Sail Away

by Celia Imrie

  ‘I believe that the police are down in the Medical Centre with Suzy Marshall and Jason Scott, getting evidence from them. I’m afraid I don’t know that much more. I can only tell you what the London police told me.’

  *

  Battered and bruised, Suzy sat up in bed, talking to the New York detective. She had given him all the evidence he needed but now she wanted some answers for herself.

  ‘Why us?’ she asked.

  ‘Yeah, he’s some guy, that Appenzell. But seems it took a couple of limeys to knock him off his high horse.’ The detective leaned back in his seat, took one of the grapes off the nightstand and tossed it into his open mouth. ‘Hoofers! Really! You couldn’t make it up.’

  ‘None of us could understand why he was meddling in our world in the first place,’ said Suzy. ‘It’s well known, in Europe anyhow, that it’s a rare man who makes money out of backing little companies like the English Theatre of Zurich.’

  ‘True,’ said the detective. ‘What we think is that he imagined you’d all be a lot more naïve than you actually are, and that he could use your details, names, passport numbers and all, to set up a whole new set of identities for himself when he went on the run. He really didn’t have to put up much money, considering what he was getting in return.’

  ‘And do you have any idea how events rolled out after that?’

  ‘We’ve been talking to your colleague, Mr Scott, or Monsewer Berry as he is legally known. And between us we got a pretty good picture of it all.’

  ‘We both realised that Appenzell was using his new role as a theatre producer to attract the boys to his nasty little soirée.’

  ‘Oh, yeah. The posters for The King and I had been up in Zurich for months, and even I know that that show is positively crammed with kids. So the plan was that this Appenzell fella was going to have his sex party, and already intended to run off to London and leave you all high and dry, but not until after your little show opened. He’d already prepared all the passports he needed, using the identities of the male members of the company. So he thought he’d attend the first-night performance, swan around very visibly in his velvet tuxedo and dicky bow at the after-party, then hotfoot it straight to the airport and back to his apartment in London, England. None of you would have missed his presence, I presume, for a few days after that.’

  ‘If at all. Maybe by the weekend we’d realise we’d not been paid, then we’d probably have gone looking for him.’

  ‘But the party went wrong, and the fat man died.’

  ‘And with Stanley missing … everything would have had to come to a head that morning, before opening night. And with the police knocking at Appenzell’s door …’ Suzy could understand that the events during that party would have necessitated a quick change of plan on Appenzell’s part. ‘He’d have had to do some pretty quick thinking.’

  ‘That’s right. So he moved his whole plan a day forward. We estimate Herr Karl Appenzell got rid of the party guests from his apartment, with the exception of Mr Stanley Arbuthnot – gee, you go in for some pretty weird names on the other side of the pond – at about midnight. Anyhoo, this Stanley fella was making a bit of a fuss about leaving, then the Zurich police came knocking. He silenced the Stanley fella, but it had all got too hot for him. So he made up his mind to get out. He checked into his flight, having decided previously that he would exit Switzerland using the passport he had already made up in Mr Arbuthnot’s name. A kind of act of spite, I suppose. Appenzell checked in on a computer in that apartment just after 1 a.m., a short while after the police had gone.’

  ‘I know what happened next,’ said Suzy. ‘That’s when he murdered Stanley.’

  ‘I’d hesitate to use the term murder. We know that he was trying to keep the man quiet. He just went a little too far, is all. But after the visit from the police it was all change again. He discovered that he had actually killed Mr Arbuthnot, and knew he had to split from that apartment real quick. And by now he also had some mighty big axe to grind with your friend Jason. We presume he also got squeamish about using the passport of a dead man.’

  ‘So he changed his mind and used a faked-up version of Jason’s passport and his ticket to get away from Zurich that morning.’

  The detective nodded.

  ‘From computer records, we think Appenzell left the apartment pretty early for the airport and sat in the departure lounge working on his laptop. That was where he had the idea to use all of you actors to set a trail of what they call on TV mysteries “red herrings”. He created a subsidiary Swiss account, as you might have an account called “Household” or “Income”, only he called this one “Jason Scott”. Herr Appenzell didn’t like Scott, he blamed him for causing all his troubles, and he couldn’t steal money from him as he didn’t have his bank details, so, instead, he planned to drop Jason Scott right in the middle of everyone’s suspicions by putting some of the theatrical company’s stolen money into it. In Jason Scott he found a perfect scapegoat.’

  ‘Yes. I can see that Jason had wrecked his whole plan and ruined it for him in many ways and that he wanted revenge. But why target us?’

  ‘Why not? It was always his plan to use you all, your identities anyway. Why not move your money around, create a false trail? While he was at it, why not fleece you all? He truly believed that you had all cheated him. In his head it was plain and simple payback.’

  Blake popped his head around the curtain. ‘Suzy. Could I have a brief word?’

  The detective stood and looked at his watch. ‘We’ve been gassing way too long.’ He tapped his notebook. ‘I’ll see you around, Miss Marshall … or not.’

  *

  ‘So you’re telling me that Karl arrived in London all of a sudden, and went to the flat he was already selling to me.’

  Amanda still sat in her wheelchair, sipping hot sweet tea. The Captain had sent down for a tray of tea and biscuits, then proceeded patiently to explain everything he knew about Appenzell’s targeting of her.

  ‘Yes. His original plan was to stay in the London flat for two days. But, after the unforeseen events in Zurich, he now had three days in London. He had already booked his flight to New York. For reasons of his own, he needed to arrange for the sale of the London property to go very quickly, so that he’d have that money to hand before he left town. He phoned his solicitor, only to find that everyone of importance was out attending some big court case. Appenzell was fobbed off with the old “we’ll call you back” line. And that’s when he decided to get onboard this ship.’

  ‘But isn’t it an enormous coincidence?’ asked Amanda. ‘That the very same man from whom I bought my flat should suddenly decide to get on to this ship, which I just happened already to be aboard?’

  The Captain smiled. ‘No coincidence about it, I’m afraid. He knew you were here. I’d say you gave him the idea.’

  ‘Me? But I had never had any contact with the man before meeting on this ship.’

  ‘When a man like Appenzell is in a hurry, he likes to speed things along, so, feeling rebuffed by his own solicitors, he ignored etiquette, and phoned your solicitors’ office. However, when the girl on the switchboard realised that his call was about you, Mrs Herbert, she told him how there was no longer any rush on your part as you were away on a cruise, and then she excitedly told him every gory detail – the name of the ship, and all the ports of call.’

  Amanda thought back to her own conversation with the receptionist and realised how easily that could have happened.

  ‘Till that phone call, Appenzell had been intending to fly out of London the next afternoon, using the same alias he had used when he flew in from Zurich, Jason Scott. He’d even checked himself on to next morning’s New York flight. But after the switchboard girl told him how this ship would be putting into Southampton at dawn and later in the day would sail out, non-stop, to New York, arriving after a week of glorious, uncontactable solitude, it gave him a wonderful new idea.’

  Amanda groaned.

  ‘You
got it! Appenzell believed that he could have some fun with you. He already knew so many of your details – your address, your full name, date of birth, status, occupation. He hoped that once aboard he would be able to get into your life, on to your computer, fiddle a few passwords, take your savings and throw that money into the distracting mix, and then use your bank account to cover his own tracks. So as soon as he realised he was going to be able to come in direct contact with you, he planted incriminating materials around the flat: indecent photographs, some USB sticks with bank-account details of the acting company from whom he had been stealing. Then you let him know that your son was in the flat, giving him a wonderful new stooge. Once Appenzell came aboard, he checked you out and stalked you, till you gave him all the information he needed to instigate a police raid on your flat and get your son arrested.’

  ‘I told that man everything. His name, I described Mark.’ Amanda put her face into her hands. ‘I even had Mark’s bank details on the jotter on my desk when he came into my cabin. It’s all my fault. How stupid I am.’

  ‘Not stupid, Mrs Herbert. You were a sitting duck.’

  It all still seemed strange to Amanda.

  She had so many more questions.

  ‘Tell me, Captain, wasn’t it dicing with danger for a wanted man to spend so long in one place?’ Amanda thought back to her first meeting with Appenzell on the deck, when he had been so suave and cool, and so convincing. He did not seem like a man who was being pursued by the police. ‘Surely, if time was of the essence, he could have got away quicker by taking that plane?’ she said.

  ‘His plan was to hide in plain sight. Appenzell reckoned that if he sashayed around openly on a ship it would be far less “hot” for him. He wasn’t using his own name. Why would anyone suspect Stanley K. Arbuthnot, a man with impeccable manners, a man who always dressed perfectly for the occasion, a man who never made a fuss or drew attention to himself?’

  Amanda brewed this over.

  Again she could see how Appenzell’s plan just might have worked.

  ‘One more thing: there are hundreds of cabins on this ship. How did he come to be in the one next door to mine?’

  ‘He wanted to keep track of you and to make the most of his knowledge of you. He knew so much about you. Had googled you and found your photo …’

  ‘Oh God. That silly column I used to write.’ Amanda could see how easy it would have been for him.

  ‘Once onboard, Appenzell made a point of finding out where you were, and asked to be moved to that corner of the ship. I gather he followed you around quite often without your noticing.’

  ‘He did appear to have an uncanny ability to bump into me.’ Amanda thought back to the meeting on the deck and shivered to think that it had been a set-up.

  ‘It’s quite usual for passengers to ask to be moved to a different part of the ship. In fact, Herr Appenzell took a downgrade. The previous holders of his new cabin were only too excited to be bumped up a class. Appenzell had, rather cleverly, bought his ticket and come aboard using one of his stolen aliases, Stanley Arbuthnot. And he was quite certain that this man would not by any chance put in an appearance, as he was – unknown to anyone but Appenzell – lying dead in Appenzell’s Zurich apartment.’

  Amanda recoiled. ‘Oh, how horrible.’

  ‘But it was the problem of disembarking which came to be the undoing of the man. His original plan was to get off the ship using the same alias he used to get onboard. He had only brought three of his passports with him, one genuine, two fakes.’

  ‘Only three!’

  ‘He had around fifty. But thinking he was due to be flying out of London, he had already couriered the others from Zurich to an address in New York. No one having a random Customs check wants the authorities to discover a stash of forty or so passports in their suitcase. Three is just about manageable. One in the jacket pocket, another in the computer case, the third in an inside pocket of your overcoat. But yesterday, Mr Appenzell found out that Stanley Arbuthnot’s body had been discovered, four days earlier than he had anticipated.’

  ‘How on earth did he find that out while on this ship?’

  ‘Apparently he followed all the local newspapers in Zurich from his laptop,’ said the Captain. ‘I suppose if you’ve killed somebody, it would rather weigh on your mind, and in his position you’d certainly want to know when that body was found. But of course once it was discovered, Mr Appenzell knew he couldn’t use Arbuthnot’s identity to disembark. As it was a flat he had been associated with, he was also feeling apprehensive about using the passport which was in his real name. So he got out that third false passport, and, after dinner last night, he applied for his ESTA, using the one he had made in the name Jason Scott.’

  ‘I see.’ When the penny dropped, Amanda could almost hear its clatter. Everything suddenly seemed so clear.

  ‘But then I told him that Jason Scott was onboard this ship.’ She took a deep breath, realising that she had been to blame for Appenzell going after Jason. ‘And he knew that Jason would also be disembarking at New York.’

  The Captain nodded. ‘Exactly.’

  Amanda felt desolate. To think that she had caused this whole debacle by getting drunk and blabbing.

  The Captain continued calmly: ‘Appenzell had no choice left him. He had to use the fake passport he held in Jason Scott’s name. But when he discovered Jason was actually here onboard, Appenzell realised he was cornered. He could not disembark. So he went into overdrive. He knew that if he didn’t prevent Jason Scott getting off the ship, he was done for. The game was up.’

  ‘But why did he need to silence me?’

  ‘He certainly didn’t want you coming to me, making a fuss about a man called Jason Scott fiddling with your bank account. He didn’t want anybody drawing attention to Jason. Plus, he is a very vengeful person. It was you who had, in his mind, lured him on to this ship in the first place. And so, he needed to get rid of you, or at least to hold you, along with Jason, until he had safely disembarked and boarded that flight to Brunei.’

  ‘And he so very nearly got away with it all,’ said Amanda. ‘We have both been very lucky.’

  The Captain got up.

  ‘And now that you know the full story, I’m sure you’d like to get some sleep.’

  The Captain popped on his cap. He strode to the door, where he turned. ‘Just one more thing, Mrs Herbert. If you wish to disembark today and fly home, we will understand and will willingly refund your return trip and pick up the bill for your flight. No decisions necessary straight away, but …’

  Amanda nodded. She had so much to think about.

  ‘Oh, and, by the way, we’ll be coming into New York Harbour very soon. There is a lounge reserved for you and your friends, if you’d care to sit in the comfort and warmth to see the sights.’

  23

  Blake arrived at Suzy’s bedside with the offer of a first-class cabin for what remained of the night. He had also said that, in light of the circumstances, he would happily let her leave the ship when they reached New York, along with Jason, and the two could fly back to London together.

  She chose to take up his offer and, once she was given painkillers and her wounds had been re-dressed, she went up to her new cabin on the upper decks to sleep away the last few hours of the voyage.

  After a short nap in her luxurious new bedroom, Suzy woke.

  She felt oddly depressed.

  The adventure had come to an end. She wondered to herself what she had done wrong. It seemed as though she had failed, failed in every possible way.

  It was just after 4.30 a.m. and the ship was already steaming past Sandy Hook, heading towards the Hudson River. The Captain had sent a message, letting her know about a private lounge which was reserved for her and her friends.

  Suzy was keen to watch the ship go under the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge and pass in front of the Statue of Liberty. How could she eschew this once-in-a-lifetime experience?

  The effects of last night’s ho
rrors were still there, but she didn’t want to be on her own. She wanted to be up with the others, celebrating their triumph over evil. She needed to be with Jason and Amanda, and also wanted to see Tyger, Arturo, Liliane and Myriam once more, before they all disembarked.

  It might be that they all felt differently and wished to remain in bed until the ship docked, but, come what may, Suzy was going to sit in that private lounge.

  She got up and hastily dressed.

  Her throat still ached.

  She pulled down the bandage and looked in the mirror. There was a horrible red ring left around her throat from Appenzell’s makeshift garrotte. Examining the unsightly mark, she now wished that she had attended Melanie’s class on fifty ways to tie a silk scarf.

  Suzy grabbed her own scarf and threw it carelessly round her neck.

  When she emerged from her new cabin, as it was so early in the morning, Suzy expected the ship to be quiet. Instead, the corridors and cafeteria were alive with excited chattering people, grasping cups of coffee, heading for the outer decks to watch the ship’s arrival into New York.

  She pushed through them and made her way to the top deck.

  Up in the private lounge, Suzy found Jason, who greeted her with a bear hug.

  ‘I’m so sorry I let you down, Suze,’ he whispered. ‘But I was out for the count.’

  Poor boy! Seeing him made Suzy forget her own worries.

  He looked quite awful. His eyes were puffy and his speech was slower than normal.

  He pulled out an armchair for her, and she sat down.

  ‘Oh, Suze,’ he said. ‘Considering everything, you do brush up well!’ His flashing smile remained undimmed.

  Jason flopped down into the chair beside hers and pointed a finger at a huge ice bucket filled with a magnum of champagne, surrounded by a circle of champagne flutes. ‘Bit too early to pop that cork, do you think?’

  ‘Oh God!’ Suzy reached out and grabbed Jason’s hand. ‘We got him, Jason. We got the bastard.’