Early the next morning, breakfast was delivered to guests in their beds, with an extra something on top. A fancy invite, asking them to join the host for a special gala dinner to 'Remember Devi Dhungel' and 'Please dress semi-casual or come in your Sunday Best.'

So naturally, there was a buzz on the deck, the hallways, and the dining room at lunch about their mysterious hosts: what they may look like, what they did for money, how they knew Devi, and what in the world they should wear!

Curiosity was contagious and the conversations all day speculated many things. Each guest wanted to impress the host should this be the moment they declare the beneficiary of those one million dollars up for grabs.

Hector had almost been too giddy all day, skirting conversations and questions that aimed to pry into his thoughts. What did he make of the gala dinner? What did he make of the entire trip? Who did he think was this generous host? Someone Devi knew? Maybe one of Devi's old lovers—a question that prickled him the wrong way for some reason.

Eventually, as the afternoon drew to a close and evening loomed ahead, promising even more intrigue, some guests abandoned the bar, taking their half-sipped cocktails to their room—Vinay, grumbling he had to share the room with his mum like a child. After night one of catching Pecker and his new squeeze get it on under the duvet with a whole other person on the bed next to them, he'd decided sharing with mum was a better option of the two.

Yet others abandoned the deck where they'd sunbathed all day, ordering around the crew for canapés and drinks; pretending the yacht was theirs and it was sailing across the world.

Hector slipped away earlier than most that afternoon with a, "If you'll excuse me, I have a bit of a headache I should sleep off before dinner."

As he slipped away, he could hear Vinay still grumble, "I still don't understand why he is here. How's he connected to all this? To Aunty Devi?"

Wouldn't you like to know, chum? Hector smiled, rushing off on the double. He had every intention of answering that question this evening. In fact, he had every intention of making this evening unforgettable.

But as Hector entered his room, just below Devi's he wondered. What is my connection to Devi? Other than being a cop? A pondering that stopped him dead in his tracks just inside the claustrophobic room. Why hadn't he told Devi he hated tight spaces?

"I'm trying to help her, that's all!" He whipped out his fancy suit, one he'd packed for this occasion, too excited to channel his favourite character, Hercule Poirot. Tonight was the night he set the scene. Tonight was the night each suspect would reveal something they hadn't wished to reveal if this was a Hercule Poirot story. Hector only wished Devi and Chaya were ready for their roles—especially Chaya.

As he dressed, he itched to know how they were doing, how Devi was doing. He itched to see her.

And you were saying? His inner Hector asked. What is your connection to Devi, aye? Why are you dying to see her? To see a smile on her face after all this is done?

Hector peered at his own reflection in the mirror as he donned his suit jacket on.

What does Devi mean to you?

"She uh ... she ..." He tried to come up with an answer. "She's a ..."

That's when his phone rang, to his surprise. He fished it out of his weekender where he'd dumped it once they'd headed out to sea. What good was a phone if they were in a communication black zone? A thing worthy of note as the yacht had sailed and anchored right where it had been on that fateful night in late November.

But he wasn't mistaken. That was definitely his phone twittering away in his bag.

"Hello?" he spoke into it, aware that the caller ID was anonymous.

"Hector! You gotta come, quick. Chaya is freaking the fuck out!"

It was Devi, calling from an unknown number. Where did she get a working phone out here?

Hector pulled the phone away a second to peer at the reception bars in the top right corner. Yep, there were two bars alright, that and the fact that the phone was almost out of charge. "Hang on!" he whispered down the line, rummaging through his bag for his charger, and barely made it to the power point as the phone gave a low battery warning.

"What? What's going on?" he cupped his mouth and whispered, afraid if he spoke too loud other guests might hear. They'd have to have sonic hearing to hear him through the sound of the wind and the ocean, through the walls that separated them, but still. Better safe than sorry.

"Chaya says she can't do it. She won't. She's literally sitting here in front of me breathing into a paper bag!"

"Calm down, Devi." Hector felt panic grip his throat. Chaya was a key player tonight. He needed her. Devi needed her. "What happened? Why is she suddenly panicking? I thought we talked about it and she was okay."

"Well, that was the day before yesterday, wasn't it?" Devi bit back in a hysterical pitch, enough to get his heckles up. He did not like what he was hearing. Not the 'Chaya says she can't do it,' bit, but that Devi was so panicked. He did not like it one bit. "Hector, how ... how will we do this without her help? How will we catch the person?"

That was a million-dollar question and as elusive as the million dollars he actually didn't have. "Try to keep her calm. I'm coming up."

"What if someone sees you?"

Hector pondered that for a split second and eyed his watch. "They won't. They're probably all busy trying to dress-to-impress for dinner. But I'll be careful."

With that, he left his phone on charge, grabbed his room key, slipped his feet into his fancy oxfords—his dad's really—pocketed his newest black notebook, one in which he'd summarised his key notes, and dashed out of the room, practically running up the spiral staircase.

"Whoa there, Nelly!" Marvin sing-songed as Hector planted his face on a barrel chest at the top of the stairs. He would have fallen down the stairs if it weren't for strong arms holding him in place. "Where're you going in such a hurry?"

Marvin Garcia wore a splendid tailored suit, no doubt heading down to the dining room early. Hector eyed the guy's midnight blue suit and felt a flush creep across his face. It looked expensive, putting his off-the-shelf one to shame.

I should have tried one of Dad's suits! Hector flashed a smile at the man who was an entire head taller than him. "I ..." quick, come up with an excuse, "I was just going to have a word with the Captain!" he blurted, noting the bridge up on the next level. "Since dinner's not for a little while, so ..."

Mr Garcia looked Hector up and down. "Looking good, Mr Smith."

"Not bad yourself." Hector hated admitting that Marvin Garcia cleaned up nicely. He could imagine how easy it might have been for the younger Garcia to get attention—after all, it worked on both the Dhungel sisters, hadn't it? At least for a while.

"I'll see you down at dinner. There's a glass or two of the world's finest whiskeys with my name on it." Thank god Marvin wasn't in a chatting mood but in a drinking mood and practically danced down the spiral staircase.

Hector scanned the deck, to make sure no one else was around, and when he thought the coast was clear, he tiptoed to her door, like a thief in the night; his heart hammering away, his muscles twitching at the slightest sound.

"It's me. Open up." He knocked softly, hoping they'd hear him and let him in before another guest happened upon him.

#

"What do you mean you can't do it?" Hector fought the urge to shake Chaya and beg, 'I need you!' but he thought better of it and tried a different approach. He sat in front of her on the vanity stool and looked her in the eye.

Chaya shook her head, her eyes wide and her breathing erratic. "I can't. I'm not the maid ..." her voice hitched higher on the word 'maid'. "What if ... what if I stuff it all up for you and this goes pear-shaped?"

"You won't." Hector reached forward and laid what he hoped was a calming hand on hers. "You don't even have to talk. Remember, I'm doing all the talking. All you're doing is sitting in on the show, in the maid's place. Just sit, nothing more."

Chaya looked past him at Devi, hovering right behind him, and shake her head again. "I ... I shouldn't have come ..."

Hector gave the young woman's hand a squeeze, something about the way her eyes reminded him of Devi, the same intensity in them, the same shape, as if in another life, these two were related.

"Look. I won't lie. I need you to fill in for the maid because it's pivotal that there isn't an empty seat tonight at the table."

"But what if they ask me who I am?"

"Well, that's easy. You're the elusive host's daughter." Hector smiled. "You're Holly Harlan, and your mother comes from old money. Since she isn't a fan of attention, she's chosen to dine with the Captain tonight, while you have joined us on her behalf. Simple. And I'll do all the talking. You just smile, and nod, and sit."

When Chaya continued to chew her lips, he gave her hand another squeeze. "Please. None of this will work without you."

"I'm not speaking?"

"No."

"I don't have to do anything?"

"Exactly."

The minutes Chaya took to decide were excruciating minutes to say the least for both Devi and Hector. Outside the room, they could hear the guests emerging from their rooms. The clock beside the ensuite door ticked closer to six, the designated time for dinner to begin. It was now or never.

"Please," Hector begged once more. "I'll even escort you to dinner." He offered his hand. "It will give me a cover for being in this room, in case someone sees us. You don't have to go down alone."

"Please," behind him, Devi pleaded as well for once. "Please, Chaya. It's a big ask, I know, but we're desperate to catch whoever tried to kill me."

Finally, after agonising moments of wondering 'Will she, won't she', Chaya nodded. "Fine," though she lacked all the confidence Hector wished she could muster. She was to play an heiress's daughter, not a nurse-coaxed-into-playing-the-missing-maid-and-nervous-as-hell role.

He rose from the stool and stood as tall as he could. "And remember. You're rich, you're confident, you're the host. Walk in there with your shoulders back and head high."

Chaya rose from the bed and did as he'd advised, and for a moment, Hector believed they could pull this off.

"Now, get ready."

#

Hector felt a strange nervousness as he peered around the dining table at the glamorous gathering. He'd imagined they'd spruce up a bit, but that they'd look like they were at a Great Gatsby party was surprising.

Bhawani Dhungel-Garcia glided in a gorgeous magenta gown that fit her slim figure well. Unati Slater had put on a cute little black dress with a halter neck, paired with great heels that made her look young and innocent. Her hair curled, was pinned softly atop her head, strands of loose hair framing that youthful face.

Ryan Pecker and his squeeze were out to win the cutest couple's prize, what with their colour-coordinated outfits. He wore a pressed white shirt with beige straight-leg pants and a light blue blazer. She wore a light blue satin dress that left little to the imagination.

Vinay Garcia wore a suit similar to his dad. It made Hector think they were both made from the same cloth at the same time. The only difference between father and son was that the father wore a blush-coloured tie with confidence, while the son lacked a tie and wore his shirt with the top two buttons undone, accompanied with a scowl on his otherwise handsome face.

Adrian Woodrow, a.k.a Miles the barman, wore tight black denim, paired with what one could only describe as a pimped-up version of a working man's white shirt, sleeves rolled up halfway up the arm, revealing his slew of tattoos; a dark leather bracelet ringed his sexy wrist. The whole air around him this evening oozed 'I'm sexy and I don't give a damn about Devi', a curious choice.

Don Nguyen reminded Hector of a man who had long since forgotten the saying 'Work hard, play hard,' in fact, Hector was certain the word 'play' didn't exist in the man's dictionary. He wore his boring old 'I'm a lawyer' suit, same as every day, along with his indifferent expression. He was attending tonight either as a professional, or like Hector, the man didn't have many fancy suits.

Hector doubted the latter. He knew lawyers could very well afford fancy suits, especially lawyers with clients like Devi and her late husband.

Joining them tonight above deck, and not cooped up in his galley, was Chef Tobias Fletcher. He'd made all the meals and prepped them, but he would not be serving them tonight. Tonight, his sous-chef was in charge—and yes, Hector had hired Toby an assistant for the trip. He wanted the man present at the table for the reveal.

The Chef was out of his whites and in a simple brown suit that paired well with his brown hair. The man smiled as he lifted his glass of water to Hector, signalling, 'Ready when you are, Constable.'

Hector nodded back. Let's go.

Chef Toby grabbed the attention of the wait staff. "Let's get the entrée out."

Food flowed from the galley via a dumbwaiter and onto the table, cordial conversation about the mundane burst out, often addressing their 'host' amongst them, who naturally seemed alarmed at best and turned to Hector for help. He'd promised her she wouldn't have to speak.

At one point, when her lack of engagement was noticed, Hector interjected. "Sorry folks, I forgot to mention Miss Harden speaks Auslan, so you'll have to excuse her silence. She's not being rude. She's just aware you don't speak the language." He hated having to lie, but in that moment, it was the only thing he could come up with to keep people from getting suspicious. That time wasn't yet, but soon.

For the rest of the dinner and dessert, the room remained fairly casual, easily falling into random topics like fashion trends, new generations, news across the world, etc. But as the dessert plates cleared, and the wait-staff took orders for after-dinner drinks, Hector waved at the bartender, a young lady with mad skills with the shaker.

She nodded and walked over with a ready tray of flutes. The best bubbles Hector purchased with Ma's money. Yeah, that had happened. Despite how she felt about catching Hector-Devi humping in her late husband's room, she refused to let her only son tap into his hefty savings. "It's for your retirement after I'm dead. Who's gonna help you then?" So, Eve, deep down a doting mother, signed a blank cheque—meaning, she basically handed him her no-limits credit card and said, "Go spend your dad's money," which he was glad to do.

Hector, to Chaya's right, at the head of the table, grabbed two flutes, one for him and one for her as the waitress walked past. Then he waited for all the guests around the oval table to take one too before he cleared his throat and stood up. "Evening, everyone."

"Evening," a muted chorus rang around the table.

Curious gazed pinned him to his spot. Several pairs of eyes seemed to question: Why is he addressing the table? Why not the host?

And those very eyes floated down to Chaya as she sipped her champagne, her chin held high, just as Devi had taught her. In fact, she was doing everything Devi had taught her about being a 'snooty rich gal' in the twenty minutes they had to get her ready. It was only Hector who could read just how tense her shoulders were from where he stood.

"You've all been wondering why I'm here and about our lovely host ..." he began as confidently as he could. He needed to command that room just as his hero Hercule Poirot would or Sherlock Holmes would.

Gazes shifted to him immediately.

"There's something you must know." Hector paused for effect. "About me and our host for the night, Ms Holly Harden and her mother—who wishes to remain undisturbed this evening. It is their generosity that allowed me to gather you all on this yacht this fine summer night."

"What?" Marvin bumbled, almost choking on his champagne.

Others peered at him oddly, like he'd grown two extra heads. Even stoic Don moved a muscle; in fact, he shifted in his seat and curiously eyed Chaya before focusing on Hector once more.

"What do you mean you've gathered us?" Ryan Pecker asked, forgetting to get handsy under the table with his new squeeze for once.

Hector smiled nervously. I can do this. "Allow me to introduce myself properly."

(...Continued in part B...)