Hector eyed his mark like he was eyeing a piece of juicy steak. Hilde was tucking Devi back into bed. They had fed her, given her a 'break'. Now it was time to get back to work.

He narrowed his eyes from the foot of the bed. "So Adrian-slash-Miles guy. Why does he have a reason to hurt you?"

Devi waited for Hilde to finish fiddling around with the duvet before she answered reluctantly. "You have to understand, sometimes, in this industry, referrals go a long way in making a career."

"He's a writer?" Hector frowned. No wonder Devi had liked him, in that he's-almost-a-boyfriend kind of thing.

"He wanted to be." Devi traced her fingers along the hexagon patterns of the duvet.

"What happened? He never made it?" Hector peered past Hilde dug for something in her medkit.

"He might have if it wasn't for me." Devi chewed her lips sheepishly.

Hector narrowed his eyes at her again, leaning against the wooden board. "How so?"

"I may or may not have ruined his chances," she whispered, glancing out the window.

"What was that? I didn't catch it." Hector leaned further forward, another inch and he would have been in bed with her.

That was when Devi, who was feeling slightly guilty turned back to him. "He gave me this manuscript to read once. He wanted my opinion, given I wrote in the same genre. It was brilliant. I read it, loved it ... I even thought he could be the next Clancy, and I passed it on to my editor."

"So you helped him?" Hilde snapped up, holding a fresh gauge in her hand. "Why would someone she helped hurt her?" she fired the question at Hector.

"I have to look at everyone on board ..." Hector pouted. Damn it, Hilde. Miles was his top suspect, because he didn't like him.

"Actually," Devi broke their staring contest. "That kind of killed his chances. Turned out, he had plagiarised that manuscript from a friend back in college and he wasn't aware that this friend was actually a published author, writing under a pseudonym, with a fantastic agent who'd submitted an almost identical manuscript to my editor a while back, one she was buying."

Hilde gasped. "No way. Did he get blacklisted for that?"

"Practically," Devi admitted. "When I confronted him about it, he denied everything, said I was jealous he was a better writer than me, blamed me for sabotaging his chances, and quit. That was the last I saw or heard from him ... a decade ago."

Hector tapped his pen on the pad. "Could Miles ... I mean, this Adrian, still hold a grudge against you?"

"I mean, maybe." Devi shrugged. "But you'd think his had better things to do with time and energy. Maybe write another story under a pen name. Why would he need to seek revenge so many years on? It's not like I can turn back time."

"Some people hold on to grudges till they die." He may as well have been talking about himself, because his father died years ago, but he still hadn't forgiven the man for what he did, and nor was he planning to. "Especially if they think you ruined their life," he added, moving out of Hilde's way so she could get to her patient with the armful of supplies she'd returned clutching.

"I suppose." Devi winced as Hilde worked on her injured arm.

Hector averted his eyes, to give them some privacy, and drew another circle around Miles' name. I'm sure he's our guy! "So let's move on, after the dinner. What happened between you leaving that table and you getting stabbed, and somehow turning up on our beach?"

"I went to my room with my sis." Devi scoffed. Was she surprised Hector, now that he had the ball rolling, would not give her a break? Not really. She'd seen that impatient streak in him the past few days, like he was racing against time. Wonder why?

"You said that already." He sat back in the high-backed chair he'd spent hours this morning and stretched his legs out again. "What happened once you were in your room with your sister? You left the guests in the dining ... so either your sister stabbed you, angry enough that you were the other woman or—"

"My sister wouldn't hurt a fly!" Devi interrupted. "She wouldn't. I would, without remorse—given the right motive. Not her."

Hector made a note in his pad, 'Sis won't hurt a fly?' and went back to staring at Devi, doing his best to put on the bad cop face. "Then what, that weird knife magically stabbed you? Don't leave out any details."

"Can you believe this guy? Magically stabbed." Devi turned to Hilde. "No, I wasn't magically stabbed by the khukuri that should have been in my home, Hector—" she said to him in a mock tone. "—in a display cabinet, under lock and key. Of course, I was stabbed."

Hector tilted his head and rubbed his stubbled chin like he'd seen many detectives do in movies. I need a shave. He added a head nod, just for the heck of it. "So this khukuri," he said the word properly, as Devi had, "wasn't supposed to be on-board?"

Devi Dhungel shook her head. For one who was used to working with intelligent people, she hadn't been able to decide about Hector. Sometimes, he sounded like he knew what he was doing. Other times, like these, not so much. She sighed.

"Unless you're suggesting I brought it myself. Why would I? To cut the damn cake with Devi Dhungel style?" Though, as she said it, she knew she couldn't completely discount that possibility. She'd pulled a number of crazy stunts in the past to that were in line with the sophisticated, fearless, daring Devi Dhungel.

Hector shrugged, not wanting to admit that yes, somewhere in the back of his mind, he couldn't rule that possibility out. This woman seemed like she was someone crazy enough to cut her birthday cake with a deadly knife. In fact, she'd clarified that this birthday was a special one, one where she was kind of cutting ties with her old life. What better way to do that, symbolically, than to cut her cake with a knife touted to fell a beast in one sweep? He'd been researching things on the internet lately. The more he knew about Devi, the better for the 'case'.

"Fair enough." He made a note about the knife on the pad: Knife meant to be in her house. "Okay. So you and your sister are in your room. You asked the maid to bring your food there. Then what?"

Devi stared at the mounds under the duvet that was her legs, chewing on her memories like they were chewing had long lost its flavour. Flashes of images fleeted across her mind, none very clear, none slow enough to grab more than a handful of details. There, a kitchen trolley stood with food, something that smelled of seafood. A bottle of wine, open, on her dresser. She, pacing the carpet, mumbling something she no longer recalled. Her sister sat on the edge of her bed, shaken to her core, massaging her neck, asking her, "Are you sure about this, Di?" And then a knock on the door. Loud. Impatient.

"Someone knocked on the door. Sounded angry ..." Devi mumbled, still trying to grasp the patchy memories of that night.

"Who was it?" Hilde let out a breathless question, hovering above Devi, mid-re-bandaging her arm.

Until this moment, both Hector and Devi had almost forgotten she was still in the room. Devi turned to the young woman, who was equally invested in her story as the man in the chair. "Sit down, Doc."

"You don't mind me listening?"

"Me? No." Devi lifted her brows in Hector's direction. "Him? Not sure."

Hector hated Hilde had broken Devi's flow, but he couldn't let it show. He gestured to the bed. Go ahead. "So someone knocked. Who was it?"

Hilde sank into the foot of the bed and folded her legs beneath her.

Devi eyed the duvet again. Staring at it was far less distracting than staring at Hector's face, which was growing on her for some odd reason. She tried to recall the knock on the door and closed her eyes.

"Thump. Thump. THUMP. A giant paw attempting to bring down the door. Whoever it was, they really wanted in ..." she began.

#

Behind me, Bhawani jumps to her feet. Her wild, frightened eyes on that door. Her shaking hand reaches up to touch her fragile neck which is showing a ring of red. Red that makes my blood boil. I'll kill the fucking bastard!

"It's him." She barely breathes.

"It's okay." I will not let anyone near her again tonight. I grab the wine bottle off the dresser, shield her with my body, and approach the door. "Who is it?"

Bhawani tenses behind me, gripping my top, holding me back so I can't get any closer to the door. She's gone back to that fearful kid I used to sing to sleep at night, a kid who was afraid of the dark and the monsters that lingered there. Let there be monsters. No one was getting past me again tonight. Not if I can help it.

I loosen her grip on my top and inch forward some more. "Who is it?" I ask again, reaching for the handle with my other hand. It's shaking. Not the handle. My hand. "Who is it?"

"Di." Bhawani's fingers brush my back again as silence lingers on the other side of that door.

"It's fine." I slowly turn the handle and peek out through a small gap. I'm no dummy. I wedge my foot behind the door in case someone tries to barge in while the door is open. Instead of a huffing and puffing big bad wolf, all I see is darkness, darkness as vast and angry as the ocean; ready to swallow us whole. We're not out of danger yet.

A wave splashes against the side of the yacht. The salty water eagerly rolls towards the door, towards my feet. It's cold. I shiver.

"Ko ho?" Bhawani whispers, but it sounds more like a cry.

I open the door wider and peer out. I look left and right. The deck is empty. "No one." I close the door and click the lock into place. At least no one I could see ...

"Koi chaina? You sure?" Bhawani eyes are brimming with tears.

"No." I hide my trembling hands behind my back and tighten the grip around the bottle. No one was there now, but someone had knocked. Of that, I'm quite certain. "Go. Get ready for bed. You're sleeping here tonight. There's a spare pyjamas in my closet."

#

Hector was leaning so far forward on his chair that he may as well have been doing a chair asana in the air. "There was no one there?"

Hilde mirrored his move on the bed. "Then, who knocked?"

Devi shrugged.

"What happened next?" a new voice startled them all. Hilde even clutched her chest.

Hector actually fell off his chair, as they do in cartoons.

Devi gawked at the doorway, appearing the calmest. "Mrs Martinez."

"I brought hot chocolate and biscuits." Eve Martinez stood at the door holding a tray. An epitome of innocence, like she wasn't using the drinks as an excuse to join them. She'd been lonely.

"Ma! Couldn't you have knocked?" Hector moaned, getting on his knees and rubbing his sore bottom.

"How?" Eve walked to the bed and placed the tray down on the side table, then handed out the mugs of steaming drinks before settling herself on the other side of the bed with her own.

"I was wondering where you all disappeared to, and then I saw the weather's turned and the house got nippy, so I thought you all might like something hot while you listen to Ms Dhungel's stories." She sipped her drink as if it was a campfire story she'd walked in on and not a victim statement pertaining to a crime. "Please, don't let me interrupt."

"Where was I?" Devi blinked.

"Someone knocked on the door, but there was no one there when you opened it." Eve's brows lifted in delight, happy to assist.

"Okay." Devi looked from Hilde to Hector. Both seemed reluctant to tell Ivy to leave, so who was she to tell the matriarch to veto the premises. She hugged the mug of cocoa, eyeing the dark swirl. It reminded her of the swirl of the wine in her glass that night. "I needed a drink after that. The knock had rattled my bones, not that I was going to show it to Bhav ..."

#

Bhawani goes to the bathroom, and I pull two crystal wine glasses from the mini bar and pour each of us a drink. She's never one to rush out of the bathroom, and tonight, she has every right to shut people out, so I'm left waiting for ages.

I finish my glass and then drink out of the bottle. I'm drunk enough not know if the rocking is me or the boat. Doesn't matter. At least my hands aren't shaking anymore. Bhav doesn't need to see that. This night didn't go as planned. I know could have lost her tonight, and not just emotionally.

"Yay, go me! Happy fucking birthday!" I tip the bottle and ... nothing. Wine's gone, Bhav's still locked away in the bathroom, probably crying. I eye her glass. It's not like she's going to drink it. She's already had so much tonight.

But me, I could drink more. I think I ask ring housekeeping to bring me two more bottles. Then I sit and wait for Bhav. The night's still young and I've saved something for last. I was going to wait till we were back in Sydney to give it to Bhav but she's had a shitty night too.

I'm getting it out of my bedside drawer when another knock sounds, the same as before. Thump. Thump. THUMP. Another monster at our door.

"I got it!" I yell so Bhav can hear me. I don't want her to worry. "Stay there," I say to her, grabbing the empty bottle from the bed. I'm ready to whack the SOB over the head, whoever it is.

Luckily I don't. It's the maid, shivering like a wet cat, holding two bottles of wine as requested. I tell her to chuck them on the bed. She hesitates between my dresser and the fluffy mattress. Maybe she thought the dresser would have been a better idea, but I've left things sprawled over its surface: my makeup, hairspray, my jewellery; a discarded bra that dug too much.

Bhav walks out then, eyes red and puffy, but showered and ready for bed. She eyes the maid cautiously, like a spooked cat. Fuck. I forgot my sister has a thing about strangers seeing her crying or being vulnerable. It's the only thing we have in common besides the tone of our skin and hair colour. We don't like people knowing our weaknesses.

"Here." I grab my purse from among the things on the dresser and practically thrust a handful of cash in the girl's apron pockets and I snatch the bottles out of her hand. "Thank you. You can go now. Goodnight."

I don't think she liked that. She wears a scowl as she says, "Thank you, Ms Dhungel. Goodnight."

I hadn't meant to be rude, but after what poor Bhav's been through tonight—which I'm going to sue the asshole for—I dismiss the maid swiftly. I feel bad, of course. Not that I'll admitted it to her. Maybe I should have.

I walk Bhav over to the bed, pour her a glass—to replace the one I drank—maybe I give her a whole bottle of her own? I can't recall. And then we sit, talking, I think. About many things: my career and how I plan to revive it; my plans to jet-set around the world with her, if she'll come with. Anything I can think of to calm her nerves and make her feel safe.

#

"Wait." Hector held up his hands. "I know I said don't skip any details, but can we skip straight to where you got stabbed?"

"What? No." Hilde and Eve both echoed. "This is getting so good," his ma added.

"You're not four and this isn't story time!" Hector flashed the women his most annoyed look. "This is an investigation. I'm investigating. So, do you mind?"

Eve gasped. Hilde closed her mouth, and Devi turned to him like she was watching a tug of war.

Hector gestured for Devi to continue. "Please. Fast forward to who stabbed you."

"Who stabbed me?" Devi massaged the bridge of her nose, shifted her buttocks on the mattress to relieve pressure, and closed her eyes. Images flashed across her mind again.

Her sister sobbed one moment, and shook her head the next, saying 'I can't.' A bottle rolled on the floor from one end of the room to another. One knock came after another. Sometimes it was Ryan, with a puppy dog face, begging her, 'Let's talk in private'. Another time, Vinay virtually barged into the room, knocking past her shoulder to see how his mum was. Bhav sleeping like a kid, little purrs of snore. Another time, a knock, but no one again, just the waves crashing against her door and feet. Then she, alone in her room, pacing, holding something behind her back, wondering if Bhav was ready for it. Ready for what, she couldn't tell. The words, 'It's time' echoed in her mind. Had she said that? What was it time for? Who knew?

And then there was that scream she recalled, a blood-curdling scream. Was it her? Was it Bhawani? The maid? And why? A flash of blood on her hands. Was she bleeding? Was it the stab wound, or something else ?

"I..." Devi shook her head and glanced at Hector, unable to pluck one significant image from the crowd vying for attention in her head. "That's the part I'm not clear on ... I remember bits, but nothing makes sense. I don't know what came first... who ... "

"Tell me everything you remember." Hector held up his hand, brought out the Dictaphone again and pressed record. "Discount nothing."

Devi nodded and closed her eyes. "Someone asks 'Where is she?' I don't know who they mean. Me or Bhav ...? "

Another time, another knock. Or was it the same one as before? Someone ran down the dark deck when she'd opened the door, for what, the tenth time? Or was it the one time? Why were they running? Were they running towards her or away?

Then a searing pain in her shoulder, most likely from being stabbed. Was she in her room? But then why were her feet wet, as if she'd stood out on the storm-drenched deck? When she'd spun around, why could she only recall an empty room? Where had Bhav gone? Was Marvin back? Was Bhav the one who screamed? Is she the one running away? From Marvin? Was he back to finish the job? Was that how she got stabbed, because she got in his way, trying to save her sister?

Then the shearing pain again. Stabbed with her own khukuri. She remembered feeling shocked. Then the cold ocean washed at her feet. Why was she only wearing one sandal? She'd hit the railing at one point. Had she lost her other sandal then? Her side was also smarting. Was it going to bruise? And what was that whooping sound? Had the Captain turned on a siren?

On the bed in Hector's house, Devi rubbed the side of her hip where she recalled hitting it against the banister, and knew there was a bruise there, black and blue, so some of her memories were reliable.

She even recalled snippets where she'd watched the yacht from a distance, as waves swallowed her whole. Her lungs burning; gasping for air. Her arms were tired, so the waves had won. She wasn't the strongest of swimmers. She didn't know any Nepali who was ... then nothing. Maybe she was dying. This was it. She remembered laughing at the irony. Just a few hours ago, she'd declared she was done with her old life. She hadn't meant this, but maybe the universe had taken her seriously.

Then the wind whacked seaweed against her face and the voices of strangers woke her on some beach. She was surrounded by country bumpkins. Why weren't they helping? She remembered wanting to scream, to pick herself up and get away from them until Hector came by, until he'd saved her. She'd forever be thankful for that.

"That's all ... that's everything." A sickening knot formed in Devi's stomach as she said it. "To be honest, I can't remember what really happened once we left the dining room."

Hector turned off the Dictaphone and put it aside. He clenched and unclenched his jaw, hating how his heart kept sinking to his stomach. This was the part that was most crucial to his investigation. And it was all a mess.

Hilde, from the other side of the bed, said, "I told you she was suffering from some retrograde amnesia, Hector."

"Is it permanent?" He couldn't help himself.

Hilde shrugged. "I can't say for certain. She needs better medical care and diagnosis than I can provide here. She needs scans. It might be from damage to the memory-storage areas of the brain, or it could be a form of dissociative amnesia, localised to that traumatic event."

"So you're saying I may never recall who tried to kill me?" Devi peered at the doc.

"There's a slight possibility." Hilde nodded.

"Then we're fucked. If Devi can't recall who ..." Hector was saying this when his Ma interjected casually.

"There are other ways to find out who stabbed you." Eve collected the empty mugs from around the room. "I mean, yachts aren't cheap, and rich people take safety precautions seriously. I'm sure there were CCTV cameras on board to piece together the chronologies of Devi's memories. Reveal the who-dun-it. All Heck has to do is get his hands on those ... it's simple, really."

"Ma! That's it. That's it! I love that crime-obsessed brain of yours. Thank you." Hector jumped to his feet and cradled Ivy's head, landing a huge kiss on top of it. "I have to go to Sydney. ASAP."

"You what?" all three women said in unison, with various degrees of surprise.

Hector puffed his chest out. "According to the Chief, there's a parallel investigation running in Sydney. They probably have all the footage from the crime scene I need. All I gotta do is comb through them and find the culprit."

"You can't just rock up to Sydney!" Eve laughed. "Do you know how big that city is? Which police station is handling the case? The cops that are on it?"

"I don't, but the Chief might. Or he can find out." Hector gathered his things from the chair he'd called home all morning. "Ma, get him on the phone. Tell him I need help. Tomorrow, I'm going to Sydney come rain or shine." He rushed towards the door, all giddy.

"And what about our date?" Hilde's question brought him screeching to a halt at the doorway. "We still need a cover story so I can visit Devi every day."

Oh fuck. Between Devi and her stories, he'd forgotten about that. He turned, blushing to the nines. "Our date?"

"Yeah." All three women nodded, with various degrees of glee.

"Right." And so, Inspector Hector was forced to think of something other than packing his bags and heading off to the big city in pursuit of happiness. The date, a.k.a. the cover story was also important. And right now, it was the foremost thing he had to do before anything else.

But how?