Waves of Murder (23 page)

Paris

A
taxi took them to a family-owned hotel on Montparnasse, a lovely part of Paris. The Aviatic Hotel was small but very comfortable and the service excellent. It wasn’t until they checked into the hotel that Mel realised that Mary-Lou spoke perfect French. She had let Mel show the taxi driver the brochure with the hotel’s address. “Where did you learn to speak French like that?”

“My mother was from Quebec, my original christian name was Marie-Louise and my first language was French, until we came to America when I was 4 years old.”

Mel sat down on the bed looking puzzled, he wished he hadn’t asked, and just said, “Oh, I see.”

“Tomorrow,” Mary-Lou said, “it’s the Eiffel Tower, the Champs Elysee, the Elysee Palace and Notre Dame.”

“Whoa,” Mel said, “that’s about three days rolled in to one, I’ll need an extra pair of feet!”

“And the next day, a cruise down the Seine in one of those glass topped boats,” she said.

“And the day after that, you bury me!” Mel said.

“Don’t talk like that,” she said, “at least give me a few months of married life!” They laughed.

“Oh, you’ve got me for a lot longer than that,” he said, pulling her down on to the bed.

“Has Paris had some sort of an effect on you?” she asked.

“No, I feel like this anywhere when I’m with you,” Mel said. IT happened.

VENICE

Mary-Lou had booked the Orient Express from Paris to Venice, what a fabulous train journey, gourmet food, wonderful silver service and beautiful scenery. Through the Alps to Italy then across to Venice, neither of them had been there before. They arrived at midday, on what was one of the hottest days of the year, 105f. Their taxi took them to the Adelphi Grand Hotel, “It’s beautiful,” Mary-Lou said.

“Wow,” Mel said, as he gazed at the 150 year old facade. As their cab stopped at the front, a porter stepped forward, pushing a luggage trolley, to take their bags into reception. They were already booked ‘on-line’ by Mary-Lou before they left home, in fact she had booked everything ‘on-line’. “I don’t know how you do it,” Mel said when she showed him all the tickets and paper-work for the entire trip.

“Easy,” she replied, “I’ll show you how, one day!”

“Buongiorno,” the receptionist said, “Signore and Signora Novak, yes?”

“How did he know that?” Mel asked.

“We’re the only yanks arriving with Orient Express labels on their luggage,” she answered, “are you really a detective?” She laughed.

“I thought I was,” he said, “until now!”

Rome (Cesaro Roma)

J
ust a few hours and the cruise would come to an end, Jon had packed and was ready to go ashore, and as soon as possible. He would be the first at the gangway after settling his bill. “That’s £1,800,” the cashier said, “or $2,380,” she added.

“Fine,” he said, “don’t need a receipt,” and gave her $2,500, “keep the change,” he said over his shoulder as he grabbed his bags and put them on a porter’s trolley. At the top of the gangway his blood went cold when he saw three leather-jacketed big men, standing by a black Mercedes. He also saw a taxi a few yards in front of their car. He walked slowly down the gangway wishing he had mingled with a group, but it was too late, he ran to the cab, dived in and told the driver, “Avanti! avanti!.” The driver was good, and was away from the quayside before the Russians had realised, they jumped into their Merc and were soon chasing the taxi, but Jon had chosen the right cabbie for the job! Up side streets, down side streets, even through alley ways just wide enough for the Fiat cab, soon he was at his apartment, he gave the cab driver $100, who wanted to kiss him!

Gretta wasn’t at home, good he thought, and then saw a note pinned to the TV screen. It read ‘Hello Jonathan Weston’, that’s all. He grabbed one case and went down to the street, it took a while to get a taxi, but he was soon on his way back to the port. Walking around the quayside he was able, after about half an hour, to find a fishing boat. “Could you take me to Capri?” he asked.

“Are you crazy?” the young fisherman said.

“No, but I will pay you well,” Jon said.

“How much?” the boy asked.

“ $1,000.”

“Let me see it,” Jon was asked.

“When we get half way there,” he said.

The lad looked at Jon’s clothes, his watch and his leather case, and said,” Okay.”

150 miles straight down the Tyrrhenian Sea, staying fairly close to the Italian coast, it would take between 2 and 3 days, depending on tides and weather. How did Gretta know his true identity, he wondered. But she was obviously scared and moved out with all her belongings, but at least there were no police waiting for him. He also wondered if she took the car, shame he thought, it was a nice one, not to worry it’s only a lump of metal! One item of jewellery in his pocket will pay for another one.

They lived on freshly caught fish during their journey and drank a strong red wine from a huge bulbous container, but not too much! They both needed their wits about them. Capri came into view at the end of the third day, Jon had given Guido $500 with the promise of the rest when they landed. Under cover of nightfall the boat heaved to at the very end of the long quay leading to the outskirts of the main town. It was quite a long walk, about a kilometre, and his case was getting heavier, he was dirty and reeked of fish, but he was alive and had all his money and jewellery. Guido became a friend and was pleased to have earned more in six days than in a normal month. It was 6pm and the sun was going down rapidly and he needed to find a hotel. Up a back street hill he suddenly found himself on the main drag, and opposite was a nice looking 4* hotel. He crossed the narrow, but dual, carriageway road at a crossing that drivers ignored! Walking up to the reception desk, a couple passed and held their noses when they had gone by. “I’d like a double room for a week, please,” he said as he put his passport and a wad of cash on the surface.

“Si, signore,” the young girl said, “but our only double is being cleaned at the moment, it will be about 30 minutes,” she said, trying to avert her nose.

“That’s fine, I’ll do the business then have a drink, oh and by the way, when you next see me I will look and smell a lot better!” he said, smiling.

“Si, signore,” she said, trying to smile. He ordered a large brandy to be served in the foyer, he didn’t want to offend any bar users with his fishy odour!

8pm saw a smart shiny and sweet smelling Jon walk into the ground floor bar ‘Americano’, in fact he turned one or two female heads as he took a seat at the end of the bar. Yes, he thought, I can chill out here quite nicely for at least a week, I can afford it, might even have a bit of female fun, who knows! The restaurant was nice but the food not quite what he was used to, never mind, he felt relaxed and safe here, he was hundreds of miles from his pursuers and therefore his enemies, who would see him destroyed in the most horrendous ways.

Rome

T
he honeymooners had arrived from Venice having done the whole of the tourist journies including the ‘Bridge of Sighs’ and the Grand Canal tour in a gondola, which they thought was enormously expensive, it was obviously a price for American tourists, but “You only do it once,” Mel said.

“If he starts singing ‘O sole mio’ I’ll push him overboard!” Mary-Lou said. They laughed.

The journey across Italy by train had been comfortable and the scenery amazing, through the mountains. The train went between two of the ‘Seven Hills’ and passed close to the Colliseum, “Wow, that is something,” Mary-Lou said, “how old is it?” she asked Mel.

“Oh, about 3,000 years old,” Mel answered.

“Really?” she said, “why is it in ruins?” she asked again.

“Mainly earthquakes over the centuries,” he replied with a smug look on his face.

“Well, they’ve had enough time to repair it!” she laughed.

The search for Liz Fenner had reached fever pitch, but after 4 days it was concluded that she had gone overboard. Her belongings were taken to the police station.

They were booked in at the ‘Fantasia’ 5* hotel, just off St Marks Square. It seemed out of place in the area, all stainless steel and tinted glass, but it had everything for the tourist, and some. Their suite was sumptuous, gold bathroom fittings and a huge balcony that cornered on St Peters Square, fabulous, they thought. Mel stood on the balcony and watched two men do the ‘map’ routine on an unsuspecting tourist. He called down to the tourist, “Look out!” As he spun round the thief dropped his wallet and ran off. The Roma trio disappeared very quickly, they’d be somewhere else in a few minutes. The tourist looked up and shouted, “Danke!” German, Mel thought, and wished he hadn’t bothered.

Sitting in the space-age bar, Mel casually picked up a newspaper, he read the headlines, with a picture of an attractive woman. He could only make out ‘American Tourist’, he showed it to Mary-Lou, “Hell,” she said, “that’s Elizabeth Fenner, I was on her divorce case a few years ago,” she said, and jumped up to go over to the bar, “What do these headlines say?” she asked.

The barman looked and said, “AMERICAN TOURIST missing from cruise liner, believed to have drowned overboard.”

When Mel heard this, his blood ran cold and hot at the same time, the murdering bastard’s here in Rome, or was, but there was nothing he could do, no jursdiction, and anyway he was on a very expensive holiday and didn’t have a hope in hell of actually catching Jon Weston. “Honey?” Mary-Lou said, “what’s wrong?”

“Oh, I just hate hearing about US citizens dying like that, it sounds dirty.”

“She was a lovely woman,” Mary-Lou said, “full of life and very wealthy after her divorce, about 12 million dollars, plus that big house on the top of Summer Hill, it’s beautiful,” she enthused. Mel’s hands were tied, but he thought that he would visit the local police and tell them what he knew about Jonathan Weston. They probably didn’t even know that he was in Italy, or that he was a prime suspect.

“Oh, honey,” Mary-Lou said, “we’re on honeymoon, please don’t be there too long.”

“I won’t hon, you can go shopping, but be careful of young dark girls, and men in leather jackets and jeans, with maps!”

Mel took a taxi to police headquarters, and with him a copy of the newspaper plus his identification and badge. He waited in a very ornate and large outer office for about 10 minutes, then he was ushered into the police Commissario’s office, “ Buongiorno,” he said.

“Lieutenant Novak.”

“Nice to meet you,” he said. Mel showed his ID and badge. “Why are the New York state police interested in this case?” the chief asked.

“I used to be with the New York State police department, and about 15 months ago I was assigned to a case where an American woman disappeared from a ship bound for New York. About 4 months later her body, minus certain parts, was washed up on a beach near New York City. Her name was Helen Smithson, from Oklahoma, but we got very lucky, we found DNA samples from semen in her vagina, it belonged to Jonathan Weston, from London, England.”

“That doesn’t prove that he killed her,” he said.

“No,” Mel agreed, then told him adbout her jewellery being sold in New York a day after the ship had docked. “He was with a Lorna Harper, who was sent to trial for taking her part in the crimes,” Mel told the chief.

“I see, so you want us to make all the efforts to find this man in Italy.”

“Yes,” said Mel, “there’s another woman gone missing from an Italian cruise boat only yesterday. He is definitely in your country. It has been highlighted on your TV news with his picture, and description.”

“Lieutenant Novak,” the chief said, “ our tourist industry is very important to us so we will search high and wide for this evil man. We will extend the TV coverage and instruct areas where he has been seen to dig deeper and turn over even the smallest stone.”

“Thank you, sir, I will keep in touch although I am here on holiday with my wife,” Mel said.

“You go and enjoy our beautiful country,” the chief said, “and thank you for coming to see me,” he added.

Mel got back to the hotel and called their room, there was no answer. As he put the phone down Mary-Lou struggled through the main door helped by the doorman. “Is there anything left in Rome? Do we have any money left?” he asked.

“Yes and no!” she laughed, “how did you get on with the poice chief?” she asked.

“Fine, he’s a nice guy, and he’s going to help as much as possible with the Liz Fenner case.”

“Good,” she said, “now, can we get on with our honeymoon please, there’s nothing you can do to help the poor lady now.”

“You’re right,” he said, “okay, let’s get this lot up to the room.” He walked over to the doorman and gave him $10, “Grazie signore!” the boy said.

Up in the room there were shirts, ties, socks, shoes, dresses, trousers etc., spread all over the room, “Have you forgotten luggage flight charges?” Mel asked.

“No,” Mary-Lou said, “there are a few things we are going to leave behind, like those trousers,” she said, pointing to his chinos.

“Hey, I like these pants with extra pockets!” he said.

She opened a package and produced another pair in cream, instead of the grey/brown colour of his present pair, “With extra pockets! Tah dah!” she laughed.