Cold Pressed (23 page)

A sigh so deep it was practically a groan escaped her. With
the inevitability of the phases of the moon, here was the last part of the
pattern. She wanted James to tell her what to do. He wouldn't. She'd sulk and
then finally, if there was any time left in their hour, she'd face the fact she
had to clean up her own mess. This time, she’d just skip to the end.

"I will separate my ego from my emotions. I will tell
Oscar I made an error of judgement and keep my distance. I'll say nothing to
Matthew and instead engage in a serious conversation about our future. And I'll
stop trying to hide."

James nodded as the speakers emitted a soft sound, waves or
rain or somesuch, but it was the indication that their session was drawing to a
close. "Definite progress, Beatrice. I will ask two more questions, if I
may? The medication?"

"No side effects and so long as I take it at the same
time, the swoops are softer. Still there, but softer."

"Good. Let's keep the dosage the same and talk next
week. You still want to honour next week's appointment?"

Beatrice stood up. "Definitely. I have to go back to
Greece tomorrow but I expect everything to be done and dusted by Sunday. Monday
latest. See you next week and thank you so much."

"You're welcome. You did all the work. One last thing
I'd like you to think about between now and Wednesday. To what extent are your
fears about marrying Matthew related to your fear of becoming Pam? One to chew
over. See you next week and good luck in Greece."

Rush hour had begun and Beatrice battled through the crowds
towards the Tube. Dusk was falling and the gloomy onset of evening mirrored her
mood. Becoming Pam? Where the hell had he got that from?

Chapter 25

DEATH STALKS
THE AEGEAN!

Three women dead, one hospitalised at the hands of the
Cruise Killer!

One of the most reassuring sights is a Chevalier Cruise
Liner sailing majestically along our coastline. These leviathans of the
Mediterranean represent luxury, comfort, five-star service and the best way to
experience the joys of the Greek islands for visitors – and let’s not forget, a
steady source of tourist income for residents.

Strangled in
their beds! Thrown from a cliff!

Since the
Empress Louise
sailed from Athens two
weeks ago, three elderly ladies have been brutally murdered in shocking
circumstances. Two smothered in their beds, another thrown from a cliff top in
Santorini. And last night, the killer tried to strike again. Joyce Milligan,
81, fought off her attacker and rang the alarm, alerting the ship's crew.
Doctors at Sgourou’s Kalithea Clinic say her injuries are serious but she is
comfortable. A source close to the case said the cruise has been abandoned,
with the ship detained indefinitely at the commercial port in Rhodes harbour.
The Cretan Regional Police, who have made little progress with their
investigations despite the support of a British detective from Scotland Yard,
have asked the South Aegean Region for assistance.

Read related stories here...

Nikos dropped his head into his hands and let out a
string of the worst curses he knew. He'd never have checked the
Dimokratiki
news site if the cabin steward hadn't mentioned the story when delivering
lunch. He shoved the paperwork to one side and picked up his phone. Who to call
first? Beatrice couldn't read Greek and anyway she wouldn't touch down in
London for another hour. Voulakis? He should know there was a press leak. No,
the first person he would seek out and speak to would be Xanthou, because
everything about this stank of his involvement. Before he could dial, the phone
rang.

"Stephanakis."

"
Inspector, this is Captain Jensson. Could I ask you
to join me on the bridge at your earliest convenience?"

Jensson's uniform was neatly pressed and his face
clean-shaven, but his eyes showed his exhaustion. He did not look pleased to
see Nikos.

"Inspector, I would have preferred it if the police had
consulted me or the cruise line before going to the press. As it is, my team
must field questions from journalists and families with little information and
no preparation, and the PR damage to Chevalier Cruises cannot be
underestimated. Plus, the information printed is incorrect. The cruise has indeed
been cancelled, but I have orders to sail to Athens this evening so that
passengers can be flown home."

"I had nothing to do with this, I assure you. It must
have come from the South Aegean Region police press department. I apologise on
behalf of my colleagues, because you certainly should have been
consulted."

With a flick of the wrist, Jensson waved aside the apology.
"So the right hand has no idea what the left is doing. Aren't you a force
that’s supposed to work together? It doesn't fill me with confidence that you
will be making an arrest any time soon."

Underneath his tiredness and embarrassment, a boiling rage
seethed in Nikos. Xanthou. This had gone on long enough. Only someone as petty
and self-serving would undermine Nikos and the entire investigation just to
score points.

"Inspector, can I ask what do you intend to do
now?"

"I will speak to the South Aegean Regional force and
ensure all communications are approved by a Chevalier Cruises spokesperson from
now on. I'll continue my research on the HR documents and security records, and
by the time DI Stubbs returns tomorrow morning, I hope to have a suspect in
custody."

Jensson's face was blank. "The ship sails at twenty-two
hundred hours. Please do what you have to do before then." The captain turned
to the instrument panel and addressed the officer operating the map screen.
Nikos had been dismissed.

He walked in without knocking. Xanthou was on the
phone. He gave Nikos the once-over with an expression so supercilious it could
have been pantomime and pointed to the chair with his pen. In no hurry to end
his call, he doodled on his notepad, swivelled his chair to look out of the
window, made weak jokes and laughed at every one.

Nikos folded his arms and waited, running over his speech,
stoking his ire. The conversation, full of affected machismo, finally drew to a
close. Xanthou hung up and focused on his computer screen.

"So, Nikos. Didn't have time to shave this
morning?"

"Shut the fuck up."

Now he had his attention.

"What did you say?"

Nikos laughed. "Oh, stop it. I don't find you
intimidating so drop the menacing looks. Act like an adult for just a few
minutes. Look, I can tolerate all the digs and snide remarks, even if I think
there's something quite sad about you still crowing two years later. Yes,
you're younger than me. Yes, you got promoted before me. Yes, you're Karen's
ex-boyfriend. Get over it. I have. This is not about some puerile jostling for
position any longer. We have to work together to catch a serial killer who is
still at large. And thanks to you, now has the name of the hospital in which
his latest potential victim is still recovering. Going to the press to
criticise the Cretan Regional Force is sabotage. Is your ego that desperately
fragile that you'd rather make me look bad than prevent any further
deaths?"

Xanthou tilted his head to one side in a gesture of
sympathy. "It really is eating you up, isn't it? Jealousy becomes
paranoia."

"Don't patronise me. Who else knows as much about the
case and stands to benefit from bad-mouthing the Cretan police?"

"Well, let's see. The failure of an expensive
collaboration with Scotland Yard has upset a lot of people. Could be the press,
the ship's crew, the cruise line management..."

"The collaboration is not a failure and I know damn
well this leak has your fingerprints all over it!" Nikos stopped, aware he
was shouting.

"If you can't control your temper, I'll have to ask you
to leave my office. The journalist could have got that information from a
number of sources. For the love of God, you only have to hang around the bar of
Hotel Kyrios and buy that drunken doctor a whisky. He tells anyone who’ll
listen how he was wrongly accused."

Nikos hesitated. Dr Fraser had not even crossed his mind.

Xanthou pressed home his advantage. "So, better get
back to that extensive list of suspects, bring them in here and let's start
interrogating. Because to be honest, Nikos, you're wasting my time."

"There are only three suspects, but I'll interview them
on board. The ship sails to Athens tonight, and I'll be on it."

"No. The ship is impounded and will stay in Rhodes
until we make an arrest."

Nikos rolled his shoulders to release the tension.
"This is not your case. You are assisting. DI Stubbs and I make the
decisions. I'm going back to the ship and if I make an arrest, I'll bust my
balls to make sure the suspect is taken to Athens. Or Crete, or even London.
Anything to avoid being hamstrung by you and your ego."

"This may be a bad time to mention it, but I've filed a
report on your mishandling of this case and registered a vote of no confidence
in you and DI Stubbs. Thankfully, your behaviour today confirms my judgement as
correct. Sorry, Nikos, but you just aren't inspector material. I need to make
some calls so I'd like you to leave now."

Nikos sat back, his arms behind his head. "Maybe you're
right. If all I had in my life was my job, I really would consider myself a
failure. Have a good day, Xanthou."

His smile lasted until he'd closed Xanthou's door.

Hotel Kyria had seen better days. The bellboy, smoking
in the shade of the awning, did not lift his eyes from his mobile as Nikos
passed. Inside, the interior decor was what Karen would call 'Louis d'Hotel',
faux grand, ornate, gilt but most of all, dusty. A sign indicated the way to
the bar, which was empty but for a solitary figure with a newspaper and a glass
of orange juice. He spotted Nikos and straightened in anticipation.

"Good afternoon, Dr Fraser. No news yet I'm afraid.
Hopefully we'll make an announcement later today."

The light in the doctor's eyes dimmed and his face sagged.
He suited the shabby atmosphere perfectly, as did the newspaper, a two-day old
copy of
The Daily Telegraph
.

"If there's no news, this must be a social call."
He caught the barman's eye. "Anything for you, Inspector? Spiros squeezes
a mean orange."

"Not for me, thanks. The reason I'm here is to find out
how the press got hold of the
Empress Louise
story."

"The press?"

"It's the lead story on the main Rhodes newspaper site,
Dimokratiki
."

The barman placed a fresh drink on Fraser's coaster.

“
Efharisto
, Spiros.”

 Nikos waited for him to drink and continue.

“Yes, I can say 'thank you' in Greek, but that is the extent
of my knowledge. I've not read the paper or its website, but I heard the
story's out. So you put two and two together and decided the Scottish addict
must have been rambling to some hack."

"On the contrary. In fact I’m sure the information came
from another source. I just need to be able to prove that."

Two young men entered and sat at the bar, each performing an
elaborate handshake with Spiros.

Fraser took a long draught of his juice and licked his lips.
"Chevalier Cruises cancelling this particular trip is a shame for the
grannies. Bit of a bugger for staff and crew, too. Still, the worst they’ll
suffer is a couple of weeks unexpected holiday before the next batch of
pensioners arrives and it all starts over – hopefully with fewer deaths, mind.
The one person who'll struggle to recover from this is Jensson. His captaincy
is tainted and his career is just about over. That man has been a solid friend
to me. Why would I shoot the poor bastard in the foot?"

Nikos inclined his head. "You knew the cruise had been
cancelled?"

"Jensson called earlier today to ask if I wanted to
sail with them to Athens at ten this evening. I refused. I have a flight home
on Sunday and I'm checking into a clinic. I can't help you, Inspector. Yes, I
had the opportunity. Journalists drink here regularly and I drink with them.
You could even say I had a motive. Bitter that my career is over, I wanted to
destroy my friend's. The fact is that I didn't and I wouldn’t. But I how can I
prove that?"

"I think you just have. You know the ship is sailing
tonight. The person who leaked the information didn’t." Nikos rose from
his seat and held out his hand. "Doctor, I wish you all the best."

Fraser heaved himself up and returned the handshake.
"Same to you, Inspector. Listen, I wrecked my own career. Jensson doesn’t
deserve to crash and burn because of some sick bastards who are out to get old
ladies."

“Bastards? You think there’s more than one?”

“I don’t know. But if it is just one man, I hope to God I
never meet him.”

Chapter 26

The 18.39 from Waterloo disgorged its passengers at
Bookham Station just before seven. By the time it had pulled away, the platform
was empty. Commuters hopped into waiting cars or unlocked their bikes or
trotted off up the lane. Everyone had a purpose and knew where they were going.
Beatrice checked the map on her phone and set off through the cool, damp
evening air towards Church Street. Well-lit pavements, people walking dogs, a
hairdresser's, an art gallery and neat front lawns; here was suburbia at its
finest. Fife Way lay to her left and the house was easy to find in the quiet
cul-de-sac. To Beatrice's relief, the lights were on. Repeated calls had
received no response.

She withdrew her badge and knocked on the door. Seconds
passed with no sign of movement within. She knocked again and listened. After
today’s discovery that the adoption agency no longer existed, this was her last
hope. She was bending down to look through the letterbox when a voice behind
her made her jump.