‘Theodor Lamar? Civil engineer, built rollercoasters for amusement parks around the world. Died prematurely of cancer three years ago. You don’t have to worry that he’s hiding on your boat with a cleaver.’

‘How do we know all this?’

Martin recalled an extraordinary case in which a man with memory loss, who’d been declared dead years earlier, had been arrested at the scene of a murder.

‘Because there was a forensic post-mortem examination,’ Diesel said. ‘Requested by the paternal grandfather, Justin Lamar. He was intending to sue the hospital because his son Theo had behaved strangely after the cancer operation.’

‘Strangely?’

‘He wasn’t breathing any more.’

‘Malpractice?’

‘According to Grandpa Lamar, yes. But I wouldn’t set too much store by his statement.’

‘Why not?’

Diesel sighed. ‘The grandfather’s got a screw loose. Officially he lives in an old people’s home, but it would be more accurate to describe it as a pensioners’ loony bin. There are regular protests by local residents because for some unfathomable reason that straitlaced lot in their fancy neighbourhood don’t want crazed coffin-dodgers sitting stark naked on the swings in their front gardens, which apparently happens all the time. Justin is less of an exhibitionist. His party trick is ringing the police.’

Martin had reached the top of the stairs and was checking out the display windows from the balustrade corridor.

Gucci, Cartier, Burberry, Louis Vuitton, Chanel.

The prices resulted in substantially fewer passengers on this level. Not even a dozen guests were wandering along the dark-red carpet. A family of three with a pram, two veiled women, a few staff members. He turned right to the corridor that led to the Sultan’s very own on-board planetarium. ‘Anouk’s grandfather rang the police?’ he asked Diesel.

‘On several occasions. The Annapolis Sentinel, a free local rag, ran a report on it. Shortly after Anouk and Naomi disappeared, Grandpa Justin called them to say they could abandon their search for his granddaughter. He’d chatted to her for half an hour on the phone, he claimed. She’d sounded jolly and was fine.’

‘Yeah, right.’

Jolly.

Martin couldn’t help think of the horrific injuries Anouk had sustained. Her dead eyes, the expression of her shredded soul. Even if the culprit had forced her to make the call (for whatever perverse reason) there’s no way the girl could have sounded jolly, and certainly not for half an hour.

‘Anouk’s grandfather seems to be a very special person,’ he said, thinking of Gerlinde. What a great pair the two of them would make.