by steve higgs
It was a big room, or rather it was several rooms; a suite like mine only not so great and not so grand. Jack was laying on the floor in front of a couch, his face turned toward the door, his sightless eyes staring at the way out as if his final thoughts had been of escape. All around him the room was destroyed, and I could see into the bedroom where the contents of the drawers had been upended. The killer had been searching for something.
I just wanted my rings.
‘What are you doing in here?’ A man’s voice demanded from behind me. I turned slowly toward it, expecting to find someone in uniform and I was not disappointed. There were no fewer than five uniforms coming though the room’s entrance, four men and one woman. Peeking around the door was a woman in an all-black outfit that had to be the cleaner. She looked Hispanic and middle-aged and white as a sheet despite her tan skin. The woman in uniform was trying to calm her.
‘I asked you a question,’ the man said again, but now that I was facing him, I saw the question was directed at Jermaine, his member of staff, not me, the guest.
Jermaine’s eyes were filled with panic. ‘He’s my butler,’ I announced, fixing the man with what I hoped was a look of confident calm.
Seeing an out, Jermaine stood himself back upright. ‘This is Mrs Fisher. Mrs Fisher is the guest in the Windsor Suite.’
‘I met Mr Langley last night. I believe he stole my purse and my rings. He kept telling me he was a jewel thief.’ That got their attention. ‘But when I came to confront him, this is what we found.’ I swept my arm to show the man in charge the scene behind me.
The man had the same pure-white uniform the Captain had been wearing yesterday. His sleeve had only three gold rings around each cuff though. I would ask Jermaine later, but I expected to find that he was the second in command or whatever the correct title was for the man that was one below the captain.
As I watched, he grabbed Jermaine around his left bicep with a meaty hand. He moved in close to Jermaine’s face, making it look like he was going to whisper, then said, ‘Pull yourself together, man. And take Mrs Fisher elsewhere,’ turning to me he made a feeble attempt at putting on a pleasant face. ‘Mrs Fisher, I’m afraid this is now a crime scene and under my jurisdiction. You will have to leave.’
Oddly, I found that my feet didn’t budge. I was feeling indignant. ‘What about my rings?’ I asked.
He kept the fake smile in place. ‘My staff will thoroughly search and catalogue the contents of the room. If indeed Mr Langley is guilty of taking them, you will be informed. Please leave a description with Jermaine.’
Not quite satisfied with it all, I turned around again to look back at Jack and the trashed room. I felt as much as I heard the gruff man cross the room toward me.
‘Now then, madam. I won’t have any trouble, will I? I don’t want you to go all amateur sleuth on me and ruin my investigation with any poking about you might want to do,’ his tone stern. It made me wonder if he would have turfed me out physically if he could and then I wondered if my status as the guest in the Windsor Suite was the only thing stopping him. I decided though that there was nothing I could do. Jack was dead, my rings were missing and if they were here then I had to hope they would be found and returned to me. I really didn’t want to see Charlie without them on.
I strode by the man in charge, who had still not introduced himself, grabbed Jermaine by his wrist and left the cabin without another word.
The Suspect
Outside in the corridor, I let go a breath I hadn’t realised I was holding. Jermaine was right beside me. ‘Who was that?’ I asked.
‘That’s the deputy captain, Mr Schooner,’ Jermaine checked behind us and ushered me down the corridor a few feet before adding, ‘He’s a real ball-buster. Most of the crew refer to him as the Captain’s Rottweiler.’
Well, I didn’t like him. In my head, I acknowledged that I didn’t know the man but he stood in contrast to all the other staff I had interacted with so far in that he had not even attempted to be pleasant. I had to wonder what he might have done if I hadn’t left when I did. He looked ready to physically remove me. I could hear him now barking orders inside the cabin, the door of which suddenly slammed shut.
‘We should go,’ advised Jermaine.
I hesitated. ‘What about my rings?’
‘Do you have a picture of them?’ he asked.
‘Probably.’ I was scouring my head to remember if I had something on my phone I could use.
‘If not, a description will have to do. If they are in there, I am sure Mr Schooner will find them.’
‘Do you think they will find all the other missing jewellery?’ I asked, but I spoke again before Jermaine could, ‘Sorry. Silly question. You know as much as I do.’ I glanced back down the corridor toward Jack’s door and froze. Well, sort of froze, I stopped moving and grabbed Jermaine’s arm to stop him.
He said, ‘Ow,’ where I had pinched his skin. I shushed him and pushed him into a doorway so we were mostly out of sight. ‘What’s…’ I shushed him into silence again.
‘We are being watched,’ I whispered. ‘There’s a man down the corridor, hiding behind a plant. He was in the restaurant last night, by himself and he was watching me then too.’
‘Who is he?’ Jermaine asked.
I shook my head. ‘I think that’s something we need to find out. Don’t they say the murderer always returns to the scene of the crime?’
Jermaine drew in a sharp intake of breath. I turned to get a hand over his mouth in case he was going to squeal again. ‘Sorry,’ he mumbled through my fingers. ‘This is all a bit much. I mean, I have watched British crime dramas on TV and there is always someone getting murdered, but I didn’t expect this when you came on board.’
I wasn’t sure what he was babbling on about but I wanted to see if the man followed us. ‘Let’s head back to the room,’ I said, making myself visible in the corridor again. I wanted the man to see us and despite an almost incontrollable urge to see if he was following, I couldn’t look to see if he was for fear I would tip him off that I had spotted him.
Jermaine followed a step behind, quickly catching up to say, ‘Your suite is the other way.’
‘Then let’s take a circuitous route to get there. Whatever you do, don’t look, but we need to see if he is following us. We can do that when we turn a corner.’
‘Okay,’ Jermaine agreed reluctantly.
We very shortly came to a wide atrium, the corridor ending as it emerged into the sunlit area. There were glass panels to our left and right, I guess that should be port and starboard although I couldn’t tell you which was which for my life. Glorious blue skies were all around and there was a bustle of people going here and there. A pair of escalators joined this deck with one below it, passengers and staff alike getting on and off ahead of us.
To our left, I spotted a bank of shops. Grabbing Jermaine’s hand to make him hurry, I fast-stepped it to the shop, swung inside and found my way to the display window so I could look out and watch for my suspect.
‘Can I help Madam with anything?’ asked a stiff French accent from behind me. I hadn’t even looked at what sort of shop we had gone into but since I was now peering from between ballgowns, I had to guess it was a dress shop.
‘Just, erm, looking, thank you,’ I replied, lifting a price tag to inspect it in a fake display of taking interest. The number staring back at me from the tag would have made me spit out my beverage had I been drinking.
‘Perhaps Madam would be interested in the sale on the next level?’ The lady was trying to be polite while also hoping to convince the badly dressed, plump woman away from her high-end gowns.
I could feel her coming toward me but Jermaine intercepted her. ‘Madam is staying in the Windsor Suite.’ It was all he needed to say as the lady’s attitude shifted gear and her voice went from slightly snooty to liquid caramel.
‘But, of course. Madam must take her time and inspect the fine garments. Please feel free to try anything on. It
can all be tailored to fit. We have a twenty-four-hour service, no charge, of course.’ She continued to prattle on behind me though I tuned her out to concentrate on the passage we had just left.
The man that I had seen in the restaurant last night sidled out into the sunlight. He was trying to be inconspicuous and in so doing was making himself highly visible. Like last night he had on sunglasses, although to be fair, now that he was out of the passage and into the sunlight, he probably wanted sunglasses on, but the hat and Rainmac, which gave him a Humphrey Bogart-eqsue look were ridiculously out of place. It was his movements more than anything though that made him stand out. He sidled from the point where the passage terminated in the wide atrium until he reached a large plant in a huge pot. Then, from behind it, he pushed two fronds apart to peer through.
Who on earth was he? Better yet, why was he following me?
Not able to spot his quarry from his position inside the plant, he stepped out, finally exposing himself and began hurrying across to the glass balustrade so he could check the escalators and the deck below. Whether he saw someone he thought might be me or not I couldn’t tell, but he glanced about to see if he was being watched, failed to see me peeking between the display items in the window behind him and got on the escalator.
‘Come on,’ I yelled to Jermaine. He was admiring a plum-coloured off-the-shoulder dress in taffeta when I grabbed his arm again and yanked him after me. ‘He’s just gone down the escalator.’
‘Isn’t that what we want? To lose him?’ Jermaine asked, clearly confused by my actions.
‘No. I want to know why he is following me.’ We got to the escalator but the man had already got off at the bottom. I made Jermaine go in front of me so I could hide behind him. The man in the daft hat and coat didn’t look back up though, he looked around, couldn’t see us, and by the time we got to the next deck down, he was gone. Standing in the middle of the wide space, with a confused butler hovering next to me, I wriggled my nose and wondered what I was doing. Surely, I should be reporting the man to someone and asking them to investigate his odd behaviour. Instead I was doing exactly what Mr Schooner had warned me not to do: I was amateur sleuthing. Only thing is, I have no idea what I am doing or even where to start. Even though I was thoroughly curious about what had happened to Jack, I couldn’t work out what I could do about it. How would I go about the process of snooping around? Would I recognise a clue if I found one?
Frowning at myself, I admitted I was being silly. I was dragging poor Jermaine around on a wild-goose chase for no good reason and he was politely putting up with my antics because he was assigned as my butler.
‘Sorry, Jermaine. I’m not usually this crazy.’ Jermaine kind of shrugged to say it was fine.
Perplexed by indecision and doubt, I forced myself to focus on something I could do. I had sworn last night that I would find a gym and shed a few pounds while I was on this trip, and there were more important things for me to do than snooping around, such as finding out how to curtail my trip, get my money back less the amount I owed them for passage to the Caribbean and work out how to arrange a flight home. Plus, I seemed to have skipped breakfast.
Fitness and Diet
On the way back to my suite, I asked Jermaine what the process was for curtailing my trip and whether he could help me to arrange a flight home. He was, of course, ready to assist with that and with all my needs including that of providing me with a healthy diet and some physical activity. I had a lot of conflicting priorities rampaging around my head: win Charlie back; find my wedding rings; work out who the mystery man tailing me is. However, thirty minutes later, as I was standing outside the frosted glass door of the upper deck gym, I put them all on hold. Some exercise as a distraction would be good for me.
I pushed the door open and went in. ‘Hello,’ said a lycra-clad, size zero image of female perfection as I cautiously ventured inside. ‘Mrs Fisher? Jermaine said I should expect you.’
‘Hello,’ I replied. I was willing my feet to move forward, but they seemed quite reluctant. I had been a gymnast until my twenties and distinctly remembered having a thin waist at the time. It was a distant memory though, the hours of honing and stretching so far in the past that they might just as well have never happened. ‘Are you, Barbie?’
‘Yes,’ she replied brightly, then saw my hesitation and came to get me. I had a brief thought of escape but missed my chance as she was taking my hand and leading me in.
Nuts!
‘So, what is it I can help you with, madam? Would you like some general fitness exercises to perform or would you like to transform yourself while you are on board? I understand you have booked the around the world cruise. Three months is enough time to transform your body or find your inner strength. You set the goals; I am just here to help you realise them.’
Barbie had a permanent smile, just like the doll. It was beguiling somehow, and I fell under her spell. I meant to say that I was planning to get off at the next opportunity but my lips betrayed me. Before I knew what I was saying, I was bragging about being a gymnast a “few” years ago and signing up to get fit.
She had squealed and clapped her hands in excitement before snatching up a clip board with a form for me to sign. I filled it in wondering if it was actually a waiver so the firm couldn’t be sued after I had a heart attack in the gym.
‘I’m so happy,’ Barbie said. ‘We are going to become so close. Is it okay if I call you Patty? I just know we are going to have the best time. I love helping people find their inner strength. Okay let’s go!’ Her brain seemed to be wired directly into the mains. It was hopping from one thought to the next, her sentences coming out in a torrent. She led me from the reception into a side room that had a scale on the floor and a chart on the wall, plus an odd-looking device that reminded me of the set of dividers I used to have in my school geometry set. These where twenty times the size though.
‘First we need to establish our baseline to work from,’ said the gorgeous stick-insect as she ushered me onto the scales.
If I could have come up with a reason why I couldn’t be weighed I would have, but my brain wouldn’t fire, so I stepped unhappily onto the device half expecting it to yell, “One at a time,” as I did. I glanced at Miss Perfect, but all she did was look at the number the scale displayed and tap the tablet in her hands to note it. She then took a tape measure and noted the girth of my hips, chest, thighs and arms and then picked up the giant dividers.
‘What are they?’ I asked.
‘Callipers,’ she answered while failing to explain, but as she advanced, it was obvious they were to be used to measure the excess on my belly. A final entry on the tablet and she set it down before bringing her face up to mine. ‘Ready?’ It was a rhetorical question though, as she then grabbed my hand and all but bounced through the next frosted glass door and into the gym itself, which from henceforth will be known as Igor’s Dungeon of Pain.
Barbie took me through some stretches, warming me up gently she said, then put me on a treadmill with a slight incline to walk for five minutes. After two minutes I was sweating profusely and out of breath.
Barbie came over to check on me. ‘Okay, I think you are warm now. Shall we get started?’
‘Started? I think I’m okay for today. I don’t want to push it?’
This was the point that I realised my mistake. Barbie’s perfect smile faltered. ‘Push it?’ she squeaked. ‘You don’t know what pushing it is. It’s time to get fit, Patty. Let’s go!’ The last two words were bellowed in my face like a sergeant major to a new recruit. Terrified and confused by her blend of encouragement and rage, I spent the next hour jumping, running, getting up, getting down, and lifting weights which included myself and all with the personal guidance of my very own personal torturer, I mean trainer.
I kept trying to stop because I needed a rest. Each time she would say, ‘Is that how you get fit? Is that how you get your figure back? Does resting burn calories? I don’t think so. Get moving!’
/> Then, just when I thought I might pass out she said, ‘Well done, Patty. That’s it for this session.’ I stared her dead in the eyes because I thought for a moment that it was a cruel trick of some kind. It wasn’t though. The session was over, and I had survived.
‘You did ever so well. How are you feeling?’ she asked. I held up a hand to ask for a moment of respite then threw up next to her feet.
‘Ewww,’ she said as she quickly backed away. ‘That’s nasty.’
On wobbly legs, I backed away and collapsed. Honestly, I think I might have lost consciousness if I hadn’t got my head to the floor first. Looking back, I should have seen the warning signs as the other gym patrons looked horrified when I went in to the gym with her. I guess they had seen her in action before. Laying on the floor, sucking in deep, ragged breaths and thankful to still be alive, I decided I didn’t really want to be fit and get thin after all. Once I had escaped the gym, I wasn’t coming back.
Barbie knelt next to me and said, ‘Jermaine said you wanted help with nutrition as well. It’s about lunchtime and after that work out, your body will be craving nutrients. Shall we go to lunch together? I can help you select the right food to aid weight loss and replenish your energy levels.’
‘Okay,’ I managed weakly. Willing myself to get up didn’t seem to be working. Lifting an arm, I said, ‘I might need a hand here.’
Barbie laughed at me as she said, ‘You are so funny.’ Behind her an orderly type person, wearing the same cleaning outfit I had seen on the lady at Jack’s apartment, began to throw something absorbent over my vomit.
With legs that threatened to go on strike I took a step toward her. ‘Here let me.’
‘Oh, goodness, no,’ said Barbie as she moved to block my path. ‘Thank you, Selina,’ she said as she motioned to the lady now on her hands and knees. Then she ushered me toward the door, saying, ‘Let’s get you cleaned up for lunch, shall we?’
