Waves of Murder

Waves Of Murder

J B Raphael

First published in the UK in January 2015 by MyVoice Publishing

Copyright: © J B Raphael

J B Raphael asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

Cover Design by James Welch

Published by:  MyVoice Publishing

www.myvoicepublishing.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-909359-48-2

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

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

With thanks to Lynn

for her continued hard work and support.

Thanks also to James Welch

for his technical expertise in the design of the cover.

Chapter one

T
he sun piercing through the gap in the curtains, woke Jonathan Weston, he blinked with sore eyes. The smell of bacon frying wafted into his bedsit from the next door room. The tenant had a cooked breakfast every morning. He had only seen his neighbour once or twice, he went to his office job well-dressed, dark suit, white shirt, shiny shoes and neat brief case. Jonathan guessed that he worked in a bank, oh well he thought, at least he had a job, I haven’t. What will today bring on the dole, very little money, only his sister Vicky to help, which she did gladly. A successful private doctor who adored her brother, gave him money, loaned him her car and generally looked after him. She would have him move into her four bedroom house in Belsize Park, but her husband Peter, also a doctor said ‘No, I would like to preserve our privacy.’ Jonathan had a good education, but when he left school he allowed his mind to be addled by foolishness, girls, fashion, cars, booze, you name it. Everything except drugs, he loathed the thought of them, his friends tried to introduce him to cannabis, but he declined, just watching them act like idiots under the influence.

“Hi ya Vicks,” he almost shouted, as he pressed the ‘Entry’ button at the side of the electric gates to her house, “it’s Jono,” he said.

“Hello darling,” came the reply as the gates started to swing open. He walked up the gravel driveway to the front door which opened with a flood of light from the large hall. She threw her arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly, “Come in, come in,” she said enthusiastically, “You will stay to dinner won’t you, it’ll only be 15 minutes, it’s home-made spag bol, your favourite!” she said with a huge smile. The dining room was beautifully furnished with only the best fabric and furniture, “Peter’s up in Manchester at a Medical Council conference, so it’s just the two of us, what’s your news?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he replied, “I’ve had a couple of job interviews, but I dont’t hold out much hope. It’s bloody hard out there,” he added, “ no job, no money, no hope,” he lamented.

Vicky took his hand and said,”Money isn’t a problem, how much do you need?” she asked.

“About a grand,” he said.

“Okay,” and reached for her handbag and produced her cheque book, “Why do you need it?” she questioned.

“I need clothes, my wardrobe is a joke,” he answered and lifted his foot to reveal a hole in the sole of his shoe.

“Oh, darling,” she said, “look, I’ll make this out for £1500, there’s bound to be other bits and pieces you’ll need.”

“Good morning, sir,” the friendly, smiling face said, “how can I help you?”

“I’m in need of a new wardrobe,” Jon replied, “suit, shirts, ties, shoes and underwear.” After an hour and a half he left with his purchases and £600 lighter, but the clothes were good, from a good up-market men’s store. Back at his flat, he un-packed a suit, sports jacket, three shirts, two pairs of slacks and a pair of good leather shoes etc. A nice shave and then a hair-cut, he thought. After visiting a unisex hairdressers in Earls Court, he caught sight of himself in a store window, I look good, bloody good! he thought. He picked up a free newspaper from a stand outside the Tube station, at the bottom of the front page was an advert ‘Cruise to the sun’ it shouted, ‘Med, 12 nights all inclusive £699’. Mmm he thought, I quite fancy that, sun, sea and a bit of luxurious living, if only for 12 days. “It’s holiday time,” he shouted at the sky.

A middle-aged woman passer-by said, “Is it? can I come?”

Jon walked on thinking I’ll need some more money, but I’ll leave it a week or two. He walked into a local travel agent with the paper advert, “I’d like to book this trip please,” he said to the most beautiful blue eyes he had ever seen.

“Would you like to sit down?” she said, pointing to a desk, purposely bending to display her rear as she pulled in a chair. “I’m afraid that offer has finished, fully booked, well it would be at that price wouldn’t it?”

“Well, what’s on offer now then?” he asked, looking at her cleavage which was well shown.

“Well, what do you fancy?” she asked, looking down at her chest, smiling.

“Oh, I still want to cruise, preferably the Med sunshine,” he answered.

“Well, that offer was for an inside cabin on the Arcadia, you can have an outside stateroom with balcony for £1600 all inclusive, with £100 on board spend,” she explained, looking into his eyes, smiling and fingering the top button on her blouse.

“Would you like to go out for a drink tonight?” Jon heard himself saying, “and we can seal the deal then.”

“I’m not allowed to socialise with clients, but I won’t tell anyone if you don’t, and after all it would be a business meeting, perhaps I could claim overtime?” she said smiling, and accepting his invitation.

They met, as arranged, at the local wine bar at six, in the mean-time Jon had been to his sister for another £1000 and to borrow her car. She was more than happy to do this, and poo poo’d Jon when he swore that he would repay her as soon as possible. Lorna, the travel agent, looked terrific, and they chatted freely about their lives. She was 24 and single, had been in the travel business since leaving school. They decided to eat at the wine bar, the menu looked very good. Two hours later Jon settled the bill for a very good meal.

Outside, the white Audi Coupe looked amazing, and when Lorna saw it she said, “Wow, is that yours?”

“No,” Jon said, “company car,” he lied, “I sell them, they’re great cars, this is 60 grands worth,” he added as he opened the door for her.

A gentleman, she thought, she liked that. They drove out into the countryside and Jon stopped the car in a lay-by on a B road, “Oh I see,” Lorna said, “it’s passion time is it?”

“No,” Jon started to speak, but her mouth was on his before he could say any more. Although a coupe, with the seats pushed forward there was a lot of room in the back. Their lovemaking was outrageous, and passing motorists only saw the car moving to a certain rhythm, with the windows opaque with hot air! They both sagged back into the luxuriant leather seats, gasping and laughing at the steamed up windows. “Can I take it that the stateroom on the cruise is available as a free upgrade?” Jon asked.

“Whoa tiger, you’ll have to hit the spot more often!” she replied.

He laughed loudly, there was a knock on the window which interrupted their conversation. Jon leant across Lorna and wiped the window with his hand to see a policeman’s face, he lowered the window. As they were both fully dressed there was no problem, “Are you all right miss?” the officer asked.

“Yes, thank you,” she answered, “we were just discussing holidays.”

“Is this your car, sir?” he asked.

“No officer,” Jon said, “it’s a company car,” he lied.

“I see, sir,” said the policeman, “ well, good night, drive safely,” he said. As no offence had been committed, the officer left it there. He didn’t fancy a load of paperwork towards the end of his shift.

Jon dropped Lorna off at a small block of flats just outside the town centre, they made a date for Saturday night.

Saturday night arrived, and Jon picked Lorna up at the block exactly on time, 7 o’clock. He leaned across to open the door and revealed a huge bunch of flowers on the seat, “Oh,” she said, “you really are trying for that upgrade aren’t you?” and handed him an envelope, “well, you’ve got it,” she said, taking a sniff of the flowers.

Jon opened the package to find tickets for the cruise, stateroom etc., all for the lower bargain price. “How did you manage to swing this?” Jon asked.

“Let’s say the guy at head office owed me a small favour,” she replied.

“I see,” he said with a knowing smile.

“I’d come with you if I could, but it’s difficult to find a child carer for two weeks, that won’t eat your purse,” she said seriously.

Jon started the car and they were soon parking outside ‘Maison Ricard’, a very highly thought of French restaurant at the better end of the High Street. Over a very good, but expensive dinner, Jon thought about Lorna’s suggestion, and said that as she had saved him a lot of money, he would gladly pay for a child minder if she would like to accompany him. Her smile was enormous, but at the same time, beautiful, “Well, that’s it then, we’re going on a cruising holiday !” Jon said. Dessert was sex, sex and more sex, once again in the back seat of the car, but no interruption from the Police. This time Jon had parked well off the main road, in some trees. At 2am they left their little love place and Jon drove Lorna home, they kissed outside her bijou block and Jon asked her to call him with her answer.

Jon’s mobile rang, the voice said, “I’d like to accept your offer, I’d love to come with you,” Lorna said.

“Good heavens! I only asked you an hour ago!” he replied.

“Well, there’s no sense in hanging about,” she responded, “I’ll make all the arrangements.”

Jon’s mobile rang, “Darling, can I have my car back, ple-e-ez?” Vicky begged.

“Sorry Vicks, yes, I’m coming round tonight, ‘bout 7 ish okay?”

“Bless you,” she said, “see you then. I’ve got to go out, so you’ll have to feed yourself, there’s plenty in the fridge,” she added, “if you like you can take our Golf runabout.”

Jon arrived on time, pressing the gate electric remote at 7pm exactly. Light flooded from the main door as Vicky opened it. She looked gorgeous, obviously not visiting a patient, “Going somewhere special?” Jon asked, as he handed her the car keys.

“Yes, I’m having an affair, didn’t you know? That bastard Peter’s been having one for two years, what’s good for the goose etc etc!” she said, as she donned her coat. “The Golf’s round the back, you know where the key is, oh, don’t forget to set the alarm when you leave, you know how don’t you?” she added.

“Yes, yes,” Jon said, “enjoy yourself.” He immediately called Lorna and told her to grab a cab and gave her the address. She arrived at 8 o’clock looking ‘wow’ as he said, “I’ll pay the cab.”

“Done it,” she said.

Jon gave her a £20 note, “That should cover it,” he said.

“This is one super house,” Lorna said, “is this where you live?”

“Yes,” he lied, “it belongs to my sister, big time private doctor, but I do have a tiny flat down the road in Chalk Farm,” he said, adding some truth to his story. He poured some wine in the kitchen that looked as if it had never been used. “Now, about our little holiday?” he asked.

“Well,” she said, “how’s August for two weeks, five star, Med and North Africa, outside stateroom. Oh, have you got a tuxedo? there are four formal nights, very posh!” she said.

“No, but I’ll get one. M & S have some nice ones, and all the accessories,” he said.

When Jon came out of the fitting room, he looked fantastic in his DJ. Over 6 ft and slim, the suit was perfection, “You look absolutely terrific,” Lorna said, “I’ll take a dozen!” she laughed, “ as long as you’re inside them!” she laughed again.

They drove down to Southampton in Vicky’s Golf, with free valet parking all they had to do was take their luggage into the terminal at gate 10, to join the cruise boat ‘Ajaxia’. An enormous ship, eighty-five thousand tons of pure white majesty. After the embarkation controls they were told their luggage would be taken to their stateroom on deck B, B220. Jon opened the door with the key card, ‘wow’ they said in unison, it was really de-luxe, Lorna ran in and jumped on to the king-size bed, Jon followed just as a porter knocked on the door with their bags. Jon gave him a £5 note, he said, “Thank you sir,” and disappeared.