‘I’m in the laundry.’
‘I’ve been worried stiff.’
‘And I’ve been worried stiff, and nearly starched stiff down here. Trapped in the swimming pool, journey into hell in the laundry lift, and now I’m in the laundry, about to be folded and delivered to the dining room. And Natasha is still trapped behind watertight doors at the pool, eating her way through a bowl of fruit.’
I don’t understand a word of what you’re saying. Start again.’
‘I’m not going to start again. You come down here and get me. I’m not going anywhere without a police escort. Joanna and her husband are trying to kill me, get rid of Natasha, and skip the ship in Bergen. So we’ve got to move fast.’
‘Don’t move.’
‘I’m hardly likely to in this outfit.’
I thanked the laundry manager for the use of his phone, and waited for James to arrive. I was an object of much curiosity and sly male grinning. They didn’t get many female visitors. A few tablecloths got folded into diagonal.
It felt like ages before James arrived. It was very hot in the laundry and I was perspiring, my hair like string, all decorum out the porthole, only there were no portholes that far down, only ventilation shafts.
I saw him before he saw me. James was being escorted through the maze of machines to where I was waiting, wallflower drooping by now, by the telephone. I had not moved an inch. One of the boys had brought me a stool to sit on.
‘So?’ said James, not touching me. His eyes were their usual glinting ocean depths. He did not look pleased to see me. ‘How am I going to explain this to the captain?’
‘How are you going to explain the watertight doors to the captain?’ I snapped back.
‘No explanation yet but Natasha is safe and has been taken to the medical centre for a check-up. She’s dehydrated. I had a few words with your dishy doctor friend and he seems much chastened. A woman called Flo Birley is keeping Natasha company.’
‘That’s good. Mrs Birley was on our table,’ I said. ‘I don’t trust the doctor.’
‘He says he’s got something to tell you and to apologize.’
‘Fat chance,’ I said.
‘Your debonair detective friend, Bill Quentin, has slapped Geoff Berry into a secure cabin, and is at present typing out a full report on Berry’s computer.’
‘Well done for Bill. One of the old sort. Totally trustworthy.’
‘Francis Guilbert has asked me to give you a message that the champagne is on ice and Staff Captain Hamish Duncan is inviting you to dinner, when you’ve got cleaned up.’
James rocked back on his heels, still keeping his distance. ‘There seems to be no end to your admirers.’
I felt a surge of satisfaction. ‘Well, there you go,’ I said. ‘That’s how to make friends and influence people on a cruise. It’s not just a pretty face and a wardrobe full of posh clothes.’
He eyed the torn pillowcase with the first glimmer of relaxation on his face. Maybe he had been worried stiff in case I had gone to join the whales and been stung to death by a poisonous jelly fish.
‘And what would you call that creation?’ he asked.
‘It’s the Norwegian national costume,’ I said. ‘Only needs a few yards of braid.’
‘Next time, perhaps you should make holes for your arms.’
I didn’t know if it was day or night. I was quite surprised to go on deck and find it was a beautiful sunny morning and we were sailing parallel to the coast of Norway. The port of Bergen was ahead between ranges of mountains known as ‘de syv fjell’ or the Seven Mountains. Somewhere soon was the Stonj Bridge.
James draped his fleece over my shoulders. The temperature was not exactly warm, but I was so pleased to see the sun and sky, and all the colourful houses dotted along the coastline, that I didn’t care if my toes were turning to ice.
He took a call on his mobile. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘She’ll be pleased to know that.’ He turned to me. ‘Your stateroom has been searched and cleared. It’s safe for you to go back there, have a hot shower, get into your own clothes, order room service.’
‘I can’t go back,’ I said. ‘I’m too scared.’
‘There’s nothing for you to be scared of,’ said James. ‘Captain Armitage has arranged some excellent company for you. His wife joined the ship in Tromso. She says she’d be very happy to stay with you.’
‘But what about Joanna Carter trying to do a runner in Bergen?’
‘No way. Every single gangway, passenger and stores exit, will be guarded. The quay will be ringed with police cars. Unless they jump off the bridge with parachutes, they don’t stand a chance of getting away. Don’t worry, Jordan, we are going to find them before we reach Southampton. You enjoy the last few days of the cruise. You’ve earned some time off.’
I knew what I would wear that evening. It was my prime charity shop purchase, a tubular silk-crepe pale pink dress with pearl beading. It was from the Thirties and had slipped past the scrutineers for vintage stock and on to the rails. It was beautiful and it fitted. I adored it. My fourth dress. In order, I now had a borrowed blue chiffon dress, a nearly new black shop dress, charity shop black chiffon evening dress and this silk-crepe. My cup runneth over.
Max Russell came calling. He stood in the doorway, hesitating. ‘May I come in, Jordan?’ He was carrying a bunch of white roses. ‘The nearest I could get to an olive branch.’
‘Sorry, I’m a bit busy. Recovering from various traumas.’
‘You should at least hear what he has to say,’ said Mrs Armitage. She was a pleasant woman, poised and authoritative, a veteran of cruises and cruising. ‘I’ll be on the balcony if you want me.’
Max came in and put the roses on the table. A white petal drifted to the floor.
‘Like me,’ he said. ‘Coming apart.’
I said nothing to help. He did not look well. His good looks were also coming apart, cleft lines from nose to mouth, shadowed eyes. It had been a busy time in the medical centre. He needed some sleep.
I’d had a shower, was back in my blue track suit, hair drying loose.
‘I have to apologize to you, Jordan, for being such a damned fool. I should have explained. I should have told you what was happening but it escalated so fast, I was caught up in it before I could get out of it.’
I relaxed fractionally. He sounded one hundred per cent confused. I still refused to say a word.
‘Joanna’s trance. It was all a fake, consummate acting. A charade, to get what she wanted, and eventually to fake her own murder. She blackmailed me into going along with it. I wish I’d said no. But I was panicked into agreeing. I didn’t want to lose my job and —’ he hesitated —’ my marriage.’
I allowed myself a long ‘Aaahh.’
‘I had become rather friendly with an unattached young woman on board, a senior officer. Nothing more than that, I assure you. Nothing happened really. But somehow Joanna found out and threatened to tell my wife and the captain. It seemed harmless at first, to pretend she was in a trance when she wasn’t in a trance. I didn’t know what she was planning to do to you.’
‘What about Suna, the Thai stewardess?’
‘Fixed, too. Sorry. Not genuine. She was provided by Geoff Berry. I don’t know who she is or why. And the medication. It was planted by me. Sorry.’
‘Despicable.’
‘I know. I’m sorry the way I treated you. I could barely look at you afterwards, knowing how it was all a deceit. And when the feeding tube came out … well, it was always out when you weren’t there. Joanna couldn’t stand it. And, yes, she was eating grapes. I wish none of it had happened. I may have to resign.’
‘So do you know where Joanna is hiding now?’ I asked coldly.
‘No, I’ve no idea and that’s the truth.’
‘And Natasha. Is she recovering from her ordeal?’
‘She’s doing fine. Sugar and water, milk and soup. She can return to the world of cruising sometime today. Natasha has nothing but praise for you. She thin
ks you are wonderful. The tops. Deserve a medal.’
It was soft soap. But I forgave him. Doctors worked hard, all hours, wherever they are and luxury cruise ships are no different.
‘Don’t resign,’ I said suddenly. ‘I shan’t complain about your behaviour. Good doctors are hard to get.’
I got up and put the white roses into water. It was my gesture of forgiveness.
Bill Quentin was my next visitor. He also brought flowers. The bottled kind.
‘We done good, girl,’ he said. ‘Pinned that bastard, Berry. He was in it up to his neck, sent you that nasty email. Do anything for money. I’ll be sending a report in to West Sussex, get the record put straight. They might send you an apology.’
‘I don’t want to go back into the police.’
‘You stay where you are. FCI sounds good. Give me a ring if you ever need a hand. This number will reach me anywhere in the world. I’d fancy some sea air.’
‘Come any time you like,’ I said. ‘I’m looking for a new place. It might have a spare room. So what did you manage to get out of Berry?’
‘It was a bit garbled since Berry wouldn’t know how to put two words together. It seems that Joanna’s life is insured for a cool half million. But there was a suicide clause, so it had to be murder. Natural causes being out of the question. She hired you to protect her but all the time setting you up as her murderer. Once you were arrested for her murder, devoted husband could put in the insurance claim and the pair of them would disappear into the far blue yonder.’
‘So where is she now?’
Bill shook his head. ‘Sorry. No idea.’ Same phrase, different person.
Francis Guilbert came on the phone. ‘I’m so relieved you are all right, Jordan. Will you have supper with me tonight in the dining room? You need a decent meal after all you’ve gone through, with excellent wine.’
‘And good company,’ I said.
‘Will you come?
‘Yes, of course. I’d love to. And I have the perfect pink dress, vintage. You’ll love it.’
‘That goes without saying.’
James was my last visitor. Mrs Armitage was getting bored with sitting on the balcony and went back to her husband’s quarters on the bridge. But I thanked her warmly. She had been reassuringly normal.
James sat down and took in the roses and the bottle of malt whiskey. ‘The admirers have been calling, I see,’ he said.
‘So kind, so generous,’ I said, rubbing in that he had brought me nothing.
‘I don’t have any social graces,’ he said. ‘We have berthed alongside in Bergen. All is secure and the gangways are down. Health and safety checks completed. Do you want to go ashore? You need to stretch your legs especially after your journey in the laundry lift.’
‘Thank you for reminding me, but no, I don’t want to. I want to make sure that Joanna and her husband don’t manage to get ashore, and make their escape to the airport.’
‘The airport has been alerted.’
‘So where are they? How are they going to get ashore?’
He stood up and held out his hands towards me. ‘Suppose we go on deck, take in the air, and keep our eyes open?’
He clasped his hands over mine and pulled me up. His hands were firm and warm. We went on deck. I was walking on air. My blue track suit was warm enough for Bergen’s icy air. It was such a pretty port, all the colourful seafront shops and cafés. The Seven Mountains in the distance. James kept hold of my hand in case I fell overboard.
We had mugs of hot chocolate on the lido deck, purely for the vitamin intake, keeping an eye on the passengers descending the gangway to the tour coaches or to walk independently round the town.
The sun was brilliant but the air was cold. A contradiction of terms. I could see the vernicular railway that took visitors up into the mountains. The views of the fjords would be marvellous but I was past views.
‘There’s Natasha,’ I said. ‘Look, there she is going down the gangway.’
It was easy to spot Natasha. She was wearing her huge fur coat, fur hat over eyes and flying scarves. A Goliath of a woman, slowly descending the gangway, testing each step.
‘Max said she was recovering in the medical centre, so surely it’s too soon for her to go sightseeing?’
James was up and away in seconds, flying to the side of the ship.
‘Stop that woman,’ he shouted into his mobile.
It was Joanna Carter, using Natasha’s swipe card and wearing her clothes. She had helped herself to both while Natasha was in the sauna. But this time it was the Bergen police that took her away on the grounds of trying to illegally enter Norway. Not a monstrous crime but enough to keep her in custody till the fraud squad detectives flew over from the UK.
Oliver Carter was stopped later, leaving the ship on his own swipe card, but James was at the quayside, explaining why it was necessary that he should accompany his wife for questioning over a suspicious death.
‘No argument, sir,’ said James. ‘We have sufficient evidence to charge you and your wife.’
‘It was all her idea,’ said Oliver Carter, white-faced.
‘You’ll have a chance to explain.’
‘I had nothing to do with it. Joanna planned it all.’
‘You are allowed one phone call.’
*
James came back on board ship a lot later. I didn’t want to go ashore, even though Bergen’s quayside warehouses looked so colourful and interesting. The Seven Mountains were snow-tipped, the snow glistening in the sunshine. I could hear music playing in the market place and the spirit of Grieg lived on, creating his wonderful piano concertos.
‘You have all these invites and dinner dates from various admirers,’ said James. ‘So where have you decided you are spending the evening?’
I was wearing the pink silk-crepe evening dress with the pearl beading. It was exquisite, perfect with my tawny hair. Same hair, washed and brushed out, fell down my back. I felt a different woman. I was wearing lashings of black mascara and some of Joanna’s Dior perfume. Although her belongings had been confiscated, they had overlooked the perfume. No one was interested in the lipstick I’d labelled.
‘There is only one person I want to be with,’ I said. There, it was said. I waited for normal masculine put-down.
‘Jordan,’ James said, looking at me with renewed intent. ‘I thought you would never ask.’
TWENTY-FIVE
Southampton
Captain Armitage was holding his early evening farewell cocktail party as we sailed the homeward straight through the North Sea. We’d passed many offshore oil platforms, some as far as thirty miles away, that could be seen because of their height above sea level.
It was quite windy with occasional rain showers but I didn’t care if it rained. I only wanted to get home to Latching.
Except that would mean saying goodbye to James. He had to return to Yorkshire. I tried not to think about it, kept a smile fixed to my face. He was circulating with all the ease of a professional police officer. He’d hinted that he was up for promotion.
We would soon be entering the English Channel, passing between Dover and Calais in the Dover Straits.
Captain Armitage and Mrs Armitage were mingling among their passengers, many of whom they would see again on other cruises.
‘So shall we be seeing you again, Miss Lacey?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know. It has been a marvellous experience in many ways. The ship is beautiful and the service and food without fault. And I loved Norway to bits. I’ve never seen such spectacular scenery. But now I’m ready to go home, to my Latching, my sea, my pier and my beach.’
He laughed. ‘Can we have that in writing? It’s the perfect advertisement for cruising. A wonderful holiday and happy to go home.’
We didn’t mention the negative side. Both Joanna and Oliver Carter were safely in custody and Geoff Berry had been removed from his duties. The older Suna had disappeared. It was doubtful if we would see her again. I felt
sorry for her and wondered what hold Geoff Berry had manufactured over her. It might have been something as simple as an incorrect work permit.
‘Latching is only an hour on the train from Southampton,’ said Hamish Duncan, refilling my glass from the bottle he was carrying. ‘Would I be offered a cup of coffee if I called by while the ship was on turnaround in dock?’
‘Of course,’ I said warmly. ‘But I don’t have a home yet. I have to do some serious house-hunting. But I should be happy to see you.’
‘You still have my mobile number?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then we can keep in touch. I’m sorry you had such a rough time, but at least no one died on this cruise.’
‘But they did,’ said Max Russell, joining the group. ‘We had one fatality. A Mr Edward Hale had a heart attack in his cabin and died. Very sad. An elderly gentleman travelling on his own.’
‘But I knew him,’ I said with a rush of emotion. I gave him my coach ticket for some excursion. He seemed very pleased to have it. A nice old gentleman.’
‘You were probably the last person he spoke to. At least he enjoyed the trip, went with the majestic scenery of Norway on his mind.’
Mr Hale’s death sobered me but at least it had not been a murder. Time had taken its normal toll.
Natasha joined us in one of her flamboyant outfits. This one was turquoise and orange stripes. She had recovered quickly from her ordeal, especially when she learned that she had lost nearly half a stone through the experience.
And she had an escort. Bill Quentin was at her side, cravat abandoned, looking casual in a blazer and an open-necked white shirt. They had plenty to talk about, lots in common and I’d seen them laughing together on deck.
‘I’m going to make sure that you get a reward, dearie. You saved the company a half a million fraudulent claim. There’s got to be a few thousand in it for you,’ said Natasha, helping herself to a smoked salmon roll.
‘Thank you. I’ll be homeless in two weeks. I’ve got to find somewhere to live first.’
‘Find somewhere with sea views. You love the sea so much. That’s what you must have. There’s only one condition.’
Fold and Die (Jordan Lacey Mysteries Book 8) Page 20
