Waves of Murder (32 page)

“When it comes to murderers of innocent women for their jewellery, I am,” she answered.

Mel could only agree, “Yeah, he was an evil murdering bastard,” he said.

The Afrique Queen

J
on could not believe his eyes watching the CNN news in his stateroom, it announced the execution of himself by the Russians. The British Foreign Office had lodged a complaint and the Russian Ambassador had been called to be seen by the Home Secretary to explain his countries’ policy of a no trial execution of a British subject. It came to nothing and was just put on file to be brought up at the next International Conference ..... end of. A formal notice would be sent to Moscow to be filed somewhere, but no one would ever find it again either in Moscow or London.

Jon was definitely now, Kieron Robert Pearce, an Irish citizen, a free man of the world, or was he? He was still in debt to Satan, who had undoubtedly arranged the fiendish episode in Russia, also his finger prints and DNA were Jon Weston’s and there was very little he could do about it but hope that the reason to check them would never arise.

Just two days cruising left, and Keiron had to deal with two women and get their diamonds, but hang on a minute, he might go to Brighton and strike Hannah there, and that would leave only Rosa to worry about. “Rosa, it’s Keiron, what’s happening?” he asked on the phone.

“Nothing, I was waiting for you to call, you bad boy, I’m lonely and need some company, come to my stateroom for coffee and doughnuts on the balcony, and we’ll talk about today,” she said.

“Okay, I’ll be ten minutes,” he said. It was time to concentrate on the job in hand, he knocked on Rosa’s door.

“C’m in,” she said as she opened it, “good to see you, handsome, sit down.”

As she poured the coffee, he looked around and noticed a jewel case partially open with part of the necklace hanging out of the lower drawer. The black mist descended, but it was too early in the day, it would have to be much later because of cabin cleaners, plus he didn’t want to sit with her dead body for the rest of the day, until about 3am the next morning. As previously, he would wine and dine his victim until the early hours, and when the time was right he would kill her, and her jewellery would be his. They spent the day together. After an early lunch they laid on the sundeck, but it was too hot, 90+ even in the shade. They kept the bar staff busy, but with soft drinks, Keiron wanted to keep his head clear for later, he said the same to Rosa with a wink, and Rosa agreed but she had a different reason!

It was a formal night, a ‘black and white ball’ with a special menu in all three restaurants, and a grand dance in the magnificent central ballroom. At 6.30pm Keiron knocked on Rosa’s door which opened almost immediately, “Wow!” she said, “you look fabulous.”

He wore a white silk DJ with a black silk shirt and bow tie, with black mohair and silk trousers. “And you look out of this world!” he enthused. She was in a black dress, knee length, with a white squared pattern, low cut to reveal her beautiful cleavage, and of course, the necklace to which Keiron’s eyes were magnetically drawn, “You, my darling girl, look absolutely beautiful and I will be so proud to escort you tonight,” he blarnied.

“Thank you, kind sir,” she said. He also ogled the watch, bracelet and rings. It wasn’t the black mist that descended, but he was filled with a strange warmth and almost started to salivate like some sort of beast of prey. He managed to control himself and took her hand as they started to walk to the bar for pre-dinner drinks. “Good lord,” she said, “your hand is very hot!”

“I’m sorry, I’ve been hot all day, being with you,” he said, they laughed.

But she felt a little uncomfortable and took his arm instead, the warmth came through his sleeve, but he wasn’t sweating, ‘weird’ she thought, but let it slide. They walked in to the ‘Casablanca’ restaurant and turned many heads, they were shown to a table on the central, raised part of the venue. “Keiron,” Rosa said, “let’s have a bottle of champagne, I am in the mood,” she added.

“You bet,” he agreed and gestured to the wine waitress, “a bottle of Chrystal, please,” he said. It was soon brought in a bucket of ice on a stand and served with a flurry and a bang from the cork. “Here’s to you my darlin’,” Keiron said.

“And here’s to us having a ‘special’ night,” she said, with a wink.

Keiron picked up his champagne flute and saw the word ‘soon’ etched in the mist on the glass. Caviar to start was ordered, beluga of course, followed by lobster in champagne sauce. They ordered another bottle of champagne, Keiron made sure that Rosa’s glass was brimmed and his was only a third full. “It’s time to go dancing,” Rosa said, as they finished their coffee and cognac. Just a little unsteadily Rosa took Keiron’s arm which she said had ‘cooled down’.

“Good,” he said, “it must have been the cold champagne!” The six piece western style band were very good, and Rosa and Keiron went straight on to the floor and danced to ‘Love me do’ by the Beatles. They danced to three or four Beatle hits, then fell in to a booth and ordered large cognacs, and sat looking at each other in a lecherous way, but Keiron’s sights were on the gems, not Rosa, although he managed to catch her sexy gaze. “He looked at his watch, it was 1.15am, the time was getting close.

“Let’s go, my lovely Irish boy, I am feeling very naughty,” Rosa said.

“Okay,” Keiron said, “so am I.” But he meant it in a more sinister way.

“Another brandy?” Rosa said as they entered her stateroom.

“Yes, why not, it’ll finish the evening off nicely,” he said.

“Oh no, I’ve got something else in mind to finish the evening off!” she giggled. She poured two large Remy Martin cognacs into balloon glasses and they sat on the balcony listening to the waves lapping against the side of the ship.

Sipping their drinks, looking at the gems that Rosa was wearing, he began once again to feel the inner warmth and the black mist started to descend. He jumped to his feet and took her by the throat and at the same time dragging her back into the room, all the time pressing with enormous satanic strength on her windpipe which was soon crushed. She stopped breathing and her eyes bulged, she was dead and he laid her on the bed and started to strip her of her diamonds, he also removed her dress etc. He’d taken the precaution of washing the glass, he hadn’t actually touched anything, the door, anything on the balcony or in the bathroom. Rosa had handled the bottle, there were none of his prints on anything. He waited until 3am before he lifted her off of the bed, carried her, fireman style, and let her body drop into the sea. A man on a lower deck turned to go back into his stateroom just as she fell past his balcony, he heard the splash but thought nothing of it through his alcohol-filled haze. Once again, Jon wiped the ‘Do not disturb’ sign as he hung it on the outside of the door and went back to his stateroom. He thought, she would be missing for one day, even if a room attendant went in all they would do is clean after finding no one there, and remove the sign. Rosa would not be seriously missed until disembarking time, and by then he would be gone and away with her jewellery. He patted his pocket containing the diamonds and once again the inner warmth started to engulf him, but he went straight into a cool shower. But even with very cool water, the mirror began to steam up and the words ‘U O ME MORE, S’ appeared, still wet he poured himself a very large brandy and sat on the bed. He woke at 6.30 and went into the bathroom, the mirror was clear, he ran the hot tap so that steam would cover the mirror, but nothing appeared. He thought it could have been the alcohol or the fact that he could have dreamed it.

Tunis

B
ack at the home port, Keiron found Hannah in the reception area, “Hi,” she said, “not really a holiday romance was it! You must come over to England some time and come and see me in Brighton,” she suggested, as she gave him her card.

He looked at it, and said, “Hollingbury, that sounds nice, and very rural.”

“It’s an industrial estate,” she said, laughing, “but please come over soon, I’ve enjoyed our ‘dalliance’ even though it was only for a few days,” she kissed his cheek and whispered, “soon!”.

Keiron thought, yes I’ve an idea it will be! He checked back into his hotel for another two weeks and was able to do a tourist deal for cash in advance with a double de luxe sea-facing room. He laid on his king size bed and watched European news, an item about Jon Weston’s death in Russia, and that the government had made a protest to the Russians. Keiron thought ‘well, that’s the end of me’, he laughed and went over to his mini bar and poured himself a large scotch and added lots of ice, ‘here’s to Keiron Pearce’ and raised his glass.

Brighton

K
eiron landed at Gatwick airport at 5pm, at the north terminal, he went through passport control without any problems even though he was carrying a huge amount of cash. If he’d been stopped he’d have shown his newly printed business card in his new name, but the occasion had not arisen. His haul of diamonds and the bulk of his cash was in a safety deposit box in the Bank of Tunisia. He walked out of the terminal straight into a taxi, “Brighton, please,” he said to the Asian driver who said ‘it’a a fixed fare of £60, sa’, “okay, fine let’s go, and to the best hotel on the seafront, I think it’s the ‘Grand’.”

They arrived at the hotel about an hour later, having hit road works, and rush hour traffic, “Here we are, sa,” the driver said, as he jumped out of the cab to get Keiron’s luggage from the boot. A doorman took the bags to reception. Keiron gave the cabbie £70, “Thank you, sa,” he said as he got back into the cab.

“I’d like a double facing the sea, if possible, I’m sorry I don’t have a reservation,” he said.

“That all right, sir, I think we can accomodate you,” Rebecca said, “I’ve a double on the second floor, but it won’t be ready until 7 o’clock, perhaps you woud like a drink, complimentary of course, in the bar,” and gave him a blue card with ‘bar token’ written on it.

“Thank you,” he said, and walked into the bar which was just a few yards away. He paid for three days in advance, in cash, always cash, credit cards were too traceable. The Grand’s dollar rate wasn’t good, but he had no choice having left his euros in Tunis. A porter approached him and told him that his room was now ready and apologised for the delay. In the room, he walked over to the balcony doors and opened them and looked out to sea. This will be the last one, he thought, Hannah’s diamonds would set him up, his plan was to go back to car dealing, but not in London, his face was too well known. Unless of course, he had a bit of facial surgery, he pondered, but first things first.

“Hiya Hannah, it’s Kieron,” he said on the phone, “how are you?”

“Hi darling, this is an unexpected call, where are you?”

“At the Grand Hotel, in Brighton,” he replied.

“WHAT? I don’t believe it, when did you get here?” she asked.

“Last night,” he answered.

“When can we get together?” she almost begged.

“How about tonight, grab a cab and we can have dinner here,” he suggested, “let’s say about 7.30, okay?”

“That’ll be very nice,” she said, excitedly.

He hoped she would wear her jewellery, but tonight would be too soon, it would be the build up to the final act. He sat in the bar at 7.30pm as arranged, and waited ten minutes before Hannah arrived, “Hello gorgeous,” she said, and kissed his cheek, “how fabulous to see you so soon, don’t tell me I’m the only reason you’re here,” she enquired.

“No, I’m to buy a Bentley for a Tunisian business man,” he lied.

“You come all this way to buy one car?” she questioned.

“Yes, it’s quite special, £150,000 worth,” he lied again.

“Wow!” she said, “you don’t mess with Renaults do you,” she laughed.

“No, I’m sorry,” he said, “only cars that make top dollar, but my expenses are high as you can imagine,” he said.

Hannah changed the subject by asking, “Has your room got a double or kingsize bed?” she giggled.

“Kingsize,” he replied with a huge smile. He ordered a bottle of Dom Perignon at a table in the conservatory. They watched the seafront traffic and sipped their nectar just looking at each other as well. “Dinner?” Keiron suddenly said, “Shall we go and eat?”

“But first finish the bottle!” Hannah said.

Unless you go to Claridges, the Savoy Grill or the Ritz, hotel food, even 5*, around the country, is the same, it always tastes as if it was cooked yesterday. This was the opinion of Hannah and Keiron as they sipped their cognacs in the bar conservatory. At 11.30pm they took the lift to his room, the door had only just closed and they were undressing each other and in passionate embraces. Their love-making exceeded all boundaries and they collapsed on to both sides of the kingsize bed, completely spent. They started laughing as Keiron jumped off the bed and said, “Another nightcap, I think,” and poured two large brandies. Hannah laying naked on the bed, wearing her necklace, made him start to heat up from the inside, a sip of his drink and he went for a shower, but only tepid. Out of the shower he turned the water to hot, after a few seconds the word ‘soon’ appeared, but only for a short while, then disappeared. He returned to the bedroom thinking, I could do it now, but he would miss out on the bracelet and watch, only getting the necklace. He wanted the whole lot!

“Shall I stay tonight?”

“Yes,” Keiron said, “I’ll be lonely if you don’t,” he blarnied.