by Celia Imrie
Next thing she knew she was sitting down.
‘Thank you,’ said Myriam to Amanda’s dance partner. ‘I think we can handle it now, ducky.’
‘Perhaps somebody should take her back to her cabin.’
Amanda looked up. They were talking about her!
‘I don’t want to go to my cabin,’ she said. ‘I want to dance with Jason Scott.’
‘He shares a cabin with me,’ the gentleman host said to Myriam. ‘I’ll get him over.’ He laughed. ‘Everyone wants to dance with Jason! You can feel quite put out, when you’re an old codger like myself.’
‘You’re all lovely,’ said Myriam. ‘What’s your name?’
‘I’m George.’
‘Thank you, George,’ said Myriam. ‘It’s so reassuring to have someone who really knows how to do the foxtrot and the rhomboid.’
The band played the final chord of the current dance.
Amanda wondered why everyone was standing above her, talking about her in hushed voices. It was like being on your deathbed. But she was here in the lovely ballroom of this gorgeous ship. What were they all looking at? She regarded the people, turning her head from side to side as each person spoke.
She couldn’t do this. She wasn’t a specimen for them to pick over.
Pressing her hands down on the arms of her chair, she managed to get back on her feet, but oh my, this ship was really swaying. She teetered forward and Jason was there to catch her.
Again, everyone pushed forward, hissing things at him now. George sloped off. That’s right, she thought. No point staying where you weren’t wanted.
Jason smiled that wonderful flashing smile of his.
‘Shall we dance?’ said Amanda, staggering into him. ‘My word, this ship is lurching tonight.’
‘I’m rather tired,’ said Jason. ‘Why don’t we sit this one out and have a coffee together?’
‘I want to dance!’ Amanda didn’t know why everyone wanted to stop her dancing. It was starting to make her feel rather cross. ‘Why is everyone so mad about coffee, all of a sudden? I want to dance with Jason Scott.’
She thought that that name meant something, but couldn’t put her finger on what it was.
‘Aren’t you friends with my son Mark?’ she asked, leaning in on Jason, then losing her balance again. ‘You’re Jason Scott, aren’t you?’
She pulled back and took another look at him.
‘You’re a lot younger than him. But you’re in some scam with Mark. Mark Bailey? Name mean anything to you?’
She saw Myriam shake her head in Jason’s direction and do a mime of holding a glass.
‘I remember now. I know who you are. Jason Scott!’ Amanda thrust her face right into his. ‘You’re a criminal. You’ve been putting stolen money into my son’s bank and into mine. You’re an embezzling little scumbag.’
Jason appeared to freeze where he stood.
‘Got you there, didn’t I, you little crook?’ Amanda tumbled back into her seat.
‘Ignore her,’ said Myriam to Jason. ‘We must get her back to her cabin.’
*
Suzy saw Jason get dragged over to deal with some woman who was clearly extremely inebriated. It was the same woman she had chatted with earlier on in the cruise. Amanda. Suzy didn’t remember her as the type to get utterly plastered, but there she was staggering about looking as though any minute she’d arrive at that state of drunkenness where violence crept in.
Suzy was sitting at a table towards the front of the dance floor, with her back to the band. She scanned the room. From her seat, she could see the main entrance doors and the steps leading down from them. She could see everyone who came in and went out. Trouble was, she was by no means certain she would recognise Herr Appenzell again. After all she had only set eyes on him twice: once when she saw his back view at the far end of the rehearsal room, and this afternoon for two seconds as he let himself into Cabin 8127. Thus, every time a tallish, slim, silver fox entered, Suzy was on the alert. Only, on this cruise there did seem to be rather a lot of men who fitted that description.
Whenever a gaggle of guests poured through the double doors, Suzy stood up to get a better look. Her plan was that, whenever a possible subject came into view, she was to walk on to the dance floor and say to Jason and his partner of the moment, ‘Nice footwork,’ and move on in the direction of the suspect.
Jason had been busy on the floor since the band first struck up, whisking various ladies round to the rhumba, the foxtrot and the cha-cha-cha. Now he was helping to try and get the drunk woman to her feet. It looked like a very difficult situation.
Suzy swung her eyes back to the door and there was Appenzell. Even though she had only had those two short glimpses of him she felt certain it was him. He stood alone in the doorway, surveying the room. His clothing was impeccable: a black tuxedo with satin collar, black bow tie, white piqué dress shirt with pearl studs. His silver-grey hair was sleeked back.
He stayed there for a few seconds.
Suzy felt frightened that he would see her. She held up a drinks menu to cover her face, just in case she was the person he was looking for.
Still subtly glancing around, Appenzell took a few steps down the stairs. Suzy used the moment to lurch in Jason’s direction.
Their agreed code was not going to work now, as Jason was sitting down, talking to the drunken woman.
Nonetheless Suzy swept past him and said it anyway: ‘Nice footwork! Eleven o’clock. Right-hand door, down the steps.’
The band struck up a lively tango.
Amanda now grappled herself to her feet and started waving her arms above her head. ‘Hello!’ she called. ‘Hello Karl! Karl!’
She was calling someone over to the table where Jason was sitting, and when Suzy turned to follow her gaze she could see that the man she was beckoning was Appenzell himself.
Suzy spun round and grabbed Jason, hauled him to his feet, and then steered him on to the dance floor. She whirled him across the room till they were both behind Appenzell.
‘Look,’ she said. ‘That is him, isn’t it?’
Jason peered over her shoulder then twisted her around in a sharp movement typical of a tango.
From their vantage point, at the far side of the floor, they could now watch Appenzell, without him seeing them.
‘He’s called Karl. How does that tally with the name Stanley Arbuthnot, do you think? Is Karl his real name?’ asked Suzy.
Jason screwed up his mouth. ‘I can’t remember what his name was. Apart from Herr Appenzell.’
‘Someone needs to warn that woman, Amanda. He must be after something from her.’
‘That would have to be you, Suzy. I can’t go back now. But she’s as drunk as a skunk. She won’t hear you.’
‘I cannot stand by, though, Jason.’
A couple moved into the space between them and Appenzell, blocking their view of him. Jason performed a little swoop and positioned them in a better corner of the floor.
‘It was very strange, Suzy. When she was trying to get me to dance with her just now, that drunk woman kept asking if I was a friend of her son, Mark, and she accused me of tampering with his and her own bank accounts.’
Suzy’s hand tightened on Jason’s shoulder. ‘Tell me the exact words.’
‘As I remember, she called me an embezzling little scumbag, and said I’d put money into her son’s account and hers.’
‘Into her account? Don’t you mean took it out of her account?’
‘No. She definitely said put it IN.’ Jason engineered another perfect tango move to get a better view.
Suzy tried to put everything together – the Zurich theatre company being stranded at the airport, the actors having their bank accounts cleared out, the horrible paedophile party which Jason had witnessed, Stan being dead, Jason having apparently flown out of Zurich to London at the same time that he was actually with her at the airport, and Appenzell being onboard this ship with them, using Stan’s name. And now Amanda w
as thinking that Jason was giving her money.
Nothing made sense.
‘Appenzell is the only common denominator among all this stuff. He must somehow be involved in the embezzlement.’
‘Perhaps he’s using that woman and her son to move the attention from himself,’ said Jason. ‘Setting a false trail? There goes George to the rescue.’
Suzy looked across the room, and saw that Appenzell remained sitting, chatting with Amanda, Myriam and Tyger. George was standing nearby.
‘What has that bastard got to do with the drunken woman, Suzy? Do you know? Do you think they’re in on it together?’
‘Oh no. I’m pretty sure she met him onboard. When I first encountered her, coming out of Genoa, she was definitely on her own.’
‘Son’s name is Mark Bailey. What is Appenzell to them? Unless he’s using her as a way of getting close to that boy, Tyger.’
They both looked over again at the table where Amanda was now slumped, with George casting around for help, while Appenzell talked eagerly with Myriam and Tyger.
Next thing they knew, George and a waiter were helping Amanda to her feet, leaving Appenzell alone with Myriam and Tyger.
‘That’s it. He wants that boy Tyger. Look!’
‘I’m going after Amanda. I have to warn her about Appenzell, tell her to keep her distance,’ said Suzy. ‘Should I tell her he’s a paedophile too?’
‘She’s completely zonked, Suzy. I told you, she won’t hear you.’
‘I still want to have a try,’ said Suzy.
‘I’ll keep my eye on him while you go, Suze.’ Jason bowed as the tango came to an end. ‘I’m going to have to move on now,’ he said. ‘They won’t like it if I stay dancing with the same person, especially as you’re in entertainment.’
Amanda was now being shuffled up the steps towards the port-side double doors. Suzy walked briskly across the floor and ran up the steps after her.
‘Watch out,’ she hissed into Amanda’s ear. ‘That man, Karl, is involved in some very dangerous things.’
‘And who are you?’ said Amanda, raising her head. ‘Mind your own business. I have a date with a gentleman friend,’ she said to George. ‘Why are you abducting me from the ballroom?’
‘Just getting you a bit of air,’ he replied, as they steered her out and turned the corner into the lift lobby. ‘We’re OK here, thanks,’ he said to Suzy, holding Amanda with one arm, using the other to press the lift call button.
Suzy turned and ran back into the ballroom.
She looked down at the table where Amanda had been sitting.
Myriam and Tyger were still there, but Appenzell was gone.
But, then, when she scanned the dance floor she couldn’t see Jason either.
17
Suzy had walked back to her cabin along the open deck. The whole ship was shrouded in fog. Intermittently the ship’s whistle gave a long sonorous blow.
It was impossible to see more than five foot ahead of yourself.
Suzy found it very eerie. It was also strangely warm for a December night in the Atlantic Ocean.
Back in her cabin she quickly got out all her paperwork, together with the notes for tomorrow’s lecture, and sat down at the laptop to perfect it. She needed to get this out of the way. Later she would go down to the office and print it out, in large print to make it easier to read under the stage lighting.
The foghorn was still blowing regular blasts into the night.
At midnight there was a rap on her door.
‘Who is it?’ she asked.
‘It’s me,’ said Jason.
Suzy opened up.
‘Any developments?’
Jason flopped down on to the bed.
‘As it happens – yes. George and the waiter were coming out of the lifts carrying Amanda Herbert back to her cabin when Appenzell suddenly emerged running up the stairs. I’d tried to follow him out of the ballroom, but got trapped by two very keen elderly ladies. George told me that Appenzell had taken care of her from the lift on.’
‘They let him?’
‘Why wouldn’t they? He’d been sitting with her, and he was seemingly most assiduous, greasy almost.’
‘I’m sure he was.’ Suzy suddenly remembered to click save, so as not to lose her work. ‘So what does Appenzell want with her?’
Jason shrugged. ‘What does he want with any of us?’
‘Do you think he’s seen you yet?’
‘I’m pretty sure he hasn’t.’ Jason leaned forward and peered at her laptop screen. ‘What are you up to?’
‘Tomorrow’s talk. Still want to be part of it?’
‘Rather. What do you need of me?’
‘There are a number of blokes who sounded off about the theatre, mainly mad old Puritans. I think it would be fun if you could read those bits, plus other old geezers: the likes of Doctor Johnson. We’ll see now when we read through on the computer, then I’ll mark up the bits you’d like to do in red or bold, or whatever you’d like, and I’ll print it out and leave it by your cabin when I’ve finished.’
‘Sounds great.’
Jason moved to the edge of the bed, next to Suzy.
‘Only one more day and we’ll be in New York City.’ He hunched himself up. ‘I wonder if we’ll make it.’
‘What can he do, Jason?’
‘He knows I’m on to him. Once he realises I’m here onboard, he won’t be happy. I imagine, if he’s travelling under an alibi, he’ll want to get off quietly at New York without me pointing the finger and calling him a paedophile, or indicating that he can’t be Stanley K. Arbuthnot, cos the man who genuinely owns that name was found dead several days ago in an apartment in Zurich.’
‘But, Jason, why is Appenzell on the ship at all? What is he after? What about all this stuff with all our money? And Stan? Why assume his identity?’ Suzy lowered the laptop lid. ‘I know we’ve got to work, but all the time I’m trying to concentrate it’s niggling away at the back of my brain. What do you think, Jason? Let’s plot it out, episode by episode, and see whether we can get a pattern.’
‘Let’s do it.’ Jason picked up a notepad.
‘Start: Herr Appenzell is snared by Reg to finance a theatre company’s production of The Importance,’ said Suzy. ‘We all roll up in Zurich, where he owns an apartment …’
‘I don’t think he owned it,’ said Jason. ‘It was like some rental. And you said he used the name Hamlyn.’
‘One. We are all given apparently random airline tickets, which he, as producer, has purchased.’
Jason sat upright. ‘For which he needed all our details: our passport numbers, dates and place of birth, everything.’
Suzy turned to Jason. ‘You’re right. And, in order to pay us …’
‘Which he never did …’
‘… he needed our bank details: the account numbers, branch addresses, sort code.’
‘No. Surely he only needed our agents’ details.’
‘But I remember filling in my bank details, don’t you? I thought it was for the per diems or something.’
‘I didn’t see the point so I left it blank.’ Jason bit his lower lip. ‘I wanted cash in hand. Isn’t that the point of per diems? That you get some money paid to you in local currency?’
‘So, Appenzell’s sole purpose was to fleece us? It still doesn’t make sense,’ said Suzy. ‘Actors are famously poor, especially if you’re in the position of accepting something like a job in the English Theatre of Zurich. A two-bit company like that isn’t going to be snaring any millionaire Hollywood stars or knights and dames, are they?’
Suzy watched as Jason scribbled an ornate doodle of a euro symbol.
They were getting nowhere.
‘Mind you,’ Suzy added, ‘he did strike gold with India. It seems that she was loaded and he took the lot.’
The foghorn gave another long resonant boom.
‘Nothing yet explains why Appenzell is on this ship. Presumably, the missing link is something to do with
Stan Arbuthnot.’
Suzy moved to sit on the desk chair.
‘What time is it now in the UK?’
Jason looked at his watch and totted up the hours. ‘Must be about four or five in the morning.’
‘I’m going to email Barbara.’
‘He’d have been able to get refunds on all our airline tickets, too, once the show was off.’ Jason sighed. ‘But that’s only getting his own money back. Not making a profit. He can’t have gone to all that trouble just to clean out our meagre bank accounts. And why set up an account under my name?’
‘Perhaps to get back at you for ruining his party?’
‘That’s true. But surely there must be easier ways of making that kind of pin money. And he wouldn’t have needed to cancel the show.’
Suzy was writing the email, but she turned to face Jason.
‘It all went wrong at that party. He must have thought, like so many people do, that the theatre is full of sex maniacs, like himself. Herr Appenzell’s weakness for young boys is his Achilles heel. He could probably carry on ripping people off quite happily. I suppose you can make a tidy sum sitting at a computer and clearing out other people’s bank accounts. But his vile predilection makes him vulnerable. He thought actors would be safe – but, Jason, you ruined that party, and, by summoning the police to his flat, rented or not, you put his little financial scheme in danger so he wanted out.’
‘It still doesn’t seem enough.’
‘I know! There has to be something about Stan. That’s why I wrote to Barbara. I want Stan’s full name, for starters. And anything else she knows about him.’
The computer pinged.
‘She’s replied.’
‘What’s she doing up at this time?’
‘Who cares?’ Suzy opened up the email. ‘Stanley Keith Arbuthnot. His body was found at Quai Olympique 49, Zurich.’
‘That’s it,’ said Jason. ‘That’s definitely the address of the flat.’
‘Stanley Keith Arbuthnot.’ Suzy read on: ‘Today they got the results of the autopsy … Stanley Keith Arbuthnot died of suffocation.’
‘Suffocation! Blimey!’
