Cruising to Murder

by Mark McCrum

‘We did find her, yes. But too late to save her.’

  ‘And which part of the world was that?’

  ‘The Med. Standard antiquities cruise. She went overboard as we were approaching Malta. Coastguard sent out helicopter, which spotted body.’

  Francis nodded thoughtfully. ‘So what happens now?’ he asked.

  ‘We stick to itinerary,’ the captain replied.

  ‘A day at sea today …’

  ‘And tomorrow too, while we pass Cote d’Ivoire and Liberia.’

  ‘Not known for their visitor attractions,’ said Viktor.

  This brought a chuckle from the captain.

  ‘Then a day out in Freetown,’ Viktor continued. ‘A nice morning on Banana Island. An afternoon on one of the islands of the Bijagos Archipelago in Guinea-Bissau. A day’s birdwatching in the Gambia. Finally into port at Dakar.’

  ‘And what happens to Don in all these places?’ asked Francis.

  ‘We keep eye on him,’ said the captain. ‘Unless you come up with definite evidence that he had something to do with his partner’s death, in which case I will confine him to cabin.’

  ‘And that will be enough?’

  ‘Of course. We can lock him in, if necessary. We even have little jail on board. Next to morgue. But no, nobody wants ship to become floating investigation. This is one of reasons I have asked you to help. Because you are not member of crew and I can, I hope, trust you to be discreet.’

  ‘And the others?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Reasons?’

  The captain broke into an almost embarrassed smile. ‘Your previous experience. At English festival.’

  ‘I see,’ Francis said. He looked round the room at the impassive face of Alexei, and the slightly less controlled features of Viktor and Carmen. It was clear that the captain didn’t need to outline what might occur if that trust was broken. Might he confine Francis to cabin too? Or even lock him in the jail? He decided to place a little marker in the sand.

  ‘I am under no obligation to continue with these enquiries,’ he said.

  ‘Of course not,’ said the captain. ‘But you are curious, no? And there is perhaps professional interest here?’

  Francis caught Carmen’s eye. The captain had understood him all too well; and in his blunt way, he was a skilful negotiator.

  Shirley and her husband were not in their cabin on deck three; Hentie had not seen them since before lunch. Francis and Carmen checked in a variety of public spaces: the glassed-in Observation Lounge at the front of deck six, the empty theatre just behind, the Whirlpool Bar at the stern of that deck, the Panorama Lounge on deck five, the restaurant on deck four, the adjacent library and games room, even the reception area and boutique back on deck three.

  ‘Unless they’ve gone overboard too there’s only one place left they can be,’ said Carmen, leading briskly towards the stairs.

  Sure enough, they found the couple up on the sun deck at the rear of deck seven. Shirley was spread out on a lounger, with only a capacious blue one-piece, a straw hat and a pair of Chanel sunglasses to cover her; while Gerald, a yard or two away in the shade of a square white pillar, was sitting upright on a chair doing a crossword. He looked beadily over his rimless specs as Francis and Carmen approached.

  ‘Sorry to disturb you both in the middle of a quiet afternoon,’ Francis said. ‘Is there any chance of a word in confidence? We’re trying to gather some information on the woman who went overboard last night, and we believe you were some of the last people to speak to her.’

  Shirley put her Kindle aside and sat up, her lounger creaking ominously.

  ‘And what exactly is your role?’ she asked coolly. ‘I don’t even know you, I don’t think.’

  ‘I’m sorry. Francis Meadowes is my name. We spoke briefly during cocktails on deck last night …’

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Shirley. ‘You didn’t approve of the attitude of the guides at Elmina Fort.’

  ‘I’m not quite sure …’ Francis began, then thought the better of it. There was no point picking a fight with a key witness, was there? ‘You were arguing that point with the couple from Chicago, I think.’

  ‘Bruce and Candy. The rednecks, we call them. Their attitudes are in-credible. With a capital “I”. If I’d seen a movie with them in it I would have said they were not believable characters. But there they are. Mr Sports Jock and his dumb blonde cheerleader wife. You should hear Brad and Damian on the subject – our gay American friends. Have you met them? Brad’s a dead ringer for George Clooney.’ Francis nodded and Shirley smiled. ‘So you’re trying to establish what happened to poor Lauren?’

  ‘In a word, yes.’

  ‘And why you exactly?’

  ‘The captain,’ Carmen cut in, ‘and Alexei, our security officer, have asked Francis for help, since he has some expertise in this area.’

  ‘So – what?’ said Shirley. ‘Are you an off-duty policeman or something?’

  Francis looked over at Carmen. As she explained about what Francis did and his involvement in the Mold-on-Wold murders, Shirley’s attitude visibly changed. ‘That literary festival business?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes,’ said Francis.

  ‘Interesting. I’d like to talk to you about that some time. The famous literary critic who was killed was two-timing his wife, wasn’t that it?’

  ‘Three-timing his non-wife,’ Francis corrected. ‘I’d be happy to fill you in, once we’ve got some answers to this shocking situation.’

  ‘It is shocking,’ Shirley agreed. ‘We were just saying that, weren’t we, Gerald?’

  Her husband nodded.

  ‘As you say,’ she went on, ‘I think we were some of the last people to speak to her. We had a drink with them in the bar – good heavens, was it only last night? It feels like a week ago. Poor Lauren. She could be such fun. Before she got too tipsy. I realize she had her difficulties with Don, but …’

  ‘So what did you know of those?’ asked Francis, squatting down beside her. It was more comfortable out of the glare, though still impossible to read the expression in Shirley’s eyes behind the gleaming panes of her dark glasses.

  ‘Not much more than anyone else,’ she replied. ‘But we witnessed them rowing a couple of times, didn’t we, Gerald?’

  ‘I was there,’ said Francis. ‘Both times. Did you get a sense of what it was all about?’

  ‘Money,’ said Shirley. ‘And maybe commitment. They weren’t married …’

  ‘We’d been told that.’

  ‘I think … maybe that was an issue for her …’

  Francis outlined the story that Don had told them, and then Sebastian’s version. ‘D’you have any idea which is true?’ he asked.

  Shirley looked over at Gerald. ‘God, what a terrible thing. I just assumed he had the money. Didn’t you, lovey?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Shows how wrong you can be. These patriarchal structures are so common, we don’t even consider the alternative. I guess if that’s what he told Sebastian, it probably is true. Sebastian can be a bit naughty, but I don’t think he’d make something like that up.’

  ‘There did seem also,’ Francis went on, ‘to be a measure of jealousy on Don’s part. Particularly about the hotel director—’

  ‘Gorgeous Gregoire,’ Shirley completed. ‘We all noticed that. Lauren liked him, no doubt about that.’

  ‘He was much closer to her in age,’ said Gerald.

  ‘D’you know what?’ said Shirley, loudly, almost as if she had to interrupt, or at least overlay this spousal intrusion. ‘Whatever Don imagined, there was nothing in it. He and Lauren may have argued when she got drunk, but she was devoted to him. Really. You could see it. So what did Don say?’

  ‘He thought there might have been something going on. From what he told us, there had been situations like this in the past.’

  ‘“Like this”? What d’you mean?’

  ‘Serious flirting,’ said Francis. ‘And, he said, actual infidelity.’

&nb
sp; ‘This isn’t just the fantasy of a frustrated old man?’ said Shirley.

  They sat discussing the relationship for a little longer. But it seemed clear that neither Shirley nor her partner had much actual knowledge. They had got to know Don and Lauren only over these past few days. They had had dinner with them once, in the company of others. But there had been no sharing of life stories, such as Sebastian claimed to have had with Don in the Antarctic. Eventually Francis got to his feet and thanked them.

  ‘We’ll keep you posted,’ he said as he backed away. ‘Sorry to have disturbed your afternoon.’

  ‘We were glad to be of help,’ said Shirley, taking off her sunglasses. ‘I can’t believe it’s happened to be honest.’ As she looked up at him he saw anxiety in her eyes. ‘You do think we’re safe on this ship?’

  ‘Of course,’ Francis lied. ‘The sad truth is,’ he went on, ‘that Lauren may have just stumbled and fallen off. She was very drunk by all accounts.’

  ‘It still all seems very odd to me,’ said Shirley.

  ‘So what do we think?’ Francis asked Carmen, as they walked back down deck seven. The bow at this upper level was inaccessible, taken up with a bristling forest – or more correctly, perhaps, a copse – of masts around a huge, central white ball (which presumably relayed signals and other information down to the bridge two decks below). But at the stern, beyond the squat little structure that housed the fitness centre and adjacent spa, there was nothing between the two big lifeboats, slung up high on each side, but decking and railings, overlooking the deck six grill area, and beyond that the wake of the ship stretching out in that narrowing band of frothing white towards the distant horizon.

  ‘I think we think, mate,’ she replied, ‘that we have no idea.’

  She was grasping the railings with both hands as she turned to smile at him, her cropped blonde hair fluffed up by the breeze off the sea. Looking at her well-bronzed skin close up in this bright sunlight, he wondered how old she was. She was very toned; soignée and toned, with well-defined muscles in her upper arms. Attractive, but not, strangely, to him; the awful truth was that he preferred highly strung, lily-white Sadie.

  ‘What about the gay guys, Brad and Damian?’ he asked. ‘D’you think they might have something useful to say about the Don and Lauren set-up? I saw them all chatting together in the bar at least once.’

  ‘I suppose it wouldn’t do us any harm to talk to them.’

  ‘Meanwhile, as Viktor said, if Lauren had the money and Don didn’t, and there’s a will, he suddenly has a solid motive. We know he was angry with her because of what he thought she’d got up to with Gregoire. Would that combination be enough to tip him into a moment of madness? He may be old, but he looks strong enough to have given her a shove. Especially if she were caught unawares.’

  ‘And was drunk with it.’

  ‘And was drunk with it,’ Francis repeated thoughtfully.

  ‘What about Gregoire?’ asked Carmen.

  ‘As a suspect? I can’t see why he’d want to get rid of Lauren. If she had the money …’

  ‘Unless Don was right and something had happened between them. And Lauren, drunk and angry with her lover too, had threatened to expose him. Gregoire’s not allowed to get involved with passengers. It’s a career-threatening situation.’

  ‘Would you really kill to save your job on a particular ship?’

  ‘On any ship, Francis. He’d never get a reference if he’d been caught with a passenger. The cruising world is tiny, especially when it comes to these small, high-end liners.’

  ‘OK,’ said Francis. ‘And what about Eve in all this? If she didn’t die of natural causes, could there be a link?’

  ‘Nothing obvious. They’re not even the same nationality.’

  ‘The only thing we know they have in common is that they were both on that previous cruise to Antarctica at Christmas. Was Gregoire on that too?’

  ‘I’ve no idea, I wasn’t on it. But yes, probably. Unless he was on leave, he would have been.’

  ‘Can we find out?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Sebastian also mentioned Daphne and Henry and Colonel Joe. I think Brad and Damian were on it too, if my eavesdropping was accurate.’

  ‘Your eavesdropping?’

  ‘On the coach. On the way down to Tema dock.’

  ‘Nothing gets past you, does it, mate? OK, let’s go find them. Check the fitness centre first?’

  Francis laughed.

  ‘They are two of the major users of that place,’ said Carmen. ‘Apart from me and Colonel Joe, of course.’

  But Brad and Damian were not in the fitness centre; nor were they in their cabin down on deck three. Francis and Carmen eventually found them having coffee and playing piquet in the Panorama Lounge. On the linen tablecloth between them was a plate of petits fours.

  ‘D’you mind if we join you for a minute?’ asked Carmen.

  There was a moment of puzzled surprise and then effusive politeness.

  ‘Please do,’ said the older of the pair, putting his cards face down and holding out a hand. ‘Brad,’ he said. He did indeed, Francis thought, have something George Clooney about him, if only in his obvious awareness of his classic American good looks. ‘Have one of these delicious sweet things. Save us from ourselves. That’s the problem with these cruises. Endless temptation. Shall we order you some coffee? Or tea?’

  ‘We’re fine,’ Francis said, looking over at Carmen.

  ‘Hi, I’m Damian.’ The younger man was altogether slighter; his voice a register higher.

  Carmen introduced Francis. ‘You’ve heard about Lauren?’ she said.

  ‘Of course,’ said Brad, quietly.

  ‘Awful,’ said Damian. ‘We didn’t even know until the briefing this morning. Apparently, the ship turned round and everything, but we both slept through it.’

  ‘The whole thing?’ asked Francis.

  ‘Pretty much,’ said Brad. ‘I was aware there was some kind of movement in the ship, but it never occurred to me it would be someone overboard. Why didn’t they sound the alarm?’

  ‘Didn’t want people to panic,’ said Francis. ‘They’ve got enough crew to check the sea and man the rescue if they need to.’

  ‘I always sleep like the proverbial log,’ said Damian. ‘Didn’t hear a thing.’

  Carmen explained what the captain had asked Francis and her to do. And then the differing accounts of the Don and Lauren relationship. ‘So we’re just trying to work out the truth. You spent quite a bit of time with them, didn’t you?’

  Brad looked at Damian and Damian looked at Brad.

  ‘That’s all hokum about Don having the money,’ Damian said. ‘Sebastian’s right. He’s broke. And Lauren was like a pop heiress.’

  ‘I don’t want to sound unduly cynical,’ said Francis, ‘but what did she see in Don?’

  ‘The thing was,’ said Damian, ‘they’d been together for a long time. Since Lauren was in her twenties. She worked for him originally. I guess he was more of a big cheese then. And at one point I think he did have a whole load of dough.’

  ‘So why would an heiress need to work?’

  ‘Don had magazines,’ said Damian. ‘Quite glamorous ones. From what I gathered, she was involved with the art direction. It was like a job she didn’t need to have, but enjoyed. You know the kind of thing. Arty status.’

  ‘I see,’ said Francis; it was all becoming clearer. ‘Did you get a sense of what they argued about?’ he asked.

  ‘The usual,’ said Damian. ‘Money, sex, bad habits.’

  ‘Don told us she wanted to marry him,’ said Francis, ‘and that that was the problem.’

  Damian looked at Brad. ‘That might once have been something she wanted. But I’m not sure she was that bothered now.’

  ‘Shirley thought she might have been.’

  ‘You have been thorough,’ said Brad. ‘Well, I guess there’s a certain type of girl who always wants a ring on her finger.’

  �
�Enough already!’ said Damian.

  Brad laughed and looked at Francis. ‘We’re getting married in the fall.’

  ‘Congratulations.’

  ‘Our home state’s only recently made it legal, so it’s kind of exciting for us.’

  ‘Which state is that?’

  ‘Montana. It’s been quite a fight.’

  ‘I imagine,’ Francis said. ‘To go back to Lauren,’ he went on, after a moment. ‘When you say “sex”, d’you mean just between them, or were there others involved?’

  Damian looked at Brad; it was as if he were seeking permission to speak.

  ‘Both,’ he replied. ‘If you want to know about this, my feeling was Don still wanted her, but she didn’t reciprocate. Maybe she also had little flings here and there and that wound him up. But then he kind of needed her, not least because she’s got the money now. Perhaps he found it hard to accept that. You know, getting older, losing allure, losing control …’

  ‘The great relationship analyst, my fiancé,’ said Brad.

  ‘I notice these things. Dumb ass here just sails on regardless.’

  ‘She was dancing quite intimately with Gregoire last night,’ Francis said. ‘And the other evening too.’

  ‘Oh, Gregoire,’ said Damian. ‘Such a tease, that man.’

  ‘Just a tease? Or do you think something was actually going on between them?’

  ‘There was a flirtation, no doubt about that. But to be honest, I’m not sure Gregoire isn’t catered for below stairs.’

  ‘How d’you mean?’

  ‘He’s a handsome fellow. And an officer. He’s more than likely got some little house mouse tucked away. At least while his contract lasts.’

  ‘House mouse?’

  ‘Watch him with that pretty Latvian receptionist on deck three. There’s a definite blush in her cheeks when he ruffles her hair.’

  ‘What d’you think, Carmen? Is that likely?’

  ‘That pretty Latvian receptionist is called Larisa,’ Carmen replied. ‘I can’t say I’ve ever seen them together like that, in the crew bar or whatever. But then again, these things do go on, not always above the radar …’

  ‘Damian has a very overactive imagination,’ said Brad.

  Before they got up and left the pair to their card game, Francis had one other question for them. They had both, he thought, been on an Antarctic cruise the previous winter. Had it been the Christmas one?’