For the next couple of days, nights, and early morning, while Eve and Chaya slept, Hector was with Devi—partially relishing the 'job' for taking longer than he expected. He paced her floor—or his father's old floor—sat on the chair; on the edge of the bed, and salivated at their progress.

Hector and Devi worked, spurring each other on with theories and possibilities; forgetting all about the breakfasts and lunches and dinners they were called to.

They worked, they laughed, they touched. Small gestures at first: a light tap on the hand for attention; an elbow to the side like it was an inside joke, brows dancing in animated question; the stroke of an arm when they needed affirmation. But soon, these infinitesimal moments became more. They missed the loaded looks Eve threw their way as they laughed, or their hands absently brushed one another, light touches that ignited a cascade of fireworks in their bellies. They were even absentminded around the nurse as she floated in and out of Devi's room throughout the day. They missed the moments when she hung around, often following their wild conversations with curiosity, like watching a train wreck.

Even his Dad's old corkboard and whiteboard saw the light of day again as Hector dragged them out of the garage. Hours melted into one another seamlessly. Notes upon notes on old Post-it notes made their way onto those boards. Threads linked one suspect with another, tightening their alibies, or found their recollections questionable at best.

They scribbled and hypothesised on the whiteboards in his dad's old office. They matched details from Devi's accounts of events against the CCTV footage, or rather Hector's copious notes on it. Together, they poked holes at guests' recollections of events, edited to make them appear innocent or near-innocent, perhaps. They formed questions that still needed answering.

They 'worked'. If one could call their hours together work, for often they'd go on tangents about the adventures Devi's had in her life for hours on end. Places she'd visited, places she thought Hector should go one day. Or the dreams and hopes he shared with her, about what his life's been like as the nerdy little rich kid in a small farming town, who knew next to nothing about farming. Ask him about syntax and idioms, meanings of random words too big for daily vocabulary, or discuss the writing styles of authors; he could spend hours recollecting things his father taught him. But ask him about the breed of dairy cows on their own farm or the crops their land grew—with hired help—he'd stare at you blankly.

Occasionally, Hector would find Devi distracted, staring at the nurse while she worked as if she were trying to figure something out, but other than that, they 'worked'.

And while they worked, Mrs Martinez grew wary, her mind clouded by suspicions that there was something going on between the two. So much so, she resorted to interrupting their 'work' as many times as she could, that by day five, there were no questions she left unasked.

From "You two want tea?", "How about a sandwich? Chaya brought some cold cuts from the deli in the village," or "Hector, Hilde called, asking about when you're free next, for dinner...", "Here, let me clear your lunch plates," or sometimes startling them as she lurked in the doorway listening to their conversations and responding with, "That sounds farfetched, don't you think? Why would Bhawani steal into Devi's house before the trip and pack her ceremonial blade when she could easily stab her with a knife from the galley while Chef Toby slept?"

Questions that irritated them most times, but other times, enlightened them to explore a new direction. By fifteenth December, just ten days sigh of Christmas—which was all but forgotten—there was no suspect safe from their gaze.

And all that work had done one of two things. One: not even Devi's sister was safe from scrutiny—though that fact upset Devi quite a bit. Two: all that 'work' had shrunk the distance between them like a shrink wrap exposed to heat. Hector had gone from pacing the floor meters away, sitting in the chair out of reach, or perched on the foot of the bed, with a pillow as a wall, to pacing the floor around Devi, to sitting with the chair pulled up close, to sitting with his legs brushing hers.

Whether Hector had planned or not, he'd somehow done it, gotten close to Devi, won her trust, and trusted her in return. But what would it cost him in the long run?

For you see, something strange and unplanned—even more so than locking himself away at his Ma's until he solved the dang mystery—happened that night, and a good thing it did too, for the sixteenth was going to bring a storm of its own, one Hector was ill-equipped to handle.

That night, Hector sat opposite Devi on her bed, accidentally speaking his mind, "It has to be the maid or Bhawani—"

"Don't say that." Devi placed a finger to his lips to shush him. Her bandages had come off. Her inflammations had gone down. Her one leg in a cast or the pink scars from her tumble among the rocks in the water was the only remaining signs that she was still mending. "She's my only family ..."

"Yes, but she was the closest—" Devi's finger pressed down on his lips harder and a strange flutter burst forth about his stomach. She shook her head, her lips parted, beseeching him to stop.

He gently wrapped his hand around her small wrist. The touch sent a ripple up and down his spine. "We have to look at every—"

"Possibility." She nodded. Yes, she knew. And was it cute that they had started finishing one another's sentences? "But she's my"—everything. Devi would have said 'She's my everything,' once upon a time, but now, on that bed, at that moment, in front of Hector, the word felt odd, as if a lie. Bhawani was no longer the only person in her 'everything' basket. A fact that shocked and excited our Devi, the hard-headed, hard-to-swoon damsel-in-distress. "She's my baby sister."

"I know." Hector nodded, taking her hand into his. "I can't close this case and keep you safe if you won't let me."

"I'm not your responsibility..." Her gaze was soft and pleading. "Why do you care?"

Their gazes locked for a long moment, their eyes searching for something in one another. What? Maybe it was an understanding or maybe it was love?

Steve's oddly wise words down at the station a few days ago rang in his ears: "Show her you care. Mean it."

"Because I'm a ..." He caressed her cheek gently, in the name of showing he cared. She leaned into his touch, to his surprise, for this was the first time his touch had been intentional, and she welcomed it. Something tugged at his heartstring then, and he knew it. He had to solve this come rain, hail, shine, or even Devi. "I'm just saying, how well do you know her? Sometimes, the people closest to us are the ones that betray us ..."

"Please." Devi closed her eyes and a stray tear rolled down her cheek.

Hector wiped it with his thumb, a thumb that found its way onto Devi's lips, as he wondered, What would Hercule Poirot do?

'Duh, he would stage a replay!' He almost heard Steve's voice in his head. "I bet she knows deep down who tried to off her ... maybe she's just too scared to admit it. To let that memory surface ..."

"You sure you don't remember who attacked you?" he asked, for what felt like the hundredth time within days.

"If I did, don't you think I'd tell you?" Devi opened her eyes. "I've been trying, but all I can remember is that the boat rocked, Bhawani and I almost went overboard. I yelled at her to go inside, I'll follow. Plan cancelled."

"What plan cancelled?" He suddenly sat up straighter. This was the first Devi had mentioned any 'plans' beyond the plan to burst everyone's bubble about inheriting money from her at dinner. What other plans did Devi have?

"I wish I knew. Maybe I planned to celebrate the night away?" Devi shrugged. "I mean, it's not like I can step aboard the yacht right now and see if it triggers my memory."

"Devi ..." Hector's mind burst with a fresh idea, an idea that was on par with his hero. "What if we did it?"

"What? Go back on the yacht?" Her eyes too dazzled—their minds on the same wavelength once again.

He jumped to his feet and paced a tight line next to the bed. "We could take the yacht out to sea again and replay that last day—"

"And maybe I'll remember who stabbed me!" Devi, eyes glittering, burst up on one leg from her chair, stabilising her wobbling self against his body.

"Exactly!" He grabbed her face with his hand, bringing it so close to him, laughing from euphoria. It was a brilliant idea. Why hadn't he thought of it earlier, rather than spending the last few days trying to complete a puzzle that had missing pieces? "We'll need the same yacht and invite all the suspects." He peered into her eyes.

"Put them in the same rooms!" Devi squeezed her arms around his waist tight, equally euphoric, nothing but an inch of air separating them. "But what about the maid? You couldn't locate her."

Hector looked around the room for a moment. "We could get a stand-in."

"Hire an actress." Devi nodded.

Ah, the word hire. It brought Hector's mood down a notch and his hands went lax around her face. "Shit. Hiring the yacht and the actress is going to need money."

"We'll need funds." Devi's grip around his waist loosened. "If I was still rich, I could have..." She peered up at his face. Her breath mingled with his. "What do we do?" she breathed.

A throat cleared by the doorway. Eve Martinez. She eyed them as if she had caught two teens doing the horizontal deed which she had strictly forbidden. "Call the police!"

"What?" Hector jumped away from Devi.

Ma stepped into the office and pretended to tidy up the mess of paper on the desk. "Call the Sydney boys. They are working the case too. Maybe they can get access to the yacht as part of the investigation."

And for once, Hector stood, not annoyed by his mother, but awed. "That's a brilliant idea, Ma."

"Of course." She haughtily pointed her chin up. "I'm making iced tea before bed. You two want some?"

"No, Ma, but thanks for the idea." Hector gave her a go-away look.

Eve Martinez glared at the two of them for a moment longer before she opened the door wide open and slipped out into the corridor.

By the time Hector hung up the phone, some minutes later, hope fizzled and he dropped his shoulder like a heavy sack of flour dumped on the baker's floor.

Devi peered at him. "So? What did they say?"

"They laughed at me." He shook his head. "Gordon basically said for me to leave the investigation and ideas to the big boys and just focus on the protection detail."

"They said what?" His Ma burst into the room as if she hadn't left. Hector wouldn't put it past her to have hung there just out of sight.

"They told me to stay in my lane." He sighed.

"Bullshit!" His ma rarely swore. "That is a load of bullshit! They know you're close to solving this before they are. They are just jealous of all the work you've done on your own."

"Doesn't change the fact that I'm a country cop with little experience."

"That's horseshit!" Devi chimed in, wheeling her chair around to face him. "You might have fumbled the first few days, but you're a good investigator. I agree with your mum. I call their bullshit."

For once, Eve Martinez looked at Devi with the same awe she had the first time she'd met the author. "They are just jealous of you."

"It doesn't matter." Hector slumped against the desk. "They don't want me involved in the investigation."

"But you gave them everything!" Eve was indignant. "They can't just cast you aside now. Go to the Chief!"

"Ma! I can't go to the Chief every time someone refuses to play ball with me. He's not my dad."

"No, of course not." She shook her head. "I just ... All these days you've spent cooped up in here has rotted your brain." She threw an accusatory look at Devi. "All I meant is call the Chief and run the idea by him. If he approves, you don't need those Sydney boys. This investigation is in your jurisdiction. Devi turned up in our town, not theirs, so you have every right to carry out the investigation as you see fit. If I was you, that's what I'd be doing. Isn't that right, Ms Dhungel? Isn't that what you think Hector should do, from a crime-solving perspective?"

"You're mum's right. Again."

Hector looked from one woman to another. "You think so?"

They both nodded.

"Right." He made a move towards the landline again.

"It's almost midnight, Heck," his mum said. "Go to sleep."

#

From Gordon laughing at his idea to Ma's recent odd behaviour, to how he could get his hands on the yacht, Hector pondered many things, unable to sleep. And when the house fell silent, he snuck down the corridor and knocked on Devi's door once again after Ma had shooed him off. He had possibly figured out how to hire the yacht and the actress they needed.

"Devi? You asleep?" He stuck his head in and stared at the shape in the bed, his heart jumping around skittishly.

"Hector?" She rubbed her eyes and sat herself up against the headboard. "What is it?"

"About the yacht ... I have an idea." He quietly closed the door behind him. "Can I come?" He pointed at the bed in the dark.

"Yeah." She patted the space next to her leg.

Hector quickly strode over to her and sat where she'd gestured. "I know how we can get the boat and the actress."

"How?"

"I have a handsome savings, thanks to Dad, and if needed, I'm sure I can convince Ma to loan me the rest—she's loaded. I'll say it's for my career. She won't say no." He beamed at Devi, loving the faint silver light bouncing off her tanned face. "What do you think?"

"No, Hector. That's your money."

"So? I'm not using it." He quickly grabbed her hands. "You can pay me back later if you like, when your book sells like hot chips."

"What book?" She narrowed her eyes, having forgotten all about a certain book launch her publishers had ramped up the release date for considering her recent 'missing' status.

"The one publishing soon."

"I have written nothing in a while, Hector. It's probably why I'm broke." Devi chuckled sleepily.

"What are you talking about?" He pulled out his phone, searched up 'Devi Dhungel Book Launch', and passed the phone to her. "You have a book called A Death Like No Other coming out in days. You don't remember?"

Devi shook her head, scanning one article after the other, her eyes going wider with each.

"The accident ... Hilde said you mightn't remember everything." Hector gave her a moment to absorb it all before he spoke again. "Since your disappearance, apparently your publishers have speed up the launch by a couple of months. Probably trying to leverage all the media attention you've been getting."

"I'd do the same if I was in marketing. But the world thinks I'm dead and I won't be seeing that money for a while, Hector." She handed the phone back. "So the answer is still a no. I can't ask you to throw away your savings."

"Why not?" He grabbed her hands and pulled them close. "Devi, I ..."

"Yes?"

"I ..." He struggled for words again, but it helped that the room was dark then and he couldn't quite tell if she was looking at him or just beyond his head. May as well say it now. "I like you." Heat slithered up his neck, his hairline burst out small beads of sweat. "I ... I like you. I think of you as a good frie—"

But before he could finish that word, Devi's lips, the ones he'd been dreaming about the past few days, landed on his with a soft, almost nervous touch. For a moment he didn't know how to react, but then, as the pressure from her lips lingered, he wove his hand through her hair and kissed her harder.

And soon, limbs tangled; breaths meddled into one, and clothes, well, they came off. Hector climbed into her bed, careful of her leg, and kissed every part of her body he could safely get to. Her lips, her cheeks, her eyes, her neck, her supple breasts until she moaned beneath him and demanded he take her.

The slow rhythmic thump of the headrest against the wall became louder and louder. More urgent. And Hector did exactly as he was told, he took her, in that dark room he'd entered somewhat innocently.

"Devi," Hector whispered, his lips caressing her ear.

"Yes." Her breath kissed his neck.

"I don't think you should come with me on the yacht."

"You really want to have that conversation now?" Her nails scraped his back.

"I'm just trying to protect you." He kissed her, moving faster than before.

"Oh, really?" Devi's moans and traveling claws down his back urged him on. "Less talk, more work, Inspector," she growled.

Hector obeyed, ramping up his movement to Devi's moans, until the lights turned on and someone screamed.

His fucking ma stood in the doorway, again, armed with a cricket bat she normally kept under her bed. Behind her, nurse Chaya stifled a yawn, no doubt woken up by Eve in a panic.

"All that racket, I thought we had an intruder!" she screeched. "Hector, what are you doing?! Get off Ms Dhungel, this instance! Oh, my god! You idiot! She's our guest."

Talk about mortifying!

Our young Hector, on the brink of making Devi come, had to stop himself and scramble beneath the duvet, unable to say, 'Get the fuck out of here, Ma!' while Ms Martinez rambled away like a loon from the corridor, horrified at her son.

"Get your butt out here this instance, young man!"

"I'm so sorry!" Hector mouthed to Devi, pulled on his boxers, and ran out through the patio door Forrest Gump style, into the night, not knowing where his mortified feet were taking him.