Sea Salt Caramel Murder (A Maple Hills Cozy Mystery Book 4) (3 page)

H
awk shook his head
, walked back to the dining room, and sat down. The smell of delicious food, the sight of people laughing, talking, and enjoying themselves, the sounds of dinnerware clanging and clattering—it all faded away. Like a man in a tunnel, he saw only at Captain Mayfield's angry, deceitful face in his mind. “What is it?” Nikki asked Hawk in a worried voice. Reading Hawk’s face, she could clearly see that he had come upon some very disturbing information.

Herbert put down his fork. Lidia leaned forward on her elbows. “Speak to us,” she told Hawk.

“What did you find out?” Herbert insisted. The expression on Hawk's face troubled him. Never the type of man to allow panic to overwhelm his composure, he stared at Hawk with forced patience.

“Storm is coming in from behind us,” Hawk whispered. Glancing around to ensure other passengers were not focused on his table, he continued. “Mayfield has ordered his second in command to keep the ship on course. Seems this storm system is pushing all the ships in, and all the ports are filling up.”

“What does that mean?” Lidia asked, confused.

Hawk looked at Nikki and then to Lidia. “Mayfield's second in command wanted to take this ship farther out to sea, farther west, to move away from the storm. The storm is moving north, right on our tail, it seems. Mayfield wouldn't hear of it. Mayfield has given the order to ride the storm if we get caught in it.”

Nikki studied Hawk's face. “Hawk, there's something else, isn't there?”

Hawk nodded. “Something about swells...Mayfield's second in command...I remember seeing this man earlier. His last name is Lane; he mentioned something about swells and seemed awful worried about the forecasts. I'm guessing we're not talking kiddie-pool swells, guys. Mayfield cut Lane off before he could finish, though.”

“Oh dear,” Lidia gasped. “Hawk, you're a cop. Go tell that man to return us to Seattle this instant.”

“That's what Lane suggested, but Mayfield refused. If he returns this ship to home port he's worried all the passengers will request refunds. But my gut tells me that's a lie. The man has an agenda.”

Nikki pushed her mind back in time a few hours. She saw the Chinese man walking out of the men's bathroom carrying a briefcase. “And Captain Mayfield followed that man out,” she whispered.

“What?” Hawk asked.

“Oh, go ahead and tell him,” Lidia caved in. “Better yet, I will. Hawk, earlier, when Nikki and I were walking to the tea room, we saw that rude Chinese man walk out of a men's public restroom. He was carrying a briefcase in his hand. Captain Mayfield walked out of the bathroom behind him.”

“The Chinese man wasn't carrying a briefcase when we first saw him walk down the hallway,” Nikki pointed out.

“And,” Lidia sighed, “I saw our Chinese friend stick his head in this dining room a short while ago, spot Captain Mayfield, and then leave.”

“How long ago?” Nikki asked.

“Shortly before this Mr. Lane walked in and gave Captain Mayfield the weather report,” Lidia explained.

“There's Captain Mayfield,” Herbert said in a hushed whisper. Picking up his fork, he took a bite of salmon and smiled in Captain Mayfield's direction. Captain Mayfield paid no mind to Herbert. He walked straight to his table, told his dinner guests that he had to return to the bridge, and excused himself.

Hawk began to stand up. As he did, the lights in the dining room went out. Darkness rolled across the room like a heavy swell filled with watery graves. Women began screaming. Out of instinct, Hawk bent down, lifted his pants leg, and snatched the gun attached to his right ankle out of its holster. Before he could stand up, the lights came on again. And there, lying dead in the middle of the dining room, lay Captain Mayfield's body. More screams erupted.

Nikki shot to her feet. “Hawk?”

Hawk, realizing that he was holding a gun in his hand and that people were staring at him, quickly grabbed his badge from the back pocket of his pants and stood up. “My name is Detective Daily,” he called out and began waving his badge around in the air. “I need everyone to remain seated.”

Lidia grabbed Herbert’s hand. “Not a word,” she begged him. “Please don't call Nikki a jinx.”

Herbert simply picked up a glass of water and took a drink. “When this ship sinks, then I’ll call her a jinx.”

Hearing Herbert’s remark hurt Nikki's feelings. Forcing her mind to stay focused, she remained at Hawk's side as he continued to reassure everyone that he was a cop. As the screams slowly began to settle down, she followed Hawk over to Captain Mayfield's body. “Look,” she said pointing at the man's neck.

Hawk nodded his head. Bending down, he examined a wooden dart lodged in Captain Mayfield’s throat. The dart was two inches in length, thin but firm, made of bamboo. “A poison dart,” Hawk told Nikki. Shaking his head, he looked over his shoulder toward the set of doors leading into the dining room. The doors were open. “Whoever killed Mayfield had an accomplice. Someone threw the lights while the other blew the dart.”

Nikki looked at Hawk. “Hawk, I...”

“Did you pack your gun like I told you?”

Nikki nodded her head. “Yes,” she said, lowering her eyes back down to Captain Mayfield's face. “Someone should go get the ship's doctor.”

Hawk saw Brody run into the dining room, spot Captain Mayfield lying on the floor, and rush over. “What happened?”

“This man has been murdered,” Hawk told Brody. Standing up, he showed Brody his badge and then pointed at the dart sticking out of Captain Mayfield's neck. “Go get the ship’s doctor.”

“I...yes, of course, Detective,” Brody said, staring down at Captain Mayfield with disturbed eyes. Hurrying away, he vanished out into the hallway.

“Well,” Hawk said, “seems like we're in a real spot, Nikki.”

Nikki didn't reply. In her mind, she studied every feature of the Chinese man. Then she studied the briefcase she saw the man carrying. Outside the storm grew worse as the seas began to dig a watery grave for the doomed ship.

“
S
he's with me
,” Hawk told a man resembling a scarecrow with dark, stringy, black hair.

The man, wearing a neat and crisp blue and white uniform, moved away from the door leading into the medical bay. Hawk motioned for Nikki to follow him. Nikki nodded, looked to her left at Lidia and Herbert, and asked them to stay out in the passageway. “You can count on that,” Lidia promised.

Walking into a medium-sized room with a green and white linoleum floor, Nikki carefully absorbed the layout: White metal shelves holding medical supplies attached to the left and right walls, three medical beds were pushed up against the back wall, an examining bed sat in the middle of the room, a wooden desk sat under a white medical cabinet on the right wall. The medical bay, Nikki guessed, appeared normal—normal except for a dead body lying on the examining bed. “Well?” Hawk asked Dr. Carter Rowen.

Dr. Rowen looked at Brody. Brody was standing at the wooden desk nibbling on his thumbnail. “Shouldn't you be getting us back to the home port?” Nikki asked him.

“I heard the conversation between you and Mayfield,” Hawk told Brody in a stern tone. “So go turn this ship around and—”

“I can't,” Brody interrupted Hawk in a desperate voice. “I can't even call the Captain's death into the mainland.” Nikki watched Brody pull a piece of paper out of his pocket. “When I left the dining room I went back to the bridge to call the doctor. My immediate goal was to turn the ship around and head home, but this note was taped to the bridge door.”

Hawk took the note from Brody and read it. Shaking his head, he handed the note to Nikki. “He has to keep the ship on course and make contact with the Coast Guard or the mainland only when contacted.”

“And I have to pretend everything is okay,” Brody added.

“If you disobey,” Nikki read the note, “more people will die.” The killer states he has eyes everywhere.

Dr. Rowen didn't seem bothered by the note. Instead, he walked to the wooden desk, brushed Brody aside, opened the top right drawer, and brought out a bottle of brandy. “Lovely voyage,” he said, opening the bottle. Nikki watched him take a long, hard swig. “Now,” he said, putting the bottle of brandy back into the desk drawer and focusing on Captain Mayfield, “about our dear, distinguished captain here.”

“What do you know about the dart?” Hawk asked following Dr. Rowen over to the examining table. Nikki, still holding onto the note, followed Hawk.

“Bamboo,” Dr. Rowen answered Hawk, “with a very small needle attached to the tip. The tip of the needle was dipped in poison. What kind of poison I do not know, but,” Dr. Rowen said, pointing to Captain Mayfield's body, “as you can see, whatever type of poison was used, it is very deadly.”

“And the killer—or killers—probably have more of that poison,” Nikki said worriedly.

Hawk nodded. “Makes me want to put a suit of armor on.”

Nikki turned her attention away from Captain Mayfield and focused on Brody. “Mr. Lane, tell me about yourself. I don't mean to be pushy, but Detective Hawk heard Captain Mayfield mention a ship called the
Blue Pearl
.”

Brody stiffened. Dr. Rowen folded his arms together and chuckled arrogantly. “Our dear Mr. Lane has a dark past,” he said.

“Shut up,” Brody warned Dr. Rowen.

“Or what?” Dr. Rowen chuckled again. “You see,” he told Nikki, “Mr. Lane was once the captain of a very fine cruise ship called the
Blue Pearl
. The ship belonged to a company in China.”

“China?” Nikki asked.

“Shut up, Rowen,” Brody barked again. Hawk held up his hand and shook his head.

Dr. Rowen sneered at Brody. “Mr. Lane's wife is Chinese, didn't he tell you? Anyway, he began work on the beautiful
Blue Pearl
. Oh, but tragedy struck. On a very dark and stormy night, Mr. Lane ran the ship into a cargo ship. The
Blue Pearl
was severely damaged and began to sink. Luckily no soul perished. Afterward, Mr. Lane was tarred and feathered, so to speak, and his life as a sea captain was over.”

“It was proven that the captain of that cargo ship was drunk,” Brody said in a desperate voice now that his secret was out. “We were caught on the outer edge of a typhoon. I was pulling the ship inland—the sea was unbearable. I didn't see the cargo ship. Suddenly, it appeared over a wave and crashed into the port side of the
Blue Pearl
.”

“Oh, but it was also proven that you had a hint of whiskey on your breath, as well,” Dr. Rowen added.

“That's not true. I never drank on duty,” Brody yelled. Running his hands through his hair he began to pace around the medical bay. “It's true, I was once a drunk. I spent many years on the bottle. But then I met my wife, and she is a God-fearing woman. She changed me. I never went to church before, but we did, all the time.”

“I believe you,” Nikki promised Brody. Walking over to the man, she put her hand on his shoulder. “Your wife is sick, isn't she?”

“She has a rare blood disease. The medical treatments are costly. I knew Captain Mayfield from the old days. One day he called me out of the blue and offered me a job. Money was tight; my wife needed her medical treatments, so I accepted,” Brody explained. “I moved my wife to Seattle and began working on this ship.”

“Was Mayfield involved in any shady side-doing?” Hawk asked.

Brody tensed. “Detective Hawk, my job was to sail this ship. What Captain Mayfield did was his business. My only concern is my wife and a paycheck. This ship brings in good money—a lot of money has gone into making this ship what it is.”

“But?” Nikki asked, reading Brody's facial expression. The man was withholding something.

Brody looked at Dr. Rowen. Dr. Rowen shrugged his shoulders. “Don't look at me. I only give out seasickness pills.”

“Talk to me, Mr. Lane. Please,” Hawk insisted.

Brody walked over to the wooden desk, sat down in a black chair, and placed his hands together. “Captain Mayfield was using this ship for something. I don't know what, and I never did. It's like I said, my main concern is for my wife and a paycheck,” he confessed.

“Go on,” Hawk told Brody.

“I've seen certain passengers on this ship...shady characters, as you cops would say. I never asked questions, though. But when I kept seeing the same repeat passengers, I became suspicious. So last month, I set up a hidden camera in Captain Mayfield's room. Boy, if he had caught me, he would have fed me to the sharks...but I have my wife to take care of, you understand. If Captain Mayfield was involved in a criminal activity, I couldn't take the chance of being connected with him.”

“I understand,” Hawk assured Brody.

Brody rotated his neck to release tension before he continued. “It's true, Captain Mayfield was involved in criminal activity. He was smuggling diamonds, guns, counterfeit money—but not drugs.”

“And you caught this on the hidden camera?” Nikki asked.

Brody nodded his head. “I put the tape in a safety deposit box at my bank. You know, just in case Captain Mayfield tried to pull anything, I had a hidden card up my sleeve to play.”

“While willfully breaking the law by not reporting the man to the authorities,” Hawk added.

“Detective Hawk, do you have a sick wife?” Brody snapped. “Do you see your wife sick day in and day out? Do you see your wife so weak at times that she can't even make it to the bathroom on her own? Do you fight with a selfish insurance company that refuses to pay only twenty percent of her medical bills? Do you, huh?”

“No,” Hawk admitted.

“Well I do,” Brody said, fighting back tears. “This company pays me good money, money that pays for my wife's medical treatments. So if I broke the law by not reporting the man who got me this job, then arrest me. But let me tell you something, Detective, when the life of your loved one is on the line, you do your job and keep your mouth shut!”

“Bravo,” Doctor Rowen clapped.

“Shut your mouth,” Brody warned in a voice that caused Dr. Rowen to immediately stop clapping. “My wife is home with a caretaker right now. My only concern is getting back to her. But if I dare turn this ship around or send out an SOS, more people might be killed. So tell me, what should I do, Detective?”

Hawk rubbed the back of his neck. Looking at Nikki he nodded. “I gotta go find that Chinese fella, Nikki.”

“His name is Lei Johnson. He's half-Chinese and half-American,” Brody told Hawk and then disclosed the man's cabin number. “Listen to me, you can't go playing John Wayne, Detective. I'm acting captain of this ship now. You have no proof that Mr. Johnson is the person who killed Captain Mayfield.”

“I'm only going to question the man,” Hawk promised Brody. “In the meantime, you try to keep this bucket of bolts afloat.”

“Detective,” Brody said, “we have a severe storm chasing our tail, and we're not going to be able to outrun it. When the storm catches up to us, we're going to hit swells that will make the bravest man on earth wet his pants and—”

“Wait,” Nikki said, “if the killer wants you to keep this ship on course, he must be aware of the danger, which means whatever cargo he has must be really important.”

“Remember, the killer didn't work alone,” Hawk told Nikki.

Nikki nodded. “Hawk, the briefcase Lidia and I saw this Mr. Johnson carrying when he walked out of the bathroom? That must be the cargo.”

Brody stood up from the desk. “I'm going back to the bridge. The storm will be on us within the next couple of hours. After that, this ship is going to be fighting for its life. I'll do what I can to make sure we come out of this alive.”

Hawk waited until Brody left the medical bay before speaking. “Dr. Rowen, you didn't like Mayfield, did you?”

“I despised the man,” Dr. Rowen confessed, “but he's my half-brother, so what can I do? After I almost lost my medical license, he hired me on as ship doctor.”

“How did you almost lose your medical license?” Nikki asked.

Dr. Rowen walked to the desk, pulled out the brandy, and took another swig. “I went into surgery drunker than a skunk, my dear lady.”

“Come on,” Hawk told Nikki, disgusted with Dr. Rowen.