Murder out of the Blue by Steve Turnbull

Author:Steve Turnbull [Turnbull, Steve]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tau Press Ltd
Published: 2014-01-09T23:00:00+00:00

iii

The captain’s day cabin was equipped with various tables, chairs and desks; there was a wide sofa along one wall over which hung photographs of various ships of the Royal Navy. There were no windows. Captain Jones stood at ease behind his desk as the steward pushed open the door from the companionway with his elbow and then backed in, pulling the general in his wheelchair. As the door swung back, the steward turned the general round and pushed him into position opposite the captain.

The captain moved round the desk and shook the general’s hand. The man looked grey and feeble, as if all the blood had been drained from him. His hand was cold, and it was like clasping a withered leaf. The old soldier put no effort into the formality. Captain Jones nodded at the steward and the man left.

It was a very awkward situation, thought the captain as he took his seat opposite the man. It was hard to think that this was the same irritating gentleman that had come aboard four days earlier.

“Would you like a drink, General?” The general shook his head, staring at the desk in front of him, but the captain was certain the man saw only his inner thoughts. “A cigar?”

“Say what you must say.”

The question on the captain’s mind was not one he could say outright. It was the kind of question that must be approached sideways. There were easier questions.

“I must, of course, ask about the death of your nurse.”

The general did not respond.

“When did you see Lochana Modi last?”

The general took a deep breath. “It was in the afternoon between three and four o’clock.” He finally looked up and met the captain’s eye. “I did not kill Lochana, Captain.”

“The ship’s doctor says she died in the evening, most likely, but he was unable to specify the time with any degree of precision.”

“The last time we spoke was in the afternoon.”

“Can you tell me the nature of the discussion you had?”

“I do not recall,” he said. “Do you have a nip of whiskey?”

The captain took a few moments to pour a drink from his private stock. It was a decent single malt. General Makepeace-Flynn took the glass and cradled it for a few moments before taking a sip. The captain resumed his seat and leaned forward across the desk.

“There is a steward who was on duty at that time who will swear that you spoke with raised voices.”

“Yes, all right. I was angry with the amount of time Lochana was spending in the company of Miss Williams.”

“Miss Williams?”

“Some Welsh missionary travelling first class, if you please. Full of zeal which she decided to expend on my nurse.”

The emotion he expected from the man was creeping back.

“So if you did not kill your nurse, General, who did?”

“I don’t know! And let me tell you that if I did then I would be doing your job for you and that person would pay!”

“She’s just a nurse, General. Just a native.”

“You, sir, are

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