My words faltered as I saw Laurent, Evan, and Rémy emerge from the stairs beyond the pool wrapped in towels, their shoulders slumped, faces somber. Laurent caught my eye for just a moment, his gaze uneasy, before he followed them down the central stairwell toward our cabins.
“Did you talk to the owners of the gray yacht?” I asked the officers.
I could tell from the look that passed between them that I wasn’t the first to ask. The hair stood up on the back of my neck. “Why?” Gauthier asked.
“We saw one of them down there. They own the land around the proposed De-Sal site, and apparently they were really upset with Tyson.”
“How long had you known Tyson?” Lambert asked, abruptly switching directions.
“Since high school,” I answered.
“And the last time you saw him before this trip was when?” he pushed.
I paused, knowing my answer would only elicit more questions. “Ten, eleven years ago.”
“Why so long?”
While my exterior remained calm, my pulse skyrocketed. “Our lives went in different directions.”
“So why did he invite you, who are not close to him and had not seen him in so long, to this intimate birthday celebration?” Lambert asked.
The wheels of my brain spun as I tried to decide how much to tell them. Should I reveal that he’d hired me to find out who was blackmailing him? But that would lead to other questions, questions neither Cody nor I could easily answer. Still, they would see the $50,000 he’d paid my firm up front if they looked at his bank statements, which, if this turned into a murder investigation, they definitely would. So I needed to tell them something.
“I’m a discovery agent,” I said.
That got their attention.
“What is this?” Gauthier asked, pausing with a brie tart halfway to his mouth.
“I normally work with attorneys doing discovery before trial.” I lowered my voice. “But Tyson was afraid someone in his inner circle was plotting against him, and he hired my firm to find out who.”
“Plotting, how?” Lambert asked, stroking his mustache.
“He was a bit…paranoid,” I said. “There were a few things, documents, that should have been confidential but were leaked. He wanted me to find out who was leaking these documents.”
“And did you?” Lambert asked.
I shook my head. The only proof I had of Cody and Allison’s duplicity was the pictures of her talking to those two men at Le Ti who were wearing costumes that concealed their identity, and I was not inclined to make accusations without evidence that would stand up in a court of law. “I’ve been here less than forty-eight hours. And the others don’t know I am here in that capacity, so please don’t mention it to them.”
Lambert nodded as Gauthier madly scribbled on his notepad.
“Did Mr. Dale say or do anything while you were here that would lead you to believe he might be capable of harming himself?” Gauthier stepped in.
“No,” I said, relieved that they didn’t seem inclined to ask any more questions about my work.
“And can you think of anyone who might have wished Tyson harm?” he asked.
Literally every guest on this boat. But all I knew was hearsay, and I wasn’t about to start pointing fingers without talking to an attorney first. I shrugged. “Sorry I’m not more help.”
Behind the officers, I saw Marielle descend the central staircase, followed by Allison and Cody, who looked more composed than when I’d left him. Officers Gauthier and Lambert stood, hands extended, as Cody and Allison crossed to them.
“Cody Dale,” Cody said.
“Allison Zhu,” Allison followed up.
Gauthier’s eyes lit up as he registered who Allison was. “You are the champion swimmer,” he said, impressed. “I watched you beat our girl in every race.”
Allison nodded. “Alaina was a great competitor. She beat me sometimes too.”