Free Waves of Murder by J B Raphael Page B

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