Diamond in the Blue: D.I. Simpers Investigates (10 page)

'The guy just smiled at me and said they were just thankful to be on the ground. He told me to look back over my shoulder as I left the airport to see how the landing strip perched on the side of the mountain.'

'Was he right?'

'You bet the hell he was right. It looked as though it was stuck on with glue and bits of string. As I said, they've extended the runway now, but I bet passengers still clap when they're back on the tarmac.'

A few minutes later the two men came to a junction. To the right, the road disappeared into the distance, which seemed foreshortened by a steep incline. To their front and right, a pathway formed a long first step of around fifty which led to the Monte Church. The old building nestled into the mountainside with its striking twin bell towers separated by an exquisite black and white stone facade.

The two men ran forward a few feet onto the pathway as they reacted to the loud voice behind them and the screeching of brakes.

'Fora do caminho, estúpido
…'

They looked back to see an animated man hanging out of a flat backed van that had seen better days. The man's raised voice was at odds with the white straw boater sitting on his head at a jaunty angle.

'louco, louco
,' added the man as he waved his hand, gesturing the two men to get out of the road.

'Languages were never my strong point, but I presume he wasn't asking us what time it was,' said Simpers.

'Not to put too fine a point on it, he called us stupid and that we should get out of his way… Oh, and that we were both crazy,' responded the Deputy Captain.

It was only then that Simpers noticed the van piled high with what appeared to be cane furniture, the type he saw in conservatory ads.

'I'm guessing those things aren't used for lounging around the pool,' said Simpers. His comments came as he watched two men dressed from head to toe in white, including matching straw boaters. They untied their load, dropping them onto the tarmac with a thud.

'I'm guessing this is your surprise,' Simpers continued. 'I take it this does not involve an exhibition of cane furniture?'

'Spot on,' responded the Deputy Captain. 'It's wintertime and I'm taking you back to your youth. Everybody loves a toboggan ride and the added bonus is you don't need woolly gloves and a bob hat, it's 70°!'

Simpers was doing his best to keep his temper in check. It was one thing hanging off a wire in a tin box to look at a pile of black and white bricks, no matter how worthy the reputation of the church was. It was quite another to now slide back down the stupid mountain on something that pandas spend sixteen hours a day eating.

'Well, are you up for it? It beats walking back down… Unless you want to get back on the gondola?' said the Deputy Captain.

'And you can wipe that grin off your face. I suppose a taxi is out of the question?'

'Do you see any taxis,' replied the Deputy Captain with an exaggerated sweep of his arm as if surveying the horizon.

'você monta
?' shouted one of two men stood by the front most toboggan, as he beckoned Simpers and the Deputy Captain.

'He's asking us to…' began the Deputy Captain.

'I don't need to speak Portuguese to know he wants us to climb in,' replied Simpers.

'Come on, it's my treat. You never know, you might enjoy it.'

Simpers could see the queue of eager cruise passengers waiting their turn. Unwilling to show his nervousness, he clambered aboard the toboggan. As the Deputy Captain lifted his leg to assume his position, his mobile phone rang. Letting go of the toboggan, he turned as if not wanting to share his conversation with Simpers. At the same time the two men dressed in white moved from the back of the toboggan. Each picked up a length of rope attached to the front of the runners. In a well practised movement, each pulled on the rope and pulled the toboggan forward. As the bamboo contraption gathered speed the men reposition themselves at the rear. Each placed one foot on a runner, the other employed a sort of pedalling action on the road surface. Simpers experienced nausea from the unexpected movement, and irritation at the Deputy Captain's absence. Simpers noticed the officer deep in conversation and with his back to the toboggan.

Simpers cursed the officer, not knowing whether his absence was by accident or design. He tried hard with his well practised antidote to vertigo in trying to focus on a distant stationary object. As the toboggan gathered speed and slid from side to side, the high stone walls on either side of the narrow road did nothing to help. His nausea worsened as his two drivers made constant adjustments. Their feet kissed the tarmac to keep the gondola in the middle of the road as it meandered on its descent. The detective's nervousness grew to a crescendo as he realised that the road he was careering down wasn't one way traffic. As they rounded a blind corner, it widened to reveal a familiar white dashed line in the centre of the tarmac. This was all that separated the flimsy toboggan from anything coming up the mountain. Before he had time to take in the possible consequences, his worst fears materialised. A tourist coach appeared as if from nowhere.

As the toboggan careered onwards, the drivers started to have difficulty in holding its position. It swayed from side to side, a problem made worse by the over corrections by its now panicking drivers. Within seconds the oncoming coach was on them. Simpers leaned to his left and crouched down as the urgent calls between his two companions reached a crescendo. Seconds later, the toboggan came within inches of the bus. Simpers felt the reflected heat from the metal panels of the coach and in the blink of an eye, it had passed. His near nemeses gave Simpers a farewell gift of exhaust fumes, which swaddled him in a purple haze of almost burnt diesel oil.

Simpers delighted in hearing only the grating of the wooden runners on the tarmac, rather than the harsh metal of the tour bus. He even started to enjoy the rush of air passing his body from the speed of the toboggan. Behind him, his two drivers returned to their previous good humour. Simpers considered this was more out of relief than his own good company.

The relative enjoyment of all three ended as the toboggan took a sharp impact on its right side from a second toboggan that had appeared as if from nowhere. This pushed it left and almost into a high stone wall that bordered the road.

'
fugir, fugir
' get away, get away,' screamed one of the drivers as he tried in vain to push the stranger's toboggan out of the way.

The force of the blow pushed Simpers sideways in the opposite direction. As he tried in vain to regain his balance, he slipped from his chair and into the foot well of the toboggan.

A second blow hit the rickety construction, which was by now within inches of the wall.

A third blow sent it into a wild spin as the front corner hit the ragged stonework.

Simpers lifted his head and opened his eyes to see his two drivers sprawled over the tarmac. He also now realised the toboggan was hurtling backwards down the mountain. He couldn't understand how it could continue to move with such speed, now that it had lost the foot power of the two men. The mystery resolved itself as he managed to get himself back into his seat. He looked over his shoulder and down the steep incline of the road. The toboggan, that had seconds earlier rammed his own with such violence, now had it in tow. The rope his drivers had used to get the toboggan moving in the first place was now used to shackle it to its tormentor. As Simpers tried to take in the situation, the stranger guided his own toboggan to the right and slowed down. This allowed Simpers' toboggan to pass. As it did so, the stranger leaned to the left. He attempted to make contact, which Simpers assumed would propel his ride at even greater speed down the mountain. The detective's focus moved from his would-be assailant, towards a crossroad that now loomed into sight. He scanned left and right hoping not to see vehicles coming from either direction. He knew he wouldn't stand a chance in his bamboo conveyance if he hit anything.

Within seconds the toboggan was at the crossroads. There was nothing at all that Simpers could do to alter what was about to happen. He considered jumping from the contraption, but concluded he was safer on board. The alternative of rolling around on the tarmac at the mercy of any crossing traffic didn't appeal to him one bit.

His worst nightmare seemed to be happening as he caught sight of a vehicle to his left. He knew he had two choices: to allow his frame to fall limp to limit any damage to his body or to brace himself and protect his head as best he could.

Deciding the second option provided the best hope for survival, he cradled his head between his arms. He waited for the impact, expecting it to hurt.

Then, all was quiet.

The toboggan came to a stop.

Simpers held his position. He waited.

He waited for the pain. It didn't come. Was he dreaming, he wondered? Or was he dead?

'
você está bem? …
you, er…OK?'

Simpers unfurled his arms and lifted his head to see an old woman peering at him. She offered the detective a thumbs up gesture and a reassuring, toothy smile. Simpers looked around to see where the other toboggan was. Instead, he saw several. Each with their drivers and passengers queued in a neat line around twenty yards behind him up the steep incline. Instead of concerned faces, all he could see was a wall of camera phones pointing at him. People never change, he thought.

***

'You're damn lucky, Detective. If that car had hit you at the crossroads you'd have been a goner. It's a good job the other toboggan managed to pull you up,' said the Deputy Captain, as he offered Simpers a glass of Saddleback beer.

'Damn lucky? That toboggan almost did for me. And where were you? I recall you took a mobile call. Convenient, that. I hope it was important.'

'As it happens, it was. Sorry about that,' replied the Deputy Captain, without making any attempt to explain who had phoned him.

'I don't know what you think happened, but from the reports I've received, your drivers haven't been getting on. It seems they were arguing with one another and ended up throwing punches and losing their balance. If it hadn't been for the other toboggan… Well, who's to say. Now, drink up and let's get you back to your cabin.'

'This is the second time I've been sat in your officers’ mess drinking Saddleback beer, having almost met my maker. It's also the second time you suggested you get me back to my cabin to recuperate. As I've said before, policemen don't believe in coincidences. Do you?'

'Us seafarers. Well, you know what they say about such folk, we're a superstitious lot. Now, I forgot to mention it, I've got something for you.'

The Deputy Captain reached down to the side of his leather carver chair and picked up a small gift wrapped box and handed it to the detective.

'What am I supposed to do with a ceramic shoe?' responded Simpers, struggling to untie a coloured ribbon holding the box closed.

'The shoe is a symbol of good fortune in Madeira. The guys who run the toboggan company went spare when they found out what had happened. They asked that I pass the gift on to you and to wish you good luck for the future.'

Simpers looked at the small object. He pondered what the hell was going on. Had somebody just tried to kill him? Or had somebody just saved his life? Simpers concluded that he'd need more than a ceramic shoe and good luck to keep him safe on this case.

As usual, Simpers was the last to take his seat at the dinner table.

'Have you had a busy day, Mr Simpers?' said Amelia.

'I suppose you might call it, interesting, rather than busy.'

Realising his use of the word, interesting, served to encourage further questions, he moved on.

'What about your day. If you don't mind me saying, you sound a little tired,' replied Simpers.

'I told Amelia we shouldn't have done that Lavada stuff. We didn't have the footwear for it – I told her, you know. And I knew the tour operator was lying when she said it would just be a gentle walk down a section of the mountain. But would she listen? What do you think…' interjected Jonathan.

Amelia looked at the young man and offered him a sheepish smile. She winced as she shuffled her feet under the table to ease the pain from her recently acquired blisters.

'Yes, yes, I knew you'd do the, I told you so, routine. If you must know, I had a chat to a couple of passengers yesterday. They said they'd done the same walk and that it was great fun.'

'I bet it was that couple that looked as though they could run the London Marathon once a fortnight, and twice on a Sunday, replied Jonathan.

'Now you're being ridiculous. Just because they spend a lot of time on board in the gym doesn't mean their feet are any more supple than mine. Anyway, Mr Simpers here doesn't want to hear about our woes,' said Amelia.

'Funny you should say that, Amelia. I was only talking to the Deputy Captain about Lavadas earlier today,' said Simpers.

'I bet he didn't tell you that you needed to be a mountain goat to walk beside the bloody things, did he?' responded Jonathan.

Simpers sensed her growing displeasure and the risk of her throwing the bread she was holding at Jonathan. He decided the best course of action was to divert attention to the Smeetons.

'Jenny, Ken, what have you been up to today?'

'Well, to be truthful,' replied Jenny, 'we're glad to be back for a rest. A nice couple we met the other night, you know, the ones with the masks… oh, I forgot, they weren't all wearing masks, weren't they.' Simpers blushed at the mental images he had called up from the previous evening. 'Anyway, it turns out they are friends with a rather select set who rented a villa just out of Funchal. I have to say they were all most energetic, so to speak.'

'And I suppose they trek up and down Levadas to keep in trim,' said Jonathan, as he continued to provoke Amelia.

'Er… I don't think so. They didn't mention it. To be truthful, we weren't there for the conversation,' replied Jenny, now wearing an even broader smile.

Simpers thought it fortunate the line of conversation came to a merciful halt by the table steward. The young man asked each of them, starting with the ladies, for their choice of starters and main course. The crew member worked his way around the table until he came to the familiar silent figure sitting to Amelia's left.

'Good evening, old chap. One will take the carrot and coriander soup, followed by beef Wellington. May one request the portions to be on the small side, one has one's figure to consider, what?'

The steward jotted down the diminutive wooden figure's order without batting an eyelid. The episode had not gone unnoticed by other passengers close enough to catch a side view of the ventriloquist dummy. They became mesmerised when its mouth opened and closed in synchronisation with the words spoken.

'How do you do that,' said an elderly man sat a few feet away from the marionette.

'Are you talking to me, or to Prince Cedric?' replied Amelia

'Do you know, if I'm honest, I'm not sure,' replied the elderly man as he looked first at the wooden doll, then Amelia, and then back to the doll.

'Let's just say Prince Cedric and I have an understanding,' answered Amelia, winking at the old man as she did so. He winked back, then turned his attention toward his plate of melon boat and Palma Ham.

The rest of the meal passed off well enough with convivial conversation flowing between Simpers and his table companions. In the few days they'd spent in each other's company a peculiar camaraderie had developed between them. Even though others may have viewed them as an eclectic assortment of individuals with odd interests.

The table stewards began to serve cheese and biscuits. As they did so, Simpers observed a noticeable movement of passengers from the dining room.

'They're making sure they get into the theatre early to grab a seat,' said Amelia. 'There's supposed to be a good magician headlining tonight. You fancy going, Mr Simpers?' Amelia added as she caught sight of Simpers watching the trail of passengers leaving the room.

'Not my cup of tea, to be honest. Believe it or not, in my youth I played in a band and we once had the misfortune to support a magician act at a holiday camp.'

'You, a musician? What did you play?' asked Amelia.

'A bass guitar… not well at all. Anyway, that's not the point. What I can say is, if you caught on how these tricks work, you'd want a cold shower as a punishment for falling for them.'

'All the more reason for you joining us in the theatre so that you can spill the beans on how he performs the tricks. Deal?' replied Amelia.

Simpers knew when the game was up. Against his better judgement, he agreed to join his table companions.

'I just need to get back to my cabin and put Prince Cedric to bed. Save me a seat, will you, Jonathan,' said Amelia.

'Sorry, can't do that. I read in the newsletter that we are not allowed to save seats for people in the theatre,' replied Jonathan, much to Amelia's chagrin.

'When you get inside, check it out… and I'll bet you there’ll be strong looking woman, standing and looking at the doors. They'll have an arm up like a traffic policeman trying to catch the attention of a friend or two that they are saving a seat for. So shut up, grow up, and save me a seat, or we'll be having words.'

Jonathan had known Amelia for long enough to know her comments about growing up were in jest. As for the rest, he knew she was deadly serious and he did not want Amelia to 'have words with him'. She had had words with him before, and it wasn't a pleasant experience. For one thing, it could be confusing. The last time, he didn't know whether it was her talking, or the vase, or the statue he happened to be standing next to when she threw her voice.

'Amelia was right. Look at those two down there. They're like sentries. I wouldn't like to meet them in an underpass on a dark night,' said Jenny Smeeton. The women seemed to work in pairs. One sat at the end of the row; the other several seats in, depending on how many places were being reserved for their companions.

Simpers now understood why so many of his fellow diners had left the room before coffee and mints. The theatre had filled in minutes. It reminded him of being at school with the most precious seats being at the back.

'It's the front row for us, I'm afraid,' said Ken Smeeton. 'Whatever you do – and I'm talking to you in particular, Jonathan, don't volunteer to go up on stage. You know what these magicians are like, they're looking for a sucker. I'm not saying you look like a sucker, but they're on the lookout for anybody fool enough to give them eye contact.'

For all Jonathan's youth, he understood what Ken meant and nodded his head in agreement. The young man was also wise enough to obey Amelia's command. So he placed a used table napkin he happened to have in his jacket pocket onto the chair between himself and Simpers. This, he felt with some confidence, would serve as a warning to passers-by that the seat had an occupant.

A few minutes later Amelia appeared. She looked down at the stained napkin, then glanced at Jonathan and shook her head in mild disgust. She gestured to Jonathan that he should remove the offending material. She dusted whatever may have fallen from the napkin onto the seat away with the back of her hand, and in Jonathan's direction. Content all was clean, she took her seat with a distinct lack of delicacy. As she did so, the house lights dimmed and a disembodied voice boomed from the surroundsound speakers.

'Ladies and gentleman, the performance is about to begin. We do not allow the taking of photos or videos due to copyright laws. Please enjoy the show.'

'Nothing to do with that, you know,' Amelia whispered to Jonathan. 'They just want you to buy the act's DVD at the end of the show. My husband made a mint pulling the same trick.'

Amelia's lecture to Jonathan on the subject of merchandising came to an abrupt halt. A loud bang and huge puff of smoke filled the auditorium. A high-pitched squeal then dominated as the magician catapulted onto the stage through a trapdoor. Unfortunately for the magician, the door hadn't opened to its full extent as he had started his ascent. On his way through, he had clipped his right ear, leaving a trickle of blood dripping onto his shoulder. The magician did his best in concealing his pain in the best traditions of the show having to go on. He winced once or twice as he gave an impressive display of wild hand movements. These provided the distraction he needed to dab the oozing liquid from his throbbing ear.

After a flurry of rapid fire illusions, the magician waited for the applause to die down. He addressed the audience, at the same time, removing a black silk cover with a swish of his hand. A stainless steel pedestal around two feet tall revealed itself. The stand had a small round top on which perched a bright red telephone, circa 1950s model.

'I'm looking for someone special to help me with my next illusion. Any volunteers?'

The magician scanned the front couple of rows for anybody that was giving him eye contact. Despite Simpers keeping his eyes on the tips of his shoes, the magician zeroed in on the hapless detective.

'Perhaps you, sir?'

Try as Simpers did not to do so, he found himself looking up at the magician while shaking his head. He also held his right hand up to the horizontal, palm open and to the magician. Simper' discomfort continued as the magician pressed his case. His saviour came in the form of Jenny Smeeton as she popped up like a rabbit from her chair and bounded onto the stage. Simpers was still calming himself down as Jonathan bent forward to catch Ken Smeeton's attention.

'I thought you said we shouldn't volunteer for anything?'

'It seems my wife has seen something in that magician that she finds attractive. In such cases I'm afraid logic goes right out the window.'

As Jenny Smeeton basked in the attention of being centre stage, the magician whispered into her ear. Jenny frowned from time to time as if labouring at the amount of information she was digesting.

'Ladies and gentlemen, my brave volunteer, Jenny, has agreed to take any telephone messages for me as I continue with my act. She is under strict instructions to answer the phone within two rings. If she does not, a surprise awaits her.' As he spoke, he positioned Jenny next to the telephone and continued with the rest of the show.

'It's called auto-suggestion, Amelia,' said Simpers as he leant into her, speaking in a low voice.

'I know exactly how this trick works, Mr Simpers. There is a spring loaded pin in the handgrip of that telephone, which he controls. When she picks up the handset he will distract her. The phone will ring again, and he will press a small connection in his hand. That will trigger the pin and give Jenny what she thinks is an electric shock. Of course, he will have told Jenny that it is, indeed, an electric shock. And the only way to avoid a shock is to answer the phone quickly enough – which of course she won't, because he holds the zapper.'

A few seconds later, the phone rang. Jenny lifted the handset. As Amelia predicted, the magician started to hurl quick fire questions at the hapless woman. As Jenny started to answer his questions she jumped with both feet as the concealed pin hit her right palm. The audience collapsed in laughter as the magician feigned surprise. He took the phone from Jenny, placing it to his ear and gesturing to the audience that he couldn't understand what the problem was.

As Jenny composed herself and the magician continued with the act, the phone rang once again. Unsure whether she should lift the handset or not, she remembered his words. The longer she left the phone, the bigger the surprise she would get. And she now knew what surprise awaited her. She once again picked up the handset.

This time the magician brought Jenny's attention to some imaginary objects in the wings of the stage. The result was that she failed to answer the phone in time. Once again she received a sharp prick, which she assumed was an electric shock, to her right palm only this time more powerful. Such was the force of the shock, Jenny flung the phone to the floor. Again the magician picked it up and placed it to his ear. He feigned even more surprise at Jenny's odd behaviour.

When the laughter had died down, he checked Jenny was OK to continue. The magician then warned the audience that if she failed in her task the third time, the table on which the telephone sat would explode. He went on to explain the grave danger that Jenny, and indeed the audience would be in if this was to occur. Jenny's eyes switched between the telephone and the table on which it sat as if willing the phone not to ring. On cue, the telephone sprang to life. Jenny had decided that this time she would lift the handset toot suite. But after one ring, the phone went silent. The magician looked at Jenny, asking her what she had done to the thing. As Jenny shook her head and looked at the handset, it once again sprang into life. Alarmed, Jenny grabbed it. It appeared to be stuck to the metal top on which it sat. The magician placed a hand on either side of his head as if in panic, which served only to send the audience into greater waves of laughter. Jenny returned the magician's panicked look – she thought he was serious. He gestured Jenny to move away from the phone and heightened the tension still further by grabbing her arm and pulling the panicked woman to one side, at which point the telephone shot upwards and backwards. Smoke filled the stage once more, to the accompaniment of a loud bang. The audience let out a simultaneous gasp of surprise. Jenny pressed herself into the magician without thinking. He appeared pleased at the turn of events.