morphine.
Anya took a sip of her drink. She was too tired for anything stronger and wanted to rehydrate. Years ago she had learnt that dealing with stress through alcohol was counterproductive. It only temporarily numbed emotions, which would predictably erupt later, at the most inopportune time.
Martin joined her. ‘Well, Ben’s in the middle of pirate night and begged to stay. I didn’t have the heart or energy to argue.’
Anya was glad. Martin deserved to unwind after the horrors of the day, particularly as it had been so long since he had dealt with patients or handled an emergency. He had been confident and purposeful during the procedure with Carlos, but now he looked weary.
The sea breeze was nippy, but the fresh air on her skin was refreshing. Thankfully, the deck was still quiet and relatively private. An entertainment crew was preparing lights and a disc jockey was setting up his equipment under a small rotunda. Many of the passengers were still divided between the second dinner sitting and one of the theatrical shows.
Somewhere onboard was a gunman. Possibly the same person who had been involved with Lilly’s death. She looked around at the other people on deck. It was unnerving. Any one of them could be a killer. But when she rationalised it, this ship was like a town, with a population in the thousands. Shootings tended to be crimes of passion, drug or gang related, so the shooter didn’t stray far from their usual home. Carlos was not randomly shot. He had been targeted for a specific reason, possibly even racial.
‘I don’t think anyone’s planning on shooting us tonight,’ Martin said, catching her look.
Anya smiled. ‘No.’
In reality, whoever left Lilly Chan to die was far more dangerous. When Carlos was conscious, he could be questioned. Maybe he knew what had happened to Lilly, and who was involved.
Karen arrived and requested a mango mocktail, which sounded more exotic with her southern American accent. With their drinks, they headed for a quiet table behind the dance floor. ‘God, what a day.’ The nurse slumped into a chair and kicked off her sandals. She had changed into a nondescript pale shirt and jeans after showering Carlos’s blood from her skin while Anya and Doctor Novak sewed up the wounds. Her short hair was wavy when wet, which made her look younger than her years.
‘I’m used to occasional emergencies onboard, but nothing like today. I’ve seen old people die in their beds. It’s the way some of them want to go.’ She pushed the straw to the side and sipped from the glass. ‘Who would believe the cost of constantly travelling on cruises is comparable to buying into a nursing home?’
‘I know where I’d rather be,’ Martin announced. ‘No pureed food or unidentifiable slops for five o’clock dinner.’
‘The cruise lines are starting to clamp down on it. Too much of a drain on the small medical teams. Did you know the line employs older men to dance with the widows who travel alone? They’re a significant part of the entertainment. We have one widow who’s a regular livewire – she’s eighty-four and can samba with the twenty year olds. The sixty-year-old escorts can’t keep up with her.’
Anya laughed. She could see her own grandmother being like that. She twisted the ring on her right middle finger, which had once belonged to her favoured Nanna.
‘Never underestimate an octogenarian with dancing shoes,’ Martin quipped.
‘That will be me in a few years,’ Karen said, only she was not smiling. ‘Atlanta, Georgia, doesn’t have the same feel I’m afraid. Unfortunately, Carlos’s days on ships are over. And that poor girl from this morning . . . I need to check the blood results after this. With everything that happened this afternoon, I haven’t had a chance.’ She took a bigger sip of the mocktail. ‘You know, some of the crew are saying this cruise is cursed. There’s a rumour that not one, but two albatrosses have flown around the
Anya took a sip of her drink. She was too tired for anything stronger and wanted to rehydrate. Years ago she had learnt that dealing with stress through alcohol was counterproductive. It only temporarily numbed emotions, which would predictably erupt later, at the most inopportune time.
Martin joined her. ‘Well, Ben’s in the middle of pirate night and begged to stay. I didn’t have the heart or energy to argue.’
Anya was glad. Martin deserved to unwind after the horrors of the day, particularly as it had been so long since he had dealt with patients or handled an emergency. He had been confident and purposeful during the procedure with Carlos, but now he looked weary.
The sea breeze was nippy, but the fresh air on her skin was refreshing. Thankfully, the deck was still quiet and relatively private. An entertainment crew was preparing lights and a disc jockey was setting up his equipment under a small rotunda. Many of the passengers were still divided between the second dinner sitting and one of the theatrical shows.
Somewhere onboard was a gunman. Possibly the same person who had been involved with Lilly’s death. She looked around at the other people on deck. It was unnerving. Any one of them could be a killer. But when she rationalised it, this ship was like a town, with a population in the thousands. Shootings tended to be crimes of passion, drug or gang related, so the shooter didn’t stray far from their usual home. Carlos was not randomly shot. He had been targeted for a specific reason, possibly even racial.
‘I don’t think anyone’s planning on shooting us tonight,’ Martin said, catching her look.
Anya smiled. ‘No.’
In reality, whoever left Lilly Chan to die was far more dangerous. When Carlos was conscious, he could be questioned. Maybe he knew what had happened to Lilly, and who was involved.
Karen arrived and requested a mango mocktail, which sounded more exotic with her southern American accent. With their drinks, they headed for a quiet table behind the dance floor. ‘God, what a day.’ The nurse slumped into a chair and kicked off her sandals. She had changed into a nondescript pale shirt and jeans after showering Carlos’s blood from her skin while Anya and Doctor Novak sewed up the wounds. Her short hair was wavy when wet, which made her look younger than her years.
‘I’m used to occasional emergencies onboard, but nothing like today. I’ve seen old people die in their beds. It’s the way some of them want to go.’ She pushed the straw to the side and sipped from the glass. ‘Who would believe the cost of constantly travelling on cruises is comparable to buying into a nursing home?’
‘I know where I’d rather be,’ Martin announced. ‘No pureed food or unidentifiable slops for five o’clock dinner.’
‘The cruise lines are starting to clamp down on it. Too much of a drain on the small medical teams. Did you know the line employs older men to dance with the widows who travel alone? They’re a significant part of the entertainment. We have one widow who’s a regular livewire – she’s eighty-four and can samba with the twenty year olds. The sixty-year-old escorts can’t keep up with her.’
Anya laughed. She could see her own grandmother being like that. She twisted the ring on her right middle finger, which had once belonged to her favoured Nanna.
‘Never underestimate an octogenarian with dancing shoes,’ Martin quipped.
‘That will be me in a few years,’ Karen said, only she was not smiling. ‘Atlanta, Georgia, doesn’t have the same feel I’m afraid. Unfortunately, Carlos’s days on ships are over. And that poor girl from this morning . . . I need to check the blood results after this. With everything that happened this afternoon, I haven’t had a chance.’ She took a bigger sip of the mocktail. ‘You know, some of the crew are saying this cruise is cursed. There’s a rumour that not one, but two albatrosses have flown around the
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