Death Warmed Up

by John Paxton Sheriff

  ‘Which are, however, believed to be still in the UK,’ Romero said.

  ‘But not for long. Karl Creeny is suspected of masterminding the robbery. There’s surely no mystery about why he was sitting there like an out of work undertaker on Rickman’s boat.’

  ‘No, the inference is quite clear,’ Romero said. ‘Rickman and Creeny are in some form of collaboration. Sooner or later, those stolen jewels were to be delivered into their hands. However, the question we must ask ourselves – if your theory is correct – is could Charlie Wise somehow skip jauntily onto Sea Wind and snatch a fortune in stolen gems from under their noses?’

  ‘The blunt answer is no, he couldn’t do it,’ Sian said flatly. ‘Not a chance.’

  I looked long and hard at Romero, then shrugged off my disappointment. ‘It didn’t really add up anyway, because when we suggested Pru stay with her parents for safety, she told us they are in Tangier. Miles away from the action.’

  ‘She was almost right,’ Romero said, and he closed the laptop with a snap.

  I stared. ‘Well, they’re either in Tangier, or they’re not,’ I said. ‘Which is it?’

  ‘Shall we say they appear to have made it halfway?’

  ‘Oh dear,’ Sian said, ‘that sounds ominous. So, halfway – then what happened?’

  ‘They left this evening and were undoubtedly on their way to Tangier. It was a trip they had planned, they had talked about it incessantly. There are excellent restaurants overlooking the marina, so several people saw them leave. But just a few hours later, in the red glow of a brilliant sunset, their boat was spotted in the straits. It was wallowing in a heavy swell about a mile off the Spanish coast. Coastguards from Gibraltar were called. When they boarded the vessel, they found no sign of Charlie Wise or his wife.’

  ‘What about the crew?’

  ‘When going on a long Mediterranean cruise, he employs a couple of local lads so that he and Adele can happily stay loaded to the gills. This time, perhaps he and his wife needed their wits about them – and no witnesses. There was nobody on board that boat. The vessel was deserted.’

  ‘Poor Pru. If she really has left Gib she won’t know, will she?’ Sian was frowning. ‘What are your thoughts on this, Luis? Charlie weighed down by a mountain of debt so they sailed away into the sunset to end it all?’

  ‘A tragic, romantic scenario, but alas, pure fantasy.’ Romero smiled grimly. ‘If Charlie and Adele killed themselves, how can we explain the fact that the hull of their beautiful yacht was riddled with bullet holes.’

  ‘Bloody hell,’ I said softly.

  ‘Above the waterline,’ Romero said. ‘A neat dotted line, leading up towards the flybridge. It would seem that the weapon was fired from another small vessel as it approached the Alcheringa. Perhaps it was meant as a warning: an old-fashioned shot across the bows, heave to or be scuttled. After that … well, who knows? There was no sign of a desperate struggle for survival, nothing was broken or disturbed, there were no pools of blood.’

  I frowned. ‘So what was it, a kidnapping? Or do you think they have been murdered? Knocked unconscious, then lashed to the anchor and thrown overboard?’

  Romero was sitting back again, his arms folded. ‘Come on, Jack. You are an amateur detective. You were skilful in your handling of the Skaill affair. Instead of asking questions, let me have your thoughts. It is a wonderful mental challenge for you. We have a deserted vessel on the high seas; it is the Marie Celeste all over again.’

  ‘Well, there’s never an hour out of any twenty-four when the straits are empty of ships. You mentioned a small vessel, so you must have found a witness. Someone who saw or heard something.’

  ‘A series of brilliant flashes were seen from the bridge of a cargo vessel on an easterly course through the straits. The captain has been in war zones. He knew what was going on and immediately alerted the coastguards here in Gibraltar. He then ordered a special watch to be kept. A short while later the officer on lookout reported seeing a small boat. He said it was moving at speed away from what looked like an abandoned luxury motor cruiser, heading in the general direction of Gibraltar.’

  ‘All right,’ Sian said, ‘so this is all we know for sure. Out in the straits, a boat opens fire on the Alcheringa. Soon afterwards, what has to be the same boat is seen heading at speed towards Gibraltar. That doesn’t give us much to go on.’

  ‘Except speculation,’ I said, ‘and we’ve got no idea why they were attacked.’

  ‘But of course you have,’ Romero said.

  He had lit a thin cigar. He waggled it. The smoke shimmied upwards to be caught and swirled by the wooden blades of the gently rotating ceiling fan.

  ‘Have we?’

  Romero grinned, flashing his white teeth at me.

  ‘Go back to your original theory.’

  ‘Charlie was after the diamonds.’

  ‘Aha, no, that’s not it at all,’ Sian said, realization dawning. ‘Charlie’s succeeded. Somehow he managed to snatch them, and they were tucked away in one of the boat’s lockers.’

  ‘Damn it, yes, of course,’ I said. ‘And Rickman discovered they were missing, and knew the thief had to be Charlie.’

  ‘And he sent thugs armed with Kalashnikovs to recover them.’ Sian looked at Romero. ‘But did they or didn’t they? Recover them, I mean. They must have done, surely?’

  Romero shook his head reprovingly. ‘You are not thinking. If Charlie was clever enough to steal those diamonds,’ he said, ‘why then would he be stupid enough to take them with him on a trip to Tangier that everybody in Gibraltar knew about?’

  A silence heavy with concentrated thought settled over the office. It was broken when the door clicked and a policeman in shirtsleeves came in with three china mugs on a silver tray. He placed the tray on the desk, winked at Romero, and went out. I reached across, took two mugs, handed one to Sian. She tasted it, rolled her eyes in ecstasy. It was rich, ground coffee, scalding hot, very sweet.

  ‘Obviously because he never intended to go anywhere near Tangier,’ Sian said, and she sat back with her coffee as Romero chuckled. ‘It was a bluff from the start. Charlie planted the Tangier idea in everybody’s minds. That’s what he wanted everyone to think. What he and Adele actually did was’ – she glanced at Romero, squeezed her eyes almost shut, wrinkled her nose, then opened her eyes wide to see him nodding encouragement and said – ‘jump ship.’

  ‘Using the tender,’ I said. ‘Those boats have a fast inflatable that can be stored deflated or ready to go on the stern swimming platform.’ I looked accusingly at the detective. ‘You knew it was missing, but didn’t let on?’

  ‘But no,’ Romero said, ‘the tender was not missing. For safety on those long cruises, Wise always kept it ready on that swimming platform. It was exactly where it should have been, and so the thought that the Wises had, as Sian puts it – jumped ship – never occurred to me.’

  ‘What if they had a second inflatable and used that to make it to the Spanish coast with the gemstones, leaving those gunmen to attack an empty vessel?’ Sian said. ‘That would mean my idea of Pru making for Malaga could be wrong. The opposite direction now seems more likely; she could have left Gib and headed west. And it might not be “poor Pru” either. It’s “clever Pru”, isn’t it? She really was in it with mummy and daddy, and she drove across the border to join them.’

  ‘But not clever Sian,’ I said. ‘Sorry, but to me the idea of a second inflatable just doesn’t seem right.’

  Sian nodded slowly. ‘So … what are you saying? That they are dead? They really were consigned to a watery grave?’

  ‘No. I don’t think that happened. It was a well thought out plan to escape with the diamonds. I think they had help to get clear.’

  ‘Which really puts the cat amongst the pigeons,’ Romero said. ‘If they were taken off the Alcheringa by another vessel, then it is quite possible that they did after all make it all the way to Tangier. And, unfortunately, Morocco does not have an extradition treaty wit
h the UK.’

  With great delicacy he tapped the ash from his cigar into a solid brass ashtray, then pushed back his swivel chair.

  ‘So let us hope that Sian has found the answer,’ he said, coming round the desk. ‘They headed for the Spanish coast, and will be joined there by their daughter. However, even that does not help us a great deal. We do not know where they are, or what will they do next. Charlie Wise will be aware that airports in Spain and Portugal will be watched. Wherever he is he is now safely beyond the reach of the police here in Gibraltar, so—’

  ‘If I was in Charlie’s shoes,’ I said, ‘I’d simply cause the family to disappear. Go to ground. Come back to life in twelve months’ time with new identities and those glittering baubles to be sold to the highest bidder.’

  ‘And at the present time, for that kind of deal, the mind immediately considers oil-rich Arab sheikhs,’ Romero said thoughtfully. ‘Sooner or later, that, I am sure, is how Wise could do his trading.’

  He fastened his jacket’s single button, ran a hand across his already smooth hair. ‘And I will leave you with this thought, Jack: despite my earlier pessimism, I believe that when tomorrow you return to your stone farmhouse in the Welsh mountains, you will be well very out of this whole affair.’

  Yes, I thought, reaching for Sian’s hand and making for the door, that would be very pleasant – but I wonder if what you have just done with those words, Luis, is put paid to any possibility of that happening?

  Four

  ‘Christ, you took your bloody time.’

  He was sitting on a bollard close to Tim’s boat, El Pájaro Negro. Ragged blonde hair shone in the moonlight. Shadow, cast by the wide-brimmed bush hat, hid the man’s eyes but left the lower half of his face exposed. His mouth was split in a sardonic grin, his teeth white against the suntan. Sinewy forearms rested on his spread knees, wrists slack. The pistol dangling casually from one of his hands was a sinister black shape, silently menacing.

  Sian’s hand tightened, crushing my fingers.

  ‘And you’re a long way from a sunburnt country,’ I said. I took a pace forward, so that Sian was partially shielded by my body. ‘Shouldn’t you be bent over shearing Merino sheep? Straddling a surf board off Bondi, waiting to catch the next big wave?’

  ‘Mate, with my luck what I’d be waiting for is the parole that’d get me out of Long Bay jail.’ He winked. ‘That’s just to let you know I’m a tough cookie it’d be a big mistake to mess with.’

  ‘Wouldn’t dream of it,’ I said. ‘And talking of dreams, it’s way past our bed time.’

  ‘Tough it out. You walked into the police station in Irish Town carrying a laptop. Sashayed out a while later, empty-handed. Rickman’s confused, and when that happens he gets upset. You’re about to clarify matters.’

  The pistol came up, waggled.

  Sian’s breath hissed softly, a controlled intake that was the prelude to action. She let my hand drop, stepped lightly to one side. I sensed her tension, knew she had her eyes fixed on the pistol and was estimating how fast she could get to the Australian.

  ‘All right,’ I said quickly, ‘let’s go and comfort Rickman,’ and my hand shot out and grasped Sian’s arm in a grip that caused her to wince.

  ‘Jack, if he gets us on board that boat …’ she said softly.

  ‘There’s not an if in sight, darling,’ said the Australian. ‘This little Glock makes it a foregone conclusion.’

  He was up on his feet, tall and lean, casting a long shadow. The pistol was used to point the way. Still keeping a tight hold of Sian’s arm, I turned and walked towards the gangway leading up to the big white boat moored on the other side of the concrete strip from my late brother’s much smaller black yacht.

  When I stepped onto Sea Wind’s deck a section of shadow separated from the mass and became a stocky, muscular black man with a polished skull. He led the way past curved steps leading up to the bridge and on into a saloon where black leather and American walnut gleamed in the soft lighting. Blue smoke from a thin cigar clung like skeins of mist to the over-long greying black hair of a big barefoot man in chinos and T-shirt. He was standing by a cocktail cabinet. When he turned, glass in hand, I caught the faintest of clinks from the heavy gold bracelet encircling his wrist, saw the light winking on the gold neck chain.

  Reclining on one of that luxurious saloon’s sensually curved seats, a woman with streaks of grey in her long blonde hair was using a slender holder to smoke a black Russian cigarette. A flowered drawstring kaftan had the sheen of shot silk, suitable wrapping for an expensive toy. She was as lazily relaxed as a contented cat, her grey eyes amused.

  ‘Welcome aboard,’ the big man said, and his cold eyes drifted past me to strip Sian of her clothes. ‘I’m Bernie Rickman. My wife, Françoise, is here to make sure I behave. Sit down, tell Clontarf what you’d like to drink.’

  ‘Now, that really would be a fuckin’ waste of time,’ the Australian said.

  He’d remained behind us. To get out of the saloon in a hurry we’d have to go over, around, or through him.

  I suppressed a smile.

  ‘Ebenholz?’ Rickman said.

  The black man, a prowling threat in sleeveless black shirt and jeans, didn’t bother to answer. His weapon, which to me looked like an old Heckler and Koch P7, was carried in a worn leather shoulder rig, the holster under his left arm.

  Rickman followed his restless movements for a moment, then registered indifference with a shrug of his shoulders.

  ‘So, if you want a drink to calm your nerves, it looks like you’ll have to help yourselves. Otherwise—’

  ‘It’s otherwise,’ I said, ‘and our nerves are fine. Why are we here?’

  ‘Sit down.’

  ‘Like hell—’

  ‘If we’re going to spend time doing serious talking, Jack, we should be comfortable.’

  Sian’s turn to exercise control. She dropped onto a long, richly upholstered seat, pulled me with her. I took a deep breath, ran fingers through my hair.

  Rickman was leaning against the sleek walnut panelling close to the big flat-screen TV. He sipped his drink, let his eyes linger on Sian. The question, when it came, took me by surprise.

  ‘Where is Charlie Wise, Scott?’

  I frowned. ‘In Tangier – isn’t he?’

  ‘I know where my ruined boat is, but not the man who was renting it from me.’

  ‘He shot through.’ The Australian, Clontarf, was grinning. ‘An Aussie term, Jack. Means he’s left in a hurry, gone bush, no forwarding address.’

  ‘So now it’s up to you, Scott,’ Rickman said.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because you’re in it with them.’

  ‘It? I don’t know what you’re talking about. Pru Wise came to us this evening. We looked after her until she left. She’d been threatened by your wife.’

  I glanced across at the woman. She winked, mimed a kiss.

  ‘Do I really look like a femme fatale, a gun moll?’ she said. The voice she’d chosen was straight out of a 1940s Hollywood gangster film, her eyes suggesting she was mildly amused but bored out of her mind.

  Rickman shook his head, grinning quirkily.

  ‘The truth is, you’re all in it together, probably over your respective heads, and what you were doing is looking after each other,’ he said. ‘Before today’s events it was nothing more than a get-rich-quick scheme, a game, something played out on the Xbox. Now it’s desperation; Charlie working out how to keep hold of ill-gotten gains when the pack’s baying at his heels. The Yanks would call it exit strategy. It’s possible when Charlie worked that one out he was thinking only of self and family. But I’ve got a better idea.’

  ‘Get rid of it. It’s worthless.’

  ‘Where’s the laptop?’

  ‘Ask your pet Digger.’

  ‘I told you, he took it to the cop shop,’ Clontarf said as Rickman flashed him a look. ‘Expect an early call from the boys in blue.’

  ‘Yes, and that’ll be a
nother waste of time,’ Rickman said.

  ‘Not theirs,’ I said. ‘With the laptop they have proof Karl Creeny, a man wanted in connection with a very big jewel robbery, was here on this boat.’

  ‘So what? He was, but now he’s not. What does that have to do with me? Gibraltar is a million miles away from the scene of his alleged crime. And if I did know Karl Creeny – again, so what? I haven’t left the Rock in months.’

  ‘Unlike Creeny,’ I said. ‘Here today, gone tomorrow. Seems to me his exit strategy was pure self. But who can blame him? He was in Gibraltar for the diamonds, wasn’t he? And if Charlie’s got them – which is surely what this is all about-then why hang around?’

  ‘From certain information we were given by DI Romero,’ Sian said, ‘this Creeny’s not letting the grass grow. Sounds as if he recruited a small army and went hunting for those jewels.’

  The man called Ebenholz laughed softly. I looked at him, at the blank eyes and the glistening muscles, at the weapon carried as if it were an essential but perfectly natural part of his attire, a useful fashion accessory. Then I glanced across at the other man, the Australian who had moved away from the entrance, poured himself a drink and was watching proceedings with that sardonic grin. And I remembered the boat out in the straits, stitched with a neat line of bullet holes, and I wondered… .

  ‘I’m making it all sound very simple,’ Rickman said, cutting across my speculation, ‘but in real life it doesn’t work like that.’

  ‘All right,’ I said, ‘then tell us how it does work, and then maybe we can all get to bed. I don’t know about you, but tomorrow Sian and I have a plane to catch.’

  ‘Which will remove both of you from the scene of the crime,’ Rickman said, ‘but will do nothing to change the situation.’

  ‘Meaning whatever you have planned for us can be activated here, or wherever we decide to go?’ I nodded. ‘DI Romero said something along those lines. Perhaps that’s something you might bear in mind.’