Crime (and Lager) (A European Voyage Cozy Mystery—Book 3)

by Blake Pierce

  “I did not attack him!” she objected.

  “Well, you very nearly did,” Oberhauser said. “If I hadn’t pushed you away from him, I can’t imagine what you might have done.”

  London flashed back to the incident, wondering for a few split seconds whether there was any truth to what the security guard was saying.

  It had all started with hearing Audrey’s voice shrieking at the man who had poured beer all over her. London had stepped toward Forstmann and snapped at him, “You should be ashamed.”

  London didn’t think of herself as an aggressive person, but she remembered being very angry—even feeling that various frustrations from recent days might explode within her. But she was certain she hadn’t made any physical contact.

  Would she have gotten physically combative if Oberhauser hadn’t stepped in to separate her from Forstmann?

  She didn’t like to think so. And she didn’t think she was wrong to have defended a passenger who had been purposely sloshed with beer. Then she remembered that very same passenger had again exchanged angry words with Forstmann this evening.

  And where is Audrey right now? she wondered.

  She looked out into the crowd. While she recognized several passengers who hadn’t yet returned to the ship, Audrey herself was nowhere in sight.

  Detektiv Erlich tapped his pencil against his notebook.

  “Let’s hear your side of the story,” he said to London.

  London knew she ought to be relieved at being offered a chance to explain herself. But she’d learned from recent experience that she had to be very careful about what she said. And she wasn’t ready to tell the police that Audrey had spoken with the dead man again after that first incident.

  “It’s true that Herr Forstmann spilled beer on one of our passengers,” she said. “It’s also true that I intervened and told him to apologize. Then he spilled beer on me, and I got really angry. But I didn’t attack him. I don’t believe I even touched him.”

  “How did you happen to find the body?” Erlich asked.

  “I noticed something … it was the man’s monocle lying on a step next to the stage. I’d guessed that he’d dropped it. I went up onto the stage and saw that some beer had been splashed out of the vat. Then I climbed up onto the platform and …”

  London cringed as she continued.

  “The curtain opened and the lights came on and there was loud music—and I saw a body in the vat. I … I tried to get him out.”

  Indicating Bryce, she added, “Then my colleague, Mr. Yeaton, came up onto the platform to help me, and we dragged Herr Forstmann out of the vat. Mr. Yeaton tried to revive him until the ambulance arrived.”

  Erlich squinted curiously.

  “Can you account for your activities during the few minutes before you found the body?” he said.

  London said, “I’d been wandering among the crowd, making sure that all our passengers knew that it was time to head back to our ship before we set sail again.”

  Erlich shrugged and said, “Your story does make sense, I suppose.”

  “Of course it does,” Bryce said, bristling. “What doesn’t make sense is the idea that London had anything to do with the man’s death. When I got here, she was trying to rescue him. Why would she do that if she meant to kill him?”

  While London appreciated Bryce’s intercession, she knew that it wasn’t a very strong argument in her favor. Indeed, somebody in the nearby crowd spoke up to contradict him.

  “We all saw her when the curtain went up. She looked surprised, that’s all—as if she didn’t know the dunking was about to take place.”

  Another onlooker agreed. “She didn’t start to try to rescue him until we’d all seen her. Maybe trying to save him was just an act.”

  London was beyond shocked.

  Do they seriously think I might have killed him? she wondered.

  Bryce seemed to be starting to get really angry.

  “That’s ridiculous,” he said. Pointing to the vat, he added to Detektiv Erlich, “Your own theory is that someone hit the man on the head and hauled him up onto the stage and put him in that chair and dunked him. Do you think London looks strong enough to do all that by herself?”

  Detektiv Erlich stroked his chin and stared at London’s 5-foot-6-inch slender build.

  “Not by herself, I suppose,” he said.

  Bryce stared at him with disbelief. London herself was perplexed for a moment. Did the detective think maybe she and Bryce had committed the crime together? How could Bryce have had anything to do with it, when he’d showed up out of the crowd after London discovered the body?

  Then she realized.

  Audrey.

  After all, both London and her cranky passenger had reason to be angry with Herr Forstmann. But did anybody really believe that she and Audrey had been angry enough to kill him?

  London was hardly surprised by the detective’s next question.

  “Is the woman who he spilled beer on here right now?”

  London again scanned the crowd and called out.

  “Audrey, are you here? Detektiv Erlich needs to talk to you.”

  There was no reply, and London couldn’t see Audrey anywhere.

  “I’ll need the name of this woman,” Erlich said.

  London told him Audrey’s name and he wrote it down.

  “I also need to know how to get in touch with your captain,” Erlich said. “Your boat may not leave port until this matter is settled.”

  London told Erlich the phone number, and Erlich stepped aside to make the call.

  “Poor Captain Hays,” London said to Bryce.

  “I know,” Bryce said. “This is going to be very hard news for him. But then, nobody on the boat is going to be very happy to hear that we’re in for yet another delay in another city. Frankly, I’m not happy about it either.”

  Erlich finished the call and walked back over to London and Bryce.

  “You two may leave now,” Erlich said to them. “But of course neither the two of you nor any of your passengers or crew may leave Bamberg until we get to the bottom of what happened here.”

  Of course, London thought, holding back a sigh.

  She and Bryce wrapped themselves together in one of the blankets they’d been given, and London tugged on Sir Reggie’s leash. As the three of them started to walk back toward the ship, another worrisome matter occurred to her.

  She turned and said to Detektiv Erlich, “There’s something I need to tell you more privately. Could you walk with us for a moment?”

  “Certainly,” the detective said.

  London spoke to him cautiously as they separated themselves from the crowd.

  “Detektiv, I’ve got something … well, a bit strange to tell you.”

  “Well?” Erlich asked.

  London gulped hard.

  “This, uh, isn’t the first dead body I’ve come across during the last few days.”

  Erlich’s eyes widened as he looked at her.

  “Oho! That does come as rather a surprise.”

  London continued, “You see, one of our passengers, Lillis Klimowski, was killed in Gyor about a week ago. I found her dead in the Cathedral Basilica of the Assumption of Our Lady. Then a couple of days ago I found a dead tour guide in the House for Mozart in Salzburg.”

  Erlich nodded.

  “I heard something about what happened in Salzburg. I didn’t hear many details, except that it was a case of homicide. Was the woman’s death a homicide also?”

  “I’m afraid so,” London said.

  Erlich clucked his tongue and spoke with a note of wry understatement.

  “Well, that certainly casts an interesting new light on things.”

  “I thought I should tell you right away,” London explained. “Since your investigation will involve me and the Nachtmusik, you were sure to find out about these deaths sooner or later. And naturally, you’d be suspicious.”

  “Naturally.”

  “So I wanted to set
things straight as soon as I could and save you time and confusion. May I jot some information down for you?”

  Erlich passed her his pencil and notepad.

  London said as she wrote, “These are the names and contact information of the lead investigators in both cases. If you call them, they’ll certainly confirm that neither I nor anybody else aboard the Nachtmusik were in any way culpable for those deaths.”

  Erlich took the notepad back, looked at it, and tucked it into his pocket.

  “Yes, this should be very helpful,” he said. “I will certainly check in with these two investigators. Of course this won’t resolve any questions about your role in Herr Forstmann’s death. Meanwhile, I expect you to be ready for further questioning tomorrow. The same goes for the other woman who was with you when the beer-spilling incident took place.”

  Erlich turned and headed back toward the crime scene.

  Other straggling passengers joined London and Bryce and Reggie on their way back to the boat. London’s shoes squished with her every step, and the weight of her soaked clothes made her slouch. The situation reminded her of Gyor, when she and Bryce jumped into the Danube to rescue Sir Reggie from drowning after the dog had tackled a fleeing criminal.

  At least that episode had ended well, with Sir Reggie alive and the criminal in custody. London had no idea how this new adventure was going to end.

  Apparently offended by the smell, Sir Reggie kept a few feet of distance from them. Although London and Bryce kept huddling under the same blanket, their physical contact felt anything but romantic.

  London found it hard to believe that, just a little while ago, they had been on the verge of sharing their first kiss.

  How fast things change, she thought.

  The day had certainly taken unexpected turns.

  And London was pretty sure the worst was yet to come.

  As London, Bryce, and Sir Reggie climbed up the gangway, an anxious group of passengers awaited them in the reception area. They were greeted by a cacophony of voices.

  “Is it true what the captain just announced over the PA system?”

  “Has there been another murder?”

  “Are we not allowed to leave Bamberg?

  “Why does this keep happening to us?”

  “When are we going to set sail again?”

  London felt dizzy from the barrage of questions—and also from the stench of the beer, which now made her gag. Before she or Bryce could think of anything to say, Captain Hays came striding into the reception area.

  “No questions right now, if you please,” he demanded of the group. “Give these two good people some room to breathe.”

  The crowd dispersed somewhat, and Captain Hays looked London and Bryce over.

  “You two look rather worse for the wear,” he said. “And you don’t smell especially good either. Detektiv Erlich told me about your dunking.”

  Looking down at the dry Sir Reggie, the captain said to the dog, “At least you seem to have been spared the worst of it.”

  Then he added to Bryce and London, “Go to your rooms, get yourselves cleaned up, and try to rest. Take as long as you need to recover your wits. From what Detektiv Erlich told me, we probably won’t have to deal with the repercussions of this dreadful episode until tomorrow.”

  London and Bryce thanked him for his consideration.

  With a nod and a shrug, the captain said, “Bit of a run of bad luck we’re having, isn’t it?”

  He turned and headed up the stairs to the bridge. London and Bryce took the elevator down to the Allegro deck. Before they parted in the passageway, they stopped and looked at each other and smiled shyly.

  “I hope … sometime soon …” Bryce said, his voice trailing off.

  London’s smile broadened. She knew what he was leaving unsaid—that he hoped they’d soon pick up where they’d left off.

  “I hope so too,” she said.

  They exchanged chaste, beer-flavored kisses on the cheek and headed off to their staterooms.

  Sir Reggie hopped through the doggie door to London’s stateroom before London could open the door. Once they were both inside, the dog headed over to his water bowl and drank thirstily, as if trying to wash away the smell.

  “Consider yourself lucky, pal,” London said as she gave him some fresh dog food. “Not only are you not soaked in beer, nobody suspects you of murder. Or at least Detektiv Erlich didn’t say you were. You’d better be on your best behavior until we know for sure.”

  London stood dripping for a moment. She didn’t dare sit down anywhere for fear of soaking the bed or the furniture. She kicked off her shoes, hoping they weren’t ruined, and gathered together a bathrobe and slippers, holding them at arm’s length as she went into the bathroom.

  She didn’t bother taking off her clothes until the shower was running. She stepped into the stall and undressed under the water, hanging the clothes on the shower rail for the housekeeper to take care of tomorrow. She scrubbed herself thoroughly and took an especially long time shampooing her hair.

  The act of scrubbing her scalp seemed to stir up questions and worries.

  She found herself thinking about what Detektiv Erlich had said about whether London herself could possibly have committed the murder.

  “Not by herself, I suppose.”

  Of course he’d been considering the possibility that London and Audrey had killed him together. And given how the victim had angered them both by throwing beer on them, she couldn’t exactly blame Erlich for harboring such a suspicion.

  And now London found herself wondering something herself.

  What about Audrey?

  The last time she’d seen her, the woman had just had another altercation with Herr Forstmann. And now London felt a bit unsettled by something Audrey had said about the soon-to-be-victim.

  “I don’t think he’ll be rude to anyone from now on.”

  At the time she hadn’t known what Audrey had meant by that.

  And she still didn’t know.

  Had Audrey been hinting at something worse than a good scolding?

  Don’t be ridiculous, London told herself as she rinsed the lather out of hair.

  But was it so ridiculous?

  London couldn’t help imagining how things might have unfolded. Detektiv Erlich had suggested that the killer might have hit Herr Forstmann over the head, then hauled his unconscious body up the steps to the platform and put him in the chair and pulled the lever to dunk him.

  Could Audrey have done all that on her own?

  Audrey was a good bit bigger and taller than London, and she seemed like an exceptionally strong woman. And London knew virtually nothing about her except that she was grouchy and temperamental.

  As much as she hated to think that any of her passengers were capable of murder, she couldn’t discount the possibility. It also occurred to her that she didn’t even know whether Audrey had come back to the ship or not.

  London decided she’d better get dressed and find out if the woman was on board. She came out of the bathroom and took out a clean uniform and put it on. But before she headed out the door, her cell phone rang.

  Her heart sank as she saw that she’d received a text from none other than Jeremy Lapham, the CEO of Epoch World Cruise Lines. London was sure that Captain Hays must have notified him of the murder by now.

  His message was short and terse.

  “We must have a video chat. Now.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  London’s hands were shaking as she opened up her laptop on the table.

  “This isn’t going to be easy,” she said to Sir Reggie, who sat on the floor looking up at her with apparent concern.

  She wondered if Mr. Lapham was going to hold her responsible for turning up at the scene of too many murders. That kind of thing couldn’t be good for the tourism business.

  She took a deep breath and opened the conference program

  The CEO of Epoch World Cruise Lines appeared.

  Or at l
east part of him did.

  Although London had spoken to her boss on the phone a few times since the Nachtmusik had started its journey, this was the first video chat she’d had with him since he’d first offered her the job of social director.

  The view of him was the same as she’d had back then— just his neck and his cleft chin and a pair of thin lips. He had tilted his webcam tilted so she couldn’t see his eyes, but she again had a clear view of an extremely fluffy black and white cat that lay comfortably in the man’s lap.

  She could actually hear the sound of purring as Mr. Lapham stroked the animal with long, slender fingers.

  She still had no idea why the CEO chose to appear in this peculiar manner. If he was trying to project an aura of mystery, she had to admit he was succeeding.

  “Hello, London Rose,” he said in a soft voice not unlike the purr of his cat.

  “Hello, Mr. Lapham,” London said.

  “The captain tells me there’s been another death,” Mr. Lapham said, getting right to the point.

  “I’m afraid so, sir,” London said.

  “Another murder?”

  “It looks like it.”

  “But not another passenger, I’m told. Well, that’s a small blessing, I suppose.”

  He added with a resigned-sounding sigh, “I’m afraid this wasn’t entirely unexpected.”

  London felt a jolt of surprise.

  A possible murder—not unexpected? she wondered.

  Mr. Lapham continued, “I suppose I should have warned you that there might be more trouble ahead. But I’d kept hoping for the best. And I’m sorry to say, I may have played my own unwitting role in this unfortunate development.”

  “Uh, Mr. Lapham,” London sputtered, “how could you possibly hold yourself in any way responsible for what happened today?”

  “Let me try to explain,” Mr. Lapham said. “Like you and everybody else, I’ve been rather—what is the word I’m looking for?—gobsmacked by the events of the last few days. Two murders! They came as a complete surprise to me. It forced me into making a major decision.”

  Uh-oh, London thought. Maybe the trip is being cut short.

  The thin lips twitched slightly, but were still silent.