The Silent Sleep of the Dying (Eisenmenger-Flemming Forensic Mysteries) by Keith McCarthy

Author:Keith McCarthy
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Endeavour Press
Published: 2015-12-20T00:00:00+00:00

Part Five

The man who owned the fishing smack was enjoying himself. Eisenmenger wasn't. Far from it. His stomach muscles were telling him to stop vomiting, his throat was wondering why all the traffic was suddenly going the wrong way, and his brain had decided that hell was a concoction of ozone, diesel oil, darkness, water and fish. He stood huddled at the back of the small, paint-flaking cabin, trying to ignore the lack of attention so assiduously applied by Helena and their captain.

Helena, whose only inconvenience was unsteadiness of her feet in the rolling sea, looked back, caught his eye, and came to join him. The cabin was poorly lit, and perhaps that was why she didn't try to hide her grin, but Eisenmenger had the suspicion there was more to it than that.

"Are you feeling better?"

He tried to give her a confident smile but somewhere between his cerebral cortex and his facial musculature, the nerve impulses went astray. Any movement of his skin seemed stiff, while any movement of his head produced vertigo. In the end, he satisfied himself with a necessarily curt, "What do you think?"

The grin didn't diminish, despite the fact that the boat hit a particularly solid wave, causing her to stagger slightly. Behind her their captain was peering into spray-filled night.

"Who'd have thought it?" she asked of no one and everyone. "That you should suffer from seasickness."

"Amazing," he agreed.

They had arrived at Ullapool only four hours before. Their plan had been to spend the night at the hotel, then cross to Morrister, the only town on Rouna, the following day. There was a regular ferry service, but it was more likely that they would have to find private passage. As soon as they had arrived it became clear that they could not afford to wait, however. The low pressure that had been with them over the second half of their journey had abated slightly, but a storm was coming. If they did not cross that night, the forecast suggested that they would not reach Rouna for at least two days.

Market economics had come into play. After following the advice of the hotel staff, they had gone to one of the local bars, thence directed to what was termed a restaurant, was in reality more of a cafe. In this place of grimy wooden panelling, dimness and dilapidation they found their man; their man if they paid him three hundred, one-way. More than slightly shocked by this demand, made without shame or even guile, Helena and Eisenmenger had hesitated but, as was pointed out to them, nobody else would go out that night, not for any money. It was only the fact that Helena had thought to visit a cash dispenser in Carlisle that meant they were in any position to take advantage of this generous offer. Thus they employed one Frankie Munro, owner and operator of the Ocean Beauty — a description that might once have been accurate but which was now merely wishful —

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