“Why the purser?”
“That’s who Nigel complained to when my laptop and phone were taken,” I said. “He should at least be able to tell us who to talk to.”
But the purser’s office was closed until eight o’clock. Unless we ran into the captain at some point before that, our complaint would have to wait.
“Now what?” I asked.
Hal shrugged. “I suppose we could go back to our cabin and take a nap. We didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“I tried that,” I told him. “It didn’t work.”
“Okay then, what do you suggest?”
“Let’s go back to the library,” I said. “Gerard should be gone by now, and I want to see if Pete answered the e-mail I sent him.”
“You sent Pete an e-mail? What about?”
“He e-mailed us,” I said. “He was worried because we didn’t answer his e-mails and texts.”
“He could have texted me,” Hal objected. “I’ve still got a phone. I texted him about sending those pictures to Scotland Yard. Did he send them?”
“He did,” I said, “and so did the coroner from Barbados.”
“Did she send them any tissue from the body?”
“I don’t know. I asked her that, and I’m waiting for an answer from her too.”
Hal turned up a palm. “Well, then, what are we waiting for?”
When we got back to the library, Gerard was gone. I purchased some more Internet minutes, only to find that neither Pete nor Dr. Gresham-St. John had replied to my e-mails. So we went back to the Ocean Lounge, where Nigel was waiting, sprawled in a chair, eyes closed. He opened them when he heard us approach.
“Where’s Mum?” I asked.
“Gone back to the cabin to take a nap. You should do the same, old girl. None of us got much sleep last night.”
“I tried,” I told him, “but I couldn’t sleep. For that matter, why aren’t you napping?”
He shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep either. Too many things to think about.”
“Well, here’s something else to think about,” Hal said. “That bastard Gerard just threatened Toni.”
Nigel sat up straight. “You don’t say. How? Where?”
At this precise moment Boozey came over to our table and asked if we wanted anything to drink. Hal ordered coffee. Nigel and I asked for hot tea.
“Now then,” said Nigel after Boozey had gone back to the bar. “What about Gerard?”
“I was in the library,” I said. “He caught me Googling him.”
“You Googled him?” Nigel echoed. “Jolly good show, that. Why didn’t I think of that?”
“You come from a different generation,” Hal said. “Toni Googles everything.”
“That’s right.” I said. “I was Googling everybody. Gerard just happened to walk in while I was Googling him. I don’t blame him for being upset. I’m sure he felt violated.”
“Don’t you make excuses for him,” Hal retorted. “He didn’t need to threaten you about it.”
I didn’t really think Gerard was threatening me about Googling him. He was threatening me because his son had died and he held me responsible. But that wasn’t the point.
“What exactly did he say?” Nigel asked.
I told him.
“Blimey,” Nigel said. “What had you been talking about before that?”
“The murder. He thought that I thought he was the murderer. I told him that he was just one of many that I was Googling and that he should just get over himself.”
Hal put a hand over his eyes. “Jesus, Toni. What are you trying to do, alienate everybody on this ship?”
“Hey!” I objected. “Who’s alienating who here?”
“She’s right,” Nigel said. “Our chief engineer has cornered the market on the alienating business, it seems to me. Besides, didn’t our young doctor say that Gerard was angry at Toni because his son would still be alive if she hadn’t stuck her nose in?”
“So he’s got two reasons to threaten me,” I said.
“P’r’aps you should file a complaint,” Nigel said. “An officer on a cruise ship shouldn’t be allowed to go around threatening passengers.”
“We tried,” Hal said. “The purser was closed until eight o’clock.”
“Speaking of officers,” I said, “did you know that the chief engineer and the captain hold equivalent ranks?”
“I didn’t,” Nigel said, “but what’s that to do with the subject at hand?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Maybe nothing. But aren’t you forgetting something? If you and Officer Grant hadn’t made it possible for me to stick my nose in, I wouldn’t have. What I mean to say is—”
“I say,” said a new voice behind me, “do I hear my name being taken in vain?”
I turned to see Officer Grant. “Speak of the devil,” I remarked.
“May I join you?” Grant inquired.
“Of course,” Nigel said.
“Where’s your lovely wife?”
“Napping,” Nigel said. “We didn’t get much sleep last night, as you know.”
Grant nodded. “I think I got less than you did.”
Boozey came back with our tea and coffee and made a great production of arranging the milk, lemon, and sugar that came with it. If he was hoping to overhear what we were talking about he was out of luck. Officer Grant ordered coffee too, and Boozey went back to the bar.
“How’d it go telling our chief engineer that his son died?” I asked.
“About how you’d expect,” Grant said. “He spewed a lot of rot about you and the chief superintendent and me, saying that if we hadn’t meddled, his son would still be alive, and so on. The captain told him he was relieved from duty for the rest of the day and confined to quarters. Whether he actually complied with that is anybody’s guess.”
“He didn’t,” I told him. “I was in the library on the computer just now, and he came in and caught me Googling him. He wasn’t happy.”
“Oh dear,” said Grant. “Did he threaten you?”
“Not right then,” I said. “He backed off a little when I told him I was Googling everybody, not just him.”
“But then he did,” Hal put in. “Right after I got there and made her leave with me. He said that I wouldn’t always be there to rescue her.”
“Dear me,” Grant remarked. “Seems to me that you both could do with bodyguards.”
“So could you,” I said. “And Nigel.”
“That could be arranged if necessary,” Grant said. “But I can’t believe that Gerard would actually harm anyone. He’s all bluster. He’s never been violent.”
“On the other hand,” I pointed out, “his son’s never died before either. Who knows what his limits are now?”
Boozey came back with Officer Grant’s coffee. Grant signed the ticket, and Boozey left.
“Not to change the subject or anything,” Nigel said, “but have you located the mysterious Meacham?”
Grant shook his head. “Nobody’s seen him since Monday night.”
“And that’s another thing,” I said. “I Googled Wilbert Meacham and nothing came up.”
“I thought Meacham was such a common name,” Nigel said.
“Oh, it is,” I said, “there are lots and lots of Meachams—even Wilbert Meachams—but none of them are associated with any ships.”
“That’s odd,” Hal said.
“I thought so too. So then I Googled Bert Meacham, and I found him on the Seven Sisters and the Southern Cross, but not on this ship. I even found the story about him online, the same one Rob told me. Then I Googled Will Meacham and found him on all three ships.”
Nigel looked perplexed. “But I found Wilbert Meacham on the crew list for the Southern Cross. How do you explain that?”
“I can’t,” I
said. “Could there possibly be three Meachams? With two of them on the Seven Sisters and Southern Cross at the same time?”
Nigel frowned. “I suppose that’s possible. On the other hand, you can’t believe everything you see on the Internet. I’ll be more trusting of whatever crew manifests old Hardwick comes up with.”
Grant said, “Hardwick?”
“Old Scotland Yard colleague,” Nigel said.
“Actually,” I said, “if there are three Meachams, they were all on the Southern Cross at the same time.”
“Did all these Meachams work in the same department at the same time?” Hal asked.
“I don’t know. There wasn’t that much detail.”
“Oh, well,” Nigel said comfortably, “the crew manifests will clear that up. There’s my lovely wife. Fiona! Over here!”
“Assuming they get here in time,” I muttered.
“Hello, loveys,” said my mother, looking radiant and refreshed, “and Officer Grant. How nice to see you again.”
“Likewise, Mrs. Gray.”
“Fiona, please,” Mum said.
Nigel pulled out a chair for her. Boozey came back. She ordered hot tea and handed Nigel a sheaf of papers. “The purser called and said he had a fax for you, so I went down and picked it up.”
“But the purser was closed until eight,” I said in bewilderment.
“I wouldn’t know,” my mother said. “He was open for me to come get these papers. He may be closed again now. Why did you need to see him?”
“I was going to lodge a complaint against the chief engineer,” Hal told her. “He threatened Toni.”
Mum gasped. “Antoinette! What did that awful man say to you?”
I told her.
She bristled. Her curly red hair fairly quivered with indignation. “Officer Grant, that man shouldn’t be allowed to go around threatening passengers! What are you going to do about it?”
“The captain has already addressed that, Mrs.—Fiona. He’s been relieved of duty and confined to quarters for the rest of the day.”
“But he didn’t stay there,” I protested. “He was in the library not half an hour ago.”
“You did say they hold equivalent ranks,” Hal pointed out. “Maybe he doesn’t have to do what the captain says if he doesn’t want to.”
“Is that true, kitten?” Mum asked me.
“It is according to what I read online,” I said.
Grant drained his coffee and rose. “I think I’ll just mention this to the captain. Cheerio!” He left, and Boozey came back with Mum’s tea.
Nigel hadn’t said a word throughout this discourse. He’d been perusing the papers Mum had brought him, and they were now scattered all over the table. Now he looked up. “This is a copy of the crew manifest from the Seven Sisters in 1984. Joseph Gerard was first mechanic. And here is Wilbert Meacham, Able Seaman.”
“Who was chief engineer?” I asked.
“Why do you want to know that?”
“Just curious.”
Nigel turned over a page. “Ah, here it is. William Egbert Meacham. Well, I’ll be buggered.”
“Could he be Wilbert Meacham’s father?” Mum inquired.
“Can’t rule it out. Maybe our captain knows.”
“Speaking of that,” I said, “who was the captain?”
Nigel turned over another page. “Keith Alexander. Why does that sound familiar?”
“Because it’s our captain’s son’s name,” I said. “He obviously named his son after his first captain. He must have had quite an influence on young Colin Sloane.”
“Who was captain of the Southern Cross?” Hal asked.
Nigel picked up another sheaf of papers and leafed through them. “George Lynch. That sounds familiar too.”
“Our first officer is David Lynch,” I reminded him.
“Who was it that said nepotism was alive and well aboard the North Star?” Nigel mused. “Somebody said that just recently.”
“I think it was Rob,” I said, “when we were talking about Keith Sloane.”
“Sounds to me,” Hal said, “like it’s alive and well throughout the Constellation Line. I wonder if there are any more connections between the Sloanes, Meachams, and Lynches.”
“And Gerards,” I added.
“How about Alexanders?” Mum asked. “Are there any more of those?”
Nigel picked up one of the crew manifests and began to peruse it again.
“What are you doing, lovey?” Mum asked. “One would think you’d have those memorized by now.”
Hal picked up the other two crew manifests and handed one to me. “Here, we can help you look.”
I was the one to find it. The third officer aboard the North Star was John Alexander.
“How the hell could we overlook that?” Hal demanded. “It was right under our noses all the time.”
“Not really,” I said. “Until we knew about Captain Keith Alexander, it wouldn’t have meant anything. And how about this? Jessica’s last name is Lynch. She could be related to Captain George Lynch and our first officer, David Lynch. How about that?”
“But what does it mean?” Mum asked. “Does it have anything to do with our murder?”
“Murders, you mean,” I said. “Don’t forget Joe Junior and Mrs. Levine.”
“Oh dear,” said Mum. “I’d completely forgotten about her. But how could she possibly have anything to do with the other murders? She was a passenger. The others were crew.”
“Crew is everywhere,” Nigel pointed out. “Any crew member could overhear anything a passenger might say. If a passenger said something to indicate that she’d seen or heard something that might implicate a crew member in some wrongdoing, and that crew member overheard it …”
“He’d want to shut that passenger up,” Hal said. “For good.”
“The only thing she said that I know of was that the captain was having an affair with Leonie and had to get rid of her before his wife came aboard in Barbados,” I said. “She implicated the captain in Leonie’s murder, which doesn’t make any sense because Leonie was supposed to leave the ship in Bridgetown anyway. Sarah would never have had to know she was there.”
“Unless somebody talked,” Mum said. “Like Mrs. Levine.”
“Well, the only person who would’ve had any interest in killing her would be the captain,” Nigel said. “Unless his son did it and the captain’s covering for him.”
“Maybe the captain had an interest in killing Mrs. Levine too,” Hal said.
“Then why did he wait to do it until the next day when Sarah was already aboard?” Mum asked.
“We need to talk to Jessica again,” I said.
“Whatever for, kitten?” Mum asked.
“We need to know if she really is related to David Lynch,” I said. “Lynch isn’t that uncommon a name. It could just be coincidence.”
“There are no coincidences in a murder case,” Nigel said.
“What difference would it make?” Hal asked.
“Jessica and Leonie grew up together,” I explained. “David Lynch and Rob grew up together. If David is Jessica’s brother, that means that Leonie, Jessica, Rob and David all grew up together.”
“I still don’t see …” Hal began.
“Rob was engaged to Leonie,” I said. “I should say, to Maggie. She broke it off and then had a relationship with David Lynch. We were speculating that the reason Leonie got a job as an entertainer aboard ship was because David Lynch pulled strings.”
“Well, that makes sense,” Mum said.
“Maybe, but it wouldn’t have been necessary,” I said, “because Jessica was her best friend, and she could have pulled strings. Isn’t it part of her job to pick which entertainers she wants? Or does the shipping line decide that?”
“Ah,” Nigel said, �
�but who got Jessica her job?”
Light dawned. “Her brother, of course.”
“I still don’t see,” Hal pursued, “what any of this has to do with Leonie’s murder.”
“I don’t either,” I confessed, “but it puts four childhood friends together on the same ship for the same cruise.”
Hal, sounding like a broken record, said, “I still don’t see …”
“It would be quite a coincidence for that to occur without somebody prearranging it,” I said, “and Nigel says there are no coincidences in a murder case.”
“Kitten,” my mother intervened, “are you suggesting that three childhood friends conspired to murder the fourth? To what purpose?”
“Well,” I began, “Rob had a grudge against Leonie because she broke off their engagement, and a grudge against David Lynch because she took up with him next.”
“Except that nobody murdered David Lynch,” Nigel said.
“Where does Jessica come in?” Hal asked.
I clutched my head with both hands, wincing as my fingers encountered my various tender lumps and sutures. “I don’t know. It’s like trying to grasp a handful of fog. It’s making my head hurt.”
“You need to eat something, kitten,” Mum said. “Speaking of which, isn’t it getting on to dinnertime?”
I looked at my watch. “You’re right. We’d better go.”
The captain’s table was empty, and it stayed that way all through dinner. Something was clearly going on, and none of us had any doubt that it had to do with Chief Engineer Joseph Gerard’s threat.
Nonetheless, it was a bit of a shock when the Filipino maître d’ ran over to our table and whispered in Nigel’s ear.
19
Who shall decide when doctors disagree,
And soundest casuists doubt, like you and me?
—Samuel Pope
“ALL OF US?” Nigel inquired.
“Yes, sir. In the captain’s cabin. Right away!”
This created somewhat of a stir in the dining room. Everyone was staring at us as we got up from our table and filed out of the room. Luckily, the other people assigned to our table that night hadn’t shown up, so we didn’t have to answer any questions.
The Body on the Lido Deck Page 21