Dead Calm by Shirley Wells Page A

reminded him of a robot he’d had as a kid. The batteries used to die and his robot would stagger around like this lot. A band was playing and they danced just like his robot had. They laughed louder than necessary, kept silly grins plastered to their faces and drank too much. Being on a cruise, even a shit one like this, made them believe they were living the life of the jet set.
    The music was shit too. Any minute now, Vera Lynn would walk on stage and start singing “We’ll Meet Again.” Worse, they’d all link arms and join in.
    The band consisted of two guitarists, a bloke on keyboards and a drummer, none of them under fifty. One of the guitarists thought he was Freddie Mercury and, despite a beer gut hanging over tight trousers, strutted his stuff as he sang the old hits. He was complete shit. He was thrusting his pelvis and leering at any woman who glanced his way, no matter her age. Perhaps he’d get lucky with some unfortunate octogenarian. There were plenty of those on board.
    One man was dancing with his wife. It was easy to tell they were married because he slid his hands down her arse and she swotted him away and scowled at him. No doubt she’d bloody begged him for it before they were married.
    Drink was flowing freely. They’d all be staggering to their beds in the early hours and waking tomorrow with hangovers. Served them right.
    He was only watching. And waiting.
    His time would come. It was just a matter of watching, and waiting for the right moment.
    His phone vibrated in his pocket. He took it out, glanced at the display and hit Reject. Fuck it. He wasn’t taking orders from anyone. Christ, he hadn’t had so much as a sniff of any cash yet.
    He knew what he was doing without people issuing orders every five minutes. When the moment was right, he’d pounce.
    Before then though, he had a little job to do in Dylan Scott’s cabin…

Chapter Seventeen
    This was Bev’s first cruise but she was determined it wouldn’t be her last. She was loving every second of it. As soon as they were back home, she’d investigate cruises around the Med or the Caribbean.
    This evening’s talent show had been a perfect example of how friendly everyone was and how determined they were to have fun. The few children on board had been involved, making it a lively family affair, and now, with the youngsters in bed and a band on stage, people looked set to dance until dawn.
    Bev would have been dancing too, but she didn’t have a partner. All Dylan had to do was put on some smart clothes yet there was no sign of him. Typical.
    Luke had returned to his cabin to listen to some decent music in peace, as he put it, and Vicky was keeping an eye on Freya.
    Bev helped herself to a glass of wine from a passing waiter. Oh yes, this was the life. She couldn’t remember if she’d had two or three glasses, but she made a mental note not to have much more.
    She turned and saw that man again. He was standing apart from the crowd, watching people, and something about him unnerved her. Their gazes collided and a shiver ran down Bev’s spine. He seemed almost to smile before he turned and walked away.
    He was probably harmless. Maybe he was travelling alone and was too shy to start up a conversation with anyone. He was definitely an oddball, but perhaps it wasn’t his fault.
    Talking of oddballs— “Hello, Bill, Maud. Isn’t this lovely? Have you been dancing?”
    “We have, but no more.” Maud laughed. “We’re getting too old for this. It’s wonderful to see everyone enjoying themselves though, isn’t it? Isn’t Vicky with you?”
    “She’s acting as unpaid babysitter.” Bev experienced a twinge of guilt although Vicky never seemed to mind. “There’s no need to worry though because I can’t stay up too late. She’ll come along later.”
    Dylan’s mother could dance the night away. Easily. She never seemed to tire.
    Maud chatted about how much she’d loved to dance as a teenager. It was funny but, when Maud