Waves of Murder (6 page)

“Jonathan Weston?” the suited American voice asked, “I’m Lieutenant Novak of the NYPD, can I ask you one or two questions?”

“Yes, certainly, but what about?” Jon replied.

“Helen Smithson.”

“What about her? I only knew her as Helen,” he said.

“She’s disappeared, presumed dead and her body thrown overboard. That makes it homocide,” he explained.

“Bloody hell,” Jon exclaimed, “I didn’t really know her, we had a drink and a dance in the nightclub and sat at the roulette wheel for a while, that’s all I know about her. A woman like her, gregarious and friendly, could take up with a number of companions on a ship this size,” he offered.

“Yeah I suppose so,” the cop agreed, “Okay, we may have to talk again.” As Novak walked away, he said to his partner, “That’s our bastard, but how the fuck do we prove it?” he whispered.

Jon felt better as Novak left the ship, not realising that he was under suspicion. But the ‘Queen of the Atlantic’ was sailing the next day, so he was almost in the clear, or so he thought. His joyous thoughts were thwarted, when he heard over the ship’s announcer, “Will Jonathan Weston come to the reception desk, please.” He took his time getting there, fearing the worst. At the desk was Lt Novak with a uniformed cop, “Jonathan Weston, I’m arresting you on suspicion of the homocide of Helen Smithson, anything you say can be used in court when it comes to trial, you are not obliged to say anything.”

“WHAT?” Jon shouted, “ARE YOU CRAZY?” he asked.

“If you’d like to come with us down town we’ll get this sorted one way or the other.”

“Can I call my partner?” he asked.

“No,” said Novak, “the receptionist will tell her that you are at the 30th Precinct, Manhattan South,” he added. The uniformed cop stepped forward and handcuffed Jon. He was led off the ship to a blue and white squad car, fellow passengers looked on in amazement.

Novak and a Captain Colletti, questioned Jon for 4 hours, but he was good, kept to his story and didn’t fall for any of their interrogation tricks, such as “Did you think that she was rich because she had a suite?” “I didn’t know know she had a suite.”

At seven, Novak said, “Okay Jon, you’re free to go. I’ll get a squad car to take you back.”

“No thanks, I’ll get a cab,” he replied. Novak followed him to the front desk, which was surrounded by cops, drunks and hookers. He finally received his envelope containing his belt, cash, watch and wallet.

“That’s a lot of dough you’re carrying, Jon.”

“I won it in the casino on board, anyway you need it in this town, oh by the way, do I have to tip you?”

“No Jon, just think yourself lucky to be free,” answered Novak, and walked away. “He’s the one,” Novak said as he walked into the Captain’s office.

“No evidence,” said Colletti, “there are 1800 passengers on the ship, it would take for ever to check them all.”

“Yeah, but he was seen with her,” he said.

“He was seen more with his girlfriend,” Colletti said, “let’s have a word with her on the ship in the morning, it doesn’t sail ‘til 4 o’clock in the afternoon, she may say something interesting, okay?” the Captain suggested.

At 10 o’clock in the morning the phone rang in Jon and Lorna’s cabin, “I’m sorry to bother you Miss Harper, but there is a policeman at reception who would like a word with you.”

“Okay,” Lorna said, “I’ll be there in 15 minutes.”

She told Jon, who immediately started to panic, mentally, “Okay,” he said, after calming down and starting to think properly, “just answer their questions very briefly, yes, no, I don’t know, those sort of answers, believe me,” he said, “they are clutching at straws, they know nothing, there’s no evidence, have you got that?”

“Yes,” she replied, and went down to the main desk area.

Standing there, was Novak alone, no cop, just him. He thanked her for her time, she found him very personable, he ushered her into a small ‘business man’s office’ just close to the desk. He closed the door and showed her his ID badge, “I’m Lieutenant Novak of the NYPD, I just need you to confirm the movements of Jonathan Weston, your partner I believe.”

“Okay,” she said, trying not to display her nerves. Novak asked many questions about Jon and his movements since leaving England, but she was true to Jon’s advice and answered the questions exactly as he had suggested. After about an hour, Novak thanked her for her time, opened the door for her and said goodbye, adding,” I hope you have enjoyed New York City.”

She returned to their stateroom, and her answers to his questions made him feel better. “Let’s go to the coffee shop,” Jon suggested, as he hugged her for a long time. She started crying as he shushed her to calm her down. She washed, and made up her face and once again she was lovely Lorna again. In the coffee shop Jon attracted one or two glances from passengers that had seen him arrested, but he held his head high as if nothing had ever happened. They thought a little on-board shopping was in order, so arm in arm they strolled slowly along the shopping deck, browsing in the gift shops and the boutiques. Prices were high, guided by the American tourists wallets. Jon received just one or two more glances, but ignored them.

“Mr Weston, would you please contact the main desk. As soon as possible please.” the speakers asked. “Oh no, not again,” he said to Lorna. They walked quickly to the source of the message, they were given a letter, Jon opened it. It was from the First Officer, ‘Dear Mr Weston, Miss Harper and yourself are requested to leave the ship as you are now persona non grata. Please settle any accounts and go ashore no later than 3pm. You will be escorted to the gangway with your baggage.’ Jon was not aware that the NYPD had requested this course of action. As they had the on-going murder enquiry, the Captain had no choice but to comply as the missing person was a US citizen, and the ship was on US territory. At exactly 3pm Jon and Lorna were at the reception desk with their baggage, the jewellery was retrieved from the safety deposit box and they were ready to go. The ship’s Officers appeared, and a porter to carry their luggage, “Service to the very end,” Jon said to Lorna. Down on the quayside they felt dreadful, but they soon cheered up when Jon said, “Don’t worry Lorns, we’re about 20 grand richer!” At that moment a cab pulled up and unloaded some Americans and their baggage. Lots and lots of it, Jon walked over to the cabbie and said, “Can you take us to a hotel, perhaps near Times Square?”

“Sure,” the cabbie said, “thanks for the return fare,” and started to load their luggage, “okay, let’s go. My name’s Cliff, 27 years pushing a hack around the greatest city in the world,” he said, as he engaged the gear in the people-carrier type cab, “oh, by the way, it’s $30 fixed fare, okay?” he explained. They stopped at a large tourist hotel just off Times Square in West 45th Street, Jon gave cliff $50, “Gee, thanks!” the cabbie said as he unloaded their bags from the back, “you have a good stay, okay?” he said, getting into the cab.

They were met by a porter who loaded their baggage on to a trolley and steered them through to the reception area. “Hi, how can I help?” the Hispanic girl asked.

“We’d like a double room, not too high, for a couple of nights please.”

“Sure,” the girl said, “may I have your credit card, please?” she asked.

“No,” said Jon, “I’ll pay cash.”

“Sure, that’ll be fine, two nights, double room, that’ll be $600 please,” she responded. Jon peeled off six $100 bills from his bundle, and passed it across the marble counter. “Would you fill in these registration cards please.” They both filled them in, and passed them back to ‘Clamenta’, the name on her badge. As Jon had paid cash there was no need to check passports.

A porter took their bags up to the 10th floor, that was low in a 48 floor building! The room was fairly ‘tourist’ but comfortable, with a king size bed and a TV, air con: and a nice bathroom. Room 1009 should suit for the next two days, Jon now fixed his thinking to selling the diamonds. They were both hungry, Jon asked Clamenta to recommend a restaurant, “Yes,” she said, “if you go out of the other entrance into the next street, you’ll see a Chinese and an Italian, but be quick, they’re fully booked soon by theatre goers.”

“Thanks,” Jon said.

“You’re welcome,” she replied, “enjoy your evening.”

They managed to get a table for two at ‘Gianni’ Italian, it was packed with theatre people grabbing a meal before a show. At exactly 7.30pm the restaurant emptied, leaving just Jon and Lorna. The maitre’d looked at his watch and said, “Are you seeing a show, it’ll soon be curtain time?”

“Er, no, we only arrived late afternoon.”

“Oh, I see, you’re English!” he said.

“Yes, we’re here to shop and sight-see, er, perhaps you could help. I want to buy a diamond ring for my soon-to-become fiancee, where is the best place to go?” Jon enquired.

“Well,” the maitre’d said, “if I were you I’d go down to China Town and the Jewish quarter, lots of dealers there, and by the way, congratulations!” and added, “have a drink with the house, what would you like?” Jon thanked him and paid the bill, the brandies went down very well. Back to the hotel, and they decided on an early night.

No breakfast included, thay went for a walk past the Italian restaurant and soon found a deli serving a full breakfast, which they ordered with coffee and extra toast, “$28 was a bit steep,” Jon said, “but it was a hell of a breakfast.” He saw a yellow cab at the corner of Madison Avenue, and hailed it, he said to the driver, “We want to go to China Town, please.”

The driver looked strangely at him, he didn’t hear ‘please’ often, “Canal and Mott is the centre, okay?” he said.

“Yes, whatever you say,” Jon answered. The cab stopped at Canal and Mott, $16 on the meter, Jon gave him an extra $5, saying, “There was no seat belt message!”

“No,” the driver said, “They get on people’s nerves, especially Bruce Willis!” he said laughing, “and thanks, have a good day!” came out of the window, as he drove away. To the left, he saw shops and restaurants with Chinese signs and writing, to the right he saw Jewish signs, which way? he thought. “Lorna, let’s flip a coin, chink or jew?” Jon asked. The coin spun, left heads, right tails, Jon caught it and looked, “Tails,” he said, “so it’s the Jew’s.” They crossed the street, and walked down through the Jewish quarter, he saw a sign saying ‘Jewellery - Loans and Bought’. He pressed the security buzzer, and after a while was allowed in.

A bearded man wearing a skull cap, said, “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Jon replied, “I’m from England and I want to sell this body chain, it’s very valuable, could you tell me how much I can expect for it?” he asked.

The man, whose twin brother had the shop in Hatton Garden, placed his eye glass in his clip-on spectacles and studied the stones avidly. After a good ten minutes, he said, “You’re right, it is very valuable, how much do you want for it?”

“$100,000,” Jon replied.

“I see. I have to check on it, it will take about five minutes, take a seat,” said the dealer. After three or four minutes another bearded man entered the shop and put a code into a side door, which allowed him into the rear office. Jon could hear voices, but they weren’t speaking English, it sounded like German. The first man appeared and said, “I am going to share any purchase with my neighbour,” he said, pointing to the second man, “we’ll give you $80,000 for it, that’s our only offer, we don’t barter.”

Jon sat, thinking for about two minutes, then said, “Okay, will that be cash?”

“Yes,” the man said with a smile, “we only deal in cash.” He went back into the little office with the obligatory see-through glass. He returned with eight plastic Bank of America packs, each containing $10,000, but before he handed over the money he pushed a form through the glass divider, “Please fill in your name and address etc.” Jon gave a completely fictitious address in Bournemouth. They left the shop, but acting naturally, walked up the street arm in arm, not realising that they were on CCTV.

Lt Novak had spoken to the First Officer about Jonathan’s departure, who told him about the taxi picking them up at the gangway. CCTV had picked up the index no: of the cab and it was traced to Cliff, who remembered the nice Brits, and told Novak where he had dropped them off.

Clamenta looked at Novak’s gold NYPD badge, “I’m Lt Novak, NYPD, do you have a Jonathan Weston staying here?” he questioned.

She checked her computer, “Yes, room 1009,” she answered.

Novak nodded to his uniformed cop, they took the elevator to the 10th floor, Novak gave a knock of authority, “Police, open the door,” he almost shouted. The door was opened by a scantily dressed Lorna, Novak feasted his eyes, what a pair of tits, he thought! “I’m Lt Novak, NYPD,” he said, showing his ID, “I need to talk to Jonathan Weston,” he announced. Jon appeared from behind the door, also in a state of undress, “Get dressed Mr Weston, I need to question you down town, you’re not being arrested, but if you refuse you’ll be cuffed and taken anyway,” Novak barked.

Jon had thought this could happen and had put the bulk of the cash and the remaining diamonds in the hotel’s safe. “I’ve told you everything I know, “Jon said, coolly, as he dressed.

“We just want to get a few more details, and for you to make a written ststement,” Novak replied.

Jon was kept at Precinct 30 for six hours, but managed to keep to his story. Outside in the corridor Novak admitted to Colletti that there was, finally, no evidence to keep him in custody any longer. “Okay,” the Captain said, “let him go,” then added, “what about the girl, does she know anything?”