Mersey Murder Mysteries Collection - Books 4-6

Chapter 2-2

Ross couldn"t help but laugh at his sergeant"s question. Drake of course, thought he was laughing at her.

“Hey,” she protested. “It"s not funny, just because I don"t know something.”

“It"s not that. I expected something deep and meaningful was playing on your mind, but it"s just the definition of a cargo liner.”

“Well, for heaven"s sake, are you going to tell me or not?”

“Alright, don"t get your knickers in a twist. A cargo liner is basically a cargo ship, a freighter, but one that"s been adapted to carry passengers as well as freight. There aren"t so many around nowadays but there used to be loads of them sailing around the world. Some were quite luxurious, with staterooms that could match the big ocean liners, others were pretty basic, with run-of-the-mill cabins and not much in the way of facilities for the passengers. They provided a cheaper way of getting from A to B than the big transatlantic liners, and sailed from lesser known ports so you could perhaps sail from, say, Rio de Janeiro to Liverpool for a reasonable cost, rather than having to travel to a large city like New York to pick up a berth on a large liner that might have to be booked weeks in advance. You get the idea?”

“Yes, I think so, thank you sir. So, these cargo liners are like maybe, one step up from a tramp steamer?”

“Well, I think you could class them as quite a bit better than that, Izzie. Some were so good they attracted the same passengers over and again, real customer loyalty.”

“And just how do you know all this stuff anyway?”

“Believe it or not, there was a documentary on the TV not long ago about them. Maria and I watched it together.”

“Ah, and how is the beautiful Doctor Ross?” Drake inquired of Ross"s wife, a general practitioner in a local medical practice.

“She"s well, thanks Izzie.”

“Good, now, let"s get parked and find this launch.”

* * *

Ross and Drake both tried hard to suppress a grin as they arrived at the pier to find the police launch ready and waiting to carry them out to the Alexandra Rose. The constable who greeted them on the dockside and led them down the steps to the waiting launch had told them their travelling companions were already aboard.

Alexandra Rose.It was the sight of William Nugent and Francis Lees that was the cause of their mirth. The pathologist and his assistant were seated side by side on the wooden thwart, the bench-like seat that traversed the deck of the little boat. Francis Lees, looking as cadaverous as ever, sat with his knees pressed tightly together, with his all-important camera bag resting on his lap. At his feet, another case rested, this one his well-worn sample case, used for short-term storage of any samples Nugent required from crime sites. Lees was staring straight ahead, and both detectives sensed his uncomfortable demeanour. Lees didn"t like being on the water, for sure. Beside him sat his boss, Doctor William Nugent. The highly experienced and grossly overweight pathologist, surely a candidate for a heart attack before too long if his waistline continued at its current rate of expansion, appeared, in contrast to his assistant to be relishing his "day out". Despite the fog that restricted their vision enormously, Nugent"s eyes were darting around, taking in the sights and probably the smells of his current surroundings. The Glaswegian doctor had a well renowned nose for scents of all varieties, being able to discern various aromas, common or rare with just a mere whiff of them reaching his olfactory senses. In short, the big man looked quite excited and completely unfazed by having to squeeze his bulk onto the narrow bench seat of the launch. Together, Nugent and Lees reminded Ross of the old acting pair, Peter Lorre and Sydney Greenstreet, who Ross always remembered from the film, The Maltese Falcon.

The Maltese Falcon.Seated opposite the pair on the other side of the launch was Miles Booker, the force"s senior Crime Scene Investigator. Booker smiled as he saw Ross and Drake being helped into the launch by Constable Keys of the Port Police.

“Not the best of weather for a trip into the estuary, eh, Andy,” Booker commented by way of a greeting.

“Can"t see past the front of the boat,” Ross agreed,

“That"s the bow, sir. You should know that by now,” Drake interrupted.

“Yes, I know that,” said Ross. “Anyway,” he whispered as he sat next to Booker, “our medico friends look like they"re out for a trip round the bay.”

“I heard that, Inspector Ross,” William Nugent said loudly from the other side of the boat.

“Good day to you, too, Doc,” said Ross, smiling. “I couldn"t help noticing you and Francis there looking like a pair of tourists out for the day. You actually look like you"re enjoying yourself for once.”

“Ah"m nay that miserable, surely,” the doctor replied, his Scottish accent rising to the fore as usual when he became annoyed or irritated.

“It has been known,” Ross replied. “And hello to you too, Francis. How"s things?”

Lees looked at Ross with a look of trepidation on his face.

“I don"t like boats,” he said, miserably.

“Aye, ye"ll be fine once we get going,” Nugent said as he reached out and patted Lees firmly on the back, almost knocking his unfortunate assistant from his perch on the bench seat.

Right on cue, a loud growl came from below their feet as the boat"s engine fired into life and a pall of smoke emanated from the exhausts at the rear, adding to the grey envelope of fog that surrounded the launch. Sergeant Alan Beswick stuck his head out of the small wheelhouse and called to Constable Keys.

“Cast off Malcolm.”

“Right you are Sarge,” Keys responded as he tossed the mooring rope at the front of the launch to a third officer who"d appeared like magic out of the fog. He repeated the exercise with the rear mooring rope and pushed the launch off from the dock.

Beswick spun the wheel and the launch swung round and moved away towards the centre of the river, its bow pointing downriver towards the estuary and the open sea. Satisfied he was clear of any obstacles he shouted to Ross and his companions.

“Welcome aboard folks. Sorry I couldn"t speak to you as you came aboard, but I"ve been making sure I have the exact position of the Alexandra Rose locked in to the on-board computer. In this fog we could sail within a hundred yards of her and not see her at all, so we need to be dead sure of our heading.”

Alexandra Rose“That"s reassuring,” Drake whispered in Ross"s ear.

“I"m sure you"ve done this many times, Sergeant,” Ross said, encouragingly to the sergeant, who shook his head.

“Actually, only once before, sir. We don"t often get called out in weather like this. The river"s usually dead in thick fog such as this.”

“Well, this time, it"s nae the Mersey that"s dead, but someone on it,” Nugent spoke up, much to Ross"s surprise.

“Was that your version of a joke, Doc?”

“Not at all, Inspector. Just a factual observation.”

“Of course it was,” Ross nodded his head as he spoke.

“It was close though,” said Izzie Drake, grinning.

“I"m surprised you have on-board computer technology, Sergeant,” she added.

“Nothing but the best for the River Police,” Beswick grinned. “Seriously though, we had to move with the times. We couldn"t function on the Mersey without the latest navigation and communication aids, even in our humble little launch here. You"d be surprised just what Morse is capable of.”

Morse“Morse?” Izzie queried.

Morse?“Yeah, you know, like in Inspector Morse,” Beswick grinned, referring to the famed fictional detective created by the author, Colin Dexter. “She might be slow, but she always gets there in the end.”

Keys joined his sergeant in a brief fit of laughter.

A sound that Ross felt resembled the sound of a parrot being strangled suddenly burst forth from the roof of the wheelhouse as Beswick turned on the launch"s fog horn as she headed out into deeper water. Compared to the deep, resonating sound he might have expected from a ship"s foghorn, the police launch"s twin air horns just couldn"t compare.

Can anyone actually hear that from more than twenty yards away?” he asked the sergeant in command of the boat.

“Don"t worry, sir. No one"s ever hit us yet,” Beswick replied.

Yet being the operative word, Drake thought, but didn"t say.

Yet being the operative wordThe muffling effect of the fog ensured that no sounds carried from the shore and they all felt as though they were floating through a dense and impenetrable grey cloud. The fog also had the effect of dampening the usual sounds one might expect to hear while navigating the Mersey Estuary and even the waves had bowed in supplication to the damp grey monster, being little more than tiny undulations that barely caused the launch to sway as it plodded along towards its destination. Ross looked across to where poor Francis Lees looked increasingly pale and worried. Ross couldn"t help smiling to himself. It was a standing joke among those members of his team who regularly came into contact with Lees that the man"s complexion was so pale, he looked deader than some of the corpses he worked with as Nugent"s assistant. If Francis Lees looked paler than usual, the poor man must be really suffering.

“Mr. Lees isn"t looking too good,” he said quietly to William Nugent. Lees didn"t appear to have heard Ross speaking about him.

“Don"t worry about young Francis. He"ll be fine once we board the big ship. He feels queasy just looking at the ripples on Stanley Park Lake,” referring to the lake in Liverpool"s 111 acre Stanley Park, a regular gathering point for family outings and coarse fishermen.

It was Drake"s turn to smile. "Young" Francis had to be at least thirty-five years old. He"d worked with Nugent for quite some years and the word "young" was a definite misnomer. At the same time, she felt a degree of sympathy for him in his current condition. Her thoughts turned to the recent case and the similar affliction of Sergeant Carole St. Clair of the Falmouth police. Only the precipitous use of anti-sea sickness tablets, motion sickness wrist bands and an efficacious concoction produced by the wardroom steward of H.M.S. Wyvern had enabled her to cope with her lack of sea legs. Looking closely, she could swear Lees was turning green.

H.M.S. WyvernThe fog was unrelenting as the small police launch made slow but steady progress towards the Alexandra Rose and Miles Booker took the time to quiz Ross on just how much he knew about the case so far.

Alexandra Rose“Very little information so far, Miles,” Ross said, ensuring that William Nugent could hear him too. The pathologist needed the information as much as the Crime Scene Investigator. “All I know is that the body was found by one of the ship"s officers when he was doing a tour of the passenger accommodation to inform the passengers of the potential delay in reaching port due to the fog. The ship"s doctor was summoned. He carried out an examination of the man, a Portuguese national I"m told and was unable to determine cause of death. The man hadn"t exhibited any signs of illness during the voyage, hadn"t consulted the doctor for so much as a headache, and the body showed no signs of violence. That"s about it, so far, I"m afraid.”