Jade Monkey

The ships hull was a dirty red that was matched by a yellowing white superstructure pocked with spots of rust. Barely legible white letters spelt out the name ‘Conquistador’. As I stepped onto the gangplank black paint flaked off and fell into the water below. Somehow it seemed out of place, after seeing the renovation of the rest of the docks, the freighter was a throwback to shady past that hadn’t quite faded. Even as I stepped onto the deck my impression of the place didn’t change. The cargo hoists that the movers had used were tidily stowed, but everywhere else on deck was crowded with rusting equipment that I didn’t recognize and tangled piles of ropes that had seen better decades let alone better days.

I picked my way carefully across the deck, taking quick glances at the bridge. Hannah whispered something behind me that I didn’t quite catch. I turned to face her. Keeping my eye on the closet door to the ship’s interior. ‘What was that?’ I hissed.

‘I said it doesn’t look like anyone’s here.’

‘I know. It’s almost perfect isn’t it? I nearly fell for it too. The hoists gave it away though.’

She looked at them thoughtfully for a moment. ‘They’re in good condition.’

‘Yes.’ I grinned. ‘Carry on like this and I’ll buy you a Fedora. It gives the game away really. This whole thing’s a mock up. Would you think anyone in their right mind would try to escape from town in a bucket like this? I think as soon as we get below we’re going to find that rest of the ship is in fairly good shape.’

She grimaced. ‘I think you’re giving him too much credit.’

I nodded. ‘Maybe. So who came up with it for him?’

‘Then who…?’

‘Right.’ I said and moved towards the door.

I ducked through a bulkhead into a dimly lit corridor. A metal stairway by my side I guessed led up to the bridge. An open door showed rack of modern radio equipment. I paused, listening intently before moving on. Lacking security precautions was one thing; the ship being completely deserted was another. Even considering that this wasn’t a large ship I guessed you’d need a crew of six or so people. Where were they? As if on cue a large door swung closed ahead of us with a loud clang sending my hand to my pocket.

I relaxed gradually as nobody started shouting, shooting or otherwise making my life uncomfortable. Hannah had flowed into a shooting stance, the .45 held in both hands, her eyes locked on the door. I glanced either way down the corridor and gestured to her to lower the gun. I took a step forward and put my hand to the painted metal of the door. It opened slowly; it had closed but not locked. A little brass plaque on the wall proclaimed it to be the captain’s cabin. I nodded and gently pushed the door open.

The captain’s cabin was smaller than I had thought, it was made even smaller by the crowd of artifacts, antiquities and unidentifiable pieces of junk that were scattered around the room. Even the small bed was covered with bric-a-brac. Light came through a small porthole in the rear. Scary Anthony himself was sat slumped at a heavy metal desk that was almost buried under manila coloured sheets of paper. He was shorter than me, perhaps 5’6, 5’5 with short dark hair. Cheap black shoes stuck out from underneath faded blue work trousers, and in the middle of his dark blue anorak a black knife hilt stood from his back.

Thoughts and suspicions warred for my attention. Why leave the knife? So much for checking him out for Red Mark. Was this an attempt to pin a murder on me? Was DI Boura waiting patiently at the gangplank with a pair of handcuffs? I took a deep breath and tried to set speculation aside. Scary Anthony was dead; someone had stabbed him from behind. He was sprawled over the desk, his arms spread wide, his head resting on the paperwork. There was no evidence of a struggle. Either he hadn’t heard them coming or it was someone he knew. There was only one stab wound, so someone who knew what they were doing, it was deep, so someone strong. My intuition drew a bright line between strong, and the physique of the late Mr Charles’. I paused in my assessment of the body. How long had he been dead? I guessed one day, maybe two. The timing just about worked out. What didn’t work out was the ‘Why?’

I pulled my focus back from Scary Anthony and looked around the room. Hannah was looking over various artefacts and muttering furiously under her breath. From the rhythm I guessed it wasn’t too complimentary about the deceased.

‘Anything?’ I asked.

‘Some of these were definitely taken from the museum. All the rest of this should be in the museum too.’ She paused. ‘Detect anything?’

‘A little. I’ve one suspect. He’s around six foot tall, and resembles a rather obnoxious gorilla and was last seen wearing a tuxedo.’

‘Mr Charles.’

‘Yeah.’

‘You missed out the arrogant smirk and single figure IQ.’

‘I didn’t know him that well.’

‘You’re lucky. Why do you think it was him?’

‘Stabbing him like that took a lot of strength, and it was someone he knew. I’ve no proof, but my suspicion is that someone is tying up his or her loose ends. I’m guessing our friend was the Mayor’s cat’s-paw.’

‘That makes no sense’ Hannah interrupted. ‘Why kill Scary Anthony after the Mayor’s been killed. There’s nothing in it for him, his boss is dead and believe me Mr Charles wasn’t strong on loyalty to anything other than cash.’

‘Ah.’ Pieces began to slot together in my mind.

‘Ah what?’

‘He was bought.’

Mr Charles.’

‘Yes. Someone got him to leave the Mayor alone so he could be killed. Mr Charles probably didn’t expect them to go that far. Suddenly its all gone wrong and he’s a murder suspect. He’s got leverage on Scary Anthony because he knows he’s stolen the Jade. He comes here to lay low. But Scary Anthony sees an opportunity here to soothe some egos and give Red Mark a ready made fall guy to get the police off his back.’

‘Oh he’d love that’

‘Yes, but deduction only gets us so far. There are some pretty strong motives then for Mr Charles to kill Scary Anthony.’ I sighed. ‘Not least of which is theft.’

‘What?’

‘Scary Anthony had the Jade. I doubt he’s taken it where he’s gone, so Mr Charles took it and hid it and went to your house.’

‘Why?’

‘I don’t know. I’m a detective not a medium.’

‘You seem to be doing a good job so far.’

I smiled grimly. ‘It mostly holds together. But I’m missing things. There’s a lot that doesn’t make sense.’ An image of the Mayors trench coat clad murderer flashed across my mind nagging at me.

‘So everyone else on the ship found that their boss was dead and ran. But they left the artefacts behind?’

‘Thugs have no taste. Plus, if you thought that someone has decided to kick off a gang war would you hang around?’

‘Perhaps not then. And the knife?’

‘Scary Anthony probably had a gun here. Mr Charles took that and felt he didn’t need the knife any more.’

‘So where’s the Jade now?’

‘I don’t know.’ I looked down at the floor for a moment before speaking again. ‘Come on, you can report to this to the museum or the police, whichever. I need to report back to Miss Michelle.’

We left as quietly as we had come, leaving the not so decayed ‘Conquistador’ behind us. I strode alone to where Hannah had parked the car earlier as she called the murder in anonymously to the police. Sitting on the bonnet I noticed that she’d got a parking ticket. Some days just don’t seem to have anything good happen in them. I turned it over to see what the damage was. It wasn’t a ticket; it was an envelope, addressed to me.