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“I didn’t frame anyone!” Her voice rises an octave. “If anything, you’re the one trying to pin this on me!”
Drew shifts uncomfortably, and I turn my attention to him.
“Drew, we know Robbie couldn’t have taken Ms Laurent’s earrings. He was miles away when his keycard was used. Someone else went into that room but made it look like it was Robbie.”
Drew’s eyes flick to Samantha then away again. It’s brief, but I catch it.
“Someone who knew the resort systems,” I continue. “Someone who knew when Robbie would be off-site. Someone who might have been passed over for promotion in favour of Robbie.”
Drew’s face flushes. “That’s . . . you can’t just . . .”
“You’re right!” Samantha shrieks suddenly. She stabs a finger at Drew. “It could have been him! I wouldn’t have the first clue how to break into a guest’s safe or anything like that. But someone in maintenance would. They know all the tricks!”
“Samantha, what are you talking about?” Drew’s voice is strained. “I-I haven’t done anything!”
“You’ve always been jealous of Robbie,” Samantha insists. “You’ve moaned about him to me countless times. Maybe you framed him to get his job!”
For a moment Drew just stares at Samantha, speechless, then his confusion morphs into anger. “You’re not fucking pinning this on me. It was your idea! You’re the one who said you needed money for your debts. You’re the one who suggested taking Mr Ashford’s watch because ‘the old fool wouldn’t even notice’.”
“And we’d have got away with it if we’d stopped there! But once you started pinching things, you couldn’t stop, could you? The money from selling the watch would have been enough to solve my problems. I didn’t need the other stuff!”
They glare at each other, the air between them crackling with tension and betrayal. Then, as if simultaneously realising what they’ve just admitted to, they fall quiet, their faces paling.
“I . . .” Drew starts, faltering. “I didn’t—”
“I think we’ve heard enough,” Sinclair says, his expression grim.
“Fucking hell, Drew,” Robbie mutters. “So you were in on it. I thought we were mates.”
Drew scowls. “Mates? You were promoted over me, even though I’ve been here longer. And why? Because your daddy runs the place.”
“Excuse me?” Craig stands, his chair scraping across the floor. “Robbie was promoted because he was the better candidate. No other reason.”
Robbie looks at his father in surprise, clearly not expecting this defence.
“Better candidate?” Drew scoffs. “He’s only here because of nepotism. Everyone knows it.”
“That’s just not true,” Craig says firmly. “Robbie has a natural talent for the work. He can fix things I’ve seen others struggle with for hours. He earned that promotion.”
Something shifts in Robbie’s expression—a softening, a realisation that perhaps his father has seen and valued his skills all along.
“Well, it doesn’t matter now, does it?” I interject, unable to resist a moment of triumph. “Game over, you two. Looks like you’re not as clever as you thought.”
“This is your fault,” Drew snarls, his eyes fixing on me. “We’d have got away with it if it wasn’t for you!”
He lunges forwards so suddenly I barely have time to flinch. But before he can reach me, there’s a solid thud, then he stumbles back, blood streaming from his nose. Robbie stands between us, his right hand clenched into a fist, his chest rising and falling with controlled breaths.
My heart stutters. In the chaos of the moment, the significance of what just happened hits me. Robbie, who swore off violence seven years ago, just broke that vow. For me.
“That’s assault!” Samantha shrieks, pointing at Robbie. “You all saw it! Officers, arrest him! He can’t just punch people!”
“It was clearly self-defence,” Craig says. “Drew was going for Catriona. Right, sergeant?”
Sinclair clears his throat. “Er . . . aye, that’s right, Craig. Self-defence.” He glances at Muir, who nods in agreement.
“But there are two people here who need to be arrested,” Craig adds.
The officers move forwards, handcuffs at the ready.
