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‘Expenses like?’
‘Exactly.’
‘How much?’
Alex thought back to the conversation she’d had with Bud on the way to the boatyard when she told him what she was doing and how she hoped to confirm absolutely who had hired the boat. Give him what he wants, Devlin, he’d said. A pause. Within reason, of course. Of course, she’d replied, wondering what ‘within reason’ meant. How much Bud, usually tight-fisted with the cash, was willing to pay for information about a magazine editor who had been his rival in business.
She named a figure. Colin looked disappointed, made to get up out of his chair. She stifled a sigh. Named another figure. Colin grinned.
‘Cash, of course.’
Alex raised an eyebrow before delving into her bag and pulling out an envelope, thankful she’d had the foresight to stop off at a cashpoint on the way. She slid the envelope across the desk. Colin made to take it. She kept her hand on it. ‘One other thing.’
Colin cocked his head to one side. ‘Go on.’
‘Have you got a boat here that’s like Firefly Lady?’
‘You mean, the same inside and that?’
‘Exactly.’
He looked at her, then at the envelope. ‘I reckon that’s worth a bit more.’
‘All or nothing.’ She held his gaze.
Finally he nodded. ‘Okay.’ He put his hand over the envelope and pulled it towards him. ‘Feels fat enough.’
‘So?’ asked Alex.
‘We’ll show you round one of the boats.’ He slid the envelope into a drawer. ‘And I’ll tell you another thing. For free.’
‘Oh?’ Alex could see he was bursting to tell her something.
‘Barbecue.’ Colin Harper leaned back in his dilapidated office chair, hands folded behind his head.
‘Pardon?’
‘Barbecue. That’s what killed ’em. So Eddie said.’ Eddie, the loose-mouthed police officer. ‘They’d had a barbecue the night before and then brought it inside the boat. Strictly forbidden, of course. Stupid arses. If they’re going to have a barbecue they have to have it outside. There’s a perfectly good cooker inside. Eddie said they died of carbon monoxide poisoning. All the windows were tight shut. So was the door. Probably an accident, Eddie said.’
Alex was puzzled. ‘Why would they want to bring the barbecue inside, though? It wasn’t cold – far from it.’ She wasn’t buying the accident line.
‘You’d be surprised what some of them folk from London do. I’ve had all sorts to clear up on these boats. Not so bad since we banned hen and stag dos – dirty buggers they all were.’ He smirked. ‘Shisha pipes, blow-up dolls, party pills, all sorts of paraphernalia I wouldn’t want to talk about in front of a lady.’
Alex suppressed a smile. She got the distinct impression Colin would happily talk about anything in front of anybody, the more prurient the better.
‘Once I had to throw away several pairs of knickers. You know, underwear.’ He raised his eyebrows.
‘I think I do know, yes.’
‘See what I mean? You should never be surprised what folk do.’
‘Especially if they’re from London.’
He sat back in his chair, satisfied. ‘I knew you’d know what I was on about.’
Alex thought it would be best not to pursue the barbecue line at the moment. ‘Did your friend Eddie say whether the police think they knew each other?’
‘Looking into it, he said.’
‘Okay. Now, about the name of the other person who’d been booked on the boat?’
He shook his head. ‘Can’t give you that. Confidential. Data protection.’
‘What? But—’ Damn. That was the whole point of the bloody money. Her charm obviously wasn’t working.
He held up his finger. ‘But, say, if I was to go and get us a cup of coffee leaving my computer on, then—?’ He winked at her. ‘How do you take it?’
She winked back, relieved. ‘White, no sugar.’
‘Right you are.’
After he had left the room, Alex waited a few seconds, then went round to the other side of the desk. Although she knew this was what Colin meant for her to do, her palms were still sweaty and her heart pounding. Taking a deep breath she tapped the space bar on the keyboard, and the computer sprang to life.
And there it was. Details of the booking for a four-berth cruiser for a Mr Derek Daley and a Mr Roger Fleet. Booked – she peered at the date. Six weeks ago. Really? They’d been planning this for six weeks? Name of the person who booked it – Mr Derek Daley. She scrolled down, hoping to see addresses for Daley and Fleet. Sure enough, there they were. Derek Daley’s address was for a house in Hackney, Roger Fleet for one in Lapford in Suffolk. All she had to do was to give Daley’s address to the news desk and they could make sure it was that of the magazine editor and there it would be, confirmation. Enough for The Post, anyway. She frowned. So why did Derek Daley hire a boat for himself and Roger Fleet? A man from London and a man from Suffolk. What was the connection?
Suddenly she heard footsteps and the sound of someone whistling – Colin? Must be. She whipped out her phone and took a picture of the screen before going back to her seat.
‘All right, gel?’ Colin said, rubbing his hands together. ‘Didn’t bring you that coffee, thought you might want a look round that boat now?’
‘Please. It’ll give me a sense of where they were when—’
‘They weren’t on board long. Alive, that is. Bloody waste of money if you ask me. Took the boat out in the morning and were dead by the evening. That’s what the police reckoned anyway.’
‘The police being Eddie?’
He grinned in answer.
They went outside into the boatyard.
‘He’s a good lad is Eddie. His father was an eel catcher, you know. Dying out now. Eel catchers in the Fens. What a life, eh? The wildlife, the peace and quiet, the slow pace. No chasing to an office or anything like that. They used willow for the traps and set them in the evening and hopefully have a good catch by the next morning. Then it was local people what bought them. Or they went to market or whatever—’
‘Colin.’ Alex spoke firmly, hoping to stop him from reminiscing. ‘I’m sure it was a great job, but—’
‘Delicious.’
‘Delicious?’
‘Eels. To eat.’
‘I’m sure they are,’ said Alex, not convinced. She needed to get him back on track. ‘Do you need a deposit?’
‘From you?’ He looked surprised.
‘No. I mean, when you hire the boat, do you have to pay a deposit?’
‘You think I was born yesterday? Lady, just because I’m not some jumped-up fancy pants from London doesn’t mean to say I came down in last week’s shower. Of course we ask them for a deposit. They have to pay it to secure the boat, see? Like any good business.’ He shook his head. ‘As if I was born yesterday.’
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—’
‘It was booked by Daley, so it was Daley who paid. Simple.’
Alex felt stupid. She tried again. ‘Who showed Daley and Fleet to the boat? Gave them their lesson? I presume they had a lesson in how to steer and where things were and all that sort of thing?’
‘Well I’m not going to let them traverse the Broads of Norfolk and Suffolk without letting them know what’s what, am I now? That’s Mickey’s job. He’s around here somewhere – ah, talk of the Devil.’ He put two fingers between his lips and gave a piercing whistle. Alex had always wanted to be able to whistle like that but had never mastered the art and was always in awe of people who could. ‘Mickey, come on over here. I’ve got a young lady what wants to talk to you.’
Mickey strode over. He, too, had the look of someone who worked outdoors, with a tanned face and furrows of lines around his mouth and deep crow’s feet by his eyes. Black curly hair. A tattoo of a spider’s web on each elbow. Late forties, Alex guessed. He had a friendly smile.
‘Colin?’
‘Mickey, I would like you to show this young lady around a boat, please.’
‘Sure. Ms—?’
‘Alex,’ said Alex. ‘Alex Devlin.’
He nodded. ‘Nice to meet you, Alex.’
‘Mickey’s just started with us. Been here about – what?’ Colin pursed his lips.
‘Couple of months, actually.’ Mickey’s smile was easy. ‘Have I missed something? Which boat are you hiring today?’ He looked from one to the other.
‘No, you’re all right, Mickey, Alex wants to take a look around a boat because—’
‘I might want to hire one out with a couple of girlfriends sometime,’ she interrupted smoothly. She wanted Mickey to show her around not thinking of her as a journalist but as an ordinary punter.
‘Yeah. Course.’ Colin nodded vigorously. ‘That’s right. Can you do the honours, Mickey? And Mickey,’ he pointed at him, ‘tell the lady anything she wants to know, okay?’
‘Sure. Come on. This way.’
‘She wants to see Firefly Sister, I think, lad. Four berths, isn’t that right?’
‘Yes,’ said Alex, thrusting a business card into Colin’s hand before hurrying after Mickey. ‘Give us a call if you think of anything else,’ she said over her shoulder. ‘And thanks, Colin. For everything.’
‘Anytime. You know where I am.’ He gave the inevitable wink again.
Four white and gleaming boats were moored side by side along the river. They stopped by the second one along.
‘This one here is Firefly Sister. If you want to hop aboard?’
Alex didn’t think ‘hop’ was quite the right word. She’d never been one for boats, and despite living near the Broads for most of her life, had never sailed on one. She stepped gingerly onto the cruiser and peered through the open doors into the cabin.
‘This is the rear cabin, with one double and a single,’ said Mickey. ‘Go on through.’
Bending her head, Alex stepped inside the cabin.
The double bed looked comfortable enough, with its flowery duvet cover, white pillows, and neatly folded towels on the end. A mirror was fixed to the wall of a cupboard. The single bed was shaped like a coffin, and the bottom half of it disappeared underneath a cupboard. She didn’t fancy sleeping in that bed. There was a small chest of drawers.
‘If you go through, you’ll find the galley and the toilet and shower as well.’
She saw the small bathroom on her right, then a compact kitchen, another single bed, and the steering wheel. The whole boat did feel light and airy. ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘I didn’t realize there would be an ordinary steering wheel. And inside, too.’
‘It’s called the helm.’ Mickey sounded bored.
‘Right. Helm.’
She stood for a minute, thinking about Derek Daley and Roger Fleet coming on board a boat just like this a few short days ago. Who had the double bed? Which of them was consigned to the coffin bed? Or, more likely, the single bed in the living area. Did they have a cup of tea or any food before they died? What were they thinking about on that short trip up the river to Dillingham Broad and then to Poppy Island?
‘Is this like the boat where they – you know?’
Mickey frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
She relaxed her shoulders, wanting to sound casual. She stooped, peering through the window onto the towpath. ‘I heard they found a couple of dead people on a boat today. Was it a boat like this?’
A short silence.
‘What do you want to know for?’
Alex jumped, his breath was in her ear, his body close to hers, the smell of oil and the outdoors swirling around her. She turned around slowly, and he took a step back.
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. ‘I mean, it’s a funny thing to ask about, if you’re thinking of having a boating holiday yourself.’
‘I just heard about it and—’
Mickey stepped away from her and leaned against the worktop, crossing his arms. ‘Well, yes, it was a boat just like this. One on the double bed, the other on the single. I heard that Mr Harper is going to have to get new mattresses because they were soaked through with bodily fluids and slime and stuff. It was the warm weather and the flies. The stench was overpowering, I heard. A couple of the coppers threw up. Is that the sort of thing you wanted to know?’ He wasn’t smiling now.
‘Er—’ Alex didn’t know what to say.
‘So. Who are you? You’re not really wanting to hire a boat, are you? But you don’t strike me as a rubbernecker, either.’
So much for being an ordinary punter. She lifted her hands in surrender. ‘Busted,’ she said, lightly, wanting to get him back onside. ‘I’m a journalist.’
Mickey raised an eyebrow. ‘We’re not supposed to talk to any journalists.’
‘I appreciate that, Mickey, but Colin—’
‘Colin, is it? You want to watch him.’
‘I know what you mean.’ God, this was becoming more and more awkward. ‘But he’s been helpful. Seems to think you might be, too.’
