Free All Quiet on Arrival by Graham Ison Page A

What’s it all about?’ Morgan took us into the front room of the house.
    Once there, I introduced Dave and me, and explained that we were from Scotland Yard.
    â€˜I’m investigating the murder of a Mrs Diana Barton last Saturday in Chelsea.’
    â€˜Who? I’ve never heard of a Diana Barton. And I’ve never been to Chelsea. In fact, I never go to London. Are you sure I’m the bloke you want to talk to?’
    I was certain we had got the right man, but didn’t bother to say as much.
    â€˜I understand that you were a steward on the same cruise liner as Tom Hendry.’
    â€˜Yes, that’s right. Look, what’s this all about?’
    â€˜Bear with me, Mr Morgan,’ I said. ‘Were you aware that he was dismissed in early February?’
    â€˜Yes, it was the day we docked here at Southampton. He was stupid enough to have sex with a woman passenger. He was always doing it, but on this occasion her husband complained, and the skipper put Hendry ashore. Permanently.’
    An elderly grey-haired woman entered the room. ‘What is it, Carl?’ She stared suspiciously at Dave and me as we stood up. ‘Who are these people, son?’
    â€˜They’re police officers from London, Ma. They want to talk to me about a murder up there.’ Morgan glanced at me. ‘This is my mother,’ he explained.
    â€˜A murder? You don’t know anything about a murder, do you, son?’ asked his mother, as she sat down on a sofa beside him. She glared at the two of us.
    â€˜No, Ma.’
    I gave Morgan the brief details of the murder, and told him that when officers called at the house in Tavona Street, the man who answered the door gave the name of Carl Morgan. ‘But,’ I said, ‘I can see that you’re not him.’
    â€˜I’ll bet that was Hendry,’ said Morgan, clearly annoyed. ‘It was the best thing the company did when they got shot of him. He was always in trouble.’
    â€˜Really? What sort of trouble?’
    â€˜Fiddling, mainly. For example, he’d nick a bottle of champagne from the bar, keep it and then put it on a passenger’s bill. All the passengers were given company credit cards at the start of the voyage. Most of them never bothered to check their account at the end of the cruise, and settled up. Or if they queried the champagne, the purser would just knock it off.’
    â€˜Is that all?’ asked Dave.
    â€˜No way,’ said Morgan. ‘For a while, Hendry doubled as a cocktail steward in the Coconut Bar, but he was fiddling passengers’ chits there, too. Usually by bunging a few tots on the bill of a passenger who was three sheets to the wind. But the purser could never prove it, and when he spoke to the passengers they always said they couldn’t remember how much they’d had to drink the night before. It was only simple stuff, like putting an extra tot of spirits – whisky, brandy, gin or vodka – on the chit. But it all added up, and when Hendry had fiddled enough tots to make up a bottle – that’s twenty-six tots – he’d have a bottle away from the store. Anyway, the purser banned him from bar duty just the same. He was pretty switched on, was the purser.’
    â€˜How d’you know all this?’ asked Dave.
    â€˜There are a lot of fiddles going on, and being a steward you don’t miss much, believe me. But I never did it,’ added Morgan, keen to distance himself from Hendry’s nefarious activities. ‘It wasn’t worth getting the sack for the sake of a few quid. Anyway, if you looked after the first-class passengers, they always gave you a good tip at the end of the cruise. Some of them even bunged you each time you served them.’
    â€˜Where were you last Saturday night, Mr Morgan?’ I asked. ‘And last night?’ Despite his protestations of innocence, I still wanted to make certain that Morgan was telling us the