This fast-paced psychological thriller, with its clever ticking-clock technique, builds the tension to the very end. Set on the Island of Reunion in the Indian Ocean, it reads like Scandi Noir in a tropical paradise, pulsating with atmosphere and local colour. Against a rich cultural history and background of racial tensions, the mystery of a missing tourist will have you questioning every motive and suspecting every character.
Again it is Margaux who cracks.
‘Martial left the garden fifteen minutes after Liane went up. Discreetly. Everyone was sleeping in their deckchairs. I was alone in the pool doing lengths. He probably thought no one saw him go. He came back half an hour later and stayed with us for about twenty minutes before going up again, openly this time’...
‘Are you sure?’
‘Certain. At first, I thought he was meeting his wife for a ... debauched siesta, let’s say ... and I thought to myself how lucky she was.’
Take that, lawyer! A solid blow from the right.
‘Then, as time went on, I thought, gosh, she really is lucky.’
A good left hook.
‘But you see my darling, in reality she wasn’t very lucky, was she?’
The lawyer ducks and dives, then unleashes an uppercut.
His wife’s eyes cloud over suddenly. Almost sincere, she asks:
‘Lieutenant, do you really think Martial killed his wife and that ... um native?
Be careful, my lovely, you’re skating on thin ice there. Never, ever use that word on the island. Your lawyer husband can explain it better than I can. Maybe you’re getting what you deserve in bed, after all.