[Lady Justice 11] - Lady Justice and the Cruise Ship Murders Read online

  I glanced at Ox who was obviously in a menu-induced stupor.

  “See anything you like?” I asked.

  “What IS this stuff?” he whispered.

  “Not a clue,” I replied. “I’m afraid you’re on your own.”

  Our wives, by way of contrast, were absolutely giddy.

  At that moment, Den arrived at our table to take our orders.

  Ox leaned over again, “What should we do?” he asked.

  “I don’t know --- maybe the Beef Wellington --- beef and potatoes can’t be all that bad.”

  Ox and I ordered the beef and our wives ordered the quail.

  As soon as Den left with our orders, another man appeared at our table.

  “My name is Alex and I’m your wine steward. Would you care for wine with your meal?”

  I remembered the Pouilly Fuisse stuff from France at fifty-four bucks a bottle. I glanced at Maggie and she gave me a little headshake.

  “No thanks. We’ll pass,” I replied

  Ox got the same message from Judy.

  “Me, too,” he said.

  Then I had an inspiration that later I would regret when Maggie got me back in the cabin. “Alex, by any chance would you have Arbor Mist on your list?”

  Alex looked bewildered.

  “Peach Chardonnay, if you have it.”

  “I don’t believe I’m familiar with that vintage, sir,” he replied.

  “Well you should check it out. You can get it at Wal-Mart for about four bucks.”

  “WALT!” Maggie could see that I was baiting the poor guy.

  Alex just shrugged his shoulders and walked away.

  I’m sure he was thinking, “Bumpkins!”

  Mufti arrived with a basket of assorted breads and a tray of butter pats. Ox and I helped ourselves, just in case the Beef Wellington wasn’t as advertised.

  About that time, the young man that had escorted us to our table arrived with another couple that appeared to be somewhere in their seventies.

  After being seated and draped, the woman spoke, “Good evening. I’m Irene and this is Paul. We’re from Sun City, Arizona. What about you folks?”

  “I’m Maggie and this is my husband, Walt,” Maggie said pointing across the table, “and these are our friends, Ox and Judy. We’re all from Kansas City.”

  “Oh, my,” Irene said, feigning surprise.

  I guessed that she had never met anyone named ‘Ox’.

  Sensing the awkward moment, Judy jumped in. “Actually my husband’s name is George. Everyone just calls him Ox because ---.”

  There was really no appropriate answer.

  “Really? How quaint!” Irene responded. “Is this your first cruise?”

  Maggie nodded, “Yes, the first for all of us.”

  “This is our fourteenth,” Irene said proudly. “Let me just share some of our experiences with you.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Paul roll HIS eyes and slump down in his seat.

  “Our first was to the Caribbean, and let me tell you -----.”

  By the time our entrees arrived, Irene was on cruise #7.

  Ox leaned over and whispered, “What’s the protocol here? Are we supposed to care about all this?”

  Judy must have read his lips, because she gave him ‘the look’.

  Den placed our plates in front of us, but Irene never skipped a beat. “Our eighth cruise to Europe was undoubtedly the best --- blah, blah, blah.”

  I tuned Irene out and focused my attention to Chef Samuelsson’s dinner creation.

  Four sprigs of asparagus and about as many pea pods surrounded a thing that resembled a crème puff. Under it all was some dark, gooey stuff. I figured that must be the Madiera sauce.

  I heard Ox mutter, “I thought there was supposed to be potatoes.”

  Judy whispered, “They’re under your beef.”

  Ox slipped the crème puff to the side, revealing a dollop of white stuff. “This just isn’t right.”

  I did the same and tasted the potatoes. They actually weren’t half bad, but there were only two bites.

  “Try them,” I said. “They’re pretty good.”

  It didn’t take Ox long to finish off the potatoes and he proceeded to attack the Beef Wellington.

  He removed the top layer of pastry revealing a gray paste on top of the beef. He looked questioningly at Judy.

  “That’s the duck liver duxelle,” she whispered.

  I thought that Ox was going to loose his potatoes right there.

  I tried the asparagus and the pea pods. They were both crunchy. I’m sorry --- some things are just ingrained in my psyche --- cooked vegetables are supposed to be soft and soup is supposed to be hot.

  Meanwhile, Judy and Maggie were ooohing and ahhhing over their apricot quail.

  Den stopped by and asked how we were enjoying our meal.

  I handed him the empty breadbasket and asked if we could have a refill.

  Irene had just finished with her narrative of their trip through the Panama Canal when their entrees arrived. The one good thing about the Beef Wellington was that Irene couldn’t talk while she was chewing.

  Den removed our plates and offered the dessert menu.

  Coconut Rice Pudding

  Baked with raisins, ginger, lemon grass, and vanilla bean, served chilled with a slice of fried pineapple

  Den had obviously seen that Ox and I had barely touched our plates. Seeing our downcast look as we checked out the dessert, he gave us a knowing smile. “I think I might be able to find a hot fudge sundae or two if you would prefer.”

  I momentarily feared that Ox was going to leap to his feet and hug the guy.

  “Would you care for coffee with your dessert?”

  “Indeed we would.”

  Den proved to be a real jewel. Over the course of the meal, we had learned that he and Mukti, as well as most of the dining room waiters, were from Indonesia.

  He told us that of the 530-crew members, over half were Filipino and most of the rest were from his country.

  We polished off our dessert and coffee and rose to leave, but Irene wasn’t quite finished with us yet.

  “We’ve so enjoyed sharing dinner with all of you, but I have so much more to tell you. Maybe we can sit together again and I call tell you about our trip to the Mexican Riviera. Wouldn’t that be fabulous, Paul?”

  “Yes, Dear.”

  Reflecting back, I think those were the only words poor Paul had uttered all evening.

  “Maybe so,” Maggie said sweetly.

  “Not a snowball’s chance in hell,” I whispered as we walked away.

  “Shhhhhh! She’ll hear you!”

  It was about a quarter to seven by the time we reached our cabins. Our next activity was the Captain’s Welcome Party in the ship’s huge theatre. I was totally exhausted from our trip and was anticipating an hour of just doing nothing.

  I had just kicked off my shoes when the phone rang.

  I looked questioningly at Maggie. She just shrugged her shoulders.

  I picked up the phone and heard Ox’s hushed voice, “Can you get away for a few minutes by yourself?”

  I looked and Maggie was in the bathroom doing whatever it is that women do when they ‘freshen up’.

  “I think so. Hang on. Maggie, it’s Ox. He’d like to walk around the deck a few minutes and get some air. Okay with you?”

  “Sure, but be back here no later than seven-thirty. We want to get good seats.”

  “Good to go, Ox. I’ll stop by your room.”

  Ox was in the hall by the time I got to his room.

  “We have to hurry,” he said. “I have to be back my seven-thirty.”

  “Me, too. Where are we going?”

  “Just follow me. You can thank me later.”

  The elevator opened onto the Lido deck and Ox ushered me into the big buffet room.

  “Walt, I’m starving!”

  I had to admit that Chef Samuelsson had left me wanting more.

 
; We made our way to the sandwich station and both ordered grilled turkey and cheese Panini’s and topped them off with big slices of chocolate cake.

  At seven twenty-five, we stepped off of the elevator on deck #6.

  “Don’t forget to brush your teeth,” Ox warned. “We don’t want the girls smelling turkey on our breath.”

  As I headed to our room, I had a momentary pang of guilt, but I got over it.

  The Captain’s Party was a smash. We were introduced to the crew as well as the five-piece band and the singers and dancers that would be entertaining us each evening for the next week.

  We returned to our cabin, and in our absence, the room steward had turned down our bed, placed a little dog made of washcloths on the foot beside two pieces of luscious chocolate.

  At nine-thirty, we crawled in bed. The last number that the band had played was running through my head. As my sweetie crawled in beside me, I burped the last remnants of the chocolate cake and felt the gentle rocking of the ship as it sailed northward. Maybe this was going to be a great trip after all.

  At three-thirty in the morning, two figures silently slipped out of room #331.

  At that hour, all was quiet and not a soul was stirring.

  Luke and Gwen Larson padded down the hall until they reached room #415.

  Gwen checked around the corner and seeing no one, nodded to Luke.

  He pulled a device from under his jacket and inserted the card that was attached by a wire into the card slot on the door of room #415.

  The device, supplied to them by Louis French from the University Technology Lab, whirred briefly. There was a small ‘click’ and a green light appeared.

  Luke looked at Gwen who had stepped up beside him. “Ready?” he whispered.

  She nodded.

  They both removed hunting knives from sheaths attached to their belts and slipped into the room.

  In the ambient light coming through the curtain from the deck outside, they saw the two sleeping figures.

  It took but a moment for them to slip on either side of the bed and simultaneously plunge their knives into their sleeping victims.

  The woman cried out, but Gwen pressed her hand against her mouth and plunged the knife again.

  When both bodies were still, they pulled the covers back and wrapped the limp figures in the terry robes with the Holland-American emblem that the ship had provided to each passenger.

  Gwen cracked the door open and looked up and down the hallway. Seeing no one, she returned and the two of them grabbed the first body, carried it around the corner, out onto the deck and pitched it over the rail.

  The splash as it hit the water could barely be heard and with the ship cruising at 15 knots, the body was soon out of sight.

  They returned for the second body, and in less than five minutes, the occupants of cabin #415 were but tiny dots on the open sea as the Statendam steamed ahead.

  They returned to the cabin, wiped the blood off of their knives and pocketed the plastic room cards lying on the dresser. After a quick look into the deserted hall, they pulled the door closed behind them. “One step closer to a fortune in gold,” Luke whispered as they crept quietly back to their cabin.

  CHAPTER 6

  Day #1 at Sea-Cruising the Inside Passage

  When I awoke, I was disorientated. I knew that I wasn’t at home, but nothing around me was familiar. Then I felt the gentle rocking of the ship as it plied the waters of the Inside Passage. I was actually on a cruise!

  Mr. Winkie was standing at attention in response to the message being sent by Mr. Bladder.

  I looked over at my sweet lady and her little snorts told me that she was still in la la land.

  As quietly as possible, I slipped out of bed and into the tiny bathroom.

  When Mr. Bladder was happy again, I donned the terry robe that the cruise line had provided, found my shoes amongst the clutter, plucked my room key off of the desk and silently slipped out the door.

  On my way to the can, I had seen the lush landscape on the nearby shore through our cabin window. I figured that a brisk walk on the deck was just the ticket to get the old constitution revved up and ready for the day.

  When I stepped into the hall, I saw the cabin steward staring at something on the carpet outside of room #415.

  I was about to thank him for the chocolate he had left on our bed when I saw what had caught his attention --- a red splotch just outside the cabin door.

  I knelt down beside him for a closer look and we both came to the same conclusion --- it was blood!

  “I think you should check inside,” I said, and he nodded in agreement.

  He knocked. “Room steward,” he announced.

  When there was no response, he knocked again and announced a bit louder, “Room steward!”

  He waited just a moment and when there was no response, he slipped his master key card into the slot.

  After the gentle ‘click’ and the green light, he opened the door just a crack and peered in.

  He jumped back and exclaimed, “PANGINOON KO!”

  I had no idea what he had said, but the terror in his eyes needed no translation.

  I pushed the door open and saw what had invoked his terror --- blood-soaked sheets on an empty bed.

  People had obviously died in this room.

  Then it occurred to me --- room #415 belonged to Mark and Amy Stewart!

  I stepped back into the hall where the shocked steward had slumped to the floor.

  “Call your security officer --- now!”

  He pulled a walkie-talkie from his belt and rattled off some words into the mike. When he had finished, he listened intently and nodded. Then he said to me, “We wait here --- no go in.”

  I heartily agreed. We didn’t want to contaminate the crime scene.

  Within minutes, two men came running down the hall.

  The one obviously in charge looked at both of us. “Who are you?” he asked addressing me.

  “My name is Walter Williams. I’m in cabin #401 --- and just so you know, I’m a police officer.”

  I could tell that he wished that I wasn’t there.

  “Wait right here!” he ordered, and slipped quietly into the room.

  In a few moments he returned. “My name is Alejandro Reyes. I am the ship’s security officer. We obviously have a situation here.”

  I nodded in agreement. “If there’s any way that I can help ---.”

  He cut me off. “We have procedures in place for contingencies such as this. If you are indeed an officer, then you will understand what I must ask of you.”

  I nodded again.

  “We are at sea and will not reach port until tomorrow. The last thing we need is for this incident to be spread throughout the ship. It could incite a panic that we could not control. I must ask you, as a professional courtesy, to keep this to yourself.”

  I assured him that I would.

  “Very well then, please return to your cabin. We must process the scene before other passengers start milling about.”

  “Certainly,” I replied. “Don’t hesitate to call if ---.”

  He cut me off again, “Yes, of course. Now please return to your cabin.”

  I certainly understood. Back in K.C. it always took a squad of officers to keep the looky-loo’s out of our hair while we were trying to do our job.

  By the time I returned, Maggie was up and about. “Have a nice stroll, Bright Eyes?”

  “Get your robe on while I call Ox and Judy. We need to talk.”

  Ten minutes later, the four of us were squeezed into our tiny cabin.

  “What’s going on down the hall?” Ox asked. “There’s a half dozen people milling around Mark and Amy’s room.”

  “That’s what we need to talk about. I think they’re both dead.”

  I told them what the steward and I had found and what Alejandro Reyes had told me.

  Ox looked out of our window. “We’re somewhere out at sea, so unless the perps jumped overboard, there
’s a killer with us on the Statendam.

  “Sure looks that way,” I said.

  Suddenly, it looked like our peaceful cruise had become more than we had bargained for.

  Although breakfast was being served in the fancy Rotterdam, Maggie and Judy agreed to let us eat at the buffet. In truth, the thought of our new friends being brutally murdered a mere fifty feet from where we slept had dampened our appetites. Mostly we just wanted coffee.

  We climbed aboard the elevator and punched the button for deck 11.

  When we entered the Lido, we were all shocked to see Mark and Amy Stewart wolfing down omelets and pastries.

  As soon as they saw us, they waved. I’m sure they must have wondered about the expressions on our faces. It must have looked like we all had just seen ghosts.

  They motioned for us to join them.

  “We have some good news and some bad news,” Amy said with a smile. “The bad news is that we’re not neighbors anymore. The good news is that we had requested an upgrade and just after dinner last night we moved to cabin #169 on deck #9. We have a balcony now!”

  “Fantastic!” Maggie said. “We’re so excited for you.”

  Now the question that was running through our minds was, “If Mark and Amy are still alive, whose blood was soaking the sheets in room #415?”

  We grabbed cups of steaming coffee and picked a table out of earshot of the other passengers.

  “Now we have a real problem,” Judy said. “Were the folks that were murdered in #415 the intended victims or did the perps think they were actually killing the Stewarts?”

  “Good question,” I responded. “Now the next question is whether we should tell the Stewarts.”

  “Well if it was my old room, I certainly would want to know,” Maggie said.

  “Do you think we can trust them to keep quiet?” Ox asked.

  “Mark is an attorney. I would think he would know how to keep his mouth shut,” I replied.

  “Then let’s do it,” Judy said.

  Mark and Amy were just finishing when we approached them.

  “Good morning again,” I said. “If you don’t have other plans, I wonder if we could find a quiet place where the six of us could talk?”