Dead Calm (A Dylan Scott Mystery) (12 page)

Chapter Twenty-Two

Luke was bored with his game and his music. He was just plain bored. His mum was sitting in a chair next to her bed, reading on her Kindle, but there was no point asking again if he could go back to his own cabin or have a wander round the ship.

Something had freaked her out and it had to be more than his going for some food and leaving the cabin unlocked.

His dad was acting strange, too. Something was going on and he’d love to know what it was. He’d bet it was something to do with the old woman who died.

He flicked through old games on his phone but nothing grabbed his interest. He’d be glad when his gran came back and they could have a game of poker.

“Will you stop sighing, Luke?”

“I’m bored.”

“I can find you something to do, if you like,” she said.

“No, thanks.” She’d have him writing an essay on Norway or something. He was about to sigh again but managed to stop himself in time. He was bored though. Bored, bored, bored.

His baby sister was sleeping so she was no fun. He liked playing with Freya and making her laugh. The simplest of things amused her. He’d cover his face with his hands and peep out at her and she’d rock with laughter. He wouldn’t risk waking her though or he really would be in his mum’s bad books.

Someone knocked on the door and hope flared. He thought it might be his gran.

“Who is it?” his mum called out.

“Cabin crew, madam. Sorry to bother you so late.”

She went to the door and held it open for him. “What’s the problem?”

“There’s nothing at all to worry about. We have a fault on the heating system and I need to check this cabin. I’ll be two minutes at the most.”

“Oh, right. Could you be quiet, please?” She pointed at Freya and the bloke smiled.

“Of course,” he said in a whisper. “We don’t want the little one to wake, do we? We don’t want her getting cold either.”

He was carrying a small metal toolbox and he had a rubber glove sticking out of his trousers pocket.

“I need to go in the bathroom,” he said, still whispering.

He’d been in there for a few seconds when there was a clatter. It sounded to Luke as if he’d unscrewed the shower head and dropped it in the tray. Luke had been messing around and done the same thing in his cabin. He looked across at Freya, hoping the noise had woken her, but she was fast asleep. A marching band could practice by her cot and she’d sleep through it.

The chap came out of the bathroom. “All done. Sorry about the noise.” He walked to Freya’s cot and leaned over her. “She’s beautiful. Just like her mother.”

Luke groaned to himself. The smarmy git was chatting up his mum. Thankfully, she didn’t encourage him.

“Is that it?” she asked.

“Yes, all done. Once again, sorry to have disturbed you.” He opened the door to let himself out. “Sleep well.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Dylan left Ruby chatting to the Carrs and found a quiet corner to check his emails. Several downloaded slowly to his phone. None contained warnings or threats of violence, thank God, so he put his phone back in his pocket and looked around the room.

Tom Jackson was at the bar and being as loud and overbearing as he had on their first night aboard. He had a young brunette on his left and a willowy blonde on his right. It looked unlikely that he’d be sleeping alone tonight.

How the hell did he do it? He wasn’t the best-looking bloke on the ship by a mile. Surely there was more to it than promising young women he could get them work in television.

Sitting at a table on the opposite side of the room to Ruby and the Carrs were the Jorstads, Sigurd and Mathias. Their heads were bent and they were deep in conversation. They didn’t look guilty or concerned or particularly worried about anything, but for all Dylan knew, they could be discussing the way they’d murdered Hanna Larsen. Dylan doubted they’d get their own hands dirty but it would be easy enough for them, respectable businessmen who travelled this route often, to arrange for someone else to do the deed.

If that were the case though, they wouldn’t want to be on board. Far better if they were a few hundred miles away. And what had they actually gained from her death? It was feasible that Hanna’s daughter would inherit whatever there was to inherit and decide to sell the land to them as quickly as possible. It was equally likely that Hanna had left her worldly possessions to the local dog pound out of spite.

Surely to God there had to be some link to Hanna’s murder and the Jorstads’ determination to own her piece of land.

“Dylan, over here!”

Shit. Tom Jackson had spotted him and was waving him over. He had little choice but to cross the room and join the group.

“We can’t have you drinking alone, Dylan. Come and join the fun,” Jackson said. “Let me get another round of drinks in. What’s everyone having?”

Drinks were placed in front of everyone. The brunette was given two vodka shots. She drank one straight down. Perhaps Jackson got his women so drunk they were past caring who they slept with.

“Cheers, everyone,” Jackson said. “Let’s have our own party. Let’s make it the best night of the year.”

The next half hour included a lot of drinking, laughing and small talk, and Dylan could stand it no more. There were more urgent matters to attend to, like finding out who the hell was threatening him.

“Sorry. Things to do,” he said.

If anyone asked questions, he didn’t hear. He was too busy striding out of the ballroom to sanctuary.

Give Jackson his due, he wasn’t usually quite so insufferable. In fact, the only other time he’d been in that mood had been on the first night. Dylan had needed to escape that night too. If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have met Hanna Larsen.

He stopped in the corridor and peered out into the dark night.

Why had Jackson chosen this night to be all things to all men—and women? Why had he chosen the first night? True, it had won him a place in a sexy Norwegian’s bed the first time, but he couldn’t have known that would happen.

Everyone had been drinking back there but, now he stopped to think about it, Dylan didn’t recall seeing Jackson take so much as a sip from his own glass. In fact, he was fairly certain that Jackson had bought everyone a drink except himself.

That first night, everyone knew Jackson had headed off to a young woman’s cabin. Most of the passengers had seen him at the bar and most passengers heard that he’d spent the night with the Norwegian. It was a great alibi.

Dylan had no idea what women saw in Jackson, but he wouldn’t be a bit surprised if the bloke didn’t end up in the brunette’s bed tonight. She’d been all over him like a rash. In the morning, people would ask where he was and he’d have another perfect alibi. Everyone would be asked if they’d seen Jackson. “Of course,” they’d say. Everyone on the ship would have seen him because he was making sure he was highly visible.

Dylan marched back toward the ballroom and met Ruby on her way out.

“The very person,” he said.

A smile sprang to her lips then vanished. “My, you’re looking very serious, Dylan. Is everything all right?”

“I’m not sure. Could I have a word? Somewhere quiet?” They were yards from the door leading onto the deck. “Could we go outside for a minute?”

“Of course. What’s all this about?”

The idea of telling Ruby his suspicions was absurd. What could he say?
I think your son’s plotting to murder you? I believe that if it hadn’t been for Hanna Larsen kicking up a fuss and changing cabins at the last minute, you’d be lying in the morgue?

It was too crazy for words. For all he knew, Hanna’s heart had simply given up.

On the other hand, if he didn’t say something and woke to hear she’d been murdered in her bed—

The smoking area was fairly sheltered from the weather although it was snowing now and the deck was starting to resemble an ice rink. Dylan took off his jacket and put it around Ruby’s shoulders for extra warmth.

“Thank you.” She pulled it tighter so it was high around her neck. “So what’s on your mind, Dylan?”

“It’s about Hanna Larsen,” he said, his mind working frantically on trying to put his thoughts in order.

His phone vibrated, alerting him to a text message. Normally, he’d ignore it, but nothing on this ship felt normal. He opened the message, read it and felt his heart stop for a full beat.
Shit!

“I have to go, Ruby.” There was no time for explanations and he fired back a quick reply to the message as he ran along the corridor.

He was level with the sun lounge when movement caught his eye. Opposite, out on the deck, Mike Lloyd was running. Where the hell was he going?

On an impulse, Dylan turned around and retraced his steps. When he finally got out on deck, Lloyd was standing next to Ruby. They were deep in conversation. Lloyd bent down—

Dylan didn’t stop to think. He ran the last few yards, slipped on the snow-covered deck and cannoned straight into Lloyd and Ruby. Ruby crashed into the ship’s railing and lay there with blood oozing from a gash on her forehead.

Dylan dropped down and put a finger to her neck. He could feel a pulse, thank God.

A pair of feet came into his line of vision.

“Dylan? Oh, my—what’s happened?” It was his mother.

“Get the doctor. Quick!”

“I’ll go,” Lloyd said, already turning away.

Dylan lunged at him, grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back. “You’re going nowhere, sunshine.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

It was neither the time nor the place but Dylan finally realised who the ship’s captain reminded him of. Melgarde was a ringer for the bloke who played Captain Birdseye in the commercials. Both of them were odd buggers who you wouldn’t allow within five yards of your kids. He’d bet the chap who advertised fish fingers had never been this angry though. And Melgarde’s anger was nothing compared to Dylan’s.

“You tell me the fuck again.” Melgarde jabbed Dylan in the chest.

The small room was crowded and, again, Melgarde had the only chair. Mike Lloyd was leaning against the wall. As yet, he hadn’t said a word and he hadn’t so much as glanced at the other man in the room, Tom Jackson. Jackson had made several angry protests about wanting to be with his mother, but Melgarde had silenced him with as many “shut the fuck up”s.

“Okay,” Dylan said. “I saw this man—”

“Talking to Mrs. Jackson,” Lloyd muttered.

“Bollocks!” Dylan said. “I believe that Hanna Larsen was murdered and that—”

“She was.”

“What?”

“She was murdered,” Melgarde said. “The police messaged less than two hours ago. They will be coming aboard when we dock in—” he glanced at his watch, “—one more hour.”

“She was murdered?” Dylan had believed nothing else, but he was still surprised to hear the confirmation.

“Yes. The doctor who do the fucking autopsy or what they call it found evidence. She was suffocated.” He prodded Dylan in the chest again. “What the fuck this have to do with him?” He nodded at Lloyd.

“Hanna Larsen swapped cabins at the last minute,” Dylan said and Melgarde nodded impatiently. “I think Ruby Jackson, the woman who should have had that cabin—”

“The woman you knocked unconscious and almost fucking killed,” Melgarde put in.

“The very same. I believe she was the intended victim.”

“What?” Tom Jackson yanked Dylan round by the shoulder. “You think someone wanted to kill my mother?”

“I do.”

“But that’s crazy. Why would anyone—?”

“She’s a very wealthy woman.”

Lloyd still wasn’t speaking, but a nerve was pulsing at his throat.

“So she’s wealthy,” Jackson said, his voice shaking, “but why would anyone want to kill her? Who would benefit from her death?”

Dylan looked at him long and hard. “You would. I’m sure your TV company could do with a nice injection of capital.”

Jackson was so shocked by the accusation that he took an involuntary step backward and banged his head on the wall. He lifted a hand to rub it. “You surely don’t think—I mean you can’t seriously believe that I’d want my own mother killed?”

“Why not? Your TV company is losing money left, right and centre. You’d asked your mother for funding.”

“Yes, but so what? Wouldn’t you ask your mother? Wouldn’t anyone?” He rubbed his head again. “People turn to their parents in times of need. They don’t kill them.”

“Some do.”

“For God’s sake, Dylan. Get real.”

Jackson was convincing. So convincing that Dylan tried to think of someone else who might pay Lloyd to commit murder. Yet there was no one. Jackson was the only man in need of money who would benefit from Ruby’s death. He had to be involved.

“You policeman?” Melgarde asked, digging Dylan in the ribs yet again.

“Sort of.” What kind of stupid answer was that? “I was. I work—independently. Investigator.”

“And him?” Melgarde pointed at Mike Lloyd.

“I saw him about to—” Dylan didn’t know what he’d seen, but it had been enough for him to risk knocking Ruby unconscious rather than watch her being thrown into icy Arctic waters that would kill a person in minutes. “I saw him about to throw Mrs. Jackson overboard.”

“What?” Jackson and Lloyd spoke at the same time. Both had the same note of incredulity in their voices.

“That’s what I saw,” Dylan said.

“Never in a million years,” Lloyd said, addressing Melgarde. “I was talking to her, that’s all. Well, she was talking to me. The next thing I knew, this idiot cannoned into us and knocked Mrs. Jackson unconscious. It’s a miracle he didn’t kill the poor woman.”

“What the fuck?” Melgarde seemed incapable of uttering anything more than his favourite phrase. “And why the fuck are my passengers being evacuated from their cabins?”

“I’ve told you.” Dylan could scream. “Either a crew member or someone impersonating one, went to my cabin allegedly to check on a heating problem.”

“What heating problem?”

“Exactly!” Dylan was going to lose it in a minute. “My son sent me a text saying someone had come to check the heating and had been in the bathroom. That’s why, after making sure my family got the hell out of the cabin, I told you to seal off the whole area.”

“It is sealed off. We wait for police. What about him?”

“He’s the bastard I kill if I find out he’s been anywhere near my family.” Dylan’s threat did nothing. Lloyd didn’t so much as bat an eyelid.

“And he’s the man you think try to kill Mrs. Jackson?” Melgarde sounded doubtful.

“Yes.”

Round and round they went for the next half hour. Lloyd insisted he’d been doing nothing more than chatting to Ruby and that Dylan should be locked away in the nearest asylum. Tom Jackson was ready to offer to drive Dylan to the nearest asylum.

Perhaps Lloyd was speaking the truth. Perhaps Jackson had no wish to see his mother dead. And yet—

“Convince me you weren’t setting yourself up with a nice alibi tonight,” he said to Jackson.

“Of course I wasn’t. Bloody hell, Dylan, I was merely unwinding. Or trying to. As you said, as you know, my business is in dire straits. My phone hasn’t stopped ringing since I boarded this blasted ship.”

“Which phone?”

“Sorry?”

“Which phone hasn’t stopped ringing?” Dylan asked. “The one you used to make a call after I’d told you your mother should have been in Hanna Larsen’s cabin? Or the one you let me borrow to call my mother?”

“What? Are you completely mad?” This in a near whisper. “I have two phones. One’s my work phone, the other’s personal. I switch off the work phone now and again because there’s nothing I can do for the business when I’m on this ship. You are mad, aren’t you?”

Someone knocked on the door and Dylan swung round as it opened. He’d spoken to Luke on the phone, and Bev, but it was still a huge relief to see his son standing tall next to one of the security guys.

Luke walked into the room and stood close to Dylan. “That’s him.” He nodded at Lloyd. “He went into the bathroom and took the shower head off.”

Dylan was about to lunge at Lloyd and tear him limb from limb, when the strangest thing happened.

A sound, similar to a dog’s bark but more mechanical, silenced everyone.

“Shit!” Dylan grabbed Lloyd’s arm before he had a chance to switch off his phone and silence the ridiculous ringtone. He managed to wrestle the phone from Lloyd. “Answer it.”

Lloyd looked from Dylan to Melgarde and back to Dylan.

Dylan used one hand to shove Lloyd against the wall and the other to hold the phone to Lloyd’s face. “Answer it,” he said again.

Dylan pressed the speakerphone symbol and then hit Answer. He followed that up with an encouraging kick on the shin for Lloyd.

Lloyd didn’t utter a word. The female caller said, “Well? Is it done?”

Who the fuck—?

“Laura?” Every last spot of colour had drained from Tom Jackson’s face. He reached for the phone. “Laura?” he said again, his voice rising toward hysteria. “I don’t believe—what in hell’s name are you thinking of?”

The connection had been cut. Laura probably hadn’t even heard her brother’s voice.

Jackson dropped onto his haunches as if he no longer had the strength to keep himself upright. He dropped the phone and it slid across the floor toward its owner. He covered his face with his hands and rocked back and forth on his haunches.

“I want a lawyer.” Lloyd stood rigid, his gaze on an invisible spot on the wall. “I know my rights and I want a lawyer.”

“The fuck you do,” Melgarde burst out. “You want to answer the fucking questions.”

“Tell me what you were doing in my cabin.” Dylan had his hands so tight around Lloyd’s throat that he was probably incapable of answering. That wasn’t going to stop Dylan asking though. “What did you do in that cabin? Why the bathroom?”

Lloyd spat in Dylan’s face. “I want a lawyer.”

“What you want, you crazy bastard, is a lethal injection. Tell me about Laura Jackson. How long have you known her? You got this job, and she immediately made a last-minute booking, right? She had her mother’s cabin number and you were to do the deed on that first night. Except you cocked up, didn’t you? Laura didn’t know about the mix-up with the cabins, did she? You didn’t, either.” He gave Lloyd a sharp punch in the ribs. “How much was Laura paying you? Or did you plan to split the proceeds?”

“I want a lawyer!”