Diamond in the Blue: D.I. Simpers Investigates (2 page)

'Welcome to Westbay cruise terminal, sir. May I take your car keys; your vehicle will be ready on your return. Please be kind enough to present this receipt at the car valet reception point when you disembark, and do have a great trip.'

Simpers stepped out of his car and took possession of the receipt from the young man's outstretched arm. He noticed a porter had the car boot open, and was lifting Simpers' luggage onto a waiting trolley. The man looked as though he would rather be anywhere than his current location.

The detective looked on as his suitcase travelled ten feet to a large hole in an otherwise nondescript wall. Much to Simpers' distain, the porter flung his suitcase through the aperture with a distinct lack of ceremony. Before he had time to take the man to task, the vehicle valet gestured him from the car, so that his next customer could pull up.

So this is what a cruise terminal looks like, Simpers mused. He thought the cavernous space looked more like an over-sized tin can, and not the epitome of luxury that the TV adverts and glossy magazines would have people believe.

The place reverberated with the hubbub of the strangest mix of people Simpers had ever seen. He concluded that many had a waistline that stopped them seeing their feet, and certain other parts of their anatomy, for years. As for fashion sense, it appeared to range from bright shell-suits, to those who looked as if they were on their way to a Royal Garden Party.

He observed that reverse snobbery could well be at play here. According to his theory, those who paid for the expensive cabins – or 'state rooms' according to his ticket, dressed in the most casual of clothes. This left those of more modest means, who needed to show the world at large that they were the big spenders.

Vehicles arrived in a constant stream, washed and waxed especially for the occasion. Simpers likened the occupants leaping from their cars to the plug of toothpaste he sometimes had to eject from the tube to get the fresh stuff. Warming to his theme, he thought of several variations, but began to feel nauseous. He cleared his head to focus on the task of picking up his embarkation pass from somewhere amongst the throng.

It was now that he noticed the porters once more, of which there were more than you could shake a stick at. Each held on to a trolley for dear life, reminiscent of the heyday of British Rail, if ever there was such a time, Simpers thought. It seemed to him that the porters viewed the new arrivals as fair game to snare for profit. This, despite the signage around the place, saying gratuities were not required. This seemed to have no effect at all on the excited throng. In his mind, this proved his earlier theory; cruisers were keen to prove they had plenty of cash, whether true or not. A trait that the porters had tapped in to with gusto. Then again, Simpers thought, perhaps tips were well earned looking at the quantity of suitcases to hand. He calculated that since the ship could carry 2,000 passengers, between 6,000 and 8,000 bits of luggage had to be shifted. As he thought about his own modest travel case, he couldn't understand why people needed so many clothes.

It seemed to Simpers that cruising came complete with its own set of clandestine rules, understood only by those in the know. He half-expected to have to roll up a trouser-leg and recite tales of daring do about crossing the line to earn his boarding pass. He had tried his best to research the etiquette of cruising. It seemed that on your average voyage there would be several 'informal nights', with a fewer number of 'formal nights'. To add to the confusion, each had its own dress code. To make matters worse, there were rules for the time of the day when the dress code came into effect. Also specific areas of the ship where they applied. What, he thought, did one do if caught in the wrong place as the witching hour of the dress code approached? Did one get a change of clothes warning; did the ship sound its hooter? Perhaps those not complying had to skulk back to their cabin via some 'below stairs' route, so as not to offend those who adhered to the code.

***

'But I gave the passports to you,' said a large lady dressed in a blue and white twin set, replete with anchor motif. Simpers assumed he was her husband, since no ardent lovers on a romantic fling, would ever throw each other such a look.

'My dear, you took them off me when you told me to get your bloody swimsuit and laxit–'

'That will do, Phillip, there is no need to swear. Now, let's get on, or we will miss our priority boarding slot. We've spent too much on cruises to miss our perks,' said the woman with the merest glance in Simpers' direction as she scuttled off. The husband followed a royal two paces behind, fidgeting with his unconvincing comb-over.

Simpers looked around the huge building. He listened to the din as it bounced around the hard surfaces of corrugated steel and advertising hoardings. He pondered how many more travellers were having similar conversations as the man and woman he'd just overheard. At least, he thought, it saved them having to take any real interest in each other. Simpers' mind turned to the matter in hand as he headed for a snaking line of eager passengers that he thought looked the shortest. As usual, it was the other lines that moved faster than the one he happened to be in.

'Ticket, passport, and sea-shanty number please,' said the woman of mature years at the check-in desk. Simpers couldn't help fixing his gaze on her ears, which seemed to rise and fall as she spoke.

Simpers pondered how the check-in woman might look if she ever wore drop earrings. He looked at her cheeks to see if there were any scars, or other obvious signs of old injuries, borne from such earrings having flayed her flesh. Snapping Simpers out of his day-dream, the woman repeated her request. She looked past him to the lengthy queue stretching into the distance.

'Ticket, passport, and sea-shanty number, please.'

The woman's manner, and the tutting coming from the impatient cruisers behind, caused his cheeks to flush. For a brief, horrified moment, he thought her request meant singing a sea-shanty as part of the boarding procedure. Relief came when the woman with reciprocating ears added:

'…Or is this your first cruise with us?'

'Oh yes, yes, this is my first time,' Simpers spluttered, trying to look nonchalant as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He glimpsed the queue to his right and noticed those near enough to hear what had been going on. They wore a self-satisfied smirk that confirmed he was a cruise virgin.

'As it happens, I expected my tickets to be waiting for me at check-in – all a bit last minute, you know.'

'Look into my eyes,' she said in a tone of voice requiring compliance.

'Your eyes?' quizzed Simpers, at which point his life flashed before him. For a second he thought it was all over and he was having the sort of near-death, tunnel of light experience, he had read about.

His sight soon returned to something approaching normal. Trying to focus on the woman, and not her meandering ears, a laminated boarding pass card emerged from a machine in front of him. The woman returned his passport and a silver-coloured boarding pass. Simpers noted that the pass included a shiny silver image featuring a mermaid. Underneath, it read,
'Riding the Waves Together
'
.
Simpers felt that he would be quite happy getting through the next two weeks without the need to ride anything other than calm seas.

'Please wait in the passenger reception salon. Do help yourself to our complimentary refreshments. When you hear 'silver', please proceed to the embarkation jetty,' said the woman with strange ears.

Simpers did as he was instructed, and moved from the big shed to the smaller shed. This one had carpets and piped music. His efforts to secure a drink failed. The water cooler wasn't cool, and a red flashing light on the vending machine said, in effect, it needed a good seeing to.

'Detective Inspector Simpers?'

Simpers looked around to see a well turned out officer sporting four gold stripes on each cuff of his dark blue uniform. He had the bearing of a man used to having his instructions obeyed.

'Yes,' Simpers replied.

'Deputy Captain Cross, sir. Compliments of Commodore Brinton. He asks that you join him in his quarters.'

At last, thought Simpers, time to get on with the job.

'Please, if you wouldn't mind, sir.' The officer gestured with a slight dip of the head and gentle sweeping movement of his right hand in the general direction of the ship.

Simpers wasn't used to people calling him sir, other than his subordinates. That said, he rather liked it and his gait stiffened in response. It made a change from the reception he often got from 'Jo public' or 'the customer' as he now had to call them. He usually thought himself lucky to get an 'oi, mate'. More often it was 'why don't you sod off back up north and catch some ferrets', or words to that effect.

Simpers' mental meandering came to a halt with a start as he exited the shed with carpets and piped music. He was confronted by a wall of gleaming green steel that was the ship's hull, which rose from the water about twentyfeet in front of him. Looking right and left, there seemed no end to th
e
behemoth
. Cricking his neck trying to get a sense of its height, he let out a muffled cry of pain.

'Something up?' said Cross.

'Perk of the job, not, you might say, ' as he clutched his neck as if it were about to disengage from his shoulders. Courtesy of a villain grabbing my neck as I squeezed his genitals. I nicked him for taking pictures up a woman's skirt with a miniature camera concealed in the toecap of his left shoe.'

'Sounds like a fair response to me. I suppose I might have done the same if someone had hold of my nuts,' replied the officer.

'I suppose that's one way of looking at it. Then again, I wouldn't expect someone with four gold stripes on this arm to be taking pictures of ladies’ knickers,' said Simpers.

'Takes all sorts,' replied Cross, giving Simpers a sideways glance. 'Anyway, how was he discovered?'

'Villains, I hate. Stupid villains I have even less time for. He tripped on an uneven paving slab trying to get a picture of a young lady in front of him.'

'What happened?' said the Deputy Captain.

'Would you believe it, he complained of a broken ankle and threatened to sue the local council for compensation. He even managed to get tea and sympathy from the woman he fell into. Then the paramedics relieved him of his footwear. That's when his luck ran out. They followed a wire from his toecap, up his leg and through his underpants and into his pocket. The wire connected to a button he used to fire the camera.'

'Sounds quite clever to me,' said the Deputy Captain.

'You didn't see the state of his underpants,' retorted Simpers. He gave a shiver for added effect.

'Well, all I can say is that now we have the apprehender of the phantom knicker snapper on board, our gem snatchers won't stand a chance,' said the Deputy Captain with a tone of voice that veered too much towards the condescending for Simpers' liking.

Continuing to massage the nape of his neck, he followed the officer up the gangway. He resisted an illogical urge to look over the handrail and into the murky water between the ship's immense hull and the dockside. All that separated dock and ship was a line of huge tractor tyres that had seen better days. Leaving sight of the water behind, Simpers' stress levels tumbled as he entered a small security area just inside the hull. It was a claustrophobic space of hard metal surfaces and scanning machines. It was also all that now separated him from the Hollywood stage set he glimpsed through the industrial bulk head opening a few feet ahead.

'Place your phone, contents of your pockets, and hand luggage onto the scanner, please. Now please pass through the security arch'. The security officer watched Simpers as he complied.

As he walked through the arch it let out a loud beep and lit up like a Christmas tree. It dawned on Simpers that the detector had picked up the metal of his warrant badge. Without thinking, Simpers moved his right hand into his left inside breast pocket. He hesitated.

'Perhaps you have a metal comb or other object on your person, sir? Please empty your pockets,' said the security officer. He moved towards Simpers to take a closer look at what had sparked the scanner's interest.

Simpers felt the jabbing pain in his neck returning with vengeance.

'Don't worry about that, Mr Greenland. I can vouch for our guest.'

The security officer stopped in his tracks and turned to face the Deputy Captain.

'But, sir, company procedure?'

'Yes, you're quite right, but in this case I think we can make an exception, don't you?'

The security officer averted his eyes from his superior and half turned to give Simpers a quizzical look. He stepped to one side, giving the Deputy Captain a stern look as he did so.

Simpers thanked the security officer and gave his rescuer an appreciative glance. Cross nodded his head in acknowledgement. He smiled and beckoned the detective towards a petite female officer who was sporting a welcoming smile. She extended her right hand.

'May I see your cruise card please, sir?'

She glanced at the card before swiping it over a bar code reader. Simpers' image and state room details filled a computer screen as she gave him a visual once over. Picture and face matching and the tension of the past few minutes now broken, Simpers wanted to shout 'snap'. Instead, he thought better of the idea. Not least because levity was not one of his stronger traits. Instead, he thanked the smiling officer as she returned his card.

'Thank you, Mr Simpers and I do hope that you enjoy your cruise with us.'

Simpers' eyes widened in disbelief as he moved forward and caught sight of the triple-deck high atrium. He wasn't a man to let his facial expressions give any clue to his feelings. He'd learned the hard way that given the wrong set of circumstances, to do so risked danger. On this occasion he failed to conceal his amazement. He marvelled at the luxurious decor and attention to detail. The cruise line had triumphed in convincing its passengers that they had just entered a sumptuous hotel. Simpers considered they had taken to heart the maxim that you don't get a second chance to make a first impression.

His eyes now focused on a stream of glistening water as it made its way down the outside of luminescent glass beads. The waterfall tumbled more than forty feet into a kidney shaped mini-lagoon. Underwater lighting completed the effect. A hoard of coins pointed to its use as a good luck charm. He pondered what it was about water that compelled otherwise sensible people to throw money into it. Simpers concluded that even amid luxury such as this, some people still had wishes they hoped to fulfil some day.

Simpers overcame his admiration for the engineering involved in the poshest water feature he had ever seen. He couldn't help thinking that all things being equal, water belonged on the outside of a ship. After all, wasn't there enough of the stuff about, without it sloshing all over the place in-doors? Then again, he thought, perhaps the coins served as offerings to Neptune for calm seas. Also for help in keeping food down and allowing digestive systems to work at their own pace. Unwilling to get on the wrong side of Neptune, Simpers fumbled in his pockets and threw a coin into the shimmering liquid.

The detective joined his fellow cruisers in receiving a warm welcome from a line of smiling stewards. Each dressed in a smart white uniform, replete with matching gloves. For those that wished it, a steward immediately relieved them of any hand luggage and whisked them off to their cabin. Other passengers sat around the atrium drinking coffee. They seemed to be eyeing each other up for any sign of a better wardrobe being on display. Simpers noticed conversations between strangers usually started with the same question. 'And how many cruises have you been on?'

To his front stood the reception desk, made from a curving expanse of gleaming black marble that served as a counter top. The massive structure was supported by an oak panelled frontage. Four immaculate half gold stripe young officers stood behind the massive construction. They were pensive; poised for the coming onslaught. One of their number, who didn't look as though he had reached his majority, had a sage look on his face. He was dealing with the couple Simpers had come across in the arrivals hall. The detective wondered what she had lost this time and could not resist moving a little closer to overhear the encounter.

'But I told the travel agent that due to my wife's medical complaint, it was imperative we have a deluxe sprung bed with double foam topper. Due to the large number of cruises we have taken with yourselves, he said this would not be a problem. So, I ask again for a free upgrade.'

'But, sir,' the young man replied. 'If you had booked one of our deluxe staterooms, you would have received a deluxe sprung bed and topper. As it is, you booked an inside cabin on deck one.'

At this point the man grew more nervous as he kept one eye on his wife and the other on nearby passengers. After all, they may have overheard the young man let slip news of their modest accommodation in the bowels of the ship for the next two weeks.

'Of course, you can pay for an upgrade. I'll check if we have the required accommodation available for you, if you wish,' said the young officer.

Sweat beads now appeared on the man's forehead. It dawned on him that he would have to tell his wife that their well-practiced hustle to gain a free upgrade had failed, again.

'Per…per, pay?' spluttered the man. 'I don't think you understand just how many cruises we have taken with your company…'

'Yes, I can see from our system that you have taken several cruises with us and enjoyed an inside cabin on deck one on each occasion. I also see that we have dealt with similar upgrade requests from you on previous occasions, sir.'

The knowing look from the young man and growing impatience of other passengers in the queue made Simpers smile. He concluded they, too, were about to pitch for an upgrade. His interest ended as the elderly man threw his arms in the air, then turned to his wife and announced, 'I told you it wouldn't be any good, and why is it always me that has to ask?'

'I don't know what you're talking about, you stupid man,' replied the woman.' She checked the proximity of other passengers, adjusting the volume of her voice to achieve the widest possible audience. 'Now, come away. We need to check whether we are dining at the Commodore's table again this cruise.'

The man looked even more confused. Simpers concluded they had no more dined with the Commodore than found a cure for sea sickness. If they had, he thought, he would forgive them anything.

Simpers racked his brain thinking what complaint the woman might have. He concluded that her countenance was unpleasant enough to frighten horses and young children alike. It was inconceivable, he thought, that she might also have some hideous medical complaint folk needed to be weary of.

Their plans in tatters, the defeated couple turned away from the desk. The woman held her back and limped for theatrical effect. Shortly after, Simpers noticed them drowning their sorrows in a nearby cappuccino bar. They glared at one another with a sort of look that only many years of practice achieved.

Never mind, don't ask, don't get, thought Simpers.

'OK, we're just about ready, so let's get you up to the Commodore,' announced the Deputy Captain as he pointed the detective to a bank of four elevators adjacent to the reception area.

With a calming chime, the doors to the elevator slid open. Stepping inside, they turned around to face back into the atrium. Standing side by side they looked an odd couple, the Deputy Captain, tall and dapper. Simpers, 5' 8'' in his socks, and a shirt and tie that refused to co-operate with his suit jacket.

As the doors closed, Simpers noticed a statuesque, elegant woman staring at him from the far side of the atrium.