Murder On The Playground by Marc Egnal

Murder On The Playground by Marc Egnal

          Marit Nilson felt she had led a charmed life. She had competed for Norway in the 2008 Olympics, sailing a Laser Radial, a one-person craft, winning a bronze medal. Now at age 42 she was the first woman, among the 18 captains in the Oceans fleet, to command a mega-cruiser, the Oceans Playground. But only one month into her first tour as captain, she feared that the murder reported to her that morning could be her undoing.

          Sahil Chowdhury, the steward responsible for 5 of the 10 luxury suites, discovered the body when he opened the door to 15103 to begin his cleaning. Angela Langsheid was sprawled on the floor. She had been stabbed multiple times.  Sahil rushed to the captain’s quarters where he told Rense Kirkels, the second in command, what had happened.

          Together the three of them, Sahil, Rense, and Marit, surveyed the ghastly scene. Angela’s blouse was blood-stained as was the floor near her. Marit noted from the dark color of the stains, that the killing must have taken place hours ago. Angela’s jewelry, which sat on a counter, was untouched; this was a crime of passion, not a robbery.

          Marit and Rense thanked Sahil, who was visibly upset. They swore him to secrecy and told him to take the rest of the day off. 

          “Next step?” Marit asked Rense when they got back to her quarters. Marit liked the crinkly haired, tall Dutchman, who was an excellent number 2. They had only been paired for the month since she took command, but she knew him from the days when both had served as ensigns.

          “Well, not turn the case over to the Haitian authorities,” he said. The ship had just docked at Labadee, but clearly the murder happened at sea. Labadee was a tourist enclave on the north coast of a country where gangs ran rampant.

          “Agreed,” Marit replied. “As I see it, we have two choices, both equally bad. We can announce there is a homicidal maniac on the loose and trigger the worst publicity Oceans has ever known.”

          “And option two?” Rense asked.

          “We keep quiet about the killing and try to solve the crime before we dock. Of course, if there is a crazed killer on board, and we stay mum, the press and courts will have our heads, and I’ll get thrown in prison. You can visit me.  Which path do you choose?”

           “I have complete faith in my captain,” Rense responded, “and know she’ll make the right decision without any influence from me. And of course I’ll visit you in prison.’

          Marit smiled, despite herself, at Rense’s blatant evasion of responsibility.

          “I choose Plan B,” Marit told Rense, “and I’ll explain to you more fully why I’m certain that’s the right path. But first I’ll call Stavanger and see if they support my decision.” Stavanger was where Oceans’ head office was located.

          Rense had long admired Marit’s competence and quiet confidence, qualities that had propelled her rise. He also valued her daring. After they first met, he read about her approach to competitive sailing. She was known for fearlessly hiking out far from the deck of the Laser and pulling off a series of risky maneuvers.

          Marit’s news and proposal were met with shock at Oceans HQ. They promised to call her back within the hour. When they did, the message was unmistakable. Per Larsen, one of the C-suite officers, told her, “In these situations we rely completely on the judgement of the captain and know you will take full responsibility for your actions and all outcomes.”

Head office, Marit realized, was telling her, “If you mess up, we’ll hang you out to dry and hope your mistakes don’t come back to bite us.”

          Marit related the call to Rense and noted how far out on a limb she now sat.  She also explained why she thought they could solve the case. “I view this murder like the puzzles Agatha Christie loved. Angela’s death resembles a killing in a snowbound manor house where storms have locked in a handful of guests.”

          Both of them were avid mystery fans.  “Go on,” said Rense, intrigued.

          “There was no forced entry,” Marit noted. “So, the culprit must be among the very small group that had a key card.”

          “Or, someone Angela invited into her room,” Rense said, adding, “But if it proves to be more like a James Patterson novel, with a diabolical serial killer, we are geneukt, as we Dutch say.”

           “I met Angela Langsheid at the captain’s reception,” Marit responded, “along with her two angry sons.  We have several prime suspects.”

          Rense too had been at the captain’s reception. “I think she has a gentleman friend,” he observed.  “He’s also staying in one of the suites. They certainly looked like a couple at the reception.”

          “Add him to the list,” said Marit. “In the next hour familiarize yourself with the Langsheids. I read about them before the trip. They’re a remarkable family and have been in the news a lot. Then we’ll meet in my quarters and decide on next steps.”

          Two errands left Marit only twenty minutes to further research the Langsheids and their company Langstaff Enterprises. She visited the bridge where the two navigation officers were preparing for the departure from Labadee. The next day would be a day at sea and then Saturday morning at 7:00 a.m. a return to Fort Lauderdale. If she and Rense were to solve the case, they had very little time – only a day and a half.

          She also went down to the medical centre on Deck 1, where she spoke to Ingrid Aaberg, the presiding doctor, and the only other Norwegian woman among the crew. Marit had lunched with her shortly after taking command, and the two women had a good rapport. Ingrid understood the delicacy of the situation and promised to bring a gurney up immediately, using the private “captain’s elevator.” The body would be kept in the morgue until docking.

          When they got back together, Rence was beside himself.  “O mijn God,” he exclaimed.  “What a family!  They all hate each other.”

          Marit nodded. Rence’s response to the many news stories confirmed everything she knew about the Langshieds.

          “But first,” Rence said, “Sahil Chowdhury. If this is a snow-bound manor house, he’s there front and center. I’ve looked at his personnel records. He’s been with Oceans for ten years, joining after his wife died. His sister, who works in Dubai, looks after his three children along with her own.  He sends her most of his earnings.”  Rence continued, “He has a sterling service record, which earned him the promotion to the suites.”

          “If he’s the killer,” Marit asked, “what’s his motive?” 

`         “Perhaps he resents the rich and has suppressed it up to now. Or perhaps Angela set him off with a harsh comment.”

          Marit seemed unconvinced.  “We won’t rule him out,” she said. “Not yet.”

          She continued.  “I’d like to start by talking to Lester Fortis. From what we saw at the reception he appears to have a special relationship with Angela.”

          Lester came promptly to the captain’s office. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Marit shared the news of Angela’s murder.

          “Oh, no,” he said. His eyes teared up, and he buried his face in in hands. After a very long pause, he looked at Marit and Rence. “Wallace and Corey did this,” he said, referring to the two sons.  “Either separately or together.”

          Marit ignored the bold accusation. “We want to know about your relationship with Angela,” she said.

          “We were more than friends,” he said, “and I hoped we would be life partners. She had lost her husband some years ago and my wife recently died. I believed we had found each other. But it was tricky.  I’m the chief financial officer at Langstaff Enterprises, and a relationship like ours was against corporate policies. So, I planned to resign. We took this cruise to make certain that was the right decision.”

          “And was it?” Rence asked.

          “She decided it wouldn’t work,” said Lester, “and that broke my heart. She has two obsessions:  the company and her sons.  That didn’t leave much room for me.”         

          “You were broken hearted,” said Marit. “But were you also extremely angry?”

          “I know where you’re going with that question,” Lester replied.  “No, just very sad.” 

          “I’m sorry about your loss,” Rence said. “Please tell us about the sons.”

          “Angela wanted this trip to be the start of her reconciliation with them.  But I told her that hope was foolish.  The divisions are too deep. All they’ve done since coming on board is argue more.”

          Lester continued: “She gave each one a managerial role in the company.  But neither one has been very good at their jobs, and they resent her for trying to steer their lives. Wallace turned to gambling, everything from sports betting to Vegas. He’s lost a lot of money, and Angela has had to bail him out — payments that only deepened the anger on both sides.”

          “And Corey?” Marit asked.

          “That’s an entirely different conflict,” Lester said. “He’s a purist and views Langstaff Enterprises as evil. We closed our last US factory in 2000, and now we manufacture our clothing abroad, mostly in southeast Asia. It’s true the conditions in some of the factories are not great, but we’re one of the good guys. We insist our contractors follow all regulations and we conduct regular plant inspections. Angela was well named. She’s been an angel of mercy. Even when Franz Langsheid was running the company she visited each of our facilities, talked to families when there were problems, and made restitution for injuries. And those were large sums.  I know because I signed the checks.”

          Marit and Rence listened quietly to this defense.

          “And one more thing,” Lester concluded. “If Wallace and Corey think they’ll inherit the company, they’re mistaken. They’ll receive a generous financial settlement, but Angela arranged for management to be kept out of their hands.”

          The phone had rung in the midst of Lester’s remarks. Marit answered promptly – few people had her number — and promised to call back in a few minutes. After Lester left, she did.

          “That was guest services,” she explained to Rence.  “The two brothers have been raising a ruckus and demanding to see the captain. I told the officer in charge to accompany them to my office.”

          A few minutes later Wallace and Corey burst into the captain’s quarters. Both men were dark-haired, handsome in their own way. Wallace was taller, more physically imposing, and far angrier.

          “What the hell is going on?” he exclaimed.  “About an hour ago I tried my mother on her cell phone – no answer.   I also called her room phone – again no response. Then Corey and I went into her suite, and discovered she was missing – “

          Marit and Rence exchanged a glance. “How did you get into that suite?” Marit asked.

          “I happen to have a room pass,” Wallace replied.  “It’s a long story and it’s not important. What is important is that our mother, Angela Langsheid, is missing. And doesn’t housekeeping exist in the suites? Her bedroom was a mess, with her bedspread still on the floor.”

          Corey said nothing during this outburst, only now adding, “Yes, we want to know where our mother is.”

          “Okay, both of you please sit down,” Marit said.  “And I’ll share with you our understanding of what happened.”

          The two brothers took chairs. Wallace continued to breathe heavily, with his fists were balled in anger.

          “I’m very sorry to tell you,” Marit said, “that your mother has been murdered.”

          “What kind of ship is this?” Wallace responded.  “I warned my mother about booking this trip with Oceans. Who did it?”  He punctuated his statements with several f-bombs.

          “We’re almost certain we’ve figured out what happened, and I’m sure we will know by the time we dock at Fort Lauderdale Saturday morning,” Marit said.

          That was an outrageous fabrication. Rence caught his breath, and then nodded in support. He guessed that Marit was playing for time and trying to calm the brothers. But it was an audacious, risky gambit.

          “I also want you to maintain total silence about this one, until we land.  No calls, no discussions with anyone. If word spreads, it risks ruining the case we’re building. Not uttering a word is tremendously important.  Do you understand that?”   

          They both nodded.

          “Next, I’d like to interview you both – separately. I have some questions that are very important for the investigation.  Wallace, you’re first.  Corey, please wait in the outer office.”

          After Corey left, Rence asked Wallace, “How do you have a sea pass for your mother’s room?”

          “Nothing to see there,” he said. He was still seething. “On the second day of the cruise, Angela’s card stopped working.  She hates standing in lines, so she asked me to get her another one.  She gave her approval by phone. You can check all that. The first one I got also didn’t work.  Blame it on the incompetence of the people in your guest services. So, they made me a second one. But I didn’t want to throw the bad first card in the trash. So, I kept it – and remarkably enough, when we had to get into her room, it opened the door.”

          “That is remarkable,” said Rence.

          Marit asked, “Where were you last night?”

          “What, am I a suspect?” Wallace shot back. “I thought you said you had this case solved.”

          “Almost solved,” said Marit.  “No one would respect our investigation if we didn’t talk to all the concerned parties.”

          “Well, my wife will vouch for me,” Wallace said, but without great conviction. Then he added, “Okay, I was at the casino much of the night. I played blackjack and then the slots. You must have a video record of my being there.”

          “Not really,” said Marit, “We respect guests’ privacy.”  The ship, Marit knew, had few CCTV cameras. Two hovered above the table games, picking up a couple of the nearby slots. Most of the casino and the Playground had little monitoring.

          “No, no, no,” said Wallace, looking at Marit and Rence. “You’re not thinking I had anything to do with the murder. You come after me, and my lawyers will sink this cruise line. It’s true I’ve said some pretty harsh things about my mother.  But I was provoked by reporters, and I’ve apologized for most of those statements. Anyhow, I believe in Langstaff Enterprises in a way that Corey never will.”

           They thanked him and invited Corey in.

          Corey seemed oddly subdued, Marit thought, for someone who had just lost his mother. She began by asking him where he had been last night.

          “I watched a basketball game on ESPN,” he said.  “The Hornets were playing.”

          “Who won?” Rence asked.

          “I fell asleep before the game ended. I guess it was the Hornets.  I checked the score this morning.”

          “Why didn’t you bring your family on this trip?”  Rence asked.  Marit wondered where her number 2 was going with the question, but it proved a fruitful line of enquiry. Corey was married with two daughters, 8 and 10.

          “Why would they want to come?  This was a command performance from boss lady. We drove down from Charlotte, and I dropped them off at the Magic Kingdom so they could enjoy themselves.  I continued to Fort Lauderdale.”

          “Sounds like there is tension between you and your mother,” Marit stated.

          “I’m sure you’ve seen my statements in the papers,” Corey responded. “My first job at Langstaff Enterprises was in public relations, but I couldn’t stand shilling for the company. So, I got moved to finance.  I’m not sure what I do, but I’m paid an outrageous salary for my work.”

          “That’s a problem a lot of people would like to have,” Rence commented.

          “Perhaps so,” said Corey.  “But I hate myself for not quitting and I hate my mother for putting me in that position.”

          Marit and Rence glanced at each other.

          “Don’t worry,” Corey said, “I don’t have the courage to commit any act of violence.”

          Marit thanked him for the interview. She told Rence they would discuss everything the next morning. Both had to get ready for a dinner with the senior members of the crew. It was a custom on Ocean vessels the penultimate night of cruises. There were ten around the table, including Ingrid Aaberg, the chief medical officer, whom Marit had invited to join them.  The three at the dinner who knew what happened that morning did not breathe a word about the event.

          At 10:30 the next morning, Marit and Rence received news about the second murder.

          The captain and her number 2 had just started their deliberations. Marit had hoped to begin the discussion earlier, but she had to spend time on the bridge. Normally, the Caribbean is calm in December. But this was 2024 and the end of a season that had spawned horrific hurricanes.  The direct route back to Florida, some 670 nautical miles, passed through unacceptably rough seas.  Marit and her navigation officers studied alterative paths and settled on a significant deviation to the west. The 7:00 a.m. arrival in Port Everglades, the Fort Lauderdale harbor, was nonnegotiable.

          When she got back to her quarters, well after 10, Rence was eager to share his thoughts. “One or both of the brothers,” he said. “They have the motives and the means.”

          There was a knock on the door.  The events that now unfolded bore an uncanny resemblance to the announcement the previous morning. Krishna Rajagopal was the other steward for the suites; he and Sahil each handled five of the high-end residences. Krishna led them to room 15108.  There, lying on the bed, and brutally and fatally stabbed, was Lester Fortis. 

Marit and Rence looked at each other.  “Sahil,” they said, almost in unison.  The steward had not shown up for work that morning.

          Marit asked Krishna. “Is it possible that Sahil had a sea pass for 15108?”

          “That would surprise me,” Krishna responded, “but it is not impossible. We sometimes help each other after a particular suite has hosted a big party.  But if one of us borrows a pass, it’s always returned.”

          When they got back to the captain’s quarters, Marit said to Rence.  “We now have only one suspect. Let’s see if we can figure out why Sahil did it. I have a hunch.” They opened their computers, Rence to the ship’s personnel files and Marit to the back issues of the Singapore Strait Times.

          “Where, when, and why did Sahil’s wife die?” Marit asked.

          “April 2013 in Dhaka, Bangladesh. The notes in Sahil’s file don’t give a cause,” Rence replied.

          “That’s the date of the Rana Plaza building collapse,” Marit said.  “It was an eight-story building that housed five garment factories,” she added, summarizing the coverage in the Strait Times. “Over 1100 were confirmed dead, and more than 2500 injured. Langstaff Enterprises operated a factory that occupied two floors.’”

          “I’m beginning to connect the dots,” said Rence.

          Marit found an article three weeks later. “Sure enough,” she said, “Angela Langsheid came to Dhaka, met with survivors, and handed out checks. Sahil must have encountered her.”

          “I’m sorry I missed that connection,” Rence said, “when I checked up on Sahil yesterday.”

          “How could you have guessed?” Marit assured him. “The thought didn’t occur to me until Lester said Angela visited plants and the scene of disasters. We also had to check out the sons.”

          The Playground had no police officers. Instead, a few of the midshipmen served as an impromptu security force. Marit knew one of them well, a burly Swede, with the appropriate name of Thor Gunderson. She sent Thor and a companion to Sahil’s cabin to bring him to the captain’s quarters.

          Sahil was in tears, but not remorseful. “I would do it again,” he said. “Angela told us she was sorry for our loss and gave each of the surviving spouses a $5000 check. Five thousand dollars for the woman I loved and the mother of my children. Lester Fortis signed that check.  I never thought I would see her again or meet him, and then I did.”

          Marit called the head office in Stavanger and reported that the case was solved and none of the passengers disturbed. She received a very muted thanks.

          Rence reassured her she would come out okay.  “They won’t go after their only woman captain and an Olympic hero to boot,” he said.

          “I’m happy it’s wrapped up,” she said.  “Still, it’s too much sadness and anger for me.” She went back to the bridge to check on the Playground’s course.

* * * * THE END * * * *
Copyright Marc Egnal 2025