A Wide Berth

by Stella Whitelaw

  The one drawback of the island was the lack of regular refuse collection. Piles of rubbish bags were growing by the roadsides and would soon form immovable walls, and some of the outer beaches were awash with plastic debris.

  ‘Not going ashore?’ It was Daniel Webster taking some well-deserved time off. He’d had little sleep during the hurricane. ‘I know some decent little seafood restaurants.’

  ‘If that’s an invitation, it sounds lovely, thank you, but no.’ I didn’t remind him of his invitation yesterday that never materialized. ‘I think I should stay and do my duty. Debbie will enjoy spending her money on trinkets and souvenirs. I may go ashore for twenty minutes in the late afternoon, simply for one of those delicious fruit punches.’

  ‘Harry’s Bar? The one with all the photos of filmstars tacked to the bamboo walls? Sinatra, Grant, Bogart? Terrific place.’

  ‘I honestly don’t remember.’

  Daniel grinned. ‘I’m not surprised. His fruit punches are particularly lethal, especially when drunk on an empty stomach. Have a sandwich first. See you later, Casey.’ He swung away and down the gangway. He was in trim khaki shorts and an open-necked white shirt. His legs were brown and looked good.

  Debbie was next to go ashore. She also wore shorts, but the skimpiest I’d ever seen, and a one-shoulder crop top that would give her a funny tan if she was not careful. She was swinging a big bag.

  ‘Going swimming,’ she said, patting her bag. ‘Can’t wait.’

  ‘Keep walking past the two beaches where the bars are and everyone else stops,’ I said. ‘Then you’ll find lots of little private coves with takamaka trees for shade and the bluest water lapping the sand. You’ll find one where you can be alone. But give yourself plenty of time to get back to the ship. The sea is very shallow. You might walk further than you think.’

  ‘Sounds idyllic,’ said Debbie. ‘I’ve got my suntan lotion, my hat and a bottle of water. I’ll be OK.’

  Even Judith Skinner was going ashore. She was almost unrecognizable in fairly suburban cut-off fawn trousers and a summery top. She was already wearing very dark glasses and a big hat, and she hadn’t left the ship.

  ‘I rarely go ashore, so I deserve this. My little lot are all recovering nicely,’ she said. ‘They are in good hands and won’t miss me for a couple of hours. I fancy treating myself to a pearl necklace.’

  ‘They reckon on getting twenty pearls out of every hundred oysters.’

  ‘That’s a lot of oysters to eat.’

  ‘And somewhere there’s a dress decorated with one hundred thousand pearls.’

  ‘Not my style.’

  ‘You won’t know which necklace to chose. But don’t buy at the first stall you see, however tempting a price they offer. Have a good look round first. Eventually, you’ll be glad that you didn’t buy the first necklace you saw.’

  ‘You are a fount of useless information, Casey,’ she said.

  ‘Even the misshapen pearls can be lovely.’

  ‘It’s the same with human beings,’ she said, going down the gangway.

  I was also the object of commiseration from everyone who knew me. Poor Casey, having to stay on board. But I had things to do and I wanted the ship to myself. Pierre sauntered off, immaculate in a white suit, his Panama hat tilted. He nodded in my direction, but didn’t speak to me. He’d taken in that I was wearing the Conway uniform, therefore staying on the ship.

  Edmund Morgan came and stood beside me. He looked morose and preoccupied.

  ‘Not going ashore?’ I asked.

  ‘Boots won’t let me in case there is another … er … unfortunate incident. Two mysterious deaths on one cruise is two too many, he says. As if my hanging around on deck is going to stop another woman from being strangled.’

  I must have gone white.

  ‘Sorry, Casey. Didn’t mean to sound so callous. It just came out. But as I said, what can I do?’

  ‘Your presence can be reassuring,’ I said. ‘Like a bobby on the street. People always feel safer if they see a policeman walking about.’

  ‘Fat lot I could do to stop a murder,’ he said.

  The man needed a good shake and some sense pounded in to him. ‘I’ll tell you what we are going to do. Today you and I are going to comb the ship, talk to every crew member, bar steward, cabin steward, waiter, find out when they last saw Tracy Coleman or Lorna Fletcher.’

  ‘That’s a big order.’ He was already dumbing it down. ‘No time.’

  ‘No, it isn’t. Write every sighting or non-sighting down. Something will come out of it. We’ll find out some little detail that will help Bruce Everton in his investigations.’

  ‘What’s a non-sighting?’

  I stifled a sigh. ‘When they should have been somewhere and weren’t there.’ He was no wiser. How did Edmund ever get this job? He must have pulled more than a few strings.

  He cheered up fractionally. ‘We’ll do this together? You and me?’

  ‘You and me, together,’ I said, flashing a totally false come-hither smile. He fell for it and cheered up immensely. He saw lots of possibilities for accidental intimacy.

  ‘Great,’ he said. ‘I’ll go and get some notebooks.’

  Notebooks. Good God, he was going to fight off a murderer with a notebook. He hurried away, a sort of spring in his step. The nearest the man could get to a spring.

  ‘Not going ashore, Miss Jones?’

  It was the hundredth time I’d been asked, but I had to be civil. This time it was Captain Luke Wellington himself. He was spruce in his white uniform. The gold braid always dazzled. I shook my head, gave him the smile I reserved for the captain. He seemed to like it, but he wasn’t taken in. Much too sensible.

  ‘Nor you, Sir?’

  ‘Paperwork to catch up on. It’s the only chance I ever get. When we are not going anywhere and safely parked.’

  ‘Hurricane Ricky must have been a horrendous time for you and the crew.’

  ‘It was a little stressful,’ he said. ‘But the original Aveline was a sturdy ship, and the new hull and stabilizers did a good job. Last thing we expected, though. It veered suddenly, moments after the last weather forecast. It took us all by surprise.’

  ‘You and your crew did very well. It was quite frightening.’

  ‘I know,’ said Captain Wellington. ‘Even I was alarmed at times, though I had every faith in the strength of the ship. They say you are safer in a ship than in a building during a hurricane. Quite an eventful cruise. Hope we don’t have any problems with pirates.’

  ‘Pirates? Are we likely to?’

  He coughed to cover a chuckle. ‘It was a sort of a joke, Miss Jones. I’m better at steering a ship than at making jokes.’

  ‘That’s a relief. It was a fairly feeble joke.’

  ‘They used to have a lot of trouble with pirates around these seas. The Spanish treasure ships attracted the pirates, especially the ones laden with pearls. The Spanish built some forts on Margarita, a star-shaped one at Pampatar and one at La Asuncion. You can still see them today.’

  ‘At least we are not laden with pearls.’

  ‘Some of our female passengers are laden with the equivalent. There’s a lot of jewellery flashed around at the captain’s cocktail parties. Sometimes I need dark glasses. Nice talking to you, Miss Jones. Have an easy day.’

  He did a mild sort of salute, hand almost to cap, and walked away, doing his morning rounds before catching up with his paperwork. I hoped he’d have an easy day, too. The sun was rolling over in bales of heat.

  Our clean sweep of crew and hotel staff, cabin stewards and entertainers took several hours, and also took a toll on our voices. I grew quite hoarse. Edmund was flagging. He hadn’t worked so hard for days. Weeks, probably. We both needed frequent drinks and breaks. My back was starting to ache, and I hadn’t had backache for years.

  Edmund threw himself down on a chair on deck and flipped open his notebook. ‘I can’t make any sense of this,’ he said. ‘No one seems to have seen Tracy
at all that day. She must have gone ashore.’

  ‘We know where she was. She was with the Russian pianist. But someone must have seen her before she went to his cabin, and later when she left. Romanoff says that she did leave him about four in the afternoon.’

  ‘Then she could have gone ashore.’

  ‘But she didn’t. Her swipe card wasn’t used.’ The words fell from my mouth without thought. I’d been saying the same thing all day. Edmund didn’t listen. ‘We need to find out where she went to after leaving Romanoff. She must have been somewhere between then and her death.’

  ‘No one seems to know,’ he said morosely.

  ‘Someone must know. She didn’t suddenly become invisible and flit around the decks like Blithe Spirit.’

  ‘Like who?’

  ‘It’s a character in a play.’

  ‘And that Mrs Fletcher. No one seems to have seen her, either. Did she only emerge from her cabin for the quiz? She must have done something else.’

  ‘I checked at the beauty salon, and she never had her hair or nails done. She always looked very smart. I suppose she did it herself in the cabin. The librarian brought her a selection of books, mostly novels.’

  Passengers circulated around the cafeteria, bars and lounges. And, of course, the decks. Passengers were creatures of habit. They tended to have favourite places on deck and made a beeline for what they saw as their spot every day. John Fletcher had his spot on deck. It was sheltered and private, but no one ever saw his wife join him on deck.

  ‘It was as if they weren’t together. Mr and Mrs Fletcher shared a cabin and appeared in the dining room together, but for the rest of the day, they were living totally separate lives.’

  ‘Except for the quiz,’ Edmund added.

  ‘Yes, except for the quiz.’

  ‘Funny way to enjoy a cruise.’

  ‘Doesn’t this all seem very fishy to you, Edmund?’

  ‘Fishy? I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘Both women were travelling on the same ship. Both women keeping a very low profile. Then both women die, within days of each other,’ I said. ‘There has to be a connection.’

  ‘Well, if you say so.’

  ‘Think about it.’ I stood up and smoothed down my rumpled skirt. Passengers were starting to return to the ship. I planned to stand at the head of the gangway and see if there was anyone who might be able to give me helpful information. There was a spare minute to tidy up in a washroom. My hair was veering towards nest status. No birds in sight.

  ‘Why is there a blue band painted on all the trees, Casey?’ a woman asked me as her purchases went through the scanning machine.

  ‘The paint deters the ants. It stops them climbing up. Did you see the frigate birds and the pelicans?’

  ‘And all the wild dogs in the rocks.’

  Everyone seemed to have enjoyed their tours. They returned in good spirits, ready for showers, an excellent meal and even more spectacular entertainment — though I doubted if I would be introducing the shows tonight. But I would still wear a smashing dress. I’d brought them to wear, not simply to hang on a hanger.

  An elderly man came slowly up the gangway, holding on to the rail with one hand, and using a walking stick with the other. He looked hot and tired. I didn’t recognize him. Somehow I hadn’t seen him before. He was one of the many who merged into the crowd.

  ‘Have you had a good day?’ I asked. ‘Ready for a good meal and tonight’s show?’

  ‘I don’t think so, Miss. My bed calls me.’

  ‘That’s a shame,’ I said. ‘It’s a really excellent show tonight.’

  ‘I’m sure it is, but I prefer a bottle of firewater brandy and an old film in my cabin. Not one for mixing.’

  I felt sorry for him. Cruising is a lot about mixing, but he seemed to be a loner.

  ‘Enjoy your film,’ I said as he went through the security check. His carrier bag went through the scanning machine. It clinked.

  He nodded and headed straight towards the nearest lift, his back bowed. He seemed to need help, but there wasn’t a lot I could do. It was his choice to spend the cruise on his own. A sad choice.

  I went over to the officer swiping the cruise cards in the machine. ‘Who was that?’ I asked. ‘That elderly gentleman with a stick?’

  ‘That was Henry Fellows,’ replied the officer. ‘Stocking up for another bender.’

  *

  I was talking to another passenger, my mind still full of sympathy for the old gentleman, when suddenly someone grasped my arm and swung me round. I nearly fell from the suddenness of the jerk. I came face to face with Fiona MacDonald. Her mouth was tight, her face contorted with fury.

  ‘How dare you?’ she hissed. ‘How dare you go around asking everyone about my sister?’

  I couldn’t stop watching her mouth. I half-expected a serpent’s tongue to suddenly dart out. It was time to duck.

  ‘Please let go of my arm, Mrs MacDonald. I’m sorry if I have offended you in any way. Let’s go and talk somewhere quieter.’

  ‘You leave her alone!’ she shouted. ‘I won’t allow it.’

  ‘I’m sure there’s some misunderstanding. I was trying to discover the truth about her death. It seemed very strange that no one ever saw her around the ship, only at dinner and the quiz nights.’

  Fiona was trying to contain her rage. I couldn’t understand why she was so angry with me.

  ‘I’ll tell you why no one ever saw Lorna around the ship. Because she couldn’t stand people. She had a phobia. She couldn’t stand crowds of people or big places. It came on slowly, menopausal. She had an irrational fear of crowds and open spaces. She suffered from agoraphobia.’

  ‘I didn’t know …’ I began.

  ‘That’s why we always had the table in the corner, in the alcove, well away from everyone. And you spoiled it all. You good as murdered her. You murdered my little sister.’

  17. Mayreau

  Throughout the early hours, the Aveline passed north of the islands of Grenada and Carriacou. We were on our way to the private island of Mayreau, a small, unspoiled and practically unreachable sandy outcrop of rock.

  We had to anchor far out to sea and let the port anchor hold us to the seabed. Passengers would go ashore on the tenders. But, for once, there were no tours or trips or coaches waiting on the shore. The only organized trips were by schooner or catamaran, motorboat or glass-bottomed boat. The castaway tour sounded perfect, with a delicious lobster lunch on an island no bigger than a football pitch with sugar-white sand and warm blue sea. It even had a name. Morpion Island.

  There was a single, perilously steep road that went up to the village of Mayreau on the top of the hill. It was a hard, sweaty walk in the sun. But a couple of enterprising taxis would run passengers up the two-minute journey for ten dollars.

  The drivers were on their way towards making a healthy bank balance, island size. Only those with good legs and good lungs actually managed the one-in-four climb to the village. The climb required lots of stops to enjoy the spectacular sea view and to catch your breath.

  And when you got there, the village consisted of two roads. It had a diminutive church with a conical wooden roof right at the top of the hill and a small single-storied school. There was the usual scattering of local bars, a few shops and one enterprising hotel called Dennis’s Hideaway, advertising a pint-sized pool.

  I was there, enjoying the island, all because of Pierre.

  *

  I hoped I had earned a few hours ashore as I had been on duty all of yesterday and half the night. But Pierre thought otherwise. I was working at a computer when he stormed into the office.

  ‘I understand you spent most of yesterday wandering round the ship making totally unnecessary enquiries and upsetting the passengers,’ he said, flinging some papers onto the desk, his face set in grim lines.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘You were supposed to be running activities and keeping the passengers occupied. Instead, you did yo
ur own thing, without my permission, and were intrusive and objectionable.’

  I wasn’t standing for this. So I stood up.

  ‘Firstly, it is none of your business what I was doing and I didn’t need your permission. Secondly, I had organized activities for the handful of passengers left on board, but most of them preferred to be left alone, to read, sunbathe, drink or play bridge.’

  ‘Your usual excuses.’

  ‘And who of the passengers complained and said I was being intrusive? I’d like names, please. And I’d like to see the written complaint.’

  ‘There’s not an actual written complaint. It was a verbal complaint. To me personally.’

  ‘By whom?’

  ‘I’m not at liberty to tell you.’

  ‘For heaven’s sake, Pierre, don’t act like a complete idiot. If I am being reprimanded about some complaint, then I’m entitled to know who complained and what was said.’ I could feel my temper rising and I rarely lose my temper.

  ‘I find this attitude unacceptable, Casey.’ He went to the coffee percolator and poured himself a cup. He didn’t offer me one. Just as well. I might have thrown it over him, again. ‘You were sent out here to me as a replacement of the highest category. I find this difficult to believe.’ And I found it difficult to believe this was happening. The man was impossible. Suddenly, the funny side struck me and it was beyond me to smother a smile.

  ‘You can’t mean this,’ I said with a laugh, hardly knowing where to look or how to contain my amusement. Pierre sounded so pompous and ridiculous. He also looked pompous and ridiculous. ‘I’ve done nothing wrong. Tracy Coleman was one of our team, our staff, and a valued colleague. Of course, we all want to find out what really happened.’

  ‘Not at the expense of your proper duties. I’m grounding you, Casey, for the duration of your contract on the Aveline.’ Then he realized the use of that phrase was hardly appropriate on board ship. ‘I mean, I am confining you to your cabin.’

  I shouldn’t have laughed. That had been the final insult.

  ‘You can’t do this.’

  ‘I certainly can.’