Diamond in the Blue: D.I. Simpers Investigates

by Phil Kingsman

  For what seemed an eternity, the two young men continued to stare unseeingly at the coffee table. Then slowly, almost imperceptibly, their heads tilted towards one another until they were able to exchange the merest of glances. Malin sat back into his chair. Joki remained hunched over the tabletop. Both now looked at the Commodore. Accepting the senior officer's reassuring posture, both men made eye contact with Simpers.

  'The thing that I know is that none of us have ever seen this person,' said Malin, his voice hesitant.

  'I understand,' offered Simpers, 'but any information you can give me will help. For instance, how do you make contact with the man? That sort of thing. So just talk and imagine you’re explaining something to your best friend.'

  Simpers' idea struck a chord with Malin and, combined with the safe surroundings of the Commodore's day room, the young steward began to open up.

  'As far as contacting the man is concerned, he told us to place our name badge in a special place on the promenade deck,' said Malin

  'Isn't that a bit obvious, and don't you get into trouble for not wearing your badge?' said Simpers.

  'Each of us has a spare name badge, so no. As for it being an obvious place, I don't know why he wanted it in a passenger part of the ship. All I do know is that because of the way the badge is positioned, you can see it very easily if you know where to look,' replied Malin.

  'Whoever he is,' offered Simpers, 'he's no fool. I suspect it means he can pass the place without anyone, including the crew, knowing what he's up to.'

  'Whoever placed the badge will then get a telephone call and told what to do. And Mr Simpers, we have no choice but to do what this man says. Each time we sign on as crew, we are on a fixed-term contract. When it finishes and we go home, we wait to see if the cruise line will re-engage us. But…'

  '…I'm sorry to interrupt you,' replied Simpers, before continuing, 'I thought many of you had worked for the cruise line for years?'

  'Some of us have, but that just means we have been called back and given a new contract many times. The problem is, when you get a new contract, you may not be in the same job that you were last time. Sometimes, if you don't pay this man, or do things he wants, you may be put somewhere where the work is harder, and the pay lower.'

  'But I can't believe the company would let that happen. They must know what goes on?' said Simpers.

  'It's not the company's fault,' said Malin. 'We are recruited through agents. They are paid a commission by the company, to make sure the ship has a full complement of staff at certain grades. In the past, some of us have spoken to the company, and they try their best, but nothing changes,' said the Commodore's steward.

  'He's right,' said the Commodore as he strolled over to a coffee percolator that sat on the side table nearby. Instinctively, Malin sprang to his feet.

  'That's quite all right, Malin. I'll pour. Would anybody else like a cup?'

  Simpers declined the offer. The two stewards looked confused, then also declined.

  'As I hinted, this isn't the first time we've had a problem. We do as much as we can, but it's hard to get the stewards to finger the culprits. You have my assurance, Detective Inspector, that neither I, or the company, condone what is going on. If you can help us in any way we would be most grateful.'

  'I'm puzzled, Commodore. You didn't mention this when we first met,' Simpers replied.

  'You're correct, and for that I apologise. The company has been attempting to get to the bottom of this for some time, and wanted it kept quiet. But when Joki disappeared, we knew it had to be stopped once and for all.'

  The Commodore looked at his stewards, urging them to continue with their explanation.

  'Joki placed a note in your jacket pocket the other day to ask for your help,' said Malin with impeccable diction.

  'Yes, he did. Did you tell him to do that?' said Simpers.

  'I did. He looks to me; they all look to me because of my position. And I have a responsibility to them. Most are inexperienced and spend a long time away from their families – wives and children. Sometimes it can be up to ten months. It can be very hard, Mr Simpers, sir.'

  'I understand what you're saying, Malin. But Joki was lucky. If we hadn't found him when we did… well, who's to say what would have happened. But next time – and there will be a next time, someone will get killed.'

  'What do we need to do, Detective Inspector,' asked the Commodore.

  Simpers sat back in his chair and stroked its rich leather armrests with the palm of his hands. He made eye contact with each of the other men in turn and made no distinction for rank.

  'We have to set a trap to catch this villain – because remember, that's what he is. But to do that I need you, Malin, and Joki, to help me,' said Simpers in an earnest tone of voice.

  The stewards looked nervously at each other, then turned to the Commodore. It was if they were seeking a verbal cuddle from their commanding officer. The Commodore didn't disappoint. Delicately placing his coffee on the low table that separated the officer from his men, he offered a reassuring smile and began to speak.

  'I give you my personal promise that no one will hurt you again on this ship. And I need you to trust Mr Simpers,' said the Commodore.

  The two young men gave the merest nod of their heads in acknowledgement of the Commodore's assurances.

  'We want to do this together,' said Malin as he turned to his friend. 'We don't want to be separated… I mean…' For once, Malin's diction faltered as he tried to explain how the two friends felt.

  'Don't worry, Malin. The plan that I have involves you both being joined at the hip for the rest of the day. You'll be able to see and talk to each other every step of the way.'

  The look on the steward's face told Simpers they hadn't understood the anatomical nuance of his words, but did respond to his sentiments.

  The Commodore, sensing that his stewards had agreed to help Simpers, did his best to now lighten the atmosphere within the day room.

  'But remember, Detective Inspector. Joki, here, has already had a nasty fright. Please keep an eye on Malin, or I should have no one to make my tea if…'

  The stewards and their superior exchanged an easy smile that displayed a fondness, and loyalty, between them.

  'Well, that wouldn't do at all, would it?' replied Simpers as he joined in the gallows humour. 'Now, let me explain what I want each of you to do…'

  ***

  'Are you clear on your instructions?' said Simpers as he spoke softly into a concealed microphone. He sat, partially concealed by a vertical steel pillar, in the corner of the crew rest area.

  Malin and Joki looked anxious as they listened to the detective through a small earpiece they were each wearing. The large social space was busy with staff enjoying a break from their ten-hour shifts. Some played pool on one of several tables. Others were enjoying a snack, while a small group enjoyed a drink and each other's company around the bar.

  'But he won't come in here. He won't show himself. We don't even know who he is, so how will we recognise him?' said Malin into his own tiny microphone. Joki stood next to the Commodore's steward, self-conscious from the battered state of his face.

  'Believe me, Malin. If I've got the measure of this chappy right, he'll respond to the offer of cash,' replied Simpers. 'Now remember what I said, try to relax and do exactly as you would normally do down here.'

  The two young men did their best to follow the detective's instructions. First they tried a hand of cards, but found it hard to concentrate on the intricacies of the game. Then chess, which also failed to hold their attention. In the end they resorted to staring at the large TV monitor attached to the wall opposite.

  After twenty minutes even Simpers thought his plan had failed. Perhaps the mysterious man he was after was already in the room, and had caught on to the detective's presence. As Simpers methodically worked through possible scenarios in his mind, he caught sight of a dining room steward who had served the detective lunch a few days previously, appro
aching Malin and Joki.

  She handed Joki a piece of paper. Without glancing at its contents, he passed it to Malin who opened and read the note.

  'What does it say?' said Simpers urgently. He was aware that anybody watching him would think he was the worse for drink and talking to himself.

  He could see Malin and Joki scanning the room trying to identify a man they'd never seen.

  'He tells us to bring the money and meet him in the compactor room,' replied Malin.

  Simpers could well understand why Joki had a look of panic. Given the state he was left in the last time he was in that room, the last thing in the world Joki would want to do, would be to willingly go back into that place.

  'Go now. Have you got the money?' said Simpers.

  The two young men continued to look around the room nervously, even though logic and past experience told them their tormentor would not be there.

  'It's Joki, Mr Simpers, sir, he, he doesn't…'

  'I know,' whispered the detective into his microphone, 'but he has to. If he doesn't join you, our chappy will think you've rumbled him and it would be much more dangerous for you if you go alone. Remember, I'll be just a few yards behind you, and the Commodore has reinforcements ready. I say again; time to go, Malin.'

  The detective's words did the trick. Malin and Joki rose hesitantly from their seats and walked towards the exit. As they did so, both men looked over their shoulders towards Simpers, each reassured to see him also moving position. With that the two stewards passed through the wide doorway and made their way to the compactor room.

  As Simpers strode passed the bar, he suddenly heard a raised voice immediately behind him.

  'And what the fuck are you doing down here? This is a crew area, this is, and you're not invited.'

  Simpers turned around to see a drunken staff member moving forwards to square up to him. The detective's only thought was to avoid an argument. He knew even a few seconds wasting now could have serious implications for Malin and Joki. He had to get away from the man.

  'I've told you, pal. This is fucking crew area this is. You've got your space upstairs we can't go in, so you lot can't come in here. So fuck off,' said the drunkard.

  The man's face, purple with rage, was inches from Simpers. It took all of the detective's training and restraint, not to react to the provocation. Each time the man moved forwards, Simpers took a step back, doing his best to keep a safe zone between the two of them. He knew that if he was assaulted he would have to react.

  'Come on, you tosser.'

  The voice came from one of the man's drinking partners who, along with the rest of the group, were now striding forwards to restrain their wayward friend.

  'No offence, mate. He's a good lad, but when he has had a pint, well…' said the man.

  Simpers' relief was palpable as he sensed an opportunity to extricate himself from the situation.

  'No problem. I'm sorry, it's my fault. Someone asked me to meet in here and I didn't give it a second thought. First-time cruiser, you know. You could call me a virgin, sort of,' replied Simpers, working hard to lighten everyone's mood.

  His approach worked as the drunkard's friends grabbed him and pulled away from the detective. With one last flash of a curled lip and a breathless expletive, the man was dragged back to the bar and placated with another pint. Simpers, sensing the wasted seconds, ran from the crew area, much to the amusement of everyone in the room. This wasn't, Simpers reasoned, a time for pride to get in the way of events.

  As Simpers quietly stepped into the compactor room, his ears were assaulted by the tumult of the recycling machinery going about its business. In the gloom, he could just make out Malin and Joki. They were standing to one side of a small conveyor belt that was feeding one of the monsters.

  Then the room fell silent. The machines came to a standstill. All that remained was the familiar resonating hum of the ship's engines.

  'Have you brought the money with you?'

  The menacing voice spoke from the darkness. Malin and Joki looked around in an attempt to locate its source. They were unsuccessful.

  'Place the bag on the belt. Do it now,' said the voice.

  Simpers maintained his position. He knew he couldn't afford to move until the stranger stepped from the shadows.

  Malin did as he was instructed. Retrieving a small package from the inside pocket of his immaculate white jacket, the young man placed it on the rubberised surface to his left.

  'Can we go now,' said Joki. It was the first time he'd spoken all evening. His eyes seemed to be fixed on the location of the beating he'd recently received.

  'No. Stand still. I have some questions for you,' said the voice.

  Fear now gripped the two stewards. They couldn't see Simpers. Had he broken his promise? Who else was in this room beside the voice that could hurt them?

  A figure emerged cautiously from the shadows, the huge compacting machines providing perfect cover for their tormentor.

  Simpers watched as the man shuffled into the murky light and stood facing the two terrified stewards. There was less than six feet between them. They immediately recognised the man, and knew this must mean they wouldn't be allowed to leave the room alive.

  'What do you want from us,' said Malin. 'You have the money. Now let us go.'

  'You're not going anywhere. I told you not to tell anyone about our little arrangement. People who don't keep their promises end up getting hurt.'

  Simpers realised he had to move quickly. For all he knew, the man could have others ready to do his bidding. One thing was for sure, he knew the man had no intention of letting Malin or Joki go free.

  Slowly, cautiously, Simpers crept up on the man. As he moved closer, he desperately hoped the cabin stewards wouldn't give the game away by moving their eye line away from the man, and towards him. It was no good. It was too much to ask for. As Simpers got to within a few feet of striking distance, the man realised his prey's attention had shifted. He turned. As he did so he pushed Malin backwards so that he fell against the controls of the compacting machine. The behemoth sprang noisily into life. The conveyor belt began moving.

  The man shot Simpers a menacing look, but then immediately turned his attention to the package, which was now moving forwards into the compactor. The distraction allowed Simpers to throw a punch at the man that floored him.

  'The money, the money,' cried the man, seemingly oblivious to the pain Simpers' punch must have inflicted.

  As he lay on the floor, the man stretched both arms out grabbing at thin air. His eyes bulged as he watched the package disappear into the compactor.

  'You bastard, my money,' hissed the man.

  'The money? Oh, you mean the pile of newspaper off cuts you've just sent for recycling. Well done in doing your bit for the environment. I'll ask the judge to take that into account as mitigating circumstances, shall I?' said Simpers as he looked at the dejected man on the floor. He turned his attention to Malin and Joki.

  'Okay, it's safe to come out now. I don't think chappy is going to hurt anyone for a long time to come,' added Simpers, offering a wide smile to the two young men.

  ***

  'I know you. You were the chap who bumped into me in the corridor the other night. At least it makes sense now why you didn't feel the kick I gave you. Have you had that tin leg for long?' said Simpers.

  The dejected man threw Simpers a scornful look as he sat in the comparative luxury of the Commodore's day room. Simpers was unsure if it was his line of questioning, or the unfamiliar surroundings that were intimidating the man.

  'And thinking back, it must've been you that tried to tip the young woman I was with overboard as we left Westbay. Am I correct?'

  'It wasn't the girl I was after. It was you.' His tone now markedly less malicious as the seriousness of the situation dawned.

  'It wasn't down to me. I was doing what I was told.'

  'Then in that case, and if there's any sense in that fat head of yours, you'll tell me who you
're working for. Do you understand me?'

  The man fell quiet. How could it have come to this, he pondered as he absorbed the stern look from the Commodore, who was sat in his usual place at the head of his conference table.

  'I've worked for this company for thirty years. Always had a clean record. Kept my nose clean, see. Then, three years ago, I had an accident, I…'

  'Now I remember,' interrupted the Commodore. 'You’re Bellwether, aren't you. Didn't you fall in to one of the compactors? Never did understand how you managed that.'

  The man looked down at his prosthetic leg forlornly. Rubbing the appliance knowing full well he couldn't feel anything.

  'I don't think you managed anything, did you? Someone told you to do something that resulted in you losing your leg. Am I right? The thing is if that was me, I'd want whoever was responsible, to pay. After all, it can't have been easy trying to manage these last three years, could it?' said Simpers, his voice filled with sympathy for the man. The detective's ploy worked. The man began to talk.

  'I never wanted to get mixed up in this stuff. I told him. I'm no crook. But he promised me. I've got a wife and kid you know. Before this I had a good job onboard. It paid well. Now I'm on the lowest grade. He promised me a good job if I kept my mouth shut. He…'

  'Who is, 'he'?' interrupted Simpers. The detective sat down next to the man and placed a hand on his shoulder. 'Tell me everything you know. It's the best thing to do. Haven't you suffered enough?'

  The man once again reacted positively to the understanding he thought he was getting from Simpers. As far as Simpers was concerned, it was a well proven technique.

  'The Purser. It's…' said the man.

  'The Purser,' boomed the Commodore, almost unable to accept the words he was hearing. 'Are you seriously telling me my Purser is behind this racket? You must be mad. Now tell the truth or I'll…'

  'I think this man has been used. Am I right, my friend?' said Simpers, wasting no time in cutting off the Commodore's line of attack. The last thing he wanted was for the villain to stop talking.