I was there, yes. Poor Lars got fleeced, but then, he can afford it.” She gave a short, rather heartless laugh, and Cole looked up from the other table and flashed her a grin.
“This is going to sound like an odd question . . . but did any of the others leave the cabin?”
“I couldn’t honestly say,” Chloe said. “I went through to the bedroom after a while. Poker’s the most boring game to watch. Cole was there for a bit of it, weren’t you, Cole?”
“Only for about half an hour,” Cole said. “Like Chloe says, poker’s not really a spectator sport. I do remember Howard leaving. He went to get his wallet.” My mouth was suddenly dry as he continued, “Why d’you want to know?”
“Doesn’t matter.” I tried to force a smile, and changed the subject before he could pin me down for an answer. “How are the photos?”
“Take a look if you like,” he said, tossing the camera across with such casualness that I gasped, and nearly dropped it. “Press the play button on the back and you can scroll through them. I’ll send you a print of any you like.”
I began to work my way through the pictures, going back in time through the voyage, past moody shots of clouds and wheeling gulls, past the poker game last night, pictures of Bullmer laughing and scooping Ben’s chips towards him, and Lars groaning as he laid down a pair of twos to Ben’s three fives. One, from last night, almost took my breath away. It was a photo of Chloe, taken from very close. Her eyes had just flicked towards the camera. You could see the tiny hairs on her cheek, golden in the lamplight, and the smile that just tugged at the corner of her mouth, and there was something so intimate and so tender about the shot that I felt like an intruder even looking at it. My gaze went to Chloe, almost inadvertently, wondering about her and Cole, and she looked up.