“That’s what she said,” Fenella replied. “She blamed the cleaning staff for misplacing the second.”
“Surely they have master keys,” Constable Corlett said.
Daniel made another note in his notebook. “Did you happen to notice the customer service woman’s name?” he asked.
Fenella thought back to the large and chaotic room where the desk had been located. She remembered seeing a nametag on the woman’s jacket, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t recall what the tag said.
“Is it possible that it was blank?” she asked the inspector after a moment. “I know she was wearing a tag with the Isle of Man Ferries company logo on it, but I can’t for the life of me picture any letters on it.”
Daniel made another note. “Anything is possible,” he said. “I’m sure once we’ve questioned all of the staff, we’ll find her and her story will match yours,” he said.
“Does someone have to question all of the passengers as well?” Fenella asked. “There must be hundreds of them.”
“And they’ll all be questioned, at least briefly,” Daniel said. “We’re hoping we can use the video footage of the ship being loaded to rule out most of the passengers, though. Most, if not all, of them boarded after the man was killed.”
“Do you know who the man was?” Fenella asked.
“If I did, I couldn’t tell you,” he said. “But I don’t, at least not yet. Once the crime scene team has taken all of their photos and gathered initial evidence, they’ll search him for identification. I’m hoping he’ll have his passport or driving license in his pocket, but that seems unlikely.”
“He wasn’t staff?” she wondered.
“He might have been. At this point, we don’t know anything about him at all.” Daniel finished the last few words on his feet. “As I said, I can’t tell you anything anyway,” he added as Fenella stood up. “And it’s probably best if we don’t socialize during the investigation. I’m sure you understand.”
Fenella did understand, but that didn’t stop her from feeling a pang of something she wasn’t sure she wanted to identify. The look that flashed over Daniel’s face looked suspiciously like relief to Fenella, which didn’t help with the feeling in the pit of her stomach.
You’re still seasick, she told herself as she followed Constable Corlett back down the corridor. That sad and slightly sick feeling is just a result of being rocked back and forth on that miserable boat for so long.
“If you could just wait here for a little while longer,” the constable said to her as he ushered her back into the waiting room. “The inspector might have some more questions for you shortly.”
Fenella thought about arguing. She’d answered all of the questions she’d been asked, and Daniel knew exactly where to find her if he needed to talk to her again. Knowing everyone else was watching her made her bite her tongue. She wasn’t about to start arguing with a police constable in front of an audience of strangers. Instead, she nodded and made her way back over to the same chair she’d been sitting in earlier. Settling back, she shut her eyes again.
“I’m sorry that we’re keeping you all waiting,” the constable said loudly to the group. “Inspector Robinson will be talking to each one of you shortly. We greatly appreciate your patience as we begin our investigation.”
“But what’s happened?” a woman called out. “What’s being investigated?”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t answer any questions,” the man replied. “The inspector will share what he can with you when he speaks to you.”
“But…” the woman began again.
Constable Corlett held up a hand. “I really need to get back to work,” he said. “Thank you for your patience.”
He turned and walked out of the room, leaving an uncomfortable silence behind him. Fenella breathed deeply and tried to think about happy things. She was just contemplating buying Katie a new collar with sparkles and glitter when an angry voice shouted across the room.
“Hey, you’ve spent time with the police already,” the man yelled, making the words sound like an accusation. “Tell us what’s going on.”
Chapter Three
Fenella sat up, startled. “I’m sorry, were you talking to me?” she asked.
“Yeah,” the man replied. He stood up and Fenella got a good look at him. He didn’t look much older than twenty in his torn jeans and slightly grubby sweatshirt. His dark brown hair looked like it needed washing. It hung in an untidy mop around his face, which also would have benefited from the application of some soap and water. A few stray whiskers dotted his chin and the top of his upper lip. “You must know what’s going on. Come on, talk.”
Fenella shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I really don’t know anything and even if I did, I don’t think I’m meant to talk about it.”
“You’re American,” the man said, spitting out the last word as if it were a curse.
“I grew up in America,” Fenella corrected him. “But I was born on the island.”
“I think that’s quite enough bickering,” a woman said from one of the other chairs. “We’re stuck together for now. We should all get to know one another better.”
People glanced around at the other occupants of the room and then resumed looking out windows or down at the floor. The woman who had spoken stood up and cleared her throat.
“I’ll start,” she announced. Fenella looked at the grey-haired woman. She must have been somewhere in her sixties. Her hair was short and her clothes were sensible and looked comfortable, but they were not stylish.
“I’m Charlotte Masters,” the woman continued. “I retired last year and I try to travel as much as I can afford. Unfortunately, I’m a miserable sailor, so I always book a cabin and spend the entire journey lying down. You can go next,” she said encouragingly to the young man who was still standing up at his seat.
“Me?” the man gulped. “I don’t think…”
“Oh just indulge the woman,” another woman called. “We’ve nothing else to do, after all. Sitting in silence isn’t exactly enjoyable, is it?”
The man nodded and then shook his head, frowning. “Okay, whatever,” he said eventually. “I’m Justin Newmarket. I’m twenty-four and I’m going to Liverpool to spend a weekend with some of my mates.”
“Do you get seasick, dear?” Charlotte Masters asked. “Is that why you booked a cabin?”
The man turned scarlet. “No, of course not,” he said indignantly. “I booked a cabin because, well, I was hoping, that is, I thought I might meet a young woman on board. I thought a cabin would give us a place to spend some quiet time together, if you know what I mean.”
Fenella knew exactly what he meant and the idea made her feel slightly ill. Or maybe that was just seasickness. Suddenly very glad that she wasn’t in her twenties anymore herself, she waited to see whom Charlotte would interrogate next.
“Right, next,” Charlotte said, shifting her gaze to the woman who’d encouraged young Justin to speak.
“Oh, I’m Brenda Proper, and this is my husband, Nick,” she said. Brenda was a plump woman with very short grey hair and thick glasses. Her husband was thin and bald. He was wearing reading glasses while he flipped his way through a newspaper he’d brought with him off the ferry. When his wife said his name, he glanced up and nodded briefly before returning to the paper.
“We’re both retired,” Brenda said. “We’re going across to Manchester to visit my daughter and her husband and Nick’s son. We were both married before, you see. We both have grown children from our first marriages.”
“Which one of you gets sick on the ferry?” Charlotte asked.
Fenella wondered what the woman’s fascination with other people’s stomachs was all about. It seemed very odd to her.
“Oh, neither of us has a problem with sailing,” Brenda replied. “We just prefer having peace and quiet for the journey. The lounges are always full of small children and loud teenagers. We like to have a space all to ourselves where we can
just relax.”
Charlotte nodded and then glanced around. Her gaze landed on another couple who were sitting together and holding hands. Fenella’s first thought was that they were father and daughter. He was bald and pot-bellied and he reminded Fenella of her long-dead grandfather. The woman was much younger, probably in her mid-twenties, with long blonde hair caught in a simple ponytail. She was wearing a little dress that wasn’t really appropriate for April.
“Oh, I’m Harry Hampton, and this is my wife, Sherry,” the man said when he realized that everyone was staring at him. “We’re just off across to visit some family, that’s all. I’m not a great sailor, so I thought a cabin would be a good idea, even if they are quite expensive.”
“Oh, Harry, they aren’t at all,” Sherry said. “I mean, really, you can afford it. I don’t understand why you worry so much about every little expense. We’ve oodles of money in the bank.”
“Thanks to many years of hard work by myself and my dearly departed first wife,” Harry said tartly. “I’d rather not spend every penny of it in the first year of my retirement. It needs to last a good long time, you know.”
The girl shrugged and then tossed her head. “Yes, dear,” she said patronizingly.
Charlotte smiled tightly, perhaps beginning to regret ever starting the conversation. “Right, whom haven’t we met?” she asked, looking around the room.
“I’m Sarah Grasso,” a thirty-something woman who was sitting on her own said. Her brown hair was held back in a clip and her green eyes looked tired. Fenella thought she looked like someone who’d worked hard all of her life.
“My husband Robert and I are going across on a short holiday,” she continued. “I can’t imagine where he’s disappeared to, though. He was meant to go straight to the ferry after work. He works nights. We were going to meet in our cabin when I arrived, but he wasn’t there yet.” She sighed. “He probably got held up at work and missed the boat. I suppose it doesn’t really matter, as we aren’t sailing anyway.”
“Why book a cabin, if you don’t mind my asking?” Charlotte said.
“Oh, we won the holiday in some prize draw at Robert’s work,” Sarah explained. “And the prize included a cabin for the sailing.”
“How lucky for you,” Charlotte said.
“Yes, we never win anything,” Sarah said. “We were both thrilled.”
“I’m Florence March, and this is Stanley, my husband,” the last woman left introduced herself and the man with her. “We’re both retired and our children are long since grown up and flown the nest. We were just taking a short break to do some shopping and dining out, that sort of thing. We always book a cabin. We have since the children were small and we needed to keep them where we could see them.”
Fenella smiled at the woman. There was something about the pair that whispered “money” to her as she studied them. Maybe it was Florence’s beautifully cut hair or impeccable makeup. Their clothes certainly looked as if they’d been expensive, but in a deliberately inconspicuous way.
“I suppose that just leaves our American friend,” Charlotte said, turning to Fenella. “Tell us all about yourself,” she urged Fenella.
Fenella opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted when the door suddenly swung open.
“Where are the police?” the man now standing in the doorway demanded. “They can’t do this. I simply won’t allow it.”
Everyone stared at the man. He was probably sixty, with grey hair that looked as if he’d been running his hands through it vigorously for hours. Fenella studied his uniform, which was that of the ferry company. From the looks of the various ribbons and braids, whoever he was, he was important.
“The police have simply left us here,” Stanley March said after a long silence. “We haven’t seen anyone for several minutes.”
The man shook his head. “Unacceptable,” he snapped.
“And who are you?” Charlotte Masters called out.
The man glared at her for a moment and then took a deep breath. “I’m so upset, I’m behaving badly,” he said. “I do apologize. I realize none of this is your fault. I am Captain Matthew Howard. I’m in charge of the ferry that we’ve all just been escorted off of, and the police have no right…” he stopped suddenly, as his volume had been increasing dramatically.
“It certainly isn’t our fault,” Charlotte jumped in. “We’re all suffering, too. I can’t imagine what’s happened to cause the sailing to be cancelled like this. It’s simply appalling behavior by the police.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Daniel Robinson said from the doorway on the opposite wall. Everyone had been so intent on Captain Howard that they hadn’t noticed his arrival.
“Oh, I, that is, well,” Charlotte said. “I do hope you’ve come to explain yourself and then let us all back on the ferry so we can get on with our day.”
Daniel shook his head. “I’m awfully sorry, but that simply isn’t possible yet,” he said. “I will explain everything to you as quickly as I can, but investigations take time. For the moment, I’d like to have a word with Sarah Grosso, please.”
The young woman blinked a few times and then stood up slowly. “With me?” she asked. “But I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“No one is suggesting that you have,” Daniel assured her. “If you could come with me, please.”
The woman nodded and then walked slowly toward Daniel, still looking uncertain. “If you could just tell me where Robert is, I’d feel better,” she said when she reached Daniel’s side. “He must be worried about me. I’ve rung his mobile a dozen times, but he isn’t answering.”
“If you could just come with me,” Daniel repeated himself. “I’ll try to answer your questions for you.”
Sarah glanced back at the others in the room before following Daniel out through the door. As the door shut behind them, Fenella blew out a breath. There was no doubt in her mind that the body she’d found was that of the missing Robert Grosso. She didn’t envy Daniel the job of telling poor Sarah that her husband was dead.
“Well, that was odd,” Charlotte said. “I do hope Sarah isn’t in any trouble.”
“Do you know her?” Stanley March asked.
“I just met her now, when she introduced herself,” Charlotte replied. “But she seems like a lovely young woman, so worried about her husband. I suppose, under these strange circumstances, that isn’t surprising.”
“Captain Howard, does this happen regularly?” Stanley asked.
“I’ve been sailing for over thirty years and this is the first time the police have had the audacity to interfere with a sailing. I’m not having it. I shall make sure that someone loses their job over this, see if I don’t,” the man replied.
“That suggests that something serious has happened,” Stanley remarked. “Any idea what it could be?”
The man frowned. “It doesn’t matter,” he insisted. “We have our own security staff that can handle whatever arises.”
“Drugs,” Charlotte announced. “We all know the drug situation is getting out of control on the island. No doubt they found a huge stash of drugs on one of the container lorries.”
“The ferry was leaving the island, not arriving,” Nick Proper pointed out. “Or are you suggesting that someone is growing drugs here and exporting them to Liverpool?”
“Who knows what they’re getting up to in the north of the island,” Charlotte said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if there were people growing all manner of substances up there. With the prison in Jurby, there’s a steady supply of customers for them, as well.”
“I hope you aren’t suggesting that the men and women in prison in Jurby are being give access to illegal drugs,” Stanley said.
“Well, as I understand it…” Charlotte began. She stopped when Stanley held up his hand.
“If it isn’t drugs, what else might it be?” he asked.
“People trafficking,” Charlotte suggested. “I was reading an article last week about just that. Young girls
are being snatched right off the street and turned into sex slaves for wealthy Russian oligarchs. It’s horrible. One of my friends, Susan, her daughter disappeared and the police didn’t believe her that it was people trafficking. But when Chloe finally managed to get free and come home, she wasn’t the same person at all. Oh, she told her mum that she’d run off with her boyfriend but it hadn’t worked out, but I could tell that she was so traumatized by what had really happened that she’d made that story up.”
“Did the boyfriend disappear too, at the same time?” Stanley asked.
Charlotte nodded. “He did. No doubt he was trafficked as well. They take boys, too, you know.” She added the last sentence in a whisper.
“How old were they when this happened?” Florence asked.
“Oh, she was nineteen and he was twenty-two,” Charlotte said.
“So rather older than the average age for someone trafficked,” Captain Howard said. “I’d suggest her story about running away with her boyfriend was probably more likely.”
“You seem to know a lot about people trafficking,” Charlotte said, her tone accusatory.
The man nodded. “It’s part of my job. It’s highly unlikely that anyone is being taken from the Isle of Man to the United Kingdom or vice versa, but I used to sail on the Channel and I learned a lot there, none of it pleasant.”
“If it wasn’t drugs or people trafficking, what might have stopped the sailing?” Stanley asked.
“Murder,” Charlotte said dramatically.
“Murder?” Captain Howard echoed. “I think that’s highly unlikely. Perhaps some sort of accident where someone died is more likely.”
“Would the police come to investigate an accident like this?” Stanley asked.
“Maybe,” the captain shrugged. “It depends, I suppose, on what happened and how the police were notified. Whenever anything out of the ordinary happens on board, I’m meant to be notified first. Then I decide how to deal with the matter. I can only assume that whatever happened, someone rang the police directly and dragged them in without giving the proper procedures a single thought.”
Boats and Bad Guys (An Isle of Man Ghostly Cozy Book 2) Page 4
