Cruising to Murder

by Mark McCrum

  ‘Ray?’ Viktor replied. ‘Waterboard him probably. No, I expect just being in the captain’s presence will be enough. Ray knows that the captain has the power to put him off at the next port if he’s not happy. And make sure he never works for Goldencruise again.’

  Carmen had joined them. ‘Are we going to an interrogation?’

  ‘I think we are,’ said Francis. He didn’t meet her eye, unhappy as he was that she’d passed on his speculations without consulting him. Then, glancing involuntarily over towards Sadie, he saw she was looking at them. Her gaze stayed on him for a moment, then, without meeting his eye, flicked away, as she returned to an enthusiastic talk with Leo. Her gloved hand was resting on his arm.

  THIRTEEN

  The poor man looked terrified, like the proverbial rabbit caught in the headlights. The captain had put him alone at one end of the L-shaped padded crimson bench that ran along two walls of his little office. He himself was on a big swivel chair, his back to his desk. Viktor, Carmen, Francis and Dr Lagip were squashed up on the other arm of the L. First Officer Alexei, oddly, was not present.

  Ray had repeated how he’d found the body of his colleague when he’d come off shift and was expecting to be alone in their shared cabin. Dr Lagip confirmed that Ray had called her immediately on the ship’s phone and she had found him sitting there, holding George’s hand, clearly in shock.

  ‘Did you know he was dead?’ asked the captain.

  ‘I thought he was, yes, sir.’

  ‘So why hold his hand?’

  ‘Don’t know, sir. I thought, maybe, I was wrong, sir. His hand was warm. It was like he was still alive.’

  ‘You two were friends, yes?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Not more than that?’

  Ray’s eyes flickered as he took the captain’s meaning. ‘No, sir. He was married man. And I – no, sir. I am promised in marriage.’

  The captain looked over at Francis and raised his thick black eyebrows. ‘These things happen on board ship. Even with married men.’ He turned back to Ray. ‘So you were part of search, the night before?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘And you knew George was one who’d seen this woman go over?’

  ‘Yes, sir. We all knew that, sir. Not straight away, but soon after.’

  ‘And yet, you tell us, that during course of search, and in hours afterwards, you didn’t speak to him about what had happened?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘We stopped to search for three hours. Both you and George were up on deck seven.’

  ‘Yes, sir. But George was at other end of ship, sir. He was bow, I was stern. You can ask first officer.’

  ‘I will do,’ the captain said. ‘And then what happened? When search was stopped?’

  ‘I went back to cabin to sleep, sir. George stayed on shift. He was on midnight to eight hundred hours. I was on eight to sixteen hundred hours, sir.’

  ‘Which means you would have crossed over at eight hundred hours?’

  ‘No, sir. I was already gone before George returned to cabin. It is always like that in morning, sir.’

  The captain’s expression was one of disbelief. ‘That may well have been normal arrangement. I understand that. But. You ask us to believe that on morning when your friend had seen passenger going overboard, you did not stay for few minutes to find out what he saw?’

  ‘I cannot be late for first officer shift, sir. You know him, sir. First officer is angry if we are late.’

  ‘This is true.’ The captain turned to the others. ‘Alexei is no softie. I think you’d agree, Viktor.’

  ‘Yes, Captain. Alexei is no softie.’

  ‘And this morning,’ Ray continued, ‘when whole ship is in panic, I must be early for shift, I think. So even though I am eager to speak to George about what happened, I do not speak to him. I go to shift. And then work till fifteen hundred hours, when first officer lets me go off. I return to cabin an hour early, hoping, yes, to speak to him before he goes on shift. And that is when I find him, sir, on bunk. I think at first he has passed out, but then I notice swollen leg—’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ said the captain, impatiently. ‘You’ve told us that.’ He looked hard at Ray. ‘You realize that if this turns out not to be true you will be automatically fired.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘You will leave at next port.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Freetown.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Without wages.’

  Was that legal? Francis wondered. Ray didn’t question it.

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘You will never be hired by Golden Adventurer company again.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘And if I have anything to do with it, you will never be hired by any other cruise line again. For any job.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Back to Manila.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘For good.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘No more money for family.’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘So that’s it then. You are telling us all that George said nothing to you about what he’d seen?’

  Ray was looking down at the floor. Now he looked up and round the little group, entreaty in his eyes. Francis did his best to look as sympathetic as possible. ‘Please, sir,’ Ray replied. ‘I told you. I didn’t speak to him. Of course I wanted to know. We all did. But then I think: today I finish at sixteen hundred hours. So either I speak to George then, or later, because he comes off shift at twenty hundred and this evening I have not shift. So maybe we can go to bar for an hour and I can hear story then.’

  ‘OK,’ said the captain. ‘So what did you hear from others? While you were all up there looking out for MOB?’

  ‘That it was woman, sir. Who had fallen from top deck.’

  ‘And that George had seen her?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘And that was all?’ said the captain. ‘Nothing about who woman was, or what exactly George had seen?’

  ‘Yes, sir. I mean no, sir. Nothing. Except …’

  ‘Except?’

  There was a pause.

  ‘Except what?’ the captain repeated.

  ‘Some people say she drink too much, sir.’

  ‘Who said that?’

  ‘Some of the bar staff.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter, sir.’

  ‘I’m asking you: who?’

  There was another long pause, during which Ray was visibly struggling with mixed loyalties.

  ‘Alfredo,’ he replied, eventually.

  ‘Our pianist?’’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Not bar staff.’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘What exactly did he say?’

  ‘He said that on two nights she was crashing around dance floor, sir. Like elephant. With husband. And also—’

  ‘And also?’ asked the captain, his eyes like a predator who has his claws on the throat of his prey.

  ‘And also … with others … sometimes.’

  ‘Did he mention any particular others?’

  ‘You better ask him that, sir.’

  ‘Or I can save time and ask you. Which others did he mention?’

  ‘Another passenger maybe,’ said Ray, feebly.

  ‘And someone else? A member of staff? Tell us, please, Ray.’

  ‘I did not say this, sir.’

  ‘Just give us name, please, Ray.’

  ‘Mr Gregoire, sir.’

  ‘What were they saying?’

  ‘That he had been dancing with her, sir.’

  ‘Nothing more?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘Not that he was seen later, in dark corner of upper deck, kissing her?’

  Ray looked genuinely shocked. He was either an extremely good actor, or this was a surprise. It was to Francis too. He hadn’t realized that Carmen had relayed Sadie’s information to the captain as well. He trie
d to meet her eye, but she wasn’t looking his way.

  ‘No, sir,’ Ray said. ‘Nobody said that. They were just saying that she had been drunk, and had been falling over when she was dancing.’

  ‘OK, Ray. I understand.’ The captain looked him slowly up and down. ‘Is there anything else you want to say?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  The captain turned to the other four on the bench.

  ‘Is there anything any of you would like to ask Ray?’

  Francis waited, but there was no response from the others. ‘If I might,’ he asked, after a few moments.

  ‘Please …’ said the captain.

  ‘We do understand, Ray,’ he said, ‘how difficult this is for you. This death has been a horrible shock. You are the one who has to live below deck, and if you tell us some secret that only you know your loyalties may well be compromised. But you have to trust us. We will not pass on anything you tell us. That’s a promise, isn’t it, Captain?’

  The captain nodded.

  ‘On that basis, Ray, may I just simply ask: do you have any idea, any idea at all, who killed your cabin mate?’

  There was silence.

  ‘No, sir,’ the engineer replied.

  ‘He hadn’t argued with any other crew member that you knew about?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘This is between us, Ray,’ said Viktor. ‘It won’t be reported back. You won’t be in trouble with anyone if you tell us anything.’

  ‘Even if it seems unimportant,’ added Francis.

  ‘There was nothing, sir. George was much-liked fellow, sir. Family man, sir.’

  ‘OK,’ said the captain, looking round after another long pause. ‘Is that all?’

  There was a general murmur and no more questions.

  ‘You can go now,’ said the captain.

  Ray was on his feet.

  ‘Have they taken body from cabin?’ the captain added.

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘So you can get some sleep?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘I should go and do that. When does your next shift start?’

  ‘Four hundred hours, sir.’

  ‘OK, you get some quiet time in, then.’

  Ray scuttled off, with barely a nod to the other four. Francis was annoyed that he hadn’t managed to catch his eye again, to reassure him that he was in a separate category of trustworthiness to the rest of the investigation panel.

  ‘So,’ said the captain, once he’d gone. ‘Do we believe him?’

  ‘I wasn’t sure before,’ said Carmen. ‘But I think he was telling the truth this time. You put enough pressure on him.’

  ‘I could have been harder,’ the captain replied. He didn’t specify how. ‘But I agree. So we draw blank.’

  ‘Not entirely,’ said Viktor. ‘There’s still Gregoire.’

  ‘It is no secret Lauren was dancing with Gregoire,’ said the captain. ‘Did she kiss him too? Or more than that? Who knows? We only have word of one passenger for that.’

  Francis looked over at Carmen again, who shrugged. Apologetically? Hardly.

  ‘Sadie,’ said Francis. If his information was going to be out there, it might as well be out there. ‘But why would she make something like that up?’

  ‘Women do these things,’ the captain said. ‘Maybe she was jealous.’

  ‘With all due respect,’ said Francis, ‘I don’t think Sadie has any designs on Gregoire.’

  ‘At least that is one man she is not interested in,’ said the captain, with a chuckle. Even though Francis had not succumbed to her charms, he felt slightly offended on her behalf.

  ‘Don’t you think that it’s a piece of information we should take seriously?’ he said. ‘I thought members of staff having relations with passengers was strictly against the rules.’

  ‘It is,’ said the captain.

  ‘Career threatening, even? Doesn’t that provide Gregoire with a motive?’

  ‘If it was true, it might do,’ said the captain. ‘How shall I put this? Gregoire has been my hotel director for three years. Each year we do close to twenty separate cruise segments on this ship. Gregoire is on eighteen of them, and me also. So I know him well. He is vain, yes. Ambitious, also. He comes from nowhere, he would like to be something, wouldn’t we all? As for this supposed flirtation … OK, so he is good at his job. He dances with many passengers. Younger and older. Makes them feel special. “Oh Gregoire, so good to see you again.” So they rebook. He is asset to us. But. Actually kissing passenger. Or more than that. I doubt it. Why? Gregoire is not one to break rules – there is too much at stake for him. Also, he is well-catered for in that area, believe me.’

  ‘On the ship. Or off the ship?’ asked Francis.

  ‘Both, probably.’ The captain laughed. ‘Don’t get me wrong. I don’t go in for such liaisons myself, it would not be professional. I would be compromised. But if hotel director wishes to sleep with receptionist, or butler, or masseuse from beauty salon, who am I to care? If they are still doing job properly, that is fine. If it interferes with job, I will put one of them off at next port.’

  ‘I see,’ said Francis. He turned to Carmen. ‘Did you know this?’

  She nodded; a little bashfully, it had to be said.

  ‘So you presumably all know who he is involved with?’ he asked.

  He looked round the room and realized from their faces that they did.

  ‘You may look no further than your own cabin,’ said the captain.

  ‘My cabin?’ Francis asked, feeling stupid. Then: ‘What? Hentie?’

  The captain nodded. Carmen and Viktor smiled. Francis looked down at the hard grey surface of the floor. He was furious, he realized suddenly, that while they had been freely passing his other information around, this unlikely fact had been kept from him.

  ‘I think,’ he said measuredly, ‘that if you want me to help you with all this, it would be useful if you disclosed this sort of thing. Otherwise – to be frank – I feel as if … I’m just wasting my time.’

  ‘What do you want?’ said the captain, tersely. ‘A list of every bunk-up on lower deck? That might take a while.’

  FOURTEEN

  Francis retreated to his cabin. The bed had been turned down, there was a chocolate on each of the two pillows, and between these another flannel animal, though this one looked more like a lizard. He pinched it at the neck and hopped it slowly across on to the right pillow, so that it was apparently eating the chocolate. Maybe Hentie would find that amusing. Then he walked through into the living-room area and sat down on the couch by the porthole.

  He stared out through the thick double layer of glass at the ocean. It stretched away, an undulating blue-black, to the distant flat line of the horizon. The sun had recently set and the clouds parading high across the darkening sky were a brilliant pink, like so many puffs of backlit candyfloss. Even as he watched, their glow faded to a lifeless grey. He turned away and drew his curtain; on the dark night falling on the endless empty ocean.

  Was he sulking? No. Francis wasn’t a sulker. But he was reassessing. His contribution. That was for sure. I mean, how on earth could they expect him to make any sort of serious effort to get to the bottom of all this if they were going to hold things back from him? Gregoire being involved with Lauren had been part of his thinking, if not his central theory. Why hadn’t Carmen said something to him, when he’d told her that Sadie had seen them snogging? Why hadn’t she just said, ‘Er, unlikely, I think, given that Gregoire is hooked up with your butler Hentie?’ He had been relying on Carmen as a sounding board and she had disappointed him. First, by passing information that he’d intended to be confidential straight on to Viktor and the captain. And then, this.

  So how did this new information fit in with his theory about Gregoire the serial killer? Not well. Unless Sadie really was lying. But why would she? The captain’s suggestion that she was jealous was surely ridiculous. Wasn’t it?

  Well, first things first.

  F
rancis got to his feet and walked over to the desk, picked up the phone receiver and jabbed nine.

  ‘Good evening,’ came that clipped, flat, guttural accent. ‘Butler service.’

  ‘Hentie, hi, it’s Francis in 312.’

  ‘Good evening, sir. And how are you this evening?’

  ‘Fine thanks. I just wondered … could I have a pot of tea in my cabin?’

  ‘Of course, sir. Would you like anything with that? Cake, biscuits, canapes or something off the room service menu?’

  ‘Just the tea, thanks.’

  ‘I’ll be right along, sir.’

  Sir, sir, sir. Keep me at arm’s length, why don’t you? They had to, he supposed.

  He did want the tea, but he also wanted another look at Gregoire’s supposed girlfriend. Francis wouldn’t have picked her, stocky, muscly and workaday-looking as she was, for such an exotic bloom as Gregoire. Indeed, he was starting to wonder if he could trust any of them now. Was this story really true? It had certainly been odd, Francis thought, the way the captain had been so protective of his hotel director. Almost as odd as the way, earlier, he’d insisted that George Dimagiba needed his beauty sleep. For a moment, Francis found himself countenancing a scenario where the captain himself was involved in these mysterious deaths. In charge? The murdering sea captain. He wouldn’t have been the first.

  Why had they let him stay in Eve’s cabin in the first place? Francis wondered. At the time he had thought it a little odd that the captain hadn’t just asked him to leave. And why had he called him back after the MOB? The captain is keen to have you present at our discussion! What if he were just a pawn in a bigger game? If they had got him involved as part of a cover-up? ‘We even asked the resident crime writer to look into it. You can’t accuse us of not trying.’

  Oh, you vain and foolish man! Of course they didn’t give a hoot about your so-called detective skills. The story of Mold-on-Wold means nothing to them. They were just using you.

  But they had all been disappointed just now, hadn’t they? All hoping that Ray was going to crack under pressure, reveal that, yes, George had told him that he’d seen something terrible. Gregoire tipping Lauren overboard. Admit it, Francis, that’s what you’d been hoping for. And then everything would have fitted neatly: either Gregoire had been involved with Lauren, or he’d told her something incriminating, or both.