The South Pacific Murders

by Sylvia Massara

  He smiled charmingly at me. “Ferrari, you’ll never be old. You’re too cool.”

  Although his words had a pacifying effect, I still shivered at the fact that time was running out for me. I was well into middle age. The thought depressed me and I had to shake myself out of my low mood to keep my focus. “You were saying about passwords?” I went back to the topic at hand.

  “People who don’t have a good memory,” he amended, and I smirked at his effort to make me feel better, “usually write down passwords for things. See the letters ‘PW’?” He pointed to the inscription. “I bet they stand for the word ‘password’.”

  I regarded the inscription with interest. “So what you’re saying is ‘NE’ could stand for whatever it is he’s got the password for—meaning it could be a bank account, a website, anything. Then, ‘PW’ stands for password, and ‘NE1952’ is the actual password.”

  Chris nodded. “You got it.”

  “Hmm. It certainly makes sense. After all, if the guy was sixty-one, this is consistent with the number 1952—the year of his birth.”

  “Yes, but what does ‘NE’ stand for?”

  I tapped the side of my face with the small notebook. “That, my friend, is the sixty-four million dollar question.”

  Chapter 6

  We met Dobbs and Smythe for dinner at Horizons. Chris and I were first to arrive and requested a corner table so we could have more privacy in which to talk. When Dobbs and Smythe joined us a few minutes later, they looked absolutely exhausted.

  “Damn!” Dobbs complained. “I think I’m seeing double.”

  I grinned. “Too much looking at CCTV footage, Dobbs. What you need is—”

  “What I need,” he interjected, “is a great big steak with all the trimmings and a glass or two of red wine. I’m so hungry, I could eat a cow.”

  “How did things go?” Chris addressed Smythe while we studied our menus.

  “I think we pretty much covered all the footage, but no results other than what we uncovered at first.” He sighed tiredly and turned back to the menu in his hand.

  I threw him a quick look and noted the dullness in his eyes. I couldn’t help but think it was his just deserts for trying to take charge of the investigation. Chris and I had ended up with the best part of the deal in the end; and although I had Chris breaking into the ship’s computer to retrieve some of the footage, I soon lost interest in such a boring task. Smythe had been the one to suggest he and Dobbs watch the footage, and now I was glad of it.

  “They have a nice chicken dish with wild rice and spring vegetables,” I remarked, totally ignoring Smythe and looking at Dobbs instead. “I think I’ll go for this one.”

  The waiter arrived just at that moment and took our order.

  “I’m having The Works Burger,” Chris said.

  “I’ll have the same as Dobbs,” Smythe stated. “Rump steak, medium rare, with all the trimmings and extra fries.”

  The waiter noted down our order, including the beverages. When he left us, Smythe continued talking, rubbing the back of his neck. “After sitting in that stuffy room, watching grainy footage all day, I need all the energy I can get.”

  Now I turned to him. “Is that a complaint I hear?”

  He regarded me with what I perceived as suppressed irritation, which I didn’t appreciate. “It’s simply an observation, Ferrari.”

  Before I could open my mouth to tell him where he could shove his observation, Dobbs addressed me. “And how was your day?”

  I knew he had diverted yet another outbreak between Smythe and me; and I was silently grateful. We were here to focus on a crime and not bicker over petty differences. “So far, we know the victim was last seen at the casino, but we still need to finish talking to the rest of the convention members. We also searched the doctor’s cabin. This turned out to be a little more interesting.”

  I had their attention and told them about the notebook’s inscription and the laptop. Chris further reported, “We think the letters ‘NE’ might refer to a website of some kind. We’ll keep looking into it. As for the laptop—no photos, videos, and no documents of any kind—which is really strange.”

  “You mean like Word docs?” Smythe enquired.

  “Yes. Most people have some documents stored in their computer, but this guy had nothing. Not even a browsing history or temp files.”

  “Browsing history, temp files?” Dobbs looked puzzled. He was obviously not a ‘techie’, but rather one of those ‘old’ people Chris had referred to earlier, I thought gloomily, remembering my own age.

  Chris explained, “Browsing history is when someone surfs the net and the computer remembers what sites the person viewed. So next time they go to the same site, the computer will automatically supply the URL rather than having the person type it in all over again. The temp files are links that have been clicked on from a site that’s been browsed. But the doctor’s computer didn’t come up with any remembered URLs, and I couldn’t find any temp files either.”

  “Meaning?” Dobbs still looked perplexed.

  I replied, “Meaning he erased them or changed the computer settings to erase them every time he shut down. You can do this so no one knows what you’ve been viewing.”

  “Which tells me the good doctor must’ve been hiding something,” Chris observed.

  “Do you really think so?” Smythe regarded him with renewed interest in his tired eyes.

  The waiter arrived with our wine order and some sparkling mineral water, and we remained silent while he poured our drinks. We continued talking when he departed. “Put it this way,” Chris told Smythe, “it’s unusual for a person surfing the net to continuously erase their browsing history; meaning they have to type in the full URL again next time they want to visit a particular site. I think van Horn was doing this in order to protect himself in case someone else got access to his computer.”

  “Hmm.” Dobbs gazed at Chris thoughtfully.

  We then chitchatted until our food arrived, and we ate in silence like ravenous beasts. At that point, I didn’t think anyone wanted to focus on the investigation. We were all too tired. Dobbs and Smythe managed to finish a whole bottle of red between them and we had to order a second one so Chris and I could have a glass each. I knew the other two would be sleeping like babies tonight, but Chris and I still had to talk to the receptionist on the night shift.

  Tomorrow it would be an early start for all of us because we were docking in Noumea at 7.00am. I intended to question more convention members while Dobbs and Smythe accompanied the captain to report the incident to the local police.

  ~~~

  As soon as we arrived the following morning, Dobbs and Smythe went off with the captain and Mark Evans after a hasty breakfast. Chris and I remained behind savouring the last of our coffees.

  We were sitting out on deck near Professor Tully’s favourite spot, but I couldn’t see him anywhere and figured he’d opted for a late breakfast, or perhaps he had already gone ashore.

  “So much for the receptionist,” Chris remarked. “He couldn’t even remember whether the voice was disguised or not.”

  “It doesn’t matter. The phone call won’t tell us anything.” I drained my cup. “My suggestion is you keep working on van Horn’s computer and while you’re at it, do a background check on him.”

  Chris nodded in agreement. “What are you going to do in the meantime?”

  “I’m going to talk to more of the convention members even though it’s beginning to look like nobody saw anything. Still, you never know.”

  “So what time do you want to go ashore?”

  I stood from the table in preparation to go. “Let’s say around eleven. We’re meeting with Dobbs and Smythe for lunch at noon, by the way.”

  “Okay.” Chris finished his coffee and stood to follow me from the outdoor dining area. “I’ll see you later at Mariners’.”

  When we reached the restaurant exit we went our separate ways, and I made for the Crossroads Lounge Bar on
Deck 7. This was a large upmarket bar decked out with modern wicker chairs and sofas in cream-coloured cushioning plus square glass-topped coffee tables.

  Crossroads was the location where passengers gathered to go ashore. Here, they were issued with a colour ticket for the tenders that would take them to land. Usually, the ship docked at the actual cruise terminal in a large port such as Noumea; but today it seemed there were another two ships in port, as the captain had informed the passengers earlier, so we ended up dropping anchor offshore and having to use tenders to get the passengers to land.

  A couple of crew members sat at a trestle table busily issuing tickets while an officer called out the ticket colour whose holders would be next to board the tender going ashore. Meanwhile, passengers purchased drinks while they waited for their tickets to be called.

  I noticed a few of the convention members sitting at one corner of the room consuming a myriad of drinks with multi-coloured cocktail umbrellas. A bit early to go on the grog, I thought; but these could simply be non-alcoholic drinks.

  One of the women in the group saw me and waved. “Mia, isn’t it?” She was a middle-aged woman that looked familiar. She smiled and motioned for me to approach the group.

  There were about twenty people sitting around a couple of the coffee tables. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I forgot your name.”

  “It’s Mrs Joy Gerard,” the lady replied. “You had some questions for my husband and me yesterday.”

  “That’s right.” I returned her smile and shook her hand. “You’re with Dr Gerard, the orthopedic surgeon.”

  She nodded. “I’m glad you’re here. I want to introduce you to Mrs Martha Barry.” She waved her hand toward a lady sitting next to her and turned to address her. “Martha, this is Mia... Mia...”

  “Ferrari,” I put in. “Mia Ferrari. Pleasure to meet you, Mrs Barry.” We shook hands.

  “Please, call me Martha,” Mrs Barry invited. She was a fifty-something woman, tall and slender with ash blonde hair cut in an elegant bob. “Joy told me you’re helping out with the investigation of Dr van Horn’s death. Join us for a few minutes.” She scooted over on the sofa and made room for me. I took a seat next to her, while Joy sat on her other side.

  “We’ve been questioning the convention members in case any of them saw something,” I explained above the noise of the group, who were talking and laughing among themselves. This wasn’t the best place to speak with Martha, but if she had something to say, I certainly had the time to listen.

  Martha placed a hand on my forearm, like she was about to confide in a friend, and spoke close to my ear. “My dear, I didn’t see anything, but I wanted to tell you that Bert was a ‘funny one’, if you catch my drift.”

  I was all ears. “What do you mean by a ‘funny one’?”

  Martha grimaced and sniffed. “A bit of a sex pervert—into some of those porn sites, too, I believe.”

  I tried not to look surprised when I asked, “How do you know this?”

  Martha took a look around the group to ensure no one was listening to us. Only Joy was part of our conversation, although she had kept silent up until now. Martha and Joy exchanged a quick look, and I saw Joy nodding as if to encourage her friend to keep talking.

  “Well,” Martha continued, “this is for your ears only, Mia. My husband is soon to become my ex-husband, you see. I recently discovered he’s been cheating on me.”

  There was a look of hurt in her eyes when she said this, and I could relate to her immediately. Bloody men! “But what has this got to do with Dr van Horn?” I forced myself to focus on my line of questioning rather than think about cheating bastards.

  “I’m not sure, but I think Bert and my husband belonged to some sort of cheaters’ club.” Her voice cracked a little and she took out a tissue from her handbag and sniffed into it. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to get emotional, but if truth be told I think Bert got what he deserved. Mind you, he wasn’t married. But I blame him for encouraging other men that had wives.”

  I took a deep breath, trying to contain my growing excitement. This information could lead to the motive for the murder. “So what you’re saying is van Horn was running this club?”

  Martha shook her head. “I’m not sure about that. All I know is he and Jim, my husband, used to hang out together a lot.”

  I failed to see the connection. “But how do you know about this cheaters’ club?”

  Joy interceded, “Martha’s a little shaken up at the moment, Mia. She only just found out about Jim on the cruise. You see, she overheard him talking to a colleague the other night.”

  I noticed Martha was wiping away at teary eyes so I addressed my question to Joy. “What exactly did she hear?”

  “Jim was on the phone in their cabin just as Martha came out of the shower. He didn’t see her and kept on going with the conversation.”

  Martha blew her nose. “I’ll tell Mia, Joy,” she uttered, looking more composed. Joy nodded, giving her a supportive smile, and Martha turned to me. “Jim was talking to Dr Cliff Downes. Cliff is a colleague and golf buddy of Jim’s,” she explained. “Anyway, as I was coming out of the shower I heard him say, ‘Bert’s death doesn’t mean the end of the erotics’ club, Cliff. Bert knew how to get those lovelies all lined up and ready to open their legs and mouths for us. So I’m sure someone else in the group will take over.’” Martha’s voice trembled as she finished talking and she burst into tears.

  Joy put an arm around her and handed her a wad of tissues. “As you can see,” Joy said to me, “these bastard men belong to some kind of sex club. We’ve already informed all the wives onboard, but we’re keeping it a secret for the time being. We don’t want to alert any of the men until we find out more about this.”

  I nodded with understanding. “I’m so sorry, Martha. For what it’s worth, my ex cheated on me, too. It seems to be a huge trend these days.”

  Martha gave me a watery smile. “Thank you, Mia. I don’t know if this is helpful in your inquiry, but I thought you should know.”

  Martha had nothing else to say and I left the ladies just as their colour was called to board the tender. I looked around the room to see if there were any other convention members aside from the people in Martha and Joy’s group, but I didn’t recognise anyone. The best thing to do would be to wait until we were back out to sea before I talked to any of the others. Besides, I wanted to go in search of Chris so I could share with him what I’d just learned.

  It was when I made my way to the lifts that I was intercepted by an officer who seemed to know my name. “Mia Ferrari,” said a young Asian man.

  I looked at his name badge. “Mike Yuen, Cruise Director,” I read out aloud. “Nice to meet you.”

  We shook hands and walked away from Crossroads and out to the non-smoking side of the Promenade Deck. The passengers going onto the tenders were on the other side of the ship, making our side of the deck nice and quiet.

  “Mark Evans told me to be on the lookout for you,” Mike told me while we stood at the rail, looking out to the harbour. “He said you’ll probably need my help in identifying more of the medical convention people.”

  I nodded gratefully. “Well, Enrico Lotti, the coordinator, did a great job of lining them up for me, but every little bit helps.”

  “I noticed you were speaking with Mrs Barry and her friend just now.”

  “Yes. I’d already had a chat with the Gerards; but Joy, Mrs Gerard, wanted me to meet Martha Barry.”

  “And you still have a few more convention members to talk to?”

  “A few. But I decided to wait until we’re on our way again. Right now, everyone’s going ashore. Perhaps you can help me track down the rest of them this evening?”

  “It’ll be my pleasure,” Mike responded with a smile. “In the meantime, what are your plans for the rest of the day?”

  “I’ll be going ashore soon with a friend.”

  “Well, I’ve been asked to invite your group to the captain’s table tonight
for dinner. Eight o’clock.”

  “That’s wonderful, thank you,” I remarked with pleasure. “Captain Wilkins seems a lovely man.”

  Mike frowned momentarily. “Yes, he is, considering.”

  “Considering what?”

  “The poor man lost his wife a few years ago in an operation gone wrong, and now he’s left with a young daughter to look after. Of course, she’s away at boarding school seeing as her father travels so much.”

  “Oh! I’m so sorry to hear that.” How tragic it must be to lose a loved one in a medical procedure simply because someone made a mistake. I wanted to ask more about what had happened to Mrs Wilkins, but Mike changed the subject.

  “After the dinner, we have an excellent acrobatic show on the top deck.”

  The way he said this, with such longing in his eyes, made me remark, “Don’t tell me you’re an ex-acrobat.”

  Mike sighed despondently and nodded. “Am I that transparent?” He gave me a sad smile. “I used to be an acrobat, mainly working on cruise ships and Cirque du Soleil. But my career was unfortunately cut short. Then, through my contacts, I made a new career for myself as a cruise director.”

  “If you don’t mind my asking, what happened?”

  “I suffered a hip injury during one of my performances and had an operation as recommended by my doctor at the time. Unfortunately, this put an end to my career. Then, a short while later, I found out that I could’ve had physical therapy rather than an operation. If I’d done this, I would still be doing what I love most.” For a moment, a shadow crossed his face. “These doctors are sometimes trigger-happy and think surgery’s the answer to everything.”

  “But this is so sad,” I commiserated with him. “I guess life throws these challenges at us and we have no option but to look on the bright side.”

  A smile came back to Mike’s face, chasing away the earlier shadowy look. “You’re right, of course. I love my job on the ship, and I get to meet many interesting people.” He glanced at his watch. “But don’t let me keep you. Noumea awaits you. I’ll see you tonight with your friends, in any case.” He bid me farewell and went on his way.