Waves of Murder

by J B Raphael

  Yuk, she thought, and lied when she said,” Oh, that’s gorgeous.” I’ll give it to somebody for Christmas she said to herself.

  They were crossing the Ionian Sea to the next port of call, Cephalonia, a beautiful Greek Island sitting in the bluest clearest water in that part of the world. Famous for it’s exotic fish and sea-life, trips in glass bottom boats were a favourite of tourists.

  Cephalonia

  A flotilla of tenders ferried passengers to and from the ship which had to anchor in deeper water about a kilometre from the quayside. Jon and Liz were amongst quite a few who opted to stay on board. The ship was there for two days, they would go ashore tomorrow and probably take a trip on a glass bottom boat to see through the clear water, if the fish didn’t get in the way! he joked to Liz. She looked blank and bemused, “Never mind!” he said, and laughed.

  “Was that an Irish joke?” she asked, “I thought that it was the fish we wanted to see!” He laughed again. Liz softly punched his arm. They lay sunbathing on the , almost empty, forward sundeck. But at noon the sun had peaked and it was very hot, about 110F, even with factor 40 they felt as if they were burning. They almost ran into the air-conditioned, covered upper deck and sat panting on a long sofa. “I’m glad I didn’t go topless,” she laughed.

  “I’m not!” Jon said, “but maybe I’ll have a peek at them later!” he laughed.

  “Okay,” said Liz, “but I’m too hot for sex at the moment!”

  Moscow

  Katti and her brothers were still mourning the death of their father, they had no proof that Jon had killed him, but they were sure he had when Katti told them that he thought Viktor was her bodyguard, and that her diamonds had disappeared at the same time. With political contacts in the government they were able to alert agents attached to the Russian embassies in all the European countries. His photograph was forwarded to them but not as a blond Kieron Pearce, only the original dark Jonathan Weston, which was useless.

  New Rochelle - New York

  Mary-Lou and Mel had settled very well into married life, Mel’s job was a lot easier in New Rochelle, burglaries were the main crimes on his desk. There had only been one murder since his arrival at the Sherrif’s office and that had been quickly solved and the guilty one sent away for life. The area was full of wealthy retired people, large houses with well cared for front lawns with miulti-coloured flowers and shrubs. Expensive cars, mostly from abroad, sat in the drive ways, the local car-valeter had a very lucrative round calling once a week to wash, vacuum and polish the Mercedes, BMW, Lexus and Bentleys, “Morning Mr Lewison,” he said when the door opened to reveal a short man with a grey toupee.

  “Hiya Ben,” he said as he handed him the key to his Lexus. Having lost most of his family in the holocaust, he refused to buy German products, the Lexus being Japanese, “oh, you’d better clean the wife’s Volvo as well,” he added.

  “Thanks Mr Lewison, will do. Oh, by the way, that nice lady from the big house up at the corner, is off to Europe for about two months, she’s asked me to keep an eye on the house while she’s gone even though it has a police contact top-of-the-market alarm. She even gave me the code so that I could go in and feed the fish and water her indoor plants,” he said.

  Mr Lewison looked around, and put his finger to his lips, “I didn’t hear you tell me that,” he said. “Schmuck,” he said quietly to himself, “he’s going to be cleaning cars for a long time.”

  Yonkers

  “How about September for our holiday, honeymoon?” Mary-Lou said to Mel.

  “Yeah,” he said, “I’ll arrange it with the office, just let me know when, and book it. Where do you want to go?”

  “I thought Europe, and possibly cruise around the Mediterranean to one or two romantic places, Rome, Naples, Capri,” she said.

  “Shall we go back to London?”Mel said.

  “Yes, of course honey, that would be great, I only ever went on that business trip, and I was alone!”

  “Let’s do it!” Mel said loudly, “let’s do it!” and grabbed his bride for a passionate kiss.

  The Cesar Roma

  The time was getting close for Liz, little did she know she only had two days to live. “Hi honey, are we meeting up tonight?” she asked Jon.

  “Yes, of course, I’ll knock at your door at 7, okay?”

  “Fine,” she said. The phone went dead. It was the last formal night of the cruise, Jon tapped on the door at exactly 7 o’clock, the door opened to reveal a vision of beauty and sexiness that made his knees go slightly weak, “Hi Mr Bond,” she said, framing herself in the doorway with one hand on her hip and her left thigh protruding through the high split in her gorgeous navy and silver dress with shoes and handbag to match. She looked fabulous, but to top it all, she was wearing the entire collection, rings, bracelet, watch and the fabulous necklace. He thought he might bring ‘the job’ forward a day, while all the jewellery was readily available and not locked in her suite safe.

  First it was drinks in the ‘Venus Bar’, which had the huge statue of the Roman goddess in the centre. They found a corner booth and sat side by side, her dress fell open to reveal her lovely legs, almost to the hip. He thought, if it was tonight there would be no sex, no DNA and no fingerprints, as soon as they were inside the suite, he would do the deed. He would make sure she had plenty to drink. They sat chatting for about an hour, Liz was plied with champagne cocktails, while Jon sipped only one and made the second last a long time, until they went into the ‘Diana’ restaurant for dinner. They ordered a la carte, lobster, shelled and langoustine salad, with champagne sauce, at extra cost, “What the hell, I can afford it,” he smiled to himself.

  “What’s funny?” Liz asked.

  “Here I am eating the best food, sipping the best wine, on a beautiful ship, with the loveliest woman aboard, I’m happy, that makes me smile,” he romanced.

  She reached across the table, showing her cleavage, and took hold of his hand doing suggestive things to his fingers, “Are we going to fuck tonight?” she almost implored.

  He laughed, “Yes, I think there’s every chance, if I’m in the mood!”

  She slapped the back of his hand, “I thought James Bond was always in the mood!” She laughed, “You’d better be, ‘cause I’m feeling hot tonight, or as you say this side of the pond, randy!”

  After taking an hour to lose $200, they walked back to Liz’s suite slowly, he needed to psych himself up for what he was about to do. She put her key card into the slot and opened the door, he followed her in and shut the door with his elbow and a slight slam. She turned towards him just in time to receive his hands around her throat, his thumbs dug deep into her windpipe which immediately crushed. She tried to say something that sounded like ‘Jon’, her eyes bulged and her body went limp, he let it fall to the floor before testing her pulses through a tissue. She was undoubtedly dead, he bent down and closed her beautiful, staring, sightless eyes with a tissue. He now had to wait until 3am at the earliest to commit her body to the sea. He opened the sliding door to her balcony and heard voices, someone was having a nightcap, he daren’t go out in case he was seen. He started to remove her jewels carefully, having smeared soap on his finger tips just in case he touched something he forgot to wipe later. Three o’clock was a long time coming, when it did he went to the balcony doors to listen, ‘fuck’ he said to himself as he heard a man laugh to the left. He would have to wait longer, at 4 o’clock he went to the balcony again but this time could hear nothing. He lifted her, fireman style, up on to his shoulder and carried the body to the balcony and tipped it over the rail. He quickly returned to the suite and stood gasping, the black mist had lifted. He sat on the bed and started sobbing, after ten minutes he went over to the mini bar and poured himself a very large cognac, it went down in one gulp. He wiped the bottle and washed the glass, being careful to handle both with a tissue as well, which he put in his pocket. He opened the door, again with the help of a tissue, wiping the ‘do not disturb’ sign, he placed it o
n the handle, closed the door and walked quickly down the hallway. Back in his stateroom he poured another very large brandy which was swiftly followed by another. The effect worked and he soon fell on to his bed and into a deep sleep. Jon was awakened by a room operative to service the stateroom, he looked at the brandy bottle, apologised and said that he would come back later. Jon looked at his watch, it was noon, it had been over 8 hours since Liz’s body had gone overboard. He emptied his pockets and spread the diamonds on the bed, beautiful he thought, there’s 200 grand there, he said to himself, not a bad night’s work!

  Yonkers - New York

  Packing for Mel and Mary-Lou Novak was not easy, a month ‘doing’ Europe needed a lot of outfits for Mrs Novak, not so many for Mel. Their flight from JFK was at 6pm to London, Heathrow. Mel knew that they were well overweight on luggage allowance for American Airlines, but “that’s life!” Mel said. They would be spending three days in London, Mel had called the Reubens Hotel at Buckingham Palace and booked the same room above the stars and stripes. Their flight was on schedule at both ends, they caught the shuttle bus to Victoria coach station, as Mel had, and then hailed a cab, the luggage being the main reason. As it was only a short trip, Mel gave the cabbie an extra $10. “Hello again, little room,” Mel said as they walked into their home for the next three days.

  “Is the Queen at home in there?” Mary-Lou asked, pointing at Buckingham Palace.

  “Probably,” Mel answered, “we’ll find out in the morning.”

  “How?” she asked.

  “If the main gates at the front are open, with police guards then she is not in residence, if the gates are closed and the British flag is at full mast, then she is at home,” he said.

  “We’ll go there in the morning and take lots of pictures!” she enthused.

  “Sure honey,” Mel said, drawing her close and kissing her lightly, “but after a good full English breakfast, we may be doing quite a bit of walking,” he added.

  “Good, you need to lose a few pounds!” she said.

  “I know,” he replied,” it’s the good cooking you give me, happiness and contentment!” he agreed. They had a light, 2 course only, dinner in the hotel restaurant, then they sat in the bar with coffee and cognac before going to bed. Their London love-making was quite audible, the Queen could possibly have heard Mary-Lou’s orgasm!

  After their full English breakfast Mary-Lou said, “We really need to walk that off!”

  “We sure do,” Mel answered as they turned right out of the hotel to walk to the front of the Palace to see it in all it’s glory.

  “Look at that,” Mary-Lou said, as they turned the corner off of the main thoroughfare, “it’s beautiful.” She was awed by the Palace guards in their ‘bushy’ hats!

  “No, honey, it’s called a busby,” Mel corrected.

  “Whatever!” she said, “they’re cute.” Mary-Lou snapped away with her camera for about an hour and then they decided to walk across Green Park to Piccadilly and to see Berkeley Square, Mel was planning the route with his map of the west end of London. “This is so beautiful,” Mary-Lou said, as she stood in the middle of Berkeley Square with the trees in multi shades of green. Mel took many photographs including one of a Rolls Royce convertible, in the showroom. “Why did you snap that car?” Mary-Lou asked.

  “Oh, it’s just beautiful, and we never see them in our neck of the woods,” he replied, “I may have it enlarged and framed when we get back home! Who knows I might even buy one one day, it’s only $250,000!” he laughed.

  After three fabulous days in London taking in all the sights, it was packing time again. Their next rendez-vous was Paris, but this time by Eurostar, under the English Channel. They took a cab to Waterloo train terminus, direct to Paris, no airport, mich easier. Plus they would see some French countryside albeit at 125mph! “Fabulous!” Mary-Lou said.

  Paris

  A taxi took them to a family-owned hotel on Montparnasse, a lovely part of Paris. The Aviatic Hotel was small but very comfortable and the service excellent. It wasn’t until they checked into the hotel that Mel realised that Mary-Lou spoke perfect French. She had let Mel show the taxi driver the brochure with the hotel’s address. “Where did you learn to speak French like that?”

  “My mother was from Quebec, my original christian name was Marie-Louise and my first language was French, until we came to America when I was 4 years old.”

  Mel sat down on the bed looking puzzled, he wished he hadn’t asked, and just said, “Oh, I see.”

  “Tomorrow,” Mary-Lou said, “it’s the Eiffel Tower, the Champs Elysee, the Elysee Palace and Notre Dame.”

  “Whoa,” Mel said, “that’s about three days rolled in to one, I’ll need an extra pair of feet!”

  “And the next day, a cruise down the Seine in one of those glass topped boats,” she said.

  “And the day after that, you bury me!” Mel said.

  “Don’t talk like that,” she said, “at least give me a few months of married life!” They laughed.

  “Oh, you’ve got me for a lot longer than that,” he said, pulling her down on to the bed.

  “Has Paris had some sort of an effect on you?” she asked.

  “No, I feel like this anywhere when I’m with you,” Mel said. IT happened.

  VENICE

  Mary-Lou had booked the Orient Express from Paris to Venice, what a fabulous train journey, gourmet food, wonderful silver service and beautiful scenery. Through the Alps to Italy then across to Venice, neither of them had been there before. They arrived at midday, on what was one of the hottest days of the year, 105f. Their taxi took them to the Adelphi Grand Hotel, “It’s beautiful,” Mary-Lou said.

  “Wow,” Mel said, as he gazed at the 150 year old facade. As their cab stopped at the front, a porter stepped forward, pushing a luggage trolley, to take their bags into reception. They were already booked ‘on-line’ by Mary-Lou before they left home, in fact she had booked everything ‘on-line’. “I don’t know how you do it,” Mel said when she showed him all the tickets and paper-work for the entire trip.

  “Easy,” she replied, “I’ll show you how, one day!”

  “Buongiorno,” the receptionist said, “Signore and Signora Novak, yes?”

  “How did he know that?” Mel asked.

  “We’re the only yanks arriving with Orient Express labels on their luggage,” she answered, “are you really a detective?” She laughed.

  “I thought I was,” he said, “until now!”

  Rome (Cesaro Roma)

  Just a few hours and the cruise would come to an end, Jon had packed and was ready to go ashore, and as soon as possible. He would be the first at the gangway after settling his bill. “That’s £1,800,” the cashier said, “or $2,380,” she added.

  “Fine,” he said, “don’t need a receipt,” and gave her $2,500, “keep the change,” he said over his shoulder as he grabbed his bags and put them on a porter’s trolley. At the top of the gangway his blood went cold when he saw three leather-jacketed big men, standing by a black Mercedes. He also saw a taxi a few yards in front of their car. He walked slowly down the gangway wishing he had mingled with a group, but it was too late, he ran to the cab, dived in and told the driver, “Avanti! avanti!.” The driver was good, and was away from the quayside before the Russians had realised, they jumped into their Merc and were soon chasing the taxi, but Jon had chosen the right cabbie for the job! Up side streets, down side streets, even through alley ways just wide enough for the Fiat cab, soon he was at his apartment, he gave the cab driver $100, who wanted to kiss him!

  Gretta wasn’t at home, good he thought, and then saw a note pinned to the TV screen. It read ‘Hello Jonathan Weston’, that’s all. He grabbed one case and went down to the street, it took a while to get a taxi, but he was soon on his way back to the port. Walking around the quayside he was able, after about half an hour, to find a fishing boat. “Could you take me to Capri?” he asked.

  “Are you crazy?” the young fishe
rman said.

  “No, but I will pay you well,” Jon said.

  “How much?” the boy asked.

  “ $1,000.”

  “Let me see it,” Jon was asked.

  “When we get half way there,” he said.

  The lad looked at Jon’s clothes, his watch and his leather case, and said,” Okay.”

  150 miles straight down the Tyrrhenian Sea, staying fairly close to the Italian coast, it would take between 2 and 3 days, depending on tides and weather. How did Gretta know his true identity, he wondered. But she was obviously scared and moved out with all her belongings, but at least there were no police waiting for him. He also wondered if she took the car, shame he thought, it was a nice one, not to worry it’s only a lump of metal! One item of jewellery in his pocket will pay for another one.

  They lived on freshly caught fish during their journey and drank a strong red wine from a huge bulbous container, but not too much! They both needed their wits about them. Capri came into view at the end of the third day, Jon had given Guido $500 with the promise of the rest when they landed. Under cover of nightfall the boat heaved to at the very end of the long quay leading to the outskirts of the main town. It was quite a long walk, about a kilometre, and his case was getting heavier, he was dirty and reeked of fish, but he was alive and had all his money and jewellery. Guido became a friend and was pleased to have earned more in six days than in a normal month. It was 6pm and the sun was going down rapidly and he needed to find a hotel. Up a back street hill he suddenly found himself on the main drag, and opposite was a nice looking 4* hotel. He crossed the narrow, but dual, carriageway road at a crossing that drivers ignored! Walking up to the reception desk, a couple passed and held their noses when they had gone by. “I’d like a double room for a week, please,” he said as he put his passport and a wad of cash on the surface.

  “Si, signore,” the young girl said, “but our only double is being cleaned at the moment, it will be about 30 minutes,” she said, trying to avert her nose.