A Perfect Crime

Chapter 16.

I hated not telling Josie what was troubling me. I knew though, that if I told her who had just boarded the ship, she would have gone ballistic. Ever since I first met her I had always tried to tell her the truth and now I was lying to her as I insisted it must have been something I ate that had caused me to feel ill. I couldn't think straight as I was trying to come up with any ideas as to how I could avoid my ex-wife. My mind was racing as I concentrated on the terrible consequences of Claire discovering I was using a false name and her ever finding out what I was doing on-board the ship, - that damn woman seemed to be holding my whole fucking future in her hands once again...

I protested, probably a little too vehemently, when my wife tried to make me to go to see the ship's nurse and get something to stop me feeling ill. I knew exactly what was wrong, I just couldn't tell her. Josie had always instinctively known when something wasn't right with me, she could read me like a book when I was trying to keep something from her. Consequently, this time she was clearly suspicious about why I was refusing to go to the sick bay. She didn't push it though. Deep down I think she knew I would tell her when I felt the time was right.

Over the next few days I was moody and irritable with almost everyone, not my usual self at all. I was so scared of my ex-wife seeing me that I ended up staying in our cabin as long as possible during the day and only leaving it at night to nervously do my shift behind the bar. The whole time I was working I was as jumpy as a kitten every time the door opened and some new passengers came into the lounge. Josie had never seen me like that before. I had always been cheerful and outgoing with the customers. Now I was quiet and morose, almost to the point of being curt and impatient when I was serving them their drinks. She quizzed me several times about what was wrong, reluctantly choosing to believe me when I told her everything was OK and I was just feeling a little under the weather that's all.

Normally after my shift I would spend an hour in the ship's gym to help me wind down and to keep me fit. Jimmy, the leisure centre manager, had supplied me with a key enabling me to come and go as I pleased whenever the gym was empty of passengers- it always was at 3am. The passengers were all usually tucked up in their cabins by that time, or drunk, or often both. Working out in a sweaty gym was the last thing crossing their booze-befuddled minds after a night of eating and drinking to excess. Those first few days of that fateful cruise I never went near the gym. Instead, immediately after we had cleared up in the bar, I would get to our cabin as quickly as possible, snuggling up to my surprised wife who was not used to me being there so soon after work. Another change in my habits she quietly quizzed me about. We didn't even make love those first few nights either. I just wasn't in the mood as I worried about what might happen to us- again something Josie noticed but thankfully never mentioned.

* * *

Four days into the cruise I had calmed down sufficiently to decide that enough was enough. I had to face my demons sometime. If the bitch recognised me and decided to expose my secret then I would have to face the consequences. If the powers that be then decided I should be sacked, then so be it. I had served my time for something I didn't do and losing my job was just something else that fucking ex-wife of mine would be responsible for. Josie knew almost everything about me anyway and I had to hope that Claire would be satisfied with just telling her who I really was and what I had been convicted of, knowing that if she did, Josie would just laugh at her and it wouldn't be a problem.

I started to go out with Josie during the day as we normally did. Exploring whatever island we were visiting at the time, we would go swimming and snorkelling in the warm sea from the delightful white-sand beaches, (a new hobby we had taken up together a couple of years previously). I loved the feeling of freedom it brought as we swam together. The wonderful sight of my wife, most of the time topless and sometimes even nude, never failed to inspire an overwhelming feeling of well-being in me. Having her holding my hand while swimming by my side as we observed all the spectacularly coloured sea-life of the Caribbean was possibly the most relaxed feeling I had ever experienced.

During the days on-board I would occasionally see Claire around and about. I must admit I was looking out for her, hoping to see her before she saw me. I was lucky on a couple of occasions but fortunately managed to avoid any contact with her at all. She always seemed to be wrapped around her partner whenever I saw them, ignoring anything else around her as she concentrated all her attention on him. I can only assume he must have been extremely well off for her to be that attentive to him- he was nothing like the type of man she had always fancied before. Maybe he had a huge dick? Maybe he was another leading gangster like that fucking Karl bloke? I didn't know, I could only speculate.

I heard all about her though. The ship's grapevine was full of staff complaining about the rude and arrogant couple who had tried to insist on eating at the Captain's table every night and never tipped any of the staff who served them, just demanded almost exclusive attention from whichever member of the crew they decided to bully. "Pretentious twats" was probably the most accurate and damning description of them from one of the crew who had been unfortunate enough to have crossed their paths when they were demanding help with something by the side of the pool one day. Gradually I began to relax a little more as the week went on. Claire and her husband hadn't come into our cocktail bar at all when I was there and it got to the stage where I began to think I may get through the whole three-week cruise without being confronted by the woman I still fucking hated beyond words. Then New Year's Eve happened...

* * *

There had been several huge parties going on around the ship earlier in the evening. A gala dinner in the restaurant; a special show in the theatre; dancing in the ballroom at midnight for the celebrations. All the usual New Year's festivities. Things had started to quieten down a little as most of the passengers made their drunken way to bed just leaving the usual die-hards to carry on drinking. Luckily Josie wasn't singing in the lounge that night- she was happily ensconced in our cabin after we had passionately kissed to welcome the New Year- out of sight of the bar patrons of course.

My wife never hung around in the bar after her set anyway. There would always be some drunken idiot who thought the beautiful singer he had been watching earlier was desperate to drag his flabby body into her bed because he was so damned attractive to women when he was so drunk he could hardly stand up never mind make love to anyone. Instead, she just went back to our cabin and went to bed alone to wait for me. Usually though, she would have dozed off by the time I got there a couple of hours later. She was always tired after her performances earlier, so she had no trouble at all falling asleep on her own.

So it was, after a really busy night keeping all our patrons supplied with their anaesthetic, I was winding down after all the earlier hectic celebrations. I was alone behind the bar by then, having sent the rest of the staff back to their cabins after the lounge had virtually emptied with just a couple of stragglers left at the tables. Just after 2am, I turned to face someone who was irritatingly tapping the bar with a cabin key, ready with a look that would make it clear that was not the best way to attract my attention if they wanted to be served. There she was. My ex-wife. Looking straight at me with an expression of bored superiority- and not a fucking hint of recognition on her face...

The impatient bitch was very drunk, obvious from the way she was slurring her words as she ordered a bottle of our best Champagne to be delivered to her table. I must admit, I was shaken to the core and stammered nervously as I mumbled something about bringing it over to them as the bar was waitress service only. She showed me her cabin key- the rather ambitiously named "Presidential Suite" I noticed- and curtly told me to charge it to the room. That instruction wasn't necessary as there were no cash transactions on board and everything was charged to the passengers' cabins throughout the cruise. I didn't mention that though. I didn't want to talk to her. I tried to just keep my head down and let her get back to her husband before she had any more chances to recognise me.

I could feel myself shaking like a leaf as I prepared their champagne, putting the bottle on ice ready to take it to the table. Shaking with nerves, but also with a deep sense of anger as well as an unexpected feeling of indignation. 10 years together as a couple. A court case where she vindictively lied through her fucking teeth to deliberately try to get me sent down. I hadn't changed that much had I? A little thinner maybe, and certainly a little grey around the temples, but I'd got rid of the goatee by then so I thought I looked much the same as twenty five years before on the last occasion we saw each other. And yet, that horrible cunt of a bitch couldn't even remember the poor ex-husband who's life she had totally fucking destroyed...

* * *

I watched them surreptitiously as they drank a couple of glasses of champagne each, both of them drunkenly laughing as she repeatedly tried to kiss him and grab his crotch. They were embarrassing really. A fat old man with his trophy wife behaving in public like a couple of randy teenagers. Normally I would have politely asked them if perhaps they would be better off in their cabin but I didn't want any more contact with her than was necessary. Thankfully the bar was nearly empty by that time- just a couple of late night stragglers dragging out the festivities- so their childish behaviour wasn't a problem and they wouldn't be upsetting any of our more 'conservative' patrons. Happily for my peace of mind, the bitch and her husband didn't stay long, maybe another half-hour or so, before she dragged her drunken husband to his feet, grabbed the remaining champagne, and staggered out of the lounge.

I breathed a huge sigh of relief as I watched them leave, my heart settling into its natural rhythm for the first time since they had entered the bar. I'd got away with it. I'd been worrying for nothing. Obviously my ex-wife hadn't recognised me and had no idea who I was. I consoled myself with the thought that after a few more days at sea the cruise would be finished and then my worries would be over. She would be gone and out of my life completely and Josie and I could get back to living our ordinary, run-of-the-mill lives. How wrong I was...

The next day I felt like my usual, happy self for the first time since I had seen her boarding the ship. I felt great. I made love to my wife- several times. We lounged around in our cabin most of the day, freely talking and laughing together in-between our bouts of passion. Josie gasped her appreciation that I was finally feeling better as she came for the third or fourth time sometime in the afternoon. I told her I loved her dozens of times, deliriously happy to be 'with' her once again. By the time it came for us to begin work, I was absolutely shagged out, and bloody starving...

* * *

The following night they were back. Relatively sober this time, at least at first, they sat and watched my wife and the band until the end of their set, politely applauding with the rest of the audience after they had done their last song. I felt a little more at ease than the previous night, confident in the knowledge that if I kept out of their way there shouldn't be a problem of Claire recognising me, They consumed another two bottles of the very expensive wine- getting increasingly inebriated in the process, before they left together. Noisily, and excruciatingly off-key, singing the words of Pearl, they linked arms and staggered drunkenly once again, temporarily at least, out of my life.

A short while later I was clearing up their table, putting all the rubbish into the collecting bin as I gathered it from where they had left it. As I picked up the last dirty napkin from where 'the bitch' had been sitting, I noticed what looked like writing on the underside of the neatly folded piece of paper. My heart filled with dread and missed several beats as I read what had obviously been written for my attention by my vindictively tormenting ex-wife.

I KNOW WHO YOU ARE

Chapter 17

I couldn't breathe. My whole life seemed to flash before my eyes as I started to feel faint. I had to sit down in the chair previously occupied by that fucking woman. I just knew, as my eyes welled up with tears, that my whole life with Josie was fucked. That cunt would destroy me. I just knew she would. The vindictive bitch would screw my life up once again...

"My God John. You look terrible. Have I to call Josie?" I dimly heard after I'd slowly walked back behind the bar.

"No...No. I'll be fine. I just feel a little sick that's all. I'll be OK after I've sat down for a bit." I managed to mutter to whoever it was that had asked me if I was OK. My eyes weren't focussing properly so I had no idea which one of the staff had seen the state I was in.

I sat in a daze in the store-room behind the bar, staring at the scribbled note I was holding in my shaking hand. My mind was going crazy in a maelstrom of emotion as I pondered how I could get out of this fucking disaster. The internal phone ringing made me almost jump out of my skin as I sat there, my head in my hands, swaying back and forth and muttering to myself in frustration. I knew instinctively who it was even before I nervously picked up the handset and answered.

Hello Sky Lounge.

Hello John. Long time no see eh?

What do you want Claire? Can't you just leave me alone?

<chuckling> Oh I don't think so John. I need you to do something for me. <more laughter>

What the fuck do you want from me...You...You...Fucking bitch you.

Now, now John. No need to be nasty is there. Come to my cabin in an hour and you'll find out I have something for you to do.<more chuckling>

Fuck off Claire. We're finished. I don't have to listen to your fucking stupid demands any more.

You do if you don't want all the people on board this ship to find out they have a convicted murderer in their midst.

You vindictive cunt!...Can't you just leave me alone?...Haven't you fucked up my life enough? You know I didn't murder him you lying cow.

WE know that John. You and me... Everybody else though...They think you did <chuckling>

How did you turn into such a cunt Claire?... What did I ever do to piss you off so much?

An hour John... Don't be late.

My anger almost boiled over as I slammed the buzzing handset down onto its cradle. The bitch! I fucking knew this was going to happen. Why the fuck did she have to pick our ship? How fucking unlucky could I be?

Slowly I started to calm down as my poor heart began to beat normally. Would she really tell everyone her version of my life-story if I didn't do as she had instructed? I knew the answer to that question without a doubt. Of course she fucking would...

* * *

Just over an hour later at almost 3am on the second of January 1999- my day of destiny as I was to discover- I found myself standing outside the door to the Presidential Suite. The ship's layout meant that that particular cabin was alone at the end of a long corridor with no neighbouring accommodation anywhere near it. It was exclusively private, having a larger than average balcony that looked out to sea at the rear of the ship and was not overlooked at all. Nothing below it apart from the ship's stern and the wash left behind by its huge propellers many feet below. I knew the layout well. Josie and I had had a few sneaky assignations there when the suite was otherwise unoccupied on a cruise, spending many an hour shagging each other on the huge four-poster bed surrounded by opulence we would never have been able to afford normally. Now it was as though all those marvellous memories were about to be destroyed because our wonderful secret love-nest had turned into an evil bitch's fucking lair...

I had deliberated all the time I was clearing up in the bar about whether I should do as that bitch instructed me, regretfully deciding that I didn't have a fucking choice. Maybe I could persuade her to keep her mouth shut for once? Appeal to any semblance of decency she may have left in her nasty, vindictive mind. Deep down though, I knew I was fucked.

I hesitated for a few seconds before eventually tapping lightly on the gold-painted metal door. Surprisingly it moved, swinging inward slightly as it reacted to my knocking. From inside I dimly heard her voice inviting, no, instructing me, to enter.

I slowly walked into the beautifully decorated sitting room to find it empty. The large double doors that led into the bedroom were both wide open giving me a clear view of the bed where Josie and I had spent so many happy times. I could see Claire's husband spread-eagled across one side of it, in his shirt sleeves with his trousers comically bunched around his ankles. His fat gut was over-hanging his huge white boxers as his chest rose and fell rhythmically in time with his loud snoring. In any other circumstances I would have had to laugh at the sight. At that moment though, I just ignored it.

"Out here John."

I looked out onto the balcony to find Claire sat in one of the heavily-padded loungers provided for the usually important occupants of this suite. She had obviously changed her dress after coming back from the bar. Now she was wearing a black silky robe that showed that she was naked underneath. The shadowy shape of her breasts shook as she indicated for me to join her at the table, drawing my attention reluctantly to the beautiful tits I had once worshipped.

"I see you still like my breasts John. You always did didn't you?" she said softly, mocking me as she reached up and cupped those soft orbs I had known so well all those years ago.

"What is it you want Claire?" I asked brusquely, tearing my gaze away from her chest and looking into her eyes.

"Sit down John. We have a lot to talk about." She laughed, pushing a chair toward me with her foot and in the process revealing her naked thigh almost all the way to her groin.

"No we don't, you...bitch. We have nothing to talk about. So I'll ask you again... What the fuck do you want?" I snapped through my clenched teeth.

Laughing out loud, a look of mocking disdain in her eyes, she stood and dropped the filmy robe. Her naked body, illuminated as it was by the light from the bedroom, showed just how much she looked like her mother. The same soft, upturned breasts, sagging just a little against her chest; the same slightly-rounded stomach above her well-padded hips; the same completely hairless mound between her slim thighs displaying just a hint of her womanly lips. Everything almost identical except for one major difference. Me... My cock remained as limp as an old rope in my trousers. The feelings of disgust and hatred I felt toward her completely over-riding any feelings of lust that otherwise may well have taken over my thoughts.