Killer Cruise Read online

  Chapter 3

  The next evening, Rachel couldn’t help but notice the brash Freddie Mercury lookalike making his way towards her. He’d been doing the rounds in the bar where she and Marjorie were having a quiet after-dinner cocktail.

  “Oh dear. Here comes trouble,” remarked Marjorie.

  “Allo, darling.” The stench of alcohol-fuelled breath almost knocked her out as the man sat on the bar stool next to Rachel. Around six-foot tall, with short dyed black hair, black moustache and large, prominent front teeth, he was already worse for wear. At eight o’clock in the evening, the night was yet young. He spoke with a cockney accent and his lecherous blood-shot green eyes told Rachel all she needed to know about him.

  “How do you do?” Marjorie tried to intervene on her behalf. Rachel was used to unwanted attention, being tall with blonde hair, blue eyes, and told by so many how beautiful she looked. Being so attractive wasn’t always a positive thing, but she could handle it. This man had already caused quite a commotion in the bar, a number of men standing up and threatening him, and the policewoman in Rachel had been inadvertently observing his behaviour since he came in. Almost as soon as he’d entered, he’d argued with a man in a suit. The man had grabbed his arm in an attempt to lead him out, but ‘Freddie Mercury’ had pushed him away, causing the man to shrug his shoulders and leave.

  The man before her now was wearing a white Elvis Presley style jumpsuit decorated with ribbons and sequins. Not the normal white vest and trousers she remembered from seeing pictures of Freddie Mercury, if that was who he was imitating. He also wore smudged bright red lipstick, eyeliner and thick mascara – he had to be a member of the on-board entertainment. She got another whiff of alcohol mixed with cigarette smoke on his breath as he leaned closer, blocking Marjorie.

  “I was talking to ’er, Grandma.” His speech was slurred and he almost fell over as he grabbed Rachel’s wrist. Rachel wanted to give him a swift karate chop for his rudeness to her elderly friend, but she made allowances for the fact he was in a drunken stupor.

  “Sir, I respectfully suggest it might be better if you went elsewhere. I’m having a drink with my friend. Please take your hand off me.” Rachel warned him, forcing herself to be as pleasant as she could muster.

  “Oh, come on, give a geezer a break. You looking for a good time?” His grip grew tighter and he pulled her closer. Looking down at her wrist, Rachel noticed a red mark extending beyond where his hand was holding her tight. It was becoming painful.

  “I am having a good time, thank you. Now, you’re hurting me, so for the last time, please remove your hand.”

  “Or what?” he spluttered, spraying saliva over her dress. Rachel had had enough. Moving as quickly and stealthily as a panther, she grabbed his hand and twisted his arm behind his back in an instant, gritting her teeth.

  “Or this—”

  He cried out, drawing even more attention to the scene. Heads were turning all around.

  “Alright, let go o’ me.”

  Rachel noticed a large man getting up from another stool, looking angry. She released Freddie’s arm as a security guard entered the bar and approached him.

  “Mr Mercury, sir, I’m going to have to ask you to come with me.”

  Rachel gawped. “Really?”

  The guard rolled his eyes and mouthed, “I know, it’s what he likes to be called!”

  The man tried to straighten himself and square up to the security guard, but his effort was a pathetic attempt, and he was no match for the strapping six-foot-three guard, whose name badge revealed him as Jason Goodridge. Rachel knew at once that he was a recent addition to the security team working on board the Coral Queen, and more importantly, he was Sarah’s new boyfriend.

  Mercury conceded defeat and allowed Jason to lead him out of the bar.

  “Well, cruising has certainly been more interesting since I met you, Rachel Prince,” chuckled Marjorie, eyes twinkling.

  “It can be entertaining at times, although deadly and extremely annoying at others,” Rachel retorted, mulling over her previous cruises tracking down murderers. It was fun travelling with Marjorie, who had asked Rachel to accompany her on this cruise around the Baltic Sea as she no longer enjoyed travelling alone and her son despised cruising. Rachel was only too pleased to oblige and they were happily ensconced in luxury suites at the back of deck fifteen with a butler shared between them. Marjorie insisted on paying for Rachel who had reluctantly accepted, knowing that once the old lady’s mind was made up, there was no changing it.

  “Do you suppose that was his real name?” asked Rachel.

  “No, I don’t think so. He looks like he might be one of the entertainers; I read in the Coral News there was a Queen tribute act on board. He may be a fanatic, or worse still, a member of the band, I suppose.”

  “Let’s hope he’s not one of the band or they will be one short – I can’t see him sobering up anytime soon. Are they playing tonight?”

  “I believe so, but I didn’t notice where or when. Not my thing, I prefer heavy metal.” Marjorie giggled again, causing Rachel to join in.

  “Yeah, right!”

  “You handled yourself well there, ma’am.” A pleasant American voice interrupted their conversation. Rachel looked down from her bar stool to see a short, stocky man in his sixties with silver-grey hair and a snow-white moustache, similar to Marjorie’s hair colour. He continued in his southern drawl, “He was getting on my last nerve.” The man giggled at his own joke. “The wife told me to come to your aid, but you moved pretty quickly before I got the chance. I don’t move as fast as I used to. May I buy you both a drink and would you like to join Mabel and me?” He pointed towards a table for four where an elegant bleached-blonde lady, wearing an emerald green dress, was waving. Rachel looked at Marjorie to check.

  “Thank you. That would be most kind,” the old lady answered. “I’ll have another one of these splendid cocktails please.”

  Rachel smiled at the man and answered, “The same – if you’re sure that’s alright?”

  “It would be my pleasure.” He turned to a barman and ordered the drinks.

  They made their way over to the table where Mabel was sitting.

  “Howdy.” The woman spoke in a high-pitched voice. “I haven’t seen moves like that in a long time. Where d’you learn to do that?”

  Rachel, always reluctant to divulge the fact she worked as a policewoman, answered honestly, “Karate black belt. I like to practise now and then.”

  “Well, he’s lucky he didn’t get the chop then, eh, Mabel?” The man laughed again as he arrived with two Blue Lagoons. “I’m Ron, by the way, and this is my wife, Mabel.”

  “I’m Rachel.”

  “And I’m Marjorie,” said Marjorie with the twinkle that hadn’t left her eye. It was obvious she was enjoying herself.

  “That’s a mighty fine upper-crust English accent you have there, Marjorie,” said Ron, good-naturedly. “Are you two related?”

  “No,” answered Marjorie. “But I have come to view Rachel as a granddaughter over the past few years. She’s become part of the family,” she said affectionately.

  Rachel smiled at the unexpected compliment and had to agree that she and Marjorie had become very close in recent months. Rachel had taken a job in the police force in north London, and knowing how expensive London was to live in, Marjorie had offered her a flat she owned in the West End at a much reduced rent. Rachel had been reluctant to accept the offer, but Marjorie had insisted.

  “It’s an apartment that was used by my husband for international visitors when he ran the business. Since Ralph died, it sits empty as Jeremy puts overseas people up at his home now. Gives him the opportunity to show off. I was mulling over the idea of selling the place so you would be doing me a huge favour occupying it. Save me the bother.”

  Rachel finally accepted, and despite a few guilt pangs, couldn’t be happier with her new apartment just a short distance from Harrods in Knightsbridge.

 
Ron and Mabel turned out to be pleasant company. They explained they were from Texas with Ron owning a cattle ranch inherited from his grandparents.

  “Daddy didn’t want anything to do with it. Couldn’t wait to escape, but I love it out there, solitary and wild. I would have given it all up for Mabel, though. She was born and bred in the city, but fell in love with me and the ranch in that order.” He squeezed his wife’s hand. “We’re getting too old for all the work involved now; we haven’t been blessed with children, so it looks like we might have to sell up the old place soon.” He looked momentarily saddened by this proclamation, and Mabel squeezed his hand back. “But I have a great neighbour and his son who will buy us out whenever we’re ready. We’ll be able to live in the house for as long as we like, though.”

  “That guy who was bothering you ladies is lead singer in a Queen tribute band, you know. Only saw them perform last night and he was brilliant, although a bit too risqué for our liking,” said Mabel.

  “Oh really? They’re supposed to be performing tonight, too,” remarked Marjorie.

  “Is that so?” Mabel pulled a copy of the Coral News, a daily brochure listing all activities and events available on board ship, from her bag. “Oh, so they are, eleven o’clock in the Culture Lounge. Let’s hope there are two lead singers.”

  “Too late for me, I’m afraid,” said Marjorie. “Otherwise I’d be tempted to see if he’s sobered up by then. What about you, Rachel?”

  “I just might go out of curiosity, if Sarah’s up for it.”

  “Who’s Sarah?” asked Mabel.

  “She’s my best friend who works on board as a ship’s nurse. We’re meeting up once she’s finished work for the evening. Here she comes now.”

  Sarah walked in, looking dazzling as usual in her pristine white officer’s uniform, compulsory attire in the passenger areas. She hugged Rachel and kissed Marjorie on the cheek.

  “Hello, you two.” She looked at Ron and Mabel. “Good evening, sir, madam.”

  Rachel introduced the couple and Sarah joined them. Ron enjoyed relating the story of Rachel’s lightning moves fending off the troublesome entertainer, ending with the fact the man was supposed to be performing later in the evening.

  “I can tell you want to go,” said Sarah, laughing at Rachel’s eager face. “I have heard about the band. They’ve joined us on a three month contract.” Sarah sounded like they had already made an impression, but didn’t elaborate.

  Rachel nodded and the matter was settled.

  “Can I get you a drink?” Ron offered.

  “No, you cannot,” interjected Marjorie. “It’s my turn, but might I ask you to do the honours, Rachel? Here’s my card.”

  After buying a round of drinks, Rachel sat down and told Sarah how they had inadvertently met Jason who had been the man of the moment, escorting Mr Freddie Mercury out of the bar following the unwelcome incident. Sarah blushed at the mention of Jason’s name. Rachel was happy for her.

  “We didn’t get the opportunity to introduce ourselves, though.”

  “Freddie Mercury can’t be his real name, can it?” asked Marjorie.

  “No, it’s not,” Sarah replied. “His name is Dominic, Dominic Venables, but he will only answer to Dom – or Freddie. He is apparently going to change his name by deed poll soon, though, according to the drummer.”

  “My, my!” exclaimed Ron. “As long as we don’t meet an Elvis Presley or Dolly Parton – not that I’d complain about the latter – on board ship, or I’ll start thinking I’m ready for a rest home.” They all laughed, good naturedly.

  After finishing her drink, Marjorie stood up. “If you young things don’t mind, it’s time for me to retire.”

  “I’ll walk you,” Rachel offered.

  “No need, dear. I’m going to take a stroll on the upper decks first.”

  Rachel knew that Marjorie and her late husband had always strolled around the open decks before going to bed, something Marjorie chose to do alone as she said it helped her feel close to him.

  “Time for us to go too,” declared Mabel. “I’ve got an appointment for a manicure early tomorrow morning.”

  Left alone, Rachel asked Sarah how her day had been.

  “Relatively quiet – a healthy group of passengers so far. Day two and no murders – that’s got to be a bonus.”

  “If you count boarding day as day one, then yes, so far, so good.”

  The cacophonous din of rock music blaring from the Culture Lounge greeted them.

  “I’ve never been here before,” said Rachel. “There’s still so much to explore on board.”

  The band was warming up. The lounge was already full and the two friends struggled to find anywhere to sit. The cavernous room resembled a disco in many ways with a dance floor in front of the stage where the band was tuning instruments. The lighting was dim around the tables with kaleidoscopic rotating lamps flashing towards the dance floor and the stage.

  “No sign of Freddie,” said Rachel as they perched themselves on two bar stools on the edge of a large table.

  “Gordon doesn’t look happy,” Sarah remarked.

  “Who’s Gordon?”

  “Gordon Venables. He’s the new cruise director, taken over from Matt who decided to join the Caribbean route.”

  Rachel saw a small, slim man with dark-brown hair, dressed in a navy-blue suit, frantically speaking into his radio just off the side of the stage. The other members of the band continued testing their instruments and microphones at mega-too-loud decibels. Rachel could barely hear Sarah, they were shouting above the thunderous sound of the bass.

  “He does look stressed, poor man.”

  It was quarter past eleven and the crowd was becoming more boisterous and fractious by the minute. Gordon walked towards the main microphone.

  “Apologies, ladies and gentlemen, there will be a short delay while we wait for our lead singer—”

  “Boo, boo, boo!” the crowd yelled, drowning out the dulcet tones of the cruise director.

  “Oh dear,” said Sarah. “He’s really not having a good day – one of the dancers in the early evening theatre show sprained her ankle and had to pull out of the second show, and now this.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  “I was called over to the theatre to treat the sprain.”

  As if by magic, the lights dimmed, the band struck up a rousing intro and Freddie-cum-Dom paraded on stage, belting out a rendition of Killer Queen. It did the trick. His jumping and gyrating with the microphone attached to a mobile stand whipped the mainly middle-aged and largely inebriated crowd into a state of frenzy. A good performer, Rachel had to admit.

  “The cynic in me says that was staged,” she shouted above the noise.

  Sarah was shaking her head, bemused and looking as confused as Rachel. The atmosphere was rocking with sound vibrations they could actually feel underneath their feet following the increase in volume. The sudden appearance of the elusive Freddie had caused the crowd to go into a feverish euphoria. Gordon ran off stage, wiping sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief.

  Rachel watched the theatrical Freddie, mesmerised by his mannerisms. “I can imagine him practising in his bedroom, performing to old videos to be as good as this. Queen was before my time, but he seems about right. They certainly don’t use mics like that anymore, as far as I’m aware.”

  “Thankfully. He’s obviously an obsessed eccentric, but a brilliant performer,” Sarah shouted back. “As long as he keeps the passengers happy, although I fear the band might end up being more trouble than it’s worth.”

  An hour later, while the band left the stage for a break, Rachel and Sarah enjoyed the relative quiet.

  “Do you mind if we call it a night? I’m on call in the morning,” said Sarah.

  “Yes, that’s fine with me. They are a good group, I’ll give them that – shame Mr Mercury doesn’t behave a bit better when not on stage.”

  While waiting for Sarah to come out of the ladies, Rachel saw
Dom-cum-Freddie standing in the corridor, yelling at another man. The lead guitarist she suspected, although she wasn’t certain.

  “If you think you’re ever gonna be good enough to take over from me – forget it! Don’t think I don’t know what’s going on behind my back. You’re not good enough! You’ll never be good enough.”

  Following this diatribe, Freddie barged past Rachel, knocking her left shoulder as he did so. The man who had been shouted at was too busy licking his wounds to see her either and he sulkily followed Freddie back towards the stage.

  Sarah returned.

  “He might be a good singer, but he’s a real pain in the backside.” Rachel glared after both men.

  “What happened?”

  “Mr blooming egocentric dinosaur barged into me after giving one of his band mates a tongue lashing. He really needs to learn some manners.”

  “Oh dear, I’m sorry. Don’t worry, Rachel, I suspect he won’t last long on board the Coral Queen if he starts annoying the passengers like that.”

  “I won’t be complaining, but it will not be long before someone else does, I’m afraid. Anyway, no harm done, but someone might just lash out at him if he’s not careful.”

  They parted company at the lifts and Rachel made her way up to deck fifteen and her luxury suite, Killer Queen still buzzing around in her head.

  Chapter 4

  The following morning, Rachel joined Marjorie for breakfast in her suite after going for a run around deck sixteen. Mario, their butler from El Salvador who she knew from previous voyages, brought in extra coffee on seeing Rachel.

  “I knew you would want coffee, ma’am Rachel, so I took liberty of ordering extra.”

  “Thanks, Mario. I must be taking too many cruise holidays if you know me that well!”

  “Not nearly enough, ma’am.” He placed the tray on a table and left them to it.

  They sat out on the large balcony facing the expansive sea behind the ship as their suites were situated, one either side, at the rear of deck fifteen. Today there was no sea view as they were docked in Copenhagen harbour. Rachel poured them both coffee and took in deep breaths of salt-filled air.