Second Sitting
Page 24
‘Really? But I’ve seen you eating bacon and eggs with the doctor,’ he persisted. ‘Your favourite meal, miss.’
I was getting fed up with this. ‘He was eating bacon and eggs but I wasn’t. Does it matter? Now if you’ll excuse me.’
He stood there, crunching the paper in his hands. ‘I’m not very happy about the way you are speaking to me,’ he began. This was not nice. I did not like this turn of events.
My mouth nearly fell open, but didn’t. ‘Hold on, there. I’m not very happy about your attitude. I’ve only been pointing out that I don’t need you here and asking you to leave.’ I was still being polite.
‘But I think you do need me, if you want to stay alive. If you’d like to enjoy another meal at table two, second sitting.’
I felt a scream rising up inside me but it didn’t get out. He went over to the entrance doors and calmly shut them, turning the key and shooting the top bolt. ‘Now you are going to tell me which is the faked painting, the one with the genuine article underneath. Or am I going to have to force it out of you?’
He turned the lights out. Richard Norton would think that the gallery was empty. That I had gone back to my cabin. That it was all over.
‘I don’t mind how long I wait,’ he added.
I have been in a few tight situations. Passengers, entertainers, even crew, can be unpredictable, but this was without doubt the worst ever. I saw now beyond the yellow hair and the steward’s uniform. This was Darin Jack, the absent DJ. He was after the priceless painting, the painting which I felt sure was safely in Joan Foster’s stateroom.
‘I haven’t the slightest idea what you are talking about,’ I said, smoothing out entry forms. Why do people have to fold everything into a miniscule wodge? ‘This was merely a diversion, something to keep the passengers amused during yet another long day at sea.’
‘You’re no actress, Miss Jones. I’m not taken in for a moment. So tell me, which is the painting? I suggest you tell me. I have my own artistic skill. A very nice line in carving.’ He took out a slim-bladed kitchen knife.
I was on my own. Everyone would think the gallery was closed and empty. I was stuck with a dangerous man. How dangerous, I was not sure. But dangerous enough to be waving a knife. I was not feeling too happy.
‘I’m sorry, this competition is only for passengers,’ I said, playing the naïve, useless, innocent fool. ‘And even I don’t have the answer. The only person who knows the true identity of the painting is the captain.’
‘You really expect me to believe that?’ DJ sat on the edge of the desk, totally at ease, enjoying himself. ‘I doubt if the captain, in his busy day, keeping forty-five hundred tons of ship afloat and heading in the right direction, has time to bother himself about a piddling competition.’
I laughed. ‘You’re exactly right there. This piddling competition itself is hardly worth anything. The faked painting has no real value. It’s just a con. A fun thing. We’ve made it all up actually.’
I saw a momentary flash of uncertainty cross his face. I had rattled him. He didn’t know what to believe. Time now to be very careful. I didn’t want to be carved up. It was a waiting game.
‘Look,’ I gabbled on. ‘I’ll give you an entry form and you can tell me which one you think it is. It’s quite fun, guessing. Everyone enjoyed it.’
How was I going to get out of this? Where was Richard Norton? What was he doing? He ought to be checking up on me.
This man was not amused. Not a good sign. His sly eyes went blank and black. The dark face had no expression. He didn’t have a soul. This frightened me more than any words.
‘Are you going to have a go?’
He said nothing but stroked the knife blade. I only caught a brief glimpse of it moving, a sort of tapered kitchen knife. He slashed at the nearest painting. It was a fast, vicious, vindictive movement. The knife tore through the canvas to the backing. In the half light, I couldn’t see which picture it was.
I knew it would not be long before he started on me. My mobile was in my bag under the desk but he would stop me long before I got to it. This was not one of my better days.
My brain was barely working. It was not easy trying to plan an escape route when there was no way out. Samuel would soon be starting his evening surgery. Richard was otherwise engaged. I doubted if Madame de Leger would come to my rescue. It was up to me and my wits, however few of them were left.
‘I hope you realize that you have just set off an alarm,’ I said. ‘Every picture is wired up to a central surveillance system. It won’t be long before the Mounties arrive. And you don’t really want them to catch you, do you? There are a lot of questions to be answered.’
I’d got him rattled again. I picked up a brass table lamp. There was still a lot of fight left in me. He began roaming like a caged beast. There was a fleck of foam on his mouth.
‘What surveillance system?’ he snarled. ‘I can’t see any.’
‘You’re not supposed to see it. Haven’t you heard of ultraviolet sensitive microns?’ I asked, hastily inventing. ‘It’s the very latest. It imparts the slightest movement to a main centre. Any minute now they’ll be breaking down the door.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
‘Can’t you hear that vibration? It means the system has been alerted.’
There was no vibration apart from the normal thrumming of the engines. That low throbbing that was always there if you listened hard enough. Most of the time, it was a simple background noise, almost imperceptible, that one eventually took as normal. As normal as the sound of the sea and the wind.
DJ imagined that he could hear it. He was backing off.
‘Don’t think I won’t be back,’ he said. ‘I haven’t finished with you. I’ve some scores to settle up.’
I said nothing. I didn’t want to break the spell. The harder he listened the more he would think he heard the vibration. It was the only weapon I had. His own fear.
He unlocked the door and slid back the bolt. He still wasn’t sure. ‘Just don’t do anything that might make me angry,’ he said. ‘When I’m angry I can be really nasty.’
He was out of the door in a flash of yellow hair. I wanted to run outside but my legs wouldn’t work. They were like lead. They had forgotten how to obey commands. After a few wobbles, I was across the gallery and hanging on to the door frame. The evening air and light was glorious. I wanted to float on deck and drink in the freedom. Drink in the sea, the endless sky, fresh air.
‘Hi there, how did the competition go?’ It was Ray Roeder. He was grinning, well understanding the necessity to fill in show time when we were at sea for a long stretch. ‘Hey, are you all right? You look as if you have seen a ghost.’
I clung on to his arm. ‘Please take me up on deck, Ray. I must have some air, see the waves, get out of this place.’
‘Of course,’ he said gallantly. ‘Anything you say, Casey. Let’s go walk.’
‘I need to walk,’ I whispered. ‘Don’t let anyone take me away from you. Hang on to me.’
He must have thought I was raving mad. A lunatic entertainments director. You get all sorts.
‘Never, of course not,’ he said, not understanding a word of what was going on. ‘I am glued to your side, ma’am. Let’s go look at the horizon.’
‘Thank you, thank you,’ I said. I was lost for any better words.
Twenty-Eight - At Sea
Ray was kindness itself. He bought a bottle of Macon Fuissé, a good white Burgundy, at the bar and steered me towards a secluded table on deck. Two glasses hung from his fingers. Perhaps he filled in resting time as a barman.
The sea had decided to calm me and was at its most blue and tranquil. It was like a silken quilt, rising and falling with a mermaid’s breathing.
‘Casey, you are safe now,’ he said. ‘Whatever it was that scared the daylights out of you, it’s gone now.’
‘He’s gone — for the moment.’
‘Oh dear, not a difficult passenger?’
He laughed, pouring out the wine. ‘The table with the death jinx? No fear, you won’t catch me within a hundred yards. I prefer the Grill upstairs anyway.’
‘Have you ever seen a steward up there with very peroxide hair?’
‘No, I can’t say I have.’ His face lost the laughter lines. He looked serious and older. ‘Are you trying to tell me that something is going on, something that is not all luxury cruising to exotic places with high class entertainment thrown in at the end of the day?’
‘I can’t tell you,’ I said, the alcohol numbing my nerves. It was a totally classy white wine. ‘Passengers mustn’t get a whiff of this.’
‘I’m not a passenger.’
‘Nor top entertainers.’
‘Promise not to tell.’
It was hard not to confide in Ray when he was being so attentive. But I didn’t know who I could trust not to spread the rumours. We didn’t want a full-scale panic on board. I imagined passengers demanding that the captain make an unscheduled port of call and authorize planes to fly them all home. My contract would not be renewed. I needed my new career.
‘Don’t worry, Casey,’ Ray went on. ‘I know enough about cruising to understand when information is sensitive. But you were really scared back there and that shouldn’t happen to a nice young woman like you. Surely you should report it to the security officer?’
‘Yes, Richard Norton. Yes, I should and I will. But not quite yet. I’m enjoying these unexpected moments of fresh air, the lovely sea, and your company, of course.’
‘Of course, the right company is essential.’ But he wasn’t taken in. He knew he was a stand-in. Any normal human being passing by the gallery would have done. He was twenty years older than me, but age didn’t mean that much these days and he carried it well. He was younger than his years. And I was aging by the minute. Put my name on a Zimmer frame. And can I have silver tassels on the handles, please?
‘Did you ever meet Reg Hawkins, the magician, on the cruise carousel?’ I asked, changing the subject. We knew very little about the man as a person.
‘Sure, I’ve met him many times, known him for years. A brilliant magician, performs even in a gale force eight. How he did those tricks, so close to his audience, was a miracle. He deserved a better career. For some reason, he never quite made it. He should have been on television, a programme of his own.’
‘You probably know that he was found dead on-board, inside his magic box?’
‘Yes, of course. I was very upset when I heard that. A really nasty business. Yet strangely enough, I’m not surprised. He always seemed to have an air of doom around him. I don’t know what it was but the last few times I’ve met him, he seemed very preoccupied and not himself.’
‘Like he was being blackmailed or something,’ I threw in.
‘Maybe. But he was certainly not his normal cheerful self.’
‘And Rosanna is also on-board.’
‘Rosanna?’ Ray was completely amazed. ‘His daughter? But that’s wonderful. I’m her godfather, not that I’m a good one. I simply send a decent cheque on her birthday and Christmas.’
‘Your goddaughter? That’s such good news. Would you like to see her?’
‘I certainly would.’
Halleluiah. Brilliant thought, Casey. I’d arrange for them to meet. It would stop Rosanna from sliding into any sort of depression. She needed help too.
‘We walk the Promenade Deck each day. She’s under some sort of custody for being a stowaway. Perhaps you’d like to join us? I’m sure I can arrange it.’
He chuckled. ‘I’d like that. I’ve known Rosanna since she was so high. I’ll bring along some lollipops.’
‘I think she’s grown out of lollipops. I’ll go fetch her.’
‘When we’ve finished the wine,’ said Ray.
But she hadn’t grown out of lollipops. Ray brought iced lollipops and we attempted to walk the Promenade Deck three abreast, sucking the iced sticks, but it didn’t work. I slipped behind and let them talk. Rosanna was over the moon, seeing Ray again. She hadn’t known he was on-board. She had no way of knowing. No one gave her a ship’s newspaper.
‘Ray … Ray, Uncle Ray, this is absolutely marvellous, seeing you here,’ she said, hugging his arm. ‘My dad’s died, you know. It’s so awful.’
‘I know and I’m so sorry. Not so much of the uncle, please. I’ve got to think of my image.’
At some point along the walk Richard Norton joined us. He was full of apologies for not being around the gallery during the competition. He had some computer blip. I was not impressed.
‘I was bait,’ I said. ‘You set me up and the bastard took a bite, with a kitchen knife. Why weren’t you there? I needed you. I was nearly victim number four.’
‘I’m really sorry, truly I am, Casey, but I couldn’t get away. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you. So he did turn up? I thought he would. Exactly what happened?’
Richard wasn’t listening properly. He hadn’t turned a whisker on the word knife. I could have said axe, tyre iron, battering ram.
‘Yes, he turned up. Yes, he wanted to know which was the fake painting. Yes, he pulled a knife on me. Anything else you want to know before I sock you squarely on the jaw?’
It was the Burgundy talking courage. I couldn’t sock anyone but Richard crimsoned and looked alarmed. He had let me down and I was not pleased. Maybe it showed on my face. I hoped it did.
‘Perhaps you’d like to tell me what he looks like now. I expect he’s changed his appearance.’
‘He has bright spiky peroxide hair, is clean shaven and wearing a stolen steward’s uniform but with his own trainers. But I should imagine that’s all changed by now. He’ll have shaved off the hair and tossed the uniform overboard.’
‘Can you put a name to him?’
‘I think it’s Darin Jack, the DJ with a false passport who we thought had absconded in Barbados, but hadn’t. I only met him briefly when he signed on at Southampton. He’d merely pretended to jump ship at Barbados. But whether he’s the man we are looking for, I don’t know. He certainly threatened me in no uncertain manner and it was really frightening.’
Richard put his hand under my elbow as if to assure me of his protection. ‘I’m really sorry, Casey. It won’t happen again.’
‘Too true it won’t happen again. I’ll make sure it doesn’t and I won’t go along with any more of your hare-brained schemes. You can be your own decoy. I’ll get a duck suit for you from wardrobe.’ I felt better for saying it, but my heart was still fluttering at the thought of those moments locked in the gallery with Darin Jack. I’d been so scared that I hadn’t thought to find out who he was. Now that was a big minus. Always get the name of the person about to knife you.
‘I’m glad you haven’t lost your sense of humour,’ he said hopefully.
‘I was about to lose a lot of other things,’ I said. I was getting mad again now. The fear replaced by anger. ‘He pulled a knife on me.’
Richard’s face went white. It obviously hadn’t registered the first time. He scanned my face and arms for nicks, counted my ears.
‘Did you get h-hurt?’ He was not only concerned for me but for himself. He would be in big trouble if he had knowingly put me in danger.
‘Only my nerves, fragile and shredded. I really thought he was going for me. It was one of those very long and thin kitchen knives.’
Richard Norton was on his phone immediately. ‘We’ll pick him up right away for threatening behaviour. Yellow blonde hair, spiky, steward’s uniform. What kind of trainers?’
‘White trainers with red flashes and some sort of logo. I didn’t spend much time looking at his feet. This is a waste of time. He won’t be looking like that now.’
‘People have been caught on worse descriptions. Lots of criminals forget to change their shoes. Feet are a comfort
zone.’
I thought of my strappy evening shoes with skyscraper heels. ‘Not for me, they’re not.’
‘I’m really sorry, Casey,’ he went on. ‘Thank you for coping. How did the competition go?’
Now he wanted to talk about the competition. Thank you, buster. ‘Very popular but the entries need to be judged. I don’t know the answer and I don’t have the prize,’ I said. ‘Was it the white and blue fishing scene, all lumps of paint, put on with a knife?’
I flinched at the last word but he didn’t seem to notice.
‘No, that’s authentic. I’ve met that artist. He lives in Benidorm and churns them out by the dozen. The fake one is The Bengal Tiger.’
‘Oh dear, Mrs Fairweather thought it was that one and then changed her mind. She will be upset. By the way, what’s the prize?’
Richard looked ill at ease. I’d never seen a man so discomforted. ‘It’s nothing special. A few vouchers.’
‘Let me guess. Vouchers that have to be spent at the art gallery? Am I right?’
‘Something like that. Let me know the name of the winner and we’ll send a letter to their cabin.’
‘Or winners. There might be several. No public award winning ceremony then, not like the writers’ awards? No shaking hands with the captain and photos on the website?’
‘I think we’d better play it down, just in case.’
‘Just in case of what?’
But Richard wasn’t saying. He sure was acting strangely.
‘Very wise, Richard. Sorry, but I have to go. Another change coming up. One of my many during the day. I’d like to get back to the safety of my normal routine among non knife-throwing cabaret artists and staff.’
‘Your photo got slashed.’
I’d forgotten that. So much had happened since then. Susan Brook was obviously the culprit. That’s why I had left it in place, to show her that I didn’t care what she thought.
My phone was ringing when I got back to my cabin. Rosanna had cheered up after her walk and talk with Ray Roeder. It must have helped immensely to know that she had an ally and old friend on board.