She’s saying someone pushed her.
Why was he latching onto this? Hazel falling into the busiest road in Bindi Bindi just hours after Clarkson’s funeral wasn’t even coincidence enough for police to ask questions. Avery was only involved because he was connected to her on a personal level. The fact that Hazel had been at the same bar as Nella moments before her accident was irrelevant.
So why was he on edge?
It had to be because of Clarkson. Because of how it could so easily have been Nella, working late in that office. But if they were to read into his emails about leaving Lieu & Lockridge, then that gave Oliver the biggest motive of anyone to want Clarkson dead. His death therefore being unconnected to Nella, the Barbaranis or the court case.
She’s saying someone pushed her.
This wasn’t over. Nothing would be over until the court had decided whether or not the La Marcas had enough evidence that the recipe was stolen to go to trial. All going to whatever plan Clarkson had, Nella was going to disprove the claim once they got into the La Marca house, god only knew how. But until then, Jett had to assume Clarkson’s death was related to the fact that he was the Barbaranis’ lawyer and he’d discovered something that meant he had to be silenced.
And the lastsomethinghe’d found was thesomethingNella was chasing right now.
Jett could not lose focus. He had to forget everything else that was going on, forget Nella’s icy stare and the image of her lips around that fucking strawberry that had pretty much undone all of the progress he’d made, almost killing himself at Devil’s Pool to get her out of his mind.
He forced himself to focus on what the slimy young guide was telling them about the island like it was a newly colonised planet that had never been seen by human eyes before.
‘It’s named after San Giulio orSaint Julius.’ He put on a thick Australian accent, eliciting a snort from Daisy and a smirk from Nella. Ariana continued to dry-heave over the edge of the boat. ‘He came here in 390 AD and banished all the snakes and dragons from the island, so they built the Basilica in his honour.’
‘Dragons?’ Nella raised an eyebrow. ‘Surely you guys get enough tourists here that you don’t need to go all Loch Ness monster on us?’
‘I just, uh ... how you say,tell it like it is.’ He winked at her, and Jett felt like joining Ariana.
‘There are about seventy nuns living here now, and they are dedicated to silent contemplation and prayer. The rest of the houses you see’—he made a show of standing behind Nella to point out the tall multi-coloured buildings that bordered the tiny island—‘are private residences.’
‘Are you okay?’ Jett cautiously bent towards Ariana in an effort to not push the guide overboard.
Ariana turned, face the same bone colour as the ancient walls of the island monastery they were fast approaching. ‘I don’t understand.’ She wiped her mouth with a shaking hand. ‘I never get sick on planes. Or boats. I think that chinotto was off ... That’s all I can think of ...’
‘Here.’ He handed her the unopened water bottle he’d got from the ferry kiosk and she took it gratefully, her pride and independence long since evaporated. They needed her upright. Who knew how many spies Matteo had on this island? And they needed her to get them into the house. Jett seemed to be the only one who remembered this. Everyone else was too mesmerised with the landscape of the silent island and the guide who, when Nella had asked if he spoke English, had said (in Italian so only she could understand, Ariana too busy throwing up), ‘Yes, but I kiss better in Italian.’ Nella had happily translated for the rest of them with a smug smile.
‘Did your father tell you how to get into the house?’ Jett knew Ariana would see anything he said as some attempt to get information from her, so he might as well ask straight out. And if he was being honest, she was the only one on this boat he could currently stand talking to.
‘I know how,’ she said. ‘My aunt lives on the island. She has the key.’
‘A key?’
She smiled weakly, but Jett noticed her blue eyes were still sharp and assessing. A fighter who was used to being locked in a cage. ‘How doyounormally get into a house?’ she asked, leaning over the bow – lessTitanic,moreJaws.
‘Just figured it would be more of an infrared laser-beam, giant-chess-game-where-all-the-pieces-are-real, only-one-survives type of heist situation.’
‘It’s hardly a heist,’ she said. ‘I’m letting you in.’
‘Yeah.’ Jett scratched his chin. ‘And is the door hinge connected to a trigger on the La Marca Estate back in Australia that will shoot Luca in the head as soon as we step on the door mat?’
Ariana threw up again.
‘Sorry,’ Jett said, wishing he’d just stayed over by the hull and watched Roman, the guide-and-don’t-forget-wine-expert, try to work up the courage to propose to Nella before they docked.
‘Not ... your ... fault,’ Ariana heaved, then stood again, draining the water bottle. ‘Do you honestly think my father would hurt Luca?’
Jett didn’t like the waver in her voice. Like the question wasn’t rhetorical.
‘This is as much a punishment for me as it is for your family – this prisoner swap situation.’
‘They’re not my family, Ariana. I just drive their cars.’
She wiped her mouth with a shaking hand, eyes flickering to Nella. ‘I doubt they see it that way.’
