by Dawn Brookes
I wonder if he’s quizzing Ray about filming the fight.
A couple approached the band’s table from behind Waverley, but when they saw him, they turned and walked away. Rachel watched them meander round the customer services area looking at papers, but now and then they would surreptitiously glance over to the table where Waverley was seated.
Curious, she thought. She took out her phone and pretended to read from the screen while snapping a photo of the couple, whom she hadn’t seen before, and then a short video of their behaviour. They whispered to each other before rushing off downstairs, presumably to vacate the ship.
Sarah finally arrived, wearing mufti for the land outing. Her eyes were still slightly swollen, suggesting she had likely cried again last night over Pickles. Rachel stood and hugged her, squeezing her arm at the same time.
“Where’s Marjorie?”
“She’s got a migraine, so she’s gone back to bed.”
“Oh dear, does she need any tablets?”
“No, she’s brought her own along with her and has taken two. I did offer to stay, but she said she’d rather sleep it off. Mario’s going to check in on her at lunchtime.” Rachel noticed out of the corner of her eye the band heading downstairs. “How are you?”
“Better, thanks. Still sad, but I don’t get that much time to think. It is for the best – I wouldn’t want him to suffer, and he had a long life.”
“Miss Prince, Nurse Bradshaw.” Waverley spotted them and Rachel detected a note of irritation in his formal address.
“What have we done this time?” she whispered to Sarah.
“Pardon?” said Waverly.
“I said, ‘Is that the time?’ We’re taking a trip today.”
“Hmm.” He knew she’d said something completely different, but didn’t pursue it. “I’ve just been speaking to members of that tribute band. Funny how you’re always around when I’m carrying out my enquiries.”
“Sarcasm doesn’t become you, and for your information, I was waiting for Sarah, who has just arrived. Yesterday, you gave me and Marjorie permission to speak to the men in the band – not that we’ve had any more opportunities with all the other goings on.”
“In that case, I apologise. Have a good day, ladies.” He marched off towards the rear stairs.
“He’s insufferable sometimes. Yesterday we were included and today he’s giving nothing away.”
“Perhaps as well, Rachel. He can see your cogs turning as well as I can. He knows you won’t let it go, but what say we go and join our tour before we miss the bus?”
Sarah laughed. She did seem brighter.
Not totally put off, Rachel continued while they walked down a deck to the exit.
“Waverley was talking to the band and some women with them in hushed tones. I expect he was asking about Ray filming the fight yesterday. In spite of what he says, they have to be high on his list of suspects, along with Gordon. I also spotted a couple I’ve not seen before behaving suspiciously when Waverley was with the group.”
“Oh no,” Sarah groaned. “You’re not going to stop until you’ve got to the bottom of this, are you?”
Rachel grinned, and then turned serious. “To be honest, I am having second thoughts. I don’t want all the excitement to make Marjorie ill – I forget sometimes just how old she is.”
“I’m above telling you I told you so, but I did.”
Rachel took her friend’s arm. “I know. On a different subject, how’s that young man, Dave?”
“He was kept in the infirmary overnight as a precaution. Graham needed to ensure there were no complications from the battering to his head. I suspect he also wanted to make sure news of the attack didn’t spread like wildfire. His name’s Dave Hughes and he’s going to be the best man at the forthcoming wedding. He organised the stag do, I discovered. He needed some glue to his forehead and I’m sure he’ll have a black eye this morning, but other than that, he’ll recover. He even joked later on that he’d had worse on the rugby pitch.”
“That explains his nose shape,” said Rachel. “I thought it looked like it had been broken.”
“Yes it has, but not yesterday, thankfully. That young cheerleader stayed with him for a few hours before rejoining her friends.”
“Tonya,” said Rachel, absentmindedly. “Do you imagine he’ll sue?”
“I doubt it. The cruise line offers generous compensation for injuries aboard and they’ll want to settle out of court if it comes to it.”
They passed through security and found the group they would be with for their tour milling around at the side of the dock.
“That’s Gordon’s wife,” said Sarah, “with the group over there.”
Rachel recognised some of the dancers from the performance she had watched with Marjorie last night. Sarah had worked the previous evening, so Rachel and Marjorie had met up with Ron and Mabel, the elderly couple from Texas, and gone to the theatre together.
“Which one is she?”
“The one with the black bob.”
Rachel saw a pretty woman, about the same height as her, wearing yellow cotton trousers and a tight fitting patterned vest with yellow speckles. She stood tall and straight and was wearing sunglasses that disguised her eyes.
“She doesn’t seem the type to be snogging her brother-in-law.”
“Pray tell me, what does the type look like?”
“Good point.” Rachel chuckled. “Not like her, though. I wonder if Dalton is making it up.”
“If that’s the case, why would Gordon have attacked Dave yesterday?”
“I’m keeping an open mind. We need to talk to her.”
Sarah put her arm through Rachel’s and led her towards the coach that was now boarding.
“So much for my nice day out,” she sighed.
They found two seats, Rachel keeping one eye on the dancers, paying particular attention to Shirley Venables. Sarah nudged her, giving her a disparaging glare.
The tour leader introduced herself before describing the highlights of the tour as the coach made its way out of the dock and off to its destination. Rachel sat back.
“Sorry. You’re right. Let’s just have a nice outing.”
Sarah smiled back, but her eyes said she wasn’t convinced for one moment, and Rachel knew her friend was right.
They meandered along cobbled streets, taking in the sights and sounds of a new country. Sarah had an SLR camera with her, being an amateur photographer, and stopped whenever the opportunity to exercise her creative skills presented itself. Rachel didn’t mind; she was pleased to see her friend happy and was well aware of how hard Sarah worked as a cruise ship nurse. It was important for her to have some down time as a tourist herself.
The streets were idyllic, or would have been if they weren’t packed with cruise passengers. The locals were friendly and welcoming – the tour guide had explained that tourism was an important source of their income.
“Rachel, sit on that wall,” Sarah directed, having spotted an attractive fountain with a church entrance in the field of vision behind. The sun was sending speckles of light through the leaves of a large willow tree to their left, and even Rachel recognised the ideal photo opportunity. She finally settled into the right position after numerous attempts that weren’t quite right for her friend’s eagle eye.
“I’m beginning to realise how a bride must feel on their wedding day!” Rachel rolled her eyes as she had to make yet another adjustment – her bag wasn’t in the right place for Sarah, aka David Bailey.
“You still owe me for making me break every rule in the book on the last cruise, so don’t you dare moan!”
“Now you’re lowering yourself to emotional blackmail.” Rachel laughed.
“Like you didn’t use that as well!”
“Okay, you win. I know when to quit, just get it over with so we can have some lunch. I’m starving.”
Sarah was right: Rachel had led her friend astray during her last cruise and put Sarah at risk of losing he
r job, something she had regretted immediately afterwards.
They bantered some more while Sarah took a range of casual photos. Just as she was about to put the camera away, the dancing group walked up the hill behind her.
“Would you mind taking a photo of the two of us?” called Rachel, making eye contact with the woman Sarah had identified earlier as Shirley Venables. Sarah shot her a warning glance. “What? It will be nice to have a photo together.”
Sarah’s eyebrows headed towards the sky as Shirley stepped away from the crowd.
“Sure, I’d be happy to,” she said.
Funny, Rachel had presumed she was English, but the accent was German. Rather than trying to teach Shirley how to use the SLR, Sarah handed her a mobile phone to take the picture with, and then joined Rachel on the wall. The others in the crowd stopped and waited.
“Don’t worry,” said Shirley. “I’ll catch up with you.” They gladly walked on, laughing and joking after nodding or saying hello to Sarah.
After taking a couple of photos and showing the results to Sarah for approval, Shirley handed over her own mobile phone so Rachel could take a photo of her by the fountain. Rachel couldn’t resist the temptation to take a quick scroll through Shirley’s other photos once she had snapped a couple, while Sarah chatted amicably with the woman. After the photo shoot, they all headed in the direction the other dancers had taken.
The dance troupe had stopped at an outside café. Shirley rejoined her group.
Rachel nudged Sarah and mouthed, “Appointment!”
Sarah shook her head before leading Rachel away.
“Come on, Sherlock, let’s get some food inside you.”
“Did she say anything important?” Rachel asked.
“Yes, she told me her life story, and then confessed to having an affair and to her husband killing his brother – case solved, all in the three seconds we had!”
“You know, sarcasm doesn’t suit you – you’ve been spending too much time with Brigitte,” Rachel giggled.
They walked arm in arm down the cobbled road, laughing and joking until they found another café where they sat at an outside table and studied the menu.
“Right, seeing as you’ve dragged me away from our investigation, what do you recommend that’s traditionally Estonian?”
Sarah gawped. “Our investigation? There’s no ‘our’ about it.” Her eyes caught Rachel’s teasing smirk and she burst out laughing.
“I’ll tell you what I found on the mobile phone after lunch.”
“Rachel Prince – you didn’t? Well don’t tell me anything at the moment, I’m too hungry. We must have walked for miles. My feet are killing me.”
“Well you will wear DCs when walking through cobbled streets.”
Sarah looked down at her feet. Although her shoes were lovely, the soles were not suitable for the type of walking they had been doing.
“Okay, Miss Practicality, I wondered why you were wearing sturdy shoes on such a hot day. How was I to know you were going to drag me round every street in Tallinn? We are supposed to be on a bus tour.”
“Yep, a bus tour marked as including moderate exercise, the brochure said.”
Sarah picked up the menu and chewed her bottom lip as she did when she was concentrating. Rachel was delighted her friend was back to her normal bubbly self.
“So what do you recommend?”
“The last time I was here, I had a traditional dish with anchovies.”
“Okay, anchovies with what?”
“On your menu, third down, Kiluvõileib – that’s what I had. It’s like an open sandwich made with whole anchovies, eggs and homemade rye bread.”
“That sounds good, I’ll try it.”
The waiter appeared and they both ordered the traditional Estonian dish along with lemonade.
“I confess, I do cut the heads off the anchovies,” whispered Sarah.
“You won’t be alone there,” replied Rachel
.
Chapter 14
Marjorie awoke to a darkened room. Wondering where she was, she lifted a heavy head from the pillow before realising she was on a cruise with Rachel. Her hand automatically went to her head on remembering she had taken tablets to relieve a migraine. The pain had eased, but had left her feeling groggy.
She reached for the glass of water on the bedside table and reluctantly switched on the overhead light. After blinking a few times, she felt relieved to find the light didn’t irritate her head. Mario had instructed her to call him on waking, so she did so.
The eager butler arrived within seconds as if he’d been hovering outside her room.
“Lady Snellthorpe, I worry about you.” He smiled sincerely. “Would you like me to open the curtains?”
“Perhaps just a little, please. The room is very dark with them closed, but that’s what helped me to sleep.”
He walked to the far end of her bedroom and pulled the cord. The heavy full-length drapes opened a couple of feet, allowing light into the room.
“How are you?”
“Much better, thank you. The codeine in those pills made me a little woozy, but it will pass. I’ll take the next dose shortly.”
“Can I get you anything to eat, ma’am? It’s past midday.”
“No thank you, just coffee for now. I’m afraid these migraines make me feel sickly. I’ve got a few biscuits to munch with my pills.”
After drinking coffee and taking a second dose of tablets, Marjorie felt well enough to get up. Donning a pair of light sunglasses, she left the room to go for a stroll. Mario had insisted on fussing and she’d had quite enough of his attention.
I expect Rachel put him up to it.
Marjorie looked at her watch: two o’clock. The ship was much quieter than usual, it being a port day, as the majority of passengers and some crew were enjoying the day on land. Others took advantage of the opportunity to stay on board and sit in peace on sun beds, often oversubscribed during sea days.
After breathing in the fresh air, she headed up to the Sky View Lounge where she anticipated it would be relatively quiet. The noise of children screeching as they played in the pool grated, despite being a sound she usually enjoyed. This seemed to be the only hangover from the migraine, reminding her it had not quite gone completely.
The enclosed Sky View was predictably peaceful with just a few dozen people scattered throughout its considerable expanse. She found a settee to park herself on and watched another cruise ship leave the port. People stood on the decks, waving to anyone who would wave back while their ship departed. Marjorie briefly wondered whether their ship was heading to St Petersburg as the Coral Queen would be doing later that evening.
A waiter brought her a pot of tea. Another reason Marjorie liked the Sky View Lounge and the atrium café was that they served tea in a pot rather than a mug. There were many things she had learned to tolerate in the modern world, even possessing a mobile phone, but a teabag in a mug was not one of them. Tea has to brew in a teapot and be poured at the right moment into a matching cup and saucer, preferably china rather than the white pottery that had been placed in front of her, but at least it was not a mug.
She smiled at herself.
Marjorie Snellthorpe, you’re being a snob.
And on this point, I am happy to be so, replied her alter ego.
Sipping her tea, she heard familiar argumentative voices shattering the peace. Tutting at having her tranquil surroundings invaded, she sat forward to put herself in a position where it would be easier to rise from her seat.
“Lady Snellforpe, you’re not leaving, are you?”
Timmy, was it?
Jimmy sat himself on the chair to the side of the settee, blocking her escape route.
“I was just wondering if you’d given any more fought to booking us. The lads are getting snapped up quick wiv bookings.” He pulled a diary out of his pocket, reinforcing his point. “Now what date – October, weren’t it?”
“Rachel’s birthday is in October,
but Mr Walker, I’m afraid I cannot commit to a booking until I’ve met the new lead singer and Rachel has heard him sing.”
Not to be put off, Jimmy continued, “Mere formality, Lady Snellforpe – she’ll love the new lad wiv the band.”
“She may well,” Marjorie spoke firmly, “but until she has seen and heard them together, I will not be making a booking.”
Noticing the band manager’s balloon deflating, Marjorie patted him on the arm.
“Would you like some tea?”
“Nah, don’t drink the stuff, mineral water’s fine for me.”
Please would be nice.
Marjorie caught a waiter’s attention and ordered more tea for herself and the water for the disappointed manager.
“Do you have any further information about the unfortunate death of your other lead singer, Mr Walker?”
“Not really. They still don’t know whodunit, but I fink they might have arrested his bruvver, Gordon. That’s what I ’eard from ’is wife anyway.”
“Oh dear. Do you think it was him?”
“I don’t fink Gordon could punch ’is way out of a paper bag, Lady Snellforpe, let alone kill ’is bruvver.”
That’s not what I heard, she thought, but continued, “Why have they arrested him then?”
“Not sure, I fink he got into a fight wiv some young geezer, so Ray says. I fink Dalton’s made it worse telling everyone Dom was ’aving an affair wiv Gordon’s wife.”
“And you don’t believe that’s likely?”
“Who knows? Dom certainly put it about a bit – tried it on wiv every bird ’e met. Even tried it on wiv my wife.”
“Really? How upsetting.”
“Yeah, she told ’im where to go then told me straight away. I was angry, I can tell you that for a fact. He’s lucky I didn’t kill ’im myself. Trouble is, you’d be spoilt for choice wiv the number of people who would have liked to see ’im dead.”
“Does that include you, Mr Walker?”
Jimmy scratched his balding head for a moment, rubbed his nose and bit down hard on his chewing gum – a nasty habit Rachel had remarked upon.