Deception On the Danube

by D'arcy Kavanagh

  After that task, Burke figured he should get back to the ship and see what Thierry Delisle needed him to do, if anything. He was still on the job even if all tour plans were on hold due to Bennett Blake’s death.

  Then he saw the tall, willowy figure of Felicity Blake running along a path through the park, her eyes focused straight ahead. Burke was surprised to see her. He’d expected she’d be spending her time in her ship cabin or talking to the police.

  She didn’t look like she was grieving so much anymore. But then again, Burke knew that some people took to exercise during times of stress or loss as a way to cope or to escape, if only for a short period.

  Maybe she was still planning to run that race in Vienna, Burke thought.

  Then, as if sensing his presence, Felicity Blake glanced at him. She slowed for a moment, nodded and then returned to her pace, disappearing around a corner within seconds.

  Burke started walking back toward the ship, his mind tossing over the crime scene by the castle ruins and Felicity Blake’s run the day after the brutal murder of her husband. Everywhere he seemed to look, something odd was happening. And there was no suggestion that normalcy was going to return anytime soon.

  When he arrived at the dock, there were two more police cars parked. A few dozen Sunna passengers strolled about the area, probably waiting to see what the police would do next. Few people were talking and Burke thought the whole scene was eerily quiet.

  Burke spotted Thierry Delisle, Carmen Moreau and Renata Hable talking to Sergeant Plaschke at the stern of the ship where passengers embarked and disembarked. The bulk of the conversation seemed to be between Delisle and the policeman. There was much nodding and even some smiling, at least on Delisle’s part, and Burke could see his boss was a different man from the jittery individual earlier in the day.

  Renata Hable spotted Burke on the dock and motioned for him to stay. Then she excused herself from the meeting with Plaschke and marched down the gangplank to where Burke stood.

  “What’s going on?” Burke asked.

  “We’re talking about what happens next. The police are saying it will be at least another day before the ship can move.”

  “Thierry seems calm, at least from where I’m standing.”

  Hable glanced over her shoulder at her boss. “Thierry was a bit of a mess before, but he’s got himself under control now. He’s not pushing the police, just trying to find out what’s going to happen over the next 24 or 36 hours so he can make sure all our clients are looked after. ”

  Burke was glad that Delisle had calmed down. His boss was a decent man, loyal to his superiors but also committed to ensuring the people on the tour got the best treatment possible. But it certainly wasn’t going to be easy, not with two deaths, one of them a brutal murder on board the cruise ship.

  “How are the passengers managing?” Burke said.

  Hable looked around, studying the passengers both on the dock and on the ship. “Remarkably well. We’ve had a couple of objections, but most people are going along with what they’re being asked to do. Everyone knows about Bennett Blake. If anything, they’ve been very calm, considering the terrible circumstances. I thought there’d be a rush to the nearest airport, but that hasn’t happened. Apparently only a handful of people have indicated they’re leaving when they get the chance.”

  “I wonder why so many are staying. I would have thought they’d be eager to get away from here as quickly as possible.”

  “That’s what I thought, but it seems most still see there’s value in continuing the trip. Or maybe they’ve got some excitement in their lives for the first time and want to stay around. Whatever the reason, it’s a little odd to me, too.”

  “Especially since Blake’s killer hasn’t been caught.”

  “Maybe they figure that with all these police around, it’s totally safe.”

  Burke nodded and asked what the police had been doing while he had been away from the Sunna.

  “They may be from a small community, but they seem to know their stuff, especially that Sergeant Plaschke and his boss, Inspector Martin. They’ve been interviewing almost everyone, including a few of the children. No one has really complained, though.”

  “What are the extra police doing? I noticed two new police vehicles parked here.”

  “More interviews, more examination of the crime scene.”

  Burke asked how Hable was managing although it seemed evident she was doing fine.

  “I’m focusing on helping Thierry in whatever way I can. It keeps me from thinking about what’s happened on the Sunna.”

  “Is head office considering cancelling the rest of the trip?”

  “Thierry tells me that won’t likely happen. There are too many contractual obligations. But if you ask me, Vienna is a long way from where we are right now. A lot of things can change, especially people’s attitudes.”

  Burke nodded. “What can I do to help?”

  “Nothing right now. We just have to wait.”

  Burke’s phone buzzed, telling him he had a text. He figured it was from François Lemaire, but he postponed reading it for a few moments. “Is Plaschke giving away any information about the investigation?”

  “He just asks questions and more questions. I don’t know what he and the other police are thinking right now or what they’re planning for us. They’re pretty secretive, but I guess that’s part of the job.”

  Burke asked if she had heard anything more about Wilson Talbot’s death.

  “Nothing new. The police don’t even mention it. It’s just a tragic accident that’s been put aside because of Mr. Blake’s horrible death.”

  Burke wasn’t surprised. Blake’s murder had caught everyone’s attention while most, if not all, people – including maybe even the police – were accepting Talbot’s death as bad luck.

  Hable nodded to a vehicle pulling up behind Burke. “Now the world is going to know what’s been happening,” she said.

  It belonged to a TV station based out of Vienna. The big city had discovered a small-town murder.

  The death of Bennett Blake was about to become news.

  Chapter 28

  Burke watched as two people popped out of the van – a husky man in his 20s holding a shoulder camera and some sound gear, and a lanky, 30-ish woman with flowing black hair and a snappy navy-blue suit. Burke thought she had to be the on-camera reporter.

  And he was right as she headed straight toward the two police officers at the end of the gangplank. Her cameraman/sound person followed at her heels.

  Several bystanders edged closer so they could hear the upcoming exchange.

  Burke expected the best the TV crew would get was a no-comment from the ranking flic on board the ship. It would probably be one of the detectives, but Burke thought Plaschke was senior enough that he could be assigned the task.

  The reporter made her pitch and one of the officers turned and went up the gangplank and onto the ship, leaving his colleague to ensure the TV people didn’t go where they shouldn’t.

  As he waited, Burke heard motorboat engines. Not small engines but the muscular ones that kick out significant speed. Seconds later, he saw four large motorboats appear, each one featuring a blue-and-white design pattern and the word Polizei emblazoned both on the side of the hull and the front of the cabin. Two of the boats split off, slowing up. The other two went to the far side of the cruise ship, out of sight for Burke and most people.

  Burke saw everyone was watching the boats, including the TV crew which had abandoned their gangplank plan for a closer look at what was happening on the Danube.

  Burke watched as the two boats that had pulled off started to drop orange buoys that were chained together. The crew on board the police vessels extended the line of buoys to about two-thirds of the way across the river. Then they turned 90 degrees west and put out another line. After 200 metres, they turned back toward the Krems shoreline, dropping a third line and effectively sh
utting off the Sunna in an area about the size of two soccer fields. The two police boats then went to the corners and stayed there.

  The crime scene was being extended to include the Danube.

  And although Burke couldn’t see what the two boats on the far side of the ship were doing, he figured he could safely wager 100 euros that police divers were about to hit the water in search of a potentially discarded weapon that had been tossed from the ship into the river.

  Burke wondered how deep the Danube was at that point. He recalled someone saying it went to just eight or nine metres at its deepest, wherever that was. That seemed shallow to him, especially with the barges and cruise ships using it. But then Burke knew little about such matters. Maybe the river was indeed that shallow – or even shallower where they were.

  The TV people must have seen what was happening on the other side of the ship because Burke watched them quickly start to film. The reporter stayed off-camera. Then they moved a few metres and the reporter went before the camera, talking into her mic.

  Burke glanced back at the ship.

  Sergeant Plaschke was talking to a cop at the end of the gangplank. Moments later, Inspector Christian Martin joined the gathering.

  However, most people weren’t watching them.

  They were watching what was happening on the river.

  Chapter 29

  Burke decided he had nothing to lose so he approached the police. Plaschke saw him first and grimaced at Burke’s presence.

  Burke smiled inwardly at Plaschke’s reaction. He knew he had that effect on some people, especially police. “So, you’re still searching for the knife,” he said to the sergeant, hoping he didn’t sound smug.

  “Herr Burke, as I told you before, we’re busy with our investigation which means you should leave us to do our work.”

  “Why are you so sure it’s a knife?” Martin said, ignoring Plaschke’s command.

  “It sure looked like Blake had been stabbed.”

  “You’ve seen such wounds before?”

  “No, but they didn’t look like they could have been made by anything else but a knife.”

  “It must be comforting to be so sure of yourself, Herr Burke.”

  Burke didn’t mind the remark. A year or two before, he would have been insulted but he had grown out of such reactions. He considered Martin’s comment. Maybe it was criticism. But, then again, maybe Martin inadvertently or on purpose was suggesting something else about the weapon used to murder Bennett Blake. But what?

  They were interrupted by a ship’s horn coming from the east. It sounded three times.

  Burke saw a long barge approaching. It had to be carrying a substantial load because it was low in the water, almost dangerously so.

  One of the police boats shot out toward the vessel which was starting to slow. Burke expected there was probably plenty of chatter over the radio with the police explaining what was happening.

  The barge slowed. But it wasn’t easy.

  Burke looked in the other direction, wondering if another boat was coming. If a good-sized ship showed up right then, it might be interesting.

  But nothing was approaching from the west.

  Burke watched as one police boat guided the barge slowly past the cordoned-off area by the cruise ship and then resumed its position. He expected there were other police boats up river offering directions to oncoming vessels.

  Burke’s phone buzzed, indicating he had a text.

  He ignored it and turned back to Inspector Martin. “So, Inspector, was it a knife or not? As it turns out, I’m going to blog about what’s happened here.”

  “To your French newspaper chain?”

  Burke was surprised the detective knew that information. “My editor has heard about what’s happened here and wants to run something. After all, one of his staffers is on board the ship and the tour is being run by a company out of Nice which is close to home.”

  “We’ll release information when it’s appropriate and we’ll do so at a news conference.”

  “Is there one scheduled?”

  Martin checked his watched. “Three this afternoon.” Then the inspector told Burke to leave them to their conversation.

  Burke nodded and walked toward where the TV crew was now the centre of attention for dozens of curious bystanders. He heard the TV reporter saying to the camera that the police were conducting an underwater search, possibly for a weapon. She looked extremely serious and sounded as if something incredibly mysterious was happening just a few metres away. Hardly shocking news, especially for those in the immediate area, but it would play well for an outside audience.

  Burke glanced back at the police and saw Plaschke and Martin walking slowly toward one of the police vehicles.

  Once more, Burke reviewed his brief conversation with Martin. Bennett Blake had been stabbed to death. No doubt about that. But the more he thought about the flic’s comments, the more he thought the weapon used by the killer wasn’t a standard-issue knife.

  So what kind of weapon was it?

  Chapter 30

  The text wasn’t from François Lemaire as Burke had expected.

  It was from Hélène who announced she was coming to be with him, in either Vienna or on route to the Austrian capital.

  “I have Michelle and Marc looking after the café,” she wrote. “So, no worries there. I think it’s wise for me to be with you. And to keep Uncle Claude out of trouble. I’ll send you my travel information. No arguments.”

  Burke knew from her tone that he wouldn’t be able to dissuade her. He also knew he wanted her there with him, whatever was happening.

  He texted back: “No arguments. You win. I love you.”

  A moment later, he got a reply: “Good. And I love you, too.”

  Burke didn’t know where or when they’d get together, but they’d work out something for where she’d stay. He also knew that Claude would be tickled to hear his beloved niece was on the way.

  He was wrong.

  “You’ve got to tell her to forget about coming, Paul,” said Claude after Burke broke the news aboard the ship a few minutes later. “It’s not safe. We’ve had one murder and maybe even two. If she joins us, she could be putting herself in danger.”

  Burke was surprised at Claude’s reaction. He didn’t think that either he or Claude were in any peril, certainly not with so many police around. Then he reconsidered; Claude loved his niece like a daughter and often worried about her even though Hélène was smart, intuitive and brave.

  “I understand, but I don’t think there’s any chance she’ll change her mind,” Burke said.

  “Give me your phone,” said Claude, holding out his hand.

  Burke gave his friend his phone and watched as Claude found the message and then typed in a response.

  Seconds after he sent it, there was a response.

  “You’re right, Paul, there’s no way she’s not coming,” he said, handing Burke back the phone. He sighed theatrically. “She’s going to be the death of me, that girl.”

  “Don’t worry about her, Claude, she knows how to handle herself. Besides, we’ll be here to ensure she’s fine.”

  Claude snorted. “And who’s going to look after us?”

  “No one wants to harm us, Claude. We haven’t done anything to anyone.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  For the first time, Burke wasn’t so confident about the answer.

  Chapter 31

  Back in the dining room with Claude at his side, Burke looked out a window – it was far too large to be called a porthole – and saw another TV van and a Volkswagen Beetle advertising a radio station pull into the parking lot.

  The first TV crew were no longer the only media around.

  “And so it begins,” Claude said, nodding at the new arrivals.

  Burke’s phone told him he had a new text. This time, it was François Lemaire. The message was direct: Burke was to prov
ide updates every three hours plus one written blog and one video blog each day. If he could tie the information to the tour operator, that would be good – a local angle for the newspaper chain.

  “You’re going to be busy, I see,” Claude said, having read the text over Burke’s shoulder.

  Burke smiled at his friend. “François hates violence, but the occasional murder does wonders for his spirits.”

  “Let’s go to the starboard side of the ship and see what we can spot. Maybe you’ll see something that’ll make Lemaire a happy man.”

  Burke punched his friend in the arm. “Starboard side of the ship? Three days ago, you were talking about the right side and the left side.”

  “The longer this trip goes, the more I’m learning. By the time we sail into Vienna, I might be ready to become a ship’s captain.”

  They went onto the outside deck and worked their way to the starboard side, but it wasn’t easy because at least 50 passengers were taking the prime spaces by the railing. They looked out and saw two police officers on each boat monitoring the divers while talking on phones.

  Farther away, the other two police boats were marshalling a cruise ship by the watery crime scene; Burke could see dozens of passengers on the distant ship studying what was happening. He looked to the east and saw a barge slowing for its turn. To the west were two large motorboats with several persons checking out the activity while they waited to be cleared to go. Burke shook his head. A traffic jam on the Danube.

  He returned his attention to the river below and, after a couple of minutes, saw a diver wearing a black wetsuit pop up from the brownish water. The diver looked at the nearest flic and shook his head. They talked for a few moments, but they were too far away for Burke or anyone else to hear. Then the diver dropped back under the surface of the Danube.

  Around him, Burke heard plenty of speculation from passengers wondering what the police divers were looking for. The consensus was either a knife or a gun with a silencer. A couple ventured it could be a tool like a screwdriver. A few people wondered if there was a weapon traditionally used by the Roma for killing someone. Claude nudged Burke after that comment, his eyebrows raised to see if Burke knew something about the Roma being involved. Burke shrugged. He doubted the Roma were connected to Bennett’s death, but then there had been that strange knife discussion he’d had with Inspector Martin at the foot of the gangplank.