Deception On the Danube

by D'arcy Kavanagh

  The taxi driver nodded and drove off.

  Burke looked at the dock. The previous crowd of onlookers had diminished to a dozen or so people wandering about. No one paid him any attention.

  The media seemed to have disappeared.

  The only police vehicles left were a car and a van.

  Burke walked to the edge of the dock to see how the police boats were doing. They were gone. And the buoys were, too. River traffic seemed back to normal.

  Burke wondered what had happened during his absence.

  Chapter 35

  Burke went into the dining room – it seemed to be the best place for locating people these days – and saw Claude lingering at the entrance to the kitchen. He walked over to his friend, noticing how some passengers studied him.

  “There you are,” Claude said. “Where have you been? You missed all the action.”

  “What action?”

  “It looks like the police divers found something, but no one on board seems to know what it was. Whatever it was, it wasn’t very big.”

  “Could it have been a knife?”

  “A knife, a gun, something small. So, where did you go?”

  Burke told him.

  “Do you believe what you heard, Paul?”

  “I don’t think either the Roma or the refugees had anything to do with the murders of Talbot and Bennett despite what some people on board are suggesting.”

  “But what about the police?”

  “It seems they’re not really considering the Roma or the refugees as legitimate suspects. Now I have a question for you, Claude. When the divers came up with that unknown item, did they hang around longer or did they leave shortly after?”

  “From what I was told, they came up with the item, chatted for a minute or two and then left.” Claude paused, considering what he’d just said. “That suggests they were looking for something specific, doesn’t it?”

  “And something unique, so when they found it, they figured there was no chance of finding a second one and they left.”

  “Well, once the divers left, the party ended. The TV people got their video and chatted to that detective Plaschke and then they buggered off. The other media did, too.”

  Burke expected reports were already online. He knew he should be sending Lemaire something. At that exact moment, his phone buzzed, signifying a text. He looked and saw it was from his editor.

  “I’m seeing online reports but I’ve got nothing from you,” Lemaire said. “Give me something NOW.”

  Burke excused himself, went to the closest vacant table and fired back a response to his boss, saying the police had found something in the Danube. He added that the flics weren’t really considering the Roma and refugees as suspects despite some media reports, an observation he hoped would satisfy Lemaire’s desire for something different.

  “Acceptable. Now get back to work,” Lemaire replied.

  Burke checked his watch. He had a half hour before the news conference began at the Krems police station.

  He wondered if he’d hear anything new.

  Chapter 36

  He didn’t.

  The police spokesperson, a willowy blonde in her late 20s who was extremely telegenic, told the gathering of at least 20 media that the police were still pursuing their investigation into Bennett Blake’s death.

  When asked by a reporter about what the divers had discovered, she said the item was being closely examined. She wouldn’t disclose if it was a knife or a breadbox.

  Nothing new.

  The reporters weren’t pleased by the lack of information and kept firing questions at her. She handled most of the queries by saying the police were considering a number of lines of investigation.

  Burke spotted Christian Martin and Karl Plaschke off to the side watching the news conference. He eased his way through the media gathering toward them. And as he did so, he felt a remarkable sense of déjà vu. He had seen police studying news conferences dealing with murders connected to the vintage bicycle races and, before that, with deaths connected to the Tour de France. And once more he wondered what the flics thought they were gaining by being there. It had to be something more than just listening to what was being asked.

  Martin and Plaschke stared at him, not volunteering anything.

  “The knife that was found isn’t any regular knife, is it?” Burke said.

  Neither officer said a word.

  “I know it’s not a screwdriver or anything like that.”

  “Once again, it seems you’re sure about your theories, Herr Burke,” Martin said.

  “I saw the wounds. The gashes in Bennett Blake’s stomach and chest were made with something much wider than a standard screw driver or even a knife.”

  Neither flic said anything.

  “Your divers were looking for a specific type of weapon that isn’t often seen or used. They found it, too. And as soon as they had it, they left. If your pathologist had said the weapon used to kill Bennett Blake had been a generic knife, your divers would still be back at the Sunna, sorting through all the junk on the river bottom to make sure there were no other knives down there.”

  “You’re missing the news conference, Herr Burke,” Plaschke said, nodding to the police spokesperson.

  Without another word, the two officers turned and left.

  Burke returned to the news conference, but it ended shortly without any new information. The journalists were unhappy with what they’d been given and Burke expected they’d be prowling around for more details.

  A half hour later, he was back in the Sunna’s dining room.

  It was quiet with just a handful of people sitting at tables and drinking coffee which was a little unusual given it was late afternoon. But then again, maybe people needed the caffeine boost to keep going. Burke wondered if more people were in the ship’s small lounge bar, nursing a stronger beverage, but it proved equally peaceful.

  He went back into the dining room and spotted Claude going to an otherwise vacant table with a coffee in his hand. He went over to his friend and sat down, relating what the police spokesperson had told the media at the news conference.

  “So, nothing new from the police,” Claude said.

  Burke recounted his brief conversation with Martin and Plaschke.

  “That sounds like they have some ideas, Paul, but don’t want anyone to know what they are, at least at this point,” Claude said. “So, tell me, what kind of knife do you think was used to kill Bennett Blake?”

  “I’ve been giving that some thought. There are a lot of strange knives out there, but I think they were looking for something truly different – like a dagger.”

  “A dagger?”

  “That’s my guess. It leaves a different entry wound than a knife. Unlike a knife, a dagger is double-sided, symmetrical and both sides always go to a point. It also has a hilt. In fact, some of the hilts on a dagger can be half the length of the actual dagger blade.”

  “How do you know all that?”

  “My friend Madame Google. I had a few minutes and I was curious about something, so I did a little check on my smartphone about different types of knives. As it turned out, I came across a lot of interesting information about daggers. Madame Google is always very helpful.”

  “OK, so you’re suggesting that if a dagger was used, any decent pathologist is going to see the difference in the entry wounds.”

  “That’s what I think.”

  “And since there probably aren’t many daggers floating around on the bottom of the Danube, when the police divers found one, they could be fairly confident they had the murder weapon – if we’re correct in our assumptions.”

  Burke nodded. His friend had caught on quickly to his theory.

  They sat in silence for a couple of minutes, each lost to his thoughts.

  “You know, I’ve been watching our passengers closely today although it’s quiet right now,” Claude finally said. “Nearly
all of them seem tired and a lot of them look worried. That’s natural, of course, because there might be a murderer in their midst – our midst. But I get the feeling that some people aren’t authentic. They’re putting on a show, trying to look sad or anxious. But then, when they think no one is watching, they revert back to their usual ways. At lunch, for example, I made a point of watching for a few minutes and saw several of our people were attacking their food with gusto. And they were equally enthusiastic about their wine, too.”

  “Maybe they were just hungry, Claude.”

  “Maybe, but I’d say they seemed relieved.”

  “About what?”

  “That the police aren’t asking them more questions.”

  “Who are you talking about?”

  “About a half dozen of our team-building people.”

  “Which ones?”

  “I don’t recall all their names, but there’s the American, Kendall Young, David Fraser from England, our German, Herr Beck, and that Aussie …”

  “Roger Langford?”

  “I think that’s his name,” Claude said, describing him.

  “That’s Langford.”

  “And there’s that tall Dutch guy … .”

  “Gert Vanderkamp.”

  Claude nodded. “He seems fairly relaxed if you ask me, like he doesn’t have a care in the world.”

  “What about our Frenchman, Monsieur Poirier?”

  “He seems genuinely upset. He’s definitely not showing much life when I’m watching. And I’ve noticed he barely touches his food.”

  “What about the others, the non-team-building people?”

  “Some aren’t showing much at all, probably because they didn’t really know either Talbot or Blake. But there are others who seem upset one moment when they’re in a group, calm when they’re alone or with a friend or family member. It’s like they’re putting on a show to indicate how affected they’ve been by the two deaths.”

  “So, they’re trying to look sympathetic in public?”

  “Exactly and I hope you don’t think I’m imagining things, Paul. When you’re in prison, you quickly learn to get a real sense of those around you. You learn to read their true intentions. If you don’t, you can soon find yourself in a bad situation.”

  “I believe you, Claude. And I appreciate your opinions. I always have.”

  Claude nodded and it was then that Burke realized that his friend wasn’t the same confident individual he had been before his stint in prison. Spending time behind bars hadn’t changed him fundamentally, but it had altered some parts of him. Burke also realized that while Claude was lacking some of his pre-prison confidence that sometimes tumbled into arrogance, he had developed new powers of observation, thanks to having to find ways to survive in a potentially dangerous environment.

  “So we have ourselves some deception on the Danube,” Burke said.

  “That’s what we have,” Claude added.

  Chapter 37

  Still sitting in the dining room, Burke read the text from Hélène saying she’d be catching an early morning flight to Vienna from Nice. From there, she planned to take the 75-kilometre train ride to Krems unless Burke’s group moved.

  Burke replied he’d be in Krems and said he doubted she’d be permitted to stay on the Sunna. Hélène texted back that she’d find a hotel close to where the ship was docked. “I love you,” she concluded.

  Whatever tricky situation he found himself in, Burke found solace whenever he thought about his partner. He knew people said the initial passion of love usually wore off in a few months or maybe in a year, but he felt stronger about Hélène with each passing day. He hoped that would never change.

  “Paul, I have something for you to do tomorrow,” came the familiar voice of Thierry Delisle.

  As usual, Carmen Moreau was at his side, tablet in hand.

  Burke noticed his boss seemed more relaxed. “What do you want me to do?”

  “The police have told us we’ll be here in Krems again tomorrow,” Delisle said, sitting down. Moreau took the chair beside him. “The day after that, we can continue our tour although we’ll definitely have to make some adjustments, given the delays. I’m working on those changes with Renata and head office.”

  “What do you need from me?”

  “I want you and Renata to take our people to visit a Benedictine monastery about 15 kilometres away on the south side of the Danube.”

  “Have the police said we can do that?”

  “They have. They told me and Captain Keller that they’ve finished examining the bike storage compartment and the bikes for any further evidence. They just don’t want us to sail away yet because they’ve got a few matters to clear up. Whatever those matters are, I haven’t any idea but they want us to stay around a little longer.”

  Burke wondered if “a few matters” meant the police were planning more interviews with passengers. Or maybe the flics wanted to check individual cabins for possible clues. It didn’t matter in the end. The Sunna wasn’t going anyplace soon.

  “OK, so, I better get busy making some arrangements,” Burke said.

  “There’s no need. Renata is handling everything. She’s finalizing a couple of details and will get the information to you shortly.”

  Burke figured a ride to a monastery wouldn’t hurt. The team-building participants probably needed something to distract them. As for the rest of the passengers, Burke thought another day visiting Krems wouldn’t be a total loss. The community was an attractive one with lots of shopping and cafés.

  “We’ll have some activities for the others during the day, but I expect most of them will be content with just wandering around town,” Delisle said.

  Burke asked how the Sunna’s owners were dealing with the change of schedule and the police presence.

  “They say they’re ready to co-operate with whatever the police recommend. But this is costing us a significant amount. The Sunna was supposed to be used for a trip from Vienna back to Passau, but that was on the old schedule. With the delay caused by the police investigation into Bennett Blake’s death, the cruise line needs to find another ship to use for that journey.”

  “How’s Captain Keller handling the pressure?”

  “He’s been very calm and understanding. And he’s offered to help us in whatever way he can. We’re lucky. Another captain, or crew, might not be so co-operative.”

  Burke wasn’t surprised to hear about the attitude of the Sunna’s captain. He had talked with Oliver Keller at the start of the trip and had found him to be a pleasant, capable individual. It didn’t hurt that Keller also was an enthusiastic cyclist; at least twice, Burke had seen the captain out for a late-afternoon ride while his ship was docked.

  “You have everything under control,” Burke told Delisle.

  “I hope so. We’re definitely facing some challenges, but Renata has been superb and so has Carmen,” said Delisle, smiling at his assistant. Moreau looked up from her tablet and seemed to blush. She thanked her boss for the compliment.

  “When will we tell the passengers about what we’ll be doing tomorrow?” Burke said.

  “We’ll do it this evening when everyone’s together for dinner. Hopefully, they’ll like what they hear. I think that’s about it. Anything to add, Carmen?”

  Moreau checked something on her tablet for a moment and then looked at Burke. “The police say you can get into the bike storage compartment within the next hour. They didn’t think there was any damage to the machines, but they couldn’t be sure. So, you’ll need to check them again which I expect you were planning to do anyway.”

  “I was going to as soon as I had permission.”

  “There are also some journalists wandering around looking for a story and they might approach you since word has spread that you’re the one who discovered Monsieur Blake’s body.”

  “Thank you, Carmen, I forgot about that,” Delisle said. He turned to Burke. “I’ll be
handling all contact with the media. I know you do blogs for your Côte d’Azur newspapers and have contacts within the media, but I don’t want you talking to any reporters around here, is that clear?”

  Burke agreed. It wasn’t a difficult request since Burke had enough tasks to keep him busy. As for his “contacts” within the media, Burke knew Delisle was overestimating him.

  Just as they were about to go in separate directions, Burke had a thought. “Will we have any police along for our ride tomorrow?”

  “The police made it clear there’d be two officers joining us just as there’s been every day,” Delisle said.

  Burke wondered if all of the team-building participants would show up for the following day’s ride.

  Chapter 38

  After his meeting with Delisle and Moreau, Burke went to his cabin and wrote a blog on his laptop computer about the latest developments, leaving out his speculation about the dagger. As soon as he sent it off to François Lemaire, he began considering what he should write next – and what he could do for a video blog.

  Then his thoughts drifted to Hélène. They often did, whether she was around him or far away. He could see her smile, hear her laugh and feel her touch.

  Then Burke’s mind did a quick turn.

  Something about the divers finding the weapon used to kill Bennett Blake had been bothering him and now he knew what it was. He returned to the dining area which was slowly starting to attract more people and went straight to the kitchen. He caught Claude’s attention.

  “I know that look on your face, Paul,” Claude said, a long cutting knife in his hand. “You’re on the trail of something, right?”

  “Do you know how close the police divers were to our ship when they found the weapon?”

  Claude frowned. “That’s it? That’s what you want to know? You know I’m in the middle of getting dinner ready for the guests, right?”

  “Yes, I do and I’m sorry to bother you, Claude, but do you know the answer? I think it could be important.”

  Claude stared at Burke for a moment and then shrugged. “Well, the fact is I don’t know for sure but from what I’ve heard, they were close to the ship, not more than five metres away.”