Page 69 of The Situation Ship
“Speaking of good stories, talking about your aunt and Calliope can’t have been easy. I’m sorry you were put on the spot like that.”
She was glad he couldn’t see her face in the dimly lit space. “It wasn’t the first time, and I doubt it’ll be the last time.” She was tired of spinning pretty lies.
“Is it because you grew up watching them that you wanted to get into acting?” Isaiah asked, as they walked up a short staircase.
“Maybe. I’ve always wanted to act. To focus on indie movies and support female directors and writers. There are so many stories that don’t get to be told, so I want to invest in as many projects as I can. To finance that goal, I’m working on a remake of one of my aunt’s Broadway shows; they offered me such a ridiculous check that I couldn’t refuse. With what they’re paying me, I was able to fund four smaller projects. I’ve been rehearsing for months in secret. Singing, dancing, and acting all wrapped up in one. It’ll be a good way to break into acting without shocking everyone. Getting the lead role was one of the happiest days of my life. For the first time, I’m working on things I wanted to do without outside influence or pressure,” she told him. She’d been afraid to admit to everything that was going right in life in case it all fell apart. Then again, given that a murderer was after her and those around her, her karma was fairly balanced.
“I’m sure those you’re helping appreciate you helping them realise their dreams. Did you get to celebrate?”
“No, I didn’t dare to tell anyone. Then the studio made the casting announcement a week after my aunt died. They thought it would be good publicity, since she played the role on stage,” Poppy said. She hadn’t agreed to their PR release, but she’d understood it had to come out at some point.
“Did you want to tell her?” Isaiah asked. “She put you through hell. I’m sure the thought of you taking her place would have driven her crazy.”
“I considered it, but I didn’t want her to ruin it for me. She would have tried to make me give up the role or contacted the casting director,” Poppy said, frustrated that such a happy moment was tainted by her aunt’s threats.
“When all this is over, we’re going to celebrate!” Isaiah said enthusiastically. “You should be able to sing, shout, and scream about everything you’ve achieved. No one is going to threaten or hurt you anymore.”
“I could’ve celebrated, but I was afraid of her finding out that I dared to step out of line. The moment Martha adopted me, my life was hers. You might think ‘poor little pop star with millions of fans, fame and fortune’, but I was her prisoner. My every move was controlled: what I wore, what I ate, and my medication. She put me in therapy for my parents’ death only to bribe the therapist into recording the session so she could make sure I wasn’t talking badly about her. Everything I earned up to eighteen funded her lifestyle. All my masters, she owned. I couldn’t breathe without permission. My victories were hers, but my failures were solely mine. I wanted this movie, this victory, to be mine for as long as possible. I wanted to make sure that I got my ducks in a row before she found out.” Poppy paused, feeling like she had said too much. “It must be the detective in you, because I can’t shut up around you.”
She glanced over her shoulder when he remained silent. She hoped she hadn’t scared him off with her trauma dumping.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, looking at the staircases that led to the spa and the tranquillity room one floor below. “Did you see something?” She studied the corridor, but there was nothing to notice, and his gaze was fixed solely on her.
“I can’t help but wonder why your parents left you with her. Surely they must have known she wasn’t the child-raising type?”
Isaiah was asking questions she didn’t have any answers to. Poppy thought about the woman who had come by the funeral from the orphanage she couldn’t remember.
“I don’t think my parents had any will. I was in an orphanage for a few months before my aunt came and got me, or so I’ve been told. I don’t remember much from that time. Martha was my mum’s sister, but they’d never been close since my mum was much younger. We only visited Martha at Christmas, so I doubt they wanted her to be my guardian. But there was no one else willing.” Poppy had spent most of her life wishing someone else had come for her. “But I don’t blame my parents. They were the best people in the world, and it’s not their fault that they died.”
“I’m sorry you had to live in such a home. Even if your aunt wasn’t, your parents are proud of you. Your strength and courage have helped you survive, and you still treat others with love and kindness. You have no idea how much I admire you. Not many would have the strength to continue to stand up and fight for themselves,” Isaiah said, with so much heart it nearly broke her.
“You really are a terrible detective.” Poppy turned to face him and wrapped her arms around his neck. She’d never thought he would talk about or feel for her like he did. Her soul had been chipped away at, her heart forever corrupted by what she had done, but he made her feel whole. She felt a surge of affection for him, a feeling she had tried to minimise and suppress.
“How so?” Isaiah chuckled as he returned the embrace.
“How can you think of me so highly, knowing what I’ve done? I’m afraid you’ll resent your feelings for me one day.”
“We all have our secrets, a past, but there’s nothing you could do that would make me resent how I feel about you,” Isaiah said, and the certainty in his words made her weak in the knees.
“What are you two doing here?” a maid carrying a rubbish bag barked at them, her voice cutting through the silence like a knife.
Poppy looked at Isaiah. “I’m sorry, we got lost. We were in the forest bar—”
“And you walked inside the tree? Did you think you were Alice going down the rabbit hole? You wouldn’t be the first guests to do that. Follow me, and I’ll take you back to the main deck.”
“Thank you. We had too many fruity cocktails and got turned around…” Poppy fell silent when she watched the woman pop open a chute hidden in the wall and send the rubbish down.
“What? You’ve never seen a rubbish chute before? It takes everything down to the incinerator,” the maid explained, closing it back up. The dark walls concealed its presence. Like the passages, you had to know what you were looking for to spot them.
“The ship has so many secrets. It’s hard not to be mystified,” Poppy observed.The killer could have discarded the weapon and the dress in the chute.If they could find the chute in the passageway the killer had used, they might be able to find something – blood, prints, maybe even the weapon or what she had used to mess with the cameras. Isaiah and Poppy locked eyes, telling her he had the same thoughts.
“A rubbish chute mystifies you? If only all guests were so easily impressed,” the maid said, turning her back on them. Poppy ignored the woman’s sneer. With guests like Douglas Mengur on board, she couldn’t imagine what the maid had to put up with.
Silently, the woman led them out of the staff passageway to the B-Deck. They waited a few minutes before sneaking back in and following the arrows to the lounge deck. The closer they got to it, the slower they approached. About to make the final turn,Isaiah motioned for Poppy to step aside. She let him go first. He drew his gun and checked the corners to make sure no one was lying in wait.
“It’s clear,” he said quietly, putting his gun away.
“Find the rubbish chute,” Poppy said, quickly running her hands over the walls. Neither dared to speak; anticipation thickened the air around them. Poppy sighed in relief when she felt the square crease in the wall and popped the chute open.
