To Murder Matt (14 page)

The following week, Veronique followed Dean to his car, which was a lovely shiny black Porsche, the doors clicked unlocked and he opened the door for her to get in. She slid into the seat, aware that her skirt rose up as she did so. The cream suit accentuated her bronzed tan. Closing the door, Dean walked around the other side and got in beside her. As he started the engine, he briefly smelt her perfume through the aircon as it circulated the cool air. On the way to the meeting, they discussed the client, a wealthy Greek businessman called Mr. Philippou. They were meeting him at a hotel he was staying in. A hotel with sprawling grounds, palm trees that swayed in the breeze with their long branches swaying majestically, slow and graceful fanning the warm air. Dean drove up to the front and handed his keys to the valet.

Inside the cool and quiet foyer of the hotel, Veronique was aware of her heels as they tapped on the polished marble floor as they crossed to the reception. Her heart was pounding furiously, she was aware that she had to make a good impression on the client and also Dean. They were guided to a small private elevator and as she got in, Dean automatically took her elbow to guide her. She flinched.

“Please don’t.” She looked down to her elbow and he quickly removed his hand, looking away as he did so.

The elevator doors parted silently and before them was a light and spacious room. Beautifully carved mahogany chairs stood against the walls, their rich velvet and silk upholstery matching the deep red silk rugs that were scattered about the marble floor. In the centre of the room was an ornate carved wooden table in a matching deep mahogany, a bowl piled high with cascading fruit was the centerpiece and took pride of place. The whole room had an oriental feel to it. Sheer white curtains wafted in the breeze from the open door to a balcony, their movement reminiscent of the waves upon a shore. A manservant showed them to an adjoining room that was far more informal. She walked over to the sofa, which was wonderfully comfortable and molded itself around her as she sank into its softness. Veronique was delighted she had worn her cream Chanel suit today; she fitted into the surrounding opulence beautifully. It was as though she had dressed to compliment the room. She smiled as a tea tray was brought in and placed before them on the table.

A small figure of a man walked in wearing a cream linen suit, his stocky build disguised by excellent tailoring. His once dark hair was now a salt and pepper mix. He was very alert and his eyes continually darted around the room, both when he spoke and also when he listened. His accent was very thick and Veronique leant forward to hear his clipped English. He was looking to charter a yacht for each of his extensive party plus one for himself and closer friend, but his look of dissatisfaction told her they were not meeting his requirements. Dean brought out additional brochures for him to view. Veronique who had been quiet until this moment, suddenly spoke to him in fluent Greek. She could see he was visibly surprised. He regained his blank look seconds later.

“Mr. Philippou,” she continued, “tell me exactly what you are looking for so we can match your specifications exactly.” Mr. Philippou had assumed she was a secretary until now and had practically ignored her. Now, he wasn’t so sure. She had such confidence and his interest was aroused. Dean looked at her and watched her with barely concealed surprise, suddenly realizing that he was no longer in charge and hoping she wouldn’t mess up the meeting. He had no idea what she had said. The client then spoke in English so that Dean could understand too.

“I want a one-hundred meter yacht. Six floors, a crew of about thirty for my fourteen closest friends and I and I want a few other yachts, less impressive, of course, for my entourage. I want to go sailing for a few months this summer.”

“How many other yachts? And how many people in total?”

“My staff, they must come too, in case I need them to work whilst I am away. I need a few yachts for my family and one for each of my mistresses and their friends.”

Veronique held out a few of the brochures. She took one from the bottom that Dean hadn’t shown him. “This one here, has everything you are looking for.” Dean raised his hand to interrupt her.

“I cannot offer this one, it has a preliminary booking,” he said to her. Veronique looked at him.

“Dean, if the King of Spain wants this yacht he will have to wait his turn. Mr. Philippou's requirements are for this yacht.”

“The King of Spain wants this yacht?” Mr. Philippou asked, as he looked closer at the brochure. She looked to Dean, who was shaking his head.

“Yes, I am sorry to have broken your client confidentiality, Dean.” Turning back to her client, Veronique continued speaking.  “It will mean that we will have to reschedule the King to have the yacht after Mr. Philippou, or in fact we will have to arrange another yacht for him.”

The Greek before her, puffed himself up, feeling the importance of being placed, if only in words, above the King of Spain. It was just too much and something he had to do.

The thought of taking the yacht, right from under the nose of the King of Spain, was just too much of an attractive temptation for Mr. Philippou.

“I’ll take it and I will take the other six yachts for the same period for the rest of my party. Kindly draw up the papers and I shall sign them before you leave. The funds will be in your bank by the end of today. My budget for this is twenty million pound sterling. Make sure it doesn’t exceed this figure.” Mr. Philippou stood up and started to walk away.

“I’m sorry Mr. Philippou, but the King of Spain was paying this for only the two weeks we can’t break an agreement for less.” Dean’s eyes flashed angrily. She was just about to blow the whole deal. He was already having invisible palpitations at the fact she had brought twenty million to his coffers in a less than thirty minute negotiation. Mr. Philippou waved his hand nonchalantly.

“Okay then, make it thirty million and not one penny more. I want them guaranteed for me and my party.”

“Yes, Mr. Philippou. Leave it to us. We shall arrange everything as per your requirements.” She nodded to Dean and he began to collect the brochures, his hands slightly trembling.

Mr. Philippou turned before he left the room.

“And you,” he looked directly at Veronique, “make sure you are on board, as my hostess. I like you.”

Dean looked at Veronique. He was more than impressed; he was completely bowled over. Not only had she managed to lease the biggest yacht he had, but she had leased six other yachts, had doubled the profits and he would have thirty million in his account at the end of the day. Walking away from the hotel with the signed contracts and the transfer slip showing the funds had been transferred to his bank, Dean wanted to say so many things, but just didn’t know what to say. He opened the car door, ensured she was seated and then got in on his side. He sat there for a moment, before starting the car. When he spoke, it was slowly and precisely.

“I think we should go and celebrate. Tonight, you, young lady, deserve a slap up meal of thanks from your boss. You did exceptionally well in there today.” 

He started the car, and together, they drove to a plush country restaurant to celebrate their success.

“W
hat do you mean she is not on board?” He was prowling his cabin like a caged animal under threat. Before him the new cruise director stood confidently. “She can’t have left today. You don’t just leave like that, without telling anyone!”

“I was sent by head office. They arranged this some time ago. She resigned a couple of months ago. It was all agreed and sorted.” The new cruise director, a small woman of forty-something was starting to lose her confidence. She held her smile just a little too fixedly. He had exploded in a rage the moment she had turned up to introduce herself. She put it down to head office miscommunications and lack of planning. “For the record, I applied for this role three months ago. I was not told there would be any problems with me coming to the ship. I thought the changeover would be common knowledge amongst all personnel on board.”

“Well take it from me, it is not! Your arrival is a great surprise to me and I am sure many other staff.”

She held her hands out in a gesture of openness as she spoke.

“I sympathize with the situation obviously, however I am here now and I intend to fulfill this role to the best of my ability.”

“Please understand your ability is not in question, however...” he did not finish his sentence.

“I have introduced myself to you now and I have yet to meet the rest of the crew and personnel on board. I shall need to be shown around.” He turned to face her.

“Your assistant is Terry. You will find him in cabin 403. He will take care of the necessary details.”

“Thank you. I shall find him.”

After the woman had left, Nico realized that he didn’t even know her name. He hadn’t really concentrated on anything she was saying, especially after she had said she was the replacement. From that moment on, he had been searching his mind for clues from Veronique. Had she said something? Dropped any hints?

He had been totally shocked that she had resigned and left. He had even begun to think there was a possibility of them getting together. After the “mugging,” he had continued to be supportive, had given her space to heal and feel safe, but was always on hand to be by her. He wondered if she had left to go stay with her brother, but Matt hadn’t been anywhere near the ship since the mugging.

It didn’t make any sense. Why would she leave all her friends behind? Did anyone else know? He picked up his captain’s cap and left to find Marie.

“Marie, do you have a moment?” She turned around. She had been stocktaking in the small shop’s storeroom. A small smile flickered across her face. Since she had split with Veronique, she had watched Nico supporting her. She knew that they loved each other and she was glad that they had found each other, even if she was hurting herself. Now she saw them both as friends, but she rarely spoke to the captain unless Veronique was there too.

“Yes?”

“I shall not keep you long. Did you know that Veronique has left?”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“The new cruise director just left my office. She says Veronique resigned a couple of months ago, did you know about this?” Marie’s face clouded with pain.

“No she can’t have done that. She wouldn’t, not just like that...without saying goodbye...she couldn’t.” Disbelief and hurt were written all over her face. “She wouldn’t go without saying goodbye...surely? Why didn’t she tell me?”

“I’m sorry Marie, but she did. She didn’t say anything to me either. I am sorry to break the news to you. I thought you already knew and were keeping it a secret from me.” She shook her head.

“No, I had no idea. Where has she gone?”

“I don’t know. I shall ask head office this afternoon.

“Ok. Please let me know what you find out.” As he started to walk away, Marie stared at the boxes before her. She was unable to move and so she sat down on a nearby chair and cried. All her thoughts were of Veronique. It didn’t make sense at all.

When the announcement was made that evening to the staff and personnel, there were shocked gasps and disappointment at the news, but people were always leaving the ship at short notice. Some staff fell in love, others fell ill, some fell pregnant, others married or found better jobs. Everyone had their own theory with regard to Veronique and many suspected it was the mugging that had been the basis. It would be hard for them to replace her. The new cruise director, whilst nice, on first impression, can’t have found it easy to cope with all the questions they posed about Veronique. She seemed efficient and had worked on other ships before her transfer, but even so, her relations were strained with the personnel on board at the beginning. The passengers had no idea. To them the current director was and had always been the ship’s director. They were totally unaware of underlying tensions, gossip running rife and continued to enjoy their holidays with great gusto.

Nico had tried unsuccessfully to get a forwarding address from head office. Despite the fact they had had a relationship on board, the Data Protection Act meant that the company was unable to divulge any information they did hold for her. What Nico didn’t know was that Veronique had actually not left any forwarding details and they couldn’t have helped him anyway. He knew that she would have had an address in the south of France, and so he fumbled on the phone with a made up address and then let the girl correct him until she had inadvertently given him the correct address. Her final pay settlement had been in cash, as was normally the case when an employee left mid season. Nico called the address in the south of France and only on one occasion did Matt actually answer. He spoke before Nico had a chance to say anything and the fact he said “Veronique? Where are you?” in a concerned and slightly angry tone, told him that Matt didn’t know either. Nico hung up without speaking.

Next, Nico put the word out on the industry grapevine. Often this was the most effective way of finding someone as personnel were forever meeting up in various locations and would gossip about all the ships’ personnel. Also “floating” staff, the temps of the cruise industry, would move from ship to ship and were often a good source of information. Nico knew that Veronique would stay in the industry; she loved it too much to change. Besides, she was the best in the market at what she did. He knew that sooner of later something would filter back to him about her whereabouts. So far, all his efforts had drawn a blank. He was determined to find her. Now that she was gone, he was surer than ever that he loved her. He missed her so much. There was an aching gap that no one could fill. In the days that followed her disappearance, his life had been totally empty. His work, normally the love of his life, had become mundane and repetitive. The continual flow of happy passengers became an annoyance. Although he remained polite and carried out his duties both social and necessary, he soon drew a reputation for being stern and aloof. Women that once fawned over him and pleased him, now were like annoying flies that were to be swatted away. He was no longer in the market for the previously exciting sexual romps that had brightly coloured and filled his pre-Veronique days. His aching heart grew into a dull black void that drew all his energy and pulled him apart. Every day he would wake up, put his feet slowly to the floor and just try to remember to breathe his way through the day. The effort of that alone took his every thought.