A Christmas Cruise Murder

by Dawn Brookes

  A Christmas

  Cruise

  Murder

  A Rachel Prince Mystery

  Dawn Brookes

  Oakwood Publishing

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed are the work of the author’s imagination except for those in the public domain. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Although real-life places are depicted in settings, all situations and people related to those places are fictional.

  DAWN BROOKES asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this Work. All rights reserved in all media. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author and/or publisher.

  Paperback Edition 2019

  Kindle Edition 2019

  Paperback ISBN: 9781913065041

  Copyright © DAWN BROOKES 2019

  Cover Design: Janet Dado

  Dedicated to Sophie

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Author’s Note

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Other Books by Dawn Brookes

  Chapter 1

  The Coral Queen London tour bus was parked outside the Natural History Museum, the last stop before returning to the ship. Rachel showed her ticket to the driver, who loaded her suitcases into the luggage hold. Delighted she was to be taken directly to the cruise liner, Rachel found the one remaining seat next to an older man who reluctantly removed a bag to allow her just enough room to sit.

  “Thank you.” Her smile was met with a hard stare followed by a brusque reply.

  “You’re welcome,” he answered in a thick Spanish accent while sniffing through overly wide nostrils that reminded her of those belonging to a friend’s bulldog. The man turned away from her. There was welcome in neither his voice nor his actions.

  The bus set off, slowly at first due to London traffic, but it picked up pace as it got further away from the centre. It was carrying a mixture of passengers and crew, taking back-to-back passengers and off-duty crew members on a tour of London before picking up additional passengers and heading straight to the port in Southampton.

  Rachel could see the rain had become heavier than it had been when she’d stood waiting for the arrival of the bus, a typical English winter’s day with temperatures hovering at around five degrees centigrade outside. There was a palpable buzz in the air and she could hear the two people occupying the seats in front of her discussing their Harrods purchases. Rachel sat back and relaxed. Her night-duty shift had only finished at seven o’clock this morning. Since then, she had raced home, grabbed a few hours’ sleep and telephoned her fiancé, Carlos, who had gone to Italy to work on a last-minute case over Christmas.

  As a private detective, Carlos took the work when it was available, but he wouldn’t have taken a case over Christmas if he had not been cajoled by his cousin to do some undercover work for her. She’d explained that items were being stolen with increasing frequency from her hotel and she suspected there was an insider feeding information to the thief or thieves. Her main concern was that the hotel would lose its good reputation and be tarnished by the robberies.

  Rachel had been bitterly disappointed, but had hidden it well when Carlos told her he wanted to go. They had both been looking forward to spending Christmas together, as Rachel, being in the police force, worked most Christmases.

  “Why don’t you use your compensation money and join Sarah on a cruise?” Carlos had suggested.

  Rachel’s best friend Sarah worked as a nurse on board the cruise ship Rachel was now heading towards, on which she had become embroiled in a number of murder investigations on previous sailings. Some of them had resulted in generous compensation from the cruise line.

  “But her parents are joining her this Christmas; I’d feel like I was intruding.”

  “I’m sure they would be happy to see you, and Sarah would definitely be pleased.”

  “I suppose it beats Christmas at the vicarage. Dad is always so busy during the holiday season and Mum ends up feeding the waifs and strays with nowhere to go. I don’t mind that usually, but I really wanted a rest. I’ve been working flat out since I became a DC.”

  “Not to mention your sergeant’s exams.”

  Rachel had been thrilled to pass first time and was applying for DS jobs, so it wouldn’t be long before work became even busier.

  “You’re right, a cruise would be nice and the Christmas one is only for twelve days. I spoke to Sarah about it the other day; she was excited, but nervous about her parents taking a winter cruise.”

  Carlos had looked relieved when she’d capitulated. She knew he felt guilty for leaving her and ruining their holiday plans. The sparkle in his eyes as he grinned triumphantly had brought the familiar butterflies to her stomach.

  Rachel had made a last-minute booking just a few days ago. She’d dropped Carlos off at Heathrow before going on nightshift the previous evening. Now she texted him to let him know she was on the coach, then texted her parents. Afterwards, she looked across the man next to her to glance out of the window and couldn’t help noticing him scowling and muttering to himself.

  “Are you alright?”

  “Yes, why shouldn’t I be?” His tone was no friendlier than earlier.

  “No reason, sorry. It’s none of my business. My name’s Rachel, by the way. Are you on holiday or working?”

  “Working,” he answered glumly. “I am maître d in restaurant on board ship.”

  Rachel knew Colin Bell, the maître d from the main restaurant, but hadn’t met this man before, so she wondered if he was new.

  “How exciting, that’s a responsible job, isn’t it? Making sure food is delivered on time and diners are happy.”

  He turned and looked at her for the first time. A short man with jet black hair and nostrils that were still flaring, he appeared to be in his late fifties with a deeply lined face and marked frown lines indicating he was probably not the happiest man in the world. His eyes were too small for his face and almost got lost in his large head.

  Through tight lips, he answered, “It is responsible job, I have to keep difficult waiters in order.”

  “I see,” she replied, not quite sure how to continue with this conversation, whether to bother or where it was going. It seemed the man was now on a roll, so she didn’t need to ponder for long.

  “They hate me, but I don’t care about them.” He huffed as he blew out the final part of the sentence.

  “Hate is a strong word, I’m sure they understand you are just doing your job if you have to be firm at times.” Rachel thought he probably ruled with a rod of iron judging by his general demeanour, but then she knew nothing of managing waiters from all over the world so reminded herself not to judge.

  “Strong word it may be, but they do hate me. Anyway, they have to lump it, as you British say
. I’m not going anywhere – they will have to take me off in a box.” His voice rose as he spat out the last words and laughed insincerely.

  Rachel chuckled politely. “I’m sure they wouldn’t want you to leave. I expect you’re very good at what you do. Which restaurant do you oversee?”

  “Are you familiar with Coral Queen?” he asked.

  “Yes, I’ve cruised a few times before.”

  “I used to be in specialty dining, now in Club Restaurant.”

  “I haven’t heard of that one.”

  “That’s because it is new addition – a meeting room has been converted to make room for restaurant. The cruise line wanted to offer somewhere different for higher paying passengers, but for this cruise it is being used for anyone who wishes to book.” He again spat the last part of the sentence out.

  Rachel raised an eyebrow but resisted rolling her eyes. The man next to her was clearly proud of his position in the new restaurant, but didn’t approve of its use for this sailing. At least she had managed to distract him from frowning momentarily.

  “I am Stefan Sosa. Perhaps you will be dining in my restaurant, Miss?”

  Rachel hoped not. “Perhaps.”

  “That’s if the waiters don’t kill me first.” He attempted a laugh that came out as more of a groan and caused him to go into a coughing fit. Once he had recovered himself, he turned away again and looked out of his window. “Rain, always raining in England. No wonder you British are so unhappy.”

  As opposed to your ecstasy, she thought, but said, “We’re used to it.”

  “Being unhappy?”

  Rachel laughed. “The weather.”

  She was saved from any further conversation as they entered the outskirts of Southampton and the passenger across the aisle asked her the time. Rachel happily engaged in conversation with her and her husband for the remaining fifteen minutes before they pulled up beside the enormous cruise ship that always took her breath away.

  Stefan pushed in front of her while she helped an elderly woman on with her coat. Rachel sighed and hoped that would be her last encounter with maître d Stefan Sosa.

  As she reached back to collect her bag, she noticed a small brown wallet sticking out from the back of the seat where Sosa had been sitting. She picked it up and looked around to see if she could chase after him. There was no way – the aisle was now filled with passengers keen to alight from the coach. Looking through the window, she saw him gesticulating and shouting at an older passenger on the portside before he stormed off towards the crew-only entrance. She sighed and stuffed the wallet into her handbag.

  I’ll hand it in on the way in.

  Stefan made his way to his room and ordered room service, despite knowing that he shouldn’t do so as embarkation day was the busiest day for catering staff and waiters.

  “I don’t care how busy you are, I need food now. I wasn’t going to pay London prices and I’ve not eaten all day. Get on with it – that’s what you’re paid for.”

  He slammed the phone down and grinned at the idea of creating extra work for the lazy kitchen staff.

  Shortly after his food arrived, Stefan sat down and poured himself a glass of whisky, even though he would be working soon. This was something he always did; rules were not for him.

  “What do I care?” he muttered out loud. “I’m the boss.”

  He thought of how different things had been since he had suffered a minor stroke sixteen months ago when on leave after a row with his family. He hadn’t declared the stroke on his return to ship and the crew doctor – Romano or whatever his name was – hadn’t picked up on it. However, it had left him with a permanent limp. No-one had asked him where the limp had come from and he had become more and more bitter with each passing day; nobody cared about him and he certainly didn’t care about them.

  He hated working in ‘service’; he should have been a senior manager by now, but had been passed over again and again for younger men, and recently by a stupid woman. That rankled more than anything. In Cuba, women did as they were told, but not here. Here they got senior jobs and told him what to do.

  Stefan Sosa will never take orders from women; they have to be kept in their place.

  It had been a frustrating day, but he had got his point across to that ex-wife of his. No-one could hide from him forever; he would make them all pay. Stefan glared at the dinner in front of him, thrown together and presented poorly. He would make the staff suffer for this later, too.

  “At least the bread looks fresh,” he muttered. He added more whisky to the glass and lifted it into the air, waving it around in a salute. “To hell with the world,” he shouted as he downed the contents and bit into the bread.

  As soon as he swallowed the first bite, he felt pain in his stomach and tightening in his throat as the swelling in his airways appeared from nowhere. His gut burned and he slammed the bread and his glass down on the table. Panicking, he reached inside his pocket for his epi-pen.

  It wasn’t there.

  He stumbled to the dressing table and opened the drawer. The pens were not there. Clutching his throat as the wheezing became louder, he tried to suck in air, scowling as he fell to the floor. One of them had finally made good on their threats.

  Stefan fought to take one last breath, but it never came.

  Chapter 2

  Sarah Bradshaw was filled with excitement this morning, knowing her parents would be joining the Coral Queen for the first time. Not only that, but her best friend Rachel had booked the same cruise at the last minute after discovering her fiancé would be working while Rachel herself had been given the Christmas season off. It was the first time her friend had had time off over the festive season since she’d joined the police force; Sarah was sorry Carlos wasn’t coming too, but other than that she couldn’t be happier.

  The ship had just returned from a three-week cruise taking in the Adriatic Sea, Greece and parts of the Mediterranean. Crew had been exceptionally busy with a fully booked voyage and the medical team had worked flat out. A number of passengers from the same extended family had caused the team problems with boisterous and demanding behaviour; they seemed to think they could monopolise the health centre throughout the three weeks. Knowing that the troublesome family had disembarked this morning added an extra spring to Sarah’s step.

  Sarah arrived in the medical centre where she passed through the waiting room into the storage room. She was singing out loud while stocking up medicines from there into the treatment rooms when the familiar teasing voice of her friend and colleague, Bernard, took her by surprise.

  “Who let the cat out?”

  “What are you doing here? I thought I was getting some peace and you were going into Southampton this morning.”

  “I was, but have you seen the weather? It’s pouring down. I don’t like your English winters, it is never like this in the Philippines.”

  “From what I hear, the rain can be much worse in your country. Monsoons, I think you call them!” Sarah was always happy to banter with Bernard who was like a mischievous teenager at times, despite being older than she was at thirty-four.

  “Ah yes, but then our rain is followed by beautiful sunshine, something your country knows little about.” He stroked his chin as he continued with a small sigh, “Although I concede our floods can be horrendous at times. Anyway, back to why I’m here. I didn’t feel like going out today; I was tired this morning and slept in. Brigitte kept me up late, moaning as usual about everything in the world. She was feeling so bad she drank one of my stingers without even realising it. She will have a bad head today, that’s for sure.”

  Bernard’s stinger was his top-secret cocktail recipe and not a drink for the fainthearted. Every so often, he would challenge crew members to taste it and guess what was in it – a pointless exercise as he wouldn’t tell them even if they were right.

  “Brigitte wouldn’t normally touch your toxic cocktail – she must have been in a bad way.”

  “She was in a right state.
After complaining about the horrible Munro family, she went off on one and started moaning about men…” he rolled his eyes “…again, and how awful we all are.”

  Sarah laughed. Bernard was frequently on the receiving end of their French colleague’s tongue lashings when it came to the frailties of men.

  “Now what has the masculine race done?”

  “It seems she has had another row with Novak. Not her fault, of course – it never is – and now she’s off men forever, she told me. We’re all the same: selfish – I won’t use the word she used, but you get the picture. They will be together again by tonight, I’m sure. She’s such a firebrand, that one, I don’t know how he tolerates her.”

  “Who tolerates who?” Gwen, the senior nurse, joined them in the treatment room.

  “Brigitte. It seems she and Novak have had a fight and Bernard was dealt the punishment for it.”

  “Ah,” Gwen recognised immediately there was no malice in Bernard’s comments as he and Brigitte had a topsy-turvy but positive friendship. Gwen strived for a happy team and they were pleased to oblige. “Did all the medicines arrive?”

  “Yes, I was just checking them in and stocking up when Bernard joined me.”

  “Why aren’t you in Southampton, Bernard?”

  “Hangover,” answered Sarah, shooting him a challenging glance. “He tried to blame the weather, but I know better.”

  “It’s hard being the only man in this team, and therefore a punch bag.” He pouted his lips, folding his arms across his chest for effect.

  “You’ve got Graham and Alex, what’s the matter with you?” Gwen retorted.

  “I know, but they’re doctors. I’m just a lowly nurse.”

  “Now that is a first,” laughed Gwen. “And long may you remember that moment of humility, Nurse Guinto. Right, I’ll leave you to it. I’m going to meet with Graham before the next lot of passengers arrive.” Gwen slapped Bernard on the back as she left. “Think yourself lucky we’ve got rid of the Munros.”