Dying For a Cruise Read online

  She heard Gabriel’s footsteps on the plank, and a moment later saw his dark shape silently make its way towards the large tent.

  ‘Ah, chaps, I was hoping to catch you alone for a few minutes,’ she heard him say jovially. ‘I thought it best to tell you straightaway, so there would be no misunderstandings, so to speak.’

  Jenny, who had already guessed exactly what it was that Gabriel Olney wished to say – namely ‘you’re both fired’ – hastily decided she’d had enough air for one night, and stepped through into the games room.

  Although most of the lights had been turned off now that the Swan’s engines were idle (the bulk of the electricity coming via a generator that the turning paddle wheels kept charged up), she easily made her way into the salon. She’d gone through the room so often, her mind had memorized the layout of it without her conscious thought. From there she went through the galley and into her own little cubbyhole of a bedroom. There she brushed her teeth at a tiny washbasin, donned her nightgown and crawled into the tiny bed.

  It squeaked and groaned like a tub of trampled mice.

  Jenny gave a grunt, turned off the puny overhead light, and rolled onto her side. She only just managed to stop herself falling off the narrow mattress, and gave a long, tremulous sigh.

  Then she closed her eyes and went to sleep.

  Breakfast next morning was an odd affair. Lucas Finch was determinedly jovial. It was almost as if he was trying to fool himself into thinking that he didn’t really care that the Swan was lost to him. He helped himself to huge amounts of food, and ate it with every outward appearance of pleasure.

  Francis watched him with blank eyes that Lucas would catch now and then, and ignore.

  Jasmine simply sat and glowered, at her husband, at Lucas, and at the parrot.

  The parrot, sensitive soul that he was, was very much aware of her acrimonious gaze and paced nervously across the sideboard. So intent was he on keeping an eye on Jasmine that, when he reached the end, he kept on walking, and with a squawk of utter surprise, fell off the other end.

  Jasmine laughed nastily.

  Lucas looked down at the parrot, which turned and looked up at him, and said mildly, ‘What a pillock.’

  He returned his attention back to his eggs and bacon, and beamed at Dorothy Leigh, who was half-heartedly picking her way through some deliciously fragrant scrambled eggs with herbs.

  ‘Do you have any pets, love?’ he asked, and nodded at the parrot, which had flown back to the sideboard, and was eyeing his dish of nuts and fruit with a somewhat bilious eye.

  Dorothy smiled. She was rather fond of the parrot. ‘I have a dog. She’s a Collie, actually. I have a devil of a job keeping her coat in top condition. I seem to spend hours grooming her.’

  Lucas cast the parrot an amiable look, and then reached for a piece of peach with which to tempt him. ‘The things you do, hey?’ he said softly, watching the bird eat with a crinkle-eyed smile.

  Dorothy gave him a rather tender look. She thought Lucas was being a really good sport about all this, and she liked that in a man. She had no idea what Gabriel had done to him to make him part with the boat, but she knew it must be breaking his heart. Yet here he was the next morning, acting as right as rain, and trying to make sure that all his guests were having a good time. He might be a diamond in the rough, but at least he was acting like a real man should.

  When he turned back from feeding his bird, she gave him a dazzling smile.

  Gabriel watched her, his lips twisting into a malicious grin. Let old Lucas have his moment of glory. He could afford to be magnanimous, now that he had what he wanted. Now, all he had to do was get rid of Jasmine.

  David Leigh suddenly pushed his plate away. ‘If you don’t mind, I think I’ll just … er … go and change. I was hoping to take a walk before we started off.’

  Lucas glanced at the young solicitor. He had difficulty in focusing his thoughts. All he could think about was the Swan. His lovely, elegant and beloved Swan. ‘What? Oh, yes, that’s fine. We won’t set off until ten o’clock or so. Take your time, me old china,’ he said heartily.

  David nodded. Dorothy tried to catch his eye, but he studiously avoided looking at her as he rose. She gnawed on her lower lip worriedly as she watched him go. He’d said nothing about her joining him for this walk of his. Should she go up to their room and invite herself along? Or was he desperate for some time alone? Oh, if only Gabriel wasn’t aboard this trip. She was sure that all of this tension was his fault. Poor Lucas. Poor Jasmine. And poor, poor David.

  She stabbed her mound of eggs viciously with her fork.

  But she was not the only one who’d be glad when this trip was over. Jasmine Olney, for one, was desperate to get to the bank. If only she could withdraw some money before the second cheque Gabby had written out could be cleared, she might yet still be able to salvage something. Better still, if she could only think of some way of getting her hands on all their money! She’d be off like a shot. Let Gabriel divorce her if he couldn’t find her!

  Lucas was finding it harder and harder to carry on playing the role of genial host. All he could think about was what happened once they docked. For as soon as David Leigh had drawn up the papers, and they’d been signed and processed, the Swan would glide out of his life forever.

  With Gabriel Olney at the wheel.

  It was a thought that left a gaping hole in his soul. He couldn’t bring himself to look across at the gloating ex-solider. If he did …. His hands curled so hard around the knife he was using that his fingers ached.

  Jenny, knowing that everyone was at breakfast, had taken the opportunity to use the bathroom. She had luxuriated in a ten-minute soak in the tub, and now, powdered and glowing a healthy pink, she opened the door, dressed in a fresh summer dress of pansy purple.

  As she shut the door behind her, she heard a second, echoing click, and stared at the door handle blankly for a moment. Then she quickly turned around and saw David Leigh coming through the open door opposite. She made a rapid show of rooting about in her toiletries bag, checking that her soap and flannel were present, and not even glancing up as David Leigh passed her.

  If she had done so, she might have noticed the rather pensive glance he gave her. Only when she heard his light steps going quickly down the stairs did she close the bath bag and look up thoughtfully.

  The bathroom was on the port side of the boat, at the rear.

  That meant that the bedroom opposite her, the bedroom that David Leigh had just exited, was on the rear side of the starboard deck. But yesterday she’d clearly seen Dorothy Leigh lean on the balcony of the bedroom nearest the prow – the front end of the boat. Or the pointed end, as her father had been wont to call it. So either Dorothy had been in Gabriel Olney’s bedroom yesterday – a patently absurd thought – or David Leigh had just emerged from the Olneys’ room just now.

  Now what, Jenny thought grimly, had he been up to in there?

  She frowned, then sighed, and went slowly down the stairs. Just a few more hours, she thought encouragingly. A few more hours and she’d be free and clear. There was no need to be so pessimistic. After all, what could happen in just a few hours? Unfortunately, as Jenny knew only too well from past and bitter experience, an awful lot could happen. But that, surely, wasn’t going to happen here? No. She gave a mental head shake and told herself not to worry.

  She was beginning to let this paranoia where murder was concerned get the better of her, she thought grimly.

  She made her way, with determined optimism, towards the galley via the starboard deck, and glanced in the window to the dining room as she did so.

  David Leigh had reappeared, and was tucking into his sausages with every appearance of appetite. Opposite him, Gabriel Olney reached for some more toast.

  Well, at least it appeared that this meal was going to be consumed, she noted with a satisfied nod. In a much better frame of mind now, the uneasy cook stepped into her domain, and awaited the arrival of the dirty dishes.


  Using the block and tackle, Brian O’Keefe hauled the heavier logs he’d chopped up on the riverbank earlier that morning and winched them on board, placing them onto a trolley. It was an old porter’s trolley, exactly like the kind they used in railway stations, with long upward handles and four tiny wheels attached to a low wooden base. He pushed the trolley towards the storeroom, and upended the wood onto the floor. He’d chop them into more manageable logs later. Lucas liked to raise steam the old-fashioned way. The sun was rising, and they’d be setting off soon. He’d have to start hauling in some more coal soon. Then he’d need to wash up, because bloody coal dust got everywhere.

  He moved down the small corridor to the starboard deck, and once there, turned towards the rear. He walked to the very end and lifted the lid off a wooden box, where the non-essential equipment was habitually stored. He had, at that point, no idea that he had an audience.

  He dropped in the block and tackle and let the lid drop with a small thud. His shirt was already beginning to stick to his back, so he pulled it off, turning to the fresh-water butt stored at a right angle to the trunk. It was about four feet high, a foot or so wide, and was full of blessedly cool water. It was used as a backup, in case the boat ran out of water for domestic use.

  Brian scooped a large handful in his cupped hands and sluiced it over his face, shivering happily as he did so. He felt it run over his chest and down his nape, and sighed loudly. He put the lid back on, mindful of how easy it was for water to evaporate in this heat, and turned.

  Then stopped dead in his tracks.

  The large and oddly attractive cook, and the pretty blonde woman, were sitting on chairs at the other end of the deck, openly watching him. He smiled at them, gave a slight nod, and with a rather wry twist of his lips, headed back down the corridor towards his engine room.

  He hoped they’d enjoyed the show.

  Now it was time to work up some steam.

  Jenny (who had indeed thoroughly enjoyed the show) turned back to her contemplation of the river whilst also reviewing the tempting display of rippling, masculine muscle she’d just seen.

  She’d been a little surprised to be joined by Dorothy Leigh, just ten minutes earlier, but she could quite understand why. With her husband off on a lone walk, she hadn’t felt like joining the others on the port deck. With the mouse away, the cat in Gabriel would have been apt to play.

  A few minutes later the engines began to throb, so presumably David had returned from his walk. That he seemed to be in no hurry to seek out his wife, however, was soon obvious, for, as the Swan began to move out into mid-stream, they remained alone on the deck.

  ‘Really, I do wish Lucas hadn’t invited Mr Olney along on this trip,’ Dorothy said suddenly, as if she’d uncannily read the cook’s thoughts. ‘He can be so … well …’ She fumbled in vain for the right words. ‘I don’t think he realizes how people can misinterpret his teasing.’ She had eventually settled for something of an understatement, and glanced at her companion awkwardly.

  Jenny cast her a quick, thoughtful look. She herself had seen the way Gabriel had openly pursued Dorothy, and was a little surprised by the married woman’s naiveté.

  ‘I don’t think that he is teasing, is he?’ she said, but very mildly. ‘A man like that, a man who’s so obviously dissatisfied with his marriage, is always on the lookout for a good excuse to break away from it. And what better excuse is there than to find another woman?’

  Dorothy stared at her aghast. ‘But I’ve done nothing, I’ve said nothing to make him think that I….’ Her voice spluttered out in an appalled whisper, and Jenny cursed herself for her lack of tact, and quickly shook her head.

  ‘No, Mrs Leigh, I didn’t mean to suggest that you had,’ she said, gently but firmly. ‘I’m merely pointing out that, to a man like Gabriel Olney, you make a very good target.’

  Jenny, in fact, doubted that Gabriel was serious in his pursuit of the pretty blonde. Apart from his natural and somewhat loathsome method of flirting, he was probably only trying to push Jasmine to the limit, thus forcing her to seek a divorce.

  The very fact that Dorothy was pregnant, not to mention happily married, had probably made Gabriel feel very safe indeed. After all, what man wanted a pregnant woman for a mistress? No, Jenny was mostly convinced that he was just using Dorothy as a convenience.

  A quick flirtation, a good excuse to give to a judge in a divorce hearing, and he’d be free of Jasmine once and for all. What would it matter to a man of Gabriel’s unfeeling arrogance if he ruined Dorothy’s marriage in the process? So long as he got what he wanted. Then it would be just himself, and the Stillwater Swan.

  Jenny felt a ludicrous surge of sympathy for the boat. It was as if she was beginning to think of the elegant white vessel as a living creature!

  On the bank, a party of girl guides shouted and pointed in excitement as they caught sight of the steamer. Their group leader impulsively waved, which, of course, immediately set the rest of the gang off. On the bridge, Tobias Lester must have spotted them, for the next instant the melodious, haunting tone of the Swan’s steam whistle rent the air, letting off a cloud of steam as it did so.

  The girls on the bank became frantic with excitement, jumping up and down, and making Jenny smile.

  Beside her, Dorothy Leigh did not smile. In fact, Dorothy Leigh looked very near to tears.

  Knowing she could do nothing to help her, Jenny left Dorothy to her thoughts and returned to the galley. Noon was fast approaching, and she wanted to make some chestnut forcemeat to wrap in cold chicken, to go with the salad. Whilst she was at it, she supposed, she could also make some devilled butter and some tomato cream butter. It went so well with the cold meats and garlic bread she had prepared.

  On the port deck, an energetic game of some sort was being played, and from time to time the cook could hear the odd shout of triumph or groan of displeasure.

  Dorothy, drawn by the same sounds, made her way to the other side of the boat, and immediately spotted her husband sitting in a deckchair and observing the activity with a brooding air.

  Lucas and Jasmine were teamed up against himself and Gabriel. It was an odd arrangement and one that made David want to laugh out loud. If only they knew.

  Lucas rattled about, sweeping a highly polished round piece of wood along the smooth planking, bringing it to within only inches of the target. It was a sort of curling-cum-bowls game that went so well with life on board a boat. Jasmine applauded his accuracy. ‘Well done, partner,’ she squealed theatrically, throwing her arms around his neck and giving him a kiss.

  Lucas smiled at her, somewhat bleakly. He was having a hard time of it. He wanted nothing more than to go somewhere and shout and scream.

  In fact, he wanted to kill.

  The Swan was lost. This might be the last time he ever cruised aboard her. And the wife of the man who’d taken her away from him was kissing him, playing her own damned silly little games.

  ‘Your turn, Leigh,’ Gabriel prompted, from where he was watching at the side of the rails.

  David, who from the dark circles under his eyes obviously hadn’t slept well, got up tiredly and with some difficulty from the chair and walked towards his own ‘stone’. As he did so, Gabriel moved over to his spot, taking his place in the chair.

  Dorothy, who had been leaning on the back of the chair, quickly straightened and went to take a step away, but before she could move, Gabriel grabbed her wrist.

  ‘Stay, and keep me company, Dotty. Your husband and I are partners, after all,’ he laughed, and indicated the improvized game under way.

  Dorothy swallowed hard. Her throat felt suddenly dry.

  ‘I don’t think …’ she said, then gasped to a halt as, with deliberate insouciance, Gabriel took her hand, which he was still holding, and raised it to his lips. As well as being old-fashioned, the gesture was also curiously intimate.

  She cast an agonized glance at her husband’s back. Luckily, he was too busy concentrating on a
iming his stone to look behind him at what was going on. But Gabriel was looking at his wife, his eyes glittering with amused animosity.

  Jasmine returned the compliment, staring at him with hard, hating eyes.

  ‘You know, m’dear, you really shouldn’t be so standoffish,’ Gabriel purred as Dorothy snatched her hand away, her furious scowl making Jasmine laugh scornfully. Olney flushed an ugly red.

  David, hearing the laugh, turned, saw the direction of Jasmine’s gaze, and looked over his shoulder. He saw Dorothy’s scowl and Gabriel’s sudden smirk, and the wooden ball in his hand twitched as a spasm of uncontrolled rage washed over him. His fingers curled tight around the wooden stone.

  And then David looked down at the smooth, hard, wooden ball, as if seeing it properly for the first time, and began to smile.

  A few yards away, Gabriel lowered his voice to a husky whisper. ‘You really shouldn’t antagonize clients of your husband’s firm, m’dear,’ he chided her gently, studying Dorothy’s mutinous face with a half-angry, half-amused smile. Really, the woman was such a child. ‘After all, if I were suddenly to withdraw my business from the venerable offices of Pringle, Ford and Soames, they’d be somewhat concerned. And if I should tell them that it was because I wasn’t happy with the performance of one of their juniors….’ He shrugged eloquently.

  He knew that baiting Dorothy was rather unsporting, a bit like shooting fish in a barrel, in fact, but he was in a fey kind of mood. Jasmine was wearing on his nerves like a bad-fitting uniform, and he was in just the right frame of mind to curse all women.

  Dorothy gasped and went pale. ‘You wouldn’t,’ she said.

  The very way she said it, with such an appalled air, made Gabriel feel even more vicious.

  ‘I just might,’ he said, keeping his voice deliberately light. ‘Why don’t you try being nice to me for a change, hmm?’ he goaded, his eyes on his wife, who was watching them with narrow-lidded alertness. ‘After all, it’s not much to ask, is it?’ he murmured, recapturing her hand, and pressing the back of it to his lips.