Cold Grave (40 page)

Anya pressed on the dead woman’s chest. Pink frothy fluid erupted from the nose and mouth, bringing with it a foul smell.

Fitz stepped back. ‘She is dead. I checked for a pulse.’

‘It’s haemorrhagic fluid from the lungs, and airways. We need a toxicology screen and full post-mortem. We could be looking at pulmonary oedema from another cause, but it’s highly possible she drowned. Working out time of death’s more difficult. It depends on the temperature of the water she was immersed in.’

‘Does the goose flesh on her arms tell you anything?’

‘The erector pilae muscles spasm as a result of rigor mortis, so no.’ Anya pressed on the upper abdomen and more froth and liquid spilled out of the mouth and nose. ‘There’s fluid in her stomach as well. My first thoughts are that she drowned. So far, no defence injuries to suggest a struggle, either.’

Fitz shone a light over some of the fluid from the mouth. Something caught Anya’s attention. She bent down to closer examine the nose. ‘Can you hold the torch over the nose?’

He obliged.

‘There’s something tiny stuck to one of the hairs just inside the nostril. Can I borrow the magnifying glass?’

He handed it over.

‘There’s something in there. I’ll need tweezers and a slide plate.’

The security officer ferreted through his box. ‘These do?’ he handed her a pair of fine-tipped tweezers, as if they were a peace offering.

Anya felt comfortable again with him. They were working on the same side and had been all along, it seemed. At the very least, no other security officer would be so well-equipped in a morgue.

‘You must have been a boy scout.’ She tried to lighten the mood.

‘Until fourteen. Dib, dib, dib,’ he muttered and moved to the other side of the steel tray, where he held the slide and torch.

‘I thought it moved, but that could have been the hair when the fluid gushed out. Whatever it is, it’s hanging tight.’

She plucked the hair and lay it on the glass slide. With magnification and light, she could see it more clearly. ‘It looks like a slater bug, only much, much smaller.’

Fitz stood up straight. ‘Damn. On top of all this, are you going to tell me the ship’s infested with some kind of bug?’

Anya didn’t want to consider the possibility either. ‘It’s tiny, less than a millimetre.’

‘Would a microscope help?’

Anya looked at his kitbag. ‘Don’t tell me you have one of those too.’

‘Do you know how much those things cost? There’s a digital one in the medical centre. If we can identify the damn thing, the sooner the better.’

He covered the body, slid it into the recess and closed the door while Anya removed the gloves and washed her hands.

On the way up in the lift, Anya carried the slide. Fitz leant against the lift wall, scratching his arm. ‘This is turning into the cruise from hell. I can already see the headlines.’

‘It might not be anything.’ She changed the subject. ‘If you knew Rachel was telling the truth about Nuala’s assault, why did you put her under cabin arrest?’

‘Someone wanted Carlos silenced. Karen caught her trying to inject the wrong drug. I had no choice but to protect Carlos for the time being. Rachel’s a good nurse and shouldn’t make mistakes like that. I ran a check and she’s been a member of Green Speak, Citizens against Global Warming and other groups.’

‘Do you really think Rachel tried to kill Carlos?’ She thought back to Rachel’s shock when it was decided to amputate his legs. Someone who wanted to harm him would not have been so keen to save his legs.

‘I wouldn’t have picked her for a killer, but I had one in the family for years and didn’t know it. I’m not taking any chances.’

At least if she was confined to her room, Rachel was less likely to be killed by whoever harmed Mishka.

‘Is she safely confined?’

‘Housekeeping, the hotel manager, and security are the only ones with overriding keys. She won’t starve, if that’s what you’re getting at.’

‘Don’t you mean universal keys?’

‘No, we need to be able to override the deadlocks, in case passengers refuse to open up.’

‘If deadlocks don’t protect passengers, women sleeping assume they’re safe but are still vulnerable to sexual assault. Nuala said she was assaulted by a security guard. He could have overriden her lock.’

‘I take your point, but the system still has to function.’

They entered the medical centre.

‘The microscope’s in here.’

It was the same room she had been in once before with the blood gas and other high-tech machines.

Turning on the power, she placed the slide into position. The monitor screen glowed white. Anya navigated the slide until the creature came into view.

‘There it is.’

It was a segmented invertebrate, with antennae at the head. At the posterior end were a number of round-shaped objects, and a filamentous trail behind the body.

‘It’s small enough to get in anywhere. Hell, if people are carrying it in their noses . . .’ Fitz didn’t finish the thought.

‘It’s female and fully grown. Those are eggs inside.’ She pointed to the posterior end.

‘What are we looking at? Mite, louse, bed bug?’ Fitz scratched himself again.

Anya didn’t think so. ‘It’s far too small. And it isn’t an insect. I think it came from the water. If we can identify what sort of water it lives in, we might be able to narrow down where on the ship Mishka could have drowned.’

She took a digital picture and saved the file.

‘Jeremy Wise, the environmental officer, has a science degree, specialising in microbiology, if that helps.’

‘Can you get him here?’

FitzHarris was already making the call.

42

Jeremy studied the image on the medical centre microscope.

‘This is brilliant,’ he declared. ‘Isn’t she a wonder?’

That wasn’t a word Anya normally associated with wriggling organisms.

‘It’s most definitely a crustacean. Do you have access to the internet up here?’

‘Any of the consulting rooms, and the doctor and head nurse’s office.’

Anya and FitzHarris followed him into Karen’s room, where she was waiting with Martin.

When he saw Anya, Martin stood, hands in his denim pockets and raised his eyebrows.

‘This is Jeremy Wise, the ship’s environmental officer. He needs to look something up on the web.’

Karen vacated her chair and Jeremy enthusiastically took her place and logged in. ‘Science is all about solving life’s mysteries,’ he said, adjusting his glasses.

He had no idea how relevant his comment was.

Martin took the opportunity to talk to FitzHarris.

‘The police were pretty quick to blame that environmental group for bombing the Anderson family boat that happened to wipe out most of the heirs.’

Fitz crossed his arms. ‘Your point?’

‘Shouldn’t every investigation begin with who is likely to benefit most from the deaths?’

‘That would be Mats, the third wife and her kid. Old man Anderson was worth a fortune. A couple of years ago when his new wife had a daughter, there was speculation as to how his estate would be divided when he eventually dropped off his perch. The other people to benefit would be his business competitors, along with everyone else he or the family rubbed up the wrong way.’

‘Well,’ Karen stood, arms folded. ‘I know Rachel. She couldn’t be involved in anything like terrorism. What would she possibly have to gain? She’s terrified.’

‘Of getting caught, or something else?’

Anya stepped forward. ‘From what I can tell, it was public knowledge that the family convened on the yacht for family occasions. The media was already covering it because it was Mats’ fortieth.’

‘It’s a lot of collateral damage for someone who was passionate about saving wildlife and the environment,’ Karen argued.

‘Fundamental right-to-lifers have no hesitation in killing doctors working in clinics,’ Martin conceded.

Anya argued, ‘Only Lars was demanding the company improve energy efficiency and work toward sustainability for ships.’

‘You know this how?’ Fitz demanded. ‘Something else Rachel sprouted?’

Anya collected the bag from the floor and placed it on the examination couch. She located the copy of Lars’s 400-page business plan and gave it to Fitz. ‘This is what Mishka kept hidden, and was probably killed for.’

Karen moved over and began to flick through the papers.

‘Narrowing it down . . .’ Jeremy looked up, then down again. ‘It’s definitely a copepod.’ He searched something else. ‘I think this is it.
Porcellidium
. It looks like a miniature garden slater.’

‘I don’t care what it’s called,’ Fitz snapped, ‘I just want to know if it’s some kind of outbreak.’

Jeremy placed both hands on the table. ‘I’ve never actually seen this species before. This female’s carrying eggs so the breeding conditions have obviously been favourable.’

The word breeding caused Karen to cover her mouth. ‘Are you saying we’ve got an infestation? The ship will have to be quarantined at the next port . . .’

‘Before we go off half-baked, we need to be sure. Do you have any idea where it came from? Food supplies, wheat or rice?’ Fitz pressed. ‘The captain will be here any minute to see for himself.’

Jeremy sat back. ‘It isn’t like that. This isn’t an insect. It’s a crustacean. They occur in sea water.’ He scrolled the screen. ‘That’s it! I’ve got it. This is a
Porcellidium ravanae
. They live on seaweed in rock pools. Looks like this one’s only found off the coast of India.’ He looked up, chest puffed. ‘We can send it for confirmation ID, but that could take days.’

‘Great. The woman dies in Indian waters then mysteriously turns up in our morgue. This is insane.’ Fitz turned to Anya. ‘Is it in any way possible the dead body has been on the ship for months? Frozen or otherwise?’ He rubbed his forehead. ‘Are you absolutely sure this is the woman you saw outside your cabin?’

Anya doubted the crustacean would have survived outside of water for long.

Jeremy interjected. ‘I can’t explain how it got onto your body, but I know where this one could have come from. The ship takes on and releases ballast water, depending on the onboard weight and sea conditions. Water got picked up on the Indian leg, and is still in the ballast tanks. The
Porcellidium
was probably going about its business on the water’s surface in the tank.’

‘That has to be where Mishka drowned, and inhaled the organism,’ Anya said. ‘She was collecting samples and having them analysed by outside laboratories. Maybe she slipped.’

‘Or was pushed.’ FitzHarris was already dialling the captain. ‘Anya, I’m going to need you to come with me, it’s still a possible crime scene.’

Karen placed her hand on Fitz’s and laid some papers from Anya’s bag on her desk. ‘You might want to see this first.’

He hung up before being connected.

‘They’re logs of some kind. This one is signed by Carlos. The other is dated the same day, but the signature’s different, so are the figures.’

‘They’re probably from different sections.’ Jeremy looked closely. ‘Wait. This can’t be right. These are waste disposal logs, only there has to be an error on the date.’

‘This one is unsigned,’ Fitz noted. ‘I can’t read the other scrawl.’

‘I don’t have to,’ Karen said. ‘I’d know that handwriting anywhere. He comes into the clinic every couple of days.’ She moved to her filing cabinet and pulled out a thick folder. ‘Incident reports from the world’s greatest hypochondriac. A scratch and he thinks he’s dying from blood-poisoning and wants compassionate leave to sort out his affairs.’ She passed a document to Fitz.

‘You’re right. It’s identical.’ He looked up. ‘Who is it?’

‘Sergio, or Cockroach. He works in the waste centre.’