Sail Away

by Celia Imrie

  ‘According to the post-mortem, he’d actually died sitting down, and his body was moved shortly after death.’

  ‘That would take some doing.’

  ‘You said that Stan was doing his Violet Elizabeth Bott thing when the police rang at the door?’

  ‘Shrieking? Yes.’

  ‘So, let’s presume that Appenzell had got rid of everyone except Stan after you left with those two kids. But Stan refused to go. Appenzell must have known from your demeanour that you wouldn’t leave it there. So when the doorbell rang, at that time of night, the person at the door must either be you, coming back for a fight, or the police.’

  ‘Yes. I suppose he would have thought that.’

  ‘So he had to stop Stan making a noise. How long before Appenzell spoke into the Entryphone?’

  ‘Seemed an age.’

  ‘Exactly. And had Stan shut up by then?’

  Jason nodded.

  ‘So, presumably Stan was sitting, squealing, arms folded, just like he was when he pulled the same trick in the rehearsal room. And Appenzell covered Stan’s mouth, maybe used a cushion. For a man in Stan’s state of health it would only take a minute to get him unconscious, wouldn’t you think, Jason?’

  ‘Now, when the police came in, Stan would have been sitting there, seemingly asleep. The flat quiet. Just Appenzell schmoozing them. He certainly put on a “just woken up” voice to answer. And, later, when he came out on to the balcony to give me the evil eye, he was wearing what looked like a maroon paisley silk dressing gown, so presumably he’d thrown that on while the police were coming up in the lift.’

  ‘We’re on to the right track here, Jason.’

  ‘Perhaps Appenzell simply thought he’d knocked Stan unconscious. Left him there to sleep it off. Came out to glare at me. Went back in …’

  ‘… And then, later on, couldn’t rouse Stan, realised that he was dead, rolled him under the bed and, what next?’

  ‘He had a dead body in his flat …’

  ‘More than that, Jason. Because Appenzell knew that that body was supposed to be appearing next day in the very play he was producing; he knew that Stan would be missed quite early next morning when the dress rehearsal started …’

  ‘And everyone would have gone searching after Stan, and they would have come to me to ask about him as Reg knew we’d both been at the party …’

  ‘And you would certainly have pointed them to that flat.’ Suzy clapped her hands. ‘So, you see, he HAD to cancel the show.’

  ‘And he also had to skedaddle,’ said Jason. ‘Using my airline ticket.’

  ‘Jason!’ Suzy gripped his arm. ‘Talk about Tommy and Tuppence! We should be sleuths.’

  ‘We should be asleep, you mean. And you’ve got to finish perfecting your script for the morning. Night-night, old girl.’

  ‘Less of the old.’

  As Jason left and Suzy went back to work, they felt as though they were starting to get somewhere. Their most pressing worry now was Amanda.

  PART SIX

  Cape Sable to New Jersey Bite

  18

  Amanda woke slowly. Her head was pounding and her eyes glued together with sleep. She tried to look out of the window and saw nothing but a white sheet. She presumed it must be fog.

  A long deep blast from the ship’s whistle confirmed her suspicions.

  She could remember little of last night.

  Had she gone dancing?

  She looked down. She was wearing a nightgown. If she was as drunk as she thought she must have been, how had that happened? She’d have expected to wake up fully clothed with her make-up smeared all over the pillow. Who had undressed her? Or had she had a sudden burst of sobriety before she got into bed?

  Slowly, as she discovered that she was aching all over, she rolled back to face the main part of the cabin.

  That was strange! Someone had tidied up her cabin too. The tops, which she had left cluttered, were empty. There was no make-up bag at the dressing table. The chair, which she had left draped with her day clothes, was bare.

  Where was her suitcase? It was usually propped up in the corner. She twisted round to see the other bedside table.

  Her laptop was gone too.

  She pushed herself to a sitting position and surveyed the room.

  Everything was gone. The cabin had been cleared of all her personal possessions.

  But, apart from that, it did seem to be her cabin. She looked around for any distinguishing marks, but of course hadn’t noticed anything to remember. Perhaps she was in another, similar cabin, not her own.

  That was the only possible solution.

  She pulled open the bedside drawer where she kept her underwear. The drawer was empty.

  Amanda drew back the bedclothes and sat up.

  Her head was still spinning.

  She tried to remember last night, but only the vaguest flashes of memory returned. She recalled having a row with that odious man, Chris, at dinner. After that she knew she had probably gone dancing. That had certainly been her intention anyhow. But she could not remember being in the ballroom at all.

  She tried to get to her feet but the room swam before her and she sank back on to the bed. She lay still for a while. The ship’s foghorn let out a long deep blast, waking her from a momentary snooze.

  She tried to get up again.

  Her head was thumping. She staggered to the bathroom and took a few mouthfuls of water from her cupped hands. It was odd to her that there were no tooth mugs or glasses in the bathroom. There usually were.

  She decided to take a tepid shower to try and get herself back on to an even keel. Afterwards, when she reached up for something with which to dry herself, she realised there were no towels, either on the rails or the racks.

  Dripping wet, she came back into the cabin then dried herself by lying between the bed-sheets.

  She pulled open the drawers, one by one, then opened the wardrobe. Nothing.

  What was she to wear?

  She put her nightie back on.

  At that moment, there was a knock on the door.

  ‘Who is it?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s Karl.’

  She started to get up to open the door but he had already let himself in. He was bearing a small breakfast tray. He came over and sat in the armchair by the balcony window, gesturing for her to join him.

  Amanda had a sudden dreadful thought that last night he might have stripped her and put her in the nightgown. Maybe more had happened? ‘You didn’t undress me, did you?’

  He laughed.

  ‘No, no, no. I do know about a lady’s propriety. I got a chambermaid in, and she prepared you for bed, with the help of a lady colleague.’

  ‘But where are my clothes?’

  Karl winced.

  ‘I’m sorry to have to tell you that you had a little accident. So the girls took the clothes away to be cleaned. No doubt they’ll bring them back later today, washed, pressed and better than new.’ He pushed the tray towards her. ‘Now, I think you should have a little porridge and the orange juice I brought you. It’ll make you feel better.’

  Amanda felt covered in shame. A little accident? What could that mean? Had she vomited? She was mortified. But she realised that Karl was right about eating. She needed to line her stomach. Her head still ached.

  ‘I suppose you don’t have any ibuprofen on you?’

  Karl fumbled in his pockets.

  ‘As it happens, I do.’ He took out a tiny bottle from an inner pocket and emptied two little white tablets into the palm of his hand. ‘I came fully prepared,’ he said, dropping the pills on to the tray. ‘I suggest that you wash them down with the orange juice. I suspect you’ll need to rest here in your cabin today.’

  ‘Did I really disgrace myself last night?’

  ‘How much can you remember?’

  ‘I remember having a quarrel over dinner. After that, not much.’

  ‘You have no recollections at all of being in the ballroom?’
/>
  Amanda looked down into the lap of her nightie and, being so scantily clad, felt uncomfortably exposed. She had a fleeting memory of Myriam last night, sitting nearby and shaking her head at her.

  ‘Did I do something awful?’

  Karl laughed. ‘Not as far as I know. You’d just had a little too much to drink after the upset of your son being arrested and all the trouble at home with your bank and the purchase of the new flat in Pimlico. Now that you’re a little more sedate, perhaps you could tell me everything about what’s going on, and I’ll see if I can help. Remember that I work in finance.’

  This statement brought another elusive image flashing into her head. Something to do with the money? Something to do with the email from her lawyers?

  ‘Where are all my things? Why has my cabin been stripped?’

  Karl looked around. ‘Oh yes. I can see how that might have confused you. You’re not actually in your own cabin. This is my cabin. I had no way to let you into yours. You didn’t appear to have a key.’

  ‘It was in my clutch bag.’

  ‘Ah!’ Karl sat back. ‘You must have left that in the ballroom. I wouldn’t worry. Myriam will have taken care of it.’

  ‘I remember that she was there with me.’ Amanda felt terrible. She now owed Karl such a huge debt of gratitude. ‘I’m so sorry. Where did you sleep, Karl?’

  ‘It was no problem. I’m a night owl. I wandered the decks for a while, played a little roulette, lost my shirt, then went up to the Seahorse Lounge. It was dark. The bar staff had gone off duty. So I curled up on one of those huge sofas and had a very comfortable night.’

  ‘But your clothes …?’

  ‘I let myself in, earlier on. You were out for the count. So I took all my stuff off in my suitcase and, after my morning gym session, I changed into what I’m wearing now.’ He slid the bowl nearer to her. ‘You really should eat.’

  Amanda took a mouthful of porridge, and found it very comforting.

  ‘I don’t usually do things like this, you know. I can’t remember the last time I got drunk.’

  ‘You’ve been under great stress lately, Amanda. Moving home is a serious trauma, but then to discover that your son is in on some dreadful scam and trying to implicate you must be horrible. I can’t imagine what it would be like.’

  The mini-flashes of memory from last night suddenly merged into a pattern in Amanda’s mind.

  ‘Oh yes, Karl. I do remember something about the money thing from last night. Something very important.’

  ‘You still haven’t taken the pills,’ said Karl.

  ‘I’ll save them for later,’ she said.

  ‘I think it’s advisable to take them with food.’

  Amanda moved the pills around on the tray. ‘My solicitor sent me a nasty email telling me that my son was in league with some other man over the money thing. Jason Scott. That’s his name. I don’t trust him. Too good-looking.’

  ‘Why would you know what he looks like, this Jason Scott?’

  ‘I know Jason Scott.’ Amanda took another mouthful of porridge. ‘He’s onboard this ship.’

  Karl grew very still. When he next spoke it was with care. ‘What do you mean, he’s onboard this ship?’

  ‘Jason Scott works for the ship.’ Amanda swigged the orange juice. ‘He’s usually an actor, but was badly let down by a theatre company in Zurich, so he took this job to bail himself out. He’s a very good-looking young man. But clearly also a crook.’

  Karl appeared to be frozen in his seat. For some seconds he didn’t even breathe, then he took one huge inhalation. ‘What does he look like, this Jason Scott?’

  ‘Dark curly hair, mid-twenties. Slim. Flashing teeth, oozing with charm, all that actory stuff.’

  ‘And he works for the ship, you say. What does he do? Waiter? Barman?’

  ‘No, he’s one of those gigolos who dance with lone women. A gentleman host.’

  Karl leaned forward and pushed the two tablets in Amanda’s direction.

  ‘I’m not leaving this cabin till you take those pills, Amanda.’

  Amanda shrugged. ‘You’re probably right.’ She picked up the two pills and placed them on her tongue and then took another gulp of orange juice to swill them down.

  ‘There,’ she said.

  Karl sat back and stared at her.

  She felt oddly disturbed by his attention. His look was sharp and intense, and he wouldn’t take his eyes from hers.

  ‘I was thinking I should perhaps report that Jason boy to the Captain, Karl. What do you think?’ Amanda felt suddenly tired again. ‘When I get back to my own cabin I will certainly write to my solicitors and tell them that Jason Scott is onboard.’

  Karl leaned in and spoke urgently. ‘You haven’t told anyone yet, have you, about Jason Scott?’

  Amanda shook her head. She wondered why this made her feel strange. Her vision was blurred, a dizziness spilling over her. ‘Until last night I didn’t realise he had anything to do with it. But last night I told him, all right. I told him.’

  She found speech difficult. She couldn’t seem to make her lips move. Everything she said sounded as though she was underwater.

  ‘Are you feeling all right, Amanda?’ Karl asked, standing now and walking around the table in the direction of her seat.

  She tried to say no, she didn’t feel all right at all, she felt strangely not all right, as though she was drunk again and worse, but no words would come out. She felt a warm trickle down her legs, and realised she had lost control of her bladder. Karl was lifting her up now, dragging her over to the bed, laying her down.

  ‘I need to talk to the Captain,’ Amanda tried to say, but realised no whole words came out, just an odd howling noise. ‘I need to tell them about Jason Scott.’

  ‘You’re not talking to anyone about anything, Amanda,’ said Karl, leaning over her and pulling at her eyelids. ‘You’ll lie here all day, until it gets dark. Then, dear Amanda, owner of my old flat in Pimlico, we will say farewell. For, during the pitch black of the early hours, you’ll be accidentally falling overboard. And till then you’ll keep quiet.’ He looked at his watch. ‘For the rest of the day you will sleep like a baby.’

  Amanda lost consciousness.

  *

  Suzy clutched both her own and a spare script for Jason, just in case he forgot to bring his. She was all dressed up and ready, hovering in the wings. Andy had come down and fixed her microphone pack. Through the curtains, she could hear the murmur of the audience as they took their seats. She looked at her watch. Less than five minutes till curtain up. Where was Jason? He couldn’t let her down now. Actors were usually early for everything. Jason knew how important this talk was going to be for Suzy. If she made a hit of it, she was hoping that the cruise line would renew her contract. There was so little work around for women of her age, and she was really getting into the swing of ship-board life.

  Andy approached her.

  ‘Do you want me to take away the other chair? It’ll look odd having two if you’re on your own.’

  Suzy declined.

  ‘With any luck, he’ll arrive, panting, after I’ve begun. Let’s leave it there. Just in case. I’m sure he’ll turn up.’

  Andy murmured through his headphones, then nodded at Suzy. ‘We’ve got clearance. Off you go! Good luck!’

  Suzy walked out through the curtains to the applause of a full theatre.

  She launched into the talk with as much enthusiasm as she could, reading the men’s roles with as much gusto as the women’s. Although her mind was distracted by the thought that at any moment the curtains might part and Jason would dash through, leaping into his character, Suzy knew that the audience was with her. They were laughing at all the funny bits, and someone even booed when she read out the evidence of a Puritan campaigner who had succeeded in closing down all the theatres in England for nineteen years.

  As Suzy turned the page, she took a moment to observe the audience. She was immediately drawn to a solitary well-dresse
d man sitting, arms folded, in the front row. She caught eyes with him. It was Appenzell.

  Hastily she threw her full attention back into her script.

  Why was he here? He was gazing up at her with a serene smile on his face. It was almost as though he was taunting her.

  Her mind swung back to Mike Turner, collapsing in the audience during her first ever talk.

  Just like on that day, someone in the auditorium coughed. Another echoed it, then a general shuffle around. She was losing the audience. She could hear them fidgeting. She knew she had to keep her focus.

  She raised her eyes from Karl Appenzell, and hurled herself into the characterisations, telling the whole magnificent story of the English theatre from the Middle Ages to today with as much flare as she could radiate. There was a small clock on the lectern. She glanced at it from time to time. She was keeping the pace up, and making sure she was neither going too fast or too slow.

  Once the talk ended, she was expected to do a ten-minute Q&A session.

  She glimpsed at the clock when there were exactly ten minutes left. She read the final sentences, a quote from Shakespeare, and took a bow. As the applause dropped she stepped forward and asked for the house lights to be brought up.

  She noticed that Appenzell was not clapping.

  But that was his prerogative.

  She took some questions from the floor, following the boy who scampered about the auditorium passing the microphone to people with their hands up. One man wanted to know if Suzy would be appearing in any plays coming up in the West End, as he’d love to see her in action in a great role. One woman actually asked if there was likely to be a revival of Dahlias. As the questions petered out Suzy checked the clock. It was almost winding-up time, when she must send the audience on their way.

  She was very disappointed in Jason. He had let her down badly.

  The lights flickered. Her cue to draw things to a close.

  ‘One last question from the floor,’ Suzy announced. ‘And then you’ll be in good time to rush off and claim your tables for afternoon tea.’

  The audience laughed.

  She had read them perfectly.

  The boy with the microphone was running down the side aisle.