The Corpse with the Diamond Hand

by Cathy Ace

  The uproar is immediate. Good.

  The Storm Breaks

  EZRA HELD UP HIS HAND, requesting silence. “Please, everyone, I know it is a shock, but that is the truth.”

  “When I said I wanted to know who’d killed him, I didn’t expect you to say it might have been me,” said Derek.

  Ezra nodded graciously, shooting Derek a quick glance of gratitude. “I realize that, Mr. Cropper, so I feel I should explain.” Even Nigel settled himself down, with an expectant look on his face. “I interviewed everyone as a witness to what happened yesterday, and I had to carry out some background checks on everyone. My findings are not all my own.” Finally Ezra looked at Bud and me and said, “I am inviting Bud and Cait to speak at this point and I am sure you will understand why.”

  Ezra sat, and I stood. “Thank you Officer Eisen. Captain,” I nodded, and he did the same in return—best to get his blessing before I begin—“and fellow shipmates. I realize the fact that my husband and I have shared our observations and insights about all of you with Ezra will not make us popular. I have to say we both felt it our duty to help Ezra in his tasks, because we have a deeply felt desire to not only root out who killed a man, but also to help protect the innocent.” Puzzled looks. Good.

  “Let me explain,” I said, trying not to use my professorial voice. “Ezra has indicated that more than one person here might, and I emphasize might, have killed Tommy Trussler. Everyone had the opportunity, the means, and the motive to do so. As you look around at the faces in this room, you may wonder what dark secrets someone else has that could have led them to become a killer. Well, my husband put his finger on it yesterday, when, during a quiet chat, he said ‘Everyone lies, and everyone has secrets.’ They do. We all do.”

  I didn’t want to overplay my hand, but I needed everyone to feel the pressure. I pushed on, after giving the people in the room a moment for silent contemplation.

  “I am about to share secrets, mine and yours. It will be very uncomfortable for all of us, but it must be done. All of us have already had a life-changing experience. Now we’re all in for another one.”

  Behind me I heard a violent vibration, and we all looked at the captain, who slapped his little telephone to his ear. He said only one word: “Immediately.” He stood, bent to speak quietly to Ezra, then said to us, “I must leave. I am required on the bridge. The senior officer in the room is Dr. White,” he nodded at Rachel, “but for this process Officer Eisen leads.” He left through the door hurriedly opened by Officer Ocampo, who then resumed her guard.

  I tried to not lose my momentum. “I will begin by revealing something about myself that is not generally known. I was once arrested on suspicion of having murdered an ex-boyfriend of mine.” At this revelation, the curious expressions of those in the room quickly changed to shock and wariness. “I was investigated and cleared, but the press reaction to my situation made my life unbearable. So you see, I understand that the innocent can be impacted by a sudden death, as well as the guilty. And it is my desire to ensure that does not happen. Believe me when I tell you it is a very unpleasant experience, with serious consequences that change a person’s life forever. In Bud’s case, he carries in his heart the sadness that his first wife was killed by a man who mistook her for him.” Bud had known I’d be likely to do this, but it still hurt me to reveal him this way. At least you’re getting sympathetic looks, Bud.

  “And it’s not just me and Bud—as I said, everyone has secrets. Take Officer Eisen and Dr. White, for example. To begin with Rachel: I have observed a gesture she makes with her thumb and forefinger, drawing them down her chin when she’s thoughtful. To me this suggests her father had a beard and did the same. She’s picked up this habit from him, over time. Despite the lack of facial hair.”

  Rachel blushed and shrugged. Okay, here we go.

  “Also, Rachel and Ezra are a couple. She’s about to go on leave, and they are struggling with what that will mean for their relationship. They even had a quarrel the other day. Ezra grabbed her arm, she pulled it from him, and gave herself a nasty bruise in the process. I believe it was when Ezra asked her to marry him, and tried to present her with a diamond engagement ring. That’s right isn’t it, Rachel? Ezra?”

  They both flushed with embarrassment, especially as everyone looked at them and smiled. They each nodded, grudgingly.

  “Now, neither Ezra nor Rachel told me about this directly,” I added. “I saw what I saw, and worked out what it meant. It’s what Bud and I have been doing.” At this there was an increase in nervous fidgeting throughout the room.

  “Secrets and lies,” I continued. “They make good cover for a killer. Kai and Malia,” their heads popped around to look at me, “you told me that Tommy Trussler killed your son.”

  I heard a few gasps, and the Pukuis nodded sadly. Malia studied the table in front of her. “When you discovered that Tommy was the children’s entertainer whose escaping rabbit led to the accidental death of your son, you must have been very angry. Troubled and in turmoil. You had access to potentially lethal castor nut products, which you could easily have brought onto the ship from your family’s toiletry-manufacturing business in O’ahu. Kai certainly had the chance to put a poisonous substance into Tommy’s poi pot yesterday morning, then take the pot when we were all looking at the dolphins.”

  Every eye in the room was on Kai. Without flinching, he said, “I did not kill him, though I admit that Malia and I had made a decision that, when we returned home, we would report him to the authorities. I would not kill him. Nor anyone. My wife and I are peaceful people.”

  “Except that you were thankful that he was dead,” I said. “You believed he was a bad man. You showed me this by surreptitiously sprinkling salt all around the Games Room before we left. You took the little packets from the buffet, ripped them open, sprinkled the salt to prevent his evil spirit from finding you, then stuffed the wrappers into your pocket.”

  Kai nodded. “Yes, but it was not to protect me—it was to prevent his evil spirit from returning to his body if someone tried to revive him. You saw me do this?” he asked, surprised.

  I shook my head. “No, but I found the salt on the floor, and I know a little of the traditional Hawaiian customs that you and Malia hold dear.”

  “Mahalo,” said Kai quietly.

  Derek raised his hand, and I nodded. “You said that Kai could have poisoned Tommy’s poi pot?” I nodded. “Is that how he was killed then? ‘Cause that would explain why none of the rest of us was poisoned.”

  “We believe it was,” I replied calmly. A few faces showed understanding.

  Laurie followed her husband’s example and raised her hand. I invited her to speak.

  “I get that,” she began thoughtfully, “but couldn’t the poi have already been poisoned? You know, like days before, or something? Not by someone there yesterday morning at all?”

  “Good point,” I replied, trying to not sound patronizing, “and one that we addressed ourselves. The answer to that lies in the fact that, when the Games Room was cleared, there was no pot of poi to be found.”

  “I don’t get it,” said Derek.

  “Well, you see,” I said with import, “Only someone knowing that the pot contained the remnants of poisoned poi would bother to remove it. It was a risky business to pick it up, unnoticed, to remove it from the scene. The culprit must have been in the room, or someone who was protecting the culprit was there. Someone who knew that Tommy’s poi had been poisoned.”

  I allowed the facts to sink in. They did. I could almost hear the pennies dropping.

  “I repeat that I did not poison Tommy Trussler’s poi,” said Kai more forcefully.

  I was compelled to reply, “You might not have done, but your wife could have at an earlier time, and with your knowledge. Then, you simply picked up the evidence and walked out with it.”

  I noticed both Kai and Malia’s jaws clench, though neither said a word.

  “Or what about you, Ezra and Rachel?”
At this, there was a sharp intake of breath from Ezra. “Rachel has an entire dispensary from which she could remove any number of deadly pharmaceuticals, and deposit them in Tommy’s poi at an earlier time. Then, either of you could have removed the pot from the crime scene. You were both there after the fact, and would have been able to count on that.”

  I knew I’d caught both of the officers off-guard. I wasn’t surprised when Rachel White leapt to her feet and cried, “Neither Ezra nor I have any reason to do that.”

  “Tommy could have been a bit of a fly in the ointment of your relationship. I know that liaisons between officers are not disallowed by this cruise line, but they can be tricky. What if Tommy was goading one or both of you about how true the love of the other was?”

  Rachel plopped back into her seat. “Rubbish,” was all she had to say.

  “Then there’s you, Derek,” I said quickly, “or you, Laurie.”

  “But how? Why?” said Laurie, before she thought better of it.

  “Laurie, you and Derek have access to enough liquid nicotine, the stuff in your e-cigarettes, to kill everyone in this room, and there’s the little matter of your secret gambling sessions in your suite. My money’s on Tommy having taken you and your guests for quite a bit, being the cardsharp that he was.”

  Laurie and Derek looked completely nonplussed—first at me, then at each other.

  “How did you know?” asked Laurie.

  “Chips from a set owned by Tommy in your suite, and a bit too much emphasis, on your part, on how you were learning lessons about poker that you said were hard to take.”

  “We wouldn’t kill a man because of that!” said Derek. “It’s just money—and I, more than most, know there’s no way a human life weighs well in the balance against a few measly dollars.”

  I tried to instill my tone with all the meaning it deserved when I replied, “You might if the love of your life—as well as folks who were her guests at the private games—had been duped, basically robbed, and you had nothing to lose.” I knew no one else would have the slightest idea why Derek had nothing to lose, but I felt I’d leave him just one secret.

  The Croppers fell silent.

  “Of course, there’s also Bartholomew,” I said. Rachel glared at me, then turned to face her nurse, who looked horrified.

  “What do you mean?” she said on the man’s behalf.

  “Two words: coffee grounds,” I replied.

  “Explain,” said Rachel sharply.

  “I think Bartholomew can do that better than I could,” I said, wondering how far the doctor would go to defend her trusted aide.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” said Bartholomew loudly. “I ain’t got nothing to do with no coffee grounds.”

  “You and Bud found traces of coffee grounds in the carpet in the Games Room,” I said. “That’s correct, isn’t it?” Bartholomew nodded reluctantly. “They couldn’t have been there before the place was opened up, so they must have got there, somehow, afterward. Correct?”

  “I suppose.”

  “How better for them to end up on the carpet just where the dead man was positioned than by being dropped there by the first professional on the scene—you. So why did you have coffee grounds about your person, Bartholomew? Could you be secreting illicit drugs in the place they are least likely to be found? In the locked dispensary, surrounded by coffee grounds, ready for them to leave the ship with you, undetected? Might a nurse practitioner be a good person to traffic drugs across the oceans, especially when he has access to such a great hiding place? You are the person who orders, then clears to board, any re-supply of medical supplies at each port. What a wonderful way to bring illegal drugs onto the ship—along with those legitimately required for the dispensary. And what if Tommy Trussler had suspected this? It’s interesting, you know: I found a scribbled note in Tommy’s room. He was using it as a bookmark, which is probably why you failed to discover it when you, oh so conveniently, got to search his room. On the back of the piece of paper, Tommy had scribbled a cryptic list: ‘Benny 2K 10%, Cigar Man out, Queenie $$$, K—⅓=$?’ That’s what it said. I think that Queenie refers to Laurie Cropper. And I reckon you’re Benny. ‘Benny’ Goodman. And ‘2K?’ What about two kilos—of what, I’m not sure. Tommy was a man who could spot sleight of hand, because he was so good at it. He lived by his wits, and could likely see a guilty act a mile off. He’s probably been keeping an eye on you for some time. Did he confront you about it? Demand money? A cut—maybe ten percent? Did you take some drugs from the dispensary, something that might not be missed because it’s essentially harmless, unless taken in quantity, manage to slip the stuff into his poi at an earlier time, and wait until he got to what was, after all, his last pot? You knew he’d eat the stuff eventually, and, of course, you could easily make sure you were the first to respond to the Star code in the Games Room, and remove the empty pot.”

  Bartholomew stood up. “It’s rubbish. Honest it is. I haven’t got any drugs. And if there are any hidden in the dispensary, who’s to say I put them there? It could be anyone.”

  “It could only be one of seven people on this ship,” said Rachel. “What have you done, Bartholomew? Tell me! I relied on you to check and sign for all the supplies. You’ve been my right hand. I’ve been such a fool. I trusted you.” She cursed under her breath.

  “I’m not saying anything,” said Bartholomew, folding his arms.

  “That is your right,” said Ezra. He nodded at Officer Ocampo; she pulled open the door, beckoning in two security officers who, unbeknownst to me, had been placed outside the room. As they entered, Ezra stood and said, “You two officers will accompany Nurse Bartholomew Goodman to the cells in our security offices. You will secure him there, then one of you will make your way to the dispensary in the medical facility, and bar anyone from entering it until I arrive. In case of an emergency, you are to accompany anyone who must enter, note what they remove, and report to me. Understood?”

  Bartholomew shot a hateful glare toward Ezra as he was led away. “True love? It don’t pay the bills, you know!” he said.

  There was silence after the doors closed behind Bartholemew, and I allowed a couple of moments for the shock waves to subside.

  Ezra looked at me with an intensity that told me he thought it all might be over.

  “So, did Bartholomew do it?” said Derek, sounding surprised to hear his own voice.

  “The medical bag Bartholomew had with him—he’s the only one who could have removed the poi pot from the room,” said Ezra. “Of course!”

  I shook my head. “No. Bartholomew was the one person in my sight the whole time—he didn’t go anywhere near Tommy’s little desk where the pot stood. He didn’t take the pot, but he didn’t need to. I realized earlier today, when I was packing, that anyone could have taken it. You see, Tommy was a seasoned traveler—his was a collapsible pot. The stepped sides should have told me that. Bartholomew could have killed Tommy, and he might have wanted to, but he didn’t need to. Someone else got rid of his blackmailer for him, which was lucky for him. Which brings me to our next suspect. That would be you, Afrim.”

  The man jumped. He looked terrified.

  “I?” he managed to squeak.

  “Yes, you—the invisible server, the man who had the most opportunities to poison Tommy Trussler. What reason did you have to want the man dead?”

  Afrim shook his head violently. “None. I had no reason. I did not know the man at all.”

  “Maybe not,” I replied, “But Winston might have.” It was the jolly bartender’s turn to look alarmed.

  “You and Tommy had an argument, didn’t you, Winston? He reported you, and got you demoted. Right? His little note mentioned ‘Cigar man out.’ That would be you.”

  Winston’s usually broad grin shrank to a tiny, hopeful smile. “I don’t smoke cigars. Why you t’ink dat’s me?”

  “Because of the man you were named after,” I replied evenly.

  “Me Dad?” he looked puzzled.
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  “No, Winston Churchill. Churchill cigars,” I said quietly.

  Winston’s face cleared. “Right, mon. Churchill.” He grinned, then his face fell into a sullen look. “It’s not such a bad demotion, just a small one. I still have my evening shifts at the best bar on the ship. Is madness to t’ink I kill a man for dis. How I kill him, anyways?”

  “Like the Pukuis could have done—you put the poison in his poi. Maybe some over-the-counter medication you could easily get hold of. Then Afrim sneaked the pot out of the Games Room.”

  Winston and Afrim looked at each other, then me, with puzzlement. “But we ain’t even good mates,” said Winston, as if that explained everything.

  “So you say,” I replied, “but, if you don’t mind me asking, what was it that you and Tommy rowed about in any case?”

  Winston shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Pulling himself upright, he said, “I not sure I should say.” He glanced at Ezra, then dropped his gaze.

  “Out with it,” said Ezra forcefully.

  “It’s okay, I can see it’s making him squirm,” I replied. “Besides, I’m pretty sure I know what it was.”

  Winston looked at me with an unblinking stare of disbelief.

  “What did I tell you about it, Bud?” I said.

  All eyes turned to Bud, most filled with real curiosity. Bud’s voice was music to my ears. “You said that Winston and Tommy were likely arguing because when Winston was serving cold drinks on the pier at Kona, he had overheard a conversation between Tommy and a guest, where Tommy was either attempting to blackmail a guest, or make it clear that he had incriminating evidence that could be used against them.”

  Winston sucked his teeth loudly. “That’s about right,” he replied. “Tommy Trussler’s not de man you all t’ink he was. Might’a been a war hero an’ all, but he weren’t a good man.”

  “Quite right,” said Nigel, unwisely. “He might have won some medals, but the man was a horrid little sneak-thief.” He looked over at Laurie and said, “I’m not surprised to find out he took your money at cards. The man was utterly dishonest.”