by Dawn Brookes
“I can’t afford a cruise now. If I didn’t work on this ship, I wouldn’t know they existed,” moaned Bernard.
“Then be thankful and stop complaining,” said Gwen.
Undeterred, Bernard looked at Sarah. “What do you think about them, Sarah?”
Sarah, still suffering from the loss of her childhood pet, answered absentmindedly. “They are boisterous, but they seem pretty harmless on the whole, I guess.” Gwen looked sympathetic as Sarah had told her about Pickles when she’d asked her if anything was wrong this morning, noticing her eyes were swollen.
“Harmless?” chirped Brigitte. “I would like to give them all a good bit of French discipline.”
“Not Madame Guillotine, I hope.” Graham laughed. Brigitte scowled at him.
“Don’t joke about such things. I am not proud of parts of French history, but you British have no room to talk.”
“Sorry, no offence, and I agree those boys need a firm hand. Waverley will clamp down on them soon, I’m sure, and then they’ll realise what discipline is.”
They all laughed at this point. The medical team enjoyed their camaraderie and generally hit it off together. Bernard was the funny guy and usually made people happy, Brigitte could be blunt but was a pussycat underneath, Gwen, their team leader, reined them in when necessary and Sarah often provided the balance. Graham was the senior medical officer and liked to banter, but was well respected both in and out of the medical centre for his expertise and his poise in times of crisis.
Sarah looked around and noticed that the junior doctor was missing.
“Where’s Alex?”
“He said he was going to check on the excursion staff to make sure they were all up-to-date with their medicals,” said Graham. “I can’t see why he didn’t just check on the computer, but maybe he needed to stretch his legs.”
The rest of the team shared some eyebrow raising and a joint smirk. “Yes, it’s very important to stretch one’s legs,” laughed Bernard.
“What have I missed this time?” groaned Graham while draining his coffee cup.
“You’d better ask Alex. That’s none of our concern,” said Gwen, giving Bernard a warning look. “Haven’t you got somewhere to be, Bernard?”
“Yes ma’am.” He saluted and skulked out of the office.
“I’m going for lunch before taking a nap. I was up all night last night. Are you coming for lunch, Sarah?” asked Brigitte.
“Yes, anyone else?”
“I’ll take a rain check on that one, I need to write some reports,” answered Gwen.
“Me too. I’m meeting with Richard to discuss budgets – believe me, I’d much rather be with you.”
Graham met regularly with the ship’s administrator to justify current spending and put in bids for new equipment when they needed it. Sarah smiled sympathetically and followed Brigitte out of the medical centre.
Brigitte headed back to her room after lunch and Sarah wandered around the ship’s library, choosing a light-hearted chick-lit book. Afterwards she made her way to the crew pool, armed with her reading material. The pool area was relatively quiet as most of the crew were at work or catching up on sleep. There was a group of Romanian barmen she recognised throwing a floating disc to each other in the pool, splashing about happily. They waved to acknowledge her and then carried on with their game.
Sarah walked over to a quieter side of the crew area where she found Gordon standing in the shadows of an alcove, staring at the wall.
“Hello, Gordon.”
He almost leapt out of his skin before recovering himself. “Hello,” he answered glumly.
“I’m so sorry about your brother.”
“Not half as sorry as I am about my brother.” His eyes flamed as he spat the words out with such venom, Sarah automatically took a step back.
“Perhaps you’d rather be alone,” she said, hoping he would say yes. There was way too much testosterone floating round this ship for her liking.
“No, it’s okay. It might be nice to have someone to talk to. Shall we sit over there?” He pointed to a table overlooking the sea. Sarah sighed, but reluctantly followed. They sat in silence while Sarah struggled, not knowing what to say.
“Have security said any more about how he died?”
In for a penny.
“They’re not saying too much, but they reckon someone hit him over the head and threw him overboard. At first they said he might have fallen after drinking too much, but now they’re saying it’s suspicious. My parents are distraught – he’s always been the bee’s knees.” The bitterness in his tone was clearly historical. “Anyway, they’ve flown over to Copenhagen with my sister to wait for the coroner to release him.”
“I’m sure you could ask for compassionate leave, you know.”
“To do what?” he snapped. “Join my parents crooning over their beloved favourite son? No thanks, I’d rather work.” His eyes filled with tears, but the hatred emanating from them unnerved her.
“At least you’ve got Shirley on board. I’m sure she’ll help you get through this.”
He raised his voice several decibels. “OH YES, AT LEAST I’VE GOT HER!” He glared out to sea.
One of the Romanian barmen left the pool and came over. “Nurse, you alright?”
“Yes, I’m okay, thank you.”
The man didn’t leave. He stared at Gordon. “Come join us in the pool, man.”
“No, I need to get back to work.” Gordon pushed the chair back with such ferocity it fell over and stormed off.
“Sorry for interrupting, Nurse, but I didn’t want to leave you with him. He behaving weird. And between you and me, he hated brother.”
“Really? Why?”
“Not sure, but one of barmen heard them arguing. Not normal argue. He threaten to kill brother, and now look.”
“Have you spoken to the security team about this?”
“No, they never speak to us. We not important, but you always kind to us so I not leaving you with him.”
“Well, thank you, and I’ll tell the security chief what you’ve said. It might be important.”
“Okay, they know where we are if they need speak with us.”
Sarah nodded, thanking him again for coming to her rescue before she made her way to Creams to meet Rachel and Marjorie for tea.
Chapter 10
Waverley arrived at the same time as Sarah, much to Rachel’s disappointment. She had wanted to check her friend was alright after the previous night as they had not had time to talk properly when Rachel called to arrange the meet up.
“He doesn’t look too happy,” Marjorie chuckled.
“I suppose he imagines we’ve been snooping,” giggled Rachel.
“What’s so funny?” asked Sarah, who hadn’t noticed Waverley coming up behind her. She joined them at the corner table they had deliberately chosen for its privacy.
“Marjorie was just telling me something funny.” Rachel nodded, moving her eyes towards Waverley, telepathically signalling to Sarah not to ask any further questions.
Waverley hovered over the table, looking decidedly uncomfortable with a frown plastered on his face.
“Oh, do sit down, man,” ordered Marjorie, to which he obediently responded, taking the fourth chair at the table.
“Well, as long as you don’t mind me intruding on your tea. I do need to speak to you all if it’s convenient.”
Sarah appeared confused. Marjorie was in her element.
“You can speak to us all you like once we’ve ordered tea.”
Waverley coughed. “Yes, of course.”
The waiter saved him further embarrassment by appearing at the table, notebook in hand. They ordered tea and pastries. Waverley, more reluctantly than the rest of them, finally placed an order for coffee and a cookie under the watchful gaze of Marjorie.
“How was your morning?” Rachel asked Sarah.
“Busy as ever. The stag party continues to cause havoc, much to Bernard’s disgust. He’s getti
ng tired of them.”
“What have they done now?” asked Waverley.
“Nothing major – they’re just injury prone, that’s all. You know how young people are – they never look where they’re going.”
“You’re not so old yourself, dear,” said Marjorie kindly. She had heard about Sarah’s cat and sympathised when Rachel told her, being an animal lover herself.
“I feel much older when up against them. It must be nursing – we grow up fast, and there is a four year age difference, which seemingly accounts for a lot in your twenties.”
“Oh listen to Old Mother Time!” Rachel teased.
Sarah laughed. “I’m a bit of a grouch when it comes to boys behaving badly.”
“I expect they would have fewer accidents if they drank less,” remarked Waverley. “I envisage a couple of them being under house arrest before long. It doesn’t help that the cheerleaders continue to mix with them, in spite of complaining about their behaviour. What are we supposed to do? My team is stretched to the limit trying to keep them in check, and at the same time, investigate an apparent murder.”
All eyes turned to Waverley as the drinks and food were delivered to their table. Once the waiter had gone, Marjorie said what everyone was thinking.
“You’ve confirmed it was murder then?”
“Yes, either that or manslaughter. The coroner suggests from the evidence that the man was unconscious when he hit the water. The scans show no fluid in the nasal cavities, which is apparently significant. That and the witness statements we sent through to her confirm he didn’t struggle for breath. She says that the bruise to Mr Venables’s head was caused by trauma from a blunt instrument and there was a cut from whatever was used to hit him. The blow to the head caused a catastrophic haemorrhage to the brain fairly soon afterwards.”
“But you brought him round, didn’t you, Sarah?” said Rachel.
“Not me alone, the team did, but the bleed may have been a slow-burner followed by a rupture. It’s not uncommon if the blow was particularly hard or if the person had an undiagnosed aneurysm.”
“That’s what the coroner says,” said Waverley, admiring Sarah’s explanation.
“So someone did hit him. I don’t suppose it could have been a bang to the head following a fall?” asked Rachel.
“Not according to the coroner.”
“Any idea who might have hit him?”
“Any number of people are in the frame for that.” Waverley shrugged his shoulders and his drooping head and furrowed brow betrayed his worry and exasperation. “I can’t get much information out of anyone. None of the band seems to have sensible alibis for the time of death, but they insist they all got on and were good friends.”
Marjorie guffawed and Rachel laughed out loud, partly at Marjorie and partly because of the astonishment on Waverley’s face at her outburst.
“Come on, you two. You’ve obviously discovered something, so out with it,” said Sarah, looking sympathetically at Waverley.
Rachel explained about Marjorie’s subterfuge and how the ruse had caused the men to join them after their performance on the lido deck.
“Very noisy it was too,” interjected Marjorie. “Rachel says they weren’t nearly as good without their lead singer.”
Waverley stifled a tut as his impatience became visible at the interruption, but controlled himself and encouraged Rachel to continue with the story.
Once Rachel had explained how none of the band or even the manager seemed to have liked Dominic Venables and how they were all overly eager to point the finger at each other, Waverley sat back in his chair, confused.
“It doesn’t change anything, I’m no nearer to knowing who hit him,” he said.
“One of them could be lying, or maybe all of them. They seem to be doing a reverse alibi thing to make you work harder, and they probably find it amusing. I wouldn’t trust them with a dime, as my husband used to say.” Marjorie had a point. The tribute band members were the least likeable group of people Rachel had met in a long time. “And I wouldn’t rule that shifty manager out, either,” Marjorie added.
“I agree,” said Rachel. “The way he chews that gum strikes me as overly aggressive. I have a gut feeling about him.”
“Oh no, not your gut feelings!” Waverley almost smiled as he groaned. Rachel had got to the bottom of two cases of murder on her previous cruises on board the Coral Queen aided by her gut.
“There is something else,” added Rachel. “One of the group, the one called Dalton, said that Dominic Venables was having an affair with his brother Gordon’s wife. Gordon’s the new cruise director.”
“I’m well aware who Gordon is,” snapped Waverley, immediately apologising for his outburst.
“The others didn’t seem to know about the affair and scoffed at him – apparently Dalton is known for making things up or embellishing the truth, but he was pretty adamant that he saw them kissing at the side of the crew pool in the early hours before Venables was killed. He also says he bumped into Gordon heading that way afterwards.”
“Do you believe him?” asked Waverley.
“He seemed sincere. He’s much quieter than the others. He may have exaggerated the story, but I can’t see why he’d make it up. Apparently Dom was a renowned philanderer—”
“That would explain Gordon’s anger, if he did catch them out,” Sarah interrupted.
“What do you mean, Sarah?” asked Waverley, gulping back his coffee and almost choking.
“Just before I came here, I found him in the crew area by the pool. He looked distraught, so I tried to comfort him, but he soon became vehemently angry. I would say the hatred in his eyes was caused by something other than his brother’s death. It also sounded like their parents favoured Dom, and Gordon’s very bitter about that too, so it may have been a mixture of grief and anger. I’m not saying he murdered his brother, which would be awful, but he didn’t like him, and he did become enraged when I mentioned his wife.”
“I noticed that anger in his eyes when Marjorie and I saw him in the Sky View Lounge. People do react differently to the death of a loved one, though, and we can’t be certain the wife was having an affair. It might be sibling rivalry and now Gordon feels guilty because he hated his brother. But didn’t you say Gordon got the band the job in the first place?”
“That’s what I heard from Rosa Doherty. We got talking when I went to treat one of the dancers who had an ankle injury. Two of the band passed by and she muttered under her breath. I later asked her what that was all about and she told me she had made a mistake hiring them and shouldn’t have allowed Gordon to persuade her to.”
“So now we have at least five suspects, but do any of them fit the profile of a killer?” said Waverley. “Gordon has to be my chief suspect for now, judging by what you’ve just told me.”
“If he deliberately got his brother on board, it could be premeditated murder,” said Rachel thoughtfully.
“I realise you will find it difficult to stay out of this, Rachel, Lady Snellthorpe, but I would very much prefer it if you did—”
“Bah!” exclaimed Marjorie, interrupting Waverley. “Not going to happen, Chief, so we either club together, or Rachel and I find the killer for ourselves. We’ve found out a good deal of information for you so far.”
Waverley answered tight lipped. “You stay with the band, I will speak to Gordon. Sarah, I shouldn’t ask, but would you have a word with Shirley Venables? She might be more likely to open up to you as a nurse.”
Sarah nodded. “I’ll try. I can arrange a health promotion session for the dancers and quiz her. She’s also due to see me about something else – confidential, so I can’t go into it, but that might provide an opportunity. I’m sure I’ll be able to wangle it somehow, but I’m not going to ask her if she was having an affair with her brother-in-law.”
“I have no idea what my team are going to do with themselves while all these amateurs conduct enquiries,” conceded Waverley.
“I do,�
� said Sarah, nodding towards the public area outside the patisserie where a crowd of twenty youths were congregating.
“Ah, yes.” Waverley smiled for the first time that afternoon. “Our delightful stag party.”
“And the cheerleaders, of course,” said Marjorie, laughing. “Whatever they are.”
Rachel looked at her to see if she was teasing or whether she seriously had no knowledge of cheerleading. Marjorie was giving nothing away, but she winked as she sipped her tea, a pinkie in the air of course. Admiring her elderly friend’s elegance and poise, Rachel smiled affectionately.
Chapter 11
Jack Waverley came away from the meeting with Rachel, Lady Snellthorpe and Sarah grinning smugly. Let them chase the band around as much as they liked, that should keep them out of mischief, or more importantly to him, danger. He had grown fond of Rachel and Lady Snellthorpe and didn’t want either of them putting themselves at risk on board his ship. Security was his concern and Rachel had been lucky to escape with her life on two previous cruises. He didn’t believe in tempting providence too often.
He felt certain the tribute act would turn out to have cast iron alibis and agreed with Rachel: they were giving him the run-around in that respect. Despite knowing that the band argued a lot, he felt sure that underneath it all, they tolerated each other for their mutual love of music, such as it was. According to a member of the crew working in the casino, they stuck up for each other when push came to shove. They had rooms on her deck and she heard them laughing a lot in between incessant arguments. She told him these creative types often behaved like that: volatile one minute, effusive and lovey dovey the next.
He would focus on Gordon for now, although he remained to be convinced about the affair. The couple seemed happy enough, and he liked Gordon, preferring him to Matt. The previous cruise director had been an arrogant, pig-headed man who tended to upset the crew. Word got back to Waverley about these things from Brenda, his girlfriend who worked in the bakery. She didn’t miss a thing, and keeping up with the gossip helped him to keep the passengers and crew safe.
