Death on the Bella Constance (A Jesse Watson Mystery Series Book 6)

by Ann Mullen

  “No, but I appreciate the offer,” Billy said as he shook her hand. “I’m sure we will see each other again.”

  “Thank you for your help,” Maura said in a raised voice as Billy and I started walking away.

  I waved to her, and then looked back at Billy and said, “She’s a nice person. I met her earlier. She sought me out to ask us to help find her father’s wallet. Her parents don’t speak English, so she had to translate for me. I’m just glad they have their stuff back.”

  “Every ship has at least one pickpocket on board. It just so happens that this pickpocket had other bad qualities as well.”

  “You can say that again. He’s a killer.”

  “He hasn’t killed anyone, yet.”

  “The day isn’t over.”

  When we reached the Med Center, we were surprised to discover that the door was locked. Billy jiggled the knob, and finally after not getting a response, he banged on it hard.

  “Dr. Whitley!” He commanded. “Let us in!”

  “Maybe he can’t, Billy.”

  We looked at each other, our eyes saying what our mouths didn’t.

  Billy stepped back preparing to body slam the door, but gave pause when the door opened.

  Dr. Whitley stepped in the doorway, pulled the door back inviting us in, and said, “I’m sorry. I had a problem I was trying to get under control.”

  Billy and I stepped into the room, and looked around.

  Teresa was sitting up on the gurney talking with her mother while one of Dr. Whitley’s aides held a glass of water for her. Maggie was seated in a wheelchair with an I.V. drip in the top part of her hand, the bag connected to a pole on the back of the chair. She did not look well.

  Confused, Billy said, “Everything seems in order. What kind of problem were you talking about? What could possibly be so bad that you’d lock the door?”

  Dr. Whitley didn’t say a word. Instead, he led the two of us to the gurney behind the curtain on the other side. There, we saw Peter Dawson lying on the gurney, pale, gaunt, and listless.

  “What’s the matter with him?” I asked, stunned by his appearance. “He looks like he’s going to die.”

  “He jumped up and started punching my people. I had to stop him. I locked the door while my people subdued him. I sedated him while he was being held down. I didn’t want anyone to walk in and see what we were doing. It wouldn’t look good. Everything’s under control now, but that’s not his problem.”

  “What is his problem?”

  “I’ve never seen anything like it,” the doctor said, visibly upset. “His wound is becoming infected at an alarming rate. Usually, it takes a day or two for something like this to develop, and that’s if you don’t get treatment. He’s been treated. We cleaned his wound, bandaged it, and then I gave him an antibiotic.”

  “I thought you didn’t have any drugs,” I said, smartly, not liking the contradictions I’d been hearing. “That’s what the captain said, and I thought you told me the same thing.”

  “I might have,” Dr. Whitley replied. “We don’t have general drugs per se, but we do have lifesaving drugs. Antibiotics are just one.”

  “And sedatives?”

  “Yes, those, too.”

  “I don’t want to know the rest.” I paused and then asked, “Who chooses the medicines you’re allowed to stock?”

  “I can stock anything we can afford, but we have to be careful about the drugs we administer. If a person has a bad reaction to a drug I’ve given, we could get sued, or worse, the person could die. We stock the basics we feel are necessary to save a patient’s life.”

  “Maybe he’s allergic to the penicillin you gave him.”

  “I don’t administer penicillin in most cases. I use a derivative.”

  “Oh… well then… what about the sedatives you’ve been giving him. Could that…”

  “None of that has anything to do with this infection.”

  Billy had stood by quietly, observing the scene. Finally, he spoke up. “I think what the doc is trying to say is that this man has an infection ravaging his body, but he doesn’t know why or where it came…” Billy’s words ceased as he looked across the room at Maggie. The doctor and I did the same. All eyes went straight to the raw place on her lip.

  I looked at the doctor and then back to Maggie. “You don’t think she passed something on to him, do you? Her lip looks pretty bad.” I looked at Billy and said, “I don’t remember it looking that bad even when she was digging the fork into it.”

  “I put a topical ointment on her lip. I need to have a closer look,” the doctor said. He walked over to her, bent down, and examined her lip.

  “What are you looking for, doc?” she asked him. She appeared dazed… rightfully so after what she had been through.

  “How does your lip feel, Mrs. Anderson?”

  “It hurts,” she said. “It hurts real bad. I wasn’t careful. I should’ve known better. I was sloppy. My lip itched, so I scratched it with the fork. I got that stuff on it. Then my head starting feeling funny, and before I knew what I was doing, I had gouged myself. It was hurting… and bleeding, doc. Then I saw him… that killer! I wanted to hurt him!”

  “I don’t understand,” I said, walking closer to her. “What are you talking about, Maggie?”

  “Don’t say a word, Mama,” Teresa said, demanding silence from her mother. She looked at us sternly and stated, “My mother has nothing further to say. Leave her alone. You will not question her without her lawyer present. I see where this is going.”

  “It’s okay, baby,” Maggie said, soothingly as she patted her daughter’s hand. “I fixed his wagon.”

  “What…” Dr. Whitley started to say.

  Maggie looked at the doctor and said, “My lip hurts so bad. I got some of that acid on it.”

  “What acid?” I asked, butting in.

  “Why, the acid I smeared on the fork, of course.”

  The doctor stood up and turned to look at us. The three of us suddenly became aware of the implications of Maggie Anderson’s declaration, and what the end result would be. Peter Dawson might die from his wound, and if so, Maggie Anderson might go to prison.

  Unless they found her to be insane…

  Chapter 16

  This news was a surprise to us all. The shocking revelation that Maggie Anderson had deliberately set out to kill Peter Dawson using some kind of acid on the tines of a fork was unbelievable. Even Teresa seemed surprised at her mother’s confession. Where did Maggie come up with that idea? And where did she get the acid? Most importantly, what kind of acid was it? Could Dr. Whitley save Peter Dawson even if he knew what he was dealing with? Or, were these the ravings of a mentally incompetent woman—a woman who had been drugged, tormented, and pushed over the edge by an unbalanced pickpocket, stalker, and potential killer? I considered Peter Dawson a potential killer. Even if he hadn’t killed anyone yet, there was no doubt in my mind that he would someday.

  “I think we’re at a point where we have to honor Teresa Anderson’s demands,” Billy said. He looked at all of us, one at a time, and then continued. “We don’t have the right to question anyone if they demand a lawyer. However…” Billy looked at Teresa and then back to Maggie. “I think I see where this is going, too, so I suggest we give McCoy a call. He’s one of the finest attorneys around, and probably the only one on board.”

  “Oh, there’re several on this cruise,” Dr. Whitley interjected.

  “Thank you for that information, doctor,” Billy said. “But under the circumstances, I’d feel better if Mrs. Anderson was represented by someone I know personally.” Billy looked at Maggie. “Is that all right with you?”

  Maggie didn’t say anything. She hung her head and started to moan. She was obviously not with it. Teresa, seeing her mother in such a state, looked over at Billy, and spoke for her. “Please call your friend, Mr. Blackhawk. I trust you. I know you’re looking after my mother’s best interest. For that, I thank you very much. A lesser man woul
d have browbeaten my mother to death.” She looked at Dr. Whitley and said, “After what you’ve seen and just heard, you must do what you have to do. Call the police or whatever, but give my mother her blood pressure medicine first. Please. Her face is flushed, and I’m concerned she might have a stroke or heart attack.”

  I pulled the bag of medication from my pocket and handed it to Billy.

  He, in turn, walked over to the counter with Dr. Whitley, slipped on latex gloves and then carefully handled the pill bottles. The contents of one of them were poured into an empty container, and the original bottle was placed back into the bag.

  “I will give this evidence to the captain,” Billy said. “He’s the one who should handle this matter. I’m an investigator, not a cop. And, I’ll give McCoy a call. May I use your phone, Dr. Whitley?”

  “Help yourself,” the doctor replied as he prepared to give Maggie her medication.

  Billy made his call.

  Five minutes later, McCoy Kelley walked through the Med Center door followed by the captain and a man who was introduced as U.S. Marshall Bob Wagner.

  “I hear we have someone in need of my services,” McCoy said as he looked around the room, checking everyone out. “Got some mighty sad looking faces in here. Let’s see if we can’t change that.” He looked at Dr. Whitley and said, “I need to speak with my client alone. Is there somewhere we can talk?”

  “Sure,” the doctor said. “You can use that room over there.” He pointed to a closed door. “It’s our storage room, but I think you’ll find it spacious enough to conduct your business. You’ll have a little privacy there.”

  While McCoy spoke with Maggie and Teresa in the storage room, the U.S. Marshall questioned the rest of us about what was going on, how much we knew to be fact, and our involvement in the case. He made notes on a small spiral pad, and then told us that our sworn statement might be required depending on blah… blah… blah. What he really meant was if Maggie Anderson was prosecuted, we’d have to tell what we know in court. I wasn’t looking forward to that.

  Billy handed over the bag of pills belonging to Maggie Anderson and said, “I guess you would be the one to get these.”

  Marshall Wagner took the bag and said, “I think we’re finished for now. Mr. and Mrs. Blackhawk you’re free to leave. I will handle it from here.”

  Billy offered our help before the two of us left the room. Once we got out into the hallway, I spat, “What a mean man.”

  “He was just doing his job, `ge ya.”

  “He didn’t have to be so cold about it.”

  “He probably has seen some pretty ugly stuff in his time. It hardens a person.”

  “You’re not hardened.”

  “Not yet.”

  We walked toward the elevator, but I stopped Billy just before we got on, and asked, “Are we going to Maggie’s room to search for that acid she was talking about?”

  “No, we’re not. Our job is done. As far as I’m concerned, this case is closed.”

  When we entered the elevator, Billy pressed the number for our deck.

  “We’re just going back to our room? Aren’t you curious to whether or not Maggie really does have some acid?”

  The elevator started moving.

  “I think she made the story up. She’s not right in the head. Remember, she was on medication that when mixed could be very dangerous. I’m sure they messed with her mind. When she regains her faculties, I’m sure she’ll recant everything she said.”

  “Ah… I get it! You think McCoy is going to get her out of this mess.”

  The elevator came to a halt, we stepped out, and it was at that precise moment that I realized the ship didn’t seem to sway as much as it had before. That was a relief. I didn’t like riding in that death box, but at least I didn’t have to hold on for dear life.

  “I know he will. They don’t have a case. The woman went nuts. Peter Dawson caused her to have a mental breakdown. He tampered with her medication, and when she went off, she went off on him.”

  “I bet that threw him for a loop.”

  “Oh, I doubt that. He probably was hoping she would attack him. It was part of the setup. He wanted to make it look as if she was the one harassing him. That way, if he defended himself, who would blame him?”

  “He’d still have to answer to the authorities as to why he was on the ship in the first place. He’s not supposed to be anywhere near Teresa.”

  “He could always say that he didn’t know they were on the cruise. He wouldn’t get into trouble for that. A judge would probably give him a slap on the wrist, and tell him not to do it again. You know how that goes.”

  “Yes, I do. It’s hard to protect oneself from a stalker. They have to be caught in the act, and by then it could be too late.”

  “Unfortunately, that’s the truth.”

  “I guess the fork attack caught him off-guard.” I joked. “I’m telling you, Billy, if you could’ve seen the look on his face when he pulled that fork out, it would’ve made you cringe. He looked like the devil.”

  “How do you know what the devil looks like?”

  “You know what I mean. He had the most sinister look in his eyes as if he was enjoying it.”

  “He might have enjoyed the situation, but I bet it really hurt.” Billy chuckled. “He might’ve gotten what he wanted, and more.”

  “He deserved to be hurt!”

  “I agree.”

  “Have you noticed that the ship isn’t rocking as bad?” I asked as we approached our room.

  Billy didn’t answer my question. He stopped walking, and had a faraway look on his face.

  I didn’t think anything of it and kept right on talking. “Can you imagine what it must’ve felt like? A fork plunged into your chest?” I looked back at Billy. “What’s the matter? Aren’t we going…”

  “Something just occurred to me.”

  “What?”

  “Where’s the fork?”

  “What does it matter?”

  “It matters a lot. What if there was no acid? I have serious doubts about that acid story. You can’t just carry around caustic material like it was a tube of lipstick. What if… the tip of the fork broke off, and is still lodged in his chest? Infection would set in rather quickly if the foreign object wasn’t removed.”

  “I’m sure the doctor took an x-ray. He has the capability.”

  “It might’ve been a small part. Maybe he missed it. Maybe he didn’t take an x-ray. Come on. Let’s go inside. I’m going to call him and ask him about it.”

  “You might just make him mad,” I said as I followed Billy inside. “Where did you come up with this idea?”

  “From one of those crime shows you’re always watching.”

  “Ah, ha! You were paying attention! See, you watch them, too.”

  “Only because I’m around you. If I had it my way, I’d never turn on the television.” He closed the door and went immediately to the ship phone.

  I took off my jacket, hung it in the closet, and then flopped down on the bed. I definitely wanted to hear Billy’s conversation with the good doctor. It didn’t take long for me to tell from the look on his face that the doctor probably wasn’t taking it well. Most likely, Dr. Whitley felt as if Billy was accusing him of not doing his job. That doesn’t go over big with anyone. But by the end of the phone call Billy had smoothed over any hurt feelings he might have caused.

  “You’re so slick!” I said. “Accuse the man, and then make him feel good about it. Wow! That takes finesse.”

  “He didn’t look at the x-ray. He got his assistant, Joy Lynn, to read it. She was looking for a broken or cracked rib. He was busy trying to administer aid to the man. He agreed that she could’ve missed it, especially if the object was very small. We’ll know for sure in a few minutes. He’s going to call me back.”

  “In the meantime, shall we pretend we’re on our honeymoon and make wild, passionate love?” I teased. “We could…”

  A knock at the door stopped m
e.

  “I guess we’re not going to have a minute to ourselves.”

  “I’m sorry, `ge ya,” Billy apologized. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise. Soon we’ll have our time together alone.”

  “I never expected our cruise to turn out like this,” I responded, getting up to answer the door. “But you don’t have to apologize. It’s kind of exciting. It’s like being at home, except that we get to dress up real nice, and dine out with famous people.” I opened the door to see Savannah standing there with a couple of books in her hand. “See. We have a famous author visiting us! Come on in, Savannah. Whatcha got there?”

  “I told you I brought a couple of my books for you, and here they are.” She handed the books to me. “I won’t bother you. I know you haven’t had much private time with your husband, so…”

  “Don’t be silly,” Billy said, encouraging her. “You’re not disturbing us. Come on in.”

  Savannah walked in, but stopped immediately when Billy said, “We’ll order some champagne.”

  She looked at Billy, and then back at me, and asked, “Is he kidding?”

  “Ignore him, Savannah. He’s a jokester. Don’t encourage him.” I laid the books on a table. “I can’t wait to read your books. Maybe later.”

  “I don’t mean to bother you, but when we left Bella’s, McCoy was summoned to the Med Center. I didn’t want to go to my room and be alone. There has been too much excitement on this ship for my liking.”

  “You know you’re welcomed to stay here until he’s finished,” I said. “I wouldn’t want to be alone either. I’m surprised you didn’t hang out at Bella’s.”

  “No offense, but I would have, except Loukas starting feeling sick. So, I figured I should leave with my husband. I didn’t know McCoy was going to get called away to do lawyer work. He told me to stay in our room until he got back, but…”

  Billy and I glanced at each other, the wheels in our brains turning as fast as a pinwheel in the wind.

  “Explain,” Billy demanded. “What kind of sick? Flu sick, or…”

  “No,” she answered. “He said he ate too much. He developed a stomach ache. Bella told him to go lie down while she summoned the doctor, but Loukas told her not to. He said he’d be all right.”