“Every time you think you know the Danube, you find something new about it,” Lueger said. “It can seem docile, but can be dangerous around the next bend. There’s a lot of traffic along it and those who sail it regularly have learned to appreciate how deceiving it can be. I’ve been sailing the Danube for almost 15 years and I never take it for granted.”
If the Danube could be deceiving, so were some people aboard this ship, Burke thought.
He turned to Hoshiko Kimura and, once again using English since it was the most common language on board, asked if she knew why the Danube had been selected for the team-building exercise. It was a question he knew he should have asked days before, but he hadn’t. He’d been too preoccupied with trying to be a good tour guide.
“I can’t actually say with authority why it was selected,” she replied in her precise English. “I know that every year when this type of exercise takes place that it goes to a different continent. Last year, the session was in the United States, in Florida as I recall.”
Burke asked if this was her first team-building exercise with the company.
“Yes, it is,” she said. “In fact, it’s the first time for several of us. I think the only ones who’ve done the team-building exercise before are Dietrich Beck, Gert Vanderkamp, Roger Langford, Kendall Young and,” she paused, clearly feeling uncomfortable, “Bennett Blake.”
“Do you know if they were all in Florida?”
“I don’t know. Besides finding the time to take the course, you have to pay half the cost of the trip which can be a significant amount. We may be executives within the organization, but it is not an inexpensive trip for any of us.”
“None of the people on this trip were in Florida last year,” interjected Carmen Moreau. “But Messieurs Beck, Langford and Blake were on the trip two years ago when it was held in Queensland in Australia.”
“Were you part of that one?” Burke asked Moreau.
“I was. It was my first year with the company and I was fortunate to be selected to go along.”
Burke nodded, wondering how much Moreau had observed during that tour. “I know you work hard during these trips, but did you get enough time to yourself to enjoy Australia?”
“I did. Australia is beautiful although it takes a long time to get anywhere. And it has a lot of deadly snakes. I saw two by the roadside one day.”
“Did they get close to you?” Hélène asked.
Burke, who disliked the creatures, knew his partner was deathly afraid of snakes and yet, at the same time, was always fascinated to hear a snake story.
“They were maybe five metres away when Monsieur Langford took a long stick and calmly pushed them away like he was some kind of reptile expert. He said the two snakes, which had to be at least two metres long, were taipans – very, very deadly. He had spent time growing up in a rural area of Queensland, near someplace called Townsville as I recall, and had learned how to handle such snakes.”
“You were lucky then to have someone nearby who knew how to react,” said Burke, wondering if he was getting closer to some useful information. At the same time, he noticed the others at the table were turning their attention elsewhere.
“I was very grateful. Those snakes were scary. I remember thanking him so profusely that Monsieur Blake said I was wasting my attentions on Monsieur Langford. I didn’t like the remark, but I kept quiet. I was new in the job and didn’t want to get into trouble by criticizing a client. As for Monsieur Langford, he seemed very annoyed at the comment.”
“Did Monsieur Langford say anything?”
“No, he just stared at Monsieur Blake but Monsieur Blake didn’t seem to care.”
“Was Monsieur Beck there when you encountered the snakes?”
“He was,” said Moreau, looking around to see if anyone else was listening. Besides Burke, only Hélène was paying attention and that seemed to satisfy Moreau. In a softer voice, she picked up her narrative. “I don’t think he liked Monsieur Blake’s remark anymore than Monsieur Langford did and started to say something, but Monsieur Blake told him, please pardon my language, to fuck off.”
“What happened then?”
“Nothing, really. Monsieur Blake thought his remark to Monsieur Beck was a joke so he laughed and walked away. I don’t think Monsieur Beck thought it was funny at all because he looked quite upset, but he didn’t do anything. And that was it.”
Burke let that information digest for a few moments and then turned to Kimura and asked in a casual way if Blake had been given official influence over Beck and Langford within Worldwide Events Consulting Inc.
Kimura didn’t immediately answer. She studied Burke for several seconds and then waved a hand. “Essentially, everyone involved in the team-building exercise is at the same level. If people are not at the same level, it would be much more difficult to get positive results from the exercise. People would be afraid of displeasing a superior.”
“It sounds like Blake, Beck and Langford might have known each other before the Australian trip.”
“It is possible. They may have worked together on some project which often happens, especially with the big, international events. They may have even encountered each other in the same office because our senior people are sometimes transferred from one country to another to broaden their experience and knowledge.”
“Did you know them before this Danube trip?”
“Only Dietrich Beck. We Skyped each other as part of our involvement in a couple of projects. That was it. As for the others on the trip, I never met them or talked to them before we started the tour.”
“But you know them now,” Burke said, hoping she could provide an opinion about their personalities.
“No better than you, Mr. Burke. They keep to themselves or to their little group and do not mix with the rest of us when we are not cycling.”
“What little group?” said Burke, figuring he knew the answer.
“You must have observed how Langford, Beck, Kendall Young and Gert Vanderkamp tend to spend more time in each other’s company.”
Burke noticed she had dropped the formality of an honorific when mentioning Langford, Beck and Blake. “I have. Do you know why?
“I do not. I hear them sometimes discussing wine, but I doubt that is enough to make them want to talk with each other so much.”
“Do you like them?” Burke felt it might be one question too many, but he was curious to know what this intelligent, perceptive woman thought.
She paused and again stared at Burke. After a couple of seconds and with another wave of the hand, she resumed talking. “We are all senior people within Worldwide Events which means I do not need to like them, but I must be able to get along with them. Are they people I would go to dinner with on my free time? No. They talk to each other in a way that is foreign to me. If I am going to go to dinner with any of the team-building people, I would go with the others in the group, especially Eric Chapman, Ingrid Froon and Niklaus Gast. They are good conversationalists who like to hear what others have to say. Rather like you, Mr. Burke.”
Burke could see she knew what he was doing with all his questions. And she was fine with helping him solve his puzzle.
Now that Burke had her evaluations of all the people he was interested in, he was eager to ask one question of Carmen Moreau.
But that wasn’t the time.
Chapter 48
When dinner was over and the servers were clearing the buffet tables, Thierry Delisle took to the microphone and announced how the following day’s trip to Tulln would end with a concert at the Donaubühne, a spectacular open-air stage on the banks of the river.
“It’s a stunning venue that has attracted such famous entertainers as Van Morrison, Joe Cocker, Status Quo and the Japanese Drummers to name a few. Our cabaret evening will be even larger and more impressive than originally planned, and you’ll have a chance to see world-class musicians and wonderful singers. I hope you take the opportunity t
o attend an event you won’t forget.”
There was applause although the concert really wasn’t a secret. It had been on the tour schedule from the start, but Delisle was selling it as bigger now although Burke wasn’t sure what his boss could have done in the last two days to make it better. It didn’t matter, though. Burke knew the group could use distractions in the aftermath of the deaths of Wilson Talbot and Bennett Blake, and Delisle was doing his best to promote one.
Then with a nod toward a ship’s crew member who was at a table with a computer linked to the ship’s sound system, Delisle said it was time for music and dancing.
Burke wondered if anyone would take to the dance floor.
He had his answer in seconds as couples and youngsters rushed onto the floor eager to dance to Beyoncé’s high-energy Crazy in Love. Burke, never a fan of dancing, didn’t have much choice when Hélène grabbed his hand and dragged him onto the floor. When the crew member followed that with Deee-Lite’s Groove is in the Heart and then the Pretenders’ I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles), there was hardly a person sitting. It didn’t matter the tunes were in English; everyone knew them.
When the ship DJ slowed matters down with the Louis Armstrong classic What a Wonderful World, Burke scanned the room and saw Carmen Moreau sitting in a small group, checking something on her ever-present tablet.
The timing was right.
He told Hélène he needed to follow up with Moreau on something the young woman had said earlier.
“All right, but if you dance with her, you better not enjoy it,” Hélène said with a smile.
Burke knew the song was short and so he needed to get Moreau up on the floor quickly. The next tune after the Armstrong one would likely be quick and not conducive to talking. He could wait till later, but he wanted to talk to her as soon as possible; he had all kinds of thoughts twisting in his brain and he needed to put some order to them.
He walked quickly to Moreau’s table.
“If you folks will allow me, I would like to dance with my colleague before the evening gets too wild,” said Burke trying to sound gallant while holding out his hand to Carmen Moreau.
The young woman looked surprised but accepted the offer.
Moments later, they were dancing slowly on a corner of the floor. Burke, who loved Louis Armstrong, figured he had another two minutes before the song ended. “It was interesting to hear about your encounter in Australia with the snakes and how Langford dealt with it,” he began.
“I’ll never forget those things. They were blue-black with enormous heads and these terrible eyes. Very scary.”
Burke felt her shudder in his arms. “Bennett Blake’s comment to Langford was certainly odd,” he said. “It makes you wonder if Langford isn’t attracted to pretty women – and I don’t mean to sound like I’m hitting on you.”
“He’s married, you know.”
“Langford never tried anything with you, did he?” said Burke, noticing that Langford was dancing a few metres away with his wife, an attractive brunette who was on the edge of a weight issue.
Burke could see Moreau examining his face, trying to figure out the purpose behind his questions. Then she gave in and answered: “Never and neither did any of the others that you talked about ̶ Beck, Young and Vanderkamp. They kept their distance except to ask the odd question about the trip. I know it sounds egotistical and vain, but I do get men trying to get familiar with me and so I was a little surprised they didn’t try to flirt. They were just polite, nothing more. I felt safe around them.”
Burke had no doubts about Carmen Moreau attracting potential suitors. She was pretty indeed.
“The only time I’ve really been hit on during any tour was by a Scotsman who was on that Australian trip and who got very flirtatious after he had too much whiskey one night. I shut him down quickly. I have a boyfriend who’s made me happy for years and, besides, if I flirt with anyone in a tour group, I can lose my job.”
Louis Armstrong’s unique voice drifted off and a techno-pop tune took over. Burke thanked Moreau and they returned to their tables.
Hélène looked at Burke, her face asking if he had been successful. He nodded.
“Anyone want a drink?” he asked.
They did and Burke said he’d be back with their beverages in a couple of minutes. As he walked to the bar, he checked the dance floor once more.
Langford, Beck, Vanderkamp and Young were all on the floor dancing with their partners. They looked like they were having a good time.
Sort of.
Chapter 49
Burke jerked up in bed in Hélène‘s hotel room at 5 a.m., awakened by a thought that had worked on his subconscious during the night.
None of the inner circle that seemed to include Beck, Langford, Young and Vanderkamp was behind the murder of Bennett Blake. They were hiding something, but they were too careless in how they conducted themselves. He had noticed their informal meetings and so had Renata Hable and Hoshiko Kimura. The person who had murdered Blake had done the deed like a ghost, leaving no trail of evidence or any suspicion. The murderer was not just smart, meticulous and arrogant, but attentive and alert. A formidable individual.
Who fit that description?
Burke was aware the team-building participants were all high achievers, the type driven to excel through intelligence, talent and dedication. They were careful, detail-oriented people or they wouldn’t be where they were in the company hierarchy. But some were obviously more careful than others. And one person might be more careful than everyone else.
But then Burke wondered if his list of potential suspects was too short. Maybe the person who murdered Bennett Blake was someone else on the ship, an individual with the same set of skills and intelligence but just not one of the team-building participants.
As he lay on the bed, tossing around faces and past scenes, the cabin began to brighten from the early morning sun shining through the open window. Burke looked at Hélène sleeping peacefully beside him. His heart gave a thump as he watched her. She had made him a different man – and a better one.
He also knew he was a different man in another way.
For most of his adult life, he had followed a schedule laid out for him by his pro cycling teams. He had rarely had to think for himself, both on and off the bike. However, it hadn’t been an entirely easy existence; the travel had often been punishing and the racing had proven exhausting and sometimes dangerous. After he had retired and without anyone directing his life, he had drifted into a lazy, boozy existence that hadn’t taxed a single brain cell. But the last three years had been different, reaching a point where his mind was rarely inactive and where his curiosity knew few limits. Whatever had jumpstarted his brain, it had changed Burke. He doubted he’d ever have a desire to return to his previous lazy life.
And then as Hélène rolled onto her other side, Burke felt himself drawn back to Bennett Blake’s murder and recalled how several of the Sunna’s passengers had immediately considered a Roma or an immigrant could be behind the killing.
Once more, that struck Burke as odd.
The people on the tour were smart and well-educated. At least all the ones he had met were. So, why would they jump so easily to the conclusion that a Roma or a refugee had killed Blake? Burke pondered that puzzle for a few minutes and then wondered if someone hadn’t initiated that kind of response. The Roma had long been considered sneaky, lazy and even dangerous. As for the refugees, they were fleeing horrific conditions in their homelands, but an unknown few might be considered to harbour thoughts of murder and terrorism. So, with a nudge, some of the Sunna’s passengers had defaulted to their prejudices against the Roma and immigrants, and considered one of them as Bennett Blake’s killer.
But who had pushed them in that direction?
Burke tried to recall the first time anyone had suggested the Roma or the refugees could be behind Blake’s murder. It was early, maybe as soon as someone had announced the Englishman’s dea
th.
Then he had a brainwave about who could help identify the individual who had manipulated the prejudices of others.
Chapter 50
A half hour later and newly awakened, Hélène lay in bed and listened to Burke’s plan. When he was finished, she said nothing.
Burke waited for her to comment.
After a minute of silence, she shook her head. “If the person who murdered Bennett Blake is as clever as you say and is among the passengers on board the ship, aren’t you putting yourself at risk by trying to find out who it is?”
“I’m going to be cautious. If I figure anything out, I’ll definitely tell the police. Besides, I’m only planning to do a couple of little things that hardly anyone will know about.”
“But for what purpose? The police have told you to stay out of their investigation. Anything you do from now on is just going to make them angry and maybe get you arrested. They’re having enough troubles trying to find out who murdered Blake without you getting in the way.”
“I don’t intend to get in their way.”
“That’s what you say, chéri, but I know you. Once you start down this path, you never stop until you know where it ends. You’re relentless – and that isn’t always a good thing.”
Burke frowned, but he knew he sometimes got under the skin of the police. “They won’t even know what I’m doing.”
Hélène shook her head again and Burke could see her exasperation. “They’re not stupid, Paul. They might be having trouble tracking down the murderer, but they’ll soon figure out what you’re up to. It’s just not a good idea.”
Burke kept quiet. Hélène had made some valid points. And it was true that the police would be more than annoyed if they discovered he was checking into Blake’s death. At least Christian Martin would be angry. He wasn’t so sure about Karl Plaschke. The younger officer wasn’t a by-the-book flic. He was bright and intuitive.
“I’m still not comfortable with what you’re doing, Paul,” added Hélène in a quiet voice, sitting up and holding the white sheet to her bare shoulders. “The flics might not find out what you’re up to, but what happens if the murderer does? Have you thought about that? He’s murdered one person. If he figures you’re getting too close to him, you could be in real danger.”
Deception On the Danube Page 16