Page 38 of Murder in Portofino

I was interested to hear none of the backtracking he’d demonstrated when asked the same question by the lieutenant, but maybe that was because he was already visibly furious. ‘Of course she was, anybody could see it, the little slag! How else did she manage to do so well? That’s why he was going to give her my job. What a miserable little…’ The list of invective he then went on to level at Susie would have scandalised an East End docker and I could sense the passion – no doubt unrequited – below the surface. And unrequited passion can be a powerful motivator.

‘Until somebody murdered him.’ I deliberately let a more sinister note enter my voice and after a second or two, a new expression appeared on his face. This time, it wasn’t so much anger as uncertainty, and I saw him go straight into damage limitation mode – in fairness, remarkably fluently.

‘Yeah, you’re right, and like I said, it’s very sad.’ He didn’t sound it. ‘It’s particularly sad for me because I wanted the satisfaction of seeing him hauled up before an employment tribunal for his shameful treatment of me.’ He looked across at me and gave me a look of great sincerity, his eyes trained right on mine. ‘Murder is a terrible thing.’ I waited for another litany of swearwords, but this time, I waited in vain.

He might well have been a good comedian and a successful game-show host, but, as an actor, he lacked sincerity. Filing away this lack of sympathy for his deceased employer, I nodded. ‘It certainly is.’ I got to my feet and Oscar immediately did the same. ‘Anyway, thank you for your time. I need to go and speak to the captain now. Sorry to drag you away from your exercise.’

He gave me a generous smile – one that might well have been tinged with relief – and dived neatly into the pool.

As I climbed the stairs to the bridge, I reviewed the conversation with Grey. One thing was for sure: his choice of vocabulary meant that he would never have made it into the Oxford Union Debating Society, but, more significantly, I found it interesting that, when asked, he had had no hesitation at pointing the finger at both Edgar Beaumont and Susie Upton. Whether this was just because of antipathy towards them or to deflect suspicion from himself remained to be seen. Certainly, from what he’d told me, he’d had a deep and lasting loathing for the first victim. Deep enough to have made him resort to murder?

I found the captain up on the bridge, deep in discussion with a man in a smart, white shirt with gold braid on the epaulettes. Tamsin had pointed him out to me the previous day as the first officer, sort of a deputy captain, but we hadn’t spoken yet. He was probably no older than my daughter, in his early or maybe mid-thirties, and he was the first to look up when Oscar and I came in. As my arrival interrupted their conversation, I was quick to hold up an apologetic hand. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve come at a bad time. I can come back. It’s not a problem.’

The captain beckoned to me and we all shook hands. ‘Not at all. Do you know Timothy, my first officer? We’ve just been discussing how we’re going to reschedule parts of this week’s cruise in view of the fact that we’ve been stuck here for days. Have you any idea when the Carabinieri will let us leave?’

I shook my head. ‘I’m sorry, but I haven’t. I know the lieutenant’s gone across to a boatyard in Lavagna today where he’s hoping to unearth something that might help him solve this case. He’ll probably be calling back here a bit later on this afternoon, so you can ask him yourself.’

‘Thank you, I will. How can I help you now?’

‘It’s about the murder of Heinrich Schiller. I’ve been hearing rumours about your having had to speak to him in the past about fraternisation, or more, with guests on previous trips. Is that correct?’

She nodded. ‘Yes, I’m afraid so. Rick wasn’t one of our successes. He was sent to me by our head office in Genoa at a time when we were desperate to fill a vacancy, but I’ve been keeping an eye out for a replacement ever since. Apart from him having an unhealthy interest in our female guests, I’ve recently been hearing more serious allegations about possible theft.’ She caught my eye for a moment. ‘I’m appalled that he’s been murdered, but it wouldn’t surprise me if his death wasn’t just a random killing.’

‘In what way?’ Although I had a pretty good idea I knew what the answer was going to be.

‘I’m not aware of him being involved with any of the guests currently on the Regal Princess, but it wouldn’t totally surprise me if we were to discover that he’d been carrying on with one of them, and this might have aroused jealousy or worse.’

‘But you have no idea whether he might have been carrying on with someone?’

This time, the first officer answered. ‘One of the housekeeping staff mentioned something this morning but, since Rick’s now dead, I didn’t pay much attention. I think she said she’d seen him hanging around the guest accommodation.’

I immediately picked up on what he had said. ‘Thank you, I’ve heard that rumour as well. I believe I have to speak to a woman called Maggie. Does that sound right?’

The first officer nodded. ‘Maggie’s been with us for several seasons now and she knows more about what goes on in the ship than anybody on board. At this time of day, you’ll probably find her in the kitchen or in the saloon, preparing for lunch.’

22

TUESDAY LATE MORNING

I found Maggie in the saloon, skilfully folding freshly laundered napkins into fish shapes. She was probably in her forties and she had a friendly face. She was wearing the same regulation blue polo shirt and shorts as the other crewmembers and I spotted her name badge straight away. I went over to her and gave her a friendly smile. Oscar also trotted up to her and gave her bare knee a nudge with his nose and she looked up from her work and smiled back at both of us.

‘Hello. You’re with the police, aren’t you?’

I didn’t enlighten her as to my precise role here. ‘My name’s Dan Armstrong. I wonder if I could have a quick word. It’s about the deckhand who was murdered last night.’ She nodded and I looked around. For now, we were the only people in the saloon so I got straight to the point. ‘I’ve just been talking to the first officer and he said you were mentioning something this morning about Rick Schiller being seen around the guest accommodation. Is that correct?’

She nodded. ‘Yes, that was yesterday morning, just after ten. I was surprised to see him for two reasons: first, deckhands aren’t supposed to visit the guest accommodation and, second, seeing as he’d been on anchor watch the previous night, I would have expected him to have been in bed, catching up on his sleep.’ She had a lovely, singsong Welsh accent.

‘Would you be able to tell me if he spoke to anybody or if you think he’d been visiting one of the guests in their cabin?’

‘I can’t, I’m afraid. All I can tell you is that he was right at the far end of the corridor and there were no guests in sight. As soon as he saw me, he came hurrying past and disappeared. He didn’t speak to me and I could tell he knew he shouldn’t have been there. If he’d been visiting somebody in a cabin, I imagine it must have been one of the last two: that would be Ocean Spray to port or High Tide to starboard.’ Seeing the expression on my face, she explained. ‘The company think it more romantic not to give the cabins numbers, but the fancy names cause all sorts of confusion.’

I gave up trying to remember whether starboard was left and port right, or the other way round, and asked one or two other questions, but it soon became clear that this was all she’d seen, so I thanked her and left her to her napkins. A quick trip to the purser’s office give me the names of the occupants of the two cabins at the end of that corridor and they turned out to be Susie Upton and Martin Grey. This, I told myself, was potentially significant. I needed time to think things through before reporting back to Edgar Beaumont, so Oscar and I walked down to the pool deck and found it completely empty. Presumably people were either not in the mood for a swim or they were back in their cabins getting ready for lunch.

I wagged my finger at Oscar, warning him under no circumstances to go for a swim, and he grudgingly settled down beside me when I took a seat at a table in the shade. Less than a minute later, one of the hospitality staff appeared and asked me if I’d like a drink. I gladly ordered an espresso and asked if she could find a bowl of water for Oscar. While waiting for her to bring our drinks, I thought back on what I’d just learned. If our blackmail theory was correct, which of the two comedians had Schiller been visiting? If his purpose had been blackmail and he had been visiting Martin Grey, I presumed it must have been in relation to the murder of Jerome Van der Groot. If Schiller had been visiting Susie Upton, this might have been for the same reason or maybe something as simple as a close encounter with the sexy actress. Even though Susie had said that Schiller hadn’t been her type, Louise had said that she was no saint after all.

My musings were interrupted by the return of the waitress with, not only my coffee and a bowl of water for Oscar, but also a handful of biscuits for him. Before handing them over, she asked if it was all right to give them to him, and I swear I saw him nod before I did. When it comes to food, my Labrador displays remarkable comprehension skills.

Less than a minute after she’d left, we were joined by the familiar figure of Neil Vaughan.

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