A Christmas Cruise Murder

by Dawn Brookes

  “Thank heavens!” Rachel felt herself relaxing, but decided to pour herself a martini from the mini-bar before sitting opposite the chief. “The only person I met was a maître d called Stefan Sosa. I take it that’s who you mean?”

  Waverley coughed. “Precisely. I’m afraid Mr Sosa was, erm, unfortunately found dead in his room earlier this evening and I was wondering if you could shed any light on his mental state when you met him. I assumed from what Goodridge told me that you’d had a conversation with the man.”

  “You could call it that. We introduced ourselves, passed the time of day and spoke briefly, but to be honest, I wouldn’t describe it as a conversation. He came across as a rather unhappy man, though, if that helps. How did he die?”

  “We’re not certain. It appears he had an anaphylactic reaction to something he ate, as far as we can tell at present. Did you notice him eating anything while you were travelling?”

  “Nothing that I saw. He slept part of the way and gazed out of the window. I would have noticed if he’d eaten anything major, but I couldn’t tell you for certain. He may well have sucked a sweet or popped a toffee in his mouth, and I wouldn’t necessarily have seen that. I texted Carlos while we travelled so may have been distracted. He did appear to be muttering to himself quite a bit, which I found odd.”

  She noticed a flicker of hope appear in Waverley’s eyes and wondered what he was hiding. Of course it would be easier if the man had eaten something on the bus that later caused a reaction, but still, Waverley was not his usual self.

  “Did he have known allergies?”

  The cough told her that Waverley was indeed concerned about something else. “Yes, he was allergic to nuts and nut residue, peanuts in particular, but he was on a special allergy diet.” He coughed again. “It looks as though it might have been the bread.”

  Rachel nodded sympathetically, immediately understanding why he was so concerned. Waverley’s new wife worked in the ship’s bakery, but that didn’t mean she was the one who had made the mistake.

  Waverley ran his hand through his thinning hair. His hairline seemed to recede with each cruise she took; she hoped the two things weren’t related.

  He rose to leave. “I don’t suppose he mentioned anyone threatening him at all?”

  “I don’t see why he would tell me anything like that, chief. Surely you don’t suspect foul play?”

  He looked down, forlorn. “Not really, but it can’t be ruled out just yet. There is something else odd. He had anti-allergy pens within reaching distance and yet he didn’t use them.”

  “Perhaps the reaction came on too suddenly, or perhaps he was so unhappy he decided to end it all in the only way he knew how.”

  “Well if he did, he changed his mind. He was found on the floor with the drawer containing the pens open.”

  “People do change their minds, chief. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

  “You could be right.” Waverley’s shoulders slumped and he took a deep breath.

  “Actually, thinking back, he did speak quite bitterly about his colleagues a few times. Said they hated him, and he may have half-joked about them needing to kill him if they wanted to get rid of him, which suggests he wasn’t contemplating suicide, but who knows? I don’t remember exactly what he said; he appeared a bit paranoid and I was only half listening. I couldn’t take to him, but I wish I’d paid more attention now.”

  Waverley’s head jerked upright, but then his shoulders slumped again. He walked towards the door.

  “I have taken up enough of your time; I’ll leave you to it. Thank you for your assistance.”

  Rachel stared at the back of the door after the security chief left. CSO Waverley had become a friend of sorts over the past few years and she had never seen him looking so down. He was usually confident and bullish, even when she disagreed with him, but the man who had just left her room looked defeated. What was that all about? It could just be the fear that his wife or another member of the crew had made a terrible mistake, but this reaction belied a deeper fear – one that she would like to help him with. But how?

  Jack Waverley’s head was down as he walked towards his office. Jason had been waiting outside for half an hour and couldn’t help wondering why his boss wanted him to accompany him to interview Brenda. If it had been Sarah involved, Jason would want to speak to her alone before any investigation was launched. He’d want to reassure her that she had his full support, whatever happened. This behaviour was slightly out of character for the chief who, although he dotted the i’s and crossed the t’s, would also do his utmost to protect his own, which was why Jason liked him so much – they were both loyal.

  Waverley ambled along slowly, looking like he had the weight of the world on his back. He appeared not to see Jason and headed straight through to his office.

  “Er, hum.”

  Waverley jumped and turned around. Was that a tear? Jason’s heart beat a little faster. What the heck was going on?

  “Ah, there you are, Goodridge. Come in.”

  Jason flicked the light switch as his boss walked heavily towards his desk in the dark. “Sir, are you okay?”

  Waverley didn’t lift his head, but flopped down in his chair, ignoring the question. “What did you find out?”

  “Dr Bentley is convinced it was an anaphylactic reaction and that it occurred suddenly. He says Sosa would have died within minutes, but he won’t know for certain until after the post-mortem. The body and the evidence were due to leave the ship a short while ago. I felt the ship stop so I expect it’s all on the way to Southampton now. The doctor did also say he was a known drinker and concurred the whisky might have affected his judgement and ability to react, but—”

  “But what?”

  “I worked with a lot of heavy drinkers in the army, sir, and there are many on this ship. Those who drink like that can behave perfectly normally with reasonable reaction times. Having said that, we don’t know how much he’d had to drink. He could have been on a binge in London for all we know.”

  “Quite. Has the man’s son been informed?”

  Jason had received a call from Gwen Sumner while he was waiting for the chief, informing him that Sosa had a son listed as next of kin. How come his boss knew that? Perhaps he was testing him.

  “Dr Bentley has phoned the son, yes.”

  “Was he alright?”

  “The son or Doctor Bentley, sir?”

  “The son,” Waverley snapped.

  “I don’t know, sir. I understand from what Gwen told me that he’s studying at Exeter University and, from Dr Bentley’s conversation with him, she surmised that they weren’t close, but that’s all I know.”

  “Yes, he has a promising career ahead of him, I believe, studying physics. Wants to work with nuclear energy. Why anyone would want to do that is beyond me.”

  Jason’s mouth dropped open. “Is there something going on here I should know about, sir?”

  “Not yet, Goodridge. It might not be relevant anyway. Now let’s go and interview the bakery staff, shall we?”

  “Including your wife, sir?”

  “Yes, Goodridge,” Waverley sighed heavily, “Including my wife.”

  Jason followed his boss out of the chief of security’s office, feeling like he was missing something that formed part of a bigger picture, but it seemed Waverley was deliberately keeping him in the dark, so he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to know. Surely his boss wouldn’t be covering anything up?

  He kept in step with the chief while mulling things over in his mind. Of course Waverley would be worried. If his wife had made a fatal error, it could cost Brenda her job, but why did Waverley know so much about the dead man’s son? What else did he know that Jason didn’t? Jason tried to reassure himself that Waverley was testing his thoroughness in case he had to drop out of the investigation rather than the alternative: that his boss might be part of some sort of conspiracy.

  They arrived at the galley and passed chefs, galley staff and waiters goi
ng about their nightly duties. Dinner was well over, although the buffet staff would still be working upstairs. Here, though, the bakery was in full flow. It was almost midnight and the nightshift bakery staff were starting on fresh bread, rolls, pastries and other delicacies ready for the breakfasts.

  A flustered woman who Jason hadn’t met before was in the allergy section of the bakery as they arrived.

  “Stop right there,” she commanded.

  Waverley drew to a halt and stared down at the round woman dressed in whites, hands on hips, sternly blocking his path.

  “I need to speak to the bakery staff that were on duty around early dinnertime.”

  “Well you won’t find them here. Don’t you know what time it is?” she answered brusquely, her Scottish accent becoming more pronounced as she raised her voice.

  “Perhaps you could provide me with their names, then, and I will need the meal preparation list that was sent up to Mr Sosa at around five-thirty.”

  “Oh, him. Yes, of course, I heard he’d died. I shouldn’t think it’s any great loss, although I don’t like to speak ill of the dead. What’s that got to do with his meal? I thought it was a heart attack.”

  Waverley tensed. “That’s for me to know. Please just give me what I need.”

  “Alright, no need to bark. Wait there.” The woman’s chest heaved up and down, affording Jason a brief glance at a badge revealing her as the bakery supervisor before she bustled away from them.

  Jason couldn’t resist chuckling to himself. He had never heard anyone speak to his boss like this woman had just done, and the redness rising from the chief’s neck to his forehead confirmed that Waverley was not used to it either. If Waverley hadn’t been so worried, Jason was certain he would have put the woman in her place, but as it was, this was turning out to be no ordinary situation.

  The evening supervisor returned, breathless, with a piece of paper in her hand. “Here is the staff list, the details of what was ordered by that horrible man…”

  Clearly not speaking ill of the dead, Jason thought.

  “…the food that was plated, and who delivered it to the room. I can tell you now, though, chief, our procedures are rigorous. None of the food prepared here would contain anything he was allergic to, if that’s what you’re thinking, and you of all people should know that.”

  At this point, she puffed out her chin, defiantly challenging Waverley to contradict her.

  “Thank you for the information,” Waverley replied timidly, concentrating on the list he had been given.

  Almost as soon as the two men left the kitchen, both of their radios sounded.

  “Captain requests your attendance on the bridge.”

  The message was the same for each of them. Jason looked at his boss, who managed a grim smile before marching towards the lift in the staff area leading up to the bridge. Jason followed in silence. He would find out soon enough what this was all about.

  Chapter 6

  Rachel’s instincts told her the death of Stefan Sosa was not down to chance, but whether it was murder or suicide she wasn’t entirely certain. It seemed an odd way to commit suicide. She had come across diabetics who overdosed on insulin and those who stopped treating themselves, but she hadn’t heard of anyone deliberately giving themselves anaphylaxis.

  She was also worried about Waverley and the implications for him if his wife had made a mistake. Would Brenda get the sack, and if so, what would that do to Waverley’s career? Waverley was in his fifties, but didn’t appear to be a man considering retirement.

  These thoughts prevented her from going to bed after the chief had left. Strictly speaking, it was none of her business and the sensible thing would be to leave well alone, but since when had she done the sensible thing when there was a puzzling death to be solved? She resolved to sleep on the matter and see what the morning brought.

  After finishing a second martini, she was just about to get ready for bed when she remembered the wallet she had found on the seat of the bus.

  “Drat! I should have handed this in.” She took it out of her handbag, opened it up and checked the contents.

  An hour later, Rachel was still mulling over what she had found.

  I should show it to Waverley, but it’s too late now.

  She stared at the door card in her hand and sighed. There was no way she would sleep until she’d checked Stefan Sosa’s room for herself, but she couldn’t go alone. She remembered Jason was on duty, but didn’t know where security hung out at night. Reluctant to page him, she picked up the phone and dialled.

  A sleepy voice answered. “Hello?”

  “Sarah, sorry to wake you. Can I come down?”

  “Rachel, it’s two o’clock in the morning! Are you ill?”

  “No, I need to speak to Jason, but don’t know how to get hold of him. Can you ask him to meet us in your room?”

  Her friend sounded fully alert now. “Whatever this is about, I don’t like the sound of it. Tell me why?”

  Rachel explained about Waverley’s visit and the death of the maître d. Sarah hadn’t heard about it as she had accompanied her parents to the evening show, being off duty, and had headed straight to her room afterwards.

  Then Rachel told her about what she had found on the bus. “So, you see, I need to speak to him. I don’t want to wake Waverley; I want to take a look in the man’s room, preferably with Jason. The wallet contains Sosa’s room card. I could go alone, but I’d rather not.”

  “No, you certainly must not do that. I’ll call Jason and have him meet us. Give me half an hour to shower and dress.”

  Rachel returned the phone to its cradle and noticed the message light flashing.

  That’s odd, Sarah didn’t tell me she’d called earlier.

  She lifted the receiver again and pressed the button, recognising the voice straight away.

  “Rachel, I’m sorry to bother you, I realise you are on holiday, but I have friends aboard the Coral Queen who may be in danger. I’ll call again in the morning to explain further. I realise you won’t have a mobile signal over the next few days, but I can contact you via the purser’s office. God bless. Goodnight.”

  Rachel listened to the message again a couple of times before heading off to Sarah’s room.

  Half an hour later, Rachel, Sarah and Jason were sitting around a coffee table, drinking strong coffee. Jason had arrived in Sarah’s room just before Rachel; he looked tired, but he also looked stressed. Rachel wondered if he already suspected something.

  “Before I tell you what I’ve found, I must ask that you don’t tell the chief just yet, because it implicates his wife and I can’t quite get my head around it. My first reaction was to tell him, but now I don’t think that’s wise.”

  Rachel noticed Jason stiffen and the frown on his face became even more pronounced than it had been before.

  “I didn’t think this night could get any worse,” he groaned. “Ordinarily I would refuse your request, but the chief is off the case so I’m not obliged to inform him of anything that relates to it.”

  Both Sarah and Rachel stared at Jason in disbelief. “What do you mean, off the case?” asked Rachel.

  “Just that. Captain Jenson summoned us both to the bridge around 12.20am just after we’d been to the galley. The captain was none too happy as he’d found out that the dead man was Brenda Waverley’s ex brother-in-law and there had been animosity brewing between them.”

  Jason put his head in his hands for a moment and sighed before taking a gulp of coffee and looking up again.

  “Stefan Sosa had been married to Brenda’s sister, but they divorced. It seems he was violent towards both her and their son. Brenda persuaded her sister to leave him long before she met the boss, and the sister, Christine Sosa – now Christine Jones, and their son Mikey did a bunk with Brenda late one night while Sosa was at work. They stayed hidden in a relative’s country cottage while acrimonious divorce proceedings went through.

  “That was ten years ago. Mikey is now M
ichael Jones, having taken his mother’s maiden name. However, he was listed as Sosa’s next of kin – a recent change, I’m told – so the deceased obviously knew about the name change and where Michael could be found.”

  “I see,” said Rachel thoughtfully. “So I take it, if this all happened ten years ago, that the divorce wasn’t the end of it?”

  “No, Sosa plagued his ex-wife through a mutual friend, who agreed to deliver his letters but not divulge Christine’s address. At first the letters were pleading, spelling out Sosa’s love for her and their son, requesting access to the boy which had been denied by the courts – that sort of thing. When the letters became more threatening, the mutual friend refused to deliver any more and there was no contact for seven years, until very recently.”

  “Is that why Sosa went to London yesterday?” asked Rachel.

  “I think so. I haven’t had a chance to interview Brenda yet, but I suspect he contacted Christine again before his demise.”

  “Did Waverley know about any of this?”

  “He only heard about the history when he became aware that Brenda never spoke to Sosa, despite them both being involved in the catering side of things. He didn’t know about the recent contact, but I think he suspected something, either immediately or shortly after the man was found dead and it appeared the kitchen staff might be implicated in his downfall.”

  “No wonder he looked so worried.” Rachel was saddened by the whole situation.

  “So, Rachel, what have you discovered and why does it implicate Brenda?”

  Rachel explained how she had picked up the card wallet after Sosa exited the bus and had meant to hand it in, but forgot all about it on boarding. Then later, when Rachel met up with Jason, Sarah and her parents, it had slipped her mind again.