Southampton Strangler

by Hope Callaghan

  The new PRV would eliminate the crew having to spend precious minutes unloading a lifeboat, not to mention the rescuer would be at water level, giving them a better visual of what was happening.

  Danielle and Annette caught up with Millie on her way out. “That looked like a blast,” Danielle said.

  “It was exciting. Being out there in the middle of the ocean by myself was a little spooky.” Millie couldn’t imagine what it would be like to survive going over the side of the ship, only to come to the horrifying realization it was possible that no one knew you had gone over, and you ended up being left behind.

  She’d heard of that happening, where someone was caught on camera or visually seen going over the side. By the time the vessel could stop, turn around and go back, it was nearly impossible for the rescue crew, even using large spotlights, to find the person who went overboard. It was a cruise ship’s worst nightmare—that, and fire.

  “So, what’s on your schedule for the rest of the day?” Danielle asked.

  Millie tapped the top of her scheduler app. “I have a Mix and Mingle Singles party coming up.”

  “Me too.” Danielle leaned in. “We’re co-hosting. Andy must be expecting a large crowd. How about you handle the hosting and I’ll assist?”

  “Are you sure? I know how much you enjoy hosting the mix and mingles,” Millie teased.

  Danielle curled her lip. “I think Andy gives me those because he knows how much I can’t stand them. Speaking of singles mixing and mingling, I ran into Thomas Windsor earlier today.”

  Millie remembered the brawl between a couple of women during the voyage over, how they went after each other, and Thomas got caught in the middle. “He attends those parties. I’m sure he’ll liven things up.”

  “Without a doubt.”

  They parted ways in the stairwell, with Millie hosting the Stormy Seas Sailboat contest, where participants tossed miniature sailboats into a life preserver, a fitting game after Sharky and Millie’s practice rescue. The game finished, and it was time to head to the single’s get-together.

  Several attendees were already waiting by the door when Millie arrived to unlock it. A handful of servers buzzed back and forth, setting up for the event.

  The lounge quickly filled, and she spotted Thomas off in the corner, surrounded by a group of women.

  Kate and Harry Moxey, one of the couples who were traveling with the Ponsfords and others in Clarissa Sinclair’s group, were also attending.

  “Hey.”

  Millie turned to find Danielle standing behind her. “We have quite a turnout.”

  “No kidding. It’s a full house.” Millie reached behind the counter and handed Danielle a roll of toilet paper. She briefly explained how her icebreaker game worked. “I’ll ask passengers to form groups of six. You take one side of the room while I take the other.”

  “I think I’ve heard of this game,” Danielle said. “The person has to share things about themselves based on the number of sheets they take. For example, a player who only takes one sheet only has to share one thing while someone who takes six, has to share six things about themselves.”

  “You got it.” Millie addressed the crowd and waited for them to form groups. Danielle took the right-hand side of the room while Millie headed left. She played the game with the first group and then told them they were welcome to order a complimentary drink at the bar for participating.

  Kate and Harry Moxey were part of the second group Millie joined. “Welcome to our Mix and Mingle Singles party,” she hinted.

  “Thank you,” Kate beamed. “We love these parties and meet some of the most interesting people.”

  Harry placed a light hand on his wife’s arm. “We thought we might find a few new friends interested in coming to our suite for cocktails later.”

  “I’m sure you’ll have some takers.” Millie briefly explained the game before handing the roll of toilet paper to Kate. She stayed long enough to get the “roll rolling.”

  An attendee pulled her aside, inquiring about the next singles get-together while Danielle headed to the bar to chat with a woman who was alone and looking glum.

  Millie caught Thomas’s eye and made her way over. “Are you enjoying the cruise so far?” she asked.

  “It’s wonderful. Just as delightful as the journey over to the UK.”

  “We’re trying to talk Thomas into staying in Florida for a few days after the ship docks,” one woman said. “We’ve been invited to a small party at a friend’s condo near South Beach. It should be fun.”

  “I haven’t decided yet,” Thomas said. “I’m looking forward to heading home.”

  “I, for one, am glad to have left Southampton,” the woman standing next to Millie said. “The Southampton Strangler struck the other night at a park near the port. It was a little too close for comfort if you ask me.”

  “Socialite turned reporter, Clarissa Sinclair, no less. I have a friend who is with the police force. Apparently, Clarissa contacted her boss at the news agency hours before her death, claiming she had an inside scoop on the strangler.”

  Millie’s heart skipped a beat. “Did she tell her boss what she’d found?”

  “No. Clarissa wouldn’t spill the beans. She was much too smart to give away a juicy story about the strangler.” The woman lowered her voice. “Of course, the authorities aren’t divulging that information since they’re investigating.”

  Millie’s mind whirled. What if Sinclair had stumbled upon the strangler’s identity? She shot Thomas a furtive glance. His expression mirrored her own—shock at the revelation. Or was it an act?

  Surely, the authorities were retracing Clarissa’s steps, talking to anyone she’d been with, or around, leading up to that fateful night. Prime suspects would not only be the Moxeys, but the Ponsfords and Bruce and Hilda Ellis, not to mention Thomas. How well had he known Clarissa?

  Millie, pouncing on the perfect opening, turned to Thomas. “Did you know Clarissa?”

  “In passing. She was friends of my traveling companions, an acquaintance in a roundabout way.” Thomas told them he’d stayed at a hotel down the street while Clarissa and the other couples all stayed in the same hotel. His watch chimed. “Time for dinner.” He excused himself and left Millie and the two women behind.

  “Thank you for hosting such a fun event.”

  “You’re welcome. I’m glad you enjoyed it. There will be many more during our voyage.” Millie, along with Danielle, stayed behind to help the servers clean up.

  The evening’s activities were in full swing, and Millie began making her way through her evening schedule, from helping the ship’s dancers through several outfit changes to the Piano Bar and then to the other side of the ship.

  Ocean Treasures big event—the gold-by-the-inch sale—was in full swing, and it was wall-to-wall shoppers. The crowd forced Millie to backtrack and find another route down to the comedy club, where she caught a few minutes of Donovan’s new show.

  As the evening wore on, Millie’s steps dragged. It had been a full day of non-stop activities, something she was no longer accustomed to since the British Isles had been port-intensive. It would take a few more sea days for her to get back into the groove of the added activities and events.

  Her scheduler app chimed, reminding her to pop into her last event when her radio went off. “Alpha! Alpha! Alpha!”

  Chapter 8

  Millie recognized Oscar’s voice as he barked the emergency code, followed by the location—deck—three and not far from the photo gallery, which had long since closed for the day.

  She hustled down the stairs, making it in record time. Millie bypassed the passengers’ cabins. Mere steps from the photo gallery, she found a small group of the ship’s personnel gathered around someone who was sprawled out on the floor.

  As she drew closer, Millie realized it was Hilda Ellis.

  “It’s my ankle,” Hilda winced. “I’m telling you, someone was following me.”

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Elli
s. We’ve searched the area. The person you’re describing is no longer around,” Oscar said. “Please explain again, to our ship’s head of security, exactly what happened.”

  Hilda explained that she’d decided to go up to the lido deck to grab some hot tea. “The ship is really rocking. It was making me nauseous, so I thought tea might settle my stomach before bed. That’s when I noticed I was being followed.”

  Patterson interrupted. “But you never saw anyone?”

  “No. It was just a feeling. You know, when your scalp tingles and you’re certain someone is nearby.”

  Patterson and Oscar exchanged a quick glance.

  “You don’t believe me.”

  “Please. Go on,” Patterson said.

  “I heard a muffled slam, so I hurried to the stairwell, which is when I tripped over your potted palm tree. It’s a horrid spot for a fake plant, not to mention it’s in desperate need of a good dusting.”

  “The ship’s medical staff has arrived with a wheelchair. You’ll be taken down to our center for a thorough examination.”

  “I’m sure I just twisted my ankle when I fell.” Hilda continued talking as the ship’s medical staff helped her into the wheelchair. “I’m telling you…someone was following me.”

  “I’ll add some extra patrols to this area,” Patterson promised. “In the meantime, if you’re concerned about your safety, I suggest you avoid venturing off on your own, particularly after dark and late at night. Are you traveling by yourself?”

  “I’m on board with my husband. He’s in the casino. I don’t want to bother him. It was a minor slip. Besides, he’ll be miffed if I pull him away from his poker game especially if he has a hot hand.”

  “I’ll join Mrs. Ellis in the medical center and then accompany her back to her cabin,” Millie offered.

  Patterson shifted to the side. “I would appreciate that.”

  Millie nodded to the medical staff. “I’ll be along shortly.” She waited for them to wheel the woman into the nearby elevator and for the doors to close. “A word of warning. I’ve had a few, shall we say, encounters with Mrs. Ellis. You need to handle her with a large dose of patience.”

  “What’s your take on her claim she’s being followed?” Patterson asked. “Oscar wasn’t far away and was the first on scene. He said there was no one around.”

  “I can’t vouch for whether she has a penchant for exaggerating.” Millie had another thought. “You don’t think she staged an injury to sue the cruise line for a slip and fall, do you?”

  Patterson rubbed his chin. “We’ve had our share of those. It’s hard to tell.”

  Oscar, who had remained silent, spoke. “She was very distraught and trembling when I arrived. I believe she thought someone was following her.”

  “I had better head down to medical.” Millie turned to go. “Is there any recent news about the strangler?”

  “Not yet.”

  “I spoke with a passenger earlier, whose friend is a member of the police force. According to what she was told, Clarissa contacted her boss at the news agency hours before her death, claiming she had an inside scoop on the strangler. I’ve been giving it some thought.”

  “And?” Patterson prompted.

  “A handful of our passengers traveled to Southampton on our original voyage, which makes them even greater persons of interest. The strangler picked up again, shortly after our arrival and then the last victim was murdered only steps away from where our ship docked. My guess is it’s more than a coincidence.” Millie shifted her feet. “Why wouldn’t the authorities detain these passengers, perhaps even prevent them from boarding the ship?”

  “No probable cause. Suspicion? Certainly, but you can’t hold people on a hunch,” Patterson said. “Besides, we’re keeping tabs on them the best that we can, given the fact that they’re on a ship with thousands of other passengers.”

  A troubling thought crossed Millie’s mind. “If the strangler’s victims were specific targets in the UK, then it’s possible there won’t be any further incidents. He…or she…finished what they set out to do and are now cruising back to the States.”

  Patterson gave Millie a grim smile. “The good guys don’t always get the bad guys. If what you theorize is true, then another bad guy—a serial killer at that—will be walking the streets, sipping piña coladas, living among us, possibly even right under our noses.”

  During her trek to the medical center, Millie ticked off the list of potential suspects. Certainly, everyone in Sinclair’s party had the opportunity, but what was the motive?

  Unless, as she’d heard, the woman had inadvertently stumbled upon the strangler’s identity. The strangler found out and killed her. But why dump her body near the port? Wouldn’t the killer want the body somewhere else…to lead authorities away from the ship?

  After first hearing about the Southampton Strangler, Millie had done some research and discovered serial killers possessed similar traits. They were smooth talkers with illusions of grandiosity. They got their kicks from taunting the police, a sort of cat-and-mouse game, getting thrills from the chase and staying one step ahead.

  If that were true, and the killer was on board the ship, it would be the perfect setup for “getting away” with the murder, frustrating the local authorities and cleverly believing they were untouchable in another country.

  If she really thought about it, having the strangler leaving his last victim a stone’s throw away from the port, only hours before stepping on board the ship and getting away scot-free with a recent round of killings, would fit their MO.

  She reached the medical center and stepped inside the empty waiting area. Millie could hear echoes of voices coming from the back. Hilda’s unmistakable voice was part of the mix.

  Moments later, the door separating the waiting area from the examining rooms flew open and a red-faced Hilda limped out. Doctor Gundervan and Gavin Framm, the ship’s head nurse, followed close behind.

  “I don’t need a wheelchair. I’ll take it easy but feel I can control my health better than you and your staff. Your x-ray equipment is rudimentary. I’m sure I pulled a muscle when I fell.”

  “I would like you to stop by tomorrow for another checkup,” the doctor said, “to ensure we didn’t miss anything in the first set of x-rays. Unless, of course, you’ll let me take the last few now.”

  “I’m tired of being poked and prodded,” she grumbled. “I’m exhausted. It’s past my bedtime and I’m getting cranky because I’m hungry.”

  “Very well, then. I can’t keep you here against your will.” The doctor looked relieved to see Millie. “Millie will accompany you back to your cabin. Call me tomorrow when you’re ready to come down for a follow-up visit.”

  “We’ll see about that.” Hilda sniffled loudly. “I’ll see how I feel in the morning.”

  Millie offered the woman a cautious smile as she held the door. “Have you talked to your husband? Does he know you’re down here?”

  “No. Like I said earlier, he’s in the casino and will be there until they close for the night. He doesn’t like me bothering him when he’s playing. It messes up his concentration.”

  Millie didn’t doubt that for a second. The woman was, at best, trying, and not a particularly positive force. “You said you were hungry. Would you like me to place an order for room service?”

  “No thanks. I’ve already checked out the menu. Stale club sandwiches and cold fries don’t sound appealing.” Hilda brightened. “It’s Mexican buffet night. I wouldn’t mind running up there to grab a bite to eat.”

  Millie hadn’t eaten either. Since she’d promised Patterson that she would escort the injured woman to her cabin, she offered to accompany her to the buffet.

  “Do you like Mexican food?” Hilda asked.

  “Yes, but sometimes it doesn’t like me.”

  “Me either, but I love it.” Hilda smacked her lips.

  It was a slow go, and several times Millie offered to get a wheelchair, but Hilda refused.
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  Finally, the women reached the buffet. The place was packed, but it didn’t deter Hilda. She cut to the front of the line, complaining loudly that she was injured. She placed a dinnerplate on her tray before making her way along the serving stations.

  She loaded it with one of everything…a chicken enchilada, a wet burrito, beef tostada, a shrimp quesadilla, and a trio of hard tacos. Her plate was full, but Hilda somehow managed to add a heaping mound of refried beans smack dab in the center.

  It was late, and the last thing Millie wanted to do was go to bed on a full stomach, so she fixed two crunchy tacos, light on the meat and heavy on the lettuce and tomato, before joining Hilda at a handicapped table nearby. “Can I get you a drink? Perhaps the tea you mentioned earlier?”

  “That would be nice. Bring a cup of hot water and a tea bag. I’ll fix it myself. I don’t like it too strong. It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.”

  “Of course.” Millie made her way to the beverage station. She filled a glass with ice and water before filling Hilda’s cup with hot water. She tucked a tea bag in her pocket and carried both back to their table.

  “Thank you.” Hilda winced slightly as she shifted her ample frame.

  “Is your ankle still bothering you?”

  “It’s my back now, but only when I turn a certain way.” Hilda removed the tea bag from the wrapper and dunked it in her cup. “I’m sure your bosses think I’m going to sue for my injury, but I’m not.”

  “We don’t want to see anyone injured, and I’m certain the potted palm has found a new home by now.”

  “Hopefully, they blew off some of the dust while they were at it.”

  Millie changed the subject. “I’m sorry to hear about the death of your friend, Ms. Sinclair.”

  “Clarissa?” Hilda perused her plate and then methodically began sampling a bite of everything. “We used to be a lot closer. She changed the last few years. The whole reporter thing went right to her head, not to mention she tried to fit into the socialite scene. She got a little too rich for my blood.”

  “So, you weren’t close friends.”