One by One(59)

“So how did someone get in?” Topher demands. “Staff key? How many of those things are there?”

“Just two,” I say. I hold up mine. “I had mine with me all night. I’m certain of it. Danny?”

But Danny is frowning, patting his pockets.

“I thought mine was in here. These were the clothes I was wearing yesterday. I thought… Hang on.”

And without waiting for anyone else to accompany him, he jumps up and leaves the room.

“Danny!” I shout after him, but he calls back.

“I’ll only be a sec.”

There’s a long silence. I find my heart beating uncomfortably fast, even though I know it’s irrational. Everyone is in here. I’m looking at them right now. But this is starting to feel like Lord of the Flies.

When Danny comes back, his face is very grave, and the look he shoots at me tells me he’s not relishing what he’s about to say.

“Well, there ain’t no point in sugarcoating this,” he says. “My key’s gone. Someone’s half-inched it.”

“Fuck.” It’s Rik, the word sounding like gunshot in the ensuing silence. “Fuck. You’re saying someone has access to every room in the place now? None of us can lock our doors?”

“That’s about the size of it,” Danny says grimly.

“You,” Topher spits, “are a fucking irresponsible wanker, you had a duty of care to us and—”

Danny stands up, putting himself on the same level as Topher, almost squaring up to him.

“Don’t take that tone with me, mate.”

“This is bloody convenient for you, isn’t it? Before, if anyone managed to get access to any of the rooms you and Erin were prime suspects, now you’ve contrived—”

“I haven’t contrived anything,” Danny snarls back. “And don’t you bring me and Erin into it. We ain’t done nothing, and we never had any trouble until you lot turned up and started bumping each other off. We don’t know any of you from Adam. So the fact that one of your employees nicked my key—”

“Well that’s another thing,” Topher says angrily. “Who exactly is Erin anyway, because she seems to be a little overqualified for a chalet girl if you ask me. Petrifical fucking whatever it was—is that part of the ski chalet training?”

Shit. I knew this was coming. I sigh and stand up too, favoring my good leg.

“No. No it’s not. The truth is…” I glance at Danny, wondering what I can get away with. “The truth is, I went to medical school before I came here. I dropped out, but that’s how I know about the petechiae.”

“But that’s not all, is it,” Topher prods. “It’s been bothering me since I got here. I know you. I know I do.”

Fuck. Fuck.

There is no point in beating around the bush any longer.

“Yes, you probably do know me. My surname is FitzClarence. My friends all call me Erin, but that’s my middle name.”

“I fucking knew it!” Topher’s voice is a shout of triumph. “I knew I knew you. Dorothea FitzClarence. I was at school with your brother, Alex—the one who—”

He breaks off, and I nod reluctantly, because there is nothing else I can do.

“What?” Danny says. He looks thunderstruck. “Erin, what is this bullshit? Dorothea—you what?”

“Let me introduce you,” Topher says, with great malice, “to Lady Dorothea de Plessis FitzClarence, youngest daughter of the Marquess of Cardale.”





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Looking around the circle of frowning faces, it is clear that I am not the only person who is very confused. Erin looks stricken. Topher looks delighted. But everyone else looks as baffled as I feel. What has just happened? What has this got to do with Ani’s death?

There is no time to find out. Danny turns around so abruptly that he knocks over a chair. It falls with a clatter, smashing a whiskey glass.

“Danny,” Erin says desperately.

“You fucking liar,” he shoots over his shoulder. Then he leaves the room.

Erin gives a furious look at Topher.

“Thanks a bunch,” she says, and then she is gone, hobbling after Danny.

“Ha,” Topher says, sitting down in an armchair. There is a look of grim satisfaction on his face.

“Topher,” Miranda says, bewildered. “What on earth was all that about? Ani is dead for goodness’ sake. Have you forgotten that?”

“No,” Topher says defensively, though I think the truth is that he had, just for a minute or two. “No, not at all. That’s very hurtful of you to imply that, Miranda. But I’d had enough of that chippy chef throwing around accusations. We’re not the only people hiding stuff.”

“Speak for yourself, mate!” Carl splutters. “I’m not hiding anything! What the hell has it got to do with anything if Erin’s a bit posher than she’s been letting on?”

“Because she’s got skin in this game too,” Topher hisses angrily. “I’m fed up of them both acting so high and mighty.”

“I remember Alex FitzClarence,” Rik says slowly. “He was a couple of years below us. Didn’t… didn’t he die a few years ago?”