Cold Grave (5 page)

‘Were they the ones from your corridor?’ Anya asked.

Martin shook his head. ‘Sounds like it was a huge night all over. If this keeps up, it’s going to be a very long fortnight.’

Anya felt sorry for him. Clearly, things weren’t going well with his girlfriend, he had been kept awake and intimidated by other passengers, and by being a good Samaritan, had exposed himself to the risk of serious infection.

A group of young women, all wearing sunglasses, silently traipsed to the juice bar. They, too, looked like they’d been up all night.

‘Maybe we’re the odd ones out. Somewhere along the line, we must have got old,’ Martin mused before consuming the last of his pancakes.

Anya disagreed. ‘We just grew up. We had to. We’ve seen too many lives ruined by excess alcohol and stupidity, on what should have been a fun night out.’

‘Casualty and the Saturday Night Specials.’ He chewed and swallowed. ‘You know, I used to begrudge having to work those shifts, plus Christmas and New Year because I didn’t have a family back then. Truth was, I hated seeing lives destroyed by drunk drivers, senseless brawls and overdoses.’

‘We were lucky. In our day, people used their fists, now young guys carry knives and guns.’

‘I worry about Ben, Annie. How do we protect him?’

She had wondered the same thing. ‘By encouraging other interests, like you’re already doing. Swimming, sport, study, weekends away, holidays, like this one. And show by example. It’s all we can do.’

‘You’re right.’ He locked eyes and Anya felt an intensity she hadn’t seen since they had separated. She wasn’t sure how to respond so she looked away.

‘Maybe you should head back to bed for a couple of hours and catch up on your sleep. You can use our cabin. I can check on Ben and—’

Martin finished the last morsel on his plate and patted his belly. ‘After that meal, I should go for two runs, but a snooze does sound like a good idea. My cabin will be fine, but thanks for the offer.’

He stood and left, while Anya chose to stay and finish her water. From her reading, a few years ago, people would average a one-and-a-half-pound weight gain during a week-long cruise. Now, it was more like three times that amount. Judging by the amount of food, even on kids’ plates, it was easy to see why.

A table nearby was cleared. Two women sat with their meals and a clean-shaven man in a gaudy shirt quickly homed in. The conversation was loud enough for everyone to hear.

‘Hey ladies, fancy coming back to my cabin for a bit of one-on-one, or should I say, two-on-one?’ He did a pelvic thrust and made a ‘V’ with his hands pointing to his crotch. A mother shielded her young daughter’s ears and told her husband to hurry and finish his food.

‘Come on.’ He invited himself to a seat. ‘You came here for a good time, I can make all your dreams come true, ladies.’

Anya found it difficult to believe that anyone would think a pick-up line like that would work.

One of the women giggled and covered her mouth. The other didn’t appear impressed.

‘Thanks, but we’ve got boyfriends back home.’

‘So? Some of us have got wives, but it’s cool. What happens on a cruise stays on the cruise, if you know what I mean.’

Within moments, the surrounding tables seemed to empty of families. There was something beyond annoying about the man’s arrogance.

The two women excused themselves and left, despite vocal protests from the man. Anya saw him look her way, and decided it was a good time to check on Ben.

As she left the buffet area, William approached.

‘Doctor Crichton, I’m really sorry to disturb you, but it’s about the incident this morning. Our head of security has asked if you could meet him as soon as possible.’ He leant closer. ‘In the ship’s morgue. Something about the body.’

4

FitzHarris greeted Anya at the morgue.

‘Thanks for coming.’ This time he shook her hand. ‘Please understand that you’re under no obligation to further assist in this matter.’

‘If I can help, I will.’

FitzHarris nodded and led her into an area directly beneath the medical centre. The sudden change in temperature sent a shiver through her. ‘How many bodies can be accommodated?’

‘Most ships I’ve worked on can store three bodies, but this one has storage for six. I guess it’s because of the sea crossing between Hawaii and Fiji. Normally the family would disembark at the next port and the body would be repatriated from there. Sometimes, people request their loved one be buried at sea. In that case, we can do a small service with the captain officiating. Obviously, it’s something we wouldn’t advertise.’

Anya wondered about the implications if a post-mortem was required. In this case, without a pathologist to confirm the exact cause of death, a death certificate could not be issued. Small ports couldn’t always satisfy international travel requirements for a deceased person, let alone provide facilities and qualified staff for a post-mortem.

‘What happens from here? Are police likely to come on board?’

‘I’ve notified the captain, and he’s liaising with head office. According to our procedures, they’ll notify the Hawaiian coastguard who in turn contacts the FBI.’ He scratched the back of his neck. ‘I’m still waiting to hear back, normally they respond quicker than this.’

‘So what are you asking me to do?’

‘Doctor Novak took some bloods. We can test for basic things here but I thought you might be able to give us an expert opinion.’ He walked over to a metal door and opened it. Dark hair was visible. He pulled four gloves from his hip pocket.

‘You might want these.’

Anya took a pair. Due to the cold temperature, the powder on the latex made her cough.

Fitz slid out the metal drawer containing the body, and the stench of vomitus filled Anya’s nostrils. This time, a white sheet covered Lilly to the neck.

‘Would you agree there was alcohol on her shirt?’

‘It was definitely present,’ Anya said.

FitzHarris took notes. ‘Apparently, the family swear blind she had never drunk before and never would. The sister spun some story about how Lilly couldn’t sleep so snuck out to Centennial Garden at around 10.30 p.m. to read – wait for it . . . Shakespeare.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘If she was checking YouTube or texting, I might buy it. Wouldn’t be the first time a kid from a good home went off the rails first chance they got.’

Anya examined Lilly’s hands – they were fine-boned with long, sinewy fingers. The tips on the left were thickened and raised. She checked the other side. Those cushions were bluish and soft. Every nail was neatly trimmed and free of polish. None was broken or damaged, to suggest a struggle. ‘Calluses are the result of repetitive stress and friction. The girl could have played a stringed instrument like the guitar. See the left hand?’

Fitz agreed. ‘Any further thoughts on why she was so wet?’

They had already agreed she hadn’t been in the spa or pools. ‘There were men with high-pressure hoses cleaning near where she was found, and then
afterward
as well.’ Anya emphasised the point about the destruction of evidence.

FitzHarris looked across, jaw clenched. ‘Are you serious? I left specific instructions for my men to secure that scene.’

‘Nothing was cordoned off. The deck’s been cleaned and passengers were already back in the spa.’

His face hardened. It was unclear whether he was embarrassed at the incompetence of his staff or the fact that Anya knew before he did. He pulled off his gloves and stabbed a number on his mobile. ‘I’ll be right back.’

The door slammed in his wake and Anya moved closer to examine Lilly’s arms. The skin was blemish free, and there were no track marks in the elbow creases. She was unlikely to have used intravenous drugs, or been injected with any. Anya noticed bruising on the insides of the girl’s upper arms, which was unusual. The oval and round marks could have been caused by someone grabbing her around each arm – either holding her down or dragging her. They were unlikely to have been caused by bumping into something or day-to-day activities, even for a physically active teenager.

Anya moved some of the girl’s hair to the side and smelt the subtle hint of apple shampoo. She gently examined Lilly’s head, looking for obvious signs of trauma; no bruising, lacerations, lumps or fractures. No facial marks, no small haemorrhages and the whites of her eyes were clear. The one hint of imperfection was a small pimple on the left side of the slightly rounded chin.

A dark mark was present on the right side of the neck beneath the angle of the jaw. Anya leant in for a closer examination. The oval, blackened section of skin was 2.5 cm
_×
1.5 cm, the size of a thumb pressed heavily into the skin, just over the carotid artery. It could have been caused prior to her being found, or during the resuscitation attempt. Then again, teenagers were known to get hickeys in that spot. Anya ran her index finger over the mark. Just beneath the skin were tiny, raised lesions. She didn’t remember seeing the bruise when they lifted Lilly out onto the deck. Then again, she had not had a good view of the girl’s face during the resuscitation attempt.

She checked for other bruises on the front of the torso. There weren’t any visible.

Both elbows had grazes over the joints, possibly caused by carpet burn.

FitzHarris banged open the door, slammed it and paced. His limp had become more defined.

‘I ordered that idiot to seal off the area. Seems he thought that meant wash everything in sight. Is life so cheap to some people that they just clean up and act like nothing ever happened?’

Anya had wondered the same thing. ‘How many security staff do you have on board?’

‘Three, and the night duty manager’s a woman I hand-selected. I didn’t get to choose the others. They’re just foisted on me. They know diddly squat about police work or security and just parade around in uniform flexing their muscles, checking out the women.’

He scratched his neck again and relaxed his shoulders. ‘What do you think of that mark on her neck?’

Anya lifted the chin, studied it again, and listed the possible causes.

‘So we don’t have jack. Could be someone tried to strangle her, or hold her down, or not.’

Microscopic examination would provide more information as to how long the bruise had been present. ‘It’s worth taking a swab just in case it’s a fingermark and there’s any DNA from skin cells or saliva from a hickey.’ She didn’t add that the water could have washed off any evidence; she hoped it may have been protected by the girl’s curled-up posture in the cupboard.

The security officer pulled a swab from a plastic tackle box and handed it across. Anya wiped the skin and placed the swab back in its tube. FitzHarris quickly labelled it, noting the time, body location and Lilly’s name. Anya repeated the procedure for the marks on the upper arms.

‘Can you help roll her? I want to check the back.’

FitzHarris obliged and leant over to see what Anya described. ‘There’s grazing down her back. My guess is she was dragged on carpet.’

‘Wouldn’t have taken much effort. What is she? About a hundred pounds max?’

Any fibres left on deck would have been washed down the drain by now. The colour of the carpet may have at least narrowed down the areas of the ship in which she could have been.

They rolled Lilly gently onto her back again.

‘I’ve put her clothes on a sheet to dry before I bag them. Maybe there’ll be something there.’

FitzHarris seemed more familiar with forensic science than Anya had anticipated. Most people didn’t think to dry specimens first; unaware that the moisture in clothes could interfere with DNA analysis.

Anya kept the top half of the sheet covering Lilly’s body, and moved to the feet. ‘Where did you work before this?’ she asked, exposing the legs, to the tops of the thighs.

‘Twenty years with the NYPD, eight of them in homicide.’

Finger-sized bruises bordered both knees and three fist-sized ones marked her inner thighs. Anya thought of Lilly’s last few hours. ‘Either she had incredibly rough sex or . . .’

‘We’re looking at rape and murder.’ FitzHarris pulled more swabs from his kit.

Anya wiped separate cotton tips on the surface of each bruise. The chances of finding any physical evidence were slim, but she felt it was worth trying.