Killer Cruise

by Dawn Brookes

  “I wanted to thank you for everything you did for me the other day.”

  Sarah blushed, never comfortable being the centre of attention. “I didn’t do anything really, but I’m pleased things are working out for you. It can’t be easy.”

  An embarrassing silence hung in the air until Marjorie broke it.

  “Hello, dear. My name is Marjorie – why don’t you join us for lunch?”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose,” said Shirley.

  “You wouldn’t be imposing, please do join us,” Sarah encouraged. “I should have invited you myself. This is Lady Snellthorpe, a friend of mine and Rachel’s. Rachel you’ve already met.”

  Rachel smiled and pulled out a chair next to her, which Shirley gratefully accepted.

  “Thank you and I’m pleased to meet you, Lady Snellthorpe.”

  Marjorie scowled. “Less of the Lady here, please call me Marjorie.”

  Rachel studied Shirley while she spoke to Sarah and Marjorie, pleased with how relaxed she seemed. The worry lines that had been so evident on her forehead had disappeared and her demeanour looked generally at ease, with just the occasional frown. Her bright green eyes reflected in the light of the café window.

  Marjorie nudged Rachel’s foot under the table. “Have you decided what to eat?”

  “Sorry, I was miles away.” She concentrated on the menu, relieved by the English translation next to the Russian. “I’ll settle for a beef sandwich and tea, I’m not feeling very adventurous today.”

  The waiter took their lunch vouchers and brought their food. Sarah and Shirley chatted away like old friends.

  Marjorie looked pleased with herself. “Now about our shopping. I want to buy Russian stacking dolls – Matryoshka, I believe they are called – for my housekeeper, Mrs Ratton, and for my maid, and a fez for Johnson. Jeremy will be content with a bottle of vodka, and for that matter, so will I. How about you?”

  “A Fabergé egg and a tea towel for my mum – she collects tea towels. Matryoshka dolls for my niece, and I’m not sure what to get for Carlos. My brother will settle for vodka I’m sure and his partner will be happy with duty-free perfume.”

  “We’ll find something for Carlos, but I fear if we don’t get going, we might run out of time.”

  They said goodbye to Shirley who rejoined her group to go window shopping.

  “Let’s hit the stalls, then,” said Marjorie, taking charge. “Will you be looking for anything, Sarah?”

  “Nothing in particular, but if I spot anything, I’ll stop.”

  After they’d walked around the packed marketplace and made their purchases, time was running out for meeting back at the bus. Marjorie turned out to be a proficient haggler and managed to get everything she needed while helping Rachel with the necessary bartering. Rachel just enjoyed the vibrancy of the market. She took note of the fully armed unsmiling police, who reminded her of how lucky she was not to be armed as a policewoman in the UK. The day would likely come when police had to carry guns – there were already more armed officers than ever before as a result of acts of terrorism, but the temptation to shoot first and ask questions later bothered her a great deal. She often debated it with her colleagues, some of whom were all too eager to carry guns. She hadn’t even got to the stage of carrying a taser yet, but would be undertaking training in the near future.

  All the security guards on board the Coral Queen carried tasers and had access to arms if required, Waverley had told her during one of their many conversations. She wondered how the investigation was progressing.

  I expect the killer is one of the people on our bus, she mused uncomfortably. A member of the tribute band would be a likely suspect if suspicion moved away from Gordon.

  “Come on, Rachel, you’re dawdling.” Sarah grabbed her arm. “You need to find something for Carlos. How is he, by the way?”

  “I’m not sure. I tried ringing him last night and today, but his phone went straight over to voicemail. The last time I spoke to him, he was in Birmingham, about to break up a dog snatching racket. I’m beginning to worry. I’ve been so distracted by matters aboard the ship that I hadn’t given much thought to it, but now I’ve tried to contact him without success, it’s concerning.”

  “He’s probably in a poor signal area.”

  “Maybe, but he usually tries to contact me when he knows I’m on land with a signal. We’ve been two days here and not a word. I’ll try his office when we get back to ship.”

  “Did you hear from him in Tallinn?”

  “Just a text saying the Birmingham thing was a bit complicated and not to ring him as he was doing some undercover work in between stakeouts. I thought he was referring to that day, but perhaps he has his phone off if he’s still undercover.”

  “You know what you’re both like when you’ve got something to investigate. I’m sure he’ll be in touch today.”

  Marjorie, aware of Rachel’s worry, squeezed her arm. “All will be well. He’s sensible and will contact you as soon as he can. Now come on, dear. Let’s find him a present. That will cheer you up.”

  Rachel, trying to extinguish the myriad of scenarios playing out in her head and assuage the feelings of guilt over being too wrapped up in her own problems, followed her friends.

  Chapter 23

  Shirley Venables entered the room where Sarah had just finished evening surgery. The fearful eyes and pallid face told Sarah something was seriously wrong.

  Shirley handed her an envelope.

  “What is it?”

  The other woman remained mute, but nodded to Sarah to open it. Sarah noticed Shirley trembling as she took out a folded piece of Coral Queen headed stationery.

  DON’T THINK YOU’VE GOT AWAY WITH IT. THERE’S NO ESCAPE. WATCH YOUR BACK.

  The letters had been cobbled together using words from magazines, something like one would see in a television drama.

  “I found it under the door of my room when I got back.”

  Sarah turned over the envelope and saw it was addressed to Shirley using similar cut-out words.

  Placing it down on her desk, she said, “We need to show this to security, but I don’t want to put any further fingerprints on it.” Sarah took a pair of surgical gloves off a shelf and put them on, then slipped the paper back inside the envelope.

  She picked up the telephone and called Waverley. There was no reply from his office so she had him radioed to meet them there urgently.

  “What does it mean? Got away with what?”

  Shirley was too distraught to answer for a few moments.

  “I don’t know what it means,” she said eventually. “The tone is Gordon’s, but how could it be? He’s in the infirmary, isn’t he?”

  Sarah took her hand. “No, he was discharged this morning, but he’s still under house arrest. Let’s go find the security chief and show him the letter.”

  Sarah quickly explained the situation and where she was going to Gwen.

  “I can take the on-call bag with me.”

  “No you won’t. I’ll cover until you get back. Brigitte and Bernard are having the evening off.”

  “Thank you.” Sarah was pleased Gwen had come up trumps because she couldn’t be sure how long the matter would take. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. I’ll call you on the radio.”

  Waverley’s office was in darkness when they arrived, so they took a seat outside and waited. Sarah found distracting Shirley difficult and inwardly cursed Waverley for being so slow.

  She tried a topic that might help the woman relax. “How did you get into dancing?”

  Shirley stopped hand wringing for a moment, but continued to look down at them. Sarah noticed the wedding ring had been removed.

  “My mum loved ballet but had to give up due to health problems, so she was determined to encourage me. I took ballet lessons from the age of three, but when I went to my first musical I fell in love with show dancing. I became enthralled by the dancers’ creativity that resulted in the show saying so much more
than it would have done otherwise. I now know all about choreography, of course, but back then I was mesmerised.

  “I turned to my mum at the end of the show and told her that was the kind of dancer I wanted to be. She tried to push me to continue ballet for a while afterwards, but accepted that my heart wasn’t in it, so she supported me in taking up dance classes in a local community centre. We didn’t have a lot of money, but eventually I got a scholarship to go to a dance school in Berlin. The hardest thing was leaving my mum behind, but she wouldn’t have it any other way. She wanted me to fulfil my dreams and I did, until I met Gordon. Now everything’s ruined.”

  “It doesn’t need to be,” said Sarah gently. “It’s tough right now, but it won’t be like this forever. You have years of dancing ahead of you and you’re really good. Who’s saying you won’t end up in a West End show some day?”

  “Do you think so?”

  Wondering if she might have been a little over optimistic, Sarah was relieved to see the looming figure of Waverley heading towards them. He could clearly tell by the look on Shirley’s face something was seriously wrong so nodded curtly to Sarah before unlocking his door.

  “Come inside, ladies. Please take a seat. Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Mineral water for me, please, I’m on call,” said Sarah.

  “I’ll take water too, please. I have a show at nine.”

  Sarah doubted Shirley would be able to perform, but didn’t say anything.

  After getting drinks and placing glasses on the coffee table, Waverley sat in a comfy chair opposite the sofa they occupied.

  “Would you mind telling me what this is all about?”

  Sarah handed him a pair of men’s surgical gloves followed by the envelope.

  “It’s about this.”

  Waverley dutifully donned the gloves before taking the envelope. Sarah removed hers and stood up to wash the powder off her hands in the small WC at the back of Waverley’s office. When she returned, she could see he was studying the contents of the letter.

  “I don’t understand,” he said finally. “Why would someone threaten you? Gordon wouldn’t dare.”

  “Don’t you mean he wouldn’t be able to?” asked Sarah.

  Waverley looked uncomfortable and coughed. “Strictly speaking, he could, but he wouldn’t, I’m certain of it.”

  Both women looked confused, and then Shirley looked angry.

  “You let him go! How could you? You told me I would be safe.” Her voice rose to screech proportions.

  “He gave me his word he would not approach you in any way. Dave Hughes, the man he assaulted, said he didn’t want to press charges, said it was a misunderstanding, and I don’t have enough evidence to prove Gordon killed his brother. He’s no longer under house arrest, but he has to report to my officer, Ravanos, and tell him exactly where he’s going whenever he goes out.”

  Shirley looked terrified and Sarah was incredulous at Waverley’s stupidity in letting this potentially dangerous man go. She would speak with Waverley in private about her feelings. She took Shirley’s hand to prevent her from saying anything she might regret.

  “I assume, then, you will have him re-arrested. The letter can only be from him.”

  Waverley loosened his collar and placed the letter and envelope carefully in an evidence bag before picking up the telephone.

  “Send Ravanos to my office, pronto,” he barked.

  Poor Ravanos, he was not having an easy time of it. He might be losing his job at this rate, thought Sarah.

  Ravanos arrived after about five minutes and looked warily at Shirley.

  “You wanted to see me, sir?”

  “Where’s Venables?”

  “He’s in the crew bar with a few of the entertainment team.”

  “I need his movements since his release.”

  Ravanos took a notepad from his pocket. “He was released from house arrest at thirteen hundred. Stayed in his room until fifteen hundred when he reported he was going to the crew dining room for a snack as he hadn’t had lunch.”

  Waverley coughed impatiently at the additional details, but he had asked so he would just have to listen to a blow-by-blow account.

  Ravanos continued, “Returned to his room at seventeen hundred, went for dinner in the staff dining room at nineteen-thirty then to the crew bar where he’s been ever since.”

  “Your job now, Ravanos, is to verify those details step by step. I need times and people who can confirm seeing him. Don’t leave anything out. I don’t suppose he’s been in any of the passenger areas?”

  “No, sir. You gave strict orders that he was to remain in crew only parts of the ship, sir.”

  “Quite. Off you go then.”

  Ravanos got to the door, but Waverley called him back.

  “Ravanos, stop. First, I need you to go and find Venables and escort him here. I need to speak to him.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Waverley looked sympathetically towards Shirley. “Mrs Venables, even if your husband did send this letter, it’s pure posturing on his part. He wouldn’t dare touch you.”

  “And that’s meant to reassure me?” Shirley stared at the chief in disgust.

  “Sarah?”

  If he hoped for support from Sarah, he wasn’t going to get any.

  “Come on, Shirley. We will let the chief get on with his job. I expect he will keep a closer eye on your husband from now on,” she said caustically. Sarah knew she was sailing close to the wind being subordinate to a senior officer, but she really did wonder if Waverley wasn’t getting too long in the tooth for his job. If so, it didn’t bode well for finding the killer roaming around the ship.

  “I’ll do whatever I need to do to keep both passengers and crew safe,” he retorted. She felt his eyes boring into the back of her head as she closed the door of his office.

  “Don’t worry. He might be embarrassed, but he’ll do the right thing. He always does,” she told Shirley.

  “Thank you. Do you mind walking with me to the theatre? I need to get ready for my show, and even though he’s not supposed to be in the passenger areas, he’ll know exactly where I will be and when. He will have studied my work schedule down to the last detail. I expect he’s still been allowed to keep a copy in the room.”

  Sarah was only too pleased to be of help and walked with Shirley, handing her over to her friends when they arrived at the entertainers’ dressing room. She squeezed Shirley’s arm and kissed her on the cheek.

  “Everything will be fine. You’re safe.”

  After depositing Shirley, Sarah returned to the medical centre to find Gwen in her office.

  “Quiet as a mouse for a change,” Gwen informed her.

  Sarah explained what had gone on and Gwen too looked surprised that Gordon Venables had been allowed to roam free, albeit in the crew areas of the ship.

  “Poor Waverley,” she said. “I think he’s under pressure with the murder investigation and the constant fracas caused by our young stags. He will feel the error of his ways deeply, I fear. Thankfully, no real harm has been done.”

  “Apart from scaring the poor woman out of her wits,” said Sarah. “I don’t think Gordon Venables will be allowed out of sight of security again, though.”

  Chapter 24

  Rachel caught sight of Sarah walking hastily away from Waverley’s office as she and Marjorie turned a corner to meet with the security chief as arranged. He sat at his desk, staring into space, but when he saw them, he suddenly stood up and walked towards the door. Flustered, he coughed.

  “Oh, Rachel, Lady Snellthorpe, do come in.”

  “You were expecting us?” Rachel had a sneaking suspicion he’d forgotten all about their appointment.

  “Yes, of course. Please sit down, can I get you a drink?”

  “If you’re offering, I’ll have a small scotch,” said Marjorie.

  “Just water for me. I had wine with dinner and I’m meeting Sarah in the Jazz Bar later if she isn’t called out.”


  Waverley handed Marjorie a scotch and pulled a bottle of mineral water from the fridge. Rachel remained impressed with the facilities senior officers had in their offices, but they clearly weren’t enough to console the security chief when he had so many conundrums to solve. She wondered if whatever was on his mind had anything to do with Sarah.

  “I thought I saw Sarah in the corridor just now.”

  “Who?”

  “Sarah, with Shirley Venables.”

  Waverley coughed again, indicating to Rachel that it had been her friend’s visit that had brought about his ruffled appearance.

  “Yes, I’m sure Sarah will tell you about it later anyway as there doesn’t seem to be any confidentiality on this ship, so I might as well fill you in. Mrs Venables received a poison-pen letter – well more of a poison-print letter, actually.” His attempt at humour couldn’t conceal the concern in his voice. “The words were put together from printed matter, probably magazines. Here, take a peek, but don’t touch it.”

  He laid the letter out on the coffee table, contained in a plastic evidence bag. Rachel and Marjorie stared in horror.

  “Who would send such a thing?” asked Marjorie. “Don’t tell me her husband gave you the slip again.” As Marjorie laughed, Rachel noticed the redness rising from Waverley’s neck to his face. She shot Marjorie a warning glance to go easy.

  “As a matter of fact, I ordered his release this lunchtime on condition he kept us informed of his whereabouts, and I don’t know why people all jump to the same conclusion. Why would he send it?” Waverley’s defensiveness betrayed his guilt, and even Marjorie gave him a brief look of sympathy.

  “You no longer suspect he killed his brother then?” Rachel changed tack.

  “No, I don’t.” Waverley took a drink of water and continued, “Obviously, I can’t rule him out completely, which is why I’ve kept him aboard ship, but it seems unlikely from what he’s told me. He’s very honest about his rage at his brother, but I think he looked up to him in a way, just couldn’t stand up to him. Then that young man said he didn’t want to pursue him for assault. He even encouraged me to ‘let the poor man go’, as he put it – quite benevolent of him, I thought.”