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really sorry to disturb you, but it’s about the incident this morning. Our head of security has asked if you could meet him as soon as possible.’ He leant closer. ‘In the ship’s morgue. Something about the body.’

4
     
    FitzHarris greeted Anya at the morgue.
    ‘Thanks for coming.’ This time he shook her hand. ‘Please understand that you’re under no obligation to further assist in this matter.’
    ‘If I can help, I will.’
    FitzHarris nodded and led her into an area directly beneath the medical centre. The sudden change in temperature sent a shiver through her. ‘How many bodies can be accommodated?’
    ‘Most ships I’ve worked on can store three bodies, but this one has storage for six. I guess it’s because of the sea crossing between Hawaii and Fiji. Normally the family would disembark at the next port and the body would be repatriated from there. Sometimes, people request their loved one be buried at sea. In that case, we can do a small service with the captain officiating. Obviously, it’s something we wouldn’t advertise.’
    Anya wondered about the implications if a post-mortem was required. In this case, without a pathologist to confirm the exact cause of death, a death certificate could not be issued. Small ports couldn’t always satisfy international travel requirements for a deceased person, let alone provide facilities and qualified staff for a post-mortem.
    ‘What happens from here? Are police likely to come on board?’
    ‘I’ve notified the captain, and he’s liaising with head office. According to our procedures, they’ll notify the Hawaiian coastguard who in turn contacts the FBI.’ He scratched the back of his neck. ‘I’m still waiting to hear back, normally they respond quicker than this.’
    ‘So what are you asking me to do?’
    ‘Doctor Novak took some bloods. We can test for basic things here but I thought you might be able to give us an expert opinion.’ He walked over to a metal door and opened it. Dark hair was visible. He pulled four gloves from his hip pocket.
    ‘You might want these.’
    Anya took a pair. Due to the cold temperature, the powder on the latex made her cough.
    Fitz slid out the metal drawer containing the body, and the stench of vomitus filled Anya’s nostrils. This time, a white sheet covered Lilly to the neck.
    ‘Would you agree there was alcohol on her shirt?’
    ‘It was definitely present,’ Anya said.
    FitzHarris took notes. ‘Apparently, the family swear blind she had never drunk before and never would. The sister spun some story about how Lilly couldn’t sleep so snuck out to Centennial Garden at around 10.30 p.m. to read – wait for it . . . Shakespeare.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘If she was checking YouTube or texting, I might buy it. Wouldn’t be the first time a kid from a good home went off the rails first chance they got.’
    Anya examined Lilly’s hands – they were fine-boned with long, sinewy fingers. The tips on the left were thickened and raised. She checked the other side. Those cushions were bluish and soft. Every nail was neatly trimmed and free of polish. None was broken or damaged, to suggest a struggle. ‘Calluses are the result of repetitive stress and friction. The girl could have played a stringed instrument like the guitar. See the left hand?’
    Fitz agreed. ‘Any further thoughts on why she was so wet?’
    They had already agreed she hadn’t been in the spa or pools. ‘There were men with high-pressure hoses cleaning near where she was found, and then afterward as well.’ Anya emphasised the point about the destruction of evidence.
    FitzHarris looked across, jaw clenched. ‘Are you serious? I left specific instructions for my men to secure that scene.’
    ‘Nothing was cordoned off. The deck’s been cleaned and passengers were already back in the spa.’
    His face hardened. It was unclear whether he was embarrassed at the incompetence of his staff or the fact that Anya knew before he did. He