Diamond in the Blue: D.I. Simpers Investigates (11 page)

The phone shot to the rear of the stage. The metal stand on which it had been resting tipped forward and fell so that its flat top now faced the audience. The magician looked anxious. The more anxious he looked, the more the audience laughed. He wasn't joking any more.

'Something's not right, Mr Simpers,' said Amelia. 'I've seen this trick before. That table is not supposed to fall over. In a few seconds it will explode into half a dozen pieces. I just hope the steel chains holding each of the pieces together is intact.'

Simpers looked at Amelia for sign of a smile, judging that this was another attempt at winding him up with her peculiar sense of humour. She wasn't smiling.

Seconds later there was another bang, but louder than before. Again the audience first gasped, then laughed. They applauded the spectacle unfolding before them. Simpers could see the table breaking apart as the explosion subsided. He noticed the feet attached to the circular column by a chain, just as Amelia had said. As the smoke cleared he could also see a chain attached at one end to the column. To his horror, he noticed the other end free of the tabletop, which had disappeared. Simpers looked at the magician to see his face frozen in fear as he stared back in Simpers' direction. It wasn't until he turned to his right that he noticed Ken Smeeton sat ramrod straight in his seat. His eyes closed, he had a trickle of blood oozing from the centre of his forehead. The situation seems surreal. The audience were in a state of collapse as they laughed and applauded the performance. Meanwhile, Simpers took in the horror unfolding beside him.

The magician appeared to gain his composure and thanked the audience for their applause. As he made his bows the deep bass note of his theme tune filled the auditorium and the house lights came up. The rate at which the room emptied amazed Simpers. How, he thought, could those passengers who appeared to have difficulty walking now move with such speed? It seemed their ailments had dissipated. Perhaps the magician's skill had prevailed. Or, he concluded, they just wanted to be the first to the bar.

To cap things, in their eagerness to get out of the place, they hadn't even noticed poor Smeeton as he sat motionless in his seat.

'Oh my God, this has never happened before. I've been doing this trick for years and nothing has ever gone wrong,' said the magician as he stood in front of the still comatose Smeeton.

As a first-aider dealt with the injured man and tried his best to calm the magician down, Simpers absented himself and made his way onto the stage. He took in the scene as a whole, before kneeling down beside the stricken table stand. He paid particular attention to the cleanness with which the loose end of the restraining chain had broken. From his examination he couldn't tell if metal fatigue was to blame, or that sabotage was in play. Of more importance, he couldn't be sure whether it was an accident, or whether he had been the intended victim. The logical side of his brain said that there was no way the table could have fallen in a predictable way to hit him. His emotional intelligence placed doubt on that logic.

***

'Thank you for coming to see me, Detective Inspector,' said the Commodore as he closed the door of his private quarters. 'I've just heard what happened in the theatre this evening. Don't worry, there will be a full enquiry and Mr Smeeton will be well taken care of.'

Simpers accepted the Commodore's invite to sit. As before, the steward appeared as if from nowhere, except this time he had no need to ask Simpers his choice of beverage. Instead, the steward placed a bone china cup and saucer on the table in front of him. He filled it with tea from a matching teapot and added the merest hint of milk and two sugars. Simpers acknowledged the expertise of the steward with a smile and nod of his head. As before, the steward disappeared just as he had appeared.

'My reason for asking you to come and see me was, I'm afraid, nothing to do with Mr Smeeton's discomfort. Instead, I'm sorry to say that the thing we brought you on board to discourage has taken place. Six priceless gems have gone. It is as if someone has placed an order for them.'

'You’re right in your thinking, Commodore,' replied Simpers. 'The one thing we have in our favour for now is that the gems are still on board. I know it sounds as if I'm stating the obvious, but for now we enjoy the advantage.'

'I understand the logic of your argument, Detective Inspector. But you'll forgive my unease since this has all the hallmarks of the previous theft I spoke about when we first met,' said the Commodore

The two men spent several minutes discussing how the thieves may have gained access to the exhibition room. In particular, how the secure glass cases which held the gems became compromised.

'I have to ask, Commodore. In your view, could there be any of your staff mixed up in this?'

'I've known all my people for a long time and they've been a trusted part of my team. The Deputy Captain, in particular, has my full confidence. I just cannot accept any of them might be behind the theft.'

'Commodore, it's time I got to work. Please make sure that that room's put into complete lockdown. Nobody enters without my express permission, understood?' replied Simpers.

As the detective drank the last of his tea and got to his feet, the Commodore asked Simpers to wait. He reached into a pocket of his immaculate jacket and retrieved a brilliant white handkerchief. Within it lay an egg-like object.

'I said that the thieves took the most important and expensive gems in the exhibition. That wasn't quite true. As fortune would have it, we had taken the best and most priceless diamond out of its case for cleaning – a pure, but happy coincidence. We replaced it with a paste copy to maintain the integrity of the collection. I need you to do something for me, Detective Inspector. I need you to take charge of this; it's far safer with you than anywhere else. After all who would think of bothering you? You are just one of two thousand passengers, are you not?'

Simpers felt uncomfortable. All the evidence pointed to the near certainty that whoever took the gems also knew why Simpers was on board.

***

Feeling the need for fresh air, the detective made his way to the promenade deck. He breathed the salted air deep into his lungs. Simpers arched his neck to catch the last of the warm sun as it disappeared below the horizon. The darkening sky had a ribbon of orange across it, which merged into the night sky. The effect on him, and the fact that for once, his neck didn't hurt, was intoxicating. As he strolled down the walkway, it was as if he was the only person left on board. He sank deeper into thought, the only sound being the sea as it lapped along the length of the ship's immense superstructure. As was his habit, albeit unconscious, he rolled the smooth pebble he always kept in his right trouser pocket. It gave him reassurance. It calmed him.

As he turned the corner at the stern of the ship, he was aware of a soft spoken female voice. Somewhere in the deep recesses of his brain, he conjured a memory. This voice sounded familiar – he just couldn't place it. It was as if the words reverberated around him. First from behind, then above, and then as if it was resting on his shoulder. He tried to pinpoint its source. He failed.

'We told you not to interfere, Detective Inspector. Now it's too late… for you.'

Simpers lay on top of his bed gazing at the morning sunlight streaming through the full glass doors that led to the balcony. He drew comfort from the gentle movement of the ship as it cut through a now calm Atlantic Ocean. He smiled. The Commodore's prediction of better weather had come to pass. Had anyone told him he'd enjoy being afloat after a couple of days, he'd have thought them as mad as a box of frogs.

The detective's peace and quiet was short-lived. A gentle tap on his cabin door and the familiar voice of his steward heralded the start of his real day.

'Come in, Joki,' said Simpers.

The cabin steward folded the door back, while balancing a tray of tea and biscuits in his free hand. He placed the tray on the table next to Simpers and pointed to a small package that he had covered with a brilliant white cotton napkin.

'This is for you, sir. I do hope you enjoy your breakfast,' said Joki.

Simpers looked at the cabin steward with the professional eye of a detective.

'How intriguing,' said Simpers, before continuing, 'who did you say asked you to deliver it to me?'

'I didn't say, sir. I found it in the pantry where I store everything I need for my cabins. It just had a scrap of paper on top of it that said I should deliver it to you,' replied the cabin steward.

'Have you still got that piece of paper?'

'I'm sorry, sir, I put it in the waste chute with all the other rubbish early this morning.'

Simpers disappointment showed.

'Not to worry, Joki, it's always nice to receive a surprise gift, isn't it? Now tell me, you don't seem yourself this morning, are you all right?'

'Yes, sir. Everything is ticketyboo,' replied the cabin steward rather too forced for Simpers' liking.

'If you say so, Joki, I have to say I'm not sure I believe you. Has anyone been bothering you? The Commodore's steward… Good friends aren't you? He mentioned to me some of the stewards were having some sort of trouble, but didn't go into detail. Do you know anything about this, Joki?'

The cabin steward tried his best to continue about his business as normal. But his stiffening body language and lack of eye contact alarmed Simpers. He concluded there was something worrying the young man.

'As I said, sir, nothing is worrying me, will there be anything else?' said the young man as he hurried towards the cabin door. As he opened it, Simpers called out to him.

'If the Commodore's steward is the friend to you that I think he is, go talk to him. If you need my help, I want you to know you can trust me.'

Joki looked over his shoulder towards Simpers. His eyes moistened as he took in the sentiment behind the detective's words.

'The Commodore's steward, sir. Yes, he's a good friend,' replied Joki as he closed the cabin door behind him.

The verbal exchange had made Simpers forget the package on his breakfast tray. He only noticed it as he lifted the napkin to wipe away the remnants of breakfast from the side of his mouth. Simpers examined the brown paper package. It gave him no clue of its content, or sender.

Simpers undid the package with deliberate care, peeling it back one layer at a time. He scrutinised each surface for clues, though he had no idea what form such clues might take. He reached for a pair of latex gloves from his jacket before touching the item contained by the wrapping. Inside was a small, white, plain box, complete with loose lid, which he lifted and placed on the bed beside him. Its contents were hidden beneath a folded piece of paper that fitted the precise dimensions of the box.

Simpers removed the paper using a finger and thumb. A huge diamond glistened in the morning sun. The same sun that the detective had been enjoying in quiet contemplation twenty minute previously. Puzzled at the familiarity of the stone's shape and size, he read the note. Its dreadful implications now hit Simpers.

Dear Detective Inspector Simpers,

I thought you might like to know my experience has taught me the difference between a real diamond and a paste copy. I also wanted you to know that I intend for the real diamond to join its companions. Then I will leave the ship for a afternoon tea with the Griffins.

To this end, I would like you to meet with me to discuss options. I should explain, these comprise me taking delivery of the real diamond, in exchange for you continuing to live. Perhaps you could join me by elevator one, on deck four, midships at 10 o'clock this evening. I do hope you can make it. For your sake.

With best regards

your swimming partner

Simpers read the note several times. On each pass, he paused in the same two places: lap of Griffins, and, swimming partner. He racked his brain. Neither reference made any sense to him. Getting nowhere, he let the word puzzle rest. He distracted himself by recovering the diamond placed in his safekeeping from the safe. Simpers lay the real diamond and paste imitation next to one another on the dressing table. Standing back to view the two objects side by side, he marvelled how accurate the copy was to the original. He gazed on the two objects. One worth a king's ransom, the other perhaps £50. A knock on the door jolted him with its suddenness. Simpers went into auto-pilot and opened the wide dressing table drawer. He scooped both pieces of jewellery into its interior using the palm of his hand, to conceal its contents.

The door opened to reveal an unfamiliar face.

'I have just come to deliver some fresh towels, sir. May I place them in your bathroom?'

'Er, yes, of course. Where is my normal cabin steward?'

'I think he is off duty for a short while. I was just told to deliver these towels for you, sir.' replied the steward.

'I'm sorry,' replied Simpers before continuing, 'I didn't mean to sound as if I was questioning you. Please, do carry on.'

Simpers clarification seemed to calm the nervous young man down and he relaxed as he did as Simpers asked. Then he was gone.

Simpers returned his attention to the diamond and its copy. In his eagerness to retrieve the two items he dropped them onto the lush carpet as he retrieved them from the drawer. Cursing as he fell onto all fours, he scanned the floor. He soon located both objects under his bed. Simpers placed the sparkling objects back onto the dressing table, once again locating them side by side. Now he felt a sense of horror as he realised he couldn't tell the original from the fake. It wasn't like Simpers to panic. He had too much professional experience to allow such feelings to take control of him.

He remembered from his work with his station's art and antiques unit that there was an easy way to tell a real diamond from a fake. He retrieved the handwritten note from his bed, smoothed it flat and placed it onto the dressing table top. Next, he placed one of the objects onto the piece of paper and tried to read the writing through the gleaming stone. He was able to make out the words under the object with absolute clarity. Removing the stone from the piece of paper, he placed it to the left of the table top. Simpers now placed the second specimen onto the notepaper. This time he was unable to read the lettering. He allowed himself a smile as he picked the stone from the paper. Simpers wrapped it with the greatest care in the linen handkerchief in which he had received it from the Commodore. He had remembered that real diamonds refract light. This made it impossible to see straight through them – which was why he couldn't read the words on the scrap of paper. A paste replica had a different characteristic when exposed to light. It was possible to look through them as if it were a piece of glass. Satisfied he had sorted fake from genuine, he placed the real diamond back into the safe. Simpers then put the fake back into the box in which it had arrived a short time earlier.

***

'Well, Mr Simpers, here we are again. The days go so quick when you're enjoying yourself, don't they?' said Jenny Smeeton as the detective once more took a seat for dinner. Simpers scanned the table and noticed that an extra place had been set.

'It seems we are to be joined by the Purser this evening,' said Amelia. 'It's quite common for an officer to host a table. Part of the job you see. From my experience, they seem to hate it but the company insist they all do it.'

'Talk of the Devil,' said Ken Smeeton as he raised his gaze just above Simpers' head.

'Good evening, everyone. I do hope you don't mind me joining you this evening,' said the Purser as the table stewards fussed around him to ensure that he had everything he required. It was clear this was something the Purser expected and failed to acknowledge either man with any eye contact.

'Ah, Mr Simpers. It seems that only you and I dress for dinner,' said the Purser.

'I did read in the ship's newspaper this morning that dinner was to be casual. As you can see, Purser, I don't do casual,' replied Simpers, winking at Amelia as he did so.

'It seems the two of us share a desire to maintain standards,' said the Purser in a tone that seemed calculated to irritate his fellow diners.

'It seems the rest of us are paying for the privilege of dressing as we please,' said Prince Cedric. Amelia winked back at Simpers as the Purser gave the wooden doll a bemused look.

'Ah, yes, the marionette. I heard that we had a talented ventriloquist on board.'

'As a matter of fact, Cedric is not a marionette. Like most of us, he's not what he seems,' said Amelia.

'This is all getting a little too profound for me,' said Jenny. 'Time to order, I think.'

'That's a splendid idea. Now, who would like wine?'

As the Purser made his offer, he raised his right hand to beckon a nearby wine steward. From the woman's demeanour, she had been watching the Purser like a hawk in anticipation of his summons.

'Bring me a bottle of my usual red. Also a suitable white,' instructed the Purser without bothering to look at the wine steward.

The officer's table companions exchanged looks as a further sign that the Purser had not endeared himself to them. The wine steward gave a nod of her head before turning and leaving the table to fulfil the officer’s order.

'That's most generous of you, Purser,' said Ken Smeeton.

A smug smile spread across the Purser's face. Before he could respond to the compliment, Amelia interjected.

'I don't think you should feel too guilty, Ken. The company requires officers hosting tables to buy the wine. They claim it back on their expenses. Isn't that right, Purser?'

The officer's smirk diminished as Amelia's words hit their target.

'You're quite right, my dear lady,' replied the Purser. He worked hard to disguise his anger at what he perceived as a deliberate slight.

'Purser, I am not a dear lady. You may call me Amelia, or Mrs Johnson, if you would be so kind,' replied Amelia. She offered a now uncomfortable Purser a smile that could not hide its intentions.

'Of course, Mrs… er, Amelia; do forgive me,' spluttered the Purser who decided to retreat into the finer detail of his table menu to avoid further eye contact with his tormentor.

As the first course progressed, the Purser detailed every twist and turn of his maritime career. His table companions nodded and threw in the occasional 'is that so' as they endured his verbal onslaught.

'Of course, some of my scarier moments while serving in the Royal Navy were dealing with pirates,' continued the Purser.

Ken Smeeton couldn't contain himself any longer.

'Pirates? There aren't any pirates left. You'll be telling me that you had a run in with Bluebeard next,' he exclaimed.

'Not exactly,' replied the Purser, before continuing, 'I'm talking about Somali pirates. They were a tough lot. Had to be careful with them, that's for sure. I remember once…'

Amelia could stand the Purser's tall tales no longer, and cut across his line of conversation without mercy.

'Ah, my sweet, said Amelia as she looked down at her dish of profiteroles. 'I do so love choux pastry, don't you, Purser? You know, big and blowsy on the outside, but full of hot air on the inside.'

Amelia's table companions, except for the Purser, gave a stifled giggle at the comment. The officer tried to regain his composure and his perceived control of the table by turning his attention to Simpers. The detective was beginning to fold his table napkin as he looked at the time on the ornate clock on the far wall of the dining room. It was 9.53pm.

'So, Mr Simpers, have you had time to visit the gems exhibition? There are some fascinating pieces, are there not,' said the Purser, his voice and posture strengthening as he sought to dominate proceedings.

'Er, yes, I've been. Several splendid pieces, if I recall,' replied Simpers without taking his eyes from the clock.

'Of course, putting such an exhibition on is a risky thing, for everyone concerned, don't you agree?'

The Purser's comments struck a chord with Simpers as he began to get to his feet.

'When you say, everyone, would you say that includes the passengers as well?' replied the detective. His table companions began to take a closer interest in the exchange between the two men.

'Crew, passengers, and others,' replied the Purser as he busied himself drowning the last of his red wine.

Simpers concluded his reference to 'others' meant the Purser was trying to play games with him. He assumed the detective's table companions didn't know he was a policeman. As a result, his efforts to make Simpers look uncomfortable in front of his fellow travellers failed miserably.