by Dawn Brookes
“I’m not sure, dear. You should rest.”
“I’ve rested since six o’clock this morning. If I have any more rest, I’ll go spare.” She looked at Marjorie. “If the shoe was on the other foot, you would go.”
Marjorie caved. “You’re right. I would, but should we ask Dr Bentley?”
“Certainly not, he’ll err on the side of caution because he won’t want to be liable. We’ll just go. We’d better not say anything to Sarah until we get there either or she might dob us in.”
“Dob us in? Whatever does that mean?”
“Sorry, I’ve picked up a few colloquialisms. It means tell on us – snitch and the like.”
Marjorie laughed. “Are you ready for some lunch?”
Before Rachel had the chance to answer there was banging at the door. Marjorie let Sarah in.
“Hey, you two. How’s the invalid?”
“Feisty,” answered Marjorie.
Sarah laughed. “I take it she’s being a difficult patient? I’m happy to take over now if you want to go ashore, Marjorie.”
“I am here, you know. What is it when someone has been injured? I still have all my faculties despite receiving a blow to the head. Anyway, it’s more my shoulder that hurts.”
“And your pride by the sounds of it.” Sarah joined them on the balcony.
“We were just talking lunch actually,” said Marjorie.
“Yes, and I insist we go to the buffet because I’m not sitting still for much longer,” said Rachel firmly.
Mario knocked and entered as if on cue. “Lunch, ladies?”
Rachel glared at Sarah. “I suppose this is your doing?”
Sarah shrugged. “Just for today – tomorrow you can be out and about again.”
Rachel shot a warning glance to Marjorie, who looked uncomfortable but didn’t say anything. They ordered food from the room service menu and hot drinks to go with it.
After Mario left, Rachel looked at Sarah. “Before I forget – have you noticed how thin Mario looks? I’m sure he’s losing weight he can’t afford to lose.”
“I didn’t, to be honest – I was focussing on the menu.”
“Well take a peek when he returns. There’s something not right. He looks gaunt and his eyes look too big for his head. I’m sure they didn’t look like that before when we met.”
Sarah looked thoughtful. “Does his hair look thinner?”
“I haven’t noticed, sorry.”
“Okay, but now, back to the patient in hand.”
Rachel sighed. “Well at least tell me if they’ve managed to find out who attacked me this morning.”
“No, Waverley interviewed Gordon who said he’d had a call from someone telling him Shirley was in trouble. He admitted to arranging the diversion and went to meet the person who’d allegedly phoned on the lido deck.”
“I don’t suppose he knows who that was.”
“You’re right – he doesn’t. He said he recognised the voice from somewhere but couldn’t place it and that the person said something like ‘That’s for Mam’ when he pushed him under.”
“How strange,” said Marjorie. “This Gordon doesn’t strike me as the most imaginative of men so I assume you and Waverley believe him.”
“Yes, we do. I also believe him when he says he didn’t kill his brother and I think Waverley has come round to that way of thinking now too.”
“So we’re back to square one,” answered Rachel.
“We’re not back anywhere. You’re not to do any further investigating, Rachel Prince. Let Waverley get on with it.”
Marjorie was about to object, but Rachel shook her head in warning. Sarah had gone into protective mode so it was best not to stress her out just yet.
Mario arrived with the lunch, and while he was placing the trays down and serving them, Sarah, true to her word, watched his every move carefully without him being aware.
“Bon appétit, ladies.”
Sarah followed him to the door and had a quiet word before returning to the balcony.
“Well?” asked Rachel.
“None of your business,” answered her friend.
“That’s not fair.”
“Okay, I’ve asked him to come to surgery to see Alex or myself and have some blood tests.”
“Is it serious? It’s not cancer, is it?” asked Marjorie, looking concerned.
“I don’t think so. From my brief observation and his symptoms, it looks like he’s got an overactive thyroid, but we’ll need to take a history from him and do the blood tests and examine his neck. If it is what I think it is, he should respond well to tablets.”
“Why hasn’t he sought advice, do you think?” asked Marjorie.
“I don’t know. It could be a fear that he’ll lose his job if it’s something serious.”
“Yes, he supports his family in San Salvador, he told me that when I first met him,” said Rachel.
Rachel decided not to ask any further questions about Gordon or Mario, and not to give Sarah any clue that she would still be going to the ballet this evening. Marjorie said she would stay on board today to build up her energy for the outing arranged for the next day and Sarah seemed satisfied with that.
They spent the afternoon playing scrabble in the ship’s library after Rachel managed to persuade Sarah to allow her out for a little while. Eventually Marjorie was able to reassure Sarah that she would keep an eye on Rachel and that she should go and get ready for her date with Jason. Sarah reluctantly left them to it, but the light in her eyes suggested she would quickly get over any feelings of guilt.
“Thank goodness,” Rachel said after she’d left. “I love Sarah to bits, but not when she’s playing mother hen.”
“You can’t blame her for that. She’s worried about you, and for that matter, I am too. Are you sure we shouldn’t just stay here this evening?”
“Oh please, Marjorie. I’m like a caged tiger. It’s fine being on the ship when we’re at sea, but I can’t bear the thought of not getting on land when I can see it through every window.”
“Okay, dear, but I can tell you now: on this occasion, your friend is not going to be happy to see you.”
“She will be eventually when she sees I’m alright.” Rachel answered more positively than she felt and wondered if she was being foolish. Her head ached, but she wasn’t sure if it was psychological, knowing she would be going against medical advice and common sense. But she had committed herself now and wasn’t going to back down.
Entry into Russia had been by far the most difficult Rachel had yet encountered during her cruising experiences, but not as onerous as some had suggested it might be. Once they were through Russian security, the tour guide had gathered them together, and while they were on the bus, had advised them to stay in groups and keep their valuables closely guarded.
“Unfortunately, tourists are often targeted by thieves and criminal gangs, but stay together and you will be fine.”
The guide was about Rachel’s age, her hair dyed ash-blonde and shoulder-length with coppery roots. She had large green eyes and wore dark eyeliner underneath and on the lids, causing them to stand out even more. This was Rachel’s first visit to Russia and she was overly excited at finally being off the ship. From the bus, she observed a vibrant city of people going about their lives. They passed a few landmarks, but Rachel missed the names because of a chattery group in front of her yelling at each other to be heard above the microphone.
“Some people are just plain rude,” whispered Marjorie. “They’ll be the first to complain if they miss out on directions, mark my words.”
Rachel took the old lady’s hand. “Never mind, we’re going to have a lovely evening. I’m so pleased you agreed to accompany me in my folly. Thank you.”
Marjorie raised her eyebrows. “As if I had a choice in the matter.”
When they arrived at the theatre, they were surrounded by traders as soon as they got off the bus. Rachel took Marjorie’s arm to protect her, but did manage to buy a
Russian Fez.
“Dad’s always wanted one of these. I promised I’d get him one.”
She bartered the price down with the assistance of the tour guide, who was also keeping a watchful eye on Marjorie to make sure she didn’t come to any harm.
They made their way inside the theatre and were led to a four-seater booth where an astonished and miffed Sarah was wide eyed.
Rachel hugged her. “Sorry, but I knew you wouldn’t let me come if I’d told you.”
“You should know better,” Sarah said to Marjorie, who looked suitably admonished.
“Don’t blame Marjorie, I insisted. I’ve been looking forward to this for months, so has Marjorie. Her husband had promised to take her the next time they visited St Petersburg, but he died before he could make good on his promise.”
Sarah softened immediately. “I didn’t know or we would have brought her with us.”
“She wouldn’t have wanted to cramp your style.” Rachel smiled as she nodded towards Jason, who was entering the booth armed with drinks.
After Sarah got over her initial gobsmacked shock, she excitedly introduced Jason and relaxed just as Rachel had hoped she would. Sarah rarely stayed annoyed for long. Jason was the perfect gentleman, attentive to Sarah, but making sure that Rachel and Marjorie were well looked after. Rachel liked Sarah’s new beau and hoped the relationship would flourish. For drinks, she stuck to mineral water at Sarah’s insistence, although she wouldn’t have wanted to drink alcohol anyway with the sore head she’d neglected to mention.
The Russians appeared to take their ballet very seriously, shushing and tutting at over-enthusiastic tourists who dared to whisper during the performance. The cast performed Swan Lake, something Rachel thought should have been familiar because she had heard it mentioned so many times, but she soon realised was not at all so. Watching a ballet in Russia struck her as the most wonderful way to spend an evening and her only regret was that Carlos wasn’t there to witness it. He would have looked gorgeous in his tuxedo.
How was she going to tell Carlos she had become embroiled in yet another murder investigation? Come to think of it, why hadn’t he phoned today? The IT wizard on board ship had managed to dry her phone out and get it working again and there had been no messages. Her muddled head wouldn’t allow her to think for too long, though.
She noticed Marjorie wiping away tears from her eyes and realised that she too was thinking of the man she loved: her late husband. Rachel hoped she had done the right thing by bringing Marjorie and that it wasn’t proving too painful. She squeezed the old lady’s arm.
During the break, Rachel looked around to see if she recognised anyone from the ship. There had been a couple of tour buses bringing people to the theatre and she hadn’t recognised anyone on their bus. It was odd hearing Russian spoken all around her and she wondered how Lucretia Romanov, an opera singer she’d met during the previous cruise, and her oligarch boyfriend Vladimir were. He had been planning to propose on the return journey from New York.
I wonder if they’re married.
Her reverie was interrupted by Jason bringing her a fresh glass of mineral water. He was hiding behind a pillar.
“What’s the matter?” Sarah asked.
He groaned. “The stags, I just don’t want to see them tonight.”
“Where are they?” Rachel asked.
“Two o’clock.”
The large group of young men, with young women interspersed among them, was sitting on the opposite side of the auditorium.
“I wouldn’t have had them down as ballet fans,” said Rachel.
“No, but the cheerleaders might be, and bees around the honey pot,” said Sarah.
“Or pigs in muck,” remarked Marjorie.
Rachel had taken out her binoculars and was observing the group to check they weren’t annoying anyone. They seemed remarkably well behaved, considering their history.
“It’s alright, they’re not up to anything,” she reassured Jason. “I can see Dave sporting a large black eye and Tonya hanging on his arm. Exemplary behaviour all round, as far as I can tell. They could have dressed a bit smarter, but other than that you can forget about them.”
“They’ve probably been warned about any run-ins with the Russian police. They wouldn’t stand for any nonsense,” said Marjorie.
“Looking at him close-up, I think Dave looks familiar, but I don’t know why,” mumbled Rachel as she put the binoculars down and concentrated on the stage.
The second half was about to begin.
Chapter 22
Rachel slept fitfully as her shoulder continued to cause discomfort, but when morning came, she was in a sound sleep. The ringing of the telephone roused her.
“Hello?”
“Oh Rachel, I’m sorry, I’ve obviously woken you – would you like to go back to sleep?”
“No, I’m alright. What time is it?”
“Nine o’clock. I waited for as long as I dare, but I know you wanted to join the tour and we need to be dockside by ten.”
“I didn’t realise it was so late. I’ll be with you in twenty minutes. Would you order coffee and croissants to your room?”
“Of course, see you shortly.”
Rachel dived out of bed and into the shower, dressed quickly and was ready in fifteen. The only reminder of the previous day’s injury appeared to be a bruise to the back of her neck extending over the left shoulder, along with the accompanying pain.
Marjorie was waiting cheerfully and looked pleased when Rachel arrived. “How’s the wounded soldier?” she asked, giving Rachel a peck on the cheek.
“Much better, thank you, just a bit of a sore shoulder. I bet you’ve been awake for hours. Have I missed anything?”
“Not really. Sarah called to check up on you but I dissuaded her from phoning your room, explaining you probably needed a lie in. I promised to let her know if you didn’t answer at nine, and she was going to race up here and let herself in. I’ve called to reassure her that you are quite well.”
Rachel headed over to the table and poured herself some coffee while grabbing the croissants and lathering them with butter and jam.
“You know, I don’t think I ate much yesterday. I’m starving.”
Marjorie gave her that frown, telling Rachel without words that she had no idea what it was like to be starving, but refraining from regaling her with a lecture about the starving in Africa as she had on a prior occasion.
Marjorie’s suite looked neat and tidy as always with the large flat screen television displaying CNN with the sound muted. The subtitles didn’t reveal any good news so Rachel chose not to watch. The old lady had dressed smartly in a warm summer dress with a light cardigan over the top. Although this was a spring cruise, the weather had been exceptionally warm.
“You also missed His Lordship this morning. I wouldn’t let him disturb you.”
Rachel realised after a moment’s confusion she meant Waverley.
“Did he say what he wanted?”
“Him, tell a batty old woman like me? No, he said it wasn’t important and that he’d catch you later. I explained we would be out for the whole day. He asked if we could pop to his office after dinner this evening.”
“We?” Rachel grinned.
“I’m sure that’s what I heard, my hearing isn’t so good these days.”
“Your hearing is perfect, but I wouldn’t go without you anyway.”
Marjorie smiled with pleasure at the revelation. She picked up a jacket from the built-in wardrobe and took hold of her handbag.
“It’s time we got a move on.”
Rachel slurped down the rest of her coffee and, with a mouthful of croissant, ran to her room to clean her teeth and grab a jumper and handbag while Marjorie waited anxiously. By the time they’d picked up Sarah from reception and arrived dockside, their tour crowd had already gathered. The guide ticked them off in more ways than one and they boarded the bus taking them into St Petersburg for a shopping trip and some sightseeing.
They were not allowed off ship in Russia except on supervised tours due to visa restrictions.
“Look who’s here.” Marjorie nudged Rachel and pointed to Ray, Dalton, Nick and another man occupying the long back seat of the bus, too busy talking to notice them.
“That must be the new lead singer,” said Rachel.
“Not quite new – remember Nick told us he left previously following a fight with Dominic Venables over a woman. According to Nick, he had more reason to kill Dominic than anyone and had threatened to do so.”
“With the best will in the world, we can’t place him at the crime scene, more’s the pity. I don’t want to know, anyway. Let Waverley get on with it.”
Rachel thought she recognised the new man but couldn’t place him. Marjorie raised her eyebrows and threw Rachel a sceptical look, but didn’t go there.
Instead, she said, “Look who else has joined the tour.”
Rachel took the aisle seat next to Marjorie while Sarah sat across from them. Shirley Venables climbed on to the bus with the same group of women as she’d been with in Tallinn. She looked happy and attractive.
“And just to complete the party—” It was Rachel’s turn to nudge Marjorie, who stood up to find out who she meant. “It’s the stag party and the cheerleaders.”
“Oh dear, I do hope this doesn’t turn out to be a carbon copy of Murder on the Orient Express.”
“More like Seven Brides for Seven Brothers the way they’re carrying on. Anyway, there’s nowhere to hide a body.”
“Behave, you two,” Sarah scolded.
The bus passed some of the more popular tourist attractions before stopping at a bazaar where they could use their luncheon vouchers. The tour guide explained they could then spend an hour shopping in the marketplace, but suggested they didn’t go off alone and to stick to the Government approved souvenir shops.
“That charge treble the price,” remarked Marjorie cynically.
“Don’t worry,” said Sarah. “We’ll wander around the traders’ stalls.”
After the bus dropped them off, they sauntered into the busy bistro to have lunch. On finding a table, they sat down and perused the menu. Rachel saw Shirley heading towards their table.