The body of the victim was covered by a towel around the pelvic area so we wouldn’t have to see him in all his naked glory, although I didn’t see why Downes deserved such dignity after the way he had attacked me. Aside from this, he lay face up, his throat cut from side to side, with the bed linen around him saturated in his blood. His mouth was open in a chilling grin while his eyes were frozen as if gazing into a void of terror. He had probably seen his killer coming directly at him.
Aside from our group, only the ship’s doctor and Jerry Garcia were present at the scene. “The captain just left to make a call ahead to the authorities in Pago Pago,” Garcia informed us as he nodded a greeting and momentarily stopped taking photographs of the victim. His face looked grim. “This brings back memories of my days in homicide. One of the reasons I quit the force.”
Dobbs nodded with understanding. He could obviously relate. Smythe, in the meantime, had a quiet word with the doctor and then went on to examine the scene while he took notes. I turned to Chris to ensure he was okay. He’d probably never seen anything so horrible, but he seemed to be handling it. We stood back from the scene so as not to get in anyone’s way or contaminate any evidence.
From my vantage point, I noticed something shiny sticking out from under the bed. “Smythe,” I called and pointed with my chin toward the object.
Smythe got closer to take a look but didn’t yet touch it. “Doc, did you see this?”
The ship’s doctor moved to where Smythe was crouched and shook his head. “No.”
“May I?” Smythe asked and helped himself to a pair of latex gloves from a box, which someone had had the foresight to bring along.
“Go right ahead.” The doctor went back to examining the body.
“What have you got, Phil?” Garcia came to stand next to Chris and me, followed by Dobbs. The cabin was too small for all of us to wander about, plus the atmosphere felt oppressive.
Smythe drew out the instrument. “A scalpel,” the doctor exclaimed when he saw what Smythe held by the tip of his gloved fingers.
“You’ll have to check if any such equipment is missing from the ship’s medical centre, Doc,” Smythe suggested. “Meanwhile, we’ll run this for prints. Garcia?”
Garcia grabbed a plastic bag from the evidence kit he had with him and bagged the item.
“What if someone brought it onboard?” I suggested. “After all, we have a whole bunch of doctors running around.”
Garcia nodded. “We always run the luggage through x-ray, of course, but it could’ve been easily missed or mistaken for something else. This item can look like a nail file or some sort of hair clipping instrument. So yes, one of the convention people could have brought it onboard.”
The cabin was getting really stuffy with all of us in it, and I noticed Chris had started to go a bit green around the gills. “Why don’t we leave you gentlemen to work the scene for now? Chris and I are in the way here.” Then, I turned to a surprised-looking Smythe. “Let’s all meet up later for a catch-up.” He nodded with the hint of a grateful smile.
I took hold of Chris’s arm, in case he should faint, and turned to go. Dobbs stepped out into the passageway with us. “That’s a good thing you did, Ferrari,” he said with pride in his eyes.
“What’s that?”
“Staying out of the way willingly,” he returned with a smirk. “And no sparks flying, either! You and Smythe have come a long way.”
I grinned. “Don’t push your luck, Dobbs. Just be thankful Chris needs a breath of fresh air.”
Chris was too immersed in his own thoughts to comment and Dobbs went back inside the cabin with a smile on his face. I led my companion away from the scene.
~~~
We regrouped with Dobbs, Smythe and Garcia a couple of hours later at The Mariners’ Hub. It was almost midnight, but the staff kept the café open just for us. Rather than coffee this time, we ordered alcoholic drinks. I figured this was one night when we all needed a stiff drink.
“You’re right about the scalpel, Mia,” Garcia began while we sipped on our drinks. “Doc Jones checked the medical centre time and again, and not one piece of equipment was missing.”
“Was he able to establish time of death?”
“He said somewhere between five and seven this evening, judging by body temperature and the onset of rigor mortis.”
“I noticed the aircon in the cabin was quite cold when we first arrived at the scene,” I commented. “I guess the killer wanted to throw us off the time of death as much as possible.”
“But why do this? We still don’t know who he is,” Chris stated, sipping quickly on a multi-coloured cocktail.
I shrugged. “I think he enjoys playing around with us. But one thing is for sure.”
“What’s that?” Smythe asked. He was drinking straight whisky.
“The guy’s either a doctor or he has medical training of some kind.” I fleetingly thought of Enrico.
“You’re right, of course,” Chris piped in. “Using a scalpel takes some skill.”
“Not only this,” Dobbs put in while sipping on a coffee liqueur and cream concoction. “Doc Jones definitely confirmed the killer sliced right through both the jugular veins plus the carotid. The guy died within a minute.”
“That would explain the blood splashing all over the place, and it points to the killer having the medical knowledge of knowing exactly where to cut to get to all the arteries at once,” I stated. “But why was Downes naked?”
“Taking a nap when the killer happened upon him?” Garcia suggested.
“Was there any sign of sexual interference?” I still had Enrico in the forefront of my mind. Perhaps, the good doctor had been bi-sexual and he’d enjoyed his last afternoon delight before being dispatched to the great beyond.
“Doc said he doesn’t think so, but we’ll know more when we get to Hawaii and get the experts to take a look.” Garcia knocked back his tequila shot in one gulp. “Aside from this, there were no fingerprints I could find on the scalpel. But again, we don’t have the latest technology onboard; so this’ll have to wait, too.”
I turned to Smythe. “Any CCTV outside the cabin?”
He shook his head. “Some. But believe it or not, this guy must know exactly where all the cameras are positioned because we didn’t catch anything.”
We all sighed at the same time, feeling stumped. Then, Garcia stood. “The captain’s waiting for my full report, so I have to go.” He turned to Dobbs and Smythe. “Tomorrow, my department will run the safety information seminar with the convention group. I’d appreciate it if both of you attend. I think the group will feel more reassured knowing we have some police presence.”
Smythe sounded cynical when he remarked, “Yeah, right, after four murders.”
Garcia shrugged. “At least we can give them a few ideas on how to keep their wits about them.”
Dobbs nodded. “True. Safety in numbers; that sort of thing.”
“Well, I bid you all good night,” Garcia said, “and thank you for your hard work. It’s a good thing you people happened to be on this trip. I can just imagine how much more work we’d have on our hands if we were alone. Our department’s not equipped to handle this type of thing.” He gave us a parting smile and went on his way.
“Why is the killer getting bolder?” I played with my drink of rum and Coke.
Dobbs finished his drink and gazed my way. “You’re right. At first, there was all this skulking around, but now the guy’s walking straight into people’s cabins.”
“Which means he knew his victim,” I jumped in just as Smythe was about to make an observation that was probably the same as mine.
Smythe nodded, confirming my supposition. “Not only this, but unless Downes slept in the nude, I have to wonder whether there’s an element of sexual humiliation in there somewhere. Providing, that is, the victim was not engaged in any sexual acts pre-mortem.”
I felt a jolt of excitement at his statement. “You’re right! Remember I talked about Erotic Heart’s S&M activities? She was into humiliation. This would add to the theory that the killer is Erotic Heart’s partner and he’s seeking vengeance in kind. Perhaps, Erotic Heart and Downes were into S&M together, hence the reason the killer wanted the victim to go in a humiliating way.”
Chris interjected, “I would hardly call slitting someone’s throat while they’re naked humiliating; it’s more like terrifying.”
“True,” I replied. “But perhaps the killer made him undress first and perform some kind of humiliating act, like begging for his life or something.”
“Then, why not cut his balls off instead?” Chris suggested with frustration. “That’s humiliating enough.”
It was obvious the events of the evening had affected him more deeply than they had the rest of us. I became concerned. After all, Chris had recently turned twenty and he’d probably never seen a dead body. “Chris, I think you should get some rest. I’m going to have some homework for you to do in the morning.”
This seemed to perk him up. Anything to do with IT, he could handle. “What is it you want me to do?”
“I want you to identify which threads the victims were most active in, and see if you can find a link between them and Erotic Heart. At the moment, we have all the victims, except for Downes, posting on the forum. But we need proof they actually engaged in sexual activity with Erotic Heart. Not only this, I’m sure Downes is in the S&M forum somewhere, but you’ll need to come up with his username and link him to Erotic Heart.”
Chris looked a lot more animated as he stood. “I’m off to work on this right now. There’s no way I can sleep after seeing that guy’s blood all over the place. I’ll see you in the morning.”
When Chris left, I remarked, “This is my fault. I should watch out for Chris more closely, but he’s so clever and mature that I sometimes forget he’s so young.”
Dobbs patted my arm in reassurance. “Mia, you’re doing your best. And don’t worry about the boy; he can handle it.”
“Yeah, well, let’s hope his father doesn’t chew off my head for exposing him to all this.”
Smythe remarked, “Mia, don’t forget it was Mr Rourke who suggested we investigate in the first place.”
“Yes, but he meant us, the adults—not his son. David has no idea Chris helps me with investigations,” I confessed.
Dobbs remained silent and Smythe frowned momentarily. “Well, don’t worry your head about it just now. I’ll deal with Rourke when the time comes.”
I was surprised at his comment but felt warmed by it, or perhaps it was the alcohol I’d consumed.
Dobbs stifled a yawn and glanced at his watch. “It’s almost 1.00am. I say we all get some shuteye. Nothing more we can do tonight.”
We left the café and started making our way toward the lifts. “I need a walk first,” I said to the others. “I can’t go to sleep with my thoughts in such a jumble.”
Dobbs yawned again, and this time he couldn’t suppress it. “You go, Mia. I’m done for.” By this time, we reached the lifts and one of them stopped on our floor, its doors swishing open. “Phil, you coming?”
“I think I’ll walk with Mia. Remember, safety in numbers.”
I tried not to smile when I caught a wink from Dobbs before the doors slid shut. Smythe led the way to the Promenade Deck that was deserted when we went out and leaned at the rail, looking out to sea. No moon was present, but the stars in the indigo sky provided us with a twinkling dome of light.
“Not too cold for you?” Smythe asked, glancing at the sleeveless white cotton dress I wore.
I warmed up under his gaze and felt like a heater had just been switched on. “Um... no, no,” I assured him. “The breeze is surprisingly mild tonight. Not a nice night for murder, is it?” I decided to keep our conversation on a professional level.
“Is it ever?” His eyes skimmed the horizon that was practically invisible as you couldn’t see where the ocean met the sky in the moonless night.
I shrugged. “I guess not. You know, it’s just spooky this killer is getting so bold. I mean, going to the victim’s cabin is a huge leap from pushing someone overboard in the dark.”
Smythe nodded. “I know. But oftentimes this kind of killer wants to be caught, albeit at a subconscious level. Remember, he probably called in the first kill himself. I guess he felt a certain power in doing so.”
“You mean so the world can validate his acts?”
“Something like that. I’m no forensic psychologist, but I’ve dealt with enough cases in my career. First, they’re really careful, but in later kills they seem to get less guarded, sometimes even sloppy.”
I frowned. “But we’re not dealing with a serial killer. It’s just multiple homicides—a crime of passion.”
“Sometimes there’s a fine line between them,” Smythe replied, his jaw firm. “Whatever they are, I hate these guys. They’re the scourge of society.”
I thought back to the last case I’d worked where Smythe saved my life. I shivered involuntarily and almost jumped when I felt his hands on my shoulders.
“You are cold after all,” he said. “Let’s go back inside.”
“No, it’s okay. I was just thinking about... well... the last case. I never did thank you properly for looking after me.” I did nothing to shake his hands off my shoulders, nor did he take them off.
He turned me to face him squarely. “Mia...”
The magnetism between us was too much for me and I thought my skin would start sizzling any second now. I gently pulled away. “I do appreciate your saving my life and sticking by me, even though I drove you insane with my interfering.”
We both turned back to the rail and Smythe laughed gently. “You really are a handful at times. But I also have you to thank for helping solve those murders.”
“And Chris, of course. I couldn’t have done it without him,” I reminded him.
He nodded. “Of course. Chris is a bright fellow and he’ll be a credit to any future employer.”
I smiled. “Well, right now, he’s coming in very handy, and he’s a credit to me. I’m like a mother to him, you know?” I decided to confide in him. “Chris’s mother never had much time for him.”
“Ah yes, you mean the beautiful Elena.” Smythe had met her in the course of his investigation of a suicide at our hotel about a year ago. “So where is she now?”
“Who knows? I think she’s enjoying life in the rich playgrounds of Europe. According to Chris, she barely keeps in touch.”
Smythe shook his head. “Her loss, I’m sure. And I assume she cleaned out old man Rourke?”
My body stiffened for a moment and Smythe shot me a querying look. “I wasn’t privy to his settlement arrangements with her.”
“So what’s wrong?”
I played the innocent. “What’s wrong with what?”
He smiled. “You’ve gone all uppity on me.”
I hated it when he read me so well. “I have? Well, maybe it’s because David’s not ‘old man Rourke’, as you put it. In fact, he’s younger than you, Smythe.”
“Okay, so he’s what... forty, forty-one?”
“Forty to your forty-four, if I remember your age correctly.”
“Fine, so I’m forty-four. Big deal! I’m not in competition with him, you know. But you seem to think so.”
This threw me. “It’s not like that,” I stated a tad too firmly.
Curious eyes regarded me. “But I guess at some stage it was?”
I raised my chin and looked out to sea. “No comment.”
Smythe’s hands suddenly reached out for me again, and this time he brought my body right up against his. I felt the hard muscles of his stomach and chest against my breasts and I turned to putty in his hands. My five-foot-nothing frame was at the mercy of his six-foot-three athletic build. I could have struggled, but didn’t.
“What, no complaints, comments, or otherwise?” he taunted me. I simply gazed into his eyes with a passion I couldn’t stem, much to my annoyance, and heard him say, “I’ve wanted to do this for a long time.”
Before I could do or say anything, his mouth assaulted mine in a kiss that left nothing to the imagination. I opened up under him and his tongue invaded me while his arms tightened around my body, making escape impossible.
We kissed for a long time—meltingly, passionately, erotically—and I wanted the kiss to go on and on, never to end. I felt safe, loved. I was home. How would I ever kiss another man after this? I pushed closer into him, if that were possible, and felt his hardness against me. Images of us lying naked in his bed with him inside me invaded my mind. I instantly felt wet. I couldn’t wait to have him.
“He’s a good lay...” The statement flashed abruptly into my head. Amanda Wilson’s statement, to be exact. She’d said this when describing Smythe’s skill in the bedroom, only a few months ago. I froze.
Smythe sensed the change in mood because all of a sudden I was free of his arms, his eyes regarding me with confusion. “What is it?”
Anger overtook my other emotions. “You have the nerve to ask?” I took a couple of steps back from him. “How dare you kiss me after professing your love for Amanda just a few short months ago?” He went to answer, but I didn’t let him. “You bloody men are all the same! Amanda didn’t want you, so now I’m your rebound shag?”
Smythe seemed genuinely shocked. “What are you talking about? I thought I was falling hard for Amanda, but there was always something in the background that stopped me from—”
I put up my hands to ward off any excuses. “Please, spare me the explanation, Smythe. Whatever was in the background certainly didn’t stop you from going to bed with her.”
Now, he looked like he was going to push me overboard. He was onto me in a flash, his hands on my shoulders, trying to shake me into reason. “It was you, Ferrari! You, who was always in the background. I wanted you! Are you satisfied now? And who said anything about a rebound shag? We didn’t even get to the bedroom, for God’s sake! And believe me, when we do, it will never, ever be a rebound anything!”
I was awestruck. I had no comeback. I hated myself because tears of frustration started rolling down my face and Smythe saw them. So I did the only thing I could do, I pushed with all my might and sent him reeling a few steps away from me. Then, I ran away.