‘And it’s not just cruise ships,’ I’d go on. ‘The Implacable, a seventy-four-gun ship built in 1800, had stern carvings over four decks high that made it look like a tall building. This carving was saved and is now on the wall inside the entrance to the Maritime Museum at Greenwich.’
‘What happened to the ship?’ someone was bound to ask.
‘The Implacable was scuttled in the English Channel on 2 December 1949,’ I’d conclude, bringing the sorry tale to an end.
‘Why?’
‘Lack of money after the war. I think they had bands playing and flags flying to make it a worthy occasion.’
Yes, I would definitely get the tour. I was a natural. I might even volunteer for the brownie points.
I wasn’t sure where the day went. My arm was starting to hurt; I wasn’t resting it properly. Bruce and I pored over the bank statements in a secluded corner of the Boulevard Café. Crested peaks of waves followed the white wake in a soothing rhythm.
‘There’s a pattern,’ he said. ‘Look at the dates. The smaller sums are erratic, but the five hundred pounds is regular on the last day of each month.’
‘Could it be the interest from some investment or a regular sum withdrawn?’
‘It would never be a round sum. There are always deductions for management fees or a change of interest rates. No, he’s getting the five hundred pounds from the same source every month, either from one person or a company group.’
‘What for?’
‘It looks like a sophisticated blackmail racket. I’d guess he’s collecting a handout every month to keep quiet about something. The smaller sums are one-off payments, sometimes in cash. But he is a man who doesn’t throw his money about with high living. He prefers to bank it and watch his money grow.’
‘Not these days.’
‘It must be hurting. But look at these payments out to a betting shop. The man likes the horses.’
‘And how do you think this all ties in with the deaths?’
‘Maybe Tracy Coleman found out about his extra financial activities and threatened to expose him. He couldn’t have that happen, so there was enough motivation to silence her.’
‘It’s possible. And this Sally Newman, the widow? We know nothing about her, whether she was a passenger also being blackmailed or if she had to be silenced because she found out about him.’ I couldn’t see how we were going to find out. ‘What about Lorna Fletcher, poor lady?’
‘I think he approached her for a handout. We know she had been cheating in a very minor way in the quiz game, but he thought he could get something out of her to keep her quiet on the cruise. You know, being sent to Coventry on a cruise would not be pleasant. But he hadn’t reckoned on her spirit and maybe she threatened to go to the captain.’
‘She had phobias, a fear of people and a fear of open spaces. Agoraphobia. It would take a lot of courage.’
Bruce was looking at me with a strange expression. ‘Casey, I know you are in peak mental condition, despite your arm. And you have a lot of courage.’
‘I don’t like the sound of that,’ I said. I suddenly craved the safety of my own sofa in Worthing. I had a long pale apple-green sofa that I could sit on sideways and stretch my legs out, easing the pain in my ankle. It was like a friend, always welcoming.
‘The only way we are going to catch him is to set a trap. We need bait. Attractive female bait. We need someone to do something wrong, criminal, dubious, something dishonest or immoral. Then we’ll wait until Mr Nasty approaches with a financial arrangement to ensure his utter silence and diplomacy.’
‘Don’t look at me like that.’ I attempted to choke silently.
‘Casey, please. I won’t let anything happen to you.’
‘I don’t want to do this. Haven’t I been through enough? Look, someone shot at me, tried to injure me or kill me. My job is arranging the entertainment. Bait doesn’t get a bonus.’
‘Tracy won’t get a bonus, either. You said yourself that he was a serial killer. How many more, Casey? We have got to catch him.’ Bruce leaned forward and took my hand. It was warm and firm against my cold skin. ‘You could do it. Any way you like. I won’t leave you for a moment.’
That was quite tempting to have Bruce constantly at my side. If Sam wasn’t around, he would have to be second best. Nothing had to happen.
‘Dishonest or immoral?’ he asked.
‘Immoral, of course,’ I said, leaning on a sigh. ‘Far more fun.’
22. St Lucia
I only said immoral to lighten the atmosphere, but Bruce took it seriously. It sounded like one of those old-fashioned divorce cases where a prostitute provided the evidence and they sat on either side of the bed playing cards. Didn’t Henry VIII play cards all night with the imported queen number four that he didn’t fancy?
I thought I would have a choice of a partner in crime. But Bruce said no to Captain Wellington and definitely no to Chief Engineer Daniel Webster. They were my first and second choices, high on the list. The disappointment showed on my face momentarily.
‘Not blackmail material,’ he said. ‘More like perfectly natural assignations. I’ll fix it up for you. Something special, something positively immoral.’
I thought I had been spectacularly dim and was going to need a three-week coma to survive this. ‘Not Judith Skinner? I’d say no to Judith or her chief nurse. You are not going to drag them into this.’
‘Hardly raise an eyebrow these days,’ said Bruce.
We were up early, passing the end of the airport runway of St Lucia on our port side. We saw the twin peaks in the distant mist. ‘Stand by below’ was rung to the engine control room as we approached the buoyed entrance channel. The first mooring lines were sent to the berth soon after, and all lines berthing the Aveline were soon fast.
The wide harbour of Port Castries was bustling with other cruise ships, white flags flying, merchant ships and ferries. Passengers were up early, anxious to go ashore. There were lots of shops, boutiques, markets and an Internet café close at hand. Not to mention numerous bars and cafés. There were also lots of traffic jams, as the rush hour tried to negotiate the narrow side streets.
‘I’d like to go ashore,’ I said.
‘You’re staying here,’ Bruce said firmly.
‘Don’t worry. Go back to your cabin and undress. Put on something loose and comfortable.’
‘I haven’t got anything loose and comfortable.’
‘Put on your bathrobe. You are going to be compromised.’
‘There’s no way out but death,’ I said. It was a quote from somewhere, but I was not sure where. Sounded like Shakespeare.
*
I was not sure how this trap was going to work. I was to be caught in a compromising situation, then blackmailed. Clearly, I would not resist the blackmail — no garrotting, thank you — but promise to pay, make out a cheque, etc, or have loads of cash ready. Tearfully, of course. This would be filmed, videoed, CCTVed or whatever Bruce rigged up to get the evidence. I’d be accepted for RADA at this rate. A new career loomed.
How this would lead to the man’s arrest over the murders was up to the authorities and their forensic evidence. Perhaps they hoped he might confess. This kind of situation never occurred in my initial training sessions. I ought to send Head Office a memo.
I had a quick shower in case I didn’t get another chance. It was strange how nervous I felt, far more nervous than walking onto a stage in front of a crowd of people. I hoped Bruce had not chosen some airhead celebrity for this escapade. We had a few on board. Maybe we would watch some in-house television, have a cup of coffee, make small talk.
There was a knock on my cabin door and I took a deep breath. The moment had come. I had to go through with it. There was Tracy to think of, and Lorna Fletcher and the unknown Sally Newman. I was doing it for them.
Hasid stood in the corridor with a laden trolley. He smiled at me. It was an innocent smile on his handsome face.
‘Refreshments, Miss?’
‘Yes, thank you. Please bring the trolley in.’ It was serious head-nodding time. Was he part of the plan, or was I simply being offered more food? Did I need building up again?
He paused in the doorway. Had Bruce told him anything? Did he know that he was risking his job? An assignation with a steward, especially a steward from overseas, was a serious offence. I could lose my job, and so could he.
He wheeled the trolley in and stood, waiting. He was waiting to be asked if he should pour the coffee. I nodded, at the same time dialling Bruce’s mobile phone number. ‘Yes, please, Hasid. Please pour the coffee. Would you like some?’
‘Thank you, Miss.’
‘Hello?’ Bruce answered.
‘Is this right? A delivery of refreshments that I didn’t order? You know this could be a serious offence? It’s not on. He could lose his job.’
‘Don’t worry about him. He won’t get into trouble. Offer the young steward a coffee, but don’t drink any yourself.’
‘Is that all?’ I was indignant.
‘That’s all you need to know.’
I was shocked. No way would I get this young man into trouble. It was unacceptable. Bring on the airhead celebrity. I would tell Hasid to go back to his duties. I put down the phone and turned.
But it was too late. This young man was enjoying the novelty of a coffee in the company of a female member of the entertainment department. And a female member in her bathrobe and with wet hair. He knew that he shouldn’t, but it would be something to talk about in the canteen with his friends. The crew lived on cabin gossip.
‘No, don’t …’ I said. But it was too late. Hasid put down the cup unsteadily. He was already looking strange; his eyes wavering round the cabin. I knew immediately what had been done. The coffee had been drugged. Something quick-acting.
I caught Hasid as he staggered and fell. He was slightly built and I could take his weight, even with only one good arm. It was not difficult to drag him over to the bed and let him fall onto it. He was out for the count. But he was breathing normally and did not seem distressed. I hoped it was something he could sleep off. Something that would not harm him.
I poured myself some pineapple juice from the trolley. I’d have words with Bruce about this. It was not fair to Hasid. I hoped Hasid was going to get a big bonus. I could ring Bruce again … if I knew where the phone … and Bruce’s number … what … was … his number …
*
I awoke some time later. I was also on the bed. It was a single bed with hardly room for two grown people, so Hasid was close. Too close. He was snoring lightly.
I looked at his face. He was a dead ringer for a baby angel. I would make sure that he did not get into trouble. I emptied out two water bottles in the bathroom and filled one with the cold coffee from his cup and the other with the pineapple juice from my glass. I dated both of them. This evidence might be needed.
He was still asleep when I left the cabin and went on deck. I had no idea of the time. It was an overnight stay in St Lucia, but which day was it now? How long had I slept? Who had put me on the bed with the young steward?
I was seething. The first person to speak to me was going to get an earful, and Bruce would get more than an earful. It was Daniel Webster, taking a break from his engines, and he knew nothing about any of this.
‘Casey? You’re looking better. How are you feeling?’
‘Still sore. Had a good night’s sleep,’ I added ironically. ‘When do we depart?’
‘At six p.m., but all on board by five thirty p.m. Are you going ashore, Casey? No? Would you like to come with me for a drink and a stroll round the harbour? Nothing too strenuous.’
A drink and a stroll with this pleasant young officer would be normal and nautical miles away from the lunacy that I was involved in now. I found one of my grade-A smiles for him. ‘That sounds good,’ I said. It was the third time he’d asked me out. ‘Let me know when you are free.’
‘I’ll phone you.’
‘I’ll put on strolling clothes.’
‘You’d look great in anything.’
My morale shot sky high. I rose from the ashes. I was myself again. My confidence returned and I knew I would survive whatever happened in the next few hours. I sat on deck, near the Boulevard Café, nursing an un-doctored coffee and a croissant with a pat of butter. To hell with calories.
Edmund came and sat beside me. He had a laden tray with his usual fry-up. ‘OK if I join you?’
‘Sure. Is that your breakfast or a late supper? Or both?’
‘I’ve been up working half the night. All these compensation claims after the raid. I have to initial them as correct, and of course, I have no way of knowing if the claims are right.’
‘Oh dear. It must be difficult.’
‘I’ve even got a box of jewellery left over, all unclaimed. How can passengers not know what they were wearing? I’ve got watches, earrings, necklaces.’
I didn’t really know. ‘I suppose if you wear the same rings, day in and day out, or the same watch or gold chain necklace, you forget exactly what. You could have an auction at the end of the cruise and give the money to the sailors’ benevolent fund.’
‘That’s it, good idea,’ said Edmund, shovelling eggs and bacon in to his mouth, followed by hash browns. ‘No one really knows what they’ve got.’
I let him get on with his breakfast. The sun was rising and the first warm rays were flooding the decks. Even the deck runners had finished and were staggering towards the café for water and juice.
‘Do you ever run, Edmund?’
‘Once upon a time. But not now. Sadly, it’s called encroaching old age. Old Father Time and all that.’
He leaned towards me and pushed a handful of photographs in my direction. I didn’t need to know what they were. But how did he get them? They were shots of me, in a gaping bathrobe, close to Hasid, bare arms and legs entwined.
‘So what’s this?’ I said. The words came from nowhere.
‘So, Casey,’ he said, spearing a hash-brown. ‘Not quite the cold ice maiden that you pretend to be. Like young boys, do you, with a brown skin? This looks like quite a hot session and with a young cabin steward. Tut, tut, Casey. This could ruin your career. It will certainly ruin your career if it gets out to Head Office. And, of course, the boy will never work with Conway Blue Line again, or any other cruise line. Back to the fields for him.’ Edmund Morgan, security officer. So inept. So inefficient. So useless. But there was one thing that he was adept at, it seemed: Blackmail.
‘Where did you get these?’
‘They were put under my door. You have an enemy, my dear. No prizes for guessing who.’
‘Are you going to give them to me?’ I said, my hand on the photographs.
‘Good heavens, no. They are worth quite a bit. Five hundred, in cash.’
‘For heaven’s sake, you’re joking. I don’t have it.’
‘I suggest you find it, and pretty quick. You earn a good salary.’
His eyes were no longer mild; they were now glinting with undisguised greed.
‘I’ll go ashore and get the money,’ I said, my words all mumbled. I didn’t know what I was saying. Where was Bruce? I needed rescuing. Croissant crumbs fell onto my lap.
‘That’s my girl,’ he said mildly.
‘I’m not your girl.’ Ripples of sick panic shot through me.
‘Oh, yes, you are. You belong to me now. And I’ve made copies of the photographs. Destroying these won’t be the end, either. You’re mine till the end of your natural days. You’re going to be paying for your little roll in the hay forever and ever.’
23. St Lucia
‘I told you that I wouldn’t leave your side,’ said Bruce. There was a split second of softness. ‘And I didn’t, not from the moment that you passed out. I heaved you up and put you on the bed so at least you were comfortable. I was with you all the time, till you began to wake up.’
‘Heaved me up? What kind of language is that?’
>
‘Sorry. You’re quite tall.’
‘You took those photographs,’ I choked. ‘Yes. Sorry about that, but here are the negatives. You can have them. You can destroy them.’
‘I’ll never forgive you.’
‘I’m sorry if that’s how you feel, but you did agree to help catch this killer. I didn’t say it would be easy.’
It was true. I should have known that it wouldn’t be a piece of cake. ‘What about Hasid? I don’t want him to get into trouble.’
‘It’s all been covered. As far as anyone knows, he was taken sick and spent the night in the crew sick bay. He’ll remember nothing about passing out in your cabin. Hopefully all he will remember is delivering the trolley to your cabin and then waking up in the sick bay.’
‘Is that a promise?’
‘A promise.’
‘And what about my meeting with Edmund this morning? Was it filmed?’
‘No, but there was a bug under the table. We have recorded the conversation. It’s all on tape.’
‘How did you know which table I would sit at?’ I was beginning to relax, hoping for a non-scary answer. ‘I could have sat anywhere.’
Bruce could not help grinning. ‘We bugged all the tables. You’d be surprised at morning table talk. Good thing I’m not into extortion. I could make a fortune and retire on the proceeds.’
‘And when will you arrest Edmund?’ I wanted the man under lock and key. I didn’t want to feel a scarf tightening round my neck.
‘When you hand the money over to him. He has to be caught in the act. If we arrest him now, he could say that it’s a big lie and you made it all up.’
‘Sure, like I made up the photos? I suppose you slipped them under his door?’
‘Sorry. I couldn’t think of any other way of getting them to him.’
‘So he’ll think they were from his accomplice?’
‘Probably, if there is one. We don’t know.’
‘Supposing he checks?’
‘Ah … let’s hope that he doesn’t. It could get complicated. Don’t worry, Casey. Your part is nearly over. You only have to hand him the money. And I have the cash here for you.’ He patted his pocket. ‘I’ll give it to you when you’ve made the arrangements to meet him again.’
A Wide Berth Page 18