Cold Grave (29 page)

The door opened, and Anya breathed a genuine sigh of relief. She wanted to get out into the corridor where she felt she could breathe properly.

‘Are you all right?’ Laura sounded concerned.

‘Just got a little claustrophobic after the first few minutes.’

FitzHarris was not so kind. ‘What the hell were you doing?’ He scowled. ‘Find what you wanted?’

Anya refused to meet his eyes. Instead, she pulled her camera from her pocket. The security officer grabbed it and immediately checked the pictures. There were none taken inside his office.

He took a slow deep breath out. ‘You and I need to talk.’ He ordered the technician to take a break and Laura scampered at his tone.

Anya wanted to flee too. ‘We have nothing to say,’ she said. ‘I need to go be with my son.’

‘And your
ex
-husband.’

Anya glared at him. ‘You had no right to go through my things.’

‘Inside. Now!’

Anya resisted, but he pushed her by the arm and kicked the door closed behind them. She looked around the room for something she could use as a weapon if he tried to attack her.

‘Who are you really working for?’ he almost spat as he scanned the room.

Anya pulled her arm free. ‘Me? You can’t be serious. I came on a holiday and you know it. Do you know the addresses and personal details of every passenger, or did we get special treatment?’

‘Most passengers don’t have their holidays paid for by a private investigator’s company. And the reason people divorce is because they can’t stand to be together. This friendly routine with your ex isn’t fooling me. The charade ends now.’

Anya began to suspect FitzHarris was disturbed. ‘You think this is an act?’

‘Who are you working for?’

Suddenly, it made a little sense. FitzHarris had assumed she was a whistleblower from what he had read in the papers. Ethan Rye had bought the cruise tickets on behalf of the owner of the Jersey Bombers, so the bill was in the name of his private investigation company.

‘You think I’m out to sabotage the company?’ She almost laughed and some of her fear subsided.

‘You tell me. It’s a nice cover, the whole family thing.’

‘You can check out Ethan Rye. He works for the Jersey Bombers, and is like a son to the owner. He handles all of the owner’s private affairs, and this trip was a thankyou bonus for the work I did with them. Ring the Bombers, they’ll verify it.’

FitzHarris squinted. ‘And Martin?’

‘He has custody of our son. We’ve begun to get along, which is cheaper and far healthier for Ben than us fighting over access in the courts.’

Anya moved a box of files onto a spare bit of floor and sat in the chair. ‘Why would I arrange for a visitor in the night to deliver me some cryptic message about not trusting anyone.’

‘Maybe you have a mole in your organisation.’

‘You are the mole in yours.’ Anya fired back.

FitzHarris crossed his arms and widened his stance. ‘What the hell is that supposed to mean?’

‘You’re working for Mats Anderson.’ Anya stood up, reached over and pulled the file out from under the Incidents folder. ‘You had no intention of investigating Lilly Chan’s death or finding out who shot Carlos. That’s why the FBI hasn’t been in touch, or Interpol.’

FitzHarris rubbed his face with his hands. ‘I’ve been busting my butt to get answers.’ He moved over and slumped into his own chair. ‘I’m hog-tied. Because these ships are registered offshore, they’re foreign. What I told you is true. The FBI will only come on board to investigate a crime involving a US citizen. Right now, Lilly Chan wouldn’t appeal to them even if she were American. There’s nothing to prove she was murdered or sexually assaulted.
Nothing
.’

The man had a point.

A knock at the door interrupted them.

‘Come in!’ Fitz said, louder than necessary given the gaping hole in the door where the lock used to be.

Laura appeared with a clipboard, which she handed across. Anya suspected she was checking on both of them. FitzHarris flicked through a series of pages and initialled each one. The IT expert took back the clipboard and left.

Anya waited while FitzHarris dialled the switchboard. ‘I want to speak to Lyle Buffet, from the Jersey Bombers, New Jersey.’

A few minutes passed and he was finally connected. The part of the conversation she could hear began with him asking if Buffet knew anything about Anya Crichton and where she went after leaving New York. FitzHarris covered his eyes with one hand, and listened to the person on the other end of the line, only contributing the occasional, ‘Uh huh,’ and ‘Yes, sir.’

‘Thank you, sir. Keep up all your great work.’ He hung up and glanced back at Anya. ‘He verified sending you on a cruise from Hawaii and how an Ethan Rye was supposed to organise it.’

Anya stood up to leave.

‘We’re not finished,’ FitzHarris said calmly. ‘If that woman came to your cabin uninvited, it could have been a warning or a threat.’

She had already considered that and decided to quiz him.

‘You said Nuala failed to renew her contract.’

‘I believe that’s what I said.’ His expression did not change. ‘Have you seen her impostor again?’

‘No, but I wondered why she would use Nuala’s name.’ She watched his face for any reaction.

‘She found an old badge and dressed up for a laugh.’ He changed the subject. ‘It always amazes me how many women fall all over a man in uniform. The officers could be full-time Romeos if they took up all the offers they get.’

Before, he had seemed concerned about someone impersonating an officer. Anya decided to push him.

‘It doesn’t bother you anymore that a woman misrepresented herself as crew?’

‘Of course it does. But what can I do? There are over three thousand passengers on board, one of whom is an amateur international lawyer. If we screened passengers for fantasies, we’d be out of business. Did she hurt anyone? No. You said she hasn’t bothered you since.’ He looked up, with hollow eyes. ‘Excuse me if I have a few bigger fish to fry right now.’

He opened the top drawer and pulled out a mint, unwrapped it and popped it in his mouth.

‘I think Nuala was a deliberate choice,’ Anya began, ‘because a Nuala McKenny reported a rape, then disappeared overboard.’

‘Whoever you’ve been talking to is feeding you a line.’

‘Just a minute.’ Anya felt her anger rise. He was dismissing the rape. Maybe he had helped cover it up. ‘I wanted to know why someone would use her name. I looked her up online. Just like anyone can.’

He stared at her, one eye squinting. ‘Well, I heard differently. From what I read, she busts up with her boyfriend, makes some wild accusations then jumps overboard. A number of colleagues said she’d been depressed and her work wasn’t up to scratch.’

Anya was convinced Rachel had told the truth. ‘Which the family seemed to adamantly deny.’

‘Since when does a grieving family ever stand up and say, yeah, we should have done more, we should have seen the signs, but we were too busy with our heads up our own backsides to notice.’ With a lowered voice, he continued the aggression. ‘Has it occurred to you that sometimes people don’t want to be helped? Maybe you should spend less time sticking your nose into other people’s business, and pay more attention to your own family.’

Anya couldn’t believe his newfound arrogance. The back of her neck began to itch. She headed out the door, and he followed. Spinning on her heel, she pointed her index finger near his chest. ‘Let’s get something straight. You asked me for help and I’ve done everything I can, and more. Now you tell me to get lost.’ She turned, not caring if anyone heard her. ‘You’re the one with his head up his arse. I hope you enjoy the view.’ She took off down the corridor, fuming. He was a pig of a man. She didn’t know why she hadn’t seen it sooner. There was no way she could risk telling him about Mishka.

‘Anya, wait!’

She ignored him and continued to the lift. He followed and made the lift just as the doors closed.

‘I’m sorry. I was a jerk. You didn’t deserve that.’

They rode in silence to the atrium floor. She headed aft and he kept pace.

As she stopped to end the conversation once and for all, a loud crash and shouting came through the side door of the restaurant.

‘You did that on purpose. You broke my plates.’

‘You should not have left them there.’

‘You will pay for them.’

‘No! I will not. If you were not so stupid. You were stealing my cutlery.’

Fitz pulled her by the arm. ‘Come with me.’ His limp was more pronounced this morning as he led her into the side door. The restaurant was preparing for yet another meal.

‘They could come to blows over this one.’ Fitz said, releasing his grip.

‘Over a broken plate or two?’

He sighed. ‘Wouldn’t be the first time. Dining room staff have to pay for breakages and losses. That way they’re a hell of a lot more careful. If they don’t have enough for their service, they get blasted by the maître d’. Speaking of whom . . .’

The maître d’ had already heard the commotion and was speeding toward the arguing staff.

‘We’ll let the boss handle this one.’ Fitz pulled out a chair at the table closest to the door. ‘Look, I’m apologising. I had no right to go off at you like that.’

Anya chose to remain standing.

A waiter passed and bumped Fitz’s extended right leg. He winced and perspiration soaked his forehead.

‘I’ll get you some water.’ Anya moved to a station with rows of water in jugs and filled a glass.

‘Thanks.’ He took a few large gulps and rubbed his leg, which seemed to provide some relief. He then gestured for her to join him at the table, which she did.

‘People die every day in the city, some aren’t found in their apartments for years. No one bats an eyelid.’

‘Fitz, thirty-seven people disappeared without a trace from cruise ships alone in the last two years.’

‘Yeah, well. You’ve already seen what alcohol, drugs and gambling can do. Some guy loses the family savings in the casino. A wife tries one more time to make the marriage work, then finds he has no intention of saving the relationship. Some have a fight and on the spur of the moment do something stupid. Some are simple accidents. Remember planking? Morons proved Darwin’s theory by trying that one on balcony railings. In one case, a mental patient threw someone over the side. Do you think we should screen guests for stupidity, addictions and mental illness? That should cut down the problems. Oh yeah, and maybe ninety percent of the clientele.’

‘Point taken. But Lilly Chan’s death proves how difficult it is to investigate suspicious deaths on a ship.’

The salt shaker warranted his attention. ‘Ships can be pretty goddamn lonely if things are going bad – and they’re a pressure cooker when relationships get involved. How many cops and doctors have ended it all and everyone stands back scratching their heads wondering why? Sometimes there is no “why”.’ He sighed. ‘All I’m saying is that for some reason, a cruise is supposed to be an escape from everything bad in people’s lives. Well, guess what? There is no paradise. Problems and the past stick like shit to a baby blanket, wherever anyone goes.’

‘Fine, but what if Nuala was raped? Was there a proper investigation?’

‘I wasn’t here, but when her colleagues said she was depressed and the crew member confirmed the relationship split, the investigation wrapped.’

‘What about a rape kit?’

He sipped more water. ‘Nothing in the file. If she reported a rape but wasn’t prepared to be examined, it also suggests that she’d falsified the accusation. Who knows? If she had gone to the medical centre, maybe things would have been different.’

Anya went and filled a glass of water for herself, trying not to show what she was thinking. Rachel said she had seen Nuala’s injuries in the examination room, and that they were consistent with a violent sexual assault. But the notes had vanished, just like Nuala. Someone had to have covered up or disposed of that evidence. Or someone in the company hierarchy did it for them.