Diamond in the Blue: D.I. Simpers Investigates

by Phil Kingsman

Amelia ignored the Purser's petulance as he retrieved his napkin, screwed it into an untidy ball and threw it onto the table. Instead, she watched Simpers as he disappeared through the open dining room doors.

  ***

  Simpers lengthened his stride as he looked at his watch again, it was 9.57pm. The port side corridor felt deserted as he made his way to the midships bank of elevators. He turned the corner. Two of the three elevators had a sign on them saying they were out of order. Simpers thought this unusual but his thought process turned to irritation as he pressed the call button on the remaining elevator. Elevator one, then waited for what seemed an age.

  It was 9.58pm.

  The stillness of the evening ended as a melodic chime signalled the elevator's arrival, its entrance doors sliding to one side as Simpers stepped inside. As he turned to face the lobby, the door slid closed.

  His watch read 9.59pm.

  Seconds later the elevator door opened and Simpers stepped out into a lobby which led to the quietness of the medical centre. He was low in the ship and any movement he felt in the dining room had now dissipated completely. Devoid of any window opening to the outside world, he could have been in any building the world over. Simpers still found it difficult to accept that such a vessel was able to float at all. What he did understand was that he still wished he was on terra firma.

  The detective looked around with trepidation. He felt as though someone's eyes were on him. He tried hard to fight a growing sense of unease as he scanned the claustrophobic environment. As he stepped forward to approach the entrance to the medical centre, he heard a noise to his left. He stopped. He turned to pinpoint the sound, his eyes drawn to the slow movement of a door handle. A sign on the centre of the door indicated it was for crew use only.

  Simpers stood frozen to the spot, the only sound coming from the gentle humming of the ship's engines, which permeated every part of the liner. The door handle continued its downward progress. Then the door opened. Simpers expected to see whoever was operating the handle to now appear before him.

  He steeled himself, unsure what was about to happen. He clenched his fists ready to repel any attack.

  The door swung open to reveal an empty, dark, space. From where Simpers was standing, he couldn't get a sense of its depth. Just that it was blackness.

  He waited for his host to appear. Who had opened the door? Why could he not see whoever had depressed the handle?

  He waited.

  Simpers looked at his watch, it was 10 o'clock. The blackness of the door opening revealed an eerie light at deck level. It wasn't strong enough to fill the space. Just bright enough to let Simpers know something lay beyond.

  He stepped forward, checking from side to side to make sure that he was still alone. He gripped the side of the door frame with his left hand. He shone a slim beam of light from the pen torch he always carried with his right hand.

  With a rapid, silent, movement, Simpers stepped through the doorway. He became aware of a wall to his right, which he placed his back against. He could now concentrate on what lay in front of him. The murky cream light caressed the metal deck like a fog creeping across a frozen landscape.

  As Simpers' eyes became accustomed to his murky surroundings, he could just make out the handrail about six feet in front of him. He moved forward taking small steps, his torch illuminating a tiny area of deck. Seconds later the narrow beam of light fragmented as it caught a chequer plate metal stairway. As Simpers peered into the half-light, he saw that the stairs fell away into the depths of the ship.

  Simpers descended the stairway. A sharp clanking sound penetrated the dark space and reverberated off the steel walls as his feet landed on each tread. The murky light he had seen earlier seemed to withdraw into the distance the deeper he descended. He realised its source lay in the hands of the stranger who had invited him. Drawn ever deeper, he moved forward into a strange, dank world. It was devoid of any of the comforts he associated with a luxury cruise liner.

  And now he stood still, waiting for his host to make the next move. He scanned the dark horizon with his inadequate torch. It told him nothing, except that he was alone, almost.

  'So glad you could join me, Detective Inspector Simpers.'

  The detective haunched his shoulders. He tried to determine the direction of the sound. He failed. The deep throated voice that had delivered his welcome seemed to bounce around. There was no echo. The space Simpers inhabited was too small for that. It was more like his tormentor spoke with a stutter. Each word repeated microseconds apart as it hit Simpers' eardrum.

  'Do you recognise my voice, Detective Inspector Simpers?' The man's words were designed to taunt him.

  The fear that Simpers had been experiencing was now replaced by irritation. His police training and too much time spent with villains cut in.

  'As a matter of fact, no I don't. But I'm sure it'll come back to me in due course. You know what they say about elephants and policeman,' replied Simpers in a firm staccato voice.

  'Do you mean that men with guns delight in shooting them,' replied the unseen stranger.

  'Not an original response, my friend. But then your type aren't at all original are you? In fact, in my experience, you're all the same. Stupid, slow and predictable,' replied Simpers as he paced forward in the direction of a now static light source.

  As Simpers traced his progress by keeping his hand on the cold metal surface to his right, he felt it turn at right angles. Turning the corner he glimpsed a bright light on the floor immediately in front of him. He looked down, his eyes fixed on a torch and realised whoever had been holding it had placed it there for a purpose. A shiver shot through his body as he realised it was a trap. Before he could react, he felt a searing pain to the back of his head. He fell to his knees clutching the source of the pain.

  A second blow rained down on him and landed between his shoulder blades. Simpers let out a cry of pain as he caught his breath and fell forward, hitting the cold, metal deck with a sickening thud.

  'Is that predictable enough for you, Detective Inspector Simpers?'

  Simpers waited for the next blow. His head was spinning. Pain coursed through his body. It ricocheted from muscle to muscle as the after-effects of the two blows fought for supremacy over him.

  He sensed somebody moving closer, the vibrations of their footsteps seeping into his cheek as it nestled the deck. Simpers remained still. He watched as a sinister shadow approached. It was backlit from his tormentor’s torch, which still lay motionless on the deck behind him.

  Simpers waited.

  Waited.

  Almost time.

  Now.

  The detective grabbed his abuser's leg as the stranger took a position straddling his body. His move took the villain by surprise. Simpers felt the man trying to pull away as the detective took a firm hold above the knee and delivered a merciless punch to the man's groin.

  The stranger let out a piercing scream and fell backwards as he clutched his scrotum to protect it from further attack.

  Simpers scrambled onto all fours and threw himself onto his attacker. The man, still moaning, but now like an injured bear, fought back. The two men rolled to and fro across the deck unaffected by the blackness engulfing them.

  They traded blows with no quarter given, or expected. Adrenaline took over and as each man rained blows on the other, neither felt pain. Both felt hatred. Simpers was angrier than he had ever been. He wanted to kill his tormentor. There was something about the man's voice that brought out a lethal combination of fear and revenge. Except he didn't understand why he was having such an effect on him. It was beyond mere self defence. Simpers knew how to keep his emotions in check. He remembered too many good coppers who had lost a career and a pension. Just because some worthless villain goaded them into overstepping the mark. But now he understood how they must've felt. His career, his pension, his reputation counted for nothing. He wanted to hurt the man. Hurt him bad.

  Simpers got to his knees and now it was his turn
to straddle. The shadowy outline of his attacker lay on his back, pinned by Simpers' body weight. He could just make out the man's eyes. Wide, glaring, fixed like lasers onto Simpers' contorted facial features.

  Simpers knew he had a choice. The detective had the better of the creature. He could do what he knew he should do and subdue the villain. Or he could kill him. No one would know. He could say he just hit out in the darkness, that the man fell forward and hit his head on some sharp object or other. But how would he explain the marks around his victim's throat?

  Simpers didn't have time to think about his dilemma. The hairs on the back of his neck stood erect. In a split second, he was aware of something, or someone, behind him. He didn't have time to turn. His tormentor's eyes stared just above Simpers' head as the detective grabbed the man's throat. The villain began to smile. Was this fool some form of sadomasochist, Simpers thought. Fear washed over Simpers. What, or who, were the man's eyes focused on.

  Pain, shattering, searing, pain.

  Utter blackness.

  Cold.

  Nothingness.

  ***

  'Get him out of there,' ordered the Commodore.

  'Is he dead?' cried Pippa.

  'The freezers are at -20°. If he's been in there long…

  'I can't feel a pulse.'

  Nurse Knows Best

  Simpers looked around the sterile white room, its shelf-lined walls filled with medical supplies. He tried to sit up. His right arm felt as if it was tied to something. It was – he had a saline drip attached to the crook of his right arm by means of a cannula.

  A tall, elegant, man busied himself checking the detective's blood pressure. Simpers winced as the cuff tightened around his upper left arm.

  'How long have I been in here, doctor?' asked Simpers.

  'A little under eighteen hours. Do you remember anything of what happened?'

  'It's hazy, doctor. I had to meet someone. The room, it was dark. I saw a torch on the floor. That's about it,' replied Simpers.

  Simpers winced again as the blood pressure cuff continued to tighten.

  'I'm sorry,' said the doctor. 'At least it proves your circulation is on the go again. You had a close run thing. A few minutes more and, well, who knows.'

  'I don't know about a close run thing, but I can tell you I'm freezing. Ask the nurse to put another shilling in the meter, will you. Are you trying to save money on heating? And by the way, can I have your potions for headache,' replied Simpers.

  'You being cold has nothing to do with the heating, which is working fine. We found you in the storeroom freezer. Have you any idea how you got there? As for your headache, well, it looks like something, or someone, hit you as hard as hell,' said the doctor.

  'As for the storeroom, no, I don't. My head? There was a voice. And a man, no two… It's just so hazy,' replied Simpers, moaning in pain as he rubbed the back of his head.

  'I did say you had a nasty bump on your head. If you take my advice you'll leave well alone and let it heal,' said the doctor.

  Simpers' mood improved as the doctor released the pressure from the blood pressure cuff and removed it from his arm.

  'Considering what you've been through, your blood pressure is fine. In fact, for your age, it's amazing.'

  Simpers preened himself as the doctor told him his reading. The detective wasn't a vain man, but he thought of the jibes his colleagues often threw his way about his waistline. He knew he'd allowed himself to expand, but since he lusted after Indian takeaways, Simpers concluded the trade-off fair.

  'It's in the genes rather than anything to do with my diet, doctor. Anyway, that reading will do for me. Now, can I get out of here? I've a lot to do,' said Simpers.

  'You're going nowhere. You have a touch of concussion and mild hypothermia. Not the best combination to be scuttling around a ship at sea, would you say?' replied the doctor.

  'But…'

  'But nothing. Here you stay till at least this evening when I'll examine you again. For now get all the rest you can. Do we understand one another?' The doctor's tone of voice dissuaded Simpers from arguing the matter further. But he reckoned he'd get up and go when he decided the time was right, not when some bloke in a white coat said so.

  As the doctor turned to leave the room, Simpers called after him.

  'Oh, doc. Who do I thank for finding me last night?'

  'It was your friend, Miss Pippa Wright-Morton. Lucky for you she had the presence of mind to get the Commodore down there to get you sorted.'

  Simpers' mind began to race as he tried to make sense of it all. He decided the best way to untangle the sequence of events was to call up the last thing he could remember from the previous evening. He remembered being at dinner, and that the person managed to bore the pants off everyone. He also remembered getting up from the table leaving the room. Somewhere, an elevator fitted into the story. It was if a light bulb went off on his head as he recalled reading the note that accompanied the box he'd received earlier that day. Now it made sense. He remembered the invitation. Remember the darkness. He remembered everything.

  One thing that still puzzled him was how Pippa managed to find herself in that cold dark place. He had to find out.

  'Mr Simpers, you look agitated. The doctor told you to get some rest so please, do try to sleep. Simpers watched as the nurse rechecked his saline drip before she too left the room. Perhaps, thought Simpers, he should do as he was told just this once. The quiet that now descended on the room encouraged the detective to pull the bed linen up around his shoulders, and tight into his neckline. As he did so he gave a shiver in response to the cold he felt from the after-effects of the storeroom freezer. Snuggling down into the pillow he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

  ***

  'My brave policeman. What have they done to you?' Pippa whispered as she stroked Simpers' cheek between her fingers and thumb. Her touch was as light as cotton wool on a newborn baby. Her intention was not to disturb the detective as he slept.

  'Pippa? What are you doing here? Have I been asleep long?' said Simpers as he slowly opened his eyes to see his concerned table companion leaning over him.

  'I'm sorry, Mr Simpers, I didn't mean to disturb you,' said Pippa.

  'Not at all, Pippa,' replied Simpers in a low whispery voice as his level of consciousness increased. 'What are you doing here? How long have I been asleep?'

  'So many questions, my lovely policeman. You’ve certainly been through the mill and I think you've earned the couple of hours sleep you've just had. I came down to check that you are warming up, so to speak. I popped in a couple of hours ago when you were spark out so I thought I'd leave you alone for a little while. But I couldn't keep away as you know what they say about a bad penny,' said Pippa.

  She continued to gently stroke Simpers' cheek until he raised himself on his elbows so that he was now in a sort of half sitting position. He was sorry that his move caused Pippa to lift her hand away from his cheek, but didn't feel able to say so to her.

  'I'm one of those bad pennies that keep turning up if what I'm hearing about last night is anything to go by. But what were you doing down there? How did you know where I was?' said Simpers.

  'There you go again. So many questions. If you must know, I watched you leave the dining room after dinner last night and wondered where you were off to. The way you kept looking at the clock and your watch intrigued me, so I followed you. You know what they say about women being nosy, well, I guess I fit the stereotype,' replied Pippa.

  Simpers interrogated Pippa's facial expression and body language for any sign of duplicity. He found none.

  'I'm glad you said that,' said Simpers, 'it saved me saying much the same thing, risking a slap across the chops and accused of being patronising; I know what you ladies are like.' The beginning of a smile spread across his face.

  'You must be feeling better, Mr Simpers. It's nice to see you smile again. By the way, I wouldn't have thought for a moment that you'd have been patronising me.
' She matched Simpers' smile with her own broad grin.

  Simpers enjoyed Pippa's company. He knew it sounded like a cliché but her charm, looks and intellect stirred feelings in him that he thought long buried. The problem was he had no idea what to do about it.

  'Back to that bit about you following me. I didn't hear or see you. The only people I did see, or at least in one case, hear, did this to me. How come you managed to get away scot free?' said Simpers.

  'You've turned back into a Bobby haven't you, Mr Simpers. As it happens I lost you for a little while. And to tell you the truth I don't like the dark. As I stood by the door that I assumed you'd gone through, I heard the commotion. I didn't follow you in; I rang to get help and who should turn up but the Commodore. By the time we found you, well, let's just say you were a little worse for wear. But what were you doing down there?' said Pippa.

  Simpers realised that he had a choice. He could tell Pippa an out and out untruth, or he could confide in her and risk dragging the woman into his dangerous world. This was the reason he preferred to work alone. Simpers had no wish to be responsible for other people. He'd done that for long enough. The issue here was that he had come to realise he would need to put his trust in someone if he was to make headway in the case. But who could you trust? He decided it would be Pippa.

  '…And you're telling me the real gem is still in your safe?' said Pippa as she eagerly took in all that he explained to her.

  'Yes, and there it will stay for the time being,' replied Simpers.

  Simpers had been careful only to brief Pippa on why he thought he'd received a beating the previous evening. He didn't talk about the problems being experienced by the cabin stewards. The truth was he didn't know whether they were different issues or part of the same master plan put together by the man who euphemistically called himself Simpers' 'swimming partner'.

  'I can see that you're tired, my little Bobby. I'll leave you in peace for a little while. Will I see you tonight?' said Pippa.

  'That would be nice but it rather depends on when the doc says I can get out of here,' replied Simpers as he lay back into his pillow and allowed his heavy eyelids to do their work.