The South Pacific Murders

by Sylvia Massara

  I became momentarily lost in his Renaissance-like appearance when he met with Chris and me in the lounge area outside The Mariners’ Hub. Enrico wore three-quarter black pantaloons with black suede boots; a white shirt with puffy sleeves unbuttoned halfway down his chest; and a brown leather vest that accentuated his athletic form by defining the slimness of his waist.

  Chris nudged me with his elbow, making painful contact with my ribs, and I snapped out of my dreamy state immediately, almost yelping. I glared at my companion for a second; then, I turned to Enrico.

  “Thank you for meeting with us, Enrico.” I gave him my best smile. “The first officer said you’re the person who might be able to help us. We’re making an inquiry on behalf of the cruise company into the disappearance of Dr Bertrand van Horn. I’m Mia Ferrari and this is my colleague, Chris Rourke.”

  Enrico’s beautiful eyes gazed at Chris with such interest that Chris went beet red while he cleared his throat and quickly shook Enrico’s extended hand. Then, Enrico turned to me; and much to my surprise, he took hold of my hand and kissed the back of it.

  “Piacere, Signorina,” he uttered in a sexy baritone. “Ma lei parla Italiano?”

  I had to force myself to remain focused and not melt over a young man who was very obviously gay—but oh, so very charming. “I’m pleased to meet you, too, Enrico. And my Italian’s rather rusty.” I felt rather than saw Chris rolling his eyes and doing everything to try not to gag at the whole situation. He knew I was taken in by the young man, gay or not.

  “Va bene,” Enrico uttered. “Very well, I mean.” He smiled, revealing brilliant white teeth. “Shall we take a seat?” He motioned for us to follow him to one of the rectangular coffee tables in the lounge area, which was flanked by two red velvet settees.

  Chris made sure he sat next to me so the beautiful Enrico would have to take a seat opposite us, on his own. A young waiter materialised out of nowhere, holding an electronic order pad.

  “Would you folks like to order?” he addressed us with an American accent.

  “I’ll have a cappuccino, thanks,” I said.

  Chris nodded to the waiter. “The same for me.”

  “Espresso, please.” Enrico ogled the waiter for a few moments; then brought his attention back to us as the waiter scurried away with a flush on his cheeks. “I can’t believe someone would harm Bert. He was such a lovely man,” he declared with a sigh and eyes that reflected the “tragedy of it all”.

  I tried to control my amusement at his melodramatic manner and managed to stop my lips from twitching into a smirk. “So tell us about your role with the medical convention.”

  Enrico sat back in the settee, crossing his legs and resting his elbow over an arm placed across his chest, with his free hand waving all over the place when it wasn’t providing a resting place for his chin. “We have around sixty doctors in total on this trip; some travelling with their spouses. They meet once a year for a medical conference, and we usually go on a cruise. I work for the events company that organises this kind of thing and I’ve been looking after the doctors for about five years now.” He leaned forward for a moment as if about to impart a secret. “They always ask for me, you know. They tell me they can’t do without my kind of services.”

  I couldn’t help but smile at his more than confident manner but managed to make it look as if I was truly impressed. “Sounds like a great responsibility for you.”

  He sat back and his hand waved around his face. “Well, you know how it is. I’m at their beck and call twenty-four seven, but I provide the services they expect, and they love it.”

  I wanted to know what kind of “services” he provided but thought it prudent not to enquire further. Instead, Chris asked, “Are all the doctors Australian?”

  Enrico regarded him as if he wanted to devour Chris, and I had to control myself once again lest I burst into laughter. “Oh, no, darling,” Enrico exclaimed. “They come from all over the world—most of them from English-speaking countries, of course. So we’re mainly talking Australia, America, Canada, and the UK. But we also have some South Africans and Indians.”

  “How come no one missed Dr van Horn last night?” I interjected before he went off on a tangent. One thing about Enrico, the guy loved to talk—mainly about himself.

  Enrico shrugged. “I don’t know. We had a dinner function until around eleven. Then, some people went to the nightclub, others to the casino, and the rest to sleep, I guess.”

  “Where did you go?”

  Enrico leaned forward again and eyed me with delight. “Are you asking me for an alibi?” He seemed thrilled.

  I shook my head. “Not exactly. I’m simply trying to get an idea of where everybody was at the time.”

  Enrico looked like he wanted to confide something, but wasn’t sure whether to trust us. I gave him a few moments to see if he would keep talking. In the meantime, the coffees arrived, which was perfect timing.

  The waiter placed our cups on the table and rushed off after I signed the bill to my room. I took my time stirring one sugar into my cup while Chris sat quietly, sipping his coffee. Enrico sighed, sat back, and rested his chin on his hand. Then, he sat forward again, as if to confide in us, but sat back once more and picked up his coffee cup.

  I threw a quick sideways glance at Chris, and he spoke in the direction of Enrico. “It looks like you want to tell us something, Enrico.”

  Enrico leaned forward again, this time gazing straight into Chris’s eyes with something like longing. “Well, I don’t normally go around talking about my personal life to all and sundry, but you seem like someone I can trust.”

  Chris blushed at Enrico’s lusty look, and I felt sorry for the guy. It wasn’t enough that I’d used him as bait during my investigation of the drag queen murders, where one of the queens took a big liking to him. Now, I was practically throwing him to the wolves, knowing Enrico obviously had a crush on him. Poor Chris. Despite my making use of him to pump information out of Enrico, he managed to handle the situation without going homophobic on me.

  “Of course you can trust me,” Chris assured Enrico in a serious tone. “Anything you say to either one of us stays between us.”

  This was all Enrico needed to hear. He picked up his coffee cup again and finished his espresso before he turned to me. “In answer to your question, my dear Mia,” he gushed, “I was engaged with a rather cute officer in my cabin... you know what I mean.” He winked naughtily and grinned.

  Chris buried his face in his cappuccino; probably trying to banish the image Enrico’s confession must have conjured up in his mind. I wasn’t as easily embarrassed. “So you weren’t out and about the ship after midnight, I take it.”

  “Not a chance, darling. I was busy till dawn,” Enrico answered, a sparkle in his eyes.

  A choking sound from Chris told me it was time to end this line of questioning. “Very well. Thank you for your time, Enrico. If you can think of anything else, please give me a call. I’m in cabin 9269.”

  “I don’t know what else I can tell you, but I’ll definitely call you if I think of anything.” Enrico stood to leave.

  “Oh, before you go,” I said. “Is it possible for you to provide us with a name list of the convention members? We’ll need to speak to them all.”

  He nodded. “Of course, bella! I’ll leave the list for you at Reception in the next hour or so. And now, I must go. Thank you for the coffee.” He then turned to Chris and winked. “Arrivederci, caro mio.”

  I laughed when Enrico walked away. Chris turned to me with a hard look. “Listen, Ferrari, whatever he said, the answer is ‘no’,” he protested. “Man, I can’t believe I always run into gay guys that flirt with me. You owe me big time!”

  I regarded him with amusement. “Calm down. All he said was ‘Bye bye, my dear’.”

  “I don’t care what he said. I’m not going to talk to that guy anymore. He spooks me.”

  “Don’t worry,” I jested, “I’ll protect you from him.”
<
br />   The look he gave me told me he doubted this very much.

  ~~~

  We spent the rest of the day talking to several members of the medical convention according to the list Enrico provided for us. It was going to take some time to get through all of them, including their spouses.

  “Dr van Horn was travelling by himself. He was a widower,” one of the doctors informed us. “I don’t know what he did after dinner last night. I went to catch the cabaret show with our group, but Dr van Horn wasn’t with us.”

  Another doctor said, “Yes, I remember Bert in the casino with us, but he left just before midnight.”

  Chris and I finished talking with about half the convention members by around four in the afternoon. We’d missed out on lunch and after learning nothing new, Chris took off to get himself a burger at the Deck Grill while I made for the buffet restaurant, where I encountered Professor Tully enjoying afternoon tea at his usual table on the stern of the ship.

  He saw me come out of the restaurant with coffee and a plate containing neatly cut finger sandwiches and a strawberry tart. He waved and motioned for me to join him.

  “Good afternoon, Professor,” I greeted him as I took a seat at his table. The professor was sipping on Earl Grey and had a couple of jam tarts on a plate waiting for him while he nibbled on the one in his hand.

  “How are you, my dear?” His smile told me he was pleased to see me again. “And how is your inquiry going?”

  I took a bite of one of the delicious finger sandwiches and swallowed before I answered. “No one seems to know what happened. We do, however, know it was a Dr van Horn who went overboard.” I didn’t see any harm in revealing the name of the victim as more than likely it would be all over the ship by now.

  “Dr Bertrand van Horn?”

  “Yes.”

  “I knew old Bert from my early days in practice,” the professor explained. “Nice enough fellow. Poor man!” He shook his head.

  “It’s quite tragic,” I commiserated, and finished my sandwich. Then, I picked up another and uttered, “What can you tell me about him?”

  The professor sipped some tea, looking thoughtful. “Nothing much, really. We were simply colleagues. You know, running into each other at functions from time to time. He was always pleasant.”

  “I didn’t know you were a practising physician. Didn’t you say you were a lecturer?”

  “I was a doctor until my late forties. Then, the university offered me a lecturing role and I took it. More time to spend with my Eden, you see.” His eyes took on a lost look, and I knew he was thinking of his loss.

  “Tell me more about Eden,” I urged. “If it’s not too painful for you, that is.”

  The professor sighed. “Every day I live without her is painful, but I don’t mind talking about her. I like to relive the good memories.”

  I waited quietly while he finished another tart.

  “I met Eden when I was still in medical school,” the professor began. “She was a dark-haired beauty—born in Argentina; land of the tango, you know.”

  “Sounds very exotic,” I commented.

  He laughed. “Yes, she was. She was a passionate girl, my beautiful Eden. I knew the moment I met her she’d be my soul mate for life.”

  The professor spoke with such conviction, I felt envious thinking of my own failed marriage and my unfulfilled wishes. “How did you meet her?”

  “At a dance given by the medical faculty in the university. She attended with a girlfriend, who was studying medicine at the time. Eden studied languages, wanting to become a translator. It was a long courtship for us, and we married after I finished my internship and opened my own practice. We needed the start-up money back then. Later, Eden worked for a large import/export company as a translator. By this time, she didn’t need to work though,” the professor clarified. “But she liked to keep busy.”

  I wondered what it was like back in those days for a woman. Eden would have been at university in the late 60s or early 70s, assuming her age was similar to the professor’s, which I still thought to be around mid-sixties to early seventies, just as I’d figured at our first meeting. Although liberated even back then, most women chose to have children over a career. Then again, I didn’t know if the professor had children.

  The professor seemed to read my mind. “Eden couldn’t have children so she settled for a career instead. As time went on, however, she tired of working for a large company and gave up her job to work for me, helping me run the practice.”

  “Well, despite the fact you weren’t blessed with children, at least you were close and stayed together all those years. It’s wonderful when love lasts for so long,” I remarked, once again thinking of my failed marriage.

  I caught a haunted look in the professor’s eyes and thought he’d become upset reminiscing about his wife; but the look was fleeting and within moments, his faded eyes became cheery. “Yes. I was lucky in my marriage,” he said, and then went on to finish his last jam tart.

  I finished my coffee and sandwiches, and noted the time. “Forgive me, Professor, but I must go.” I thought I’d catch up with Chris so we could go and pick up the key to Dr van Horn’s cabin, which Mark had promised he would arrange for us. I wanted to search the cabin before we met up with Dobbs and Smythe for dinner. We also needed to talk with the receptionist when he came on duty this evening; although I wasn’t sure what he could tell us aside from the fact he had received the phone call alerting him to the man overboard.

  ~~~

  “You search the bathroom and I’ll go through his luggage,” I instructed Chris when we entered Dr van Horn’s cabin wearing latex gloves so as not to damage evidence.

  “What exactly are we looking for?”

  “Anything that can tell us something about the victim,” I answered and started to open the drawers of a bedside table. “We’re obviously not going to learn much more about the killer unless Dobbs and Smythe come up with more footage. So we should try and find out as much as we can about the victim. This might reveal a motive for the murder.”

  “Gotcha.” Chris opened the bathroom door and went in.

  We searched quietly for approximately one hour, but found nothing of great interest. From what we observed among the victim’s belongings, we concluded Dr van Horn was an average dresser who purchased his clothing in the likes of Kmart rather than a more upmarket establishment. His toiletries told us the same thing—cheap brands of shampoo, toothpaste and aftershave. There were no medications at all to be seen and we assumed the good doctor was either extremely healthy or he simply kept them in the cabin safe.

  Mark Evans had the housekeeping supervisor unlock the cabin safe for us; and this was where we looked last. I opened the small safe while Chris waited impatiently.

  “C’mon, c’mon,” he urged.

  “What’s the hurry?” I retorted. “Here. Get your teeth into this.” I handed him a rectangular document wallet that held a passport and travel papers.

  While Chris studied the contents of the wallet in more detail, I reached into the safe for the other contents—a laptop, a camera, a wallet, and a small leather-bound notebook. I took the contents with me and sat on one side of the doctor’s bed while Chris sat on the other.

  I noticed Chris’s hungry eyes and handed the laptop to him. “You didn’t think I’d try to break into it, did you?” I remarked with a grin. “Not when I have my IT expert right here.”

  Chris snatched the laptop from my hands. “Nothing irregular in his documents,” he reported. “But the computer might reveal something different.”

  While Chris started on the laptop, I checked the digital camera to see whether there were any photos stored in its memory. There were none. Not even from before the trip. Perhaps, the good doctor had uploaded his shots to the laptop and deleted them from the camera memory. If Chris broke into the computer, we’d be able to check this out.

  Next, was the wallet. A couple of credit cards, some cash, and a drivers license. I put a
way the wallet and picked up the notebook. It was small, around 3x5 inches, and it had A-Z tabbed pages. It was an address book. I thought it rather old-fashioned of the doctor to carry an address book. These days, most people entered all their contacts into a mobile phone. Interestingly, we hadn’t found a phone amongst the victim’s belongings, but he could have been carrying one when he was thrown overboard, and now it was fish food.

  I flicked through the contacts in the notebook. They were mainly the names of colleagues, clinics, and hospitals. There seemed to be no personal contacts, unless some of these people were also friends. Every name in the book was a doctor of some sort. I sighed with frustration—so far, nothing out of the ordinary.

  “How are you going there?” I noticed Chris had managed to break into the laptop.

  “Easy,” he replied with a self-satisfied smile. “The doctor’s password was doctor, believe it or not.”

  “How original,” I remarked. “See if you can find any photos or videos, and check his browsing history. I want to know what websites he visited.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be thorough with this baby.”

  While Chris went back to checking out the contents of the laptop, I gathered the items I’d checked in order to place them back in the safe. The little notebook fell to the floor when I put back the other items. I picked it up and gave it one last flick. It was then I noticed something on the back page. It seemed some kind of written inscription. I looked at it closely and read: NE PW NE1952.

  “Chris, what do you make of this?” I took the notebook over to where he was sitting and let him read the inscription.

  He shrugged. “Could be anything, of course. But from experience, I can tell you old people usually take to writing passwords so they won’t forget them.”

  I grimaced. “Old? The guy was only sixty-one!”

  Chris grinned. “Don’t get touchy, Ferrari. You’re nowhere near that age.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m only twelve years away from it,” I frowned. “So are you going to call me ‘old’ when I get there?”