Killer Cruise

by Dawn Brookes

  Maybe the time had come to tie the knot again. He’d been thinking about it for months now, but hadn’t quite plucked up the courage to ask Brenda, ten years his junior – a matter which bothered him. His daughter, Charlotte, liked her and had thus far been encouraging about his new relationship. This pleased him because Charlotte remained especially close to her mother who’d left him for one of his closest friends.

  Waverley knew all about betrayal, and if Gordon was suffering, he understood exactly what he might be going through. He had never known anger like it when he’d found out he had been betrayed by two of the people he loved the most, but even in his darkest days he had never contemplated murder. Nowadays he tolerated the couple for his daughter’s sake, but they would never be friends again as long as he had breath.

  Waverley made his way towards guest services to check the cruise director’s itinerary. He could have phoned down, but needed the exercise, concerned about his recent weight gain. He tapped his abdomen subconsciously as he arrived at the desk and asked for the document he needed.

  A constant queue of people was present at the guest services desk during sea days with multiple requests and complaints, from lights not working to rooms being too hot or too cold and everything in between. The guest services staff performed their duty in the well-briefed fashion that had been drummed into them to assist with every eventuality, and they did so admirably.

  Waverley stood by one of the marble posts on deck four, observing the crowds for a few minutes while scanning the document in his hands. He had fifteen minutes before Gordon would finish hosting a couples’ quiz in the Plato Lounge. That was only one floor up so he took the stairs and stood at the rear of the lounge until proceedings concluded.

  Gordon was nowhere in sight. Geraldine, the assistant cruise director, seemed to be in full control of the event and looked as though she relished being the centre of attention, but not as much as Gordon appeared to enjoy it. Waverley would hate it. Being reserved and preferring privacy, he kept himself to himself wherever possible. It must run in the family for Gordon, he mused as he watched Geraldine finish off the session with a joke, resulting in raucous laughter from the assembled crowd of couples.

  Before he got the opportunity to ask her where he could find Gordon, his radio burst into life.

  “Yes, what is it?” Irritation came through in his voice after being halted in his tracks.

  “Sorry, sir, a fight’s broken out on the lido deck.” Ravanos sounded breathless.

  “On my way.” Frustrated, he heaved his shoulders up, sighed heavily and walked briskly towards the lifts.

  Chapter 12

  After the meeting with Waverley, Marjorie went back to her room for a shower and to change for dinner. Rachel took the opportunity to spend some time with Sarah. They walked along the upper decks, enjoying the fresh air.

  “How are you? You said you were okay, but how are you, really?”

  “Actually, I am alright. I cried myself to sleep last night, but today, work has taken my mind off things. This morning, Gwen asked what was wrong because she could see I’d been crying. She has been kind and supportive. I suppose being away from home helps – I don’t have the daily reminder of the empty cat bed or anything like that. I expect Mum will feel it more than I will for now.”

  They walked side by side, Sarah dressed in uniform with two-and-a-half gold stripes on her epaulettes signifying her officer status, and Rachel casually dressed in lime-green crop trousers and a white vest top. They stopped at the inner rail on deck fourteen, overlooking the pools on the lido deck and enjoyed a casual conversation. Out of the corner of her eye, Rachel noticed Dalton speaking quietly to a woman at the side of the stage. He stroked her arm before she headed away. Rachel felt pleased for him that he had found someone else on board other than his negative band mates.

  Sarah was looking in the opposite direction, watching children splashing in the pools when a scream drew both of them out of their reverie. Rachel spun her head away from the stage to the side of the main pool where two men were fighting, one grasping the other in a headlock. A young woman, probably early twenties, was screaming and crying for them to stop. Crowds of onlookers gathered quickly, but no sign of security.

  Rachel and Sarah raced down the stairs and pushed their way through the crowd with Sarah commanding people to stand back while radioing down for security.

  “Make way, please.”

  The onlookers at the front of the crowd reluctantly stepped aside. By now, one man was on the floor, bleeding badly from his head, while the other one continued to pummel him. Rachel thought if she didn’t act quickly, the aggressor might kill him, so she grabbed the man on the top from behind.

  “Please, sir, leave him. He’s had enough.”

  Rage spilled from the man, who she was shocked to see was Gordon. With uncontrolled anger, he struggled from Rachel’s grip, pushing her backwards, and jumped on the man again, leaving Rachel no choice. This time she was firm, arm locking him in a vice-like grip.

  A few minutes later, Waverley and two other security guards, including Jason, arrived, taking over.

  Sarah attended to the man on the ground. Calling for the on-call medic, she shouted to the waiters in the crowd.

  “Someone get me the first aid kit and water. I need clean cloths too.”

  Rachel released Gordon so that Jason could handcuff him before leading him away.

  “Get rid of these crowds,” Waverley snarled at Ravanos, the other officer, who began gently ushering people back.

  “Show’s over, folks. Those who witnessed the incident from the beginning please take a seat and we will interview you shortly.” He pointed to chairs under a canopy. “Otherwise, please clear the area. It will be open again as soon as the scene is cleared.”

  The inquisitive crowd moved slowly away, some muttering while others took seats as instructed. Many of the passengers, including those with children, had already left when the fight started.

  “How is he?” Rachel handed Sarah water, a first aid kit and towels that had been brought by pool attendants.

  “Pretty beaten up, but it looks worse than it is – faces always bleed badly. I’m not sure he would have been alright for much longer if you hadn’t intervened, though.”

  “Who is he?”

  “I’m not sure. I think he’s one of the boys from the stag party.”

  “He is.” A girl’s blubbering came from nearby. “His name’s Dave, he’ll be the best man when Aled gets married.”

  Graham and Bernard arrived with the medical kit and helped Sarah stem the bleeding from Dave’s face; he was now sitting up and mumbling to Sarah. Rachel recognised the situation was under control, so she led the girl away to one side and urged her to sit down.

  “I’m Rachel, what’s your name?”

  “Tonya, I’m with a group of cheerleaders from Massachusetts. It was awful, I thought that crazy man was going to kill him. Doesn’t he work on board?”

  Ignoring the question, Rachel asked, “Why don’t you start at the beginning and tell me what happened?”

  They heard the sound of Waverley’s cough before he appeared and introduced himself. Joining Rachel and Tonya, he handed them both a cup of tea.

  “We were sitting by the pool having a laugh, that’s all,” said Tonya. “Dave was telling me how he’d caught one of the dancers snogging an older guy from a band on board ship. We were laughing about it when this guy, I’m sure he works on the ship, pulled him out of his seat and started yelling at him. Dave swore, told him to get a life, and the man punched him full in the face. I screamed, Dave fell over, just missing the pool, and the man leapt on him like a madman. He kept punching him. I shouted and cried, asking people to help – some ran away and others just watched. I even saw a couple of guys filming it on their mobile phones – how sick is that?”

  Rachel put a hand on Tonya’s arm as she continued to sob. By now the cheerleader was shaking.

  “Did you recognise the men filmin
g? Are they still here?” asked Waverley, handing her his lily-white handkerchief.

  Tonya wiped her eyes and blew her nose, sniffing as she looked around. “That fat guy over there was one and the other one was older. He’s not here now. He had long greying hair. He might have been in the band that played earlier.”

  Waverley looked confused and Rachel digested this information. Why would Ray Lynch be filming the fight?

  The medical team were wheeling the shocked Dave away from the area.

  “Can I go with him?” Tonya asked.

  “Yes, of course, Miss,” said Waverley. “Would you just give me your full name for my records in case I need to speak with you again?”

  “Tonya Carson,” the girl shouted as she ran after the medical team.

  “Sounds like wrong place, wrong time to me,” said Waverley.

  “Obviously Gordon did know about the affair then if it was his wife they were referring to.”

  “Possibly, but it could have been any of the dancers – there are eighteen in the troupe and multitudes of older men on the ship. Gordon may have got the wrong end of the stick completely, idiot.” Waverley shook his head in disbelief. “Now he’s ruined his career, such as it was.”

  “What will happen to him?”

  “He’ll be put in the brig to cool off and then placed under house arrest. I’ll have to interview him. If he wasn’t a suspect in a murder investigation, I’d put him off in Tallinn in the morning, but as it is, I’m going to have to hang on to him as well as that rabble of a band. One of my officers will now be tied up babysitting outside his room until I get to the bottom of the murder of Dominic Venables. Gordon has just become my prime suspect, certainly has a temper from what that young lady told us. We’ll need to see if the injured guy wants to press charges as well. Either way, Gordon’s in big trouble – the cruise line will pay to compensate the young man for his silence if he agrees, and they’ll want rid of Venables. They can’t have employees attacking passengers – this is a nightmare.

  “Perhaps Gordon Venables is just as bad as his brother – I don’t know how he came to us with glowing references. I’ll be going through his security file with a fine toothcomb. The captain will speak to the powers that be and see what they are prepared to offer the boy for his silence. It’s a complete and utter mess, and for what? All because he overheard a stupid conversation between a couple of kids.”

  Rachel felt sorry for the chief of security. “I’m not sure he murdered his brother.”

  “Dare I ask why?”

  “Think about it: if you had just murdered someone, wouldn’t you want to keep your head down rather than get embroiled in a fight with one of the passengers? I accept he’s livid about his wife possibly having an affair with his brother, but the rest doesn’t add up.”

  “Killing isn’t logical, Rachel. These things do happen – perhaps he can’t rationalise at the moment. I don’t know, maybe he’s looking for someone else to kill.”

  He and Rachel looked at each other, suddenly concerned for Gordon’s wife’s welfare. Waverley picked up his radio.

  “Get me Rosa, pronto!” he yelled.

  They held their breath and waited. Waverley’s radio lit up and he answered.

  “Rosa, I need to know if Shirley Venables is with you.” His shoulders relaxed. “Thank you. No, nothing at present, I’ll talk to you later.” He turned to Rachel. “She’s in a dress rehearsal, been there most of the afternoon.”

  “Thank goodness for that,” replied Rachel.

  He stood up. “Thanks for what you did, you prevented a nasty situation becoming much more serious.” He coughed, embarrassed. “Anyway, I need to go and interview the ‘would be’ filmmaker before the footage makes its way on to YouTube or CNN. I suppose you’re coming?”

  Sarah had left with the medical team so Rachel gladly followed Waverley over to where a bariatric young man was seated, looking at the mobile held in chubby, short-fingered hands.

  “Good afternoon, sir,” said Waverley. “I’m Chief Security Officer Waverley. This is Rachel Prince who broke up the fight I believe you witnessed. I understand you have mobile phone footage of the incident?”

  “I sure do, Officer Waverley.” The man had an American drawl. “Nasty incident it was too. Your security needs tightening up if you ask me.”

  Waverley’s neck reddened. “May I see the footage?”

  The man looked unsure, holding his phone tightly in his hand. “Well, I don’t know about that. This is my personal property. I could sell this film to a news station, show them what goes on aboard your cruise ship.”

  Waverley’s neck became a deeper red and his temple veins pulsated as he tensed. “Sir, maritime law applies to what happens on board a ship, and you are in possession of evidence I need. I either confiscate the phone or you show me the footage.”

  The man sighed deeply, his bulging grey eyes darting around. Rachel noticed he had no eyebrows and looked fearful of something. He reluctantly handed the phone over to Waverley.

  “Just that video, mind,” he said as Waverley prised the phone from his tightened hand.

  Waverley looked at the screen, raised his eyebrows, scrunching up his face as he scrolled back to the beginning of the video. He held the phone so Rachel was able see. The film footage revealed why the young man was so possessive of his phone. It started with close ups of various women in bikinis before zooming in on buttocks and cleavages. Rachel frowned while Waverley looked at the man in disgust. The film swung round as a commotion occurred and showed the young guy Dave falling to the ground and Gordon going for him like a man possessed.

  When they’d finished watching the film, the man held his hand out. Waverley leaned forward.

  “Sir, I will be confiscating this phone as evidence and need your permission to copy the relevant footage.”

  “You can’t do that! I refuse, and I need that phone.”

  “In that case, I’ll show this and any other videos found on the device to the authorities when we arrive in Tallinn – where they have different laws to us – if that’s what you prefer?”

  “No, no – you can hang on to it and delete the video off the phone when you’re done, as long as that’s the last I hear of it. I haven’t broken the law.” The man was red and sweating.

  “Name?”

  “Arnold Blake.”

  “Room number?”

  “9065, sir.”

  Waverley wrote the details down. “You can come to my office on disembarkation day and collect your phone, Mr Blake. My security officers will be following you closely. I suggest you make sure the only films recorded on any device from here on in consist of scenery. If I find anything illegal on this or any other device, I will report it to the relevant authorities. Do we understand each other?”

  “Yes, sir. There’s nothing illegal. I just like to admire – you know.” His head dropped.

  “You may go.”

  Arnold Blake heaved his enormous frame from the chair with some difficulty, but Waverley offered no assistance. Once he’d gone, Waverley let rip.

  “Pervert! I’d like to put him in the brig if I thought he’d fit.”

  “Nasty piece of work, but I guess he doesn’t have much luck with women. He might have health issues and his weight has nothing to do with his behaviour.”

  “I disagree, Rachel – it has everything to do with his weight. If he wasn’t built like that, he wouldn’t need to film women, would he?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, you’re showing your prejudice. I arrest perverts at least once a month and they come in all shapes and sizes. If it were that simple, I should arrest everyone over a certain weight, according to you.”

  Waverley looked suitably rebuked. “I don’t like this sort of thing, that’s all – if he’d been skinny, I’d have probably been personal about that, too. Sorry.” He thrust the phone in his pocket. “I’d better help Ravanos interview the rest of this crowd. I’ll talk to you and Sarah later.”

  He got u
p and headed towards half a dozen passengers still waiting to be interviewed. Rachel returned to her room to change for dinner.

  Chapter 13

  At breakfast the next morning, Rachel noticed Marjorie seemed off colour.

  “Are you alright? You don’t seem yourself.”

  “To be honest, I don’t feel well. I have a migraine coming on. Do you mind if I stay on board today? Perhaps all the excitement has been a bit too much.”

  Rachel felt guilty for having allowed them to become embroiled in an investigation which strictly speaking had nothing to do with them.

  “I don’t mind at all. I’ll stay with you.”

  “No, dear, there’s really no need. I have Migraleve tablets with me, I’ll take some and go back to bed. Once they kick in, I’ll be better – it will be gone by this evening. Anyway, you’re meeting Sarah. That girl doesn’t get much time off – you must go.”

  Rachel considered it for a moment. Not wanting to disappoint Sarah but not wanting to leave Marjorie by herself if she was unwell, she was torn. However, seeing the determination in the old lady’s eyes and knowing how independent and stubborn Marjorie could be, she opted not to argue.

  “As long as I can escort you back to your room and ask Mario to check in on you while I’m out.”

  “That would be acceptable,” Marjorie conceded.

  Once she had settled Marjorie into bed, clucking like a mother hen, as her dear old friend chided, Rachel went downstairs to meet Sarah in the main atrium. While sitting at a table waiting, she watched people coming and going, preparing for their various outings. One of the luxuries of cruising was the excitement of waking up every morning in a different place or country and leaving the ship to go exploring.

  She heard arguing coming from a nearby table and noticed the tribute band members once again having a heated discussion. A few women were with them, being just as loud as the men. Rachel sighed, thinking how tiresome they were.

  They fell silent when Waverley approached. He said a few words then sat down. The conversation was now too quiet for Rachel to hear, but Waverley looked outwardly calm at least.