by Dawn Brookes
“Good – we can’t have passengers put in danger – no matter how useful they might be.”
The pressure had mounted – Waverley needed to solve the murder of Erik Marinov and find out what had happened to Jefgeny Popov, but his main priority was to protect the rest of the passengers and crew. He had been just about to fall asleep when his radio sparked into life, informing him of the attack on Rachel Prince. He couldn’t believe it.
He returned to his room only too aware that this lovely young woman had almost been killed on his watch. Waverley was not a man prone to self-doubt, but even he wondered if he might be losing his edge. He looked again at his tired reflection in the mirror. This shouldn’t be happening to him.
After shaving, he changed into his day uniform and marched into the main security station. As he entered, Ravanos and Brody stood to attention.
“It’s okay, boys, be seated. Is our man securely locked away?”
“Yes, sir,” answered Ravanos.
“Anything else to report overnight?”
“Not really,” said Brody. “A rowdy group in the disco, but they didn’t give us any trouble when we suggested they call it a night. One elderly man reported his watch stolen, but has just phoned to say he found it in his dress suit. We’ve got no further with the supposed jewellery theft.”
Brody looked sceptical. Waverley knew about the case – a middle-aged passenger called Mrs Munro appeared to be the constant victim of jewellery thefts over several cruises.
“We’ll leave that one to the insurance company, but keep up the pretence of looking for the missing jewellery.”
“Sorry we had to wake you, sir,” said Ravanos. “We knew you’d want to be informed of such a severe attack on Miss Prince.”
“That’s why I’m here. I need you to pull up security footage from the main atrium: timeline 2.30 to 3.30pm yesterday. Miss Prince says the man may have been someone who bumped into her deliberately and stole her room key card.”
They carried out the laborious task of scrolling through video footage from different cameras, but it eventually yielded results.
“Stop there! That’s Miss Prince. Scroll through slowly,” Waverley instructed.
“There, sir.” Brody pointed to a man bumping into her.
“Okay, scroll back and play it slowly. Yes, that looks deliberate. There, watch his left hand as he helps her pick up things with his right.”
Sure enough, they saw him pick up the key card and slip it into his pocket before excusing himself and walking away.
“We only have a rear view – he’s heading towards the shops. Pull the video from that area.”
Eventually they found what they were looking for and identified Ray Tansley as the man who had bumped into Rachel.
“Gotcha,” said Waverley happily. “Make copies of these so we can hand them over to the police in New York, and to the British police. The time has come for me to interview Mr Ray Tansley.”
Waverley marched off with a spring in his step. Maybe his luck was changing.
Waverley arrived at the brig where the prisoner was being held and asked the officer on guard to bring the man to a small room nearby for questioning. Tansley came into the room wearing handcuffs and stared hard at Waverley. Thirty years old, the ship record had stated.
Waverley summed up the man in front of him. Six foot tall, rotund with cold eyes and tattoos lining muscular arms, he had a few bruises to his face and arms and a gash to the back of his head. Dr Romano had glued the gash together. A tough looking hooligan, Waverley concluded.
“What am I doing here? You’ve no right to lock me up. I’m the one that’s been attacked by a loony woman. After inviting me up to her room, she turned demented.”
“Really, and why would this woman attack you, Mr Tansley?”
“She obviously got cold feet. One minute, she gave me the come-on, the next minute she behaved like I was trying to rape her. You know what girls like that are like.”
Tansley leered. Waverley gripped the pen in his hand, resisting the urge to punch the low-life in front of him. He had dealt with men like this all his life and found himself becoming less tolerant as he got older. He was pleased to see Rachel had inflicted some damage, and that alone consoled him. He marvelled at her resilience and the skill she must possess to disarm a man this size, punching well above her weight.
“I assume the knife in her room belonged to her, then?”
“Well, it’s not mine, is it? What’s more, I want to press charges against her.”
“Please take a seat, Mr Tansley.”
“My friends call me Ray.” Tansley smirked.
I’d like to wipe that grin off your face. Waverley felt rage, but remained the picture of self-control as he spoke.
“Let me tell you where we’re at, Mr Tansley. You are under arrest for the attack and attempted murder of a passenger on board this ship.”
Tansley protested, but Waverley continued.
“We’ve recovered the knife as evidence, and as Ms Prince did not touch it, we are certain the only fingerprints to be found on it will be yours.”
“So I carry a knife, but that’s not enough to charge me. You can only charge me with carrying an offensive weapon.”
“You appear to know the law, Mr Tansley. However, we also have CCTV footage of you deliberately bumping into Ms Prince yesterday and stealing her room key. With her testimony and your motive, I can assure you that you will be charged. We know you’re the brother of someone she testified against and who later threatened her.
“Trust me, Mr Tansley, you will remain locked away in our padded cell for the next few days. After that, you will be handed over to the authorities in New York and will be locked away there. You are likely to be deported back to the United Kingdom for charges there. Either way, you will not be allowed any freedom on board this ship or on US soil. Personally, I hope they lock you up and throw away the key. Goodbye, Mr Tansley, I trust you will have a pleasant sailing aboard the Coral Queen.”
Tansley shouted and cursed while being escorted back to the brig. Waverley walked away, punching the air, pleased with life.
Now, back to the Popov case.
Chapter 29
Hammering on the door roused Rachel from a deep sleep. After dragging herself up from the sofa and answering, she was greeted by two security guards.
“Sorry to disturb you, ma’am. We can come back later if you prefer?”
“No, now will be fine. Just give me five minutes and I’ll leave you to it.” Rachel rinsed the sleep out of her eyes and brushed her hair through before grabbing her handbag and leaving. She waved good morning to Mario, who was coming out of Asimov’s room, drawing a concerned look as he shook his head in disbelief and blew her a kiss. She smiled weakly and headed upstairs.
The buffet was buzzing with people enjoying their holidays and filling up with as much food as they could eat before going about their recreational activities. Rachel felt envious, having had a stark reminder of the dangers of her day job.
Why, oh why did I get myself involved in another investigation? What’s worse, I forgot about my night-time sortie in the depths of the ship when I spoke to Waverley this morning. Not that it would have been a good time to broach the subject. Now he won’t let me have anything to do with the Jefgeny case, I’ve no idea how to keep Sarah out of it.
Her head hurt and her muscles ached.
After wandering around the buffet for about ten minutes, she finally filled a bowl with fresh fruit. The endless buffet options were too much for her today and the choice overwhelmed her.
She found a quiet place to sit. The welcome sound of her Jamaican friend singing as he pushed a trolley laden with hot drinks reminded her that all was normal.
“Good morning to my favourite lady. What can I get you this morning?”
“Strong coffee, please.”
He poured the drink and moved along, not noticing, or choosing not to notice, the scratches to her neck. She had pulled on a p
olo shirt earlier and wore the collar up, but the marks had still been visible when she’d checked in the mirror. Her arms ached from the exertion of pinning Tansley’s arm behind his back for so long – it had taken all her strength, powered by the will to live, to hold him in a vice-like grip, and her biceps were shouting about it.
Before she got up to leave, Thomas rushed over to her, his face filled with concern. He embraced her.
“I heard what happened last night. I’m so sorry – did he hurt you? Oh, your neck! Is that a bruise on your face?”
Rachel had to smile at how the words tumbled out of his mouth. He looked worried as he took a seat opposite.
“Thomas, calm down – I’m alright. Look, I’ll tell you what’s been going on, but you must promise not to tell anyone else – especially not any of the Russian tour party.”
“I promise,” he said, adding a cross my heart motion for good measure.
“Drinks?” Rachel’s Jamaican friend returned with the trolley.
“More coffee for me, please,” said Rachel.
“Tea with two sugars,” said Thomas.
Once Rachel was satisfied that nobody else in the vicinity was in earshot or listening, she started.
“The man who attacked me last night is the brother of someone I got put away for murder. I work in Leeds as a policewoman and I witnessed a stabbing. After the trial, I received a threatening letter, and last night was an attempt at vengeance. The man would have thrown me overboard if I hadn’t managed to turn things around. I didn’t tell Asimov or Lucretia the full story because there’s something else going on, and it might involve one of your tour party. I don’t want them to know I’m a policewoman.”
Thomas was a good listener and Rachel found it cathartic, talking to someone about the Tansley incident and his brother turning up last night.
“Well, you’re a dark horse, I must say. I had you down as a model or a film star,” he said, winking. “Are you going to tell me about the other thing then?”
“Perhaps later. I need to see the doctor so he can write a report of my injuries to go with the knife and other evidence from the attack last night.”
Thomas’s eyes widened. “Knife? OMG, Rachel!”
“I know, it was super scary, but at least he’s locked up now.”
“Good job – I’d like to get my hands on him even though I’m a pacifist. Where is he?”
“In the brig.”
“Oh, I didn’t think about that. I guess they must have a lock-up on board a ship this size.”
“You’d be surprised what they’ve got on board this ship, Thomas,” she teased as she got up. “I’ll catch you later.”
As soon as Rachel arrived at the medical centre, Sarah came rushing out.
“They told me what happened. Oh Rachel, I’m so relieved you’re safe.”
They hugged each other as Dr Bentley came out of his surgery.
“Why don’t you both come in while I examine Rachel – if you don’t mind, Rachel?”
“I’d love to have Sarah with me. Thank you.”
They followed Dr Bentley into surgery, and after offering his condolences and support, he took a full history of the events of the night before. He examined Rachel, writing notes and using a tape measure to measure the size of the scratches and bruises. Dr Bentley then took several photos after asking Rachel’s permission and uploaded them on to his computer.
He asked her if there had been any attempt at sexual assault. She assured him that her attacker had only had one goal, and that was to kill her in revenge for putting his brother behind bars.
“That’s all I need from an evidence perspective. I’m sorry someone has attacked you on board a Queen Cruise again, though.”
“This man would have attacked me wherever – he obviously supposed a cruise ship to be an ideal place for murder. I’m just pleased he didn’t stab me first, but I guess it would have been too messy.”
“Rachel, don’t – it makes me shudder at the thought of how much danger you were in,” pleaded Sarah.
“Sorry, but it’s over and he’s behind bars.”
“Not quite bars on a ship, but we get the gist.” Dr Bentley turned away from his computer and Rachel sensed he wanted to say something else. She looked at him. “While you’re both here – I know it might not be a good time, Rachel, but I need to get something off my chest.”
“What is it, Graham?” asked Sarah.
“It’s this Marinov and Popov business – I’m sure you’ve not let it go, Rachel, which is why I want to go over some things that are bothering me.”
Rachel looked sheepish. “What things?”
“The injection, for a start – we are so strict about drugs and crew members undergo regular screening. Neither had any history of drug abuse, so if Marinov’s death involved Popov – where did he get a syringe, needle and the wherewithal to kill his friend? Killing in this way would be premeditated, which doesn’t fit in with a heat of the moment kind of killing.”
Dr Bentley seemed relieved to get his thoughts out in the open, and Rachel couldn’t have agreed more. “We’ve both had doubts, and you have just confirmed what we’ve been thinking: that Jefgeny did not kill Erik Marinov. We also suspect he’s hiding on board the ship and that his girlfriend, Eva Sipka, is helping him.”
“What makes you think that, and if he is innocent, why doesn’t he just come forward?”
Rachel didn’t want to mention what they had discovered last night because she didn’t want to get Sarah into trouble. She was not good at lying and so she didn’t speak for a while.
“Rachel spoke to his girlfriend, and she gave away little titbits of information that suggested Jefgeny is still alive,” said Sarah.
“We need to tell Waverley.”
“Already done,” said Rachel. “He is having her watched and will pull her in before we get to New York if they don’t find him by then.”
“I still don’t understand why he’s hiding.”
“Perhaps he doesn’t trust the authorities, or maybe he has some other reason,” offered Rachel. Keeping information from this kind and distinguished man didn’t sit comfortably, but protecting Sarah’s job came first. Sarah was also looking guilty, so Rachel took a different tack. “If you don’t suspect Jefgeny – do you have another theory?”
“Not really – it would need to be someone who has access to syringes and needles and medication that can kill. There might be an illicit drugs racket on board, and if Erik found out about it, someone might have killed him to keep him quiet.”
Rachel had to admit there was logic in the theory. “I hadn’t thought of that, but that would explain the suddenness of the murder and the attempt at subterfuge. Perhaps Jefgeny knows about it too and that’s why he’s hiding. You said security carry regular tests out on crew?”
“They do, but if it’s smuggling rather than drug taking, that’s more complicated. We’ve got good security, but there are ways for the ultra-determined to get things on board a ship this size. I’ll talk to Waverley and see if we can get some sniffer dogs on board when we call in at New York. In the meantime, I suggest you have a relaxing day at sea, Rachel.”
“That’s a great idea on both counts,” said Sarah, pleased.
“Yes, agreed,” said Rachel.
Dr Bentley was almost joyful having talked the matter through, as if someone had lifted a great weight from his shoulders.
Chapter 30
There was work to be done – first on her list was Thomas. Rachel pulled the dog-eared Russian itinerary from her handbag and studied it to determine the best place to track him down. After running a finger through the list of activities, she spotted a talk being hosted by one of the guest speakers entitled Russian Art – influences past and present. Thomas’s initials were next to the session. The talk started at 11am so she had time to return to her room to see if there was an internet signal, her near-miss last night still preying on her mind.
Rachel felt much calmer having received
an email from Carlos and was ready to continue her investigation. She hadn’t mentioned the early morning encounter with Ray Tansley because she didn’t want him stressing out about her. His email had been chipper and mentioned he’d resolved his recent issue and was now working a different case. She wished someone would solve her complex case – maybe it was a drug smuggling racket as Dr Bentley suggested. In that case, she would not need to tell Waverley about her excursion below the waterline last night.
Rachel arrived early at the Plato lounge near to the Queen Art Gallery on deck six and took a seat. One of the crew was demonstrating the operation of a handheld remote to the guest speaker who carried out a few sound and visual checks. She heard Asimov’s voice as he entered the room with around twenty of the group. Lucretia was with him and she walked over to Rachel.
“How are you?”
“I’m much better now that man’s locked away. Thank you for your help last night, I’m sorry I disturbed you.”
“That was not a problem. I am light sleeper and Vladimir was happy to help damsel in distress. His bite is worse than his bark.”
Rachel smiled at the misquote but appreciated the sentiment.
“Lulu,” Asimov was calling for Lucretia to take her seat beside him.
“I’d better go. He doesn’t like art, he is more technical man, but I love, so he comes with me.”
Lucretia joined Asimov and he nodded to Rachel, not giving much away, but at least it was an acknowledgement. Rachel saw Boris in the group along with the tall grey-haired man called Sergei.
Thomas arrived armed with the clipboard and ticked off his list of attendees before spotting Rachel. As soon as he did, he joined her.
“My day has just got better.” He flirted for effect in front of his Russian audience. Rachel smiled, and then he put on a brief act of seeing her scratches for the first time before whispering, “I’m free after this session if you want to talk.”
“Yes, that would be fine. I have something to show you,” she whispered back.