Death at the Voyager Hotel

by Kwei Quartey

  “I always do. There’s one thing I’m unhappy about, however.”

  “Oh, dear! What’s that, sir?”

  “The very last day I’m here is the day Edward fills the pool back up.”

  As Jost and Selina laughed, Paula realized he was only making a complaint in jest.

  “No, truly,” Selina said, “I’m sorry for the inconvenience to you of the pool closure, but as you know, after the tragedy, we’re trying to minimize the chance that it could ever happen again.”

  “But of course,” he said. “I absolutely understand.”

  “Thank you, sir. Isn’t it so sad?” she said, her voice softening. “Such a beautiful young woman. Did you meet her father by any chance?”

  “No, I didn’t, although I would have liked to have given him my condolences.”

  “He was here yesterday to speak with Edward. He looked devastated.”

  “It must be very hard for him,” Jost said. “Different types of tragedies have struck the two women in his life that he loves the most. His wife is bedridden, suffering terribly from severe multiple sclerosis, and now his daughter Heather has been taken from him.”

  “My goodness. How awful.”

  They moved on to chatting about Jost’s children, Selina asking whether he would bring them along on his next visit to Ghana. But Paula’s mind was back at Jost’s comment on Peterson’s wife and her suffering. How had he known about that? Mr. Peterson had remarked to Paula that with the exception of those she felt close to, Heather never talked about the psychologically painful subject of her mother and her illness. Jost had told Paula when she had first met him that Heather didn’t confide in him about anything troubling her “deep down.” So why would she have shared details with him about her mother when that was such a difficult topic to discuss? Was Jost hiding something about his relationship with Heather, and if so, why?

  Paula’s thoughts travelled from one point to another like billiard balls bouncing randomly off the sides of the table, and at the end of it all she looked down at the solar pamphlets in her hand and realized how stupid she had been all along not to see the connection.

  She looked down the hallway leading to the bedrooms. She was sure Jost’s conversation with Selina wouldn’t last much longer, but she had to take this chance now because she would never get it again.

  She moved quickly down the hall. The first door was the bathroom, the second was one of the two bedrooms. She went in and switched the light on. A stylish, fawn-colored suitcase on the bed was almost fully packed, but the top was open. She was about to go through the contents when she spotted Jost’s laptop on the desk connected by a USB cable to a Nikon single reflex camera. Forget the suitcase, she thought, quickly crossing the space between the bed and the desk.

  The laptop was the same MacBook Paula used, so she was quite familiar with it. She swiped her finger across the touchpad and the screen woke from sleep mode directly into iPhoto. It was obvious Jost had been downloading images of the beautiful scenery he had captured at Cape Three Points from the Nikon to his Mac.

  Paula scrolled through the alphabetized picture albums on the left-hand side, clicking on one called HP. Not Hewlett Packard, but Heather Peterson. The photos were dated from earliest to latest. Scores of action images of Heather’s freestyle, breast, back and butterfly strokes. Some posed pictures were included as well, rather similar to the one Jost had texted Paula—a smiling Heather looking vivacious and pretty in the swimming pool.

  But then the nature of the photographs changed abruptly, and Paula’s blood ran cold. She was looking at several night shots of Heather floating face down in the water in her tangerine swimsuit. Dead?

  There was a video. Paula’s breath trembled as she clicked on it. The undulations of the pool’s surface looked like moving crescents of black and white. Slowly and steadily, Heather, her white skin lit up against the dark, liquid tomb around her, drifted naked to the bottom of the pool.

  Paula let out a stifled cry and took a step back, nearly jumping out of her skin as she bumped against someone behind her.

  “What are you doing in here?” Jost said. He sounded both horrified and furious.

  She tried to turn, but could not. With quick, overpowering strength, he had her in a chokehold.

  “I beg you, don’t scream, Paula,” he pleaded. “I don’t want to hurt you. Please.”

  She stayed still, rigid, and mute.

  “We’re going to the bed together,” he instructed, his voice shaking. “I’ll be right behind you to guide you. When you get to the night table, open the drawer. You will see a roll of duct tape, which you will remove and hand to me.”

  He was breathing heavily as they went in tandem to the bedside and she did as he had instructed.

  “Lie face down on the bed with your arms by your sides,” he said.

  As she lay flat next to his suitcase, he removed his grip on her throat, but the pressure of his knee in her back compressed her chest and prevented her from moving or taking a good breath for a scream. She heard the harsh crackle of the tape as he pulled off a length. He wrapped it around her mouth several times. She felt a sudden panic that she might suffocate, and she struggled for a moment until she found herself quickly exhausted.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, sounding as if he was about to cry. “I really like you, Paula, but now that you know I drowned Heather, I just can’t let you go.”

  He brought her wrists behind her back and bound them.

  “Is it too tight?” he asked her.

  She nodded vigorously, trying to say yes through the gag.

  He hesitated. “Okay, I can loosen it a little bit, but not too much.”

  After doing that, he wrapped her knees and ankles.

  He got off the bed and began to pace at the foot of the bed. Paula swiveled her eyes to watch him. Muttering to himself in Dutch, he stopped several times and ran his hand through his hair, appearing nerve-wracked and uncertain what to do with her.

  “Godverdomme,” he swore, standing in front of her. “Why did you have to get into all this pointless detective stuff, Paula? Why couldn’t you just leave things the way they were? I mean, you’re very clever, but what you’ve done is the height of stupidity. Mijn God, just look at the mess we’re in now. ”

  He cursed again and paced several times more before pulling up a chair in front of her. He sighed in exasperation and stared at her for a moment.

  “Okay, look,” he said finally, “I need you to be relaxed and peaceful.” He jumped up. “I don’t want you struggling.”

  She looked up at him, eyebrows raised, pleading with her eyes. What was he planning to do with her? If only she could speak, she might be able to reason with him. He went out of her sight to his desk behind her, and she heard him open one of the drawers. For a moment there was silence, and then he came back and got onto the bed.

  “I’m going to give you a heavy dose of diazepam,” he said. “It will make you sleep. I sometimes use it myself in small amounts to relieve muscle spasm after a long swimming session.”

  He pulled down her waistband, exposing the upper portion of her right buttock. “Here it comes.”

  She flinched as he stabbed her and injected the stinging medicine.

  “It will simply be easier for both of us,” he said. “I don’t want you to fight me. You’re bigger than Heather—more powerful, too. I simply have no choice, Paula. I have to drown you too.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  It was almost 10 p.m. Gale had texted Paula but not heard back from her. Now her phone rang and she thought for a moment it was her boss calling back, but it was Thelo asking if she knew where Paula was. He’d been calling and texting her to no avail.

  “I tried to reach her myself earlier on,” Gale said. “I assumed the text didn’t get through or she just hadn’t seen it.”

  “Did she tell you she was going to see the Dutch guy at the Voyager?” Thelo asked.

  “Jost? Yes, she wanted to ask him if he knew whether Edw
ard and Heather were having a relationship.”

  “What?” Thelo said, his tone alarmed. “She didn’t tell me that. She said she was going to talk to him about solar power installations.”

  Solar power. Gale went rigid. Jost Miedema had installed solar lights at the hotel swimming pool. He knew how to turn them on and turn them off.

  “Thelo,” she said urgently. “I think Paula might be in trouble. I’ll go to the Voyager right now, and meanwhile is there someone at CID you can call and have them get over there as quickly as possible?”

  “Will do, and I’ll see if Paula’s sister can come over and watch the kids. I’ll meet you at the Voyager as soon as possible.”

  In the darkness of the sitting room, Jost watched from the window as the night security guard made the second of his routine rounds at the rear of the hotel, swinging his flashlight back and forth. Ever since Heather’s death, Edward had put an extra guard on duty overnight and mandated that he must patrol the back of the hotel every hour. This one dutifully went to the pool, where the lights were on, looked around and left, making one more sweep of his flashlight before returning to the lobby.

  Jost moved quickly, exiting his chalet and running around the back of the other two.

  He approached the pool from its rear side and went to the control station, where he switched off the inverter. The lights went out and he ran back to his chalet in darkness.

  In preparation, he had sat Paula up in a chair in the sitting room.

  “It’s time,” he told her quietly, slipping off his clothes and leaving on only his swimming briefs.

  Still in a drugged state, she moaned softly and her head lolled forward as she dozed. He slipped his arms around her upper torso, interlaced his fingers behind her upper back and smoothly pulled her up against him as he stood up, a technique he had learned as a young nursing aide temp. He lowered himself so that she flopped forward over his left shoulder and then he stood up straight. Holding her legs fast, he left the chalet again, once more circling around as quickly as he could to the swimming pool. In the darkness he gently lowered Paula onto the pool deck, unbinding her wrists, ankles and finally, her mouth. He saw the whites of her eyes as they fluttered open. She murmured something unintelligible.

  “I’m really sorry, Paula,” he whispered. “Forgive me, but I have to do this.”

  He got into the water and lifted her in with him. “Goodbye, Paula.”

  He pushed her head under.

  The security guard burst out from the rear entrance of the hotel with Gale right behind him.

  The pool was in darkness. He switched on his flashlight and Gale followed him as he took off at a run. His beam found a man standing inside the pool while holding down a feebly moving body underneath the water.

  Jost’s head jerked up as he saw two figures running toward him. He leapt out of the pool.

  “Get him!” Gale screamed.

  The security guard on his tail, Jost made a dash for the rear perimeter of the premises. Gale jumped into the water, and as tiny as she was, she pulled Paula up before her body began its slow trajectory to the bottom. Her head in free air again, Paula’s eyes popped open, she drew in a wheezing breath and began to cough and splutter.

  “It’s okay, boss,” Gale said breathlessly. “I got you.”

  Chief Inspector Agyekum stood over Jost Miedema, who lay prone on the ground in handcuffs. The security guard had tackled him and wrestled him to the ground, keeping him pinned until Agyekum arrived.

  At poolside, Paula sat with a large hotel towel wrapped around her as Thelo cradled her in his arms. She was breathing heavily and shivering.

  He kissed her. “I don’t know what I would do if I lost you.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Paula sat forward in the hospital bed of her private room as the doctor listened to her lungs with his stethoscope.

  “You’re lucky and you have a strong constitution,” he said. “Your heart and lungs are fine.”

  “Thank you, Doctor,” she said, sitting back against her pillows.

  “Actually,” he said folding up his stethoscope, “your assailant did you something of a favor by administering the diazepam. He wanted to make it easier to drown you by making your muscles too weak to struggle, but that also allowed you to conserve energy, and because the drug suppressed your respirations, you didn’t inhale significant amounts of water.”

  If you say so, Paula thought. Thanks to another effect of the drug, she remembered nothing of the harrowing experience.

  “Shall I call your visitors back in?” he asked her.

  “Yes, please. Thank you again, Doctor.”

  Thelo, Gale, Diane, and Oliver returned to her bedside.

  “Don’t tire her out too much,” the doctor warned.

  Thelo kissed Paula on the cheek and she smiled wanly and held his hand.

  “How do you feel?” he asked her.

  “Surprisingly hungry.”

  “Well,” he joked, “seeing as how you didn’t show up for dinner last night.”

  Paula laughed weakly, and then winced as a muscle somewhere reminded her she was far from back to normal.

  “Thank you for what you’ve done, boss,” Oliver said quietly. “You’ve restored Heather’s good name and found her killer too.”

  They gave her a round of applause.

  “Now can we get back to our normal lives?” Thelo said dryly.

  “I think so,” Paula said.

  “What do you mean, think so?” he asked suspiciously.

  “I mean, yes,” she responded hastily. “When will Stephan and Stephanie get here?”

  “I just spoke to Ama. She’s on the way with them.”

  “Any word on how long you’ll be out, boss?” Diane asked.

  “I don’t plan to stay here long,” Paula answered.

  “Don’t rush it,” Gale advised. “Not to worry, we’ll hold down the fort.”

  “Diane?” Paula said. “Can you continue Ajua’s tutoring and keep a special eye on her? She needs our support. You know how much she idolized Heather, and I don’t want her backsliding.”

  “Of course, I will, Paula.”

  “How are the rehearsals going?” she asked eagerly.

  “A little chaotic,” Gale said, “but the kids are doing a fine job. It’s going to be great show.”

  “I know it will,” Paula said.

  “Come on, Oliver, Diane,” Gale said, “let’s go. There’s a full day of school ahead.”

  “Thank you, guys,” Paula called out as they left.

  Thelo plumped up her pillows. “Get some sleep, now.”

  “Okay. You leaving for a while?”

  “No, I’ll be right here.”

  She woke hours later to Thelo’s soft voice. “There’s someone here to see you, honey.”

  Paula looked to her side. Mr. Peterson was smiling at her. “How are you?”

  “Better, thank you.”

  “I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye and thanking you from the bottom of my heart.”

  She smiled and held out her hand. He took it and gently squeezed.

  “Have all the arrangements been made?” she asked.

  “Yes, we’re leaving Friday, and I must say that everyone has been wonderful. Things have gone smoothly after that rocky start and Heather’s all set for the flight back home.”

  “Good, I’m glad. I was worried you would go away with the most awful impression of Ghana and its people.”

  “No, not at all. But I do have one little piece of advice: guys, you gotta pick up the pace just a tad.”

  She laughed with him. “Point well taken. Thank you for coming to Ghana and watching over Heather.”

  “Goodbye, Paula, and God bless. Get better real soon.”

  The nurse came in with a light meal, which left Paula hungrier than before. Thelo went out on a secret mission to get her some “real food.” Minutes after he had left, with a light tap on the door, Chief Inspector Agyekum came in.
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  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Djan,” he said, smiling. They shook hands. “How are you faring?”

  “Much better, thank you. Please have a seat. My husband stepped out for a moment.”

  Agyekum pulled up a chair. “I must say, I owe you an apology.”

  “Oh?” she said innocently.

  “I didn’t believe your convictions about Heather. You were right, I was wrong, and I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you.”

  She smiled. “In many ways, I don’t blame you. You were going on past experience and you didn’t know either Heather or me.”

  “I’m glad you persisted, however.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Not that I’m glad you had to tangle with a dangerous criminal and end up in the hospital,” he added quickly. “Not that part.”

  They laughed.

  “Has Mr. Miedema confessed?” she asked him.

  “He has, and if I can have your assurances that you will keep it confidential, I will tell you what he said.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Mr. Miedema fell in love with Heather Peterson probably the first moment he saw her at the hotel swimming pool,” Agyekum began. “The way he has always told the story is that when she learned he was a triathlon champion, she asked him to help her improve her stroke and stamina. In fact, it was the other way around. He suggested it rather to her, and after some persuasion, she thought it was a good idea. On the pretext of analyzing her swimming style, he took pictures and videos of her performance supposedly to instruct her on how she could improve. He gave her the false impression that he was taking only a few photos, but in fact he took hundreds of them with his high-speed camera.”

  “Did he tell her how he felt about her?” Paula asked.

  “Not for some time,” Agyekum said, “but Mr. Miedema sensed that she saw him only as her informal coach, an older athlete with the benefit of years of experience, and he wasn’t satisfied with that. He wanted a romantic relationship with her. He spent hours looking at the photos he had taken of her and fantasizing about how he might become her true love.”