Diamond in the Blue: D.I. Simpers Investigates

by Phil Kingsman

  Simpers shoulders dropped. He seemed to physically shrink into his frame as he looked at Pippa.

  'Does any other organisation know why you're on board… The police for example?' said Simpers.

  'As I said, Mr Simpers, it's complicated. Soon I'll be able to tell you more, but for now…' replied Pippa.

  'I trusted you, Pippa,' said Simpers. His eyes no longer met the woman sitting next to him.

  'Simpers, we're both trained not to trust anyone. But I can tell you this. I may have been sent here to shadow you. But I've come to… well… anyway, you'll soon understand that you can trust me,' said Pippa.

  Pippa's voice became a whisper as she finished speaking the words to Simpers. As she did so he raised his head to acknowledge her. He noticed a sparkle in her eyes but this time it was not a reflection of the cloudless sky outside. This time it was sunlight refracting through a tear dropping onto her cheek. He'd seen women cry before and it had moved him. He was used to being manipulated by tears, but there was something different about Pippa's show of emotion. He finally knew that she meant what she was saying.

  Their eyes locked together, each moved forwards imperceptibly to the other. For a brief second Simpers allowed his emotions to get the better of him. It was as if she was mirroring Simpers' own thoughts. Then Pippa blinked. She stopped moving towards the detective, moved her upper body slowly backwards, then gently got to her feet.

  She brushed Simpers' arm with the open palm of her hand as she made her way to the cabin door. This time it was her looking back at him as she glided through the doorway and allowed the cabin door to close quietly behind her, the lock snapping smartly back into place.

  Simpers remained on the bed. He glanced through the large expanse of glass and surveyed the endless sea in front of him. The site failed to move him and after a minute or so, he returned his gaze to the richly piled carpet beneath his feet.

  The detective felt betrayed by Pippa. Could it be, he thought, that his superior, a man he respected, had also kept her presence from him?

  It seemed to him that nothing of the last few days was how it had appeared. How could he have got this case so utterly wrong, he thought.

  Simpers remained slouched on the edge of the bed. He took the lucky pebble from his pocket and thumbed it aimlessly. For now, he didn't know what to do.

  Three Across, Two Down

  'Do you really need me at this stupid dancing class of yours?' said Jonathan as he trailed behind Amelia like an unwilling child made to go shopping with its mother.

  'I told you over breakfast, I've no intention of going to the class on my own. Women of my age on their own will get hassled by a geriatric bloke with a wonky knee and flatulence. And if I can't attract one of those buggers, the ultimate embarrassment awaits; being 'escorted' by one of the ship's entertainments team – and I'm not having that,' replied Amelia.

  As they approached the ornately etched glass doors of the Pavilion Lounge, Jonathan tried one last time to escape his fate.

  'I just need to nip to the loo; I'll only be a few minutes,' said Jonathan in a less than convincing tone.

  'Nip to the loo my foot.' Amelia grabbed Jonathan's hand and pulled him through the door and into the wide expanse of the lounge.

  'Isn't that the name of a song,' said Jonathan, as he gave in to Amelia's demand and looked nervously at the two dozen or so people standing in the middle of the sprung dance floor.

  'Isn't what the name of a song. What on earth you talking about?'

  'You know, nip to the loo my foot,' replied Jonathan.

  'You're a daft lad when you want to be. I assume you mean Skip to My Lou My Darlin,' said Amelia.

  'Did I?' replied Jonathan wearing a baffled look.

  'I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt that you did, rather than you just being stupid,' replied Amelia giving Jonathan one of her now customary looks of mock admonishment. 'Of course you knew that Skip to My Lou My Darlin is all about swapping dance partners – so you see, you're much cleverer than you think.'

  'Am I,' replied a still baffled Jonathan. 'In that case, can't you swap me for–'

  'No I can't, so let's have no more of your whinging. Stand here with me so I can see what's going on,' interrupted Amelia.

  Jonathan gave no further resistance. Amelia had won, again.

  For the next ten minutes or so the two soul-mates stood around while the dance instructors talked the assembled group through the finer points of the tango. As they listened, Amelia and Jonathan noticed several couples mimicking hand and foot movements of the instructors, as if shadowboxing in preparation for the big fight.

  'Is he going to drone on like this for much longer? My back's aching through standing up for so long. Any chance of a shandy?' moaned Jonathan.

  'Be quiet will you, I'm trying to listen,' said Amelia before continuing, '…And don't try to pull that 'I've got a bad back' trick with me. If you're a good chap I'll buy you a bloody shandy when we've done. Now pay att–' replied Amelia before being interrupted by the sound of dance music bouncing out of the speakers.

  'Now it's your turn, ladies and gentlemen,' said one of the dance instructors as he strained his vocal chords to be heard above the music, 'please, take a partner and watch Cynthia and me as we demonstrate the steps. And remember, short, sharp movements with lots and lots of passion. You are Latin lovers, are you not?'

  Jonathan was less than amused to be thought of as a Latin lover. The look on Amelia's face told him he wouldn't have had any chance anyway.

  'Come along, Jonathan, get hold of me, I won't break,' said Amelia as she grabbed the young man and pulled him into the starting position for the dance.

  For the next few minutes the two friends tripped their way from one side of the dance floor to the other, turning 360° at each end to make the return journey. The scene was chaotic as the group, all of whom were new to the dance, did their best to avoid colliding with each other.

  'If that fat geezer crashes into me one more time I'll…' said Jonathan between gritted teeth as he gave the man a look that could kill.

  'Now, now, Jonathan. Calm down, you know what will happen if you start to get frustrated,' replied Amelia.

  Jonathan's temper didn't improve as the minutes passed. Time and time again other hapless dance students stood on his toes, bumped his shoulder and made other unintentional assaults on the two of them. Finally, Jonathan could take no more.

  'Big tits, fat face, bugger,' Jonathan shouted.

  Amelia looked Jonathan square in the eye, giving him the reassuring look he'd come to appreciate. No one around them seemed to have noticed his outburst, the volume of the music doing its job in disguising his verbal tic. Just as he seemed to be coming down, wallop. The fat man unintentionally sideswiped the young man again. This time Jonathan's right arm pulled itself away from Amelia. As it completed its rapid curving action until it was ramrod straight at an open angle of around 45°, Amelia ducked to once more evade the wayward limb. At the same time Jonathan gave a sharp sideways movement. The one arm that was still firmly attached to Amelia caused her to follow him as his thrusts continued.

  'Excellent, excellent. That's what I want. Passion,' said the dance instructor as he observed the couples unusual dance movements.

  Amelia moved position so that she could wrap her arms around Jonathan's back and pull him into her. Her comforting hold did the trick and Jonathan quickly returned to his former demeanour.

  'It seems we have won the approval of our dance instructor, Jonathan. I think you've earned a shandy now, don't you?' said a smiling Amelia.

  Jonathan didn't need telling twice. He mirrored his dance partner's smile. As the couple left the lounge, they glanced over their shoulders to observe a scene of continuing pandemonium.

  ***

  'Look over there, Jonathan, It's the Deputy Captain. I'd have thought he'd have better things to do than sit around chatting all day,' said Amelia.

  She had spotted the officer sitting in a far corner of
the bar. He seemed to be in deep conversation with another man who was writing notes at a furious speed. As the Deputy Captain spoke, the other man nodded his head as if taking instruction. From time to time the other man would begin to speak, emphasising his words by pointing the blunt end of his pencil at the officer. The man's movements did not seem to intimidate the officer who, instead, seemed to give back as good as he was getting.

  'Perhaps he knows the bloke,' said Jonathan, before continuing, 'are they supposed to socialise anyway?'

  Jonathan was more interested in his pint of shandy than playing at private detectives. He remembered how that ended last time.

  'I don't think it's a social occasion, Jonathan. Just look at the body language. Does the Deputy Captain look relaxed to you. In fact, he looks quite irritated.'

  'Can't we just enjoy our drink? First you drag me to a stupid dance lesson. Now you're going all nosy on me again, and it's not even 11 o'clock yet. Are you going to be like this all day? said Jonathan.

  'All I'm saying is, I've got my suspicions about the Deputy Captain. I don't think he likes our Mr Simpers. And if he doesn't like our friend, then I don't like him. What if he's got something to do with Mr Simpers being attacked?' said Amelia.

  Jonathan spluttered into his pint as Amelia's words sank in.

  'What makes you think he had anything to do with that? That's like saying, well, he's in charge, so he must be personally responsible,' replied Jonathan.

  'Well, come to think of it, you might be onto something there. After all, he's in a position of power isn't he? Perhaps he's got people to do his dirty work for him,' said Amelia.

  Jonathan was too busy enjoying his pint to listen to any more of Amelia's hypothesis. As his friend had continued to offer him her conclusions, the young man had busied himself watching the other passengers as they shuffled through the bar on their way to the morning bingo session.

  'Have you ever won at that?' said Jonathan.

  'Wondered what? What ARE you talking about,' replied Amelia, irritated that his question had interrupted her analysis of the Deputy Captain and the stranger.

  'Bingo. What did you think I was talking about?' said Jonathan.

  'Bingo,' replied Amelia as she offered Jonathan one of her searing looks. 'I'd rather have my teeth pulled with a piece of string around the door knob, than listen to somebody shouting 'clickety click, all the sixes' at me for hours on end.

  'So that would be no, then?' offered Jonathan.

  'Drink your pint, Jonathan,' replied Amelia. Jonathan, smiled, then did as he was told.

  Twenty minutes passed during which the two friends relaxed and enjoyed their hobby of people watching. Just as Amelia downed the last of her drink, she noticed the man in the corner getting to his feet. As he did so he picked up the pad that he had been using for his frantic writing with the Deputy Captain, but left the newspaper he had been reading.

  'Quick, Jonathan. Let's get going. I want to look at what that man was doing,' said Amelia.

  The young man shot Amelia a quizzical look as he realised if he didn't get a move on, she would be off, and he'd have to leave the last of his drink – again.

  'What man?' replied Jonathan.

  'The man who was sitting with the Deputy Captain. He's leaving.'

  Having emptied his pint glass more quickly than he'd wanted to, Jonathan turned to see Amelia making off across the bar. He followed.

  'See, I told you that man was up to no good,' said Amelia.

  The few seconds it had taken Amelia to cross the room saw her peering at the ship's daily newspaper, which the man had left. The A4 black-and-white news sheet consisted of around eight pages which covered a variety of British and international news. The paper also included a daily crossword puzzle and it was this page to which Amelia was paying particular attention.

  'Look,' said Amelia, 'see what he's written here. It's got to be a clue of some sort.'

  Jonathan switched his look between Amelia and the open page of the paper she was holding, complete with tea stain from where the man's cup and saucer had been resting.

  'But it's a crossword puzzle, Amelia. So it's full of clues, isn't it?'

  Amelia extended her arm and wafted the paper under Jonathan's chin.

  'Not the crossword, silly. It's what he's written in the margin,' Amelia replied.

  Job, money, control, Yalta.

  Jonathan now held the increasingly crumpled puzzle in his hands.

  'I don't get it. He hasn't put any of these words in the crossword. That means he was just doodling,' said Jonathan.

  'When you doodle, you’re generally drawing a picture, writing words down. And you're right, none of these can be used in a crossword. It must've been to do with what he and the Deputy Captain were discussing. And we need to find out what they're both up to,' replied Amelia.

  Jonathan shot Amelia a weary look as he feared what the rest of the day now had to offer.

  'But, Amelia. You know what happened last time. What's to say you've not got the wrong end of the stick again. I don't think Mr Simpers would be happy at all, do you?'

  'I have a gut feeling about this. You know what they say about women's intuition. Well, I've got a bag full of it this time. And as I said before, we have to look out for our Mr Simpers. Now come on, we need to catch up with that man,' said Amelia.

  ***

  Over the course of the two hours that followed, the two friends stalked the man around the ship. Heightening Amelia's curiosity, the man would often stand or sit for a few minutes, depending on his location, then write copious notes on his notepad. From time to time he would stop and talk to other passengers. On several occasions he made a point of engaging the ship's crew in what seemed intense discussions. On one occasion a steward seemed keen to break away from his inquisitor, but appeared held in the man's verbal grip as he first shot questions at the young man, then recorded the results on his pad.

  'I've had enough of this,' said Amelia, 'I've got to tackle him and make the man tell me what he's up to.'

  Before Amelia had chance to make good her threat, the man made off down the promenade deck and rounded the corner at the back of the ship. Amelia and Jonathan followed. Just as they gained sight of the stranger he again disappeared as he rounded a second corner which took him to the starboard side of the ship.

  As the two would-be private investigators also rounded the corner, they were taken aback by the force of the wind coming straight at them as they looked down the immense length of the deck.

  'Bloody hell,' said Amelia, 'I'd forgotten how the wind can vary from one side of the ship to the other. I suppose it makes sense really depending on the wind direction and the heading that the ship is taking.'

  'If you say so,' replied Jonathan, catching his breath and leaning in to the wind to keep himself upright.

  As the two friends walked side-by-side, they linked arms as a defence against the prevailing conditions. They were astonished to pass a group of passengers fighting against the elements to play deck quoits – and seemingly enjoying the unequal battle. It was all Jonathan and Amelia could do to keep their eyes open as wisps of salt spray stung their faces.

  'Where's he gone,' gasped Amelia, as she fought to get the words out of her mouth against the rush of wind. 'Look, that door's closing. He must have gone through. Quick, let's get a move on.'

  In an instant, all was calm as they allowed the door to close behind them. The two friends looked around them, trying to take in where they were. For sure, it wasn't in a passenger area since the decor was sparse and industrial. They followed a narrow corridor and came across an opening, which had a curtain pulled across that acted as a door.

  'Shhh,' said Amelia, 'We need to be quiet. I bet he's in here. I'm going to pull the curtain across and find out what the hell he's up to.'

  'Amelia,' replied Jonathan in the quietest voice he could muster, 'I don't think this is a good idea. I think we should…'

  Before Jonathan could finish his protestation, Am
elia had wrenched the curtain to one side to reveal a startled man staring back at them. Their quarry was sat at a utilitarian desk within the small, spartan space.

  The man looked terrified at Amelia's verbal onslaught.

  'What are you doing? We been watching you for hours – and we saw you with the Deputy Captain. What's all that writing you've been doing? And what about those notes on the crossword puzzle, eh?'

  'I, I don't kn… know what you're talking about. Who are you? What do you want?'

  The man seemed to physically shrink into his chair and as far away from Amelia as he thought he could get. His eyes darted to the tiny vertical space between Amelia and the wall. He soon realised any hope of escape was hopeless.

  'I'm asking the questions. Now tell me what are you up to?' said Amelia. Her large frame dominated the space, and in particular, the small bald-headed man now looking up to her like a child being scalded by its mother. Jonathan seemed pleased that, for once, it wasn't him on the end of her tongue lashing.

  'What's going on here? What's all this noise about?'

  Amelia ceased her interrogation. She turned to see the Deputy Captain in the narrow corridor. She felt two pairs of eyes burning into the back of her head, the owners of which had their own, very different reasons for feeling embarrassed.

  The diminutive man now found his voice.

  'Deputy Captain. These two say they've been following me for hours. The woman keeps asking me all sorts of daft questions about crossword puzzles and writing things down,' offered the man.

  The Deputy Captain looked to Jonathan from time to time and kept a measured distance from the young man's reach. He was determined that one bloody nose on this cruise was enough. He needn't have been concerned. Jonathan was enjoying the experience of Amelia getting the wrong end of the stick again.