Cold Grave (4 page)

He blew on the coffee and tilted his head.

‘When you arrived and saw Lilly, you said, “Please, not again”.’

He straightened and his neck muscles tightened. ‘I shouldn’t have said that; it was unprofessional.’

He downed the rest of his coffee in record time and stood.

‘Have there been any other young women?’

He checked his watch. ‘It was a slip of the tongue. We always have injured people requiring attention. I’d love to stay and chat, but I’m afraid duty calls.’

He backed away and offered a salute. ‘Thanks again for what you and your ex-husband did.’

Loose lips sink ships, Anya thought. If Lilly had been sexually assaulted, she may not have been the first.

Anya decided to go back to the towel cupboard and see if they had missed anything obvious. This time she had her own camera from her bag.

Arriving at the spa, she had to double-check she was in the right place. Instead of being cordoned off, the site was spotless. Towels had been removed and two couples were immersed in the bubbles, laughing and splashing.

A yellow sign cautioned people to take care because the surface was wet. The deck looked as if it had been cleaned with a high pressure hose, small patches of water were glistening in the sunlight.

Anya could barely believe it and felt her anger rise. All chances of finding any further evidence had just been washed away. There was something obscene about a girl losing her life here and people celebrating in the same place within the hour. There were ten decks of places people could go for entertainment and another spa on the opposite side of the pool. Even paying customers should be able to put up with the minor inconvenience of being down one spa for a few hours.

David FitzHarris had said life went on, but he was negligent in his duty if he allowed this to happen to a potential crime scene. Anya felt her face flush more. Maybe leaving his former employment had nothing to do with personal injury.

Someone had been involved in Lilly’s death, intentional or otherwise, and any evidence of their presence had just been destroyed.

3

Anya peered around the open door. Martin sat on a treatment bed. Its base doubled as storage cupboards. Like everything else on the ship, no space was wasted. A wooden cabinet with lockable glass doors contained a myriad of medications, overhead cabinets contained equipment for minor surgical procedures, and an adjustable light was positioned above the treatment bed. Behind it, mounted on the wall, was a blood-pressure cuff and a suction bottle. Not built for comfort, the bed was two-thirds normal length and Martin’s legs dangled over the side. A round bandaid was adhered to the inside of his elbow.

‘Not exactly the morning we had planned.’ He jiggled one leg, something he did when nervous.

Anya smiled and leant against the cabinet. ‘In a way it was lucky you found her and that we were there to help.’

Even so, there was nothing lucky about what happened to Lilly.

‘You know, I got tired of all the death and drama, but you’ve always been drawn to it.’

Anya stood upright, bracing herself for another argument about the effects of her work on their son. ‘That’s hardly fair—’

‘Annie, wait.’

The leg stopped jiggling.

‘This time I’m not blaming you.’ He peeled off the Band Aid and revealed a small bruise. ‘I went into automatic when I saw her lying there. It was as if I’d never been away from nursing. I didn’t even think about the risks.’

This was a side to Martin she had not seen for years. ‘I’m sorry you got the . . .’ she gestured around her mouth.

‘I’m not. It was worth it if it meant saving that girl’s life. You know what Ben means to us; she meant the same to her parents.’

Anya leant forward but the distant click of a door interrupted. It was soon followed by the sound of crying out in the corridor. Quiet sobs punctuated mumbled female voices; Lilly’s family.

Martin looked to the door as the sounds faded. ‘I was never any good at dealing with the relatives.’

‘That isn’t true. I remember the ninety-year-old woman who had a stroke one Christmas Eve and was unlikely to live.

‘She and her husband had been inseparable for over sixty years. He’d been by her side for days, and a decision had to be made about whether to switch off the ventilator.’

‘I remember.’ Martin half-smiled. ‘They desperately wanted kids, but it didn’t happen for them. They were each other’s world.’

‘Even though treatment was pointless, you talked the doctors into keeping her alive until Boxing Day, so they had one last Christmas together. That was kind.’

Anya thought she saw his eyes glisten.

‘He was so grateful for having the chance to say goodbye, his way.’

Karen knocked and pulled up a mobile stool. Her eyes were dark and she appeared drained. ‘I’ll send your bloods off. We can do some tests on board, but not all the HIV or Hepatitis antibodies.’ She paused. ‘If there are no questions, guess you’re done.’

‘How are you doing?’ Martin asked her.

Karen cleared her throat. ‘So far it’s not your average cruise. Our team has three nurses, but our second doctor had to disembark in Honolulu. His wife went into early labour, so we’re a doctor down until Fiji.’

‘Do you get a lot of deaths onboard?’ Anya asked.

‘I worked in Emergency for more years than I care to remember so I’m used to it. My husband and I loved water and planned to sail around the world when we retired. Died from a stroke eight years ago.’ Karen lowered her hazel eyes. ‘Since the kids were grown, I thought I’d see a bit of the world. We get a lot of passengers coming back for their twentieth or more cruise. The regulars become a bit like family. It’s the young ones . . . they’re the hardest. Enough moping. I’ve got some patients to check on, so better get moving.’

‘Can we at least get you a tea, or coffee?’ Anya offered. Her mother, a family doctor, often lamented the lack of opportunity to pause and refocus following an emergency.

Karen slapped both thighs and arose. ‘I’m fine. Paco, our steward, looks after us pretty well. If I get desperate, I can always break into the jelly bean jar.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Thanks again for your help this morning.’

For this nurse, there would be no time to debrief or come to terms with what she had just dealt with. No time-out. The next patient had no need to know what had happened, and expected all of Karen’s attention. Life went on.

As Martin and Anya left the medical centre, he paused. ‘Annie, this is going to sound so callous, but I got the rush. You know, that adrenalin buzz when it’s life and death and you can’t afford to mess up?’

She knew exactly what he meant. It was what drew certain personalities to emergency medicine.

‘I hardly even thought of Ben – saving that girl had to come first.’

This was a side to her former husband Anya hadn’t seen for many years.

Leading up to and following the divorce, he had openly resented her dedication and commitment to work. What he hadn’t ever appreciated was that when he gave up nursing, she had to work hard to support them. She had no choice.

Maybe Martin had begun to see things from her perspective.

He patted the crease of his elbow. ‘It’s eight o’clock. No wonder I’m starving.’

Heading to the lift, they caught sight of the backs of what she assumed was Lilly’s family, accompanied by Doctor Novak.

Four women huddled together, arms around each other in comfort, heads lowered. One turned around and, despite the long hair curtaining part of her face, she could have been Lilly’s twin. Anya and Martin stepped back, not wanting to intrude on their grief.

They took the next lift to deck nine and located a restaurant. Inside, a queue divided into two, one each side of a self-serve buffet. The sound of knives clinking on plates and animated conversation filled the area. A Filipino crew member handed each of them a melamine plate. The smell of bacon was too tempting to ignore. Anya had to admit she too was now hungry. Waffles with various syrups, eggs – scrambled and poached – ham off the bone, cooked beans, pastries, fruit and yoghurt all looked tempting. She chose small portions of fruit and drizzled maple syrup over a waffle.

Judging by the pile on Martin’s plate, he was ravenous. She wondered if he had missed anything on offer. A server poured them each a coffee from the machine. Anya added a glass of water. They found an empty table inside, next to the windows.

As Martin began to eat, Anya glanced around. Most of the children devoured doughnuts and pastries, while the parents preferred the hot food. Cereal and fruit seemed the least popular. One frazzled mother tried to coerce a toddler to eat some egg, with little luck. The father was reading a magazine and seemed oblivious to his wife’s plight. The child stuck his hands in some ketchup from the plate and smeared it over his shirt.

Martin pointed his knife in the family’s direction. ‘The husband thinks he’s a hero for giving her a break, but he begrudges the expense. She wants to get away so he will spend some quality time with his son. Despite room cleaners and cooks, the mother’ll stress because they’re out of their normal routine. Junior’s already fussy about food, and my guess is he won’t sleep well, so Mum’s in for a rough time.’ He placed some egg and ham on his fork as the toddler began to scream. ‘Dad thinks he’ll get sex as thanks for the holiday, but not with Junior in the room and her all stressed out . . .’

Anya took a bite of fresh pineapple and stared at her former husband in disbelief.

‘When did you develop that sort of insight?’

He grinned. ‘You learn a lot as a stay-at-home father. Playgroups are a real eye-opener. You know how women like to vent at those things.’

Anya didn’t know. Through no fault of her own, she had never been to one. She felt her resentment at the situation flare. More than anything, she had wanted to spend time with Ben, but part-time work wasn’t feasible. When the magistrate awarded custody to Martin, the primary carer, she was shattered. The judge argued that Ben was better off with the stay-at-home parent, rather than a nanny. It also meant that Martin didn’t have to work. He could surf and ‘find himself’ to his heart’s content.

The irony was that Anya had been the reliable and responsible parent, but that made no difference in court. She had to work even more hours to pay for two homes. Only Martin now had a girlfriend, which further complicated the situation.

She managed to suppress her anger though – she knew it was important to Ben that they got on and so far things had been going well.

‘How’s Nita? I didn’t even ask how she felt about you coming away.’

A large man tried to squeeze past, accidentally bumping Anya’s back. He held two plates stacked high with food.

‘She thinks Ben should spend more time with you. And the time away from us will be good for her. She’s been offered a job in London, and doesn’t know if she’ll take it.’

Anya paused, shocked. Ben had grown fond of Nita, and the relationship seemed mutual. She and Martin had been together for two years and, although not living with them, she was a frequent visitor to their home.

‘Does Ben know?’

‘I’m not that thoughtless,’ Martin snapped.

Anya glanced at the nearby tables in case anyone else had heard.

Martin sighed. ‘What I mean is, there’s no sense upsetting him until we know for sure. This trip of yours couldn’t have come at a better time, to be honest.’ He stabbed a hash brown with the fork.

Anya wanted him to explain why, but experience had taught her probing would only irritate him. He would open up only if and when he was ready. At least she understood better why he had been so eager to come on the trip.

Four men in their twenties staggered in, looking as if they’d slept in their clothes. They walked past the food line and into the dining area, as if looking for something better.

‘This boat is awesome!’ one shouted and raised his arms as if expecting a chorus of agreement. Some of the diners laughed, others kept eating.

‘Has anyone ever seen so many hot chicks after a good time?’ Sunglasses were fixed to the friend’s eyes. ‘So where do they keep the champagne cocktails?’

‘I don’t feel so good,’ the third one said. His shirt was clearly inside out. Without warning, he ran toward the exit, hand to his mouth. His friends laughed then disappeared out the balcony door.