It was a gusher.
So amid much fanfare and confusion, Victor had been whisked off on a gurney, loaded into an ambulance, and driven off with sirens blaring.
“He was wearing his favorite dinner jacket,” Jackie reflected as she peered out the wraparound windows at the ship’s bow, staring mindlessly at the city bridge that loomed above our mooring place.
In a half-baked effort to put a positive spin on an absolutely dreadful evening, we had decided to meet in the lounge for a well-deserved cocktail after the police interviews ended.
“Of course, the jacket is totally ruined now. Feel free to quote me on this, Emily. Technology will never be advanced enough to develop an oxygen-boosting stain treatment capable of removing that much blood from natural fiber clothing.”
I sighed. “Victor’s dinner jacket is the least of his problems.”
We didn’t have a clue which passengers aboard the Renoir had been grilled by the criminal investigation unit, but all the interviewees must have been cleared, because when the police paraded down the gangway, they didn’t have any suspects in tow. I’d been granted access to one of the attending officers on-the-fly, so in a quick three-minute meeting, I expressed my fear about a male guest who’d been transported to the hospital with a nosebleed that was eerily reminiscent of the one Krystal Cake had suffered prior to her death.
“Doctors at both local hospitals are very competent, madame,” he’d assured me.
“Yeah, but, could his nosebleed be an indication that someone slipped him the same substance that caused Krystal’s brain hemorrhage? Could whoever killed her be trying to kill him, too?”
“Did you inform the emergency medical unit of your concerns?”
“We tried, but there was a lot of commotion in the dining room and everyone ended up talking at the same time, so I’m not sure they heard us. They were mostly interested in clearing the area and treating the patient.”
“Did anyone accompany the gentleman to the hospital?”
“His wife.”
“She’ll be questioned by the admissions staff at the hospital. If she tells them of your concerns, I promise you, they will be addressed.”
“Okay, that’s good to know. I just wanted you to be current with all the details.”
“I appreciate your stepping forward, Mrs. Miceli. Perhaps you would be kind enough to give me the gentleman’s name? For future reference if needed.”
He wrote down the information I gave him, frowning slightly as he turned to another page in his memo pad. “Ah, yes. Victor Martin. I recognize the name. We were applauding the fact that a man afflicted with so many health problems had the courage to venture so far from home.”
“How do you know about his health problems?”
“Are you familiar with the term: medical history form? A most helpful tool. But given Mr. Martin’s age, I will tell you I am not surprised that he was rushed to hospital with acute nasal problems. For many elderly who are oxygen-dependent, it is not an uncommon occurrence.”
I stirred my Bloody Mary, trying to regain my balance after having my legs knocked out from under me. “That police officer must have thought I was just another hysterical tourist with an addiction to American TV programs beginning with the letters CSI. But I swear, I never even thought about the possibility that Victor’s nosebleed might have been caused by his nasal apparatus.”
“If that nosebleed was caused by nasal apparatus, someone needs to redesign the apparatus. His event was exactly like Krystal’s, minus the whining. Trust me, our killers have struck again.”