by Dawn Brookes
“Your mum means well, Sarah. She loves you, so stop moaning.”
“I know, we get on great as long as there’s a little distance between us, otherwise she wants to take complete control over everything. Dad just lets her dictate the terms of their marriage, but I don’t want to be like that.”
“But they are happy. Your dad adores her and vice versa. Mums only want daughters to be happily married and taken care of. Mine does anyway. Dad would be happy for me to be an independent single for life, but Mum wants me settled down and probably out of the police force.”
“At least that’s rational. I sometimes want you out of the police force, Rachel. It’s so dangerous.”
“Now you’re sounding like your mother!”
They laughed again and said goodbye, arranging to meet the next morning on shore. They were going on a private tour of the island of Madeira, a Christmas treat from the Bradshaws.
Rachel felt the familiar fluttering in her stomach at the thought of seeing Carlos, but she needed to focus on getting this case solved. Still she hadn’t found the time or the memory to mention the McCauleys to anyone. She hoped her theory about them not being in any danger until the return journey was right, but she was taking a huge risk.
Chapter 19
The visit to Madeira had been a welcome break and the enforced rest in the people carrier helped Rachel’s aches and pains ease off substantially. They had visited all the popular tourist attractions, including some areas off the beaten track. The weather had been warm and sunny.
“I can’t believe it’s December and we’re only four days away from Christmas, it feels like summer.” Mary Bradshaw had thoroughly enjoyed the island, and witnessing her pleasure had made everyone’s day so much richer.
“Your mum’s like a child again,” Rachel had remarked to Sarah when they had stopped for lunch.
Sarah had beamed. “I love it when she’s like this, she can be so happy and carefree when she lets go. Dad’s enjoying it too, but he isn’t an extrovert.”
By the time they arrived back at the ship, they were all tired and Sarah had to rush off to get ready for surgery; she was also doing the on call. The medical and nursing staff took turns having days off and they were each having two days out of the next four on a rota, so Sarah would be off when they got to Gran Canaria. Bernard had also had the day off today, but had chosen to go to the beach with a group of Filipino friends.
Rachel said goodbye to the Bradshaws and made her way back to her room to get ready for dinner. The only problem with the day had been her dread of this evening’s meal. An early morning telephone call from Dr Bentley had surprised her, and when he’d told her he had arranged for her to dine with Stella and Paulo Gonzalez that evening, she had not been at all happy.
Under Waverley’s direction, Dr Bentley had encouraged the couple to attend, explaining that an informal conversation over a meal might help them move forward following the untimely death of their estranged relative. He had also managed to convince Stella that it was ship procedure to have a counselling session following a bereavement and that it could be informal or formal. Rachel was not keen to be an undercover counsellor again and had made that clear, but Dr Bentley told her it had all been Waverley’s suggestion. Not wanting to upset the CSO in case he hadn’t managed to patch things up with Brenda, she’d reluctantly agreed. The only advantage was that dinner was in the Steak Restaurant and the usual financial supplement was being waived.
Both Paulo and Stella knew how to dress, Rachel observed. From what she remembered of Stefan, he had been quite a scruffy looking man and totally unattractive, nothing like his elegant sister who turned men’s heads with ease. Rachel was used to men looking at her because of her natural beauty, but it appeared that the fifty-year-old Stella Gonzalez could outdo her. She was happy about it as she never invited the attention and certainly didn’t welcome it. As a woman, she appreciated glamour when she saw it, and the beautiful mature woman who joined her in the bar before they went through for dinner exuded glamour.
Rachel’s beauty wasn’t lost on Paulo, however, and she couldn’t fail to detect a leer, not to mention the smell of alcohol not quite drowned out by strong aftershave, when he kissed her on the cheek on meeting. Stella appeared oblivious, but Rachel would keep Paulo at arm’s length. When the waiter pulled out a chair so that Paulo could sit next to her at the table, Rachel declined.
“I prefer the view from here,” she said as she moved to the chair next to Stella. The waiter hurried around the table and pulled out her preferred chair. Rachel noticed a twitch of a smirk on Paulo’s lips. He was playing with her.
Paulo was given the wine list to choose drinks. Queen Cruises, like many cruise liners Rachel imagined, had not yet come to terms with the fact that women were quite capable of choosing their own drinks.
At least they have moved on from asking men to order dinner for us, Rachel thought. She was feeling irritable at having to keep up the counselling charade, and now she had to spend time with a man who had clearly had a little too much to drink. The consoling factor was that it might loosen his tongue, but she hoped he wouldn’t be inappropriate and embarrass either her or his wife.
“What would you like to drink, darling?” Paulo handed the drinks menu to his wife and Rachel kicked herself for assuming he was a misogynist like his brother-in-law had been. Stella scanned it before handing it to Rachel.
“Would red be okay with you?” she asked.
“Yes, I’ll be having steak, so red is superb. I don’t mind which, you choose,” Rachel replied, handing back the menu to Stella.
“Are you allowed to drink on duty?” asked Paulo, giving Rachel a penetrating gaze.
“As this is an informal conversation, it’s allowed.”
“Ah yes, an informal though compulsory meeting.” He frowned.
“Don’t start that again, Paulo. We’re here for our own benefit, so try to be polite and enjoy dinner.” Stella lifted her eyes to hold his. “Please, for my sake.”
“Of course. I apologise, Miss Prince. I take it the Miss is correct, although not for too much longer, I see.”
Noticing he was staring at her engagement ring, she blushed, and felt the blush deepening at the excitement of knowing that Carlos would be with her soon.
“It’s Rachel, please. We don’t need to be formal, as I’ve already said.”
Paulo made to say something, but changed his mind after a glare from his wife. The wine waiter arrived and looked towards Paulo, who directed him with a swift head movement to his wife.
“We’ll have a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon.”
“Good choice, ma’am,” said the waiter.
“Red wine is poor quality in Cuba. We have to import decent wine to drink, so I always bring some home when I go to the United States on business,” explained Paulo to Rachel. “Cabernet Sauvignon is my wife’s favourite with steak. I’ll have a rum and coke,” he added, turning to the waiter. “Just the two glasses for the wine.”
Rachel wished Sarah was here; her friend loved steak, whereas Rachel could only take red meat in small quantities, and nerves were making her appetite disappear. If she had been with Sarah, there would have been no problem and a T-bone would be at the top of her list, but impersonating a counsellor was not enabling her gastric juices to flow.
They ordered dinner while their drinks were being poured and Rachel settled for a small sirloin, medium to well done. Paulo ordered a T-bone steak and Stella joined the sirloin fraternity. The Gonzalezes were quiet, waiting for Rachel to start her probing.
Come on, Prince, pull yourself together or this evening is going to be a disaster.
With that internal cajoling and a larger than usual sip of wine, she relaxed. What was the worst that could happen?
“This cabernet is delicious. I think I could get to like it.” She had just managed to stop herself saying she might buy some when she got home.
Paulo nodded approval at her good taste as he wiped a piece of fluff
off his jacket.
“Please tell me about Cuban cuisine. I’d love to hear more about your country.”
“My mother was a wonderful cook,” said Stella. “I’m not such a good cook and we hire someone who prepares most of our meals, except when it’s a special occasion, then I do it. Our meals are a mix of Spanish and Caribbean. There is also an African influence on what we eat. We like spicy food, but not as hot as in Africa. The Americans like to feel they influence our tastes, but not really.”
Stella told Rachel about some of her mother’s home-made recipes that the family loved to eat and it wasn’t long before she was feeling hungry. Rachel steered away from politics as she feared Paulo might not be easily controlled on that topic.
As the conversation and the alcohol flowed, both Paulo and Stella relaxed. Rachel was careful to drink slowly and cover her glass when the waiter came to refill, ensuring that Stella got the lion’s share. Paulo had no problem requesting more rum and asked for separate bottles of coke so that he could choose how much to add. As he’d obviously started drinking early, he was soon speaking freely and unguardedly. Rachel sensed it was time to probe.
“Have you ever cruised before?” she asked.
“I used to join my brother for holidays aboard the Coral Queen when he first got a job as waiter. Paulo was never interested, but my parents came a couple of times until the relationship soured.”
“What caused it to go sour?”
“It started after Stefan got divorced. My parents were Catholic and did not approve of divorce. They were devastated at not being able to see their grandson. Paulo and me couldn’t have children.” A tear threatened to fall, but with a blink of the eye it disappeared.
Paulo took over. “I didn’t like Stella’s brother, he was not a gentleman. I saw the way he treated his wife on the few occasions we met during holidays. The boy didn’t seem happy. There were times when I wanted to snatch him away, I can tell you. That man didn’t deserve to have a child while we—”
“Don’t, Paulo. Anyway, my father was always the kindest of men and he loved my mother. I think Stefan was more like my uncle. He was the Cuban stereotype: male chauvinist, and this is what my mother didn’t like. I think the divorce broke her heart and she became frail, ageing rapidly.
“The final meeting I mentioned yesterday between my parents and Stefan was devastating. At a family gathering, he blamed Mother for the breakup of his marriage, which was incorrect and unfair, but sadly she believed it and never recovered.”
“We know who was responsible. You all protected him for too long, he was spoilt.” Paulo turned to address Rachel. “Cuban boys, particularly oldest boys, are treated like you British treated your boys in the nineteenth century, Miss Prince. Sorry, Rachel.” At this point, Paulo put a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Stella believed her brother could change, but trust me, he would never have changed. I can’t pretend I’m sorry he’s dead.”
“What about you, Stella?”
“Paulo’s right, I used to think Stefan could change and that he would one day come to his senses. After Father’s death, when I saw that he had cost us our inheritance, I hated him for that. If I’d seen him then, I don’t know what I would have done, but then I thought it could be the opportunity to bring those of us left closer together. I imagined he was close to his son because he’d always told the family that he was, but he tormented my parents, saying that his ex-wife would never let them see Mikey again. He was a cruel man, Rachel, I realise that now, and he lied to us all for years, so no, I am not sorry he’s dead. I’m sorry he wouldn’t change, but it seems it wasn’t only his family he treated badly.”
“What makes you say that?”
“There must have been a reason for someone to murder my brother. People don’t kill for nothing. All I want now is to reconcile our friendship with Christine and Mikey. Mikey will be the only one left who can carry on the family name; there are no other Sosas left.”
Rachel felt it best not to mention that Christine had changed the boy’s surname back to her family name, or that there was also a daughter who could carry on the bloodline, if not the name. Danielle Barcellos would most likely prefer not to become acquainted with Stefan’s family, even if they did appear genuine. If everything they were saying was true, the Gonzalazes could be relegated to the bottom of her suspect list, and while she was pleased, it was frustrating not knowing who was responsible for Sosa’s death.
The meal ended with coffees all round, and despite Paulo’s initial guardedness, he and Stella both admitted they had had a wonderful evening and felt they had made a new friend. Rachel wasn’t sure whether it was the drink talking, but she had warmed to the couple and empathised with how the family had suffered at the hands of the late Stefan Sosa.
If only she wasn’t driven by the desire to see justice done, she would forget about the case, but that’s not who she was.
Chapter 20
Rachel woke with renewed vigour. Now she had ruled out the Gonzalez couple it was time to refocus on the chief suspect in her mind, Pashmarli Bakshi. With the inheritance ruled out as a motive, he had the most to gain from Sosa’s death.
After going for a gentle gym workout and steering clear of the running track, she ate breakfast in the buffet and waited for Bernard and Sarah to join her.
“Good morning, Rachel. You even look beautiful in the morning, how can that be?” Bernard arrived first, and Sarah followed a few minutes later.
“What’s this all about?” she asked.
“I’ve more or less ruled out Stella and Paulo Gonzalez.”
“The subterfuge worked then?”
Rachel scowled at Sarah. “Not that I liked it one little bit, but yes it did. They had quite a lot to drink and that loosened their tongues. They are easy to read, and although there was no love lost between Stella and her brother, she is a kind person at heart.”
“Ah, but what about him? Slimy looking fella, I thought.”
“Bernard, stop it,” said Sarah.
“No, he is a trifle smarmy, but underneath it all, he appears to love his wife and I don’t believe he knew Sosa still worked on board this ship, whereas Stella did. I still don’t have her down as a murderer, though.”
“But you said there was no love lost between Stella and her brother, and money is often behind murder.”
“My gut tells me she didn’t do it.”
The three laughed loudly. Rachel’s gut was something that annoyed Waverley to distraction and he often rebuked her over her intuition.
“So who did do it then? We need to find out before Carlos joins the ship,” said Sarah.
Bernard’s eyes widened. He was clearly not included in the people who were in the know about Rachel’s fiancé coming on board.
“That’s wonderful news. When?”
“He hasn’t confirmed yet, it will either be tomorrow in Gran Canaria, or more likely Lanzarote on Christmas Eve,” Rachel answered.
“I am so pleased. I only met him on your first cruise and that seems a lifetime away. I wish my family could join us, but not to be.”
“I’m sorry, Bernard. You must miss them at this time of year.”
“I do, but I will be on leave again soon enough. We will Skype on Christmas Day and I get to watch them open their presents.” A tear threatened to fall as Sarah patted him on the shoulder.
“You’re with your second family. Not quite the same, but we’ll have fun.”
Bernard smiled at his colleague, and then returned his attention to Rachel with quizzically raised eyebrows.
“Back to our murder suspects. Okay, Pash is my chief suspect. He had opportunity, and he has motive once we put the inheritance money to one side. He’s ambitious and wanted to take over as maître d; he hated Sosa because he was being blackmailed; and he knew about his boss’s drink habit. It would have been easy for him to spike the whisky anytime during the day when Sosa was off ship.”
Sarah was making warning signals with her eyes and frantically poi
nting with her head. Rachel stopped speaking and looked behind her to find Waverley smirking with raised eyebrows.
“Do go on, don’t mind me,” he said and sat down next to Rachel.
“Anyway, Bernard, I can’t get anything out of him. Pash won’t speak to me, so I thought you might be able to take him to the crew bar or wherever he hangs out after work and gently grill him. See if you can get him to open up about his life; I’m sure he’s itching to tell someone how much he hated the dead man.”
Bernard rubbed his hands together. “Yippee! I finally get to use my detective skills.”
“You’ve already used them twice on this voyage,” Sarah reminded him.
“Oh yes, but that was easy.” Looking at Rachel, he said, “Okay, I’ll do it.”
“Actually, you won’t,” said Waverley, causing them to protest in unison. “Stop! It’s not that I won’t allow it; it’s just that, although the plan may seem like a good one, Miss Prince – and far be it from me to argue with your ‘gut’ – I’m afraid this time your radar is way off.”
“What do you mean?” asked Sarah.
Rachel grimaced. “You’ve already arrested him.”
“Wrong again. No, it appears that Pashmarli Bakshi has gone AWOL. A general search has revealed nothing.”
“Why would he hide unless he thought you were on to him, Rachel?” Sarah asked.
“Either that or I am wrong and he’s become a second victim,” Rachel muttered before pouring herself another strong coffee from the pot on the table. “In which case, we’re back to square one and are no nearer to finding the killer. What do you think?” Rachel addressed her question to Waverley, who appeared to be enjoying her consternation.
“It’s hard to tell. He could be our man and someone found out and threatened him so he’s gone into hiding, or – and I’m more inclined to believe this – he is another victim, as you suggest.”
