by Mark McCrum
She was watching him in quiet amazement. ‘Are all you English guys like this? You know what, Francis. I’d love a drink later. Or dinner. If you can fit me in to your busy schedule. Maybe I can suck you off under the table while you savour your freakin’ blackcurrant sorbet.’
He turned and headed for the cabin door. If he didn’t go now, that would be it.
‘Don’t I get a little thank you for my useful info?’ she called.
‘Thank you,’ he said. But unlike Lot’s wife, he didn’t turn.
‘Remember. We’re all in the same boat. Ha ha! Ship. We’re not go-o-o-ing anywhere.’
His hand was on the gleaming brass handle – and he was out of there.
TWELVE
Francis had found the smart little printed card for the Neptune Society on his bed when he’d returned the previous evening, sunburned and windswept, from his day at Elmina Fort. The Neptune Society requests the pleasure, etc. Klaus had joked about it, told Francis the whole event was just a marketing exercise, part of the discreet pyramid of privilege that the cruise line liked to create for its guests. ‘The next night it’s the Ulysses Society, for those who’ve cruised before. Makes us feel that little bit special, you see. Clever, eh?’ The invite even had an RSVP, to be made to Reception; as if, stuck on board with nothing to do after a long day at sea, you were going to turn down such a get-together. Perhaps people did. Perhaps there were reclusive cruisers. Or those who just wanted to be alone together in their cabin, didn’t want to make the acquaintance of all the other ghastly first-timers, not to mention the attendant officers and crew.
All the key figures had turned out for the occasion. Bearlike First Officer Alexei was with a trio of other, more junior officers in full kit. Gregoire was here, as gorgeous as ever in four-stripe epaulettes and crisp white shirt. The expedition staff, meanwhile, were out of their khaki uniforms and into colourful African shirts and long trousers. Carmen looked positively feminine tonight, in a dark blue satin evening dress with a low neckline.
Around them swirled the first-timers. There were faces Francis recognized and others who were – amazingly – completely new to him. Where on earth had they all been hiding? Big Shirley and her goateed husband were there, bonding noisily with one of the younger officers. You had to hand it to her; if she really was dying of cancer this was surely the way to go, laughing and drinking margaritas on a warm evening somewhere off Liberia.
Despite the shock of last night, everyone seemed to be making a stalwart effort to have a good time. Nonetheless, they couldn’t help themselves from talking about poor Lauren, their own personal experience taking centre stage, already being worked up into the anecdotes that would doubtless continue when they left the ship at Dakar and returned home. ‘When I first woke I wasn’t sure whad was going on’ … ‘I thought maybe something was wrung with the ship’ … ‘No idea about a person overboard’ … ‘I’m still so sharked’ …
‘How did it go with Sadie?’ Carmen asked, pulling Francis to one side.
‘OK. She was a bit tipsy actually.’
Carmen laughed. ‘I hope she didn’t make a pass at you, mate.’
‘God, no!’ His face revealed nothing, even as he thought: this is how it would begin. Within hours of anything having happened, people would know. Osmotically, right across the ship. For the sake of twenty minutes of sweet abandon, he would be linked to her. His cabin would no longer be a haven, where he could retreat and be himself. She would have right of access. Before he knew it, he would be in a relationship. God help him. He was heartily glad he’d made his exit.
‘So what did she want to tell you?’
Francis looked round, then leant towards her. ‘In confidence, she’d seen Gregoire snogging Lauren. The night before we docked in Takoradi.’
‘Hey! That’s a bit of info, isn’t it? Did you believe her?’
‘No reason not to.’
‘If that’s true,’ said Carmen slowly, ‘that is really something. Maybe we should risk talking to Gregoire again. Even if it’s going to put him on his guard.’
‘Not here, I don’t think.’ Francis looked over towards the handsome hotel director, now holding court at the centre of a circle of attentive ladies.
‘Definitely not here.’
She tailed off into silence, because there was a hush in the group chatter. Francis looked over towards the door. The captain had arrived, in full uniform, his navy-blue sleeves ringed with four bands of gold, one thicker than the others. He nodded at the company and accepted a drink from one of the white-jacketed waiters. Then he moved slowly on through the crowd, an awkward smile on his face.
‘Excuse me,’ said Carmen. ‘I’d better rescue him. It’s the Neptune Society, so he’s got none of his old favourites here.’
Francis turned to find Viktor in front of him; the German nodded and moved them a little way out from the throng.
‘How’s it going?’ he asked. ‘Carmen tells me you didn’t get anything much out of Ray.’
‘No,’ Francis replied. He hadn’t realized that Carmen was planning to relay this – or any – information to Viktor. Was this sharing wise? Had it gone higher? Not that Francis thought that Viktor, Alexei or the captain were in any way involved. But who knew who they might confide in as they tried to work out what to do next? The hotel director? Maybe they would. And then, if it were true that Gregoire had something to do with all this, he would surely: a) cover his tracks, b) make sure any compromising info was kept well away from Francis and Carmen. Christ, might they themselves be in danger?
It was not a certainty that Eve had been murdered. Nor that Lauren hadn’t thrown herself off the ship. But George Bernard Dimagiba hadn’t stepped on a snake accidentally and then sat there stoically till he died. And his cabin mate was very scared of something.
‘So what do you think?’ Viktor was asking, leaning forward, speaking in a voice that was barely audible against the surrounding chatter. ‘That Ray knows nothing?’
Maybe Carmen hadn’t told Viktor that much after all. Francis would err on the side of caution.
‘I don’t know,’ he replied. ‘Ray’s line was that he’d been working too hard to talk to George.’
‘That could be true. They do work incredibly long hours, these guys. Even harder than me, sometimes.’
‘Surely not,’ Francis teased. ‘So, next stop, Freetown,’ he continued, moving the subject briskly along before Viktor could quiz him any more. ‘Aren’t you worried that our murderer might try and abscond?’
Viktor took the bait. ‘We can hardly change the itinerary,’ he replied, ‘just for that chance. In any case, the ship is too large to dock at Freetown, so we anchor offshore and make all the transfers by Zodiac. Then there’s no danger of any random crew member getting off. And I doubt that any killer from the passenger list would want to reveal himself by leaving us. Unless he really thought his game was up.’
‘I hope we’re not interrupting.’ Hearing a woman’s voice, Francis looked round to see Bruce and Candy, the Chicago couple. Candy was dressed as if she were just off to a sixties high school prom, in a blue and white sailor-suit dress, her thin blonde hair swept back under a matching blue hairband. Seventy going on sixteen. Bruce was wearing a sports jacket so loud it looked as if it might start singing all by itself.
‘Not at all,’ said Viktor, switching on his expedition leader smile. ‘You two enjoying the party?’
‘We are. Very much. The Neptune Society.’ Candy tittered. ‘All us raw first-timers. But you’ve been on a cruise before,’ she added to Viktor. How stupid was she?
‘Of course. The crew and staff who are with you here tonight have mostly been doing this for a while.’
‘And you, Francis?’ asked Candy.
‘No, I’m a bona fide member of the Neptune Society.’
‘Boner Friday?’ queried Candy, turning to her husband.
‘Genuine,’ Francis clarified. ‘I’m a genuine member of the society. Never having done anything lik
e this before.’
‘It’s Latin,’ Viktor explained. ‘Just the sort of high-end language we expect from our resident lecturers.’ He laughed and Candy joined in, albeit with a puzzled look on her face. Did she even know what Latin was? Francis wondered. Not something to do with those ever-encroaching Latinos, surely?
‘You enjoying it, Francis?’ asked Bruce.
‘I am, very much.’ Francis turned in Viktor’s direction. ‘Although I’ve been lucky, I think, to start with a ship like this.’
‘You have, young man,’ Bruce said. ‘We think this is the best cruise line we’ve tried, and we’ve tried quite a few. The mix of high-end luxury and real adventure is what we like.’
Viktor was beaming. ‘That’s what we aim to provide.’
‘I mean that trip to see those pygmies in Cameroon,’ said Candy. ‘As I said to Bruce—’
‘Many times …’ Bruce interjected.
Candy rolled her eyes in protest, but still barely paused in her flow: ‘How else are you going to gain an experience like that? Pygmies. Right out in the jungle.’ She turned to Francis. ‘We’ll have to show you our photos. If you were travelling independently you’d have had to be here for weeks to see that. Making the contacts—’
‘Gaining the trust,’ Bruce chipped in. ‘That’s what I think you’re shortcutting for us here, Viktor. Remote people like that don’t open up to just anybody. But someone on the team’s done the legwork, meaning that a bunch of old has-beens like us—’
‘Not has-beens, honey. Retired folk.’
‘Retired … beans, then.’ Bruce chuckled throatily at his own non-joke. ‘I think maybe that’s what we should all be called. Retired … beans, ha ha ha! But anyways, my point is, how else are we going to get in to see stuff like that? We’re not. It’s remarkable. I have to say, I think what you’re doing here is remarkable, Viktor.’
‘Thank you,’ said Viktor.
Candy had clearly heard this speech before. She had already moved on, was fixing the expedition leader with a serious look.
‘So tell me, Viktor,’ she asked. ‘You got any more gen on this young lady that went overboard? Was she just drunk, like everyone’s saying?’
Viktor’s hands were folded together in front of him in a gesture of prayer. ‘You were at the briefing this morning?’
‘We were. And Bruce was up on deck last night as well. Doing his bit.’
‘There’s really nothing to add at this moment,’ Viktor said. ‘As far as we can see, the whole thing was just a tragic accident. She had, as you said, drunk a deal too much.’
‘But I had another look at those railings up on deck seven,’ Bruce said. ‘After the briefing. It’s all pretty well secured. I don’t see how you’d just fall over.’
‘Bruce was a police officer,’ said Candy. ‘For thirty years.’
‘Is that so?’ said Viktor.
‘With the Chicago force,’ Candy continued. ‘He rose to the level of commander.’
‘Can you level with us,’ said Bruce, ignoring this. ‘In confidence. D’you think there’s anything more sinister going on here?’
‘What are you saying?’
‘Suicide?’ He paused. ‘Homicide?’
Viktor was shaking his head. ‘I understand your concerns. And obviously, with your experience. But,’ he chuckled, manfully, ‘with all due respect, this isn’t Chicago. I don’t think either of those outcomes is particularly likely.’
‘Particularly likely?’ Bruce repeated the words a little scornfully. ‘But possible. Do you think it’s at all possible? That’s the question you should be asking yourselves.’
‘The other question a number of us have been asking,’ said Candy, ‘is why you didn’t search the sea for longer this morning? It was barely light when we turned round and steamed on. There were no planes or helicopters. No air-sea rescue.’
‘The decision of how long we search for is entirely the captain’s,’ said Viktor. ‘You would have to take that up with him.’ He turned from wife to husband. ‘But I’m sure you understand, Bruce. This isn’t the coast of Florida. This is Africa. We were off Cote d’Ivoire last night. One of the remotest, poorest places in the world. There is no air-sea rescue to summon.’
Bruce had turned a perceptibly darker shade of red. He looked like a lobster in the pan with the heat turned up. A muscle twitched in his cheek. He was doing his level best, Francis saw, to stay polite and in control.
‘Of course I understand, Viktor, that this isn’t Florida. We wouldn’t have come here if it was. We signed up for an adventure – and it looks like we might have got one. I also understand that you don’t want to stop the cruise, that you want us all, if possible, to go on having a good time. Goldencruise don’t want to be refunding a hundred plus passengers twenty thousand bucks each, of course they don’t. But there’s an atmosphere on this ship now. People have imaginations. Some of them are wondering whether this lady fell over the edge all by herself – or whether, to be frank, she had some help. And I’d be a liar if I didn’t tell you, I’m one of them.’
‘I’ll be honest with you, Bruce,’ Viktor replied. ‘Anything is possible here. But we’ve spoken to this woman’s partner and looked into all the circumstances, and a terrible accident really does seem like the most likely option.’
Francis was glad that the expedition leader hadn’t brought him into the discussion, though obviously revealing to this ex-cop that he had been asked to act as a quasi-detective in a case of three mysterious deaths would not have been helpful. Fortunately, at that moment, there was a distraction, as the party’s decibel level dropped to acknowledge a glamorous young arrival.
Sadie was in a low-cut, backless black velvet dress with slits up the thighs, which were themselves jacked up alluringly on a pair of four-inch black diamante heels. It was amazing, Francis thought, that she was upright at all, let alone striding so confidently across the room. Next to her, her aunt, in a long shirt of orange, blue and black stripes over black trousers, looked positively dowdy, even with her sparkling diamond earrings. Sadie accepted a flute of champagne from one of the waiters and made straight for the captain.
Viktor had taken advantage of this diversion by excusing himself, slipping away through the crowd to do his bit with another group of first-timers. With the object of his indignation removed, the puff seemed to have gone out of Bruce. He shook his head, more mystified it seemed than angry.
‘I don’t have anything against him personally,’ he told Francis. ‘But they haven’t handled it well. Just for appearances, I would have stuck around searching till well after dawn.’
‘It was pretty hopeless, though, don’t you think? They weren’t going to find her.’
‘You know, Francis, it doesn’t cost them anything – much – to circle in the sea for a few hours. And then they can throw up their hands and say, “Job done”. As for his point about air-sea rescue … like anything else that’s a question of money. I don’t believe there isn’t a helicopter somewhere in West Africa. Some of those dictators have at least one, don’t they?’
He had regained his humour. But Francis was relieved when another couple joined them.
‘These martinis don’t miss, do they?’ said the male, who was decked out in a colourful Mandela shirt. His accent was sing-song, old-fashioned Aussie, coming from a sun-beaten face whose etched wrinkles spoke of years of politically incorrect laughter. His tiny wife looked similarly baked by the elements; a gleaming grin sat perkily in the face of a cheerful lizard. Her frock was an almost fluorescent orange, with a big frill of orange feathers along the hemline.
‘I haven’t tried one yet,’ Bruce replied.
‘Ah, mate, you should. Put you in a much better mood. I need to be, what with all these people falling off the blinking boat.’
‘We were just talking about that,’ said Bruce. ‘Now whadda you think? They could have stopped a little longer to search for her?’
‘Yeah. I was just saying that earlier to Noelene here
. They could at least have hung around till the sun came up. Quite apart from anything else, it’s not very reassuring for the rest of us old battlers.’
Looking up, Francis saw that Viktor was gesturing to him. Discreetly, with the fingers of one hand. He was standing next to the captain, who had now moved away from Sadie. Francis made an excuse to the American/Aussie foursome and crossed the room.
The captain stepped out of earshot of the crowd and Viktor followed.
‘Viktor tells me that cabin mate of dead engineer told you he hadn’t spoken to George about MOB incident,’ the captain said.
‘Yes,’ Francis replied, cursing Carmen’s indiscretion.
‘And you didn’t believe him.’
Well, if she wanted to share everything with the bosses before she and he had even digested it together, he might as well join in. ‘I don’t want to get him into trouble,’ he said, ‘but no, I’m not sure. I got the feeling that maybe George Bernard might have said—’
‘We will have to get him to explain himself,’ the captain interrupted. ‘Can you and Carmen join me on the bridge in’ – he glanced at his watch – ‘fifteen minutes?’
‘Of course.’
‘You too, please, Viktor. I will get Alexei to summon him now.’
He turned and headed towards the doors to the lobby. As if remembering at the last minute his obligations as the trustworthy figurehead of the ship, he turned, smiled a fixed oblong smile, and bowed his head a fraction as the hubbub hushed.
‘Thank you all very much for coming to Neptune party,’ he said. ‘We greatly value our first-time guests. I hope you have pleasant evening. And when you cruise again, remember what good time you had with Golden Adventurer.’
There was a ripple of laughter at this, though the captain had not, Francis thought, been joking; this was a sincere nugget of pre-rehearsed marketing, to be repeated, presumably, up until the point of a full-on norovirus outbreak or pirate attack.
He was gone.
‘What’s he going to do to him?’ Francis asked.