The gale force winds died down overnight and by the time Polly made her way along the harbour towards the boatyard Thursday morning, the sun was shining and things were getting back to normal.
To her surprise the big wooden doors were still shut and padlocked. There was some sort of commotion going on down towards the slipway and Polly could see Ben waving his arms angrily. Jack Pettyjohn was standing to one side watching — a curiously triumphant smirk on his face.
A police car, its blue light still flashing, was parked askew across the road blocking any further traffic while two police officers tried to calm Ben down.
“Ben, you’re overreacting. Calm down,” one of them said. “Otherwise I shall have to arrest you for disturbing the peace and I really don’t want to do that.”
Ben glared at him. “You know as well as me, there’s others here a darn sight more guilty than me. Arrest them,” and he jerked his head in the direction of Jack Pettyjohn. “I want to know where my son is. You sure you haven’t got him in a cell somewhere on trumped up charges again?”
The policeman shook his head. “We were hoping you’d be able to tell us where Will is.” He turned his head away as his radio crackled into life and listened intently.
Polly touched Ben on the shoulder. “What’s going on?”
Ben sighed. “Wish I knew, Polly. Apparently Black Sam has gone missing overnight. Jack Pettyjohn here has told the police that Will threatened them both recently when they had a row so now the police have turned up here wanting to question Will. Trouble is he’s disappeared too. The last time I spoke to him was late last night after we’d been upriver to sort out a broken mooring. He was planning on staying on the workboat.”
“You’ve been over to the barge?” Polly asked.
Ben nodded. “Yes. No sign of him. And that’s another thing. I had to go over in the dinghy — the workboat is missing from its mooring.” Ben looked at the empty space where the thirty-foot boat with its wheelhouse, heavy-duty winches and generator was usually moored.
“Could Will have had an emergency call from someone and taken the boat upriver to help? Or maybe a fishing boat along the coast needed help after the storm?” Polly asked.
“When that happens he always phones. Either to ask me to go along with him, or simply to let me know where and what he’s up to. Unwritten rule of the boatyard. You never take chances with the river or the sea.” Ben shook his head in despair. “I don’t know what to think.”
The policeman turned his attention back to Ben. “Coastguards have identified your workboat heading up channel. Unidentified person at the helm but would appear to be male. Not known whether there are any other persons on board. They’ll keep us informed when they have any information.”
Ben’s shoulders sagged. “What the hell is Will up to?”
“Trying to run from the law?” Jack Pettyjohn suggested with a sneer.
Ben made to lunge at him but the burly policeman quickly stood in the way. “That won’t solve anything, Ben. Another couple of hours and we should have some answers. In the meantime I suggest—” He stopped speaking as a gasp from Polly caught his attention. “What is it?”
Polly pointed to the far end of the slipway where the incoming tide was swirling branches, boxes, leaves and other debris from the storm up against the wall.
“There’s a body down there.”
Within seconds of Polly’s words, the police had sprung into action. Ben, starting to go down the slipway, was forcibly stopped by the policeman who knew him.
“Sorry, Ben, it’s down to us now. Why don’t you go back to the yard and wait?” Turning away, the policeman spoke urgently into his radio asking for immediate assistance.
“I’m staying put,” Ben said. “It’s my slipway.”
He glanced across at Polly. “Would you go and find Angie please? Ask her to stay with Lillian just in case… just in case there’s bad news.”
“Of course,” Polly said, her heart racing. It couldn’t possibly be Will floating face down in the rubbish as Ben clearly thought it might be. Or could it? Either way she didn’t want to be here when the body was pulled out of the water.
Her mobile rang as she walked past the boatyard on her way to The Captain’s Berth. Daniel Franklyn.
“Morning, Polly. Can you organise a meeting with the Robertsons for me tomorrow? At, say, half three at the boatyard? I’ve asked the lawyers to draw up the legal agreement for then. Can you collect it and have it ready for the meeting? Need you to be there too for notes and things.”
“You’ll be here tomorrow?” Polly said surprised. So she would get to meet her employer after all. “I didn’t realise you were planning to come here so soon.” She paused.
“Daniel, things have changed overnight. There’s a major crisis going on here at the moment. I’m not sure the Robertsons are going to want a meeting with you tomorrow — or even be available for one.” Would Will have turned up by then? She was loath to tell Daniel Franklyn that one of his new business partners was missing, currently believed to be on the run from the police.
“What sort of crisis?”
“The police are about to fish a body out of the harbour.”
“Someone local?”
“Not identified yet,” Polly said, not wanting to voice the fear that it could be Will.
There was a short silence before Daniel said, “That’s sad, but let’s presume it’s not going to turn out to be one of the Robertsons and arrange the meeting anyway, Polly. Business has to continue and I need to get signatures on paper. If the worst has happened…” Daniel paused. “We can always cancel the meeting.”
“OK,” Polly said wearily. “I’ll try.” She closed her phone and prayed that Daniel was right in his assumption that it wasn’t a Robertson body that had washed up on the slipway. She felt sick at the thought of it being Will.
Angie was in the kitchen when Polly reached the B&B. “I’ll get Lillian and meet you back at the yard,” she said briskly, grabbing a jacket from the hook when Polly explained what was happening. “Solo and Rosie can stay here.”
Ten minutes later and the three of them were in the boatyard office with a despondent Lillian slumped on her office chair.
“Shall I make us some coffee?” Polly asked, desperate to do something. Anything to stop the dreadful thoughts about Will being dead. If she was finding the situation difficult, how much harder it must be for Lillian. Before anyone answered her, the ship-to-shore radio on the shelf crackled unexpectedly into life.
Lillian jumped up and flicked a switch. “Will? Thank God it’s you.”
“Mum, is Dad with you?”
“No. What the hell is going on, Will? What are you doing out in the channel with the workboat?”
“You’ll see when I get back to harbour. In the meantime go and find Dad. Both of you need to be out on the quay in about half an hour. You won’t believe what’s happened. I’ll need to talk to the police later. I’ve got some information for them.”
“The police are keen to talk to you now,” Lillian said. “According to them you’re in all sorts of trouble.”
“Mum, don’t worry — I haven’t done anything wrong. You and Dad are in for a big surprise but everything is fine.”
“Will, a body has been found off the slipway,” Lillian said quietly. “You know anything about that?”
The radio crackled and died. Frustratedly Lillian wriggled the switch up and down. Nothing. “Blast.”
“Shall I go and find Ben for you?” Polly asked but before Lillian had a chance to answer, Ben himself walked in.
“They’ve taken the body off for official identification and to do a postmortem.
It was Angie who voiced the question they all dreaded asking. “Well, we know it’s not Will but is it anyone we know?”
“Black Sam,” Ben said.
“Poor man,” Lillian said. “I know he was working for Jack Pettyjohn but it’s still sad when someone dies.”
There was a couple of seconds’ silence before Ben asked, “Will’s been in touch then?”
Lillian nodded. “He wants us both out on the quay in about half an hour for when he arrives back in the harbour.”
“Why?”
Lillian shrugged. “Maybe he wants to tell us something urgently?”
“Fat chance of us talking to him then. The police are waiting down there for him. They’ll nab him the minute he steps ashore.”
The three women looked at him. “He’s the prime suspect in case Black Sam was killed,” Ben said quietly. “The police are waiting to arrest him. They want to question him about the last time he saw Black Sam.”
They all turned as the office door opened and a policeman looked in to ask, “Jack Pettyjohn in here? No? Wonder where’s got to.” The door closed.
“So did you and Will keep watch last night as planned?” Polly asked, trying to piece together the events of the previous evening.
“Will did,” Ben said. “I came ashore and left him settling in on the workboat. He was convinced for some reason that Pettyjohn was planning on using the bad weather to his advantage. Will was determined to try and get enough evidence to stop him once and for all.” Ben shook his head. “I just don’t know what to think. The coastguards say no one contacted them asking for assistance after the storm so…” He shrugged. ‘What the hell he’s doing out in the channel is anyone’s guess.”
“He said earlier you and I were in for a surprise,” Lillian said.
“Surprise as in him being locked up?” Ben said.
Polly shook her head. “I’m sure Will doesn’t have anything to do with Black Sam’s death. He’s…he’s just not the sort.”
Ben looked at her. “I hope and pray you’re right.” Polly flushed. She was defending Will to his own father but even though she’d known Will such a short time she knew instinctively it was true. She’d trust him with her life.
“Think we should go and wait on the quay,” Angie said looking at her watch. “Will did say half an hour.”
Ben grabbed the large pair of binoculars off the shelf as they left and locked the office door behind them.
Outside, a lone policeman was sitting in a patrol car, watching the harbour entrance. A cold wind was blowing, ruffling the water and making boats jangle around on their moorings. Polly shivered as she looked out to sea, willing Will to appear.
A strained ten minutes passed as everyone stood deep in their own thoughts, staring out to sea.
“Here he comes,” Ben said, the binoculars finally alighting on the workboat riding the waves as it made its way to the harbour entrance.
“Good grief! I don’t believe what I’m seeing,” he said, his body rigid with shock.
“What is it, Ben? Can you see Will? Let me look,” and Lillian grabbed the binoculars off him.
“Will was right about a surprise. Look at the yacht following him in on the starboard side.”
“Oh my goodness.” Thirty seconds later Lillian lowered the glasses and looked at Ben.
“Is it really what I think it is?”
Ben nodded, a happy smile on his face. “Yes it really is the Mary-Jane sailing into her home port.”
As Ben had predicted, the moment Will stepped ashore, he was whisked away to ‘assist the police with their enquiries’.
“Don’t worry, Mum,” he said to Lillian as he got in the police car. “I’ll be back soon and explain everything.”
After watching their son being driven away, Ben put his arm around Lillian’s shoulders. “There’s nothing we can do for now. Best thing for us is to get to work as usual. Take our mind off things.”