Death of a Mermaid

by Lesley Thomson

  There was an arrow pointing clockwise. She had turned the handle the wrong way. She took both hands off the rung and grabbed the handle. The sea was on her side, the boat tipped, pushing her against the ladder. She twisted the handle.

  She heaved on the hatch. It gave but didn’t open. She could have cried with frustration. Something must be blocking it. Ricky was one step ahead all the time. This was new to her. It was always Andy who had caught her on the hop when they were kids, never Ricky. She pushed again. This time with the strength of the crazed, who can lift a car to save someone caught beneath it.

  She heard a dull thud. A buoy and some crates had been stacked on top of the hatch. They were snatched up by the wind and slid across the nearly vertical planks.

  Freddy was soaked as water from the deck streamed in, splashing down into the hold. She just grabbed at a rung as the boat heaved. She hauled herself up and out.

  A wave the size of a house was suspended above her. She flung herself behind the gantry as it smashed onto the deck. The trawler plummeted into a trough and rose again. The hull shuddered.

  Freddy had been focused on escaping from Ricky. She hadn’t considered the other enemy, one far more formidable and unforgiving. Ricky was nothing if his boat was overwhelmed by the storm. Already he wasn’t thinking straight. He’d forgotten to lock the hatch. He’d made a thing about closing all apertures when they got on board.

  Freddy had only to lose her footing and she would go overboard. The tumult, black flecked with foam, was riven with currents like muscles beneath skin. Freddy had no life jacket. Another wave smacked her into one of the warp drums. If she slipped into the freezing waters, a life jacket wouldn’t save her. She would die of cold within minutes.

  An arm wrapped around her neck. She wriggled and ducked, but the grasp was strong. She shouted into the gale. ‘Andy, help.’

  A towering wave engulfed the stern, water streaming over the net drum. Plastic boxes spun across the deck and bounced against bollards.

  Freddy tried to twist around.

  ‘Christ’s sake, Freddy, don’t fight me,’ Ricky hissed.

  54

  TONI

  Cars screeched up to the quay. Two men arrived on bicycles; one had a broken light but Toni wasn’t about to arrest him. Despite her sick terror, she watched, impressed, as, at top speed, they climbed into dry-suits and wellingtons. Men ran down the slipway to the boat still doing up zips, clipping on helmets, shrugging into life jackets. Toni was desperate to go with them. She would brave seasickness to get to Freddy and Ricky. She had never believed he was a murderer. She hoped she would get the chance to look him in the eye and tell him so.

  ‘Task heli. Potential casualties. Three.’ His phone to his ear, Malcolm was sending up a police helicopter. He finished, ‘Guv, we’re on.’

  *

  Three fifty-six a.m. The helicopter swung out over the English Channel.

  The Teresa-Mary’s last recorded coordinates were 50°44’.47N and 000°02’910W, 4.48 nautical miles from the coast off Burrow Head. Since then there had been no message on the VHS channel, no blip on the radar. It was as if the trawler didn’t exist.

  ‘They have to rely on sightings from other shipping.’ Malcolm had been talking with the crew. ‘Apparently, there’s a Belgian trawler two miles from the Teresa-Mary’s last recorded position. And a Norwegian vessel six miles away. They’re full steam ahead there now.’

  Toni wolfed a softening Snickers bar that she found in her pocket. Balling the wrapping between her palms, she scoured the darkness outside the window. Lit by the helicopter’s beam, the sea was black, laced with white spume. When she’d gone aboard Ricky’s boat with its horrible oily smells, she had marvelled at the huge components, great lumps of metal. The engine rotor with blades the size of a person, gigantic reels for wire that paid out the nets. Ricky had called it the warp. All of it solid, indestructible. It would be all right.

  Below, the swell, raked by the machine’s searchlight, thrilled with currents and counter-currents. A giant maw which could swallow a liner, never mind Ricky’s twelve-metre boat. She’d many times done her own trawling – through Google – and knew a beam trawler rolled easily. Make the slightest error shooting the nets or swinging them in or out of the water, heavy with tonnes of fish, and it was impossible to correct. It took a ridge of sand, a discarded net – called a fastener – to snag the trawler and capsize it. Accidents were waiting to happen. Every time Ricky went out, he took his life in his hands. Toni had known this day would come. Except this time the accident would be on purpose.

  ‘Ricky’s an experienced sailor. He’s got all the competency certificates. His boat is twelve years old, but that’s not old in this industry.’ Malcolm had done his homework. ‘Fishermen come through the most terrible conditions. Like coppers.’ He couldn’t muster a smile.

  ‘Why did they even go? Jesus, Mary and flippin’ Joseph, it’s one grade short of a hurricane on the Beaufort scale.’ Andy would have factored that in. Toni buffed the window with a cuffed fist, although it made no difference. Sea visibility was down to ten metres, the wind speed was nearing a hundred. If it got worse the search crews would abort the mission. She narrowed her eyes. Below was roiling black, waves breaking on waves. ‘I’m a detective, but I never saw through his charm. I took the piss out of his social climbing, the golf club and the business breakfasts, church every week. OK, I knew he was ruthless – Andy could drive down fish prices, even with Ricky – but I never guessed he was a killer.’

  ‘How could you? Killers come in—’

  ‘All shapes and sizes, yeah. But this isn’t some bloke bottling another in the face. This is the premeditated murder of two women Andy knew.’ Toni chucked the chocolate wrapper at the glass. It bounced off onto the carpet.

  ‘Psychopaths are charming. Look at Ted Bundy.’ Malcolm retrieved the wrapper. ‘You did say Andy Power’s father was evil.’

  ‘See? I saw that in Fred senior. I like to think I’d have sussed Bundy too.’ Toni needed to give Malcolm the facts. ‘You won’t know this, but Fred Power was gay.’

  ‘Wait, didn’t he chuck Freddy out of the house for being with a woman?’ Malcolm got the point immediately. ‘Wow. Freddy must feel sick.’

  ‘Freddy doesn’t know – none of them do. I found out soon after I joined Sussex. Fred Power was done for cottaging in the seventies. In those loos opposite the Co-op. The shop was a big old pub in those days. Fred drank there.’

  ‘Well.’ Malcolm puffed his cheek. ‘I’m surprised that didn’t close down the fishery.’

  ‘It was hushed up. The Powers had power. Thanks to Andy, they still do. It never got to court.’

  ‘Tediously typical, a gay-hater with issues about his sexuality. I do get why he didn’t want to be out. I’d think twice in his business, ours too.’ Malcolm was scouring the sea. ‘You never told Ricky?’

  ‘We’d just got together. I didn’t want to lose him.’ Toni winced. Telling Malcolm had temporarily taken her mind off what they were doing. The crazed yearning returned. Make it all right. ‘Ricky never got the sharp end of Fred Power. He’d have shot the messenger. Fred Power’s double standards destroyed his family. I’ll tell Ricky now. And Freddy.’ Cold fear fraying her senses, Toni prayed she’d get the chance.

  55

  FREDDY

  ‘Christ’s sake, Freddy, stop fighting me.’

  In the light of a deck lamp Freddy caught sight of an anchor tattoo on her brother’s wrist. Ricky.

  Ricky was too strong. Perhaps feeling her subside, he let go. He steadied himself against the derrick. With her back to the engine housing, Freddy had nowhere to go. Blinded by sea spray and whipped by the wind, still she could make out that Andy wasn’t in the wheelhouse.

  ‘What have you done to Andy?’ Her mouth wouldn’t work properly.

  Ricky hustled her down the steps into the galley. Freddy slumped on a bench, hugging herself. Out of the storm, she realised she was wet through and freezing cold.


  ‘Put that on.’ Ricky thrust a bundle at her. A life jacket. Any glimmer of possibility he didn’t intend to harm her was quickly extinguished. Ricky evidently planned to make her death appear an accident. If she went overboard, even in a life jacket, if she didn’t drown, she’d die of hypothermia.

  Ricky took a remote control from the condiment shelf and flicked on the TV. Freddy recognised Diamonds Are Forever. She rubbed her temples as it became clear. In the middle of a hurricane, Ricky must be setting up a scene of cosy domesticity. She imagined his statement to the police. ‘…we had hauled in the nets and processed the catch. We were all below, chilling out with a Bond movie. I made Freddy keep on her life jacket because the weather was worsening…’

  Freddy shouted at Ricky, ‘I’m not watching telly, Ricky. Jesus, we shouldn’t be here! In this weather you need me crewing.’ She struggled into the jacket, fumbling with tags and toggles, numb fingers making her clumsy. Ricky loomed over her. Freddy flinched. But he tightened the straps, securing the jacket.

  ‘What have you done with Andy?’ No point in placating him; even after twenty years, he’d be able to read her.

  ‘I’m here.’ Andy was in the doorway leading from the fish hold. Freddy felt a whoosh of relief.

  ‘Turn that thing off, Ricky. We have to talk.’ Andy nodded at the television.

  ‘The nets need hauling in. We have a catch. You need to help.’ Ricky struggled towards Andy. Andy didn’t move. ‘I’ll bring her back to port. Unload this haul. Then I’m done. Freddy, you stay here. Keep out of the way.’

  ‘Sit,’ Andy ordered. ‘Don’t be stupid, little brother.’

  ‘Ricky, I told you I have certification. I should be helping. You need us all up there. Andy, let him pass. Ricky, let me help…’ Freddy began. For a moment she forgot that she’d asked Andy to be mindful of Ricky. That he was dangerous.

  ‘Get over there.’ Andy shoved Ricky onto the bench beside Freddy.

  ‘The nets must be twisting, if they tangle—’ Ricky went still. ‘What is that noise?’

  Above the boom of the waves and claps of thunder Freddy distinguished a bang. It reverberated in the galley.

  ‘You’ve left a bloody hatch open.’ Ricky tried to get up. ‘Andy, reel in the starboard warp and land the net. I’ll do the other net. OK, Freddy, you can help. You and me will empty the catch into the hold.’ Ricky had gone into captain mode. Freddy had never seen him in charge of anything before. Whatever, his trawler came first.

  ‘We are going to have a chat.’ Andy pointed the remote at the television and turned it off. ‘Too late for scruples, bro.’

  The grating tone. The suppressed anger. Supreme control.

  ‘You will leave this town and never return. I can’t even look at you, the sight makes me sick. You’re damaged goods. A freak of nature.’

  ‘Ricky, you will do as I say. We need this business. You can’t jump ship now. Or, put it this way, that’s exactly what you can do.’ Andy was talking like his father.

  Freddy had been touched when her childhood companion, the brother she’d protected from their dad, welcomed her home. He’d given her work, a place to stay when Ricky had wanted her gone. Now she realised it hadn’t been kindness. Freddy’s heart lurched in her mouth. Andy was not her friend. He was out for himself.

  ‘Join us, Freddy.’ Andy’s voice thrilled with excitement. Who was this man? ‘We can trust each other. Not like Karen. The Powers are back. We’re extending Gold Light’s reach along the coast. Dorset, Devon, Cornwall.’

  It was Andy who hid the Gold Light file behind Ricky’s computer. He knew she’d find it and that she’d blame Ricky. It was Andy who had driven Ricky’s car that night. She had refused to see the truth, and it had led her here.

  ‘You were in Ricky’s car,’ Freddy said. ‘The engine was warm but Ricky was at sea that night. Toni told me in the pub but I was too blinkered to see. You weren’t just cross about Sarah sending you that letter. You were cross that I was still alive. You’d left me for dead in a ditch.’

  The boat tilted violently towards the stern. Andy was thrown to the end of the table. Freddy jostled against Ricky on the bench.

  ‘You said you dented the wing moving my car out of the way of the bin lorry.’ Ricky struggled up. Yelling over the din. ‘Stay here. I’m going to sort the gear. When we get into Newhaven, I’m calling Toni.’

  ‘Let me spell it out for the stupid one in the family.’ Andy pushed Ricky down. ‘If you tell your copper girlfriend, I will inform DI Kemp’s superiors about her propensity to go shopping without opening her purse.’

  Freddy dragged her hands down her face. Andy knew about the shoplifting.

  ‘You’re talking out of your arse.’ Thank God. Ricky didn’t believe Andy.

  ‘Karen Munday had her uses.’ Andy was grim. ‘She spotted Toni nicking sweets in the Co-op. You should thank me. Karen would have used it to take all of Gold Light. That was her plan.’

  ‘Karen was a liar. Toni is a police officer,’ Ricky spat. ‘How come Karen was… Wait, you told her about Gold Light?’

  ‘Of course not, stupid.’ Andy was sneering. ‘Dan found your faked logbook for the Teresa-Mary. That boy was too bright, he realised the trips didn’t match reality and went squealing to his mum. Karen demanded in or she’d report us. I told Daniel that you were the ringleader. Stupid kid went off the rails.’ Andy sounded aggrieved, like a game had been spoiled. ‘I was doing just fine. Dad would have been proud – I turned this place around.’

  ‘Proud of you? It’s me working all hours!’ Ricky yelled.

  ‘And Dad would have hated fishing illegally!’ Freddy said. ‘Whatever else he was, he would not have handled black fish. Christ. He vetted our suppliers with a fine-tooth comb, scouring their log books, watching them land catches to check they were on the level.’

  ‘She was blackmailing me.’ Andy ignored them both.

  ‘Karen blackmailed you?’ Freddy felt crushed. If only Karen had told the police, she’d be alive now. She recalled the hamster staying at the pets’ hotel. ‘Was Karen going away?’

  ‘Daniel said Karen was going to a spa for a few days. Dan was worried she was going mad with money.’ Ricky was as white as a sheet. Freddy felt sorry for him; he was up to his neck.

  ‘She was!’ Andy exclaimed. ‘She was leeching me for a couple of grand a month. The bitch was bleeding me dry. It had to stop.’

  ‘Bleeding you dry?’ Ricky’s ruddy complexion was chalk pale. ‘You had me increase the catches, do longer trips and you never told me she was blackmailing you.’

  ‘Karen would have got Toni for being a thief. I did you a favour,’ Andy said.

  Above them, waves crashed against the hull. The fish-hold hatch rang against the metal cladding like the clapper of a bell. Yet Freddy had a sensation of silence.

  ‘You murdered Karen for threatening to blow the whistle on your scam.’ Freddy was too outraged to be afraid.

  ‘Well done, sis. You should be a detective. Munday would have taken over Power’s. It’s been in our family for generations. It’s a dynasty. We could carry it on together.’

  ‘But you had an alibi. The golf club. Kirsty said…’ Freddy fumbled for the words; her mind wouldn’t work.

  ‘If Kirsty said I was there, I was there. Not my fault if she got her timings wrong.’ Andy shrugged.

  ‘Mo Munday said Karen was seeing someone. It was you,’ Ricky shouted above the crash of the waves. His eyes were wild.

  ‘Karen was the last girl I’d shag. You couldn’t pay me. It was strictly business.’ Andy had killed a woman, but still Freddy was shocked by his brutal language. She was in a living nightmare.

  ‘Did you kill Daniel?’ she forced herself to ask.

  ‘He saved me the trouble. He did it all by himself. His girlfriend will keep her mouth shut.’

  ‘Not Daisy too. Where would it have stopped?’ Freddy couldn’t believe she was having this conversation with her brother. She had risked her life, comin
g on the boat to prove to Andy that Ricky was a criminal. Instead she had discovered that Andy was a murderer.

  ‘I didn’t mean to kill Karen. I lost it. Karen taunted me. Like Dad used to. Laughing in my face how I was useless. What else was I meant to do!’ Freddy saw the little boy who was jeered at by his father, belittled and hit. Her compassion was all gone. Nothing justified murder.

  ‘Andy, you don’t mean that,’ Freddy heard herself say. From the look on his face, she could see Andy did mean it. She didn’t know her brother.

  Another wave smashed against the hull, the boat tipped. The storm was overhead. Sheets of water lashed the deck.

  ‘You killed Karen. You as good as killed Daniel. He wouldn’t have crashed if he hadn’t been so upset.’ Ricky was catching up with what Andy had done. Freddy felt idiotic relief that at least Ricky wasn’t a killer.

  ‘I didn’t hear you complain when we were raking it in. You were the one who increased the mesh size of the nets, to limit the catch to plate-size fish and lose the small fry.’ Andy was dragging Ricky down with him.

  ‘Who gives a toss about the holes in the net,’ Freddy blazed at her brothers. ‘Two people have died so you can get rich.’ She tried to see through the miasma of crimes.

  ‘Come in with us.’ Andy grabbed hold of a pipe on the galley ceiling as the vessel heeled. ‘Climate change is the state’s excuse to shut down the ordinary guy, wreck our livelihood. Stupid laws cooked up by Whitehall bean counters. C’mon, guys, it’ll be a proper family business. Down the line we’ll sell to Norway and retire before we’re fifty. We all win.’

  ‘You’ll be caught eventually,’ Freddy said.

  ‘Not me.’ Andy clung to the pipe. ‘I only buy the fish. I have to trust my suppliers.’ He had kept himself clean but made sure that Ricky was up to his neck.