‘Berry,’ I said, icily. I don’t remember inviting you to visit me.’
‘I don’t need an invitation,’ he said.
‘So you can walk into anyone’s stateroom or cabin when you please?’
‘I can. You will recall that I’m the security officer on board.’
‘Does this give you the same rights as an officer serving in the police force ashore?’
‘As far as I’m concerned, it does.’
I did not agree. I was incensed at the intrusion. ‘Now would you kindly leave? I want to put on some warmer clothes.’
Geoff Berry stepped forward, something silvery glinting in his hand.
‘Are these your scissors?’ he asked.
I nodded. ‘So what? Every woman has a pair of scissors, always useful. Cut a bit of this, cut a bit of that. Nails, hair, anything.’
‘Or stab a bit of someone, or stab a bit of someone else?’ he said nastily.
‘That’s not a nice thing to say.’
‘Your scissors still have shreds of white cotton caught between the blades. Bits of white cotton that I reckon we are going to match to Joanna Carter’s bathrobe.’
‘I don’t believe a word. You’re making it up.’
‘You wait and see, Jordan Lacey. I’m going to prove that you murdered Joanna Carter.’
FIFTEEN
Tromso
I was stunned but came back fighting. ‘So what? I may have cut a loose thread off the hem of my bathrobe. That doesn’t mean I stabbed Joanna. You are being quite ridiculous. Now will you kindly go. I want to change.’
‘I’m taking you along with me for further questioning. I am not satisfied with your attitude, Jordan. Once a troublemaker, always a troublemaker.’
Geoff Berry had not forgotten that I complained about his slack methods and paltry record-keeping all those years ago. His resentment had been festering in a corner of his brain and now he had the perfect opportunity for retaliation. How he must be enjoying himself.
‘I have no intention of going anywhere with you.’
‘Then I shall confine you to your cabin until further notice.’
‘You have no right to do that. I shall demand to see the captain.’ How dare he? What a nerve.
‘I am going to prove that these scissors cut Joanna Carter’s bathrobe in a stabbing movement and caused her death. You, Jordan Lacey, arc going to find yourself on a murder charge.’
‘On such flimsy evidence, I doubt it,’ I said, with more confidence than I felt. ‘Anyone could have used those scissors. Anyone could have planted cotton threads between the blades. You haven’t got a leg to stand on. Not even two legs.’
‘You’ll be sorry you’ve spoken to me like this,’ said Geoff Berry unpleasantly. ‘I’m going to lock you in your stateroom until I have contacted the captain and I am requisitioning these scissors. I trust you have a long book to read.’
A nasty reference to the fact that I like reading, something which he was unable to understand, being a sports pages only man.
‘Shouldn’t you have worn gloves, Security Officer Berry?’ I said. ‘Your prints are all over those scissors.’
He didn’t answer. He went out of A710, noisily locking the door from the outside. He’d forgotten about the communicating door between the two staterooms. I could easily get out of A708. He hadn’t locked that one.
‘You haven’t given me a receipt,’ I shouted through the door. I stood there fuming, counting to ten. It was not easy. I got as far as seven and a half, then gave up with a loud explosion of frustration. If I had been on the beach at Latching, I’d have started throwing pebbles, large ones, into the sea to get rid of my anger.
As soon as I had added extra layers and collected cap, gloves and scarf, I returned to the decks, going out of the other stateroom, planning to let off steam with a smart walk in the open air. My mission was to find the man I needed most. Or rather, the man I secondly needed most. How’s that for grammar? Write to the The Times about the current education system.
I met Ali in the corridor. He was pushing his trolley, piled high with clean linen and towels.
‘Ali,’ I said. ‘Apparently I am supposed to stay in my stateroom but I need to go and find out why Mrs Carter fell overboard. So if the security officer comes along, could you pretend that I am still in there?’
‘Yes, Miss Lacey. That security officer, him too big for his shoes.’
‘Exactly. Thank you.’ I gave him a grade A smile and disappeared along the corridor. I knew I could rely on Ali. A little bit of innocent deception would add spice to his routine of cleaning and tidying.
Bill Quentin was waiting for me at the gangway, wrapped up to the chin and ears with scarf and woolly hat. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘They think I stabbed Joanna.’
‘That’s rubbish. You were with the Sputniks. Dozens of witnesses. Do you want to go ashore for a minute? We need to check from the quayside to see if we can pinpoint the spot where Joanna fell.’
‘And I need to get away from a certain vindictive retired DI,’ I said. ‘I’ve lots to tell you. I’ve talked to Leila, the manicurist, and made notes of what she saw. My stateroom has been searched and an article purloined. I’ve been confined to my stateroom indefinitely by a swollen-head security officer. Somehow I get the feeling I’m being framed.’
‘Now that wouldn’t surprise me in the least. This all smells of bad fish and I’m not talking about the millions of fish in the drying sheds of Norway.’
We showed our swipe cards to the sensor machines. I was relieved to find that mine had not been cancelled. That was the first thing the security officer should have done if I was to be confined aboard. Thank goodness for continued inefficiency.
Tromso was big compared to the little ports we’d visited northwards. It was the biggest city in the north and spanned both sides of the river. A huge red and black Cunard liner, their newest, was moored alongside. It made the Orpheus Odyssey look like a pygmy. A great modern bridge spanned the river, connecting the two sides of the town.
I could see a ski lift on the far side taking skiers up into the mountains, and a pointed white church that was new and modern. It looked like an icicle. There was snow all along the top of the range, glinting and lifting my spirits out of their current gloom.
It was a sharp, clean cold. The wind was cutting through cloth like a scythe. It was impossible to recognize anyone. Everyone was done up with every wool layer they could find. Despite the cold, seagulls were circling our ship, their beady eyes alert for titbits that might be overlooked on deck. Fat chance. They were being constantly swept and cleaned.
The coaches were lined up on the quayside. Bill and I wandered along, looking as if our sole intention was to admire the great Cunard liner. But we were scanning decks of the Double O, imagining how Joanna might have come to fall overboard.
The more I thought about it, the more I thought she was pushed. A shiver crinkled my spine.
‘Yes, it is cold,’ said Bill. ‘We mustn’t stay out here too long.’
‘I’m a bit reluctant to go back on board,’ I said. ‘Handcuffs don’t suit me, the brig and all that. I’d get claustrophobia.’
We found the deck that Joanna might have fallen from. It was right over the promenade deck where we had been playing quoits. There was a corner bit, an overhang, jutting out, giving clearance and a clear fall.
‘I don’t know about the cuts in her bathrobe, but I reckon she was pushed,’ I said. ‘She fell right over our heads and into the wake of the ship. All that turbulence and aren’t there propellers down there? She didn’t stand a chance, injured or uninjured. It would have pulled her down.’
‘You’re right. That’s where she fell from. Or was pushed or thrown. It all makes sense. Have you spoken to your doctor friend?’
‘He’s not my doctor friend. And for some reason, he’s gone remote.’
‘I hear he has personal problems. It may not be anything to do with you.’
&nb
sp; ‘How do you know this?’
Bill shrugged his shoulders. ‘I’m a policeman.’
I had to laugh. He sounded like Mr Plod. Surely he wouldn’t let Geoff Berry pin a murder charge on me? I’d been in some difficult situations before now, but none had been quite so serious.
‘So how about an hour of sightseeing, Jordan? You deserve some time off.’ Before I was clapped into the brig? How kind. ‘I’ve got a ticket. I’m sure there’ll be a space on the coach. People are dropping out like flies, finding the wind chill too much.’
Craig Quentin was the last person I would want for company, but Bill Quentin was a different matter. I nodded gratefully and left him to sort out a ticket. It was not too difficult. Apparently, Joanna had bought two tickets and her name was on their list so I went on the coach all bona fide and above board. Bill let me sit by the window.
‘We’ll change halfway,’ I offered.
‘Beautiful views are healing for the soul,’ he said. ‘I think that’s a quote and you need some healing.’
‘’Tis distance lends enchantment to the view,’ I said. ‘That’s a Scottish poet, Thomas Campbell.’
‘Sound man.’
What did we see and what did we not see? We learned that Lapp is a bad word. They are called Sami now, people who have their own language and who have to learn Norwegian by law. This fjord was where the German ship, Tirpitz, went down. We were told about the Northern Lights. Lamp treatments and sunbeds on their National Health for the dark days, again. The northernmost wooden church. The arctic cathedral built in 1965 which mimics the shape of their drying sheds and icebergs.
Then we went up the ski lift which was exhilarating. The view was elemental grandeur, painted by a master. Far below were both cruise liners berthed alongside, one so big, dwarfing our smaller version. In the distance the range of snow-clad mountains glinted like frosted icing.
We watched a hang-glider take off from the summit behind us. He opened an orange sail, floating all the way down to the ground below, first nearly pitching into the sea, then swirling over the car park, landing awkwardly somewhere in a patch of shrubs.
I didn’t see the L-plates,’ I said.
‘Norwegian driver,’ said Bill.
We were drinking coffee on an outside deck overlooking the ski lift. Bill took a photo of me with the two liners in the background. It proved I was actually there, on this Norwegian cruise. That it was not all a dream.
A thought occurred. ‘Could the bathrobe have acted like a sail? Could it have slowed Joanna’s pitch into the sea? No, of course not. It was only a thought.’
‘Keep thinking, Jordan. Crazy thoughts are sometimes the right answer.’
The coach was taking us back to the ship, passing interesting buildings but no time to visit now. There was a schedule to keep. Soon it would be the moment of truth as I put my cruise card against the sensor at the top of the gangway. Berry would be there with the handcuffs.
But he wasn’t. Nothing happened. Bill and I strolled past, nonchalantly, taking the stairs instead of the lift to the lido. Once there, we tried not to race in. We squirted the antiseptic hand squirt and went straight to the hot counter. No salad stop today. We needed thawing out. Hot soup was the first priority. It was parsnip and orange with croutons. An unusual variation. I often threw together something vaguely similar at Latching. The skill was in the stirring.
We sat at a window table. We had not taken more than a few mouthfuls of soup when Natasha stopped by. She was in swathes of fur. Her back view was of a walking circus bear. Fake or not, she was well wrapped for the arctic. She must have brought a ton of luggage.
‘I’m really sorry about your friend, Mrs Carter,’ she said. ‘What a tragic accident.’
‘Really tragic,’ I said, sneaking another spoonful of soup. ‘She seemed so happy when I saw her.’
‘You saw her? Are you sure?’
‘Oh yes, it was earlier, before the fall happened. I couldn’t stay out there playing quoits. I was frozen so I went inside. She was in one of the bars with a gentleman, smiling and having quite a good time. She had obviously recovered from her other dreadful accident.’
‘Are you sure? Did you recognize the gentleman?’ I could hardly believe what I was hearing. I’d left Joanna in bed, still in her trance state.
‘No, not really. I only saw his back but he looked a bit familiar. There was something about him.’
‘And Joanna was in the bar, in her bathrobe?’
‘No, she was in some smart casual outfit, trousers and a black sequinned top, I think. Did it have black roses round the neck? No, I’m not really sure what she was wearing. But it was definitely her and it wasn’t a bathrobe.’
‘She went overboard in her bathrobe.’
‘She must have gone back to her cabin for a quick change.’ ‘Yes, that must be it,’ I said. My soup had gone cold.
I pushed it away and stood up. ‘Will you excuse me, Mr Quentin? I’ve just thought of something I ought to check.’
‘Of course, Miss Lacey,’ he said. ‘See you at dinner.’
I raced down to A Deck, shedding my outdoor clothes, hoping Berry hadn’t been back to the staterooms. He hadn’t. I went in the door to A708, closed it and sped through to mine, A710. My door to the corridor was still locked.
I went back into Joanna’s cabin and opened her wardrobe door. She had brought a lot of clothes. I hustled through the hangers. The black sequinned top with the black roses was hanging towards the back of the wardrobe. The roses were slightly creased and lopsided on the hanger as if it had been worn. It was the top she had bought in the store on our first morning. She had several pairs of black evening trousers so there was no point in looking through them.
Surely Natasha had been mistaken? It made no sense to be in a bar, drinking with a gentleman, when you were thought to be in bed in a state of shock. But Natasha could not have described a top which she had never seen. Joanna had not worn it down to dinner.
Then I did look through the black evening trousers. There was a sachet in one of the pockets, the kind of fresh smelling hand wipe they gave you in the casino in case your hands get sweaty. I’m sure Joanna never got sweaty, but she’d picked up a sachet anyway. Anything going free.
She could have been in the casino. That was the one place I would never look for her at any time. I didn’t know she liked to play the tables. Gambling is not my scene. I have enough trouble with normal money. Perhaps the man played the tables.
The phone rang in my cabin. (I am now refusing to call it a stateroom. It’s a larger cabin with extras.)
‘Hello,’ I yawned, like I had been there all day.
‘You are still there?’ It was Berry.
‘Reading a book as you suggested.’
‘I thought you might have climbed off the balcony.’
So the man thought he had some sense of humour. It had escaped me. I could not think of a sharp reply so I said nothing.
‘I have spoken with the authorities on shore, and it has been decided to charge you with the murder of Joanna Carter. So please stay where you are, until the authorities arrive at the next port. Please order any food you want from room service.’
I could feel my heart thudding. This was outrageous. I didn’t believe him for one instant. What authorities? If the Norwegian authorities were taking over the investigation they would have been on board by now and taken me ashore. But was it within their jurisdiction? Joanna had fallen overboard out at sea. Open sea is somewhere else.
‘If you say so.’ I fell back on the answer anything phrase. ‘Sir,’ I added.
‘Just do as I say, Jordan, and I’ll see you are all right.’
I nearly threw the coffee table over the balcony. I could have trashed the place. Instead I opened the balcony door and took a deep breath of air. They were letting go the mooring lines. It was partly cloudy, the sky hidden like a shy maiden. The captain was making some announcement. Apparently we were going to take a longer route to the Lofoten
Islands for safety’s sake. The great Cunard liner was overtaking us without the slightest effort as if we were a laden mule trudging in her wake. Mixed metaphors but she moved on wings. Our speed increased as we left the foggy sound.
As soon as I thought everyone was either eating or drinking, I escaped again. Not exactly me, but Miss Phoebe Brown dressed in the correct code, of course, no hat. So I tied a scarf round, bandeau style. I went straight for the Internet study. It was empty.
Great because no one would believe that Miss Brown knew how to email or access Google. She had probably only just mastered touch phones.
I emailed James.
James. I am going to be charged with the murder of Joanna Carter. She fell overboard. No body has been found. What shall I do? Jordan.
There was nothing more to say. I clicked on send and then went on to Google and tried to find out about International Nautical Law. It was a minefield, or a mine sea.
I scrolled through the sites, read a lot about law and nautical authority but nothing which directly helped me.
Later I went to the late night buffet and was grateful for another bowl of soup and a smoked salmon sandwich. Where had the time gone? Overboard with Joanna? I skirted the theatre and the dance floor with their uplifting music, passed the cinema which was showing the latest Harry Potter film which I dearly wanted to see again. It was difficult to get my addicted feet to walk by. I gave in without a fight. Berry would never expect to find me in the darkness of the cinema. I settled down to a couple of hours of fantasy, taking off Miss Brown’s glasses.
On deck it was quiet and windy. The slim light from the unsetting sun was comforting to a solitary passenger. I leaned over the rail, watching the waves, taking solace from the rhythm of the white horses that reared and fell. The sea was endless. It was part of me. Tonight it was part of Miss Brown.
Eventually I went back to the Internet study. A lone man was checking on his investments. Sleepless in Seattle, midnight sun style.
My in-mail was winking. There was one new email waiting for me. I hoped it was not a stupid advertisement. I didn’t want Viagra, slimming pills or a quick loan. My love life is excellent, I think, sort of. What did they know?
Fold and Die (Jordan Lacey Mysteries Book 8) Page 13
