by steve higgs
Thirty minutes later I was wearing a breezy summer dress and being escorted to lunch by Barbie, still wearing her impossibly tight Lycra outfit, her blonde ponytail bobbing along behind her as she tried to explain macro-nutrients and superfoods to me. It was all gibberish so far as I could tell.
Apparently, she regularly provided the upper-deck passengers with tailored diets that would enable them to get healthy while surrounded by decadent food designed to make them fatter. While other staff were fed elsewhere, she was expected to accompany the guests to their meals to help them make the right choices, so, as if shackled to my jailor, we walked by the sweet trolley and took a table for two overlooking the prow of the ship and the pool located there.
With a menu in my hands my belly gave a meaningful rumble. ‘What looks good?’ Barbie asked, adding, ‘I’m going to have the quinoa, kale, and pomegranate bowl with a bottle of sparkling water. There is nothing better than staying hydrated, don’t you think?’
‘Um, yes?’ I hazarded. ‘I guess I’ll have the same.’ The description of the quinoa bowl was not enticing. I wanted the fresh, line-caught cod steak in champagne batter served on a bed of triple cooked chips. Or perhaps the Wagu burger. They both looked far more appetising, but I had to acknowledge that neither one would reduce my waistline. Twenty minutes ago, in the shower, once my heartrate had finally returned to normal and the sweat was washed away, I questioned whether the session Barbie had put me through had really been that hard. Yes, I had been ready to die for most of it, but could I repeat it? I had survived it once.
‘How often would you want me back in the gym?’ I asked, trying to keep a light air in my tone as if I was just causally making conversation.
‘Oh, that was just a warm up session for me to gauge where your fitness level is. Now we can really start to push you.’
Oh, my God.
‘We need to fit in at least two hours a day.’
Oh. My God.
‘Just for the first few weeks that is. After that, once your body is getting used to the punishment, we can add a few extra sessions in.’
‘I’m getting off as soon as I can,’ I blurted.
‘Oh,’ she said, slightly taken aback. ‘I thought you were on the around the world package.’
‘I am. I was. I’m not sure,’ I admitted. I opened my mouth to tell her why I was on board in the first place, but our food arrived. A white-gloved waiter delivered the dishes on a trolley, serving them delicately to our place settings. I’ll say this for my healthy plate of bland, it was colourful. It was nothing short of a kaleidoscope of colour.
The waiter unfolded a napkin with a flourish and placed it on my lap. Then withdrew.
I stared at the bowl of food. It didn’t do anything. I looked up at Barbie. Her face was set with an encouraging, if slightly, confused smile. I knew what the foods in my bowl were. I had seen them on menus and watched TV chefs doing things with them. I hadn’t actually ever eaten them though. None of them.
Tentatively, I put my fork in and took a bite. Across the table, Barbie was tucking into her bowl oblivious to my careful inspection. It was good though. Not like a big, fat, juicy burger kind of good, but still tasty and it was healthy stuff. If I had known eating healthy could have tasted like this, I might have tried it years ago.
Between bites, Barbie asked me, ‘So what changed your mind about the cruise?’ Barbie had no boundaries when it came to topics of conversation. I didn’t have to tell her about Charlie, but I did. It seemed I was telling everyone. Now that I thought about it, who was there that I hadn’t told? The captain had been my first victim, then Jermaine, then Jack last night and now Barbie. I was going to have to stop. I needed to get off the pity party but before I could consider what I needed to do instead, the unwelcome form of Mr Schooner appeared in my peripheral vision. I turned to see what he was doing to discover that he was making a bee-line to my table. There was no mistake, he was coming directly at me and I just barely had time to wonder what he wanted before he arrived, a small entourage of other men accompanying him.
He looked at me but didn’t speak, then inclined his head to Barbie. ‘Leave.’ It was a quietly spoken order that carried no opportunity for discussion. Barbie shot me an apologetic look, dropped her napkin on the table and darted away. She was clearly upset, which made me angry. I might not belong here. I might be the most ridiculous woman ever to sleep in the Windsor Suite, but I had still paid the money and I hadn’t done it so I could be treated like this.
‘Come with me, Mrs Fisher. Let’s not make a scene, eh?’ he demanded.
‘I shall do no such thing until you have explained yourself.’ He looked startled. Maybe no one ever stood up to him. He recovered quickly though, leaning down to get his face into mine. Though my pulse was quickening, I refused to flinch away.
‘Mrs Fisher. You will be coming with me whether you wish to or not. Now you can cooperate and walk out of the restaurant or you can resist, and we can carry you out. Which is it to be?’ What on earth was happening? Had Charlie reported the money stolen and tracked me to the cruise ship? Were they going to lock me in the brig or something? I didn’t need to ask though. Seeing the confusion in my face, Mr Schooner held up a clear plastic bag. Inside it was my purse. ‘You dropped this in Mr Langley’s cabin last night.’ He leaned in even further so that only I could hear him. ‘When you murdered him.’
‘What?’ I shrieked.
Mr Schooner stood back and instructed his men, ‘Take her back to her suite.’ The four men surrounded me.
‘Please, madam,’ one of them implored, not overly happy about the prospect of wrestling a middle-aged woman from the upper-deck restaurant. I complied, standing and allowing them to walk me back to my suite. I was in a daze though and barely conscious of the people looking at me as we passed.
How had I gotten to this point?
House Arrest
‘You will be handed over to the authorities in St Kitts,’ Mr Schooner explained. I was sitting in one of the high-backed chairs in my suite, lost and confused and struggling to make sense of the ground shifting beneath my feet. ‘The evidence against you is compelling…’
‘What evidence?’ I asked, interrupting his flow.
He stopped his pacing to stare at me. ‘You were seen leaving the restaurant with Mr Langley last night. Your belongings were found in his room proving that you lied about not seeing him after he dropped you off here and you were found in his apartment earlier today trying to disguise the evidence.’
‘None of that is true,’ I said, then paused for a second. ‘Well, apart from the bit about leaving the restaurant. That part’s true, but I was too drunk to have gone anywhere apart from to bed by myself.’
‘Inebriation is not hard to fake, madam,’ he shot back. ‘It is my task to keep the passengers on this ship safe and part of that task is to deal with crime. I never thought I would have to deal with a murder,’ he shook his head when he said it as if disappointed. ‘You will be confined to your rather palatial suite until we reach St Kitts. There will be a guard outside, so don’t try to leave, Mrs Fisher.’
He turned to go but I called after him, ‘Wait. Wait, there was a man last night in the restaurant. He was watching me and wearing dark sunglasses and a Rainmac. I saw him again today outside Jack’s room. He has been following me. He must have something to do with this.’
He eyed me. ‘Really? A mysterious man in a Rainmac and a pair of dark sunglasses. Like the ridiculous made up story you hastily concocted about looking for your rings. Please don’t waste my time and insult my intelligence, Mrs Fisher. You have been caught. The decent thing is to accept it.’ With that he strode from the room, the door closing quietly behind him as a man in uniform closed the door and shut himself outside.
I was alone again. But this time I was really alone. A single tear escaped to run down my left cheek. I swiped at it angrily. I was innocent so there was nothing to worry about, right? The police would investigate, and they would clear my na
me and find the real killer. Would they though? How hard would they look? Mr Schooner thought the evidence against me was compelling. Would they just lock me up for a few months while I waited for a trial and only then would I be able to plead my innocence?
I needed Charlie. I needed a lawyer and I needed Charlie. I took my phone from my bag and called his number. As I heard it ring at the other end, I began getting nervous. Would he even answer? What did I say to him when he did?
‘Patricia? Is that you?’ It was him. It was Charlie. I wanted to be able to have him put his arms around me and make me feel secure, but he had cheated on me and I didn’t know where that left us.
‘Charlie,’ I managed to stammer in reply.
‘Patricia tell me where you are, and I will come to get you. I’m sorry, Patricia, I truly am. Just let me come to get you.’
‘I’m on a cruise ship,’ I admitted meekly.
There was a confused pause at the other end, after which he said, ‘What?’
‘I’m on a cruise ship,’ I repeated. ‘We sailed from Southampton yesterday. I am halfway to Madeira already.’
‘But, how did you pay for that?’ he asked.
‘Don’t worry,’ I said as I sniffed back tears. ‘I will be getting off in Madeira if I can and will fly straight home.’
‘Madeira,’ he echoed, ‘I don’t believe this. What on earth are you doing on your way to Madeira, you silly woman?’
Hold on. Why was he questioning me? Why was he calling me names when I should be the one shouting at him? I didn’t get a chance to answer though as my door opened without a knock to precede it and Mr Schooner swept in again with a team of men. ‘Search everywhere,’ he instructed them. ‘Let me know if she attempts to intervene.’
I had had about enough of his attitude. ‘Charlie, I have to go. I will call you back shortly.’ I hung up the phone and stood up. I’m only five feet six inches but my rising rage was making me feel much taller than that as I crossed the room to get into Mr Schooner’s face. Almost toe to toe with him, while a shocked crew watched, I poked him in the chest. ‘Just what is it that you are going to say to me when I am proven innocent, Mr Schooner? Hmmm?’ I got no response as if the concept was unthinkable. ‘I appear to be staying in the best suite on the entire ship and you are treating me as if I have smuggled aboard and deserve not the slightest courtesy. Have you already proven me guilty? Have you?’
The rhetorical question gave him cause to pause. He opened his mouth to speak but I pressed on, cutting over him before he could speak, ‘I find you to be rude, Mr Schooner. My rings were stolen, the story I gave you for my presence in Jack’s room was accurate and once I have cleared my name, I will be coming for yours.’ There was a sharp intake of breath from across the room. I was getting carried away and threatening the man in front of me. I really had no idea what I was saying, or where the words were coming from. Meek, mild Patricia was fired up and acting like a princess in a tizzy.
‘Very good, Mrs Fisher,’ said Mr Schooner calmly. ‘I have not yet proven your guilt in this matter. Since I think it just a matter of time though, you will find me hard-pressed to extract an apology from. My men will be searching your room for further evidence. I must insist that you stay out of the way while the search is conducted.’
‘Perhaps I should speak with the captain,’ I raged, my anger fuelled by his calm.
‘The captain is well aware of your circumstances. I can assure you he delegates these matters for me to manage, but please feel free to waste his time with a call if you wish.’
I had to fold my top lip over my bottom one to stop myself from swearing. He was an infuriating man. There was to be no arguing with him though, I could see the futility of it. Instead I asked, ‘What am I to do about meals if I am confined to my quarters?’
He inclined his head in thought. Then said, ‘I will have a chef assigned to you. He will prepare whatever Madam desires.’
‘What about the use of the gymnasium?’
He looked at me quizzically and I thought for a moment he was going to scoff at my question since I didn’t look like a gym user. Perhaps he then remembered my lunch companion because he said, ‘I will have Miss Berkeley arrange private sessions with you. You will be escorted to and from the gym and have a guard on you while there.’
‘Who is Miss Berkeley? Is that Barbie?’
‘Yes. Is there anything else?’
‘Not yet,’ I snapped grumpily as I turned my back on him and stalked back to my bedroom.
The men employed to search my suite were making fast work of it and they were being quiet, considerate and careful. It was rudely intrusive nevertheless so I was glad when Mr Schooner appeared at my bedroom door five minutes later because I thought he was there to announce they were done. He wasn’t though.
‘I need the key to your safe, Mrs Fisher.’
‘I don’t have it,’ I replied, boredom in my tone.
‘Come now, Mrs Fisher. Failing to cooperate will not help your cause.’
I looked up to meet his eyes. ‘Check with my butler,’ I snapped. ‘I haven’t been on board long enough to use the safe. When we looked this morning, the key was gone. Perhaps Jack took it when he was stealing my rings last night. Did you consider that?’
‘Very well, Mrs Fisher, you can have it your way. Whatever you are hiding in there will be discovered when we reach St Kitts and I have a locksmith brought on board.’
Now I was mad enough to grit my teeth. ‘Get out,’ I yelled, looking around the room for something to throw at him.
Still calm, he said, ‘Quite the temper you have there, Mrs Fisher. Is that what got Mr Langley killed?’
There was no way to win with this man. My hand was hovering above a vase of flowers, ready to launch it across the room when I found some inner calm and stopped myself. I closed my hand and let it fall to my side. I needed to emulate the calm that he was forcing down my throat. With Jedi-like control, I took a steadying breath with my eyes closed, then opened them and fixed him with a knowing look.
‘Your attempts to provoke me are pointless, Mr Schooner. I will have my apology.’
He just grinned at the idea, then turned and walked confidently toward the door. He turned in the doorway for a parting comment. ‘Make sure you disable her internet and confiscate any communications devices. Phone, tablet, anything she can use to communicate with any accomplices.’ He moved toward the door, then stopped and spun around to face me again. ‘Your passport, Mrs Fisher. Give it to me.’
‘I will do no such thing and I don’t believe you have the right to confiscate it.’ I almost stamped my foot in anger.
‘I have it here, sir,’ one of the guards said, holding it up. It had been on the desk where I had placed it yesterday. He crossed the room and handed it to Mr Schooner who opened it and inspected it briefly before tucking it into a pocket. Then he was gone, the staff he had left behind like automatons, silently stripping me of my ability to communicate with the outside world. When one of them asked for my phone I just handed it over. I was angry, but I didn’t take it out on him. Soon I could hear them all moving toward the door. The man that had taken my phone said someone would be back to disable the internet shortly and then I was alone in my suite, surrounded by palatial opulence and trapped like a common criminal.
I felt an almost overwhelming need to lay on the bed and cry. So much had happened to me in the last twenty-four hours. Doing so wouldn’t get me anywhere though. I was suddenly on my own and even though I was completely innocent, I might still be in a lot of trouble. What if no one believed my version of events? I had to face the very real fact that I might need to find my own way out of this. How did I do that though?
Okay, Patricia, what do you know?
I swung myself into the seat at the writing desk and grabbed the mouse for the computer. Nothing happened until I found the power switch and while I waited for the screen to boot up, I grabbed a handy pad of paper to begin scribbling notes.
What did I k
now?
Not a lot was the answer but that was an unhelpful approach.
‘Come on, Patricia,’ I geed myself up and wrote, “mystery man,” in the middle of the page. Then I drew a line from that and wrote, “stolen jewellery”.
The computer finished its start-up sequence and sat waiting for me to use it, but now that I had started scribbling on the pad, I was coming up with more and more bits that I needed to factor in. Someone had killed Jack and though I had no idea what the motive for that might be, it wasn’t much of a leap to believe it was linked to stolen jewellery. I had thought Jack was joking about the jewel thief thing. I couldn’t yet discount that he had been, but if he hadn’t stolen my rings, then where were they? Come to think of it, if he had stolen them, where were they? Had the killer taken them?
I grabbed the mouse and tapped it a few times to bring up the pointer. With no idea what I was doing and nowhere else I needed to be, not that I was allowed to leave anyway, I was going to research as much as I could and see what I could learn. Typing Jack Langley into a search bar resulted in a dozen hits for different people. I was able to immediately eliminate half of them because they had photographs that were not the man I had met. The rest I had to click on and then study the information to determine that they too were not the right person. In five minutes, I had no Jack Langleys left.
Had I spelt it wrong. I tried spelling his last name with an E at the end - LANGELEY. No hits at all. I bit my lip. Why couldn’t I find him and what did that tell me? I picked up the cabin phone and pressed the button to summon Jermaine. He appeared about four seconds later.
‘Madam.’ I fixed him with a single raised eyebrow. ‘Sorry. Patricia,’ he corrected himself, ‘How can I help?’
I turned in my chair to face him. ‘Well, I didn’t murder Jack with a knife so what I could really use your help with is clearing my name.’ Suddenly, getting Charlie back and working out the issues with our marriage were a secondary concern that felt almost insignificant. Jermaine looked very unsure, like he was good with butler duties and this fell way, way outside of what he knew how to do. I patted a couch just across from me. ‘Take a seat.’
