Page 81 of Sunburned

Laurent and I exchanged a glance.

“We don’t care,” she said, waving a hand at us, “about that. But the police are asking questions. We are hoping you will not tell them about her fight with Tyson.”

“I already spoke to them,” I said. “I didn’t say anything.”

“I didn’t either,” Laurent said.

“Oh, good.” Her body sagged with relief as she leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom. “You know how these things can be. We don’t want them to get the wrong idea.”

“Of course,” I said. Though I couldn’t promise I’d continue to cover for Samira. As much as I sympathized with her for what Tyson had put her through, she did have reason to kill him. “How’s Samira doing?”

“Not great.” Gisèle pulled at a thread on her cutoff jean shorts.“Their relationship was complicated, you know. But she did love him. She feels terrible that they were fighting last night. But it wasn’t her fault. He wasn’t…easy.”

“I know,” I said, wondering if the same could have been said for her first husband. “Did you talk to the police yet?”

She nodded. “They asked us all to come to the salon.”

“I should change,” Laurent said, rising and going to the door. “I’ll see you upstairs.”

Gisèle followed him out, but I stayed put for a moment, thinking.

Laurent clearly knew something he wasn’t letting on. I wished he trusted me enough to tell me whatever it was, because if he couldn’t trust me, that meant I couldn’t trust him, either.

Whatever I’d told myself about there being no danger in developing actual feelings for him, I had to admit I liked him more than I’d intended. But no matter my feelings or how genuine he seemed, he’d had opportunity to kill Tyson, and depending on whether whatever secret Tyson held over him was worth murder, possibly motive as well.

My heart sank.

I so badly wanted to trust him. And I could use his help, if I was going to try to find out who’d done this. Which I realized wasn’t my place, of course. But it was in my best interest, and my brain was already working to put the pieces of the puzzle together, whether or not I wanted it to.

The same way my heart was finding ways to defend Laurent, whether or not I wanted it to.

Which was exactly why now, more than ever, I needed to maintain control, to repair the walls I’d so sloppily left unguarded. But if I was going to try to solve this—which, okay, obviously I was—I did need someone’s help, and Laurent was likely the most willing candidate.

I couldn’t trust him, though, couldn’t confide in him or get lost in those absurdly blue eyes.

No matter my ill-advised affection for him, he was a suspect now.

We were all suspects.

Chapter 28

I emerged from the stairwell to find the sun low in the sky, glinting off the water and bathing the main deck in its golden rays. The soft notes of a melancholy song hung in the air, courtesy of Gisèle, who sat at the baby grand piano, fingers caressing the keys.

Jennifer listened with her eyes closed from a nearby chair while Rémy and Laurent talked in low tones at the bar. Samira sat alone on a couch that looked out toward the shining sea.

I’d just settled onto a divan near the piano when Officers Lambert and Gauthier came down the stairs, followed by Cody and Allison. They hesitated at the base of the stairwell for a moment, listening to Gisèle play until she noticed them and stopped midphrase, leaving the notes ringing.

“Is everyone here?” Lambert asked.

We gathered in the sitting area near the bar, Gisèle coaxing Samira into joining us with an arm around her waist as though she was an invalid. In her long black dress, Samira was a picture-perfect young widow, her shoulders slumped, her face tear-streaked.

But as she collapsed into a chaise longue, pushing her sunglasses up on her head to reveal red-rimmed eyes, I couldn’t help but wonderwhether she could possibly be as sad as she appeared to be. Yes, love was complicated, but her vitriol toward her husband last night had seemed much more deep-seated than a lovers’ spat—not to mention whatever was going on between her and Gisèle.

The officers hovered at the edge of our seating area. “This is everyone from the dive, no?” Lambert asked.

“There were additional Search and Rescue divers with us when we recovered him,”Rémy volunteered.

“We do not need them,”Lambert said. He paused, his piercing eyes lingering on each of us in turn before he finally cleared his throat. “We have reason to believe that Mr. Dale’s death was not an accident.”