"Good Morning Handsome!" The voice took on a seductive tone bringing a grin to Don Flack's face as he cradled the phone between his ear and his shoulder while he scraped butter onto his second piece of toast.
"Good Morning Gorgeous! I've missed you. Where have you been?"
"Ah wouldn't you like to know?" teased the voice "Anyway I've got a call for you so you had better get a move on 'cos you're gonna' love this one! I'm texting you the address. Have fun!"
"No wait!" Don took a deep breath. "How about you and I meet up for coffee … or dinner?" Don held his breath. There was a pause.
"That might not be such a good idea. You might be disappointed."
"What?" Don blurted out. "I'm sure I wouldn't … why would I be disappointed?"
"Well! I just thought that after last time …" The was a distinct pause. "Oh! Another call! … Gotta go! Have a good one! Be safe!"
"Janice! No! Wait! Janice?" Don almost screamed into the phone but the line had already gone silent. Dammit! The familiar beeping indicated an incoming message. Don stared at it without really seeing it. What the hell? What last time...?
Don flinched as the phone in his hand rang again. Disappointment flooded him as he saw Danny's name pop up. He lifted the phone to his ear.
"Don? Hey buddy, how ya doin'?" Danny didn't wait for answer. "Look I'm sorry to do this to you but there is no way that Lindsay and I are going to clear before midday. Jo and Sheldon have just pulled an all-nighter so you're just going to have to call the boss in on this one. Sorry buddy!"
"Isn't it his day off?" asked Don grimacing.
"Yeah but don't worry we'll send flowers to your funeral and give you a nice eulogy." Don could just make out a voice in the background. "Oh you're right Linds! … There won't be a funeral … "
"... 'cos we'll never find your body!" they chimed in unison before Danny hung up.
"Clowns!" muttered Don to himself as he looked again at the text Janice had sent. He read it again, eyes widening as he actually took in what it said. "Oh no! Not again!" Just when he thought things couldn't get any worse!
Mac Taylor was doing something he couldn't remember having done in many years. Having a lie-in. "I should go work out." he muttered half-heartedly as he shifted position. A small sound of protest came from the mass of dark hair on his stomach. Mac smiled to himself. He didn't really want to work out. He was quite happy where he was.
"Too early." moaned the hair.
Mac stretched out an arm and picked up his watch. "It's almost eight."
"Definitely too early." affirmed the hair.
Mac dropped the watch and grabbed the phone as it rang. "It's Don. … Morning Don!" Mac grimaced as Don explained the reason for his call. "You can't be serious!" Mac sighed. "Okay give me twenty minutes." The mass of hair moved revealing a sleepy face, two eyes and a pout. Mac stared into the eyes deciding that he would never get tired of looking at those eyes. The brown eye glared threateningly at him while somehow the blue eye looked positively mischievous. The creamy satin covers moved suddenly. Mac swallowed an expletive and swatted at the hand under the covers. "Cut that out!" he hissed. "Er … nothing Don! No I'm fine. … er … no … I don't need a lift. Thanks. Just send the address." Mac swatted at the covers again before hanging up quickly in case Don got suspicious. He dropped the phone on the night-stand and rolled onto his stomach.
Lisa squealed as she was suddenly flipped onto her back. "It's your day off!" she moaned, her mouth resuming the pout.
Mac sighed. "I'm sorry. I'll try and clear as quickly as I can. I promise." He planted a firm kiss on the pout and it softened a little.
"Well you had better not be late tonight." Mac's face took on a wicked grin. "We have got to put him out of his misery." Lisa chided.
"Okay. Okay. But you have got to admit, it's been fun. It's driving him crazy!"
"You are a very wicked man Mac Taylor." Lisa's pout all but disappeared as a series of small kisses tickled her neck.
"You have no idea!" he whispered into her ear and the pout vanished completely.
Forty-five minutes later, Don Flack was leaning nonchalantly on the hood of the car as Mac's Avalanche drew up. He watched as Mac got out and went round to the passenger side to get his case. Don's smile stretched into a leer and he made a show of checking his watch as Mac walked up to him.
"Shut up Don!"
The detective feigned innocence. "I didn't say a word."
Mac fixed Don with a threatening glare which made Don grin all the more. "So what exactly are we doing here?" Mac surveyed the waterfront with an appreciative eye looking longingly into the distance towards the berth where the USS Intrepid now spent her days as a museum.
"Sorry buddy!" Don knew exactly what Mac was thinking. "I'm afraid we're over here at the cheap end of Luxury Liner Row!" Mac turned his head away from the Intrepid with a sigh looking past the two enormous ocean liners disgorging their passengers into the Manhattan Passenger Terminal until his eyes settled on an older and smaller vessel that spoke of a bygone age.
"The Pride of the Caribbean!" announced Flack indicating the once elegant liner that was positively dwarfed by the larger more modern cruise ships to her right. "Her last visit to New York before she's due to be refitted as a floating casino. She's here to be salvaged before her refit." Mac arched an eyebrow questioningly. Don shrugged. "All the fittings have to go, everything from the beds in the cabins to the tables in the restaurant. And we're talking everything …" Don consulted a print-out attached to a clipboard. "...tableware, pictures, sculptures, pianos, books from the library, tables and chairs from the restaurant, washing machines from the laundry, toilet brushes from the…!"
"Okay. Okay. I get the idea." Mac chuckled. "And you know this how?"
Don pointed to two men talking at the foot of the enormous metal gangway that zigzagged up the side of the ship. "Man on the left is Captain Pierson. He's the one who called us. The other guy – who is pretty pissed off I might add – is James Ashelford, New York Salvage and Recuperation. NYSAR … except he's not very nice." Mac winced at Don's terrible joke. "He's the one who's supposed to be stripping this baby of her fittings and we ... or rather you … have been holding him up!" Mac sighed and rolled his eyes ignoring the innuendo in Don's voice.
As they approached Ashelford turned around. "Are you in charge here?" he asked snootily. "I'll have you know that time is money and at present time is something I have little of Mr ... "
"Taylor! … Detective … Mac … Taylor!" Mac announced fixing the short rotund man with an icy glare. "Mr Ashelford, I apologise for any inconvenience but we have a crime scene aboard. I will do all in my power to expedite matters. Now if you'll excuse me … Captain Pierson, would you be so kind as to escort us to the crime scene?" Mac promptly turned his back on the arrogant little man thus ending any further discussion
Pierson, a slim man with weathered skin and a ready smile, extended his hand. "Detective Taylor. This way if you please." Mac and Don followed the Captain who punched in a code to unlock the gate before leading them up the gangway onto the vessel leaving James Ashelford fuming on the quay below. They entered amidships into a light airy foyer. A reception desk stood to the right opposite a a huge bronze statue of a fierce looking Neptune complete with trident and writhing sea nymphs.
"This is the Foyer Deck" announced the captain. "One of our famous bronzes." He nodded towards Neptune. "To your right is the auditorium and the cinema. There's a coffee shop, bureau de change, boutiques and ship's offices aft. This way please"!.He led them up an elegant staircase with a brass handrail and another bronze statuette with a nautical theme set into an alcove. "The Promenade Deck – fully enclosed with panoramic windows. Also a salon, games and reading rooms, and the chapel … this way please." They passed through a large room with a high recessed ceiling which had obviously once housed a bar, sofas, chairs and tables, indents in the carpet showing where they had once stood. The huge space was now empty except for a grand piano and the lush red carpet which showed distinct signs of wear where passenger after passenger had walked hunting down the best table.
"How long have you been captain?" asked Mac.
"Twenty-two years." Captain Pierson paused and looked around the vast room. "I shall miss her but I'm looking forward to retirement and spending time with my new wife." Captain Pierson smiled at Mac. "Never thought I would remarry after my first wife died but then life often reserves many a surprise … and when we least expect it." Mac couldn't help but allow a small smile to cross his lips at the captain's words, a smile that didn't go unnoticed by his friend.
Captain Pierson stopped in front of a door with the word Chapel embossed in simple wooden letters. He opened the door and stood back to allow them to enter. Mac entered the small room that had enough seating for twenty people on either side. The altar was a simple wooden table covered with a white intricately embroidered cloth, the polished plain brass cross it's only ornament. The walls were decorated in a soft cream, recessed lighting giving them a warm feeling and the backdrop to the altar was a simple velvet curtain in a delicate shade of green. Somehow through it's simplicity the room exuded peace and serenity. Strange that there should be a body of a young man lying in the centre of the aisle facing the altar, one arm outstretched it's fingers curled as though holding something. Mac pulled on his gloves, bent down and examined the body carefully his pen light flicking over skin and clothes.
"Who found him?" he asked.
"I did. I came down after breakfast to check what remained to be done on this floor before NYSAR arrived. The door was open and he was just lying there. I closed the door and reported it to the Port Authority who called you." Captain Pierson shook his head sadly. "Poor boy. So young."
"Caucasian, mid-twenties, cheap jeans and sweatshirt, trainers … " Mac spoke to himself as he tried to lift a hand. "Full rigour so he's been dead approximately 12 hours. " Mac examined the wound on the back of the man's head. "Blunt force trauma. Heavy object with a distinct pattern. Sid should be able to give us something on this." Mac felt the man's pockets. "Nothing. Do you know him Captain?"
Captain Pierson shook his head. "Our last passengers left us Sunday after the gala weekend and I'm pretty sure he wasn't one of them. We cater mostly for an older generation. Don and Mac nodded in understanding. "The NYSAR teams turned up Wednesday and yesterday to start clearing out. As you can see they have already taken the furniture from the salon, the restaurants on this deck and the boat deck above us. They were due to start on the smaller rooms today along with the deck furnishings before doing the cabins and suites next week. He could be one of them."
Don consulted his clipboard. "According to this there are thirty men split into teams of three. They worked from 8am to 6pm when they were escorted from the ship. Breaks taken on board in the staff restaurant ..." Don looked up. Captain Pierson nodded.
"Where are they now?" asked Mac glancing at Don.
"In the staff restaurant in the passenger terminal waiting for permission to board. I've got a couple of my guys down there keeping an eye on them."
"What about the crew?"
Captain Pierson looked apologetic. "Most of the staff left us on Tuesday after cleaning up. My second in command Bill Higgins is on the bridge. My chef and his two assistants are in the galley preparing lunch for the NYSAR teams. My chief engineer Randy Scott is almost certainly in the engine room but I'm afraid what remains of the crew contracted to sail her on to Nassau are on shore leave until this evening. They were rather keen to explore your wonderful city. After many years of visiting New York this is the first opportunity that most of them have had to actually spend time here. But I can assure you Detectives, I cannot believe that any of them would do this. They have been with us a long time and I would personally vouch for them all."
"I'm afraid they need to be checked all the same. Would they have been aboard last night?"
Pierson shrugged. "I'd have to check the sign-in book. All crew sign in and out. Ship's rules." Mac looked at Don who nodded and asked to be shown the book and the personnel files. They left Mac to process. Don was amazed at the size of the ship as Pierson led him back to the staircase, up past the Boat Deck with it's lifeboats and forward observation deck, then past the Pool Deck with it's twin pools to the smaller Sun Deck at one end of the ship. Don was glad for a few minutes in the warm sunshine as they made their way forward to the bridge. They strolled along the well-worn deck past a mountain of blue and white stripy cushions covered with a tarpaulin next to dozens of white plastic sun-loungers that had been piled against the bulkhead under the bridge ready for removal. As they reached a narrow flight of battered steps the captain's phone rang.
"Would you excuse me Detective? The people from the M.E.'s office need to be let on board. You'll find Bill in the wheelhouse. He'll get you anything you need." Don nodded and mounted the stairs onto the bridge avoiding the rusting handrail. As he entered Don was amazed to see an old-fashioned wooden wheel still stood among the modern computerized systems. He couldn't resist running a hand over it.
"Hands off ye bugger!" came a shrill voice behind him. "Stick 'em up!"
Don whirled around in fright, his hand going automatically to his holster. What the hell? Don glared at the owner of the voice as he refastened the safety.
"Shut up ye' daft bird! Sorry about him!" Don turned to see a man in his late-fifties come up hand outstretched in greeting. "Bill Higgins. Welcome aboard the Pride of the Caribbean. Don't mind Jack here. Need to wash out his mouth with soap and water."
"Soap and water. Soap and water." trilled the brightly coloured parrot as Don eyed it suspiciously. He was beginning to develop a serious paranoia about ships and animals. He supposed he ought to be grateful it wasn't a cat but he decided to give the foul-mouthed feather-ball a wide berth.
"Regret having tried to teach it to talk. Seems only to remember the rude words." Bill Higgins grinned apologetically. Don introduced himself and followed Bill into the chart room where they sat down at a computer monitor to go through the personnel files. Forty minutes later, Don was just waiting for the final copies of the staff records and sign-in sheets to print when Jack announced a visitor.
"Putain! Sacrilège!" he squawked.
Bill Higgins cringed. "That'll be Pierre with the coffee. Bloody bird swears in French too and I have a feeling it's even more colourful than in English." Sure enough a slim, dark-haired man with narrow eyes entered with a large tray of coffee and Danish pastries and glared at the offensive creature. Don's eyes widened in anticipation at the large pile of fresh golden pastries dusted generously in confectioner's sugar. "Please help yourself Detective. Pierre makes the best pastries this side of the Atlantic." Pierre preened with pride at Bill's praise. Introductions made, Don gladly accepted coffee and pastries and was delighted to find that Pierre did indeed make the best pastries he had ever tasted.
After a brief discussion with Pierre who knew nothing because he spent most of his time in the galley with his assistants, Jamie and Alex, Bill offered to show Flack the rest of the ship on the way down to see the ship's engineer Randy Scott who had definitely been on board over the past twenty-four hours. As they took advantage of the enclosed walkway on the Promenade Deck, Don could imagine that the ship had once been the height of luxury but she now seemed forlorn devoid of her furnishings and passengers. Bill Higgins seemed to pick up on his sentiments.
"Aye she was a beauty in her day. She sailed the Mediterranean when she was the SS Luciana before being refitted for her Caribbean tours. Now she's going to be retired as a floating casino. What I wouldn't give to see her refitted as she once was. Polished brass and shimmering chandeliers. Passengers in evening dress strolling the decks. She must have been a sight to behold." Bill pulled open a door at the far end of the ship and allowed Don to enter. They made they way back to the staircase this time heading down past the foyer to the accommodation decks. "This is the premier class deck." He pushed open a door for Don to see. "All the comforts of home." Don was surprised to see a spacious cabin, beds made as though ready to receive more visitors, soft blue furnishings, polished mirrors and rich dark wood. "You should see the state-rooms!" Bill ducked back into the cabin to close the door as Don turned his head. A shadow flitted across the hall a short distance away catching his attention.
"Mac?" Don shouted wondering if Mac was taking a look around too. "Hello?" Don wandered down the hall looking down the side corridors as he went but all was silent and deserted. Strange, he thought to himself.
"Everything all right?" asked Bill as he joined Don at the end of the corridor.
Don nodded. "Just thought I saw someone down here. As you said everyone was ashore I thought it might be Mac."
Bill grinned as he pulled open a door marked 'Crew Only'. "Oh it's probably just the ghost of fourteen-oh-eight!" he announced ushering Don through the door.
Dons stared at him open-mouthed. "The what ..?"
Bill laughed. "Never seen her myself but the more superstitious crew members swear they've seen the ghostly figure walking the decks at night." They passed a number of smaller cabins before taking a simple iron staircase. "She was one of the ship's early passengers, a wealthy widow murdered by her second husband in order to steal the family jewels. He was caught and hung but they never found the jewels and folk say she still wanders the decks in search of them before returning to the cabin where she was murdered: fourteen-oh-eight!" Bill's voice dropped to an eerie whisper.
Don jumped in spite of himself as a raucous laugh came from behind them.
"You'll no be believing that load o' cods-wallop!"
Don span around and came face to face with a jolly-faced man in blue overalls wielding an over-sized spanner. The man stuck out an enormous hand.
"Randy Scott. Ship's engineer. Call me Scotty!" announced the burly Scot with a greying beard. Don's mouth dropped open, his head already spinning from parrots and ghost stories. He smiled widely at the engineer as he shook his hand. Don wondered where Mac was. He was going to have a field day with this one.
"Terrible business." Scotty shook his head. "Do ya know who the poor wee laddie is?"
Don shook his head. "No Sir. We don't have an ID yet. Did you see him?"
"Aye but not before he was killed. I went with Bill and the Capt'n to have a look see this mornin' but I dunna know 'im. I canna' imagine what he was doin' on board. " Scotty shook his head. "A stowaway perhaps. Tho' I would hav' thought he would have skipped ashore when we berthed. There were that many people comin' and goin' during the gala weekend. No one would hav' noticed." Scotty thought for a moment. "Perhaps he's the one that's been stealing the food?"
Don frowned. "Stealing the food?"
Bill Higgins nodded in agreement. "Yeah. Pierre says he made enough sandwiches for the crew the past two days but we've been coming up short. And he said cookies and candy have gone missing from the galley too. Surprised he didn't say anything earlier." Don nodded as he made a mental note. They chatted for a few moments while he verified Scotty's movements and they checked through the ship's roster. Bill then accompanied Don back to the Foyer Deck where Mac was supervising the removal of the body and samples to be taken back to the lab. They waited while Mac handed over some evidence bags with instructions to get them to Adam Ross as soon as possible. After introductions Bill excused himself to help the two ME's assistants as they manoeuvred the body down the gangway and lock the gate after them.
"You done?" Don asked.
Mac nodded. "Liver temp confirms TOD between nine and ten last night. Did you manage to check the crew's whereabouts?"
Don nodded. "Yep, Captain Pierson, Bill Higgins and Scotty ..." Don grinned. "... the ship's chief engineer ..." Mac grimaced immediately knowing where Don was going with this. He flashed him a silent warning.
"Seriously Mac! He's even got the right accent .. I swear!" Don chuckled to himself but continued. "Anyway they were playing poker in the crew's lounge until eleven. The chef Pierre Dufour was in the galley preparing a birthday cake. He sent his two assistants away. I don't think he actually lets them do any cooking, if you know what I mean!" Don pulled a face. "Apparently it's the captain's birthday today and they're planning a little celebration with the crew tonight. The rest of the crew were on shore leave. According to the log book they returned in groups between midnight and three am but I need to check the security cameras." Mac looked hopeful. "But don't get excited … they're aren't any on the ship but there's one that focusses on the quay and would pick up anyone entering or leaving the gangway."
"Okay, call Adam and get him to check the footage. What about the NYSAR crew?"
"My guys have completed the interviews and say they're all present and accounted for. They all left at 6pm precisely. They had a bus to transport them back to the depot so unless one of them sneaked back later ..." Don shrugged. "Can we let 'em back on board?"
Mac ran his hand down the back of his head as he thought. "Okay but not on this deck. Is there somewhere else they can work?"
Don nodded. "Maybe they can start on the Promenade deck. Let's go check with the captain on the bridge. Besides there's someone I want you to meet." Don grinned as he called Adam to request the video footage while Mac called Sid. He may not have been able to unleash his Star Trek jokes on Mac but he was definitely going to get him with this one. He and Mac then headed for the stairs, Don motioning for Mac to precede him. As he placed a foot on the stair a sudden draft made him shudder and he had a strange feeling of being watched. Don turned around and glimpsed a shadow. Hearing a dull thud, Don ran for the far end of the foyer towards the auditorium. He pushed through the heavy doors and stopped to listen. All was silent. He jumped as the doors behind him opened and Mac came in.
"Everything all right Don?" asked Mac his face concerned and his hand on his holster as he surveyed the rows of empty seats.
"Er … yeah. Just thought I saw something … well heard something." Don looked around listening carefully but there was nothing just the heavy silence of the empty auditorium. "Guess it was nothing. Probably just Bill's ghost stories making me jumpy." Don turned and made for the stairs followed by Mac. He didn't have to look at him to know that Mac was looking highly amused.
Mac chuckled. "Ghosts?" he asked, his face speaking just one word – scepticism!
"Yeah. According to Bill, years ago some rich passenger was murdered for her jewels and now haunts one of the cabins ... " Don stopped as he realised Mac had stopped and was looking strangely at him.
"Fourteen-oh-eight?"
Don's eyes widened. "How the hell did you know that?"
Mac tipped his head to one side. "It was written in faded ink on the vic's hand."
Don stared at Mac in surprise then without a word, they both turned and headed down rather than up. Don led the way along the silent corridors checking the numbers on the cabin doors. He turned right to make his way across the centre of the ship to the port side. As he approached the right number, the distance between the doors increased indicating that they were entering the section of the ship where the staterooms were located. Don paused outside the door and looked at Mac. For some reason they both put their hands to their holsters. Don turned the handle, surprised to find the door unlocked and pushed it open. They cautiously entered the room. It was magnificent. The huge polished wooden bed with a bronze statuette of wild sea stallions pounding the waves set into a niche above it dominated one side of the room, the other held a couch and low table next to a small desk with a captain's lamp and leather writing set. The furnishings were all in shades of azure, blues and greens. The brass rails and lamps glistened in the sunlight. But something felt wrong.
"Someone has been in this room recently." said Mac almost to himself. Don nodded as he noted that the bed-clothes were not quite smoothed out as though someone had sat down on the bed and left without straightening them out. Mac bent down and picked something up from the floor. "Breadcrumbs."
"Bill said that food has been going missing from the galley and that sandwiches were missing from the crew's break room."
Mac got up and went into the spacious bathroom. He ran a hand across the sink before turning to look back at Don. "Wet! Now I don't believe ghosts eat sandwiches and wash their hands!" Mac grinned at Don who looked somewhat relieved. They took one more look around before heading towards the bridge.
As they made their way along the promenade on the Pool Deck Mac glanced at Don. "You … er … still on for tonight?" he asked.
Don nodded before suppressing a smile. "Though if you want to back out I understand. Wouldn't want to deprive little Miss Purple Eyes of your company." Don jiggled his eyebrows up and down.
"She's working tonight. But if you have plans …?" Mac looked at Don noting a strange expression cross his friends face. "Everything okay Don? You seem kinda distracted lately."
Don hesitated. "No everything's fine. It's just that ..." Don looked at Mac. "There's this woman ..." Mac raised an eyebrow clearly amused. "No it's nothing like that … her name is Janice. She works in dispatch and … this is going to sound crazy … but she knows stuff … about me. Like she knows what colour my bed covers are." Don winced at the incredulous look on his friend's face. "And what I ate for dinner … and that I'd been to the hockey match ..." Don winced again. " … and when I asked her out this morning she says that we've already met … but I swear I've never met her and every time I go to dispatch, she's not there. She's either off-duty, on holiday, stepped out for a moment … and there isn't even a Janice listed as working for dispatch" Don broke off as Mac stopped short.
"You checked the personnel records …?" he asked. Don shifted uncomfortably and blushed guiltily. Mac nodded thoughtfully. "So let me get this right. You're having a ..." Mac suppressed a smile as he started up the steps towards the bridge "... a hot and heavy relationship with a woman from dispatch who you claim you've never met but who knows intimate details about your personal life." Mac stopped at the top of the stairs with his hand on the door to the wheelhouse and a sly smile on his face. Don was now blushing furiously wishing he'd never said anything. He grimaced as Mac laughed and opened the door. "There are times I worry about you Don. You know you should have stuck with that cute little red-head you met at the midsummer ball." Don grimaced not wanting to be reminded of that evening. "Oh but that's right. You lost her name and number in the fountain..." Mac disappeared through the door with a chuckle.
"It wasn't my fault!" Don sighed wishing he hadn't said anything. Captain Pierson looked up as Don and Mac entered.
"Hand's off ye bugger! Stick 'em up!"
Don grinned as Mac jumped. "Mac, allow me to present Jack..." Don creased up laughing. "... the Parrot of the Caribbean!" Mac stared at Don in incomprehension until it dawned on him and he rolled his eyes and shot Don a look intended to kill on the spot.
Captain Pierson's laughter echoed through the bridge. "Oh I like that. Wait till I tell Bill. The Parrot of the Caribbean! … Oh! Sorry! … What can I do for you gentlemen? Can I let NYSAR back on board? Ashelford has been calling me every ten minutes."
Mac threw one last glare at a still laughing Don before turning to address the captain. "I need you to hold off a little longer Captain. I have completed my investigation but there are two things I need your help with. The young man was killed last night between nine and ten with a heavy blunt object. I suspect something that once stood on the altar – a flower vase perhaps?"
Captain Pierson looked surprised for a moment and then nodded. "Yes you're right. Now I come to think of it there are normally two small brass rose bowls either side of the cross on the altar. They weren't there were they?"
Mac shook his head. "There were imprints on the altar cloth where they stood. Both the cloth and carpet were damp as though water had been spilled and there was a wilted petal under the body. Who looks after the chapel on the ship?"
Captain Pierson looked surprised. "Well no one really although Pierre's in charge of the flowers."
Mac nodded. "I'll need to talk to him. The other thing is … well we believe you have a stowaway." The captain looked surprised. "Someone has been using fourteen-oh-eight. There are breadcrumbs on the floor and the sink in the bathroom has been used recently. Captain, who knows the code for the gate on and off the ship?"
"Well the whole crew. We're given the code when we dock and it's changed for the next ship. There's always a crew member to open up for visitors."
Mac nodded as his phone rang. "Adam?" Mac nodded and looked at Don in surprise. "Wow. That's great Adam. Can you send it to my phone? Okay. Look I've sent some samples over to you. Can you run trace as soon as you can? Thanks Adam." Mac stared at his phone for a few seconds until it bleeped. He tapped at the keypad and watched intently.
"Captain, I know the quality isn't good but one of my people was able to pull this from the security camera down on the pier. Can you tell who this is?" Mac held up the phone.
Don and Pierson peered at the small screen. The grainy picture clearly showed the ship and the gangway lit up at night. The time-stamp in the corner indicated it was 9:42pm. They watched as a figure in white clothing and a black cap emerged from a side-door creeping along the outer deck towards the rear of the ship remaining in the shadows. Then quickly the figure dashed to the guard-rail, an arm shot out and something dropped into the water. The figure then scuttled back and disappeared from view.
"It's Alex ... Alex Kingsley … one of Pierre's galley assistants." Pierson's voice was tight and he paled visibly. "I can't believe it." he breathed. For a moment he didn't move until Mac lowered the phone then the captain of the ship was back. "Right, I'll show you to the galley. Pierre will be preparing lunch. This way please gentlemen."
"Putain! Sacrilège!" announced Jack as they left. Mac couldn't help but glance backwards at the brightly coloured bird who was hopping from foot to foot on it's perch. Mac looked quizzically at Don who shrugged nonchalantly.
"Yep swears in French too!" Several minutes later, having crossed a large part of the silent, empty ship, Captain Pierson led them through what was once a grand dining room now devoid of it's fittings and into the kitchens. Pierre Dufour looked up from a pot of steaming water while a red-faced young man with short blond hair and a very round stomach chopped carrots.
"Pierre!" Pierson's voice echoed around the galley making both occupants flinch slightly. "Where is Alex?"
Pierre's face registered shock his eyes flicking nervously between Pierson, Don and Mac. "What? Alex? … Er getting fish from the cooler ..."
Before he could say anything more, double doors at the far end of the galley opened and a young woman with dark hair tied up in a black scarf entered a large tray of fresh fish in her arms. She stopped as she saw Pierson, Mac and Don. "Alex? These police officers need to have a word with you." For a second, no one moved and then Alex suddenly dropped the tray, spun round and took off back through the double doors.
"Shit!" exclaimed Don as he took off in pursuit, jumping over the tray of spilt fish and dodging the heavy doors. Mac hesitated for a moment before following. He could hear Don shouting as he chased the young woman through the doors and down a flight of stairs at the end of a short corridor. Mac heard more doors bang. He ran down the stairs and found himself in a smaller plainer dining room with tables set for about thirty people, obviously intended for the NYSAR crew. Mac dodged around the tables and headed for the doors at the far end. As he ran he felt his phone ringing in his pocket. He grabbed it glancing at the screen. Adam! Mac burst through the doors to find Flack rolling on the floor with a bundle of hissing, spitting and biting female in his arms.
"Get off me you sonofabitch!" squealed Alex as she tried to take a chunk out of Don's arm with her teeth. "This is police brutality!".
"Police brutality! If you use those little fangs on me once more I'll give you police brutality! Now stay down ..." Don managed to get her on her stomach, pushing her face into the carpet of what was obviously the crew's rest area.
"You okay there Don?" Mac asked his eyes sparkling with amusement as Don straddled the little spitfire.
"Oh just peachy! … Thanks for your help … little bitch bit me!" he moaned.
"I ain't dun nuffin!" mumbled Alex her face half squished into the carpet.
"Oh you ain't dun nuffin huh? I'll tell you what you dun. You murdered some poor kid, threw the murder weapon over the side of the ship, and assaulted a police officer ...ME!" Don was not feeling in the best of moods as he looked down at his arm where a little row of teeth marks were nicely reddening up.
"What …?" Alex suddenly stopped squirming. Don loosened his hold slightly. "I didn't murder Nick ..." Alex's voice broke. "Why would I murder my own brother?"
"What …?" Don moved himself to kneel at her side allowing her to turn her tear-filled eyes towards him.
"I know I shouldn't have smuggled him aboard but we had to look one last time before the ship was stripped. They have to be here somewhere. I hid him in fourteen-oh-eight and brought him food. Then this morning Captain Pierson said they had found the body of a young man and Nick wasn't in the cabin ... I didn't know what to do … I couldn't say anything. He wasn't supposed to be here." Alex dissolved into tears as Don looked at Mac in astonishment.
Mac's mind was working overtime but his thoughts were interrupted by his phone. "Adam!" he answered gruffly before his face clearly showed surprise. "Are you sure? Okay thank you Adam." Mac looked at Alex. "Alex. I am sorry about your brother but I need you to help me find out who killed him." Alex swallowed her tears and nodded. "Where you in the galley last night?"
Alex sniffed. "Only until eight-thirty when I brought the flasks of coffee and sandwiches down here for the night crew. I then took Nick his food and he went to search the reading room while I set up the dining room for breakfast."
"What the hell were you searching for?" Don asked.
Alex glared at him as though he were stupid. "Grandmother's jewels of course. They're hidden on board, I know it. Her diary said she suspected her second husband only married her for her money. He was after the jewels. After he murdered her they searched for the jewels but never found them. They said she threw them overboard but I know she would have hid them. My father was only a boy at the time but she wouldn't have deprived him of his inheritance..."
"Let's worry about that later." Mac interrupted. "Did you go anywhere near the chapel last night?" Alex shook her head. "Did you help Pierre with the birthday cake for the captain?"
Again Alex shook her head. "Are you kidding? I don't actually get to cook. The mighty Pierre and his little sidekick wouldn't let me. I'm just there to fetch and carry and peel the potatoes," she huffed.
"Were they in the galley last night?"
Alex thought for a minute. "Yes Pierre was working on the birthday cake and Jamie was … erm … I'm not sure where Jamie was."
Mac spun around and headed back to the galley as Don looked at Alex curiously. "What did you throw over the side of the ship?"
Alex looked down at her feet. "Just trash Nick left in the cabin."
Don got to his feet and hauled Alex to hers. "Come on."
"I'm sorry." mumbled Alex. Don glared at her. " … for biting you!" Don rolled his eyes as he frog-marched her back to the galley. They arrived just in time to find Mac interrogating a blubbering Jamie.
"I don't know anything ..." Jamie looked at Don and Alex nervously as they came in. "Pierre doesn't let me near the patisserie!" Don wasn't surprised judging by the size of the young man's stomach. "I went to my cabin. I was playing on-line with my cousin in Wisconsin. I swear."
Mac looked at the captain. "Where is Pierre?"
"He said something about fetching the coffee tray … which he doesn't normally do." Captain Pierson looked concerned. "Surely you don't think Pierre had something to do with that young man's death...?"
"We found traces of glycerine and confectioners sugar on the victims clothing and on the carpet. Both are used in cake decorating ..." Mac looked at Jamie who nodded in agreement. "If Alex and Jamie had nothing to do with this ..." Mac left the words hanging.
"But why would Pierre want to kill that young man …?" Captain Pierson asked.
Mac looked at Alex. "Was your brother intending to search the chapel?"
Alex nodded. "Grandmother was very religious. He thought perhaps she'd hidden the jewels in the chapel but I told him there was nowhere to hide anything." Alex flinched as the captain glared at her. "I'd already looked."
Mac thought for a moment. "Your brother's prints were on the crucifix as were traces of glycerin… what did that parrot say? Sacrilege! Where's Pierre's cabin?"
Captain Pierson looked stunned. "Four B just down from the crew lounge."
Mac took off at a brisk pace. Don hesitated for a second then pointed at Alex and Jamie. "Stay put! Captain keep an eye on them please." As he was about to head off after Mac, Alex piped up pointing behind her.
"It'll be quicker if you take the back stairs behind the cooler. They bring you out in the crew dining room."
Don looked at her but she seemed genuinely as though she wanted to help him. Don took off in the direction she had indicated. Just as he pushed the doors open he heard shouting. He raced across the room and out through the double doors into the crew rest area almost colliding into Scotty.
"What the devil is going on?" Scotty looked outraged. "That crazy Frenchman came tearing through 'ere like a bat outta hell!"
"Where did he go?"
"He was headed fo'ard with some other bloke hot on his heels." Scotty had barely lifted an arm before Don was gone. "Whole damn ship's gone mad!" he muttered.
Don raced along the corridor and, yanking open a door found himself on a narrow promenade under the boat deck, the huge lifeboats hanging immobile in their cradles above his head. Don raced down the walkway and took the narrow set of stairs up to the next deck. He looked both ways but there was nothing then a shout drew his attention. It sounded as it came from above him. He headed towards another set of stairs, breathing heavily and wishing that he hadn't indulged in Pierre's pastries that morning. As he arrived on the Pool Deck he realized he was at the wrong end of the ship. He sprinted past the pools glimpsing two figures at the far end climbing the stairs to the Sun Deck. His heart pounding he made it to the top of the stairs in time to see Mac locked hand to hand with Pierre on the walkway to the bridge. Sunlight flashed off metal. Don swore as he realized that Pierre had a knife. He watched helplessly as Mac attempted to disarm him but Pierre pushed off the glass-fronted wheelhouse his momentum throwing both men against the railing. Then everything seemed to happen in slow motion. The rusted railing gave way and both men toppled, plunging towards the sun deck. The almighty crash brought Bill Higgins running out from the wheelhouse to look down in horror.
"Mac!" Don flew across the deck to come to a sliding halt at the base of the stairs to the bridge. He stared in astonishment as the pile of blue and white stripy cushions moved and Mac stood up. Disoriented Mac stood for a second with his back to him before turning around and spotting Don.
"Where'd he go?" he asked blinking before attempting to take a step and collapsing back onto the cushions with a surprised look on his face. Don sighed with relief to find his friend relatively unharmed though a little shaky from his tumble.
"You okay Mac?"
Mac smiled and looked up at Bill Higgins who was still staring down at them in shock. "Just peachy Don. Just peachy!" As Don stuck out an arm to help Mac up, a groan came from among the pile of plastic sun-loungers to his right.
"Putain!"
Don grinned and began to move the sun-loungers. He eventually found Pierre cradling a broken arm. An hour later, Don had had Pierre escorted to hospital. Mac had refused to be checked out which hadn't come as a surprise but he had taken off claiming it was his day off which was a surprise. Don looked at Alex who was sitting mournfully in a corner of the crew lounge giving a statement to a uniformed officer under the watchful eye of Bill Higgins.
"Detective Flack?" Don turned around to face Captain Pierson. "Thank you for clearing this up so rapidly" Pierson shook his hand but his face was full of sadness. "I can't understand it. I've known Pierre for so many years. My crew are like family." Don felt sorry for him.
"If it's any comfort Sir, he didn't mean to kill the boy. He thought he was stealing the crucifix. He just tried to stop him."
Pierson nodded sadly . "But all the same ..."
Don sighed knowing that there was little else he could say."Well I need to be getting back to the precinct to finish the paperwork."
"If you're free this evening, Detective, you're welcome to join us for the captain's birthday. Eight til late!" Bill offered as he joined them.
Don smiled. "Thank you but I have a prior engagement." As Don took his leave, he wondered what Mac wanted to talk to him about. He thought back to the surreptitious smile that had crossed Mac's lips when the Captain had spoken of getting remarried. Don couldn't help but smile to himself as he wondered if that was what his friend had in mind.
Later that evening Don jumped out of a cab in front of the restaurant that Mac had reserved. His stomach growled in anticipation. He had been meaning to try this place out for a while. He pushed in through the doors and looked around the crowded room. Must be good, he thought to himself.
"Hi can I help you?" A young blond waitress smiled up at him.
"Reservation in the name of Taylor."
"Oh yes! You're expected!" she grinned. "Booth at the back. This way." Don followed the young woman as she threaded her way among the tables. She stopped and pointed to a table. Don froze. He was sure he must have looked like a perfect idiot as he gawked at the table.
"Hey Don!" Mac grinned at him innocently.
"Hello there Detective Flack. Nice to see you again!" Lisa smiled, her emerald green eyes sparkling with amusement.
Don opened his mouth and closed it again unable to form words. He couldn't take his eyes away from the third person at the table.
Lisa grinned. "I believe you already know my sister?"
"Well hello there Handsome! I decided to take you up on your offer of dinner after all." Janice grinned at Don. Don opened his mouth and closed it again, still unable to form words. Then something clicked. He stared at Lisa.
"Your sister...?" Lisa nodded. Don looked at Mac whose eyes were glittering with amusement.
"You … it was you!" Don was flabbergasted as Mac's face split into a grin.
"Aren't you going to sit down Don?" Mac nodded to the tables behind Don who were all eyeing him suspiciously. Don suddenly felt self-conscious and he slid into the booth next to Janice. He looked at her and she burst out laughing.
"Oh if you could see the look on your face!" she giggled. "Serves you right for losing my number."
"But ..." stammered Don as he looked between the three of them.
"Don't worry!" giggled Janice. "Mac explained."
"But ..." stammered Don again. "How...?"
"It started off when you got shot." Mac explained. "I was sitting with you when Lisa came into the room wanting to see 'the man who had broke her sister's heart after the midsummer ball'. I explained how we'd got the call and how you chased the perp and landed in the fountain losing the napkin with her name and number. And how you were devastated ..." Mac grinned even more as Don blushed a deep red. "So Lisa talked to Jani and we decided to have a little fun with you..."
"Oh hell!" Don buried his face in his hands as he realized that, of course, Mac had been to his apartment many times after work for drink and knew his apartment inside out. Mac had been at the hockey match with him. He'd even been there when they were having dinner. "You sonofa..."
Don looked up at his friend not believing that Mac would pull off something like this. Lisa and Jani giggled at his discomfort. Don looked at Jani. "You were a redhead at the party!" he moaned. "And a brunette when I called at dispatch … with glasses... " He looked at her trying to decide what colour he would describe her as now as there were so many high-lights of copper and gold in her hair she seemed to positively sparkle.
Janice giggled and hugged his arm. "Forgive me …?" She smiled prettily at him and his heart melted.
Don nodded. "You! Yes!" Then he pointed a finger at Mac. "You! No!" But his eyes said otherwise. Then Don frowned. "But I checked the personnel files – there is no Janice working for dispatch." Mac blushed.
Lisa laughed. "Oh he got one of his lab techs to fix the results of the computer search." Don stared at Mac who was looking a little uncomfortable. His eyes narrowed.
"Adam!" he blurted out. "You got Adam to fix … but how did you know that I would...?"
Mac shrugged. "Because that's what I would have done!"
"You are going to pay … dearly!" he hissed.
Mac lifted a menu and rolled his eyes. "Judging by these prices I guess I am."
Don laughed as the waitress approached to take their order. After a sumptuous meal, they sat sipping at their wine and laughing. Don could hardly believe the change that had come over his friend. He was relaxed and happy and Don was glad for him. Don looked at Jani as Lisa called her sister, at her ready smile and sense of fun. He missed Jess desperately but he knew he couldn't bring her back. Captain Pierson's words came back to him. "Life often reserves many a surprise … and when we least expect it."
"So what do you say Don …?" asked Jani.
"Er sorry …?"
"Sunday lunch?" she asked.
"Er yeah sure. That'd be great!" Don smiled.
"Wonderful!" Lisa clapped her hands. "Our other sisters can't wait to meet you both."
Mac and Don froze and looked at one another questioningly before turning to their respective partners.
"Other sisters?" they asked tentatively.
"Oh you'll love them." gushed Jani.
"Mary-Ann is the eldest, married to a lawyer and has four children. All girls!" explained Lisa. The two men flinched as Jani continued.
"Josie is number three after Lisa and before me. She has a partner called Brett in the Coastguard and is expecting twins."
"Emma is the youngest. She's the artistic one. "
"She's a sculptor. She's into bronzes at the moment."
"Bronzes?" said Mac thoughtfully looking at Lisa.
"I've got to confess that they're a little weird – large bulbous things. But you'll adore Emmy." Lisa looked at Mac with her luminous emerald eyes.
"Agh! Bronzes!" he exclaimed. Everyone looked at him strangely as he clasped his head in his hands.
"You feeling okay Mac?" Don looked at friend with worry. Maybe the fall had done some damage.
Mac turned to Lisa and grabbed her kissing her firmly on the lips. "Genius!" Lisa looked stunned while Don contemplated calling 911. Mac signalled to the waitress for the check. He turned to Don. "Bronzes! … They're hollow!"
Lisa and Jani stared at Mac as though he'd gone completely mad. Don frowned for a moment and then a slow grin spread across his face as it dawned on him what Mac was talking about.
"Girls! How you would like to go on a little treasure hunt on an ocean liner?"
Lisa and Jani looked at one another and grinned like schoolgirls. "Oh you boys are such fun!"