Dead Calm (A Dylan Scott Mystery) (13 page)

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Authors: Shirley Wells

BOOK: Dead Calm (A Dylan Scott Mystery)

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Chapter Twenty-Five

Dylan was dreaming. Two leggy Norwegian blondes had been about to grant him three wishes. The dream was slipping from his grasp and he tried to cling to it as wakefulness insisted on greeting him.

“Dylan, wake up!”

He opened his eyes and managed to suppress a groan as Bev’s face took away the last remnants of the hot Norwegian sex goddesses. The ship’s horn gave a blast.

“Quick,” Bev said. “The northern lights.”

He hadn’t slept for God alone knew how long, he’d been on the brink of being abused by the most gorgeous creatures his subconscious could dream up, and the sodding aurora borealis had decided to put in an appearance. Great.

He sat up, grudgingly, and watched in amazement as she dragged Freya from her bed.

“What are you doing? Leave her to sleep. She’ll be okay for a few minutes.”

Bev looked at him as if mentally questioning his sanity. “She wants to see them too.”

Oh, for—the kid wasn’t even a year old. She would have no memory of this night whatsoever.

“I’ve phoned your mum and Luke,” Bev said. “They’re going on deck to see them. But just look!”

Dylan was pulling on a pair of jeans, but he stopped as she opened the door to the balcony of their new cabin. The sky, on a good night dotted with trillions of stars, was awash with colour. Every shade of green and yellow that Dylan could imagine swirled above them. It was as if the planet had paused to watch the dancing lights.

“Just look at it,” Bev said, her voice a whisper. She shifted Freya in her arms so their daughter could see the sky.

People were laughing and cheering up on the deck. This was what most of them had come for, and even Dylan had to admit it was worth it. It was spectacular.

“Let’s go and join everyone outside,” Bev said.

“The show will be over by the time we get there.”

“Not if we’re quick. Come on.”

They grabbed coats and ran along the corridor to the stairs that led up to the deck.

“Just look,” Bev said again.

Dylan was powerless to do anything else. It was like nothing he’d ever seen. Never before had he been so in awe of nature or felt so small and insignificant in the grand scheme of things.

They walked on, their eyes never leaving the sky, to join the other passengers on the deck.

His mother and Luke found them. Luke was taking photos but no camera could hope to capture the dazzling lights as they performed.

“Let’s get everyone in a group,” Luke said, “and we’ll have proof that we’ve seen the northern lights.”

Bill Carr came across. “Let me,” he said.

Luke handed over his camera and they stood in a group. Bev held Freya, his mother stood on one side and Luke on the other. Dylan stood behind them, his arms across their shoulders.

Click. Another click. Carr peered at the small screen, presumably making sure he hadn’t chopped off legs and feet. Another click.

“There you go.” Carr returned the camera to Luke. “What wonderful memories you’ll have.”

Carr stepped aside and gestured for Dylan to join him. “I’m sorry if you thought—well, if there was some confusion. It’s just that with Adam acting as Hanna Larsen’s lawyer, I didn’t like to say too much. Maud and I were put in a very difficult position. Confidentiality, you see.”

“It’s not important.” Dylan gazed up at the sky. “Go and enjoy the show with Maud.”

Hanna Larsen was dead, but Dylan wasn’t going to lose sleep over that. Far more important was that no other lives had been lost. When he stopped to think—

An arm was slipped through his, and Dylan turned to smile at Ruby. In this light, her facial injuries didn’t look too bad. “You’re supposed to be resting, Ruby.”

“And miss the lights?” she said. “No chance.”

They stood in silence for a few moments, their arms linked.

“What do you do for someone who’s saved your life?” she asked after a while.

“You live long and happy.” He gazed at the bandage covering the gash on her head. “And you thank the gods the idiot didn’t kill you in the process.”

She smiled again, but it was a sad smile. It would take her—take anyone—a long time to come to terms with the fact that her own daughter wanted her dead. It was the utmost betrayal of a mother’s love. She was a strong, independent woman though. She would survive. She would move on.

“Laura’s been arrested, you know,” she said.

Dylan nodded. Melgarde had told him.

“I always thought she was happy,” Ruby said. “I thought she was content with her lot. It’s not as if she wanted for anything. She’s comfortably off. And him—” She pulled the face she now reserved for Mike Lloyd. “He was hoping to get a million pounds. That’s all. Just a million pounds for ending someone’s life.”

She spoke as if it was nothing.

“People have been killed for a lot less,” he said.

She shrugged that off. “I was telling him that I’d finally remembered where I’d seen him.”

Dylan patted her hand. “I know.”

“It was only a brief glimpse and it’s more than six months ago now. I’d gone to visit Laura and he was leaving as I arrived. We weren’t even introduced or anything. There must have been something about him though for his face to stick in my memory. We were standing over there—” She pointed to the exact spot where Dylan had knocked her to the ground. “I told him I’d seen him before and he said I wouldn’t be seeing him again. As soon as I hit the water, he said, he was in line for a million pounds.”

She’d told him all this earlier. Perhaps she thought that, if she said it often enough, she would finally believe that her own daughter considered a million pounds money well spent to be rid of her.

“According to Melgarde, he’s been in trouble before,” she said. “Something happened when he was in the army. Nothing was proved but there was a lot of talk.”

Melgarde had told Dylan the same thing. A young army recruit had been badly beaten and left to die. No one was arrested for the crime, but Mike Lloyd had been a suspect.

Melgarde had told Dylan a lot more. Apparently, Lloyd had lied his way to a day ashore in Bodø. He’d claimed a dying relative, saying it would be his last chance to see his grandfather. Of course, there was no grandfather. Instead, a man fitting Lloyd’s description had been seen stealing an old blue car from a car park near the harbour.

“I wonder what he’d have done with the money,” Ruby said. “I wonder if he and Laura—”

She broke off as Jackson joined them.

He looked even more shaken than Ruby if that were possible. He’d never claimed to like his sister, but he was struggling to believe her capable of this.

He looked at Dylan. “I still don’t know how we can thank you.”

“I’ll pay you,” Ruby said, but Dylan shook his head.

“We’ve been through this before. No thanks are necessary. Truly.”

“It puts everything in perspective, doesn’t it?” Jackson said. “Until yesterday, my biggest worry was that I’d be declared bankrupt. That’s no big deal, is it?”

“No.”

“I still can’t believe—”

“Shush,” Ruby silenced him. “We’re leaving the ship and flying home first thing in the morning, Dylan. Meanwhile, we may as well enjoy the lights. We can worry about everything tomorrow.”

The two left him alone and Dylan gazed up at the sky. The lights swirled above him, teasing him. Just when he thought they were dying away and the show was over, they’d swirl across the black sky and dance even more brightly.

Luke came to join him. “You must owe me about twenty quid, Dad.”

“What? How come?”

“You said the F-word at least forty times.”

“Yes, well.” He owed Luke more than twenty pounds. Without his quick thinking, they could all have been dead.

If Dylan had known exactly what he was dealing with, he would have said and done a lot worse. He’d assumed Lloyd had somehow tampered with the electrics in their cabin. When he’d told Luke and Bev to get the hell out, he’d worried about electrocution or a fire. The idea of a bomb had crossed his mind too, but only briefly. He had completely underestimated Lloyd.

“That stuff he put in our cabin,” Luke said. “What would it have done to us?”

“It would have made us feel a bit sick.” As soon as that shower had been switched on, they would have inhaled the toxic fumes and been dead within minutes. He gave Luke’s shoulder a squeeze and thanked every god known that the kid had had the sense to alert him. “And it might have made us cough.”

“I knew there was something odd about him.”

Odd
didn’t even begin to sum up the evil that was Mike Lloyd. If Dylan had suspected for one moment—but he hadn’t. It was the police who’d unearthed reports on Lloyd that told of his experimenting with chemicals. But sarin—Christ! That was chemical warfare at its most deadly.

Lloyd was insane. He’d been kicked out of the army on the strength of psychiatric reports and had vowed vengeance on the world. He’d got involved with Muslim terrorists, not because of their beliefs but because he had a thirst for killing.

Dylan’s one regret was that he hadn’t killed the bloke. He would never forget him though. Lloyd would end up in a mental institution, hopefully one that kept its inmates dressed in straitjackets behind good solid bars, but if the day came when Lloyd was released, Dylan would be waiting for him.

“Hey, champagne,” Luke said. “Can I have some?”

The passengers were in party mood thanks to the appearance of the northern lights. Waiters moved among them with champagne-laden trays. People laughed and cheered. It was a time for celebration.