Chapter 12

12

MONDAY LUNCHTIME

Lunch was excellent, but I'd been expecting no less – after all, the Regal Princess boasted a chef and a sous-chef. It started with a choice of cold lobster salad or cheese soufflés – or both – and was followed by steamed turbot in a blue cheese sauce or, for the meat eaters, wonderful, tender fillet steak. The food was accompanied by ice-cold white Burgundy and a powerful but highly aromatic Rioja – although I noticed that Billy Webster stuck with pint mugs of beer. I opted for the steak as my main course and I couldn't help noticing that the wooden-handled steak knives looked remarkably similar to the description I had received of the murder weapon. Might there be one missing? I wondered.

The meal was immaculately served by two Filipino stewards and the mood around the table – at least at our end – soon lightened up. Susie had placed herself to my right and Anna was on my left with Tamsin beyond her. Susie was good company and in chatty mood – no doubt the large gin and tonic had helped in that respect. If she had been hurt by Grey's insult, it didn't show. I couldn't help remembering the way his hand had been resting on her thigh down at the pool and I wondered exactly what her relationship with him was. Surely if they were intimate, then calling her a slut would appear to show that all was not rosy between them.

As we ate, I gradually discovered more about my lunch companions and their all-expenses-paid cruise. As I had surmised, the trip had been sponsored by GreyratTV, as the brainchild of the CEO, Jerome Van der Groot, with the intention of combining business with pleasure. I learned that several hours each day had been devoted to plenary sessions discussing programming for the next twenty-four months. Tamsin told us that the company, while specialising in entertainment programmes, was further subdivided into different categories such as quiz, game, stand-up and so on. The representatives of each of these different disciplines had had to pitch ideas to the general assembly for discussion in the course of the cruise and then decisions had been taken on whether to go ahead or not. In all cases, the ultimate arbiter had been Van der Groot himself and I could easily see how internal rivalries could have developed and how he could have made himself popular with some, but deeply unpopular with others.

But deeply enough for somebody to commit murder?

On a more personal level, I learned that partners had not been invited and so there had effectively been twelve unaccompanied individuals here, eleven since the death of Jerome Van der Groot. Tamsin told us that she'd been married for only six months and was regretting being separated from her husband for two whole weeks but, like the others, she had accepted that it was just part of the job. Her job, I discovered, was that of producer/director of the best known of the quiz shows. This must have made quite a change from historical documentaries but presumably it had seen her career follow an upward trajectory. Anna was excellent at digging out bits of scandal from those around us – like the fact that Martin Grey had been slapped across the face by Louise from Payroll after he'd tried to grope her by the pool.

Susie surreptitiously pointed Louise out to me on the opposite side of the table to Edgar Beaumont, where she was engaged in earnest conversation with the man with the Glaswegian accent who was apparently the head of PR. Louise Challenger was the serious-looking woman I had spotted earlier on the watersports deck. With her tightly pulled-back hair and glasses, she certainly didn't look as if she fell into the ‘slut' category. I could well imagine her outrage at being assaulted by the foul-mouthed Liverpudlian.

It all sounded par for the course with this sort of work/leisure environment, but I was unable to unearth any deep and lasting grudges, the sort that can lead to murder. The sad fact of the matter was that by the time we reached the excellent crème br?lée , I was no nearer to knowing who might have wanted to murder Jerome Van der Groot than I had been before sitting down to eat.

Things got a bit more interesting at coffee time. This was served along with the offer of a very good Cognac, but I thanked the steward and accepted the coffee and declined the hard stuff. In fact, I'd been going easy on alcohol all meal as I was trying to keep my mental faculties reasonably sharp. A glance at my watch told me that it was almost half past two by this time, and I'd told the lieutenant I would give him a call before three, so I was just wondering about thanking Tamsin and asking for a lift back to the harbour when a furious row broke out at the far end of the table. Predictably, this involved Martin Grey. There was the sound of a fist banging on the table hard enough to rouse Oscar from no doubt sweet dreams of squirrels and food and he looked up with an indignant expression on his face. The thump was followed by an expletive-filled outburst from the comedian. This translated into printable English as:

‘Who do you think you're talking to, you little worm? Now that Jerome's gone, I'm the most senior person here so if I say that's what we do, then that's what we do.' I was impressed that he managed to include the F-word no fewer than five times in these two short sentences. No mean feat.

The ‘little worm' in question was Doug Kingsley, the young comic, and he looked equally furious as he jumped to his feet and picked up his half-full glass of red wine. He fixed Grey with a malevolent stare and, when he spoke, his voice was filled with venom.

‘For feck's sake, Martin, who do you think you are? Just because you treat that poor wife of yours like dirt, doesn't mean you can do it to me. You're going to apologise to me right now, I mean it, this very minute, or I won't be responsible for my actions.'

A more uncertain look crossed Martin Grey's face as his eyes focused on the red wine while his hand reached up in a protective gesture towards the little crocodile on his immaculate sky-blue polo shirt. There was a tense standoff for about fifteen or twenty seconds before he replied in a more reasonable voice.

‘There's no need for violence, Douggie. I was simply saying that you have no authority over me.'

The glass of red wine drew a couple of inches closer to Grey's face. ‘That doesn't sound like an apology to me, Martin. I'll count to three and then first it's the wine, then it'll be the glass, and then it'll be my fist. One… two…'

‘All right, all right, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have used that language. Abject apologies and all that sort of thing.'

The insincerity and the sarcasm in his voice was clear to everybody and for a moment, I had a feeling he was going to get a face full of red wine anyway but, finally, Doug Kingsley set the glass down, turned dismissively and headed off down the stairs towards the sun deck. I glanced sideways at Susie, who was looking quite unmoved by the scene, and lowered my voice. ‘Is that sort of thing a common occurrence?'

She threw me a little smile and nodded. ‘With Martin, yes. I had to empty a plate of vindaloo into his lap a few months back. He can be an unbearable little oik and of course, now that Jerome's died, he thinks he's God Almighty.'

So what had the ‘unbearable little oik' been doing with his hand on her thigh? Deciding not to pursue that line of enquiry for now, I concentrated on company matters. ‘Is it true that he's the most senior person here? Is he going to take Van der Groot's place?'

She shook her head vehemently. ‘Of course he's not. He's just an employee like the rest of us, even if he has been with the company a bit longer than most. There are two or three people here who've been in the company longer than him and occupy more responsible positions, like Edgar for instance. He's the head of Accounts but he's also Company Secretary and generally acknowledged as Jerome's number two. Let's face it, Martin's just a comedian. He's like me and what do we do?' A more cynical note entered her voice. ‘We say silly things and we try to make people laugh. It's not exactly rocket science. Martin's not a director or a producer and he's certainly not a manager. He might think he's God's gift, but he's the only one who does. There's no way he could get himself into a senior managerial position even if it was offered to him; first, he couldn't organise a piss-up in a brewery and, second, he's even more detested by most people than Jerome was.'

I had already pretty much worked that out for myself but I queried it with her anyway. ‘Van der Groot wasn't popular, then?'

This time, a far more serious expression appeared on her face. ‘Popular? You must be joking! Jerome was a slimy toad. You couldn't believe a single thing he said. He treated everybody – from the cleaners to the producers – appallingly and, to make matters worse, he had final say on all major decision-making and he made mistake after mistake, so the result is that the company's now in deep financial trouble.'

I sat there for a few moments and digested that information. Why on earth, if the company risked insolvency, had Van der Groot taken the decision to spend probably as much as a hundred thousand pounds on a two-week luxury cruise for everybody? It made little sense. I had no doubt that the people around me were well paid and stood to lose a lot if the company collapsed so, if Van der Groot had been running the company into the ground, had somebody maybe decided to get rid of him permanently in order to save GreyratTV and their livelihoods? Murder was certainly a far more radical solution than a vote of no confidence at a board meeting, but after this little scene, it was clear that tempers were running high among the GreyratTV staff.

This fracas seemed to be the sign for everybody to get up from the table and start leaving the room. I shook hands with a few people and thanked Susie for her company – she dropped to her knees and gave Oscar a warm send-off before he and I followed Tamsin and Anna back down to the launch. When we reached the watersports deck, there was nobody around, and Tamsin stopped to apologise for the scene we'd just witnessed and to pass on a bit more useful information.

‘I'm sorry about Martin. He's been getting worse and worse recently. Just because he's the public face of the company – along with Susie and the others, of course – he thinks that gives him the right to throw his weight around. On Saturday night, he was getting quite impossible and Jerome called him out right in front of everybody and gave him a real stripping-down. I've never seen Jerome so furious and I've never seen Martin so angry in his turn. I really thought they were going to start physically attacking each other at one point.'

This certainly was significant. Could it be that Martin Grey had decided to take his revenge on his boss in such a radical way? But, from what I'd just seen and heard, Martin Grey wasn't the only person with a short fuse. Doug Kingsley had sounded quite vicious in his altercation with Grey and I had a feeling that if he and Jerome Van der Groot had crossed swords, the comic with the earrings might have resorted to violence. Seeing as Tamsin was in talkative mood, I glanced around to check that we weren't being overheard and then asked her a question that had been preying on my mind.

‘Could I ask why Martin Grey called Susie a slut? Was that just a random insult or is he basing that on something linked to her behaviour perhaps?'

I noticed that Tamsin also took a surreptitious look around before answering. ‘No, of course not, although she's no saint. As far as Martin's concerned, it all stems from his narcissism. For ages now, he's been peddling a rumour – quite unfounded, I'm sure – that the only reason Susie has done so well in the company is because she's been sleeping with the boss.' I saw her exchange glances with Anna. ‘You never met Jerome, did you? But, believe me, he wasn't the sort of man that any woman with an ounce of self-respect would consider as a bedfellow.' I saw her actually shudder. ‘Like I say, Martin always has to be top dog, and it's pretty clear to me, and I'm sure it was clear to everybody including Jerome, that Susie can run rings around Martin in terms of professionalism, public popularity and just plain intelligence. And, deep down, I'm sure Martin knows it's true, but this just makes him more and more sour towards her. Hence the insults.'

Anna was looking surprised. ‘And yet the two of them can appear side by side on TV and you'd think they were the very best of friends.'

Tamsin gave her a wry smile. ‘What happens in front of the camera and what happens away from it are two very different things.'

This reminded me that half the people on this boat were actors. I'd met quite a few talented actors in my time – not in a comedic but in a criminal sense – and I knew that an innocent smile often concealed hidden guilt. Yes, Martin Grey and Doug Kingsley might appear to be rude and argumentative, but could it be that other less aggressive members of the GreyratTV staff were skilfully concealing hidden depths? If there was a murderer here on board the Regal Princess , his or her identity was far from clear.