[Lady Justice 11] - Lady Justice and the Cruise Ship Murders

by Robert Thornhill

  “Let’s spread out,” I suggested. “They can’t be too far away --- the blip was on the screen when we got on the elevator.”

  Reyes turned to his officers, “Each of you take the decks on either side of the ship and we’ll check the halls. Detain anyone until we can question them.”

  We were so close to putting our hands on the perps, but it was beginning to look like they had slipped through our fingers again.

  With only one more day at sea, we were going to need a break if Lady Justice was to prevail.

  As the security officers burst onto the Lower Promenade deck, Luke and Gwen Larson stepped off of the elevator into the Crow’s Nest and blended with the passengers having a drink at the bar.

  CHAPTER 15

  Day #5 at Sea-Cruising the Gulf of Alaska

  Our search had been futile. No one was in the halls and the few passengers on the outside deck checked out.

  We were disappointed. We thought that we had them cold, but we’d missed them by just a few minutes.

  Our conversation at dinner that evening was subdued. Our Alaskan vacation was drawing to a close and our prospects for bringing the perps to justice before we docked at our final port didn’t look good.

  After dinner, we went to the Showroom Theatre for another wonderful performance by the ship’s ensemble.

  Up to this point, we had experienced very smooth sailing. The gentle motion of the ship had actually been quite pleasant --- almost like being rocked to sleep each night, but I had noticed, right after supper, that the movement had become much more pronounced. At the end of the performance, I discovered why.

  The Captain made a rare appearance onstage and gave us a brief weather report. For the first four days of our voyage, we had been on the Inside Passage with land on both sides of the ship. That fact, along with the calm, sunny weather, had kept the ship’s pitching to a minimum. That was all about to change.

  We were now sailing the open seas through the Gulf of Alaska and we were about to be engulfed in a rainstorm with buffeting winds and high seas.

  The Captain assured us that there was nothing to be concerned about, but with the inclement weather, several precautions were being taken. All outside decks were now off limits and he advised that if anyone was prone to motion sickness, it might be a good time to take preventative measures. With swells ranging from nine to fifteen feet, the ship was definitely going to pitch and roll.

  After the show, there was to be a late night dessert buffet around the pool on the Lido Deck.

  Under normal circumstances, Ox would have been the first one in line at a dessert buffet, but I could see that the big guy was getting a little green around the gills and I had to admit that I was a bit queasy myself. Nevertheless, the girls didn’t want to miss seeing the fancy pastries whipped up by the ship’s chefs, so we headed to the Lido Deck.

  The Lido was on deck #11 near the top of the ship, and as soon as we stepped off of the elevator we realized that the pitch was much more pronounced. The water was actually being sloshed out of the pool as the ship rocked from side to side.

  Under normal circumstances, the sight of chocolate, whipped cream and thick icing is quite alluring, but that night was a different story altogether.

  Ox couldn’t eat a bite and neither could I. After the girls had ogled the craftsmanship of the pastry chefs for a few minutes, Ox pleaded, “Can we go now. I think I’m gonna be sick!” I seconded the motion.

  The Captain had mentioned that anyone needing motion sickness medication could report to the ship’s infirmary. Ox figured that he’d better do just that.

  I had anticipated that I might be afflicted if things got rough. I don’t do well on rides that go round and round. At amusement parks, I have difficulties on the merry-go-round, and the whirly-gig things leave me staggering, so before we left, I had purchased wristbands with plastic buttons that were supposed to press against the pressure points that control nausea.

  Ox and Judy headed to the infirmary and we headed to our cabin where I could slip on my wristbands.

  On the way, I noticed that every door exiting to an outside deck had been roped off with bright yellow tape with the words, ‘No Admittance’. The Captain hadn’t been kidding.

  I undressed as quickly as I could and jumped in bed with my bands in place. As I lay there in the dark, the gentle rocking that had lulled me to sleep on previous nights had turned into a roller-coaster ride.

  Even with my eyes shut tight, it felt like my head was swimming in circles. Somehow, I drifted off into merciful sleep.

  When I awoke, the ship was pitching even worse than the night before.

  I stumbled into the bathroom. In my defense, I was dizzy, the ship was rocking back and forth and I was desperately trying to hold on to the wall with one hand while aiming Mr. Winkie with the other.

  Evidently, I didn’t accomplish any of that with any degree of success, because when Maggie came in right after, I heard, “WAAAAALT!” That usually means that I missed.

  We dressed and knocked on Ox and Judy’s door.

  Judy was all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, but I could see that Ox had experienced a rough night.

  The girls chatted away as Ox and I followed along behind, holding the walls for support.

  Ox normally eats a huge breakfast, but that morning, all he wanted was black coffee. Unfortunately, Judy persuaded him to eat a piece of toast as well.

  Like the night before, the motion on Deck #11 was even more pronounced than in our cabin.

  The longer we sat there, the greener Ox looked, until finally he resembled the Jolly Green Giant on the vegetable can, only our giant was anything but jolly.

  Suddenly, he jumped up from the table and made a beeline to the nearest trashcan where he deposited his morning toast and coffee.

  It was hard not to notice the big guy with his head buried in the trash, coughing and gagging, and from the reaction of the other diners, I guessed that some of them had a rough night too.

  Several of the unfortunate ones closest to Ox’s trashcan clapped their hands to their mouths and desperately sought trashcans of their own.

  It appeared that Ox had started an epidemic, and as I listened to the cacophony of intestinal distress, I could feel myself falling victim as well.

  Finally, there was nothing left and after a fit of dry heaves, Ox stumbled back to the table. “I think I’d better lay down,” he mumbled.

  With Ox leaning on Judy and me hanging onto Maggie for support, we staggered out of the Lido Buffet.

  It was hard to look at the horrified faces of the other diners as we passed their tables.

  For some reason, the girls hadn’t fallen victim to the motion sickness and the last thing they wanted to do on their last day at sea was to sit in a dark cabin listening to their guys moaning and groaning.

  As Maggie tucked me into bed, she said something about her and Judy going to a presentation of The Art of Flower Arranging in the Culinary Arts Center.

  At that moment, I really didn’t care where they were going as long as I didn’t have to go too.

  The last thing that I remembered was Maggie kissing me on the forehead and slipping quietly out the door.

  Luke and Gwen Larson watched with amusement as the big cop heaved his breakfast into the trashcan.

  “The old guy looks like he could puke too,” Gwen said.

  “Maybe this is our chance for a little payback,” Luke said. “Neither of them is going to be much of a handful like that.”

  “They’ve cost us our opportunity to get the gold,” she replied, “so I wouldn’t be opposed to a little payback.”

  They watched the two couples stagger out of the Lido with the men hanging onto their wives.

  “I’ll bet they’ll be putting the guys to bed and then taking off to some activity,” Luke said. “If they do, that’ll be our chance.”

  They followed, but took separate elevators to Deck #6. They waited until the four of them had disappeared into their cabins bef
ore returning to their own room. They cracked their door just enough to watch for the wives coming down the hall.

  When they passed and turned the corner to the elevators, Luke picked up the door card reader and the two knives they had used to murder the couple in cabin #415.

  He handed one of the knives to Gwen. “Let’s do this!”

  It was just past ten when Maggie and Judy arrived at the Cultural Arts Center. The program was supposed to have started at ten, so they were surprised when they entered the room and the presenter was packing away her arrangements.

  “Over already?” Judy asked.

  “Never started,” the woman replied. “I guess with the rough seas, everyone’s laying low. No one showed up.”

  “So what now?” Judy asked.

  Maggie looked at the daily program and her watch. “There’s a Thomas Kinkade Art Exhibition that starts at ten-thirty. I’m worried about the guys. We’d just have time to stop by the room and check on them before the exhibit starts.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Judy said. “I’ve never seen Ox like this. It’s like he’s a big kid.”

  “Walt’s the same way when he’s sick,” Maggie replied. “Guys just don’t handle sickness like we do.”

  They took the elevator to Deck #6 and headed down the hall to their rooms.

  They were nearly there when Judy stopped short and grabbed Maggie’s arm. “My door is ajar --- and so is yours,” she whispered.

  “Do you think they’re up?” Maggie asked.

  “Not a chance. Ox could barely move.”

  “You don’t suppose ---?”

  “Yeah, I do. Be careful!”

  Judy pushed the door open and saw a figure with his arm raised over Ox’s still form. She saw the glint of a knife blade reflected in the light from the hallway.

  “NOT ON MY HONEYMOON, YOU BASTARD,” she yelled and her years of training as a military MP kicked in.

  She flew into the room and grabbed the man’s arm just as the knife swung toward its target.

  The sound of someone yelling startled me from a sound sleep.

  When I opened my eyes, I saw a woman’s face contorted with hate, holding a knife above her head.

  I heard Maggie scream and it jolted me awake just enough to roll to the side just as the woman plunged the knife into the mattress where my body had been a moment before.

  The woman pulled the knife from the mattress and raised it to strike again. “Not this time, old man,” she hissed.

  I grabbed her arm, but in my nausea- weakened condition, I could sense that I would soon be overpowered.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something swinging in the air and I wondered if the last thing that I would ever see was a nausea-induced illusion.

  Then there was a ‘crack’ as the swinging thing struck the woman in the side of the head.

  She dropped on top of me like a rock just as the hair dryer that Maggie had used like a bolo struck her again.

  Maggie pulled the limp body to the floor. “I leave you alone for just a few minutes and I come back and find you cavorting with another woman.”

  I had to admire the fact that she could crack a joke at a time like that, but then she broke into tears and threw her arms around me.

  That was the Maggie that I knew.

  CHAPTER 16

  Day #6-Seward and the Alaska Railroad

  Judy had called Alejandro Reyes on the ship’s phone.

  Luke and Gwen Larson were just regaining consciousness when Reyes arrived at our cabins. Both were dazed and bleeding from the can of whoop-ass that the girls had laid on them.

  “Jesus, Walt, did you have to get that rough?”

  “Never laid a finger on them,” I said, pointing to Maggie and Judy.

  “You gals did all that?” he asked with surprise.

  “Nobody messes with our men,” Judy said, handing Reyes the two knives. “If we’d have been a minute later they would both have been shish-kabob. I’m betting that these were the murder weapons used in cabin #415.”

  “So what happens now?” I asked.

  “It could get very complicated, I’m afraid,” Reyes replied. “The murder victims were American citizens, but they were killed in Canadian waters on board a ship registered to the Netherlands. We’re going to have to sort this thing out to see who has jurisdiction. The main thing is that they’re not your problem anymore.”

  “Maybe not,” I replied, “but the man that sent them certainly is.”

  Reyes took the Larson’s to the security room and held them there while he searched their cabin.

  When it was all said and done, with the murder weapons, the door card reader and the safe-cracking tool, he had all the evidence that he needed to put them away for life --- or maybe get the needle, depending on who had jurisdiction.

  The Larson’s were more than willing to co-operate, hoping for leniency, and spilled their guts about the whole scheme that had been cooked up by Louis French.

  We now knew for certain who the mastermind was behind the attempted gold heist. What we didn’t know was where he was or if he still had his heart set on the gold.

  When we were about to leave the security office, Reyes said, “One more thing.” He went to his wall safe and pulled out the bag of gold. “Can you get this to the Stewarts for me? My hands are pretty full here and since you have to de-board so early tomorrow, I may not see them again.”

  “Be glad to,” I said, taking the gold, “and thank you for all your help.”

  “No --- thanks to all of you,” he replied. “If it weren’t for you, we may never have caught the bastards that killed our passengers.”

  It was our last night aboard ship.

  We enjoyed one last meal with Den and Mukti and left generous tips for each of them as well as our room stewards.

  Even though our cruise had been anything but peaceful, having it come to an end was a bittersweet moment.

  We all decided to turn in early because of the next day’s hectic schedule.

  The ship was to dock in Seward at five in the morning, but since there was no International Airport in Seward, we had to take the Alaskan Railroad to Anchorage, spend the night and catch the plane back to Missouri the next day.

  The killer was that we had to board the train at six o’clock, which meant that we would have to haul our butts out of bed at four in the morning. The other problem was that all of our luggage, except our carry-ons, had to be in the hallway outside our room by midnight. The stewards would have it loaded aboard the train and we wouldn’t see it again until we arrived in Anchorage.

  The Stewarts weren’t about to let the gold out of their sight for a whole day in an unlocked suitcase, so they had to pack the loot in their carry-on.

  By ten o’clock, our bags were packed and stashed in the hall. We tumbled into bed for the last time aboard the ship.

  Having nearly been skewered, plus the twenty-four hours of nausea, I was dead tired, but as I lay there with Maggie by my side, I remembered what I said to myself when the Larson’s slipped through our fingers. “We’re going to need a break if Lady Justice is to prevail”.

  As I replayed the day’s events, I realized that if Ox and I hadn’t been barfing up our heels all day, the Larson’s might not have tried to kill us, and if it weren’t for the cancellation of the flower arranging, Maggie and Judy might have come back to dead husbands.

  We had gotten our break, for sure, but who would have figured that it came as a result of fifteen- foot waves out on the high seas.

  Then I thought of another guy whose butt had been saved by a high wind on the Red Sea. His name was Moses. I wondered if there was any connection. If so, Lady Justice must have some friends in high places.

  Louis French snapped his phone shut in disgust.

  He had been calling the Larson’s number since four-thirty. With no answer, he could only conclude that the idiots had botched the job --- again --- and worse, they might have even been caught.

  They were amat
eurs and he had no doubt whatsoever that if they were caught, they would sing like canaries to save their own skins.

  He had to assume that everyone knew his identity. The old cop and his wife had seen him and taken his picture on Mount Roberts, so that meant that a makeover was in order.

  With the Larson’s dismal track record on the cruise, he had anticipated the worst and made preparations.

  At five-forty five, French purchased a ticket to Anchorage and boarded the Alaskan Railroad with a carry-on that he hoped would end this silly game of cat and mouse once and for all.

  The jarring alarm at four in the morning was both a blessing and a curse. I don’t do the wee hours of the morning very well, but I was relieved to discover that the ship was no longer pitching and bucking like a rodeo steer.

  We showered, dressed and met our friends in the Lido Buffet for one last quick breakfast.

  We were cattle-herded once again, as twelve hundred passengers lined up to exit the ship and head for the Alaskan train.

  Many, like us, were going the hundred and fourteen miles to Anchorage to catch planes to where ever they called home, while others would travel the four hundred and seventy miles through the mountains and Denali Park to Fairbanks.

  Our portion of the trip was to take just over four hours.

  The four of us stayed close to the Stewarts and their little suitcase in which they had hidden a fortune in gold. We knew that French was out there somewhere and could strike at any time.

  Unlike the White Pass Train, the Alaskan was full sized and much longer. We were herded onto car #2417, the second car from the end.

  Also, unlike the White Pass Train, we were encouraged to move from car to car. In fact, they specifically pointed out that there was a lounge car where adult beverages could be purchased and consumed. I was guessing that it was a profit thing.

  Surprisingly, the train pulled out of the station right on time and we were on our way to Anchorage, the final leg of our Alaskan journey.