Killer Cruise Read online

  Killer

  Cruise

  A Rachel Prince Mystery

  DAWN BROOKES

  OAKWOOD PUBLISHING

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed are the work of the author’s imagination except for those in the public domain. Any resemblance of fictional characters to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental. Although real life places are depicted in settings, all situations and people related to those places are fictional.

  Paperback Edition 2019

  Kindle Edition 2019

  Paperback ISBN: 978-1-9998575-9-2

  Copyright © DAWN BROOKES 2019

  DAWN BROOKES asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this Work.

  All rights reserved in all media. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author and/or publisher.

  Cover Design by Janet Dado

  To Sue

  BFF

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Author’s Note

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  Other Books by Dawn Brookes

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  Chapter 1

  As Rachel gazed up out of the rear window of the old Bentley, the glow from the sun appeared to be caressing the magnificent Coral Queen. The Coral had become a ship she was extremely fond of, in spite of a few minor hiccups from puzzling murder conundrums on the two cruise holidays she’d previously spent on board.

  “Almost there, ladies.” Marjorie’s chauffeur broke the amicable silence in the rear of the car. Rachel was spending a fortnight accompanying her eighty-six-year-old friend, Lady Marjorie Snellthorpe, whom she’d met under stressful circumstances on her very first cruise. Afterwards they had become firm friends and Rachel had grown increasingly fond of the stoical older woman.

  “Thank you, Johnson, my old bones were beginning to stiffen up. Are you alright, dear?” Marjorie smiled at Rachel.

  “I’m great, thanks. I was just admiring the Coral, she’s berthed over there.”

  “She is rather wonderful, isn’t she?” replied Marjorie as they continued the drive towards the port’s entrance. A few minutes later they were parked up at a drop-off area in front of the passenger terminal. Johnson leapt out of the car with surprising agility for someone much older than Rachel and opened the door for Lady Marjorie before moving round to let Rachel out.

  He opened the boot, which had required packing with great precision due to its size, and the ship’s crew were soon attending to their luggage. Johnson insisted on carrying the hand luggage for both of them, despite protests from Rachel, reminding her how she felt part of a bygone era whenever she was with Marjorie. Growing up in a vicarage, she was used to helping other people rather than being helped herself and being pampered didn’t come naturally.

  Her father, vicar of St Crispin’s in the village of Brodthorpe, Hertfordshire, always set a perfect example of the ‘give and you shall receive’ philosophy. The only assistance the family had ever had came from a cook hired to help her mother during Rachel’s early childhood. Rachel’s mother was the perfect hostess and for the most part played the role of the vicar’s wife well, with just the occasional rebellion. One such mutiny had occurred the previous week when Rachel was visiting for the weekend.

  “I draw the line at overnighters with Girl Guides in the church, Brendan. It’s just not going to happen.”

  “The overnighter or you being one of the responsible adults?” Her father had laughed.

  “You know full well what I mean. I’m not cooking, baking, cosseting or babysitting a group of giggly girls. I’m very sorry Clara’s ill, but my sympathy does not stretch to replacing all and sundry every time something goes wrong. I already have the village fête, the women’s institute and your AGM to cater for this weekend, and now you’re asking me to feed fifteen girls for two days and sleep – or not – in the church with them! No, Brendan. Enough is enough. Find someone else or cancel it, I don’t care which.”

  Brendan Prince knew when he was beaten. He hugged his wife and conceded, looking pleadingly towards Rachel who’d agreed to step into the breach, and as it happened, had had enormous fun. Her mother had softened enough to supply meals while Rachel baked enough cakes to feed all of the Girl Guide troops for miles around.

  Rachel stretched her legs after getting out of the car and ran up and down on the spot for a few minutes to shake away the effects of the relatively short car journey. She had already jogged around Hyde Park first thing, knowing that the day would be sedentary and not wanting to miss out on her daily exercise. No-one in the family understood where her fitness-fanatic behaviour came from except herself. The running bug she’d picked up at university when she’d found herself homesick and after feeling confined during the first year living in halls of residence. It became more of an obsession during her first year of police training when she’d failed to run down a youth who had knocked an elderly woman to the ground and snatched her handbag. Her colleague had stopped to give support to the woman and Rachel had given chase, but the youth had lost her after running up a hill with comparative ease and leaping over a wall. Disgusted with her apparent lack of fitness, she’d trained harder and harder and prided herself on never failing to run anyone down since.

  Marjorie and Johnson waited patiently for her to finish jogging on the spot and retrieve her handbag from the car.

  “Ready?” the old lady asked.

  “Ready,” replied Rachel, noticing the enthusiastic crowds building up both inside and outside the terminal.

  As VIP passengers, courtesy of Marjorie’s multiple cruises, which had more recently been extended to free cruises for life, they would not have to wait in the orderly snake-like queue forming in the terminal. Marjorie took Rachel’s arm and they walked towards the entrance for platinum passengers. The staff welcomed them and asked if they needed assistance with their bags, which Rachel declined quickly, claiming them from Johnson before he could object.

  “Goodbye, Johnson. Safe journey home, and enjoy your holiday,” Marjorie intervened to prevent a scene.

  “Thank you, My Lady, I will.” He tipped his cap and waved until they’d passed through the passenger entrance towards security. Marjorie was offered wheelchair assistance for the long trek up to the ship’s passenger entrance, which she graciously accepted. Rachel put one bag on her shoulder and extended the handle of Marjorie’s hand luggage to drag it along behind her.

  “Where’s Johnson going for his holiday?”

  “Where he goes every year – fishing in the Scottish Highlands. He loves it up there, walks for miles after spending hours on end ogling the water for signs of a catch.”

  “That explains why he’s so agile,” remarked Rachel.
<
br />   “He’s a keen fisherman,” Marjorie continued. “I think that’s the reason Ralph chose him as our chauffeur – it was something my late husband loved to do too. So the two of them would up-sticks and spend days sitting in front of some river, loch or anything else they could fish in.”

  “Sounds like it’s not your thing.”

  “You’re absolutely right, my dear. It’s one pastime I’ve never been able to comprehend. Dreadfully dull, but each to their own, as they say. I never told Ralph, but I don’t think it’s fair to catch fish with a hook only to throw them back in the water again. Although to be fair, he did sometimes eat what he caught.”

  After slowly making their way up the makeshift ramp, not because the volunteer pushing Marjorie’s wheelchair was slow, but because people joining the ship ahead of them were taking their time, they finally arrived on board where Marjorie insisted she could walk.

  “I’ll be alright now, thank you. I’m fine on the flat, really.”

  “Okay, Madam.” The jolly volunteer made his way back with the empty wheelchair to assist with the next passenger needing help, but not before Marjorie had given him a generous tip for his kindness.

  The initial impression on entering the grand atrium never failed to take Rachel’s breath away. She couldn’t help admiring the thick, shiny marble pillars, polished brass stair rails and the immaculate cleanliness.

  Marjorie looked tired. “Shall we sit for a while?” asked Rachel, to which the old lady nodded. They found seats at a small table away from where the passengers were boarding. The surrounding tables were already filling up as some people had the same idea. Others were wandering around admiring the opulence of the atrium, which spanned two decks and formed the main hub of activity and the retail section of the vessel. A waiter who had been about to offer them champagne on boarding until he’d noticed Rachel’s hands were full brought them complementary flutes to have while they sat.

  “I do hope there’s a crime on board so that we can do a bit of detecting,” said Marjorie gleefully.

  “And I do hope there isn’t,” replied Rachel, laughing.

  Chapter 2

  “Come on, Sarah, questionnaire time,” called Brigitte.

  Sarah looked up at her French colleague from where she’d been lounging after checking through new passenger records and pondering over who might need medical attention. Groaning, she hauled herself from the comfortable sofa in Senior Nurse Gwen Sumner’s office. Gwen herself had taken the day off and joined back-to-back passengers on a coach tour to London.

  “I love turnaround days and meeting new passengers, but honestly, Brigitte – if we have another cruise like the last, I’m out of here.” Sarah had worked as a nurse for Queen Cruises for almost two years and considered herself fortunate that she’d only worked on the one ship so far.

  A ship that also happens to be the largest in the fleet.

  She smiled. The transatlantic crossing they had just returned from had resulted in the medical centre being inundated from day one. The return crossing was rough and passengers had struggled with the conditions, either falling down or throwing up all over the ship. In addition to that, the crew had been particularly accident prone, injuring themselves on a daily basis. Most of the injuries occurred when crew became unable to maintain their footing while rushing around attending to passengers.

  “Be thankful it wasn’t worse,” said Brigitte.

  “It was bad enough – I would say we’re due a quiet spell, but Rachel and Marjorie are joining us today and you know what that means!”

  “Noooo, it’s not going to happen. Third time lucky – no murders this voyage, not even a hint of murder.” Brigitte had missed the previous cruise Rachel had taken after her father had been involved in a car accident.

  “Let’s hope not. Anyway, I’m ready. Where’s Bernard?”

  “I don’t know – he said he was going to enjoy his day off and sleep all day before surgery tonight.”

  Sarah sighed. The medical centre held two walk-in surgeries each day, and staff also attended emergencies night and day. The nurses and doctors took turns being on call, with the nurses usually triaging patients that might need to be seen by a doctor, treating many themselves. As a rule, Dr Graham Bentley, the chief medical officer, treated passengers while Alex Romano, the junior doctor or baby doc as he was affectionately referred to, managed the health of the crew.

  “Did Alex do the London trip?”

  “No, he said he was going to Portsmouth to visit the Victory or something. Whatever that is?”

  “HMS Victory, it’s an old gunship. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of it as it played a major part in the Battle of Trafalgar during the Napoleonic Wars. I think we beat your lot, along with the Spanish.”

  “Pah, I never was interested in history, and least of all in war history. There’s enough going on in the world today without harking back to the past.”

  “If only we would learn from history,” Sarah muttered as they made their way off the ship to the passenger terminal.

  “Those lads are going to be trouble,” said Sarah as they made their way back on board after checking through passenger health questionnaires. A group of thirty young men aged between twenty-one and twenty-three were taking the cruise as a stag party. Sarah noticed the already boisterous and rowdy group causing consternation among some of the older passengers, while others looked less than patient, raising their eyebrows and rolling their eyes.

  “I think you’re right, they will be, but hopefully for security, not for us,” answered Brigitte.

  “Poor Waverley, he’s already dreading this cruise with Rachel joining us. I do think his hands are going to be full keeping that lot under control.”

  “Not to mention them.” Brigitte nodded towards an American all-girl group, similar ages to the boys.

  “Mm, could be a satisfying blend or a toxic combination, a bit like Bernard’s cocktails.”

  “Don’t talk to me about Bernard or his cocktails.”

  Brigitte and Bernard had developed a good friendship, but it could be volatile at times due to their opposite personalities. Bernard, a nurse from the Philippines, could be a tease, while Brigitte was more serious and often spoke her mind before engaging her brain. It sometimes resulted in heated debate, but Sarah was thankful that underneath it all, they liked each other, and when push came to shove, they had each other’s backs.

  “He does like to experiment,” Sarah laughed. “The only successful secret cocktail recipe he has produced is the Stinger – not that I like them. They are like Marmite: you love them or you hate them.”

  “They’re alright I suppose, but I prefer wine, being French.”

  “Anyway, I’m going to track down Rachel and Lady Snellthorpe before dinner and evening surgery. See you later.” Sarah tapped her friend and colleague on the shoulder and headed towards the main atrium.

  She spotted Lady Marjorie’s unmistakable head of bright white hair, immaculately permed, before seeing Rachel partially hidden by a pillar. She sneaked up behind her, holding her finger to her lips to alert Marjorie not to give the game away, and grabbed her shoulders from behind. Rachel calmly got up from her chair before hugging Sarah excitedly. They had been best friends since school.

  “Why weren’t you surprised?” Sarah felt disappointed.

  “I saw you coming through the glass. If you want to surprise people, you’re going to have to tell the staff not to do such a good job of the cleaning.”

  Rachel laughed as Sarah looked at the gleaming glass balustrade next to the table and realised what she meant – her reflection was clearly visible, not only in the glass, but also the table and the marble pillars.

  “Hello, Lady Snellthorpe. It’s lovely to see you again.” Sarah hugged the old lady who had stood to greet her.

  “Bah, you can do away with the Lady Snellthorpe business. Marjorie to you, and I’ll brook no argument. You look lovely in that pristine white uniform, my dear, and it’s a pleasure to see you
again.”

  “Thank you,” answered Sarah, standing back and studying the elderly lady. A spritely woman for her age, and immaculately dressed and manicured as usual. She recognised the sky-blue Ralph Lauren suit and the Armani blouse immediately. “You don’t look so bad yourself. Are you keeping well, Marjorie?”

  “Quite well, thank you.”

  Sarah joined them at the table and gratefully accepted a glass of orange juice from one of the waiters. Marjorie was unlikely to say even if she weren’t well, a proud woman who believed in the stiff upper lip mentality that many people her age adhered to.

  “How was the New York trip?” asked Rachel.

  “New York was fine – no murder en route, unlike when you were with us, but the return sailing was rough the first few days. Lots of passengers were seasick. We haven’t had much time to catch our breath, but this journey looks good. The forecast is favourable, and the multiple stops should keep people entertained, allowing the crew to get their land legs back again as we all get more shore leave.”

  An announcement came over the ship’s loudspeakers informing them of a compulsory safety drill before dinner.

  “I’d better go and drop this hand luggage off in our rooms,” said Rachel. “I’ll meet you at our Muster Station, Marjorie.

  “Yes, I need to change uniforms quickly. One of the passengers spilt tea downstairs and my skirt was splashed.”

  “Barely noticeable,” remarked Marjorie.

  “I know, but better to give a good impression to passengers on their first day,” answered Sarah, winking. She hugged Rachel and Marjorie again before leaving. “I can’t wait to introduce you to Jason.”

  “We can’t wait either, can we, Marjorie?”

  “We are very much looking forward to it,” answered Marjorie.

  “I’ll let you know when I can arrange it. Catch you later.”

  Sarah bounced away happily. She was indeed looking forward to introducing her new boyfriend Jason to Rachel. A best friend’s appraisal was always welcome.