Waves of Murder (8 page)

The dinner went very well, lots of very good food from the caterers and, of course, lots of wine. The guests were merry, it was a fantastic success that went on until 2am. Vicky said to Oliver and Grant, “You will stay the night won’t you?” They agreed. Jon had noticed that Asa hadn’t taken her eyes off of Lorna all evening, what a waste, a fucking dike, he thought. “Can you call Asa a cab, Jon,” Vicky requested.

“I know what I’d like to call her!” he mumbled under his breath. “Of course,” he replied. “Ten minutes,” he shouted into the dining room for Asa to hear.

“Thankyou darling,” Vicky said.

“Taxi,” the voice announced over the gate intercom.

“Just coming,” Jon said to the driver. Asa thanked him and took her beautiful self through the door, Jon watched until she was safely in the cab. As he walked back to the main door, I could give that some! he said to himself.

“Thank you darling,” Vicky said, slightly slurring her speech, “David and I are going to bed,” she giggled. “the caterers are just leaving, and Oliver and Grant have gone up to the guest room,” she giggled again, “goodnight darlings,” she slurred.

Jon and Lorna sat in the sumptuous lounge with two large brandies, “What was that Swedish bird all about, she couldn’t take her eyes off you!”

Lorna laughed, and said, “Not to worry darling, she wasn’t my type, let’s go to bed and fuck.” The sexual crescendo in the house would have breeched the Noise Abatement Laws!

At 10.30am Jon awoke, Lorna’s side of the bed was empty. He put on his robe and went downstairs following the aroma of coffee. She was sitting with Sir David, who was admiring her cleavage through her very expensive Bloomingdales negligee. “Morning,” Jon said.

David stood up, “Good morning, Jon,” he said.

“Coffee, darling?” enquired Lorna.

“Oh yes, please,” Jon said.

The two gays also appeared, having smelled the coffee, “Morning!” they said in unison, “what a fabulous evening!” They wore matching red pyjamas with black and red robes. Funny, Jon thought, they weren’t carrying anything when they arrived, must keep them here for special evenings.

Vicky appeared, “Morning everybody,” she said, as she kissed David’s cheek,” oh Lorna darling, please go and put your tits away under a robe, David’s a randy sod, but he’s my randy sod!” she said, they all laughed, and surprisingly so did Lorna, as she went to get the obligatory garment.

Grant and Oliver finished their coffee, “We both have consultations this afternoon, so we had better get going,” Grant said.

“Two of the most eminent surgeons in the country, Oliver does brains and Grant does spines. They share a practice in Harley Street, rich people from all over the globe seek their services, and at £25,000 a procedure, at least, they do very well, very well indeed,” Vicky related.

After a while they re-appeared looking immaculate in dark suits and carrying a Louis Vuitton valise, “Thank you for a fabulous evening, darling,” they said, in unison at the front door, and both m’wah m’wah’d Vicky.

“Be in touch soon, won’t you,” she called as Grant started the Aston. They all waved as the Vanquish purred majestically through the iron gates. “I do some referrals to them, of wealthy English people, and they are very generous,” she said as she closed the main door.

“What was that Swedish piece all about?” asked Jon, “what a waste of womanhood!”

“Poor Asa, she’s a brilliant heart surgeon, up there with the best, she too has very rich clients and does extremely well. But she is looking for love, male or female, but he or she must match her pound for pound and must want to fuck every day. She is a complete sex addict, and she’s yet to find ‘the one’. She was married once, but it didn’t last long, the poor guy couldn’t satisfy her. I think that they are still actually married, but she lives alone in a lovely town house on the edge of Hampstead Heath.”

A thought went through Jon’s mind, but he dismissed it quickly, not on the doorstep, he said to himself, but with a smile on his face. But she was gorgeous, oh well, back to the holiday brochures!

ANOTHER HOLIDAY

It had been five months since they got back from New York, Jon was still comfortable, but he felt that he wanted to go on another ‘special job’ as he called it. The car business was going well, and he was making two to three thousand a week, sometimes more. They had found a luxurious apartment in a block in Belsize Park, close to where Vicky lived. He’d left the furnishings etc., to Lorna, her taste was very good and their new home looked marvellous. She was very happy. Baker Street Travel Agents beckoned to Jon one sunny morning, with a window display that announced a new luxury ship and a cruise to the Carribean, the ‘Carribean Star’ certainly looked luxurious. Three weeks to the West Indies from Southampton, £5,500 all included. He entered the shop and recieved a print-out and itinerary of the cruise, saying that he would show it to his partner, and think about it.

“Can you better this price?” Jon said, as he showed her the print-out.

She studied it, and her blood ran cold, “Jon, not again, please. Isn’t the car business enough, you’re doing well,” she almost pleaded.

“Look, I don’t want to be shlapping second-hand motors around for the rest of my life,” he said, as he gently took her shoulders, “just one more run, and that’ll be it,” he begged.

“Okay, okay, but you’ll have to go alone, I don’t want to be there,” she cried.

“Why?” he asked, “I need you there.”

“No, no, no,” she shouted, breaking free, “I’ve had enough, enough, enough,” she shouted.

“Okay Lorns, I’ll go on my own, all right, I’ll go on my own,” he repeated. This girl has got to go, he thought, but one thing at a time.

Lorna came back with a 20 per cent discounted price, “Okay,” Jon said, “book it for me, I’ll give you cash. I’m sorry you won’t be coming, but perhaps it’s for the best,” he leaned forward and kissed her, “let’s have a drink,” he said, and took a bottle of Merlot from the rack. Pouring her a large glass, he said, “Oh by the way, I’ve found the car of your dreams, a Lexus 250 convertible, in white. They’re quite rare I’m told.”

Her face lit up, “Really?” she said, “when will I have it?” she asked, smiling.

“In two days, it’s being showroomed as we speak.”

“Oh, thank you Jon,” she said, and kissed him hard on the mouth.

“Now, let’s forget about all the business, and enjoy each other,” he said. But he had further plans for Lorna. The car was delivered to her on time .... she loved it.

He loaded his cases into the Golf, which he still had as a runabout, an airport car, a docks car, a station car, what a work-horse it was. He had bought, to trade on but fell in love with, a Mercedes Sports SLS 6.3 super car. He kept it in the garage at home, it was his piece of mechanical magic, his trophy, his metallic love. When he drove it, all the dreadful things that he had done melted into insignificance, he was in charge, tha main man, no one could ever take these feelings of superiority away. No Novak, who failed, not Scotland Yard, nobody. He probably knew by now that he was a homicidal maniac, who enjoyed killing women for their diamonds and wealth.

He arrived at the parking shed to begin his embarkation, exactly one hour before sailing, at 4 o’clock. Once again he boarded the devil’s transport, he knew he would kill, he knew he would, once again, sell his soul to Satan for a handful of diamonds.

He found his stateroom, and his bags were soon brought in by ‘Rikki’, a short, skinny, but pleasant Asian boy with a perfect smile and teeth. He tipped him £5, and got the bowing and thanking treatment. He knew the programme well by now, the ‘Carribean Star’ was a very large liner, 90,000 tonnes, 3,000 passengers, 8 bars, 6 restaurants, 2 theatres, a shopping mall, 2 pools etc etc. He was sure that amongst all these people he would find what he was looking for, a huge killing, in more ways than one. He chose a blouson in navy, and a pair of white slacks, white shoes, no shirt. With the silk and cotton jacket unbuttoned to mid-chest, he went down to the shopping mall, just to have a look around. It was early, and the ship had only just sailed, the mall was almost empty but he felt that this would be the centre of his hunting ground. After all, women love shopping, he thought. He would spend many hours here, he looked for CCTV cameras, there were none, good he thought.

He was shown to a table in the ‘Bahama’ restaurant, only two people were there on a table for eight. He introduced himself, “Good evening, I’m Jonathan, from London,” he announced.

A woman, obviously travelling alone, said, “Hello, I’m Amanda from Manchester,” the uninteresting woman said.

The other person, a man, said, “Hello, I’m Michael from Hove,” and stood, holding out his hand, which Jon shook.

“Right, what’s on the menu?” he said, as he looked at the first page of the comprehensive folder.

Amanda opened the ordering by asking for the wine waiter who, with a wave, came in about 30 seconds. She said, “I’ll have a large gin and tonic, with ice and lemon, please.”

Michael ordered a pint, and Jon a perrier with ice and a slice, “It’s a bit early for alcohol,” he said.

Another couple were seated at the table, and once again Michael stood up, held out his hand and introduced himself from Hove. This guy is a lonely bachelor, but he wore expensive clothes and a Rolex watch, possibly a ‘cupboard queen’, Jon guessed. The new arrivals at the table were Jim and Vera, from Essex, jovial and down-to-earth but working-class. “Hello, I’m Jonathan from London,” he heard himself say. Fuck, he thought, you pratt, from now on no real names, tomorrow night a different restaurant, he thought again.

He spent the rest of the evening watching a DVD, but fell asleep before it had finished, waking at 2am in the morning. The machine had switched off, his room was in complete darkness except for moonlight through his balcony window. Was it his imagination that played tricks, or the light bouncing off the chrome balcony rails, or the fact that he was still half asleep? Perhaps it was all three, but there was Helen’s face in an agonised grimace, staring open-mouthed at him. He rushed to pull the curtain and then sat on the bed, in a cold sweat. After about ten minutes he had a cold water face wash, went to the mini bar and had a large brandy. A bad dream made him sit up in bed at 6am, again in a cold sweat, ‘now get a grip, you know why you’re here, money, diamonds, a luxurious future with or without Lorna, but I’ll worry about her later’. He decided to go for a walk on the Promenade deck, to clear his head. Land was in sight, he guessed it was either the Isle of Wight or southern Ireland, but he didn’t really care. He was amazed at how many early morning joggers were pounding around the steel deck, ‘can’t be much good for their spines’ he thought, ‘ they might one day be a patient of Oliver’s, if they can afford him!’ he mused. He went into the coffee shop for a light breakfast, a toasted bagel with smoked salmon and cream cheese, with black coffee. He left feeling much better, it’s true what they say, ‘a good breakfast perks you up’, well at least it’s what he thought they said! As he walked out of the coffee shop, he accidentally bumped into a woman, a very good looking woman, “Sorry,” he said.

She replied, “That’s all right,” with an accent he couldn’t quite place. Perhaps eastern Europe, no, Russian, yes definitely Russian.

“I hope I didn’t bump you too hard,” he added.

“No,” she said, smiling a smile that would melt the hardest of hearts. True to his art, he looked at her hands, fucking hell he thought, look at those rocks! Had he found his prey? May be, but there were over 2,000 passengers on board, he may not see her again, but he sure would try.

As his super luck would have it, she was by the pool when Jon walked around to see the swimming area. ‘What a terrific body she’s got’ he thought as she lay on a sun bed in a white bikini. She was wearing sunglasses, he couldn’t see that she followed him with her eyes as he walked past pretending not to notice her among the other sun-bathers. The sun was high and fairly hot, about 78 or 79 degrees he reckoned. He looked good, he still had a tan from previous holidays which was set off by his white shorts and white T-shirt, and went and sat on the opposite side of the pool, near the bar. There was a rack of newspapers close, he chose one and sort of read it, while keeping an occasional eye on the girl. He looked across at her over the newspaper, and to his amazement, she waved. He waved back, but went back to his paper, ‘play it cool, Jon, play it cool’ he said to himself.

A shadow came across him, standing there was a steward, “Excuse me, sir, the lady on the other side of the pool would like you to join her for a drink.” Jon thanked him, and nodded in agreement. As he did, the girl was already standing to walk towards him, it was more comfortable at the table. ‘Am I going crazy, is this a dream?’ he thought, and pinched himself, no it was no dream.

“Hello again,” he said as he stood and held out his hand.

She took it and smiled, “No bump this time!” she laughed. Jon pulled a chair and held it for her to sit down. “I’m Katti,” she said, “that’s short for Kattinaya,” she said, introducing herself.

“I’m Jon, short for Jonathan,” he laughed.

“Are you cruising alone, Jon?” Katti asked.

“Yes,” he replied, “are you?”

“Yes,” she answered, “I’m celebrating my freedom, I’ve just divorced. I’ve already had a party at home in St Petersburg, now I want rest, sun and some fun,” she enthused. Her accent was extremely sexy, her body gorgeous and her diamond rings very, very desirable. “I hope you didn’t mind me sending the steward over to ask you for a drink, but I wanted to meet a friend so that I would enjoy the holiday to a greater extent, okay?”