Free Cold Grave by Kathryn Fox Page A

while the DJ played a 1970s medley.
    Passengers had begun to filter up to the deck. Some women were dressed in full-length ball gowns, and a number of men wore dinner suits. ‘Why would you come on holiday to dress up like a penguin when you probably wear suits to work?’
    Anya imagined it was the women’s preference. With few formal occasions, this was the chance to dress up and feel glamorous. Martin preferred casual at every opportunity.
    Karen laughed. ‘You Aussies are so laidback. These guys get two weeks off a year and make the most of every minute.’
    A toddler waddled past in a tiny three-piece suit and slipped. A girl of around ten, in full make-up, maxi dress and heels, picked him up.
    Karen’s phone rang as she finished off her drink. ‘Excuse me, I have to get this. And it’s about time you two had some fun,’ she said.
    ‘Let’s get this party started!’ the DJ enthused. Bruce Springsteen’s ‘Dancing in the Dark’ pumped through the speakers. A group of middle-aged women squealed like teenagers and ran onto the dance floor. Their men stayed behind. Anya found herself tapping her fingers to the beat while Martin bobbed in time. There was nothing more they could do for Carlos and it was supposed to be a holiday. The last thing she wanted was for Martin to accuse her of being a wet blanket. He always thought she spent too much time working.
    ‘This takes me back,’ he said. ‘Remember when we first met?’
    Anya smiled. ‘There was a lot of good music back then.’
    The opening bars to ‘Footloose’ played.
    ‘You used to love this.’ Martin extended a hand. ‘Shall we?’
    Anya wasn’t really in the mood. She wanted to pick Ben up from the club and go to bed. ‘I’d only embarrass you. All arms and legs. Remember?’
    ‘Maybe you could teach me the praying mantis moves.’ With a cheeky grin, he grabbed her hand and led the way to the dance floor.
    Anya didn’t have the energy to argue. She assumed one song would satisfy him, and then they could get Ben and go back to their cabins. The women on the dance floor cheered when they saw a man had joined them. Slowly, other men took the plunge. The mood was infectious, and Anya forgot her fatigue and self-consciousness by the time ‘I’m So Excited’ came on, followed by A bba ’s ‘Does Your Mother Know’. Martin spun her in and out, and they laughed when she squashed his toes. After a lively set, the DJ changed tone and played a Michael Bublé ballad. Women dragged partners to the floor, and Martin slipped his right arm around Anya’s waist and held his left out. She was perspiring and her heart was pumping, but it felt good to forget the day’s events for a few minutes. She placed her right hand in his and her left on his shoulder.
    ‘I didn’t know you could dance like this,’ she managed.
    He had an impish expression. ‘Annie, I’ve changed a lot since our divorce. And . . .’ He spun her around the floor. Her feet followed blindly. ‘I have a lot of new tricks!’ He finished the move with a dip.
    She looked up at him and saw a different man. Martin had changed. He was more responsible and thoughtful. He had grown up a lot in the last four or so years.
    A blinding white light went off. One of the ship’s photographers had flashed in their direction.
    Karen suddenly stood alongside them. Anya lifted herself upright.
    ‘Can we speak?’
    Anya straightened her shirt and wiped her hands on her jeans.
    They followed Karen back to the table.
    ‘Sorry to interrupt, but I wanted you to know. The blood tests on our dead girl from this morning are through. She had a low blood alcohol level, but she also had a significant amount of GHB in her blood.’
    Anya stiffened. ‘The date-rape drug.’
    ‘It’s also a recreational drug used by people to increase their libido. Silly girl was drinking under-age, so she’s already done something illegal. It’s not a big stretch to think she either brought it on board or voluntarily