‘What do you want us to do, Chief Inspector?’ asked Flora, who seemed to have taken over command.

‘With the exception of James, I’d like you all to return to your cabins, and remain there until I’ve had a chance to speak to every one of you. Mr Buchanan, before you go, perhaps you would be kind enough to leave your hip flask on the table.’

Hamish hesitated for a moment before removing the silver flask from an inside pocket and placing it on the table. A smile flickered across his face when he saw the commodore entering the dining room with Franco following a yard behind.

‘Ah,’ he said. ‘The person who has ultimate authority on his own ship. Perhaps you could tell Chief Inspector Warwick that we no longer have any need of his services.’

‘Mr Buchanan is correct to remind you, Chief Inspector, that I am the master of this vessel,’ said the commodore gravely, ‘and that my decision is final.’

‘I accept your authority without question,’ said William.

Hamish picked up the silver flask and put it back in his pocket.

‘With that in mind, Chief Inspector,’ said the commodore, ‘I would be grateful if you felt able to carry out a preliminary investigation. While I have no doubt that you’ll find the chairman died of a heart attack, your confirmation will settle the matter. How would you like to begin your inquiry?’

‘By asking Mr Hamish Buchanan to put his silver hip flask back on the table.’

CHAPTER 5

EX-SUPERINTENDENT LAMONT WAS AT HOME reading the Racing Post when Mr Booth Watson QC’s clerk called to inform him that the head of chambers required his presence at ten o’clock the following morning. It was the first time Booth Watson had been in touch since the police corruption trial at the Old Bailey when Jerry Summers, a Detective Sergeant who’d taken one risk too many, had ended up going down for ten years because Lamont had failed to remove a vital piece of evidence that would have got Summers off. Lamont had rather assumed after that particular balls-up, Booth Watson wouldn’t be requiring his services again. Although he intensely disliked the oleaginous QC, the expression ‘Beggars can’t be choosers’ ensured that he would be on time for the appointment.

During the past few weeks, he’d also done a couple of jobs for Mrs Christina Faulkner, and wondered if Booth Watson might consider that a conflict of interest. After he’d checked his bank balance, he decided not to mention his double-dating to either party. Lamont made sure he was sitting in the waiting room of No. 1 Fetter Court at ten to ten the following morning. He was kept waiting.

When the Head of Chambers eventually called for him, he didn’t mention Summers or the key piece of evidence Lamont should have switched, but got straight to the point.

‘I need to know what your old friend Warwick is up to at the moment.’

‘Warwick’s no friend of mine,’ said Lamont, almost spitting out the words.