Free Dying For a Cruise by Joyce Cato Page A

game was, of course. But she would spike that , make no mistake about it. She flapped her hands in front of her face again, making a great show of it, and said petulantly, ‘It really is hot. I think I’ll go upstairs and take a shower.’ She smiled vaguely in their direction and left, confident that neither man thought her departure in any way connived.
    But she might have thought differently if she’d glanced back casually over her shoulder and seen the way her husband watched her go, his dark eyes glimmering with amused malice. But she was too self-absorbed to do so, and thus went blithely on.
    On the rail, the macaw also watched her go, and then flew across the deck to land on a round, white and orange lifesaver. It began to nonchalantly preen itself.
    ‘Bugger me, Gab old son, but I envy you that wife of yours,’ Lucas said jovially. He was in a good mood. He was always willing to be generous to his guests when the Stillwater Swan was gliding across the water.
    Gabriel Olney merely grunted.
    Jasmine went straight to the stairs, genuinely glad to be out of the heat, and walked swiftly to their room.
    Lucas had the master suite, of course, facing the prow, but she was quite happy with the bedroom they’d been allotted, which looked out over the port and rear of the boat. Once inside, however, she abandoned all thoughts of ablutions and walked instead to the chair by her husband’s side of the bed.
    He had changed into casual clothes for the deck games, and she went straight to the navy blue jacket that he had, typically, arranged with an almost obsessive neatness over the back of the chair. Her hand slipped into the breast pocket and removed the wallet. She ignored the large wad of paper money, and instead rooted through the side pockets, with all the concentration of a pig hunting out truffles. She gave a slight gasp of triumph as she withdrew a stiff piece of paper. It was obviously a cheque, and as she opened it, her eye fell to the written-in amount and she gasped once more. Louder, this time.
    The sum, as she had suspected, was almost large enough to wipe out their entire savings. Or, to be strictly accurate, Gabby’s entire savings, since Jasmine hadn’t a bean to her name.
    She had married Gabby solely for his money, of course, and the lifestyle of ease and plenty that came with it. He had married her to have an attractive wife and a bed mate whenever he felt the urge. It had been, as far as she’d been concerned, a perfect arrangement.
    Trust Gabby to try and renege on it.
    She’d suspected the way his mind had been working for some time now, ever since Lucas Finch had first invited them onto the paddle steamer last year. Gabby’s eyes had simply lit up at the sight of it.
    Jasmine took the cheque firmly between her fingers and tore it in half, then put them together, and tore again. She dropped the four fragments of paper into the pretty copper wastepaper bin nestled neatly under the side table and nodded.
    She jumped as a slow hand clap started up behind her, and spun around, her face a picture of fury and angst at the sight of her husband.
    ‘Well done, m’dear,’ Gabriel Olney said, and brought the mocking applause to an end. ‘Unfortunately, I can easily write out another one.’
    Jasmine bit her lip furiously.
    ‘And, needless to say,’ Gabriel continued, looking eminently amused, ‘I will do so.’
    Jasmine tossed her head back. She was not defeated yet – not by a long shot. ‘Lucas will never sell to you. You know he won’t. You can wave twenty cheques under his nose and carry on doing it until your grasping, greedy little fingers fall off.’
    Gabriel smiled, somewhat grimly. ‘And that’s just where you’re wrong for once. Oh, he’ll sell all right.’
    There was something so confident in her husband’s tone that Jasmine felt a small trickle of very real fear shiver down her back.
    ‘Hah!’ she snorted with a bravado that she hoped didn’t sound as false as it felt. ‘He