‘The banjer steps.’ She made a note of it. ‘OK, imagine now that instead of being on the helm, you’re on the forrard deck looking aft. Try and think about who you can see on the deck.’
I tried it. ‘Me, on the wheel – no.’ I visualised again. ‘It’s hard, I’m not used to being forrard. I don’t think I’d see me, because I was behind the nav shack. Captain Gunnar was in front of it. Nils came up to the rail and went down again. There were all the trainees, and Erik went up on the foredeck with them. Mona was by the port steps to the foredeck, the Greek boys were leaning a bit too far over, and she drew them back. Petter …’ I tried to think where he’d been, but drew a blank. He’d been on deck. ‘Maybe he was forrard, behind the front of the banjer, where I wouldn’t see him. Oh, Henrik came out from the galley to look over the starboard side. He watched for a little while, not as long as they were with us, then went down to the banjer. None of the trainees were up on the boat deck, but one of Agnetha’s ABs was, and Rolf, with his camera. And Jenn was on deck among the trainees. She came out, oh, not long after the call. She was taking photos too.’
‘Could you draw me a map of them?’ She passed me a piece of paper. It took a while, but as I drew the faces came back. I labelled each X as best I could, and passed it back to her. She scanned it, nodded, then returned to the questions.
‘Go back to that shout of “Dolphins!” What did you hear after that?’
I closed my eyes and tried to listen. ‘All the trainees repeated it, and there was a scuffle as everyone went for their phones. Ellen went “Oh!” in an excited voice, and that’s when I asked Captain Gunnar if I could let them go and look. There were oohs and aahs from forrard, and the trainees saying, “Did you see that?” to each other, and that winding electronic noise as they took photographs. Then … the steps of Mike and the other man – the other man was uneven-sounding, that’s why I thought he was clumsy. Then I just got caught up listening to the waves, and the chug of the engine, and the flag fluttering, and the wind on my cheek.’ I paused for breath, feeling as if I’d been wrung out, like a dish-cloot. I was surprised I’d remembered so much.
‘You’re doing really well, Ms Lynch.
I gave her a rueful grin. ‘I think that’s it, though.’
‘Just to finish off. How long did the dolphins stay with the ship?’
‘Oh, five, maybe seven, minutes. Not very long – well, long in terms of letting everyone see them, but sometimes they stay and play for ages.’
‘Could you see them from where you were?’
‘Not really. A fin or white gleam when they came further out from the ship’s side. The action was immediately under the bow, that’s why I sent Ellen and Ismail forrard.’
‘How did you know when they were gone?’
‘Oh, I could see that – the trainees looking down and around, and gradually breaking away from the rail, and comparing photos.’
‘And were Callaghan and the other person still behind you then?’
I shook my head. ‘I suppose so, because they hadn’t gone past me. Then I gave Ellen back the helm, and went forrard to the rail again.’
‘Who did you think the other person was?’
‘I didn’t think about it. I just took it to be a trainee.’
‘Why would he be taking a trainee aft like that?’
‘I really didn’t think about it.’ I spread my hands and leant forward, trying to explain. ‘Mike was my superior officer. Whoever it was, he was responsible for them, so they weren’t my problem. If it had been a trainee going back on their own, I’d have noticed.’
She scribbled something in her regulation notebook. Her eyes flicked at Gavin, and returned to me. ‘Several people on deck also saw Callaghan going upstairs with the person in red, but nobody saw either of them come back down.’
I felt the pit of my stomach judder. Then I had been the last person to see them. I considered the implications of that in silence. If someone had taken the cover of the dolphins to kill Mike, it had been done behind me, while I was on the wheel.
She gave me a moment to absorb that. ‘Now, about the disposal of the body.’ Her voice was as calm as if she was talking about putting a black bag out. I braced myself. I knew it wasn’t going to sound good. ‘Which side of the helm were you standing on?’
‘Starboard.’ I didn’t need to think; I could feel the helm under my hands, and the wind in my hair.
‘Starboard. The right-hand side.’ Her voice was casual. ‘The side the body was found on.’
‘Yes.’
Her eyes flicked across at Gavin, and back to me. ‘Ms Lynch. Are you asking us to believe that someone lifted the lid not a half metre behind you, put a body in the box and closed the lid again without you hearing them? Right behind your back, so close they could have reached out and touched you?’
I could hardly believe it myself. ‘It must have taken some nerve,’ I agreed. ‘But he really was right behind my back, so I couldn’t have looked without turning my head right round. If he’d put Mike in the other side, I’d have been more likely to see.’
‘One squeak of the hinge and you’d have turned round to see what was going on.’
I was beginning to get rattled. ‘There are no squeaking hinges aboard this ship,’ I retorted. The flash of satisfaction in her eyes warned me. I leant back in my chair, and had another shot at explaining what felt so obvious. ‘It was Mike behind me. My superior officer, showing something to a trainee. I was helming, looking forward. That was my business, and what he was doing wasn’t. If I’d heard the lid, and I don’t think I did, I still wouldn’t have turned around to stare.’
‘Why dispose of the body so elaborately? Why not just kill him and drop him overboard?’
I’d had a chance to think about that one. ‘I wondered if it might be because I’d have spun round straight away at that.’ Mike falling from the aft deck, the highest point of the ship, would have made an unmistakeable ‘man-overboard’ splash. ‘That would have cornered the man who’d just thrown him over.’
She nodded and said, almost casually, ‘You’re making it sound like a crew member who knows the ways of the ship.’
I hadn’t thought of that. My mouth fell open. I raised startled eyes to her face, as calm as if she was asking about the weather. ‘You think it might not have been Bezrukov?’
‘We’re considering all possibilities,’ she said smoothly. ‘So?’
I tried to think. Certainly all the crew had some kind of foul-weather gear, and several of them had a scarlet sailing jacket, scarlet being the most visible of the colours on offer. Charcoal grey was all very trendy, but if you fell into the sea, you didn’t want to be camouflaged against the hungry waves. ‘We only wear our oilskins at night, or in poor weather, but often enough that I think I’d have recognised the person in it. I’d have thought, even subconsciously, “Oh, that’s Mike and whoever going to confer aft.”’
‘How about the hat? Faded navy, you said, with a brim and ear flaps.’
‘Fleece. I have one. They’re pretty popular; there are several on board.’
‘Belonging to trainees or crew?’
‘Both.’ I frowned. ‘Again, you know, I think I’d have recognised him if it was someone who habitually wore that hat, especially teamed with its usual jacket. Looking along the length of the ship, you get used to knowing people by their general shape and profile, and the hat’s part of that.’
‘You keep saying “he” and “him”,’ Sergeant Peterson observed. ‘Can you tease out the reason for that?’
I thought about it, and couldn’t. ‘I can’t pinpoint anything. I suppose I was assuming it was Bezrukov.’
Her gaze sharpened. ‘You didn’t think it was Bezrukov at the time.’
‘No,’ I agreed. Time to remain silent. I stole a look at Gavin, grave and quiet in his corner, and wasn’t reassured. A fellow crew member … I looked across at the plan I’d drawn, and saw the people I knew couldn’t have killed Mike: not Erik, Petter or M
ona, not Rolf or Agnetha’s AB, not Jenn. They’d all been in my sight. Henrik had come out and gone back in, and Nils had returned downstairs before Mike and the other man had come up. Nils, Mike’s brother-in-law.
She nodded, then lifted her head up again. Her green eyes were boring straight into me. ‘Are there any crew members who might have a grudge against Callaghan?’
Nils. Agnetha. My expression must have changed, for Sergeant Peterson’s whole face sharpened. She leant forward. ‘Yes, Ms Lynch?’
I shook my head. Nils had a scarlet jacket. He’d had time to realise I was alone on the helm, go down the nav-shack steps, get it from his cabin, and come out to draw Mike away from the others. Agnetha’s overalls were white, with a navy and yellow flash, and her rarely worn hat was a yellow toorie-cap; I wouldn’t have expected to see her in scarlet. The height had been about right, and she could easily have crossed the deck, picked up a jacket at random from the rail and gone over to Mike. Her voice echoed in my brain: I won’t have it … Do that, and I’ll go to the captain … You’ll never work on a tall ship again … I could hear Mike’s rejoinder: Nor will you.
It wouldn’t have taken her five seconds from that first shout of Delfiner! to know what I would do. She’d seen the face Gavin had shown me on the phone, the woman so absorbed in her ship that she’d see nothing behind her. She knew the name ‘captain’s coffin’ as Bezrukov didn’t …
‘Ms Lynch?’ Now there was a hard note in Sergeant Peterson’s voice, like a keel scraping on rock. ‘I can see you’ve thought of something.’
Agnetha was my friend. I wasn’t going to believe she’d killed the father of her child without much better evidence than this, and I did know that one word from me now would blast the career she’d worked so hard to build. I wasn’t going to say anything. There was no point in lying. I looked Sergeant Peterson straight in the eye. ‘Nothing that I’m prepared to tell you.’ I took a breath and went on. ‘Mike was very well thought of on board the ship. He had all the skills needed for his position, and was particularly good with the trainees.’
For a moment we stared at each other, chins up, like Cat meeting another cat on the pontoon. If we’d had tails, they’d have been lashing.
‘I’ll put down that you do know of some disagreement, but are not prepared to tell me about it.’ I watched her scribble it down, and thought that was the end of it, when she flung at me, pencil still moving, ‘Was that disagreement with you?’
My ‘no’ was out before I had time to think. Her pencil added ‘with another person’ and dotted the full stop with precision. She raised her head.
‘You’re putting yourself in danger, Ms Lynch, if the person who disagreed with Callaghan knows you know.’
I wasn’t going to be tricked twice. The ‘she doesn’t’ Sergeant Peterson was hoping for stayed firmly behind my closed lips. There was a mutually hostile pause. I contemplated the portrait of Queen Sonja, and waited. I could do silence as long as she liked.
It was she who spoke first. ‘Do you carry a knife aboard, Ms Lynch?’
I raised my eyes to her face again, computing this. If Mike had been killed, silently, behind me … I nodded, and fished out my Swiss Army knife on its lanyard. It lived in my pocket, but the cord attached it to my belt so that it wouldn’t fall from a height onto someone, if I was aloft. Basic ship precautions. I unclipped it and laid it on the table. ‘We all have a knife.’
She turned it over, opened the blade, closed it again. ‘This doesn’t lock. What do you need a knife for?’
‘Neatening off rope. Twisting awkward screws and shackles, or undoing seized knots. Anything your fingers can’t quite manage.’
‘And would they all be of this type?’
I tried to think what I’d seen other people carrying. Several of the Norwegians had businesslike clasp knives that would probably be illegal in Britain, and there were various multi-tool gadgets going around. ‘A variety, I’d say.’
Anders’ knife had a ring that went around the neck to hold the blade open, and most of the Norwegian ones looked similar to his: a businesslike wooden handle, with the blade folded inside. The younger crew members preferred a multi-tool.
‘May I take this?’
I made a Go ahead gesture that covered the feeling that I was an officer surrendering my sword. Handling it by her fingertips, she dropped it into an evidence bag and labelled it.
That she was asking about knives answered the question I hadn’t asked: how Mike had died.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Sergeant Peterson dismissed me then. I left her and Gavin to it, and headed for my own cabin, then, on a thought, turned towards the open door of the hospital cabin. There was one officer I hadn’t seen at all last night: Sadie, the ship’s medical officer. She had her own cabin, but normally you’d find her in here, where she kept all her medicine stocks and medical files. I knocked on the door jamb and went in.
The hospital was a slightly larger cabin than mine, with bunk berths instead of my berth and settee arrangement, so that Sadie could stay with a patient overnight if need be. Gavin’s backpack lay on the lower bunk. Sadie was at her desk, writing in one of her ledgers. She lifted her head as I came in and automatically put a piece of paper over the page. ‘Seasickness. The swell’s getting to several of them.’
I was relieved to see her face friendly and welcoming as ever. Maybe my own self-consciousness had exaggerated Nils’s edgy suspicion, and Rolf’s awkwardness. She was in her mid forties, the same age as Mike had been, softly spoken, with a striking face that suggested Native American ancestry: high cheekbones and huge, dark eyes in beautifully moulded sockets. Her brows were as dark as her eyes, and her hair a surprising dark copper, long and straight. She’d been bitten by the sailing bug young – she’d grown up in Rochester, on Lake Ontario, and had spent her youth messing about in dinghies. She’d trained and worked as a nurse, but had grabbed this post when she heard of it.
‘How’s Samir doing?’ I wanted my rig star back for the race, and anyone on medication had to stay at deck level.
‘He’s fine now. How about you?’
‘Me? Fit as a fiddle,’ I answered before I remembered it wasn’t quite true; but then, I supposed, I was doing fine for someone in the early stages of pregnancy.
She gave me a sharp-eyed glance, but didn’t pursue it. She wasn’t looking too well herself, with her smooth skin pale under the tan and dark circles under her eyes. Her hands smoothed the paper over her writing mechanically, as if it was a cat she was persuading to lie still.
‘I was just wondering if you fancied a cup of tea. I’m making.’
‘Amazing.’
‘Milk, no sugar, right?’
‘Right.’
I whisked back into the corridor. Two minutes later, and I was back in the hospital with two mugs of tea and a handful of biscuits. I hoped the ginger nuts weren’t too big a giveaway. Her medical training, I consoled myself, was aimed at injuries and surgical emergencies, like an appendix; pregnancy would be low down on the list of shipboard worries.
Sadie’d had time to put the file back and lock the cupboard. She motioned me to the other chair, and leant back. ‘So, what’s all doing up on deck?’
‘A stiff breeze. Sunshine. Skye on one side, and the Outer Hebrides on the other.’ I was going to continue that I was wondering how she was doing, when I realised that it would look like a request for information. A ringside seat on the action; trying to make things more exciting. Captain Gunnar’s words still burnt. I thrust the thought away. ‘The trainees are all livening up: sunshine now, and Belfast tomorrow.’
‘Apart from the ones that are feeling sick.’
‘All the others on our watch looked fine.’ I tried to think. ‘I didn’t see anyone being peelie-wally or uninterested.’
‘Oh, sure, your guys are great. There are a couple on red watch, one of the African girls, and the tall Irishman.’ She seemed suddenly to notice the names. ‘Hey, Sean Lynch, he’s not related to yo
u?’
‘My cousin,’ I said, adding precisely, Shetland fashion, ‘me dad’s brother’s son.’ If there was one thing I was certain of, it was that Sean had never been seasick in his life. ‘Was he feeling queasy?’
‘More like some kinda stomach bug, I’d say. I gave him soda bicarb and told him to come back if he didn’t feel good in an hour.’
Worse and worse. The Lynch family was known for its cast-iron stomachs. Elmer’s cooking might not be hugely exciting, but there was nothing about it to upset any Lynch interior. I wondered what Sean was up to. Checking out where the medicines were? Wanting a night alone with the files? Or finding out where Gavin was sleeping, so that he could keep an eye on him?
‘It’s awful about Mike,’ Sadie said suddenly. ‘I had to go down and look.’ Her face was bleak. ‘Officially declare him dead. Take photographs for the inspector.’ She glanced up at me, then turned her eyes down to the tea slanting in her mug. You got used to everything being on a slant on board ship, until liquid reminded you what horizontal was. ‘We went back a long way, Mike and I.’
‘I didn’t know that.’
‘Oh, yes. We were both on Ernestina, back in the nineties.’ Her reminiscent smile suggested they’d been more than friends.
My breathing juddered and started again. ‘The fishing schooner from Massachusetts?’
‘That’s the one. Effie M Morrissey, that was her real name.’ Her face was soft with memory. ‘Only forty-six metres long, but she spent twenty years in the Arctic, cruising Greenland. Now she does educational cruises up and down the New England coast. Mike and I signed up after her big restoration in 1994.’
I did a quick bit of arithmetic, and reckoned that must have been once she’d finished her training. ‘As the MO?’
‘No, no, as paying trainees that time, then we came back as ABs. We were on her, oh, several summers, with Mike rising through the ranks each time.’ Her face was warm with the memory. ‘We kept in touch between summers.’ She smiled, and kept talking, as if it was doing her good. ‘Well, we were “an item”, I suppose you’d say.’ Her eyes lifted to mine. ‘You know what it’s like, when you’re shipmates.’
Death in Shetland Waters Page 18