by steve higgs
I didn’t want to talk about it. Not really. But I couldn’t come up with a reason why I shouldn’t, so I told him all about my marriage, about my day and admitting how blind I had been and for how long. I managed to keep my emotions in check but I sunk another glass of champagne, saw that the bottle was now empty and ordered another bottle. I was taking Jack’s advice and grasping the opportunity before it was gone. I guess I knew that I was getting quite squiffy, but I really didn’t care. My room, excuse me, rooms were staggering distance from my current location. I would be able to find my way there or I would flag down one of the lovely crew and have them escort me.
Or perhaps they might carry me.
A carry sounded good.
Jack was asking me something. I was trying to concentrate on his words but my eyes were getting really heavy.
‘It looks like we ought to be getting you to bed, Patricia.’
‘Hmmm?’
He reached across the table to put his hand on top of mine where it was resting near my champagne glass. I thought for a moment that he was hitting on me but had to dismiss the idea as ridiculous. Why on earth would he?
‘You seem a little wobbly, my dear. I shall escort you to your lodgings.’
‘That really won’t be necessary,’ I replied. Or at least that was my intended reply, but my teeth seemed to get in the way when I tried to say necessary, the resulting utterance nothing more than a garbled mess. I clambered out of my chair anyway using the table for support. Then I spotted the man with the sunglasses again. He was peering at us over the top of a menu just a couple of tables over. His actions were just as odd as his appearance with the unwarranted eyewear. I pointed a wobbly arm at him. ‘Hey, that guy…’ I didn’t get to finish the sentence because I leaned on the table as my centre of balance shifted and the whole thing flipped over, throwing cutlery, napkins, drinks and everything else on top of me.
Flailing around to get up, smothered by a table cloth I couldn’t escape, I could hear feet hurrying toward me and then had hands helping me up. Jack was being aided by two stewards in uniform and waving them off while assuring them that I was fine.
I tried to apologise for the mess, but probably just sounded drunk. The guy with the sunglasses was gone. Why had he been watching me?
Missing Jewels
When I woke in the morning, I lifted my head to look about, had a moment of panic when I didn’t recognise the room, then remembered where I was and flopped awkwardly over onto my back. Then the memory of the previous evening flooded back to make me groan at my own stupidity. I had a dry mouth from the over-indulged gin and champagne and a terrible sense of embarrassment. Yet again, there was a pitcher of water on the nightstand. It was just out of arms reach, and the effort required to get to it eluded me.
When had I last been drunk? I couldn’t remember. Then horror washed through me as I realised I couldn’t remember getting back to the room, nor how I had got into bed. I lifted the duvet to peer beneath it.
I was in my underwear!
Who the hell had put me to bed? Surely Jermaine wouldn’t have been so bold. So, it must have been Jack. Had he escorted me to the room? Dredging my addled brain for snippets of memory, I flashed on an image of him walking me back to the suite with his arm around me for support and then him rooting in my bag for the door card. I couldn’t remember his hands helping me out of my dress but perhaps that was for the best.
I told myself that I had managed to deal with my clothes by myself and left it at that. I needed to get up though. Unsure even what the time was and the room dark from the blinds and curtains, I slowly twisted my face until I could see the clock beside the bed. It was just after eight.
I wanted to get up, to get moving, to do something with my day that didn’t fall under the banner of feeling miserable for myself. I had promised myself I would lose some weight and reset my life in the few days that I was away, and had then immediately been swayed by the drinks behind the bar and the delicious food on the menu. How much had I spent last night? I couldn’t remember paying. How did it even work on this cruise? It wasn’t all-inclusive, it couldn’t be with the champagne I had been knocking back last night. A quick check of the contents of my purse would reveal what I had spent.
Angry at myself, I forced myself up, ignored the banging at the back of my head and went to the bathroom. I drank several glasses of water as I picked up the abandoned clothes from last night. That my dress and shoes were strewn across the floor, I took as a good indication I had taken them off myself. The dress went onto a hanger which I hooked on the front of a wardrobe door. It needed to be laundered but I couldn’t find a laundry hamper to put it in. There was a note on my nightstand from Jermaine instructing me to ring for him when I was ready. Well, I wasn’t ready yet. I needed to feel more human before I dealt with other people, and I had asked him to arrange a session at the gym with his friend, Barbie, this morning. That was going to have to be pushed back a few hours while my hangover subsided.
My phone pinged, the noise like a knife of guilt stabbing directly into my heart. I hadn’t looked at it since I fled the house yesterday. It had pinged with incoming messages during the drive down to Southampton, but I had ignored it, assuming the texts would be from Charlie.
Reluctantly, I opened my handbag. The screen of the phone was still lit which made it easy to spot. My phone contained no fewer than twenty-seven missed calls and seven text messages. All from Charlie. The first message read:
We need to talk.
That was all he wrote, and it was sent just a few minutes after I had stormed out of Maggie’s house. The next one came more than an hour later when he discovered I was not at home.
Where are you?
The rest of them were along the same lines of he was sorry I had to find out like that and blaming himself for being so awful. He claimed he still loved me and hoped we could get through this difficult time.
The memory of the previous day washed over me like a tidal wave, leaving guilt and sorrow in its wake. What on earth had I been thinking spending so much money on a stupid whim. Charlie would kill me when he found out. My heart ached at the thought of him. He wasn’t perfect, but he was my husband. The only one I thought I would ever need. Should I call him and explain? We would talk about what had happened and… And what, then? I would take him back? I would, wouldn’t I?
My brain ached more from the conflicting emotions than it did from my hangover. I wanted to reset the clock and not know about his affair. Or set it back even further and give him no reason to cheat on me in the first place. But then… How long had it been going on? Had it started while I was still thin? Had he been unfaithful with other women besides Maggie?
Once a cheater, always a cheater. Wasn’t that what they said? He was to blame here. But… wasn’t I to blame also? I couldn’t decide, and I had no one to talk to about it. I needed to put my rings back on though. I felt bad about taking them off.
I was certain I had put them in my purse and I meant to check it to see whether I had spent any money last night. I had no memory of doing so, but it could easily be the case that they put the bill on my room tab or something. I dug though my handbag but couldn’t find my purse where it should be. Perplexed, I questioned what I might have done with it. My rings were in it along with all my credit cards and bank cards and goodness knows what else besides. Had I put my rings in it though? I was more worried about them than the silly bits of plastic that were easily cancelled and replaced. Had I left them in the car? My memory was a bit swiss cheese, but I was sure I remembered seeing them in the purse last night before I set off for dinner.
The next ten minutes was spent rummaging the room. Opening drawers I had definitely not opened before but I checked anyway because I had already checked everywhere else.
The rings weren’t here. Then the answer hit me like a slap to the face.
Jack had taken them along with my purse!
Was it meant to be an extension of the joke about him being a jewe
l thief? If so, I didn’t find it very funny. I pressed the buzzer to summon Jermaine.
‘Good morning, madam,’ he said less than half a second later which made me jump clear out of my skin. He wasn’t in his quarters as I had imagined but was in the next room waiting for me to request his presence.
‘Come in,’ I called, one hand on the surface in front of me to support my weight while my heart restarted. I had managed to find some old sports clothing to put on and a pair of running shoes that had never once been employed for running. I didn’t remember packing any of it, but Jermaine had laid it out neatly for me to find.
‘What can I assist Madam with this morning?’ Jermaine asked, standing almost to attention in my doorway.
His presence in my life as my personal butler was too much to take on top of all the other strangeness. ‘Jermaine, you know I am not royalty, right?’
‘You are to me, madam.’
I sighed. ‘Jermaine, I don’t need a butler, I need a friend. Someone I can talk to. If you call me madam again, I swear I will scream. My name is Patricia.’
He stared at me, his eyes a little wide while he tried to decide what response to give. I held up an index finger. I had more to say. ‘My life turned on its head in the last twenty-four hours. I’m just a simple woman with simple desires. All this,’ I indicated around the room, ‘is too much for me and it is freaking me out. I’m getting off in St Kitts in five days’ time and my only plan between now and then is to relax, lose some of the excess me I have gained and try to patch things up with my husband if I can. Can you help me with that?’
Jermaine allowed his stiff posture to ease away, his shoulders dropping back and down. ‘Yes, mad… Yes, Patricia. It will be my absolute pleasure.’
I nodded my relief. ‘Now, I have something of a problem to deal with.’ His eyebrows lifted, waiting for me to explain. ‘My rings are missing.’
His hand shot to his now open mouth. ‘Oh, my goodness!’ Until that moment, he had been portraying a stiff, British, Downton Abbey version of a butler from a different era. There had been a trace of effeminateness to his voice, but now that his guard was dropped, the full-gay man emerged, his gesticulations suddenly over the top. ‘It’s the jewel thief!’
‘Yes. I met him last night.’
‘Oh, my goodness!’ he exclaimed again, then his expression changed to quizzical. ‘Hold on, how do you know it was the jewel thief you met?’ I had noticed a change in his accent that I was going to have to ask him about.
‘Because he told me that’s who he was. Come on though, I’m pretty sure he uses it as a line to make himself sound dangerous and alluring. His name, assuming it wasn’t fake, is Jack Langley.’ Jermaine was still looking at me in wonder, so I explained a little better. ‘I got a little tipsy last night.’ Actually, I was three sheets to the wind, a good nautical expression, but Jermaine didn’t need to know that. ‘He joined me at the bar, plied me with champagne and escorted me back here. I don’t remember much of it.’ Jermaine’s left eyebrow lifted, probably wondering if there was more to tell. ‘But this morning my purse is missing, and my wedding rings were in it. They are not worth much. Certainly not worth stealing; however, they are mine and I would like them back. Can you help me find him?’
‘Of course. Even if he gave you a false name, I am sure we can track him down using a description.’ He turned and left the room, going back into the living quarters area where he used a telephone on the writing desk to call someone. There was a brief conversation in which he did not reveal why he wanted to find Jack Langley but gave the name and asked if there was a passenger aboard by that name. I could overhear enough that I heard the positive answer and a room number when it was given.
Jermaine thanked the person at the other end and ended the call. ‘He is one deck down on the other side of the ship. I know exactly where he is. How sure are you that he took your rings? Could he have been joking when he said he was a jewel thief?’ They were both fair questions.
I had been full of indignant purpose right up until Jermaine said we could find him. Now I was faced with having to confront the man from last night, the man that I believed had taken my rings and had been bragging about being a jewel thief. Was he? Or was I about to make a complete fool of myself?
‘Perhaps we can just go and have a look?’ I said it as a question.
He nodded, deep in thought. ‘I feel partly responsible,’ he admitted sadly. ‘I should have asked you about jewellery yesterday and secured it in the safe. Let’s put your other precious items into the safe now, shall we?’
It was my turn to nod, although with a wave of embarrassment, I had to admit that I didn’t have anything much of worth with me. There were some diamond earrings that Charlie had given me for our twenty-fifth anniversary and a watch that had some value to it and a few other rings and bracelets that I had grabbed as I ran from the house yesterday. I gathered them up as Jermaine went to an oil painting on the wall in the living area. It was a sea-scape showing the Aurelia under azure blue skies. It swung outwards to reveal a safe behind it, one with a very solid looking door set flush with the wall. I could see a recessed key hole and handle. It was like something from an old spy film.
‘Where’s the key?’ Jermaine asked.
I just looked at him. ‘What key?’
‘The key to the safe. I left it in the door yesterday so that Madam could put her jewellery and other belongings in it. I always leave the door open and the key in it so new occupants can find it easily.’
‘I never left the bedroom yesterday until I went out for dinner. I didn’t even know there was a safe.’
Jermaine pushed the oil painting back into place. ‘This is perplexing.’
‘Could he have known where the safe was and taken the key?’ I asked.
Jermaine was lost in thought. ‘I need to report this,’ he was heading for the phone again.
‘Shouldn’t we check it out first? Maybe ask him if he took my rings? It’s not like he can escape if he is guilty. Otherwise we might get other people involved and end up looking silly.’
Jermaine pursed his lips. ‘Okay. I think that’s a good idea. You don’t think he’s dangerous, do you?’
I hadn’t considered that. ‘No, I don’t think so.’ I couldn’t articulate why I thought that, but he hadn’t come across as someone that would kill us both and stash the bodies in a lifeboat. Jermaine was looking at me, I was looking at him, neither one of us quite sure what to do next. ‘So… do we go?’ I asked.
Jermaine just shrugged. Helpful.
He was six feet and maybe four inches tall and though he was slightly pudgy around the middle, he was still wide around the shoulders and thighs and had the look of someone that could be a member of a SWAT team or a special forces unit. Despite that, he was looking to me for guidance, his comfort zone of butler duties now well behind him. I grabbed my handbag. It didn’t go with my sweatsuit and trainers, but it was what I had. I inclined my head toward the door. ‘Let’s go.’ Jermaine might be as gay as they came, but he was still a big man and I would feel safer confronting Jack if I had Jermaine standing next to me.
Jack Langley
With Jermaine in the lead, we easily navigated our way to the room Jermaine said was Jack’s. I was hopelessly lost though, without Jermaine or a map or maybe some breadcrumbs to find my way back, it might take me a week just to find my suite again.
Just one deck below mine, the rooms were still opulent and expensive explained Jermaine, so whoever Jack was, he had some money. Especially if he had been on board for as long as he claimed.
Approaching his room number, it was clear the door was ajar. Would we catch him coming out and have to confront him in the corridor? Quickening my step, I closed the distance to his door and reached it before anyone came out. Then I slowed and sort of peeked through the gap between door and frame while listening for noise.
‘Cooee,’ called Jermaine from so close to my ear that it felt that the sound had originated inside my h
ead. I jumped and slapped his arm. ‘Sorry,’ he whispered. ‘I’m a little on edge.’
His call had been loud enough to alert anyone inside, so I tapped the door and called out myself as I took a tentative step inside the room. There was no answer though. There never would be. Not from Jack anyway. If I had been chewing gum, this would be the point that it tumbled from my open mouth. In front of me there were cleaning supplies spilled all over the floor where the cleaning person had dropped them upon seeing Jack’s dead body. It explained the open door, but also suggested that someone was currently alerting other people to the murder; might as well call it that since I doubted Jack had tripped and stuffed a knife up to the hilt in his own back.
‘Psst!’ Jermaine was trying to get me to come back out of the room. I was just inside the door, no more than a pace from the corridor. Rather than obey Jermaine’s urgent gesticulations, I moved to the side, so he could see around me and into the cabin. ‘What is it?’ he asked, suddenly curious.
Then his face froze for a spilt second, the spell broken when he started to scream. I clamped my hand over his mouth. ‘Shhhh!’ I had never seen a dead body before, never seen this much blood for that matter, but I was strangely calm. Beside me, Jermaine was all but hyperventilating. I pushed him against the wall in concern that he might faint, patted his arm and took a few more steps into the room.
