The Fish Kisser Read Online Free PDF Page B

audience of curious passengers were hanging about in the shade of the boat, listening to his performance, so the officer tuned his voice to a high pitched whine, sounding like a 1950s BBC radio announcer. “We believe the man should be somewhere in this area …”
    â€œSounds as if someone’s fallen overboard,” relayed one of the passengers to his wife, shielding herself from the gale behind a storage locker.
    â€œI hope we don’t miss our train.”
    â€œHe might drown.”
    â€œThey’ll be ever so disappointed if we’re late for the wedding.”
    â€œLuv, there’s a man missing!”
    â€œI know … but he’s our only son … sometimes I think you don’t care.”
    â€œThe weather’s deteriorating rapidly,” continued the officer, “so we must find him quickly. There’s no description— report anything you see in the water. Any questions?” He paused long enough to scan the group—twenty men in fluorescent sou’westers hunching against the rain and spray, not an ounce of enthusiasm among them.
    â€œQuestions …” he repeated, raising an eyebrow, pausing. “No? Good. We are relying on each and every one of you to do your best.”
    â€œWho does he think he is: Lord Nelson?” whispered a first-class waiter, but heard by many.
    â€œIs there a problem?” shouted the officer in response to the gale of laughter, triggering more laughter.
    â€œO.K., men. Go to your stations.”
    â€œFull of piss and self-importance,” mumbled one of the engine room greasers, unhappy at being dragged from the warmth of the engine room and even more upset to discover his lookout station, on the starboard side, faced directly into the prevailing wind.
    Detective Inspector Bliss, coming out onto the upper deck just as the men were drifting away, was unaware of the search, or its cause, and introduced himself to the deck officer. “D.I. Bliss, Metropolitan Police Serious Crime Squad. Can I help?”
    â€œOh Inspector … Yes. We think there’s a man overboard—perhaps you could help keep watch?”
    Bliss jumped. “Man overboard.” His eyes flashed wide. “Who is it? When was this? What happened?”
    â€œHang on officer, I don’t know, you’d better speak to the captain. Let me just make sure everyone is at their post and I’ll take you along to the bridge.”
    â€œPlease hurry. I think I might know who it is.”
    Since leaving the others in the bar, Bliss had scoured the ship for Roger. His first stop, the purser’soffice, to locate Roger’s cabin number had proved interesting.
    â€œNo one of that name,” said the assistant purser, quickly running his finger down the passenger list, paying little attention.
    â€œLet me look,” said Bliss snatching the book from under his fingers. “There must be some mistake.”
    â€œNo mistake, Sir,” continued the assistant purser, grappling the book back with an air of certainty.
    Bliss relinquished his grasp. “How can you be sure?”
    â€œNever forget a name, Sir … could tell you the name of everyone who’s got a cabin, all two hundred and seventy-eight of ’em.”
    Bliss scanned the list and found the total. “Two hundred and seventy-eight,” he breathed.
    â€œThat’s right, Sir.” said the officer, keeping his focus firmly on Bliss. “Starts with Adnam, ends with Yannus, and there’s eight Smiths—but there ain’t no LeClarcs, not tonight anyhow.”
    Bliss, impressed, awe-struck even, believed him. “I was sure he’d have a cabin,” he muttered, starting to turn away, unsure what to do next.
    But the assistant purser wasn’t finished. “Ah … It is possible that he’s got a cabin, Sir …” he began, nervously shuffling the list.
    â€œHow? I don’t understand. You said his name