Mallory, in fact, didn’t believe in coincidences at all. Her job had taught her that if it was a toss-up between chance encounters and criminal intent, it was usually the latter. Take the coffee issue. Alys had admitted to drinking coffee like it was going out of fashion. Perhaps it wasn’t the hummus that had made Alys ill, but the coffee. Shit. She, Stella, Grace, and Alys had all drunk coffee and fallen ill to some degree. Alys, who drank the stuff by the bucketful, had died. Of course, Mallory couldn’t be a hundred per cent sure that poison had deliberately been put in the coffee on reception, but Tom’s hygiene standards were high. It was a big coincidence Alys’s death had come the evening before Grace’s death by ingested poison. Here, she was on surer ground as Grace’s likely cause of death had been confirmed by Michael Hutton, a trained doctor. Unless she was so distracted she’d poured something poisonous into her milk then her killing was deliberate too.
Mallory would use criminal intent as her working hypothesis – she simply couldn’t see how an accident could have taken place. The problem was how different the types of poisonings were. Alys had died but not through the ruining of her throat like Grace. Meanwhile, she and the guests had merely struggled with a headache. This suggested someone either didn’t know what they were doing or they had simply intended to make the coffee drinkers ill, nothing more. Perhaps Alys did have an underlying condition. Mallory was certain of one thing: Grace had been meant to die, there was no doubt about that given the corrosive nature of the substance.
Then there was the issue of Bryony, which Mallory needed to think through properly. It would help if she had a clearer head, not the dull achy one which pounded every time she moved and which her medication was not touching. Mallory massaged her temples, trying to conjure a scenario where Bryony might be on the island. Beneath the salacious tone of the news reports, it had been clear that Bryony had an obsession with poisons, which had appalled those following the case. Mallory doubted addictions ever faded. An alcoholic would be forever drawn to drink while a former anorexic would likely have a complex relationship with food. Whatever support Bryony had received in the secure unit she’d been sent to post-conviction, Mallory guessed would only dull the girl’s obsession, not overcome it.
And now, on an island known for a nun who’d eaten poisonous berries, was a dead girl who’d once been the victim of Bryony Clive. Mallory was happy to risk the scorn of the investigative team when they got here by assuming that Bryony was also here. She would call the police again, this time asking for CID. If they needed a court order to reveal the identity of Bryony Clive, then now was the time to start the process. First, however, she was conscious she’d left the guests to fend for themselves this morning. She’d check on the breakfasters.
In the dining room was Charlotte Vass, eating alone. The insouciance of the previous evening had gone, replaced by a mannered boredom. She picked at her bowl of fruit and yoghurt while her eyes strayed to the window overlooking the lawned front although there was precious little to see through the rain-smeared glass. It was impossible to ignore the crack of the waves and intensity of the wind that was rattling at the windows. Scott and Edith Gregory sat at a corner table, both waking up. Edith was licking the butter off a piece of toast in between yawns. Beth had either decided to skip breakfast or have a lie in. On one of the tables next to the window sat Michael. He met Mallory’s gaze for a moment before returning to his food. She wondered if it was bravery or foolhardiness that led him to sit next to the glass. Either way, the other guests were giving the window tables a wide berth.
Mallory crossed to Charlotte Vass.
‘Is everything all right? Anything I can get you?’
Charlotte leant back in her chair and Mallory was once again struck by the woman’s coolness. She gave the impression little would faze her.
‘Everything’s fine. I’m enjoying my breakfast, which won’t be the case when my stepdaughter arrives.’
‘I saw your husband in here earlier.’
‘Noah likes to get up early. He doesn’t know what to do with himself now he’s had his breakfast. I’ve told him to go and have a swim. It might take the edge off his temper.’
‘Will you be all right?’
‘I’m used to it.’
Mallory despaired. She wondered about the dynamics of long-term marriages where people stayed with partners who clearly despised them. The decision to leave Joe, once taken, had lifted a weight from her shoulders. The years of affairs had eroded away at her confidence but one day, after the final dalliance where she’d caught him with his latest fling, she’d left with a small suitcase and her dented pride. She wondered if one day, maybe, Toby might respect her for this act of defiance. She felt she had to at least try to convey some of her concerns to Charlotte.
‘You know, however comfortable your life, there is help for you. Counselling, for example, might help you see how dysfunctional your situation is.’
Charlotte folded her arms. ‘I owe a lot to Noah, not that it’s any of your business.’
Mallory frowned, wondering what Noah had done to bind Charlotte to him. The relationship sounded dysfunctional with the balance of power in Noah’s favour. ‘I just wanted to let you know. I hope the wind didn’t keep you up at night.’ She would keep a close eye on both Charlotte and Julia in the coming hours. How would a man like Noah act in a confined setting?
‘It did a bit,’ admitted Charlotte. ‘I heard a bit of a commotion in the early hours. Is everything all right?’
Mallory tensed and saw, out of the corner of her eye, Michael glance across to them. Mallory considered. She and Tom had crept around Grace’s room making sure not to wake any of the other guests. It had been the same when she’d brought Michael to the room, with only the ting of the lift bell to disturb the silence. ‘What do you mean, commotion?’
‘I heard muffled sounds outside our room. I thought someone was walking about the hotel.’
Mallory met the woman’s eyes. They were sea blue in colour with an intensity she hadn’t noticed before.
‘I’m sorry you were disturbed. It was a rough night and tonight will probably be the same. The only consolation is that by the early hours, the storm will have dropped.’
Charlotte grunted. ‘Makes no difference to me. We won’t be leaving until Noah’s got his money’s worth. He doesn’t like to be short-changed.’
Mallory frowned. It was an odd choice of phrase and out of keeping with the rest of Charlotte’s demeanour. Mallory wondered if she’d just seen someone’s mask slip a little. It was possible. Charlotte had class – from the way she dressed to her confidence in the world despite her shaky marriage – but she’d hinted that just a small part of what she showed to the world was an act.
‘I’ll let you finish your breakfast,’ said Mallory, forcing a smile.
In the kitchen, she found Tom busy but grim-faced. ‘I’ve been thinking. Caustic substances don’t just end up in a glass. How the hell did that happen? I’ve been worrying about it all morning.’
Mallory wanted to collapse into a chair to relieve her pounding head and leg but contented herself with perching against the counter. ‘Look, help is coming soon. In the meantime, we just need to ensure the safety of the remaining guests and try to limit the damage to the hotel’s reputation. We owe Alex that much.’
‘You think it’s a tragic accident?’
‘Um…’ Mallory did some quick thinking. Tom was an ally and she needed as many of those as she could to get her through the next twenty-four hours. ‘The previous evening before I went to bed, I saw wet footprints coming into the kitchen. I’m thinking of a scenario where milk was taken from the fridge, a substance mixed in with it during the day yesterday, it was stored somewhere cool and then transferred to Grace’s bedroom.’
‘Jesus.’
‘It’s only a possibility, but I have to consider it. I’m also worried about the coffee too. If that’s been tampered with then there’s the possibility that other food isn’t safe. What can you a hundred per cent be sure hasn’t been disturbed?’ she asked him.
‘Anything in the walk-in freezer will be fine. There’s a lock on it and only Alex and I know the combination. I open it when I need to get joints of meat or whatever. There’s also frozen milk, cream, cheese and so on in case of a storm. I haven’t given the combination to anyone else.’
‘Frozen is good. I don’t know much about poisons but my guess is freezing won’t help toxicity and, in addition, any cooking might destroy its potency.’
‘Using that logic, the fruit and vegetables should be fine.’
‘Check everything and wash it before use. No salad, no raw fruit. Cook everything. What about the rest of the contents of the fridge?’
Tom shrugged. ‘There’s no lock.’
‘Shit. Get a black bag and let’s see what we must get rid of. Don’t put it in the rubbish. Everything will need to be tested.’
Together they threw out butter, opened tubs of yoghurt and cream. Vacuum-packed cold meats and cheeses were put on the counter while Mallory inspected them to see if the plastic had been broken. When she was happy there was no tampering, she replaced them in the fridge. ‘These are reserves. If we can get away with not using them, I’d be happier. Use the frozen meat and fish, overcook the vegetables – I can cope with complaints for one night.’ Mallory’s eyes caught sight of a Z-bed in the corner. ‘What’s that.’
‘I’m one step ahead of you. I’m sleeping in the kitchen tonight. No one will get past me.’
In the office, Mallory took a call from DI Harri Evans. He sounded tired and distracted.
‘It’s been one of those nights. For some, the storm’s an opportunity. There’s been some looting in town and I’m expecting more. Now this. I’m going to see if there’s any chance of getting a boat out to you. It’s not fair you having to deal with this alone.’
‘I’d appreciate that. I need you to talk to my boss, Alex, as soon as you can. Our receptionist, Alys Thomas, died yesterday with a doctor in attendance. We thought at the time we were dealing with a severe reaction to food poisoning.’
‘I’ve the file in front of me.’
So, Harri with an ‘i’ was nobody’s fool. ‘Do you have a cause of death?’
‘Give us a chance. She only died yesterday and the pathologist doesn’t usually work Saturdays. You’re not in Scotland Yard now.’
‘Fair enough.’
She heard him sigh down the line. ‘As it is, I’ve called the duty pathologist and she’s scheduled the autopsy for this morning. I’m going to attend myself.’
‘Will you call me with the results?’
A pause. ‘Sure.’
‘It’s important. I’m pretty sure someone deliberately killed Grace. I can’t make an accident scenario work.’
‘And you think this Bryony Clive is responsible. Jesus, this is a minefield. Murder is rare enough round here but a mass killer? You sure Bryony Clive’s been released from prison?’
‘According to the news reports I’ve read. How do we go about finding out her real identity?’
‘She’s a section 45 case. I think it might need the Home Secretary’s permission to reveal her new identity to us. I’ll have to speak to my boss about this. I doubt she’ll know so she’ll escalate it up too. It’ll probably take days, not hours. You say all the other guests are OK? What about the ones with headaches?’
‘I think they’re fine. I can’t be sure about my coffee theory. It doesn’t fit with the violence of Grace’s death.’
‘So all is calm amongst the guests.’
‘They don’t know anything about this, with the exception of the doctor, Michael Hutton.’
‘And the killer, if you think it deliberate.’
‘And the killer,’ agreed Mallory. ‘I’ve made steps to check that any food given to the guests is checked. I’m doing it quietly but if Bryony is amongst the guests, she may well spot something is up.’
‘Christ, I don’t envy your job. You’re retired, you say?’
‘Medically, but I’ll be fine.’
‘Keep your mobile handy and I’ll call you back as soon as I have more news.’ Harri hesitated. ‘Don’t try any heroics. The storm is abating about five a.m. tomorrow. You just need to get through today and tonight. Even if you suspect who Bryony is, don’t approach her.’