Cold Pressed (11 page)

She emerged from the sleeping quarters dressed in shirt and
trousers with a towel around her head.

"Oh good, the coffee's here. Right, I'm ready to begin.
Where shall we start?"

Nikos hesitated, but only for a second. "I'd like to
hear what the immediate plans are. Did Jensson confirm the sailing time?"

"He did. The ship has to depart this evening. Their
schedule is extremely tight since the hold-up in Santorini. They must set sail
for Rhodes at midnight. Help yourself to milk and sugar. What about the
body?"

"Taken to the city morgue for a complete post-mortem.
We should have the results sometime later today. Then arrangements can be made
to fly her home. I agree with your initial assessment of the scene. It looks as
if the perpetrator was disturbed. On top of that, I think he was still in the cabin
when the maid knocked. In the time it took her to fetch an access card, he
managed to get out and disappear."

"What makes you say that?"

"I got the printout of the cabin’s card activity.
Inside the room there's a socket, just like this one in yours. After you open
the door, you slot the key card into that socket and all the electricity works.
If the card is removed, the lights don't work. It was removed at 22.08, and
replaced at 22.24." He stirred his coffee. "That's not long to kill
someone."

Beatrice looked up from her croissant. "Long enough.
What about how the intruder got in? Any records on that?"

"A staff access card was used at 22.06. One of many
used by housekeeping. They are not assigned to individuals and if you are a
staff member, they’re easy to find."

They both remained silent for several seconds. Nikos
searched for a way of broaching his thoughts on potential suspects, but first
he needed to know how much longer he would have his British back-up.

"I suppose it was too early for you to contact Scotland
Yard?" he asked.

She chewed and swallowed. "No. I managed to get hold of
Chief Inspector Hamilton, and I'm afraid there's good news and bad news. I am
permitted to stay and work on this case, but the powers-that-be would like me
to take a more active role. What happened tonight has raised the goalposts.
We're talking about a potential serial killer of British citizens, albeit on
Greek territory. My boss would like me to lead the investigation and
unfortunately, he intends to contact your superior officer today."

Nikos tensed his jaw. He should have expected this. Voulakis
would agree, of course he would. In fact, he would be stupid to argue.

"I understand, Detective Inspector Stubbs. But I hope I
can continue to work with you. I'm learning a lot."

"Listen." She dusted flakes of pastry from her
hands. "Depending on what your superior says, this is what I propose. A
collaborative investigation, jointly led by British and Greek agents. Partners,
if you like. I will need your local expertise, but I believe I can bring a
certain amount of experience to bear. What do you say?"

Nerves made Nikos clumsy and he clattered his cup back onto
the saucer. "I say that is a very generous proposal. I would like that
very much."

"But I do have one thing I need to get off my chest. On
my return from the bridge, I met our two witnesses, Mrs Campbell and Mrs Mason.
They were on their way back to their quarters in some state of alarm.
Apparently, you had advised them to stay in their cabins and lock the doors. I
appreciate the good intention behind your advice, but in an environment such as
this, it might be better to avoid generating panic."

Nikos deliberated over what to say, aware of the heat
creeping up his neck.

"DI Stubbs, I asked them to leave the corridor where we
are investigating. I suggested they go back to their cabins, mainly because it
was so early. They were the ones who mentioned locking doors. I can assure you
I was not trying to alarm anyone."

"I see. Captain Jensson has a point. It is terribly
easy to spook a flock like this, especially when they're looking for a reason
to get hysterical. I’m sorry. I had my doubts but thought it best to check. And
one other thing, if we’re going to be partners, can we drop the formalities? My
name is Beatrice."

"No problem. Call Nikos."

"Nice working with you, Nikos." She offered her
hand and they shook.

"You too, Beatrice."

"Now, tell me your thoughts on how we proceed."

He was ready for this and had thought of nothing else since
he'd received the call. "While we wait for the crime scene results, we
research the three deaths on this cruise. We need to find out more about Beryl
Hodges and make one hundred percent certain her death was natural.”

“My thoughts exactly. I will call London and get them to
organise a PM. I hope to God they’ve not buried her yet. Or worse still, she
might have been cremated.”

“If so, we’ll have to look for the information elsewhere.
Next, we seek connections between Esther Crawford and Maureen Hall. I think we
should interview the doctors again, Fraser in particular. I also want to talk
to the captain. Something about that book you mentioned, his deaths record,
makes me uncomfortable. And the ship's security team must have information
about who we can eliminate from the crew by providing alibis. The only
thing..." He tailed off, not wishing to admit it.

"Motive?"

Nikos nodded. "Exactly. I can't understand who would
benefit from killing two elderly women."

"So that's what we need to work out. When we know why,
we will find who."

Chapter 13

None of the infirmary's medical staff had enjoyed an
uninterrupted eight hours sleep, and a large percentage of the passengers found
themselves afflicted that morning by a variety of nervous disorders, requiring
a visit to the morning surgery. Short fuses were to be expected. Dr Fraser's
air of barely contained rage had an oddly soothing effect on Beatrice. The more
he spluttered and swore, the calmer she became. Nikos impressed her by not
rising to the doctor's aggression, and simply restating their requests for
information.

"Just to be clear, the death certificate for Beryl
Hodges was signed by you and Dr Weinberg? Did the other doctor actually examine
her or did you alone determine she died of natural causes?" asked Nikos.

"You have the certificate in front of you! It's there
in black and white! As senior physician and official coroner on board, I have
every right to make a professional assessment without wasting my colleague’s
time. She died peacefully in her sleep. The woman suffered from obstructive sleep
apnoea. She used a CPAP machine at home but didn’t bring it with her. The
condition means you stop breathing for a few seconds during the night, but then
your system, or machine, kicks in and you clear the blockage. If you don’t, for
whatever reason, it causes oxygen deprivation, and eventually leads to
asphyxia. When someone dies of asphyxia aboard, there is always a concern about
insufficient ventilation, or exposure to noxious gases. So I check thoroughly.
Yes, obviously for insurance, but also because I'm a professional physician and
my own reputation is at stake. The truth is the woman was old, she had asthma
and her lungs couldn't cope. Congestion added to the frequent blockage to her
breathing and her system shut down due to a lack of oxygen."

His strident voice and expansive gestures echoed around his
compact consulting room. Nikos wrote detailed comments in his notebook, but
Beatrice kept her eyes on the doctor. His hostility, his easy explanation, his
curious refusal to see a connection made her wary. She studied his manner. His
eyes, with all the warmth of pack ice, shifted constantly between her and
Nikos. He often ran his bony hands through his thick hair, dislodging flakes of
dandruff onto his shoulders. While she and Nikos sat still and calm opposite
him, he shifted and twitched with extraordinary impatience.

Beatrice waited till he'd finished speaking. "We
believe Maureen Hall was smothered. Correct me if I'm wrong, but wouldn't an
obstruction over the face asphyxiate a person in much the same way as sleep
apnoea? Were there any other marks on Beryl Hodges that could support that
theory?"

Fraser rolled his eyes. "How many times must I tell you
people...?”

"Dr Fraser. Sorry to interrupt." Nikos sat
forward, his palms open in appeal. "We are not trying to cause problems
for you. Two ladies died in a similar way, one of whom was murdered. Police
procedure is to seek any connection which leads us closer to finding who killed
Maureen Hall. As we have another suspicious death to add to this case, the job
of the police is complicated and difficult. We want to work with other
professionals as a team, not make enemies."

Fraser considered, his physical fidgeting in abeyance.
"Fair point. It's just this calling of my professional competence into
question... Look, there was no need for a detailed post-mortem on Beryl Hodges.
As I explained, her sleep disorder coupled with asthma explained why she
stopped breathing and I had no reason to look any further."

Beatrice gave a sympathetic smile. "Understood. And as it
was over ten days ago, I doubt you'd remember any unusual injuries."

Nikos shot a sly glance sideways at Beatrice and bent his
head over his notebook.

"The problem with women of that age is their
susceptibility. Their bones are fragile, their balance is unreliable, their
digestive system is inevitably problematic and their skin... their skin can
tell many stories, but we don't know which is which. By that I mean injuries
heal far more slowly than they do in the young, they bruise easily, and often
tend to cause themselves more damage than others."

"By which I gather Beryl Hodges bore some marks you
could not explain?" asked Beatrice.

Fraser ran his hands through his hair once more. "There
was a certain amount of bruising to her face, especially the left side of her
jaw. Any number of explanations for that, so it wasn't worth including in my
report. Cause of death was clear."

"I see.” Beatrice closed her files. “Doctor, can I ask
you, when you have a minute, to think about that incident once again? In the light
of what has just happened, and the pathology report on Maureen Hall, I think it
might be worth turning every stone. Even those already turned."

“Yes, I’ll think about it in the unlikely event I get a
minute. Now I really need to start on the backlog of paperwork.” Fraser picked
up a pen and Beatrice noticed his hands were unsteady.

“Just for the record, doctor. You left the captain’s table
at around quarter to ten. I believe you were called to an emergency?”

“Are you telling me I need to provide an alibi?” His
grey-blue eyes were incredulous.

“Only so we can eliminate you. Or we wouldn’t be doing our
job,” said Nikos.

“There was no emergency. I just had to get away from that
Bartholomew woman. Her accent drove me up the pole.”

Beatrice could understand that. “So where did you go, if you
don’t mind my asking?”

“Back to my cabin. Stayed there the rest of the night.” The
man spoke through clenched teeth.

“Thank you. We’ll let you get on.”

“About bloody time.”

Exhaustion aside, Beatrice’s respect for the young
Greek inspector kept growing. He showed great timing and excellent instinct,
even though he'd been dragged out of bed in the small hours. Nikos Stephanakis,
she decided, was destined for great things.

Beatrice and Nikos split up to interview the nurse, Sister
Bannerjee, and Assistant Physician Dr Weinberg. She sat opposite the weary
little nurse who was so washed out even her bindi looked faded. Beatrice began
her introductory speech.

"Sister Bannerjee, the only reason I am here is to
clarify..."

"Detective Inspector, I am very sorry for my rudeness
and for my disloyalty but I have to tell the truth to a police officer. Dr
Fraser is not a good doctor and makes many short cuts. The routine here is 'P
and PO'. Excuse my language, but this means 'Prescribe and Piss Off'. We have
to push the medicines of our sponsors, encouraging injections and vitamin
supplements and we send our patients away with a packet of pills and no idea of
the root cause of their problems. I have spoken to the captain about this issue
on several occasions, but this whole enterprise is only about making money from
the weak and vulnerable. DI Stubbs, on this ship, something is rotting. Now at
last, it eventually floats to the surface."

The sincere face opposite astonished Beatrice. Beneath the
mask of friendly efficiency lay an anger and passion which had found its voice.

"I see there is a great deal to discuss. But first,
Sister, I have a question regarding Beryl Hodges. Did you happen to see her
body? Dr Fraser tells me there was some bruising to her face."

The horizontal frown lines on the nurse’s forehead
contracted into sympathetic verticals. "I assisted at the medical
examination and yes, I saw the bruising. Chiefly on the left side, on her cheek
and jaw. Older people bruise easily."

"So you didn't think there was anything suspicious
about her death?"

The woman's eyes widened and Beatrice detected a flash of
anger. "Let me guess. He told you about the bruising and the fact she was
asthmatic. Did he say anything else?"

"Anything else regarding the body? No, I don't think
so."

"Perhaps he forgot to mention the Emerade."

Beatrice stopped writing and lifted her head very slowly to
meet the nurse's eyes.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Mrs Hodges had several doses of Emerade in her cabin’s
fridge. It’s an adrenalin auto-injector. People who are at risk of anaphylactic
shock, those with allergies to insect stings or certain foods, need to be
prepared to inject epinephrine or adrenalin directly into their systems to
counter the effects of anaphylaxis.”