Death Wish

DEATH WISH BY TOM COPPARD

A Klaus Hoffman Mystery...

CONTENTS
Chapter 1.     1.
Chapter 2.    7.
Chapter 3.    19.
Chapter 4.     46.
Chapter 5.    74.
Chapter 6. 110.
Chapter 7.    151.
Chapter 8.    164.
Chapter 9.     180.
Chapter 10.     192.
Chapter 11.     201
Chapter 12.     215
Chapter 13.     220
Chapter 14.     229
AFTERWORD. 231

'The sleeping and the dead are but as pictures.'
Lady Macbeth, Act II Scene II.

1: Arriving at Greece.

Captain Lucius Steele prepared to leave the Yorkshire office, he sighed strongly, prompting a slight condensation to form inside the window he was glancing over.
He had almost no hair, the small strands of remaining hair were an ominous shade of black. Steele's sky-blue military uniform was bolstered upwards by his corpulent frame and bulky greasy chest. He staggered as he walked out the village post office and was suddenly (and viciously) assaulted by a vast and striking wave of the typical English chill.
With a heavy heart, he then prepared for his voyage and excursion to Greece...

II

Sometime later, Capt. Steele found himself aboard the S.S Zartan, a lavish, enigmatic, and labyrinthine cruise travelling all around Europe. The sea was choppy that night; the waves' motion was shoddy and was dashed upwards, causing the ship to shake ruthlessly – almost as if it was in the midst of a cataclysmic earthquake.
Steele strolled onto the main deck. The main deck was nothing to write about: it was simple in its appearance—steel handrails were a universal thing on the great ship.
The drenched floor which only now comprised of salts and seawater, was materialled from solid black oak; and this made the uneven and slippery surface gruelling to converse.
A passenger was bent over the rail, his head leaned overboard. Steele noticed but he thought the young man of twenty was ok. For, there was nothing but dry heaving escaping him. The young male passenger's sweaty black hair hung over his bloodshot, icy blue eyelids.
His thin, untidy ebony black blazer also bore a shoddily fastened tie and an unbuttoned white dress shirt.
"I say," said Steele compassionately. "Are you ok?"
The young passenger with the black hair and horrible emerald face responded: "Yes, the sea is a little choppy, that's all."
Steele nodded and walked away. That morning after, the Zartan had found itself in Greece—on a harbour that was almost a habitat for the rambunctious flock of seagulls with sardines draping over their small and nimble beaks, the fish was bent backwards and could not make any protest as the seagull sored away; A small gust of water washed over the side of the platform that was laden with bits of sand.

III

Zoe Metcalfe, a perfervid young American, ambled down the dock, smiling with her big mouth gaping open; The white linen dress, accompanied with black, squared sunglasses, and of course, a ubiquitous, brilliant white hat, reminiscent of the white Greek villas surrounding, danced along her shoulders through a tropical breeze. Zoe's pace quickened, alarming the distant Lucius Steele.
"Lucy!" she exclaimed flamboyantly.
The girl hugged him hard and the air in the captain's lungs almost felt as if they were evacuating for an emergency. After some uncomfortable seconds, Metcalfe ceased her affectionate grab.
"Come, come!" Metcalfe pleaded.
"Lydia is up at the hotel, I'm assuming?"
"Yes! Yes!"
Inside Santorini's 'Noble Heirloom' Hotel, the two friends gathered at the site of a beautiful young woman. Lydia Penrose was sat at a circular white sheeted table; Lydia Penrose was a thin New Yorker; she wore a navy-blue sleeveless dress, partnered with a slightly exaggerated navy-blue sunhat that was mixed in with white stripes for decoration. Penrose was imbibing a large glass of blood-red wine, and after consumption, she smeared the equally red lipstick onto her pouting, inviting lips.
Then, with her fragile looking fingers, she interfered with the vexatious, curly knots in the coarse strawberry blonde hair that tumbled down to her broad and nubile shoulders.
Penrose jerked her head, her glamourous hair shivering slightly as she moved at noticing Lucius Steele and Zoe Metcalfe. The lighting of the room highlighted the tantalising porcelain looking skin of hers.
Zoe approached her friend with a flamboyant gait.
"Lydie!"
"Zoe!"
The acquaintances' bodies held close, lightly, and then, after some seconds, the hug stopped.
"Lydia," said Zoe, gesturing towards the distant captain in an enlivened state. "I am sure you remember Lucius."
Lydia's charming face brought on a fond, and alluring smirk. Now, Lydia Penrose's somewhat risible hat departed gently from her petite, ladylike head and onto the bright white cloth table behind her.
"Yes," said the young woman with her loving, green, and majestic eyes wide open in an inscrutable gaze, followed with another doting grin.
"How could I forget?"
"Oh, Lydie, how are you enjoying Greece?"
"Enough—it's nice," spoke the young woman in her soft, husky voice.
Zoe beamed.
"The beaches are lovely," she continued.
"The breakfast here is..." Penrose stopped, whispered, "Hit & miss,"
Lucius agreed, "Well, one can see that, can't one?"
Lydia Penrose inhaled gently, and asked amiably, "Well, can I invite you two for a drink?"
Steele's eyes met hers. "Of course, Lydia,"
With the greetings and welcoming out of the equation, the familial trio took their seats and relaxed in each other's company...