Cold Pressed (16 page)

"Oh, this is not the same. Is this a weaker dosage, do
you know?"

The sister took the piece of paper and the empty carton and
compared. "No, it's a bit stronger if anything. I'm not sure why he'd do
that. Well, today is extremely busy, so I'm going to write Mrs Campbell a
repeat for the time being. I'll keep this and talk to Dr Fraser later, when
we've located these missing files. If we need to change anything, I'll let you
know."

Rose waited while the sister wrote the prescription,
thinking over what she had said. "Is there more than one file
missing?"

"Not really missing. Just been put in the wrong place,
I expect. It happens when we're very busy. Don't worry, everything's on
database, so we can always make a copy. Here you are."

She held out the chit.

"Thank you. On Maggie's behalf as well as mine. I'm
sorry to be a nuisance, but the missing files don't include the ladies who
recently passed on, do they?"

The nurse shook her head. "No, no. It seems we've
misfiled a few under the letter C. Mrs Campbell, Mrs Cashmore and Mr Chester
have all gone walkabout. They'll turn up, don't you worry. Give my best to Mrs
Campbell."

Rather than returning to their suite, Rose went in
search of the casino. She argued with herself all the way, but the voice of reason
drowned out the whispers of self-doubt. And even if they did see her as a
flapping, paranoid old woman, it would be better than not saying anything. She
knocked lightly on the door and waited until the young Greek inspector opened
the door. Although he was very nice and friendly, she persisted in her request
to speak to Detective Inspector Stubbs. He advised her to wait on deck, as his
colleague was conducting an interview. Rose did as she was told and had just
sat down on a deckchair when DI Stubbs arrived. She greeted Rose warmly,
despite looking worn and harassed.

"Thanks for coming, Detective Inspector. I really am
sorry to drag you out of an interview."

"No problem at all. I needed a break. Inspector
Stephanakis says you might have some information."

"It's probably nothing. But it struck me as odd and I
thought you should know. I picked up a prescription for Maggie at the medical
centre this morning. Her file has gone missing, along with a Mrs Cashmore and a
Mr Chester. The nurse thinks they've been mislaid."

The detective nodded and waited for her to continue. Rose
swallowed. "Now normally I wouldn't think twice about something like that.
But the name Cashmore rang a bell. I had a quick look at the passenger list
again and realised who she is. Doreen Cashmore is a member of the Hirondelle
party."

The detective didn't clap her hand to her mouth or go
goggle-eyed. Instead she lifted her face to the sunshine and closed her eyes.
"This weather is sublime. Such a change to rush hour in wintry
London."

"I’ll bet it is. Shame you're here for so brief a
stay."

"I have a feeling it will be just about right for me.
Thanks for letting me know about the ship's medical files. I will check them
myself. No detail is insignificant, and I'm glad you spotted that. How's
Maggie?"

"Better every day. Now it's just the nightmares. She
had a bad night so she's napping as we speak. Most of the ship was up last
night, though. Dreadful crossing. I'm glad we have two days on Rhodes to
recover. We're planning to go ashore tomorrow. It looks like a lovely
city."

"Good idea. Can't miss an opportunity like this and
they say the architecture is worth the trip in itself. Thanks for the tip-off,
Rose. I'll keep you posted."

Rose lay back in her chair as the detective's heavy shoes
clumped along the deck. She'd done her duty. There was nothing in it, she was
sure, but her whole body felt lighter for having relayed her concerns. Now,
time to get back to Maggie.

After the initial explosion, Dr Fraser's bluster and
outrage had blown itself out. The computer records held by the receptionist
indicated that of the 243 registered visitors to the medical centre, only 232
physical files could be located. Those missing included one member of the
staff, German swimming instructor Hans-Rudi Burkhard; retired couple Ken and
Pam Miller, on their second honeymoon; Jonathan Chester, an IT engineer
suffering from burnout; and Maggie Campbell, witness to the death of Esther
Crawford. The others belonged to the six remaining Hirondelles.

Nikos and Beatrice faced each other over the printed
spreadsheet. Her frown carved two deep vertical grooves in her forehead as she
used a highlighter to mark the absent folders. Nikos watched the pattern
emerge.

Beatrice looked up. "I think you're right. Whoever took
the files was in a hurry and grabbed those he wanted, accidentally picking up a
few extras in the process. Look. Deirdre Bowen and Doreen Cashmore, both
Hirondelles, were alphabetically separated from one another by Burkhard and
Campbell. Chester was next to them. And Mr and Mrs Miller happen to be the only
names between Vera Melville and Joyce Milligan. The other two gaps are Nancy
Palliser and Emily de Vallon, the remaining Hirondelles. The person who took
these has no interest in the swimming instructor or the honeymooners or the IT
chap. But I do wonder if Maggie Campbell was entirely accidental."

Nikos lifted his head to look over Beatrice’s shoulder.
"As the one person who actually saw our suspect, probably not. She needs
protection and under the circumstances, I'm not comfortable with using any of
Jensson's crew. I want to ask Voulakis for some support. For her and the
Hirondelles. I think we now have evidence someone is targeting that
group."

She frowned again. "If it is a single individual, and
I'm not sure it is, then Maggie's not the only person to have seen him. The man
in the casino? I could only see his silhouette, but I was a lot closer than
Maggie."

"True. So we need to be very careful. I will act as
protector for you, but we can't ensure the safety of these women without more
officers."

“Would it not make sense to use some of the local force?”

Nikos wrestled with himself. Personal loathing should not
get in the way of an efficient investigation.

“Yes, possibly. I’ll make some calls and see if we can have
at least two uniforms.”

"Jensson won't like that."

Nikos shrugged. "No, but any more deaths and he'd have
to cancel the cruise. His choice."

"He might have to anyway." Beatrice folded up the
spreadsheet. "There are no secrets on this vessel. The news about the
medical centre is all over the ship already, and it's likely to fuel suspicion
and hostility towards Fraser. Nikos, I suggest we take him ashore to 'help with
enquiries'. For his own benefit, and because I strongly suspect more than one
person is involved in these deaths."

"Good idea. Maybe we should offer the same opportunity
to Maggie Campbell? She'd be easier to keep safe on the island."

Beatrice revolved the highlighter pen in her hands, her gaze
distant.

"Beatrice? You don't agree?"

"What? Oh yes, absolutely.” She placed the pen on the
table and stretched as if she’d just woken up.

“Let's get Maggie and Rose off the boat and under
protection. It's better to divide our chickens. I just can't understand where
Maureen Hall fits in. I have to talk to the Hirondelles again. Firstly, to warn
them of the seriousness of this. And to find the connection. There has to be
one. Have we talked to all of them?"

Nikos consulted his notes. "Between us, yes. One woman
I interviewed didn’t actually say anything but I got the feeling she wanted
to."

"Doreen Cashmore."

Surprise at Beatrice's astute guess made him sit up
straighter in his chair. He tipped an imaginary hat in her direction. She
smiled and inclined her head in acceptance.

"Yes. Doreen Cashmore. It’s only an instinct, but I
know she was lying.” He replayed their conversation in his mind. “I wanted to
ask her about Mrs Crawford’s will, but couldn’t recall the word. I asked if
there was anything in her... and she finished my sentence with the word ‘past’.
Why say something like that? She’s another one hiding something, but I don't
think she'll tell me. You might have more luck.”

“I can but try. Perhaps if I talk to her unofficially?”

It amazed him how Beatrice seemed not only on his wavelength
but one step ahead. In a feeble attempt to keep up, he shared his latest
discovery.

“There’s one other thing. Beryl Hodges didn’t get to use
cabin service much in her first few hours aboard, but after she left the
birthday party, she ordered a drink. I checked the records. A glass of warm
milk with a sachet of Ovomalt was delivered to her cabin at 21.49. The cabin
attendant’s name was Vicky Morton. Nothing special about her, apart from the
fact she is the current girlfriend of Andros Metaxas.”

“The tour guide who forgot Esther?”

“Yes. His real name is Andy Redmond. I need to ask some more
questions.”

“We both do.” Beatrice tapped the pen against the back of
her hand. “Where do we go from here?”

“How about this for a plan? I'll call Voulakis and the South
Aegean Force, while you tell Fraser we're getting him off the boat. You find
Maggie Campbell and persuade her and Rose to leave. I'll talk to Andy and his
girlfriend separately. I want to get a feeling for how much loyalty there is.
Talk to the Hirondelles together and ask if they too would like to leave in the
circumstances. Then get Doreen Cashmore alone, while she's feeling scared and
vulnerable. Offer support, a safe place to hide and all the help she needs if
she can just give us some idea of why they are under threat."

Beatrice's smile stretched across her face as she nodded her
approval. "You, Nikos Stephanakis, have all the makings of an excellent
inspector. And a devious human being. Let's go."

Chapter 18

Beatrice and Jensson compromised. He gave permission
for two South Aegean sergeants to come aboard only after Beatrice had agreed
they should operate in plain clothes. The two officers worked with the
Empress
Louise
’s own security staff to identify any crew members without an alibi
for one of the three deaths. It was not a substantial list. Nikos made a rota
of interviews for the sergeants while he escorted a subdued Dr Fraser ashore,
along with Maggie and Rose. The two women had jumped at the chance to leave the
ship and Beatrice detected as much enthusiasm from Rose as from Maggie.

She spent forty minutes trying to persuade Joyce Milligan to
take her Hirondelle party ashore, but they seemed determined to stick it out.
Not only that, but a memorial service was imminent so there was no question of
leaving. The Hirondelles extended a most cordial invitation for Beatrice to
join them.

Under a cloud of reluctance and defeat, Beatrice returned to
her cabin to change into her grey suit. A little on the warm side for this
weather, but suitably sober for the Hirondelles’ memorial service. The
Empress
Louise
had a multi-faith place of worship. No full-time chaplain or priest
was attached, so it operated on an ad hoc basis. Occasional ordained passengers
consented to hold services such as Mass or Shabbos, if sufficient interest
existed.

Joyce Milligan, with indefatigable determination, had rooted
out a Church of England priest willing to say a few words and persuaded a
couple of the entertainment staff to sing some carefully chosen songs for the
two departed Hirondelles.

The ladies were already seated when Beatrice arrived at the
small room on E deck. She made a rough calculation and determined the room
would hold no more than forty people. Currently, it hosted half that number.
Four rows of pine benches took the place of pews and a neutral altar provided a
point of focus. Someone waved. Maggie and Rose were sitting behind the main
party along with half a dozen individuals Beatrice didn’t recognise. She waved
back and parked herself on the end of the last bench so as to observe
proceedings. No sign of Captain Jensson, which she found disappointing. The
priest, Reverend Melvyn Price, had just begun to welcome the congregation when
the door eased open and a man sneaked in and stood by the gauze curtains
flanking the doorway. Toni Dean, the crooner from the Rat Pack Revue. Oh dear,
thought Beatrice, a Sinatra impersonator at a funeral can only mean one thing.

In front of the altar, another low table bore three
photographs, propped up against white wooden cubes. The central picture was a
group photograph of the Hirondelles, in a formal pose, all wearing their
bowls-club style uniform of A-line skirt and peony-blue blazer, with a stylised
swallow on the pocket. To the left, a less than distinct image of Esther
Crawford laughing at the camera. Her short, neat haircut gave her the
appearance of an ancient elf. The picture of Beryl Hodges, on the opposite
side, was better technical quality but lacked atmosphere. Owlish glasses, a
worried expression and standard issue set-and-blow-dry. She looked like half
the occupants of the ship.

The priest, who’d caught a bit too much sun in the past
week, read some endearing memories about each lady and invited mourners to pray
with him. One of the young entertainers sang
Amazing Grace
in a pure, uplifting
soprano. Several of the ladies reached for tissues. None of this breached
Beatrice’s defences. Then Joyce Milligan gave a short reading.

“Not, how did she die, but how did she live?
Not, what did she gain, but what did she give?
These are the units to measure the worth
Of woman as woman, regardless of birth.
Nor what was her church, nor what was her creed?
But had she befriended those really in need?
Was she ever ready, with words of good cheer,
To bring back a smile, to banish a tear?
Not what did the sketch in the newspaper say,
But how many were sorry when she passed away?
”