by Leo McNeir
Anne went back through the cabin to pick up mooring stakes to hold Sally Ann securely while they dealt with the other boat.
“How do we tie this one up?” she said to Ralph. “There’s nothing we can fasten it to here.”
Ralph reached out to High Jinx and pulled on the forward mooring rope that hung down into the water. He could feel the weight of something on the end and had a fair idea what it was. Sure enough, a mooring stake broke the surface. It was made of steel with a loop near the top forming a letter P, and the rope was fastened through the loop. Ralph took hold of it, feeling slimy mud where it had dragged in the canal bottom. He knelt down on the bank and swirled it in the water to wash it clean and wiped it, and his hands, on the grass. Marnie came up to join them. In the field sloping down from the canal behind them, several cows were staring curiously in their direction, chewing the cud.
“The stake must’ve worked itself loose,” Marnie observed.
“Looks like it,” said Ralph. He took the hammer from Anne and secured the mooring stake firmly. He knocked it into the ground so that only the loop at the head was visible with the rope still in place. “The soil’s not very firm here. It probably got loosened by boats going by without slowing down.”
Marnie walked along the bank inspecting the boat. The curtains were drawn, and there was no sign of occupancy. Now that they had made it secure there was nothing left to do, so they untied Sally Ann and pushed her off.
“That’s better,” said Marnie. “A bit of action to clear the cobwebs, take our mind off things, even if only for a few minutes.”
Ralph nodded vaguely. He had a serious expression on his face and was looking back down the canal towards the boat they had tied up.
“What’s up?” Marnie asked.
“That boat. Did anything strike you as odd about it?”
“Apart from it blocking the whole canal, you mean?”
“It looked abandoned,” Anne suggested. “Like the Mary Celeste. Someone had left it there and gone off without making sure it was safe.”
“Gone off where?” said Ralph.
Anne shrugged. “Dunno.”
“I see what you mean,” said Marnie. “It wasn’t tied up on the towpath side. So where had the people gone ... across the field of cows?”
21
Next morning, Marnie was braced for the arrival of the paparazzi at any time, but all was quiet on the Knightly St John front. Every few minutes she would look towards the window expecting to see strangers charging about outside, clutching notebooks and cameras. But by mid-morning nothing had disturbed the peace of Glebe Farm. Anne got up to put the kettle on and went over to look out of the window.
“Any sign of the Apaches?” Marnie asked.
“Not yet.” Anne cocked her head on one side. “But I think ... ah yes. Not the Apaches, Marnie. It’s the Seventh Cavalry.”
Marnie walked over to join her. “Sergeant Marriner, but no Bartlett. Interesting.”
Marriner got out of the car and opened the boot. He was accompanied by a young woman, and together they approached the office barn, each carrying black plastic sacks. Marnie opened the door to let them in, and they set the sacks down on the floor by her desk.
“Good morning, Sergeant Marriner and ... it’s Cathy, isn’t it?”
“Well remembered,” said the young woman brightly. She extended a hand. “Cathy Lamb. I haven’t seen you since ...”
“Since a time we try not to think about too much. Can I offer you both coffee?”
“That’d be very welcome,” said Marriner.
Anne immediately headed for the kitchen area while Marnie looked in the sacks. They contained the clothes that had been taken away for examination, everything carefully folded and stacked in neat piles.
“Thank you for taking so much trouble with them.”
“That was Cathy,” said Marriner, taking a seat.
“So you found nothing, just like I said. Have you brought everything back?”
“All but the ear-ring. Forensic wanted to hang onto it a bit longer.”
“Fine. It won’t incriminate me. You know that, don’t you? I had nothing whatever to do with the attack on that man.”
“How did he know your name?” said Cathy Lamb.
Marnie shook her head. “It’s a mystery to me. But most people on the canal round here know me for one reason or another. Perhaps he’d seen me before in connection with the murder last year. The whole place was crawling with media people then. You’ll have to ask him.”
“We will,” said Marriner, “when we catch up with him.”
“What do you mean ... catch up with him?”
“He’s gone,” said Lamb.
“Where?”
“To a private hospital in another area.”
“You’ve lost him?” said Marnie. “You’ve let him go?”
Marriner accepted a mug from Anne. “He wasn’t a suspect. His bosses moved him as soon as he came out of Intensive Care.”
“So what happens now?”
“As far as you’re concerned, nothing. We’ve been told he’s not pressing any charges against you.”
“But if it’s a criminal matter, surely it doesn’t depend on him pressing charges.”
“Marnie!” Anne exclaimed. “Whose side are you on?”
“That’s true,” said Marriner. “But if he now says he was confused because of his head injury, there’s not much we can do about his testimony.”
They all fell into a thoughtful silence.
“Well if it’s any consolation,” Marnie began, “I didn’t assault him, neither did my friends. You can be sure of that.”
“But why were you there at that time?” Lamb asked, as if making casual conversation.
“I told Mr Bartlett. We were at the boatyard on legitimate business, a project we’re working on. They’ll confirm that at the yard. Ask Stevie, she’ll tell you. We heard a noise on the opposite side of the canal and went over to check it out. There was no-one there, nothing to see. That’s the truth.”
Marnie felt relieved at telling them such a good story, almost the whole truth, but giving nothing away. Convincing.
“Give me a break, Marnie,” Marriner said, looking at her over his mug.
“You’re getting to be as bad as your boss. Why don’t you believe me?”
“You don’t need me to answer that. Just tell me what’s really going on.” He sounded weary.
Any minute now, he would be asking for details of her whereabouts over the last few days.
“Look, Mr Marriner, Cathy ...” She looked at them each in turn, with her most sincere expression. “I promise there’s nothing illegal going on, but it is private and confidential. You’re going to have to trust me.”
Marriner drained his coffee and stood up. “The DCI will be delighted when I report that back to him. It’ll make his day.”
“It’s the best I can do. It’s all I can do.”
“Okay, but if it turns out that something’s happening that you should have divulged, you could end up in deep trouble.”
Marnie watched the car reverse out of the yard and heard it move off up the track. Relieved at no questions being asked about their absence over the weekend, she turned to Anne. “That I should have divulged. Only the police talk like that, surely.”
*
“You don’t believe her, do you sarge?” Cathy was holding on to the grab handle as the police Cavalier bumped up the track.
Marriner steered round the ruts. “I’ll swear she leaves the track like this to put us off coming down here. She’ll be getting a Land Rover next, or a tank. And I expect you think she’s telling the truth.”
“Of course she is.”
“Is that female intuition, or solidarity?” He jerked the steering wheel to miss a pothole, and they both swayed in their seats.
“No. She is telling the truth.”
Marriner grunted. “Perhaps I am getting as bad as Bartlett.”
“It’s what she�
��s not telling us that bothers me,” said Cathy. “She’s definitely up to something.”
Marriner looked sideways at her. “So that makes two of us getting like the boss.” He smiled and immediately swore as the car caught a bump and he hit his head against the roof.
*
Minutes later, the phone rang in the office barn. Andrew was reporting in to HQ. He sounded deflated.
“Hi, Marnie. We’ve had quite a morning.”
“Paparazzi?”
“What’s the singular of paparazzi?”
“One too many. What’s happened?”
“Our visitor came back, just by himself.”
“Tell me about it.”
*
They had tried to make the yard look like normal in case anyone was watching them. Business as usual. Andrew and Cliff, the engineer, were conferring on a customer’s boat, squatting in its engine room. Anthony was tucked away in the cabin, and Kate was on the wharfside perched on a folding chair, sketching the bridge, her bag lying on the ground at her feet. A car pulled up and a man walked over to where she was sitting. Andrew, his head upside down examining the gearbox, did not see him arrive. Kate looked up from the sketchpad as he approached.
“Good morning. I’ve come about the boat.”
“Which one was that?”
“I saw the man here on Saturday. We were talking about that red one. I understand it’s for sale. I’d like to look over it.”
“For sale?” Kate looked confused. “I didn’t realise we’d had instructions from the owner.”
“Well, as I’m here, I may as well have a look. I’ve come all this way to see it. It won’t take long.”
Kate looked over to where Andrew and Cliff were working, but they were both out of sight. “Just a moment, please. I’ll get the key.”
Kate shouldered her bag and went to the cottage, returning a minute later to find the visitor already standing on the red oxide boat’s counter by the door. She opened up and led the way into the cabin, leaving her bag hanging on the tiller.
The man looked surprised; the boat was totally empty. Not a dish in a cupboard, not a towel in the bathroom, stripped bare, the whole thing, just as Marnie had told them to do on the phone the day before. The visitor walked through the boat, quickly opening every drawer and cupboard. Without comment he turned and walked out. Kate paused to close cupboard doors and straighten the bed cover.
She emerged to find the man standing on the bank examining a sketchbook that he had taken from her bag. Before she could protest, he handed it back, complimenting Kate on her skill. He strode across the yard, climbed into the car and drove off, as Andrew climbed out from the engine room and hurried across to where Kate was standing.
They opened the sketchbook, page after page of drawings of their last journey. Prominent among them were studies of a man working the boat and locks, handling sacks of coal, dispensing diesel. One drawing was a portrait. It was very lifelike, the detailing of the bone structure and eyes, excellent. In the bottom right-hand corner Kate had written one word. Tony.
*
It was no use. Marnie felt hot, and even though she pushed the light-weight duvet away from her, she knew she would find it virtually impossible to get back to sleep. She lay for several minutes in the darkness, hoping that Ralph’s quiet breathing would help her to relax. It was a vain hope.
She remembered Anne getting up on Sunday night to make a cup of tea. It seemed a good idea. Marnie slid quietly out from under the cover, grabbed the dressing gown from the foot of the bed and made her way along the passage to the galley. Just before switching on the light, she heard a sound that surprised her. She pricked up her ears as it grew louder and unmistakable. A boat was passing, and even at low revs Marnie recognised the familiar chugging of a Lister diesel, like the engine on Sally Ann.
Parting the curtain with a finger, Marnie was able to make out the shape slipping by, but the night was too dark for her to recognise the boat if she had known it. At the tiller she could not see clearly who was steering. Only a tiny red lamp glowed on the control panel. The boat was motoring without headlight or running lights, the steerer relying on night vision to guide the boat on its way.
Marnie hurried forward to the cratch through Ralph’s study. Noiselessly she fiddled with the bolts on the glazed doors and pushed her way out. Standing in the cratch well, she found her view no better. There was no moonlight to help her, and the sound of the engine receded, increasing briefly as the steerer accelerated to normal cruising speed. Marnie made her way back to the galley, now more wide awake than ever.
Stirring her tea at the galley table, Marnie looked up at the clock and wondered why anyone would need to be navigating on the canal at three in the morning.
22
“Are you all sorted out for your driving lesson ... flat shoes, clothes you’re wearing?”
Anne looked up from her computer. “Yes. I’m going like this. Jeans are fine for the lessons. I’m keeping the mini-skirt for the actual test.”
Marnie smiled across the office. “You haven’t got a mini-skirt, have you?”
“I’m saving up.”
“Oh well, shouldn’t take long. Mini-skirts don’t cost much.”
“I know. It’s the legs I’m saving up for.”
Marnie laughed. It took an effort of will. Her mind was with Andrew and Kate plus their crewman, whose cover was almost certainly blown. Over breakfast they had begun discussing tactics. It was a short conversation. Their plan was now reduced to the working boats scuttling away at four miles per hour with the paparazzi probably not far behind them.
Anne yawned. “Oh dear, this is becoming a habit, this not sleeping.”
“Not sleeping? Why not?“
”I seem to have too many things running round inside my head. I’d better not fall asleep during my driving lesson.”
Marnie was worried. They were all feeling the strain, and she was the one forcing the pace. The last thing she wanted was to make Anne suffer.
“I didn’t sleep much either,” she said. “I was too hot, though I expect that wasn’t the only reason. I followed your advice and got up to make some tea.”
“Me too,” said Anne.
“Again? How often are you doing this?”
“That was just the second time, last night and Sunday.”
“Something strange happened when I got up,” Marnie began.
Anne’s eyes widened. “Yes. A boat went by,” she said. “In the dark, without any lights on.”
“That’s right! How on earth did you know that, Anne?”
“I saw it too.”
“How? You can’t see the canal from your loft.”
“I, er, got up and went for a walk.”
Marnie looked horrified. “In the middle of the night, in the pitch dark, all by yourself?”
Anne’s expression changed to a smile. “I only walked through the spinney to the canalside over by Sally. I was probably standing just a few metres from where you were when the boat passed.”
“Did you see which boat it was?”
“Not really. There wasn’t any light to go by, not even starlight. I had the impression it might’ve been that boat we tied up the other day.”
“High Jinx?”
“Like I said, I couldn’t be sure. But I did notice it sounded like Sally Ann.”
“Lister engine,” Marnie agreed. “Anne, you’ve really got to be more careful. I don’t think you should wander around alone in the dark. It might not be safe.”
“Why not?”
“Well, for a start there are muggers about. Look what happened to Frank Day.”
“Muggers? Marnie, I don’t think muggers lurk in the spinney at night-time.”
“Then, mad axe-murderers and rapists.”
Anne laughed. “Marnie, this is Glebe Farm. It’s the safest place in the world. What harm could anyone possibly come to here?”
*
An hour later, soon after nine, Marnie walked quickly
through the spinney. She wanted to talk with Ralph about his arrangements at Oxford. His post as Professor at All Saints College and his sabbatical were almost over, and she wanted to know his plans for the next few days. She tried to imagine the spinney as it had been during the night when Anne came that way. Anne was right. It seemed hard to imagine this quiet place holding any dangers.
*
Just after Marnie went out, Anne heard tyres crunching on the gravel in the yard. She glanced at the window, expecting to see the red post van, but it was an unfamiliar car that drew up. She ran to the door to call Marnie, but she was well into the spinney, and Anne did not want to shout after her. By the time the visitor opened the office door, Anne was sitting at her desk engrossed in the data on her computer screen.
“Oh, good morning. Can I help you?”
Tallish, dark slicked-back hair, black leather jacket. Designer black leather jacket.
“I’m interested in a boat.” No preamble. A clipped London accent.
“A boat? I’m afraid we don’t normally do designs for boat interiors.” She pointed to a display screen covered in photographs and drawings of their designs.
“I wasn’t looking for a design. I’m interested in buying a boat.”
Anne looked confused. “We are interior designers,” she said slowly.
“But you’ve got a boat.”
“Yes. But we live on it, temporarily. It’s not for sale.”
“Look, is there anyone I can talk to about this?” His tone was becoming impatient faced with this thick office junior.
“I’m the only one in the office this morning.”
“All right. Let me start again. You have a boat here, right?”
“Yes.”
“And there was another boat, a grey one.”
“Green,” said Anne.
“Green?”
“Our other boat’s green, sage green with gold lettering.”
“No. This was grey.”
“We only have two boats: dark blue and cream; green and gold.”
