The South Pacific Murders

by Sylvia Massara

  “Mia, Chris,” Dobbs greeted us with a grave look on his face. “This is Dr Hamish Weinstein. He was killed with a blow to the back of the head, possibly with a putting golf club. The killer seems to have cracked open the victim’s head, which explains all the blood.”

  “How do you know who he is; where’s the murder weapon; and who found him?” I addressed Dobbs, but the captain answered instead.

  “Dr Weinstein was my late wife’s surgeon.” He looked distressed; but as far as I was concerned, he was still on my list of suspects. After all, Dr Weinstein had allegedly botched up the operation that killed Mrs Wilkins. Therefore, the captain had a strong motive.

  “We caught the whole thing on CCTV this time,” Smythe reported. “The killer flung the murder weapon into the ocean once he was done with it. It looked like a golf putter.”

  “We already viewed the footage and can confirm a putter was taken from the ship’s putting green,” Jerry Garcia added. “The body was found on a routine CCTV check carried out by one of the security guys at around 2.30am. Unfortunately, the killer wore a balaclava so we still can’t ID him.”

  “All we know is he’s still onboard,” Mark Evans interjected. “He didn’t get off in Port Vila, as we feared he might, and it looks like he still has more unfinished business.”

  I suddenly thought of Enrico Lotti and what he’d said about the convention members discussing who would be next. It made me wonder whether Enrico was trying to tell me something, or perhaps he was the killer. “You know, it would’ve been better if the killer had disappeared in Vila after all,” I remarked. “We now have four days at sea before we reach Pago Pago, and you can bet everybody on the ship’s going to wonder who’s next—especially if our friend Enrico has anything to do with it.”

  “What do you mean?” Dobbs asked.

  “He was already yapping that the convention members were speculating as to who would be next.” I then added when I noticed Dobbs’s querying look, “He told me all about it at dinner last night while he was fishing for gossip. I didn’t comment, of course; and this seemed to piss him off. In any case, you can rest assured before long the whole ship’s going to know we have a loose killer on our hands.”

  “Can’t we throw Enrico in the brig?” Chris suggested.

  Mark Evans said, “What, for gossiping?”

  “Well, at least someone should have a talk with him and tell him to keep his mouth shut,” Chris replied.

  “Chris is right,” the captain stated with a frown. “Things could get out of hand among the passengers if Mr Lotti starts talking.”

  “Dobbs and I will have a little chat with him to warn him off,” Smythe offered and looked at Jerry Garcia. “With your permission, of course.”

  Garcia nodded. “No problem, Phil. But I’ll come with you guys so I can threaten him with the brig. I want him to understand that creating panic on the ship can only be harmful. And if he’s going to indulge in gossip to flame the fires, I’ll personally lock him up and throw away the key.”

  Before Dobbs and Smythe could respond to Garcia’s comment, I drew them aside. “Didn’t you guys warn Weinstein he might be next?”

  Smythe said, “We tried to have a quiet word with him after dinner, but he was either too drunk to care or he didn’t believe us.”

  Dobbs added, “The guy was really in his cups, Mia. We even tried to broach this cheaters’ website thing you’re looking into and he ignored us.”

  “Most unfortunate,” I replied, taking one last look at the victim. He should have listened to the warning. As for giving us information about the cheaters’ site, it was now too late. “So what’s happening with the body?” I asked, addressing the rest of the group.

  “The doctor’s on his way to take the victim straight to the morgue,” the captain said and then turned to Dobbs. “We’ll need to get through to the Honolulu police on this one, Guy. The murder was committed in international waters and, though we’ll also talk to the police in Pago Pago, we should keep Honolulu up to date.”

  Dobbs agreed. “Don’t worry, Captain. If we can get through via telephone, I’ll make the report to my colleague over there.”

  “We should be able to pick up a satellite signal to make the call,” Mark Evans answered for the captain.

  “Okay.” The captain turned to Smythe and Garcia. “If you can both stick around until the body’s removed, Mark and I will go with Guy to make the call.”

  “And Chris and I will keep working on our end of the investigation,” I chimed in, not to be outdone by the men.

  We agreed to reconvene on the Bridge for a working lunch, at the suggestion of the captain, and then went on our way. Chris and I made for his cabin.

  “We need to revise everything again, Chris. So far, every victim’s connected to one or another person on this ship in terms of motive, but we still don’t seem to have a common thread among the victims.”

  “I know,” Chris replied, deep in thought. “I’m sure there’s something linking all the victims to this ‘NE’ website.”

  “If it turns out to be a website.” I sighed with frustration. “We haven’t found it yet.”

  We completed the rest of our way to Chris’s cabin in pensive silence.

  ~~~

  It was close to five in the morning when Chris and I took a break from trying to guess what “NE” stood for. We sat at the small desk in his cabin, his laptop resting between us, and sipped on our third cup of coffee.

  “If I don’t eat something soon, I’m going to be sick,” I complained, patting my stomach. “All this coffee’s playing havoc with my tummy.”

  Chris put down his cup and picked up the phone. “I’ll get room service. We need sustenance if we’re going to keep going with this. Burger okay with you?”

  I nodded tiredly. “I never thought I’d have a burger at this ungodly hour, but yes. And make sure they add plenty of fries to go with it.”

  Chris ordered the burgers, asking for extra fries, plus a couple of bottles of Pellegrino. We were both coffeed out by now.

  “Okay,” he said after he replaced the phone receiver. “As soon as we eat, we can return to our search.”

  I cast him a concerned look. “What if it means nothing? We could be barking up the wrong tree, you know. The ‘NE’ could very well turn out to be the initials for a bank or some other site that has nothing to do with the cheaters’ club.”

  “True,” Chris conceded. “Although, I doubt it.”

  “But we agreed to the possibility that NE could be van Horn’s bank or something like it. So how come you changed your opinion?”

  “Well, for starters, we don’t have any banks in Australia with the initials ‘NE’. At least, not that I know of.”

  “It could be some obscure credit union,” I suggested. “Like the Newcastle Credit Union.”

  “Then, that would make the initials NCU,” Chris returned.

  “Probably.” I tried to keep the disappointment out of my voice.

  “Don’t beat yourself over the head with this, Mia. We’ll find it. I know we will,” Chris said encouragingly.

  “You’re right, of course. Don’t mind me, I’m tired and need to sleep.”

  “Then go and have a lie down after we eat. I can keep going by myself.”

  I eyed him with determination. “No way, Chris Rourke. I want to be here when we crack this thing.”

  Chris grinned. “You’re one determined chick, you know that?”

  I nodded. “Older chick, to you,” I quipped.

  He laughed. “You’re not going to let me forget what I said earlier, are you?”

  “About my not being twenty but thirty years older than you?”

  He gave me a sheepish look for an answer.

  “Well,” I continued, “I may not be twenty years older than you, but I’m certainly not thirty. Not yet, anyway.”

  Chris did not answer. I had a feeling he valued his life too much. We therefore remained quiet, resting our eyes, until the food
arrived. Once we started to eat, we became more animated.

  “I was thinking,” I said between bites of the scrumptious burger, “about the horses with the names that referred to something medical.”

  “And?” Chris shoved a bunch of fries in his mouth.

  “And we have two options—either the website has something to do with horse betting, and this might be the common denominator with our victims. Or, some of the horse names Martha mentioned might have been used in a combination other than simply ‘N’ and ‘E’ to make up the name of the cheaters’ club site. What I mean is that there may be more names involved than just those starting with the initials N and E.”

  Chris spluttered, almost choking on his food. “Good God! Why didn’t we think of this before?”

  I shrugged and kept eating.

  “We don’t know whether the latest victim was into betting, although I’m sure I can find out easily enough,” Chris said thoughtfully. “If this is the case, what we’re looking for may well turn out to be some kind of online betting site.”

  “But if it’s a cheaters’ site instead, a combination of a few of the horses’ names,” I stated, “including ‘Neurotic Boy’ and ‘Erotic Heart’ could help us come up with the actual name of the site. I know you already tried several versions of ‘neurotic erotics’, but perhaps van Horn purposely left out something from the inscription in case someone went snooping through his things. Just a wild guess.”

  A look of excitement flashed in Chris’s eyes as he put down his burger, wiped his hands with a paper napkin, and grabbed the laptop. “Okay. Let’s look at ‘neurotic boy and erotic heart’ and combine them with some of the other horses’ names.” His fingers flew over the keyboard of his computer while I finished my burger and made a start on the fries.

  I ate in silence for a few moments while I watched the expressions change on Chris’s face. In the space of approximately ten minutes, they went from inspiration and hopeful excitement to frustration, and finally, vast disappointment.

  “Nothing’s coming up, I’m afraid,” he reported, stopping the search. “There could be hundreds of combinations if we consider all the horses’ names.”

  I sighed. “I think we should sleep on it. Perhaps, when we’ve had some rest, we’ll be able to think more clearly.”

  “I guess so.” As if on cue, Chris yawned. “I must say, I’m exhausted.”

  “Let’s touch base in the early afternoon sometime. I’m skipping the lunch on the Bridge. I’m sure Dobbs will fill us in if something important comes up.” I stood and stretched. “I’ll give you a call later.”

  ~~~

  I awoke feeling refreshed, and after a cool shower I was ready to face the afternoon. It was almost four and I was positively starving. I called Chris from my cabin phone.

  “Wh... what is it?” said a sleepy voice.

  “You obviously missed the lunch with the boys on the Bridge and are in need of more sleep,” I replied with amusement. “I keep forgetting how young people don’t have much energy after all.”

  This got the reaction I was looking for. “Hey, watch it, Ferrari,” he warned, sounding insulted.

  I laughed. “It’s good to see ‘old folks’ like me are good for something. I’ll call you later.” I hung up the phone just as he groaned in annoyance.

  Afternoon tea with Professor Tully would be just the thing, I thought as I dressed in jeans and a white and red striped T-shirt. I hadn’t seen the professor for a while and wondered how he was getting along.

  I found him at his usual table enjoying lemon tea and mini strawberry tarts. I grabbed an assortment of pastries and a coffee from the buffet before joining him.

  “My dear!” the professor greeted me with delight in his eyes. “How lovely to see you again. And I see you’re rather hungry this afternoon.” He motioned with his hand toward the plate I carried, which was almost overflowing with sweets.

  “Good afternoon, Professor.” I gave him a cheery smile. “I actually missed out on lunch. Late night, you see; and then I had to catch up with my beauty sleep.”

  He nodded while he sipped his tea. “Well, as always, you look young and full of vitality.”

  I put a hand over my heart. “Aw, you really know how to make a girl feel wonderful. Whatever happened to the gallantry of days gone by, I wonder?”

  A slight frown marred the professor’s face. “Dead and buried, unfortunately,” he answered in a rather serious tone but did not elaborate.

  I wondered whether an unpleasant memory had surfaced in his mind, but before I could follow up on this, he changed the subject altogether. “It seems there’s a serial killer on the loose.”

  Now, it was my turn to frown. “Don’t tell me Enrico’s been going around spreading rumours.” I thought by now Dobbs or Smythe would’ve warned him to keep his mouth shut.

  The professor popped a strawberry tart in his mouth and waited until he swallowed it before he replied, “No idea where the rumour came from, but people are talking, Mia. The convention members are getting worried. I heard about Dr Weinstein, by the way. Tragic!”

  I knew that sooner or later news of Weinstein’s death would have leaked out, but I hadn’t expected for it to be so quickly. Perhaps, the body had been spotted as it was being transported to the morgue this morning. “Yes, it is tragic,” I responded. It was no use denying the event had taken place. “As for a serial killer, however, I doubt it.”

  “How so? Three doctors have been murdered now.”

  “I’m not sure how the details are getting out and about, Professor; but irrespective, I don’t believe we have a serial killer.” He searched my eyes, and I further explained, “Generally, serial killers have the same MO. They kill in the same way, and some of them even take trophies. But in this instance, the victims are being killed in different ways.”

  “You mean because the first victim went overboard and the second looked like he tripped down the stairs?” The professor looked thoughtful.

  “Yes.” I didn’t want to add any other details about the murders because there was no telling how much more the talk among the convention members would escalate. “Look, I’d rather we change the subject if you don’t mind. Needless to say, the killings are being investigated.”

  I noticed the professor looked slightly put out, and I hoped I didn’t give offence. But it wasn’t my place to release any new information. I sipped my cooling coffee and remained silent, waiting for the professor to speak. He gave me a smile and said, “Of course, my dear. Please forgive an old man. I guess at my age, any kind of excitement is better than none.”

  I suddenly felt remorseful. “I’m the one who’s sorry, Professor. I didn’t mean to be abrupt. It’s just that the captain doesn’t want us to discuss the details of the investigation. As you can see, word gets around very quickly, and this can complicate matters.”

  He gave a little laugh and nodded. “I totally understand. So let’s change the subject and put unpleasant thoughts behind us.”

  We went on to chat about the professor’s days in practice and how he missed having Eden, his wife, helping him out.

  “Is this why you gave up your practice?” I asked, marvelling that love could last a lifetime for some people.

  There was a faraway look in the professor’s eyes. “Not exactly. I was already teaching part-time at university for years, but I maintained the practice a little longer, until I could wind it down. I didn’t want to abandon my long-term patients, you see. By the time Eden passed on, I was lecturing exclusively; but I miss coming home to her.”

  I gave him a kind look. “I guess after so many years of being together, you must feel desolate.”

  He turned a watery glance my way. “Yes, that’s right. But what do you do after a lifetime of memories is taken away with the death of a loved one?”

  I didn’t have an answer for this, so I finished the coffee and pastries without responding. Both the professor and I gazed out to sea, wrapped in our own thoughts of loss.
<
br />   Chapter 14

  “Ferrari!” Dobbs called while I was walking along Deck 12 on the way to my cabin after I’d finished afternoon tea with Professor Tully. “Where the heck were you and Chris at lunch? We waited for you,” he admonished as he caught up with me. We walked together past the Deck Grill and swimming pools, on our way to the inside foyer and lifts.

  “Where’s your shadow, Dobbs?” I couldn’t help the sarcasm in my voice.

  Dobbs rolled his eyes and sighed with frustration. “Okay,” he declared, putting a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sick of this! I’ve had it; and it’s about time I told you something I’ve been meaning to tell you for years.”

  It was only my surprise at his comment that kept me from pushing his hand off my shoulder while he steered me in the direction of a small internet café located near the door leading to the lifts.

  “Feel like a coffee?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Go and grab a table. I’ll join you in a moment.”

  The café was only a corner nook holding a few tables, mostly with computer monitors for those wishing to use the net. I headed to a small table at one corner of the room that did not have a monitor on it, but which provided us with a view of the ocean from a large window.

  Dobbs returned with two cappuccinos and handed me one before he took a seat opposite me. “What; no protest for being railroaded from whatever you were up to?”

  This brought a smile to my lips. “Don’t be a smartarse.”

  He laughed deeply, his belly shaking. “That’s rich coming from you, Ferrari. The attitude is probably rubbing off on me because I hang around you too much.”

  I shrugged nonchalantly. “No one’s forcing you.”

  But Dobbs saw right through me, as he always did. “Hey, I know you’re upset because I haven’t had time to hang out with you and Chris, and because Smythe’s along on this trip and you hate his guts.” I went to reply, but he shushed me and kept talking. “I can’t help the fact that my time’s been absorbed helping out with this investigation, but I’ve come to the decision to give you one bit of information I should’ve given you a long time ago—only your father didn’t want me to.”