Man overboard, p.1
Man Overboard!, page 1
G R Jordan
Man Overboard!
A Highlands and Islands Detective Thriller
First published by Carpetless Publishing 2022
Copyright © 2022 by G R Jordan
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
G R Jordan asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
G R Jordan has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party Internet Websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.
Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.
First edition
ISBN: 978-1-914073-91-5
This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy
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Just for the sake of amusement, ask each passenger to tell you his story, and if you find a single one who hasn’t often cursed his life, who hasn’t told himself he’s the most miserable man in the world, you can throw me overboard head first.
Voltaire
Contents
Foreword
Acknowledgement
Novels by G R Jordan
Chapter 01
Chapter 02
Chapter 03
Chapter 04
Chapter 05
Chapter 06
Chapter 07
Chapter 08
Chapter 09
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Read on to discover the Patrick Smythe series!
About the Author
Also by G R Jordan
Foreword
This novel is set around the highlands and islands of Scotland and while using the area and its people as an inspiration, the specific places and persons in this book are entirely fictitious. The ferry company in this respect is also entirely fictitious.
Acknowledgement
To Ken, Jessica, Jean, Colin, Susan and Rosemary for your work in bringing this novel to completion, your time and effort is deeply appreciated.
Novels by G R Jordan
The Highlands and Islands Detective series (Crime)
Water’s Edge
The Bothy
The Horror Weekend
The Small Ferry
Dead at Third Man
The Pirate Club
A Personal Agenda
A Just Punishment
The Numerous Deaths of Santa Claus
Our Gated Community
The Satchel
Culhwch Alpha
Fair Market Value
The Coach Bomber
The Culling at Singing Sands
Where Justice Fails
The Cortado Club
Cleared to Die
Man Overboard!
Antisocial Behaviour
Kirsten Stewart Thrillers (Thriller)
A Shot at Democracy
The Hunted Child
The Express Wishes of Mr MacIver
The Nationalist Express
The Hunt for ‘Red Anna’
The Execution of Celebrity
The Man Everyone Wanted
The Contessa Munroe Mysteries (Cozy Mystery)
Corpse Reviver
Frostbite
Cobra’s Fang
The Patrick Smythe Series (Crime)
The Disappearance of Russell Hadleigh
The Graves of Calgary Bay
The Fairy Pools Gathering
Austerley & Kirkgordon Series (Fantasy)
Crescendo!
The Darkness at Dillingham
Dagon’s Revenge
Ship of Doom
Supernatural and Elder Threat Assessment Agency (SETAA) Series (Fantasy)
Scarlett O’Meara: Beastmaster
Island Adventures Series (Cosy Fantasy Adventure)
Surface Tensions
Dark Wen Series (Horror Fantasy)
The Blasphemous Welcome
The Demon’s Chalice
Chapter 01
Macleod stepped out of the small, green sports car, shaking his head, and stumbled towards the rear door of the Inverness Police Station. He swore to himself that the next time the car was going in for an MOT, he would get a taxi rather than let his sergeant drive him to the station.
‘Seoras, you forgot your coat. Do you want me to bring it?’
Macleod didn’t answer and simply found his bearings to the hallway of the police station and took the stairs up to his team’s office. He ignored the ‘Good morning’ from Ross and made for his own smaller office at the end of their work area, stepping inside and collapsing in the chair behind his large desk. It took ten seconds before there was a rap at the door, and it opened. Macleod looked up and saw his other sergeant, the red-haired Hope McGrath.
‘Are you okay? You’re looking a bit peaky this morning.’
‘That woman—does she drive like that with you in the car, or is it just me? I felt like I was on some sort of big dipper ride. Tell me, she can see those cars, can’t she? She does know they’re there?’
‘Well, if she didn’t hit any of them, I guess she probably does.’
Macleod looked over Hope’s shoulder and saw Clarissa Urquhart, the sergeant who had driven him in. She was taking off her trademark large shawl but today was sporting tartan trousers. He couldn’t believe the contrast in his sergeants. Young and fresh-faced Hope McGrath was steady, resolute, and efficient. On the other hand, the older Clarissa was a woman who couldn’t wait to get things done. She could charge here and there and had earned herself the name of Macleod’s Rottweiler for her brisk attitude.
‘I take it the coffee’s made?’
‘Yes,’ said Hope, ‘as always. You want one?’
‘Absolutely and apologise to Ross. I just didn’t feel like I could speak to anyone coming in.’ There came a shout from outside the office.
‘Ask Seoras if he wants a lift home.’
Macleod shook his head at Hope. ‘I’ll get a taxi,’ he said. ‘I’ll get a taxi if that car is not ready.’
‘I’ll drop you off,’ said Hope.
‘But it’s not on your way.’
‘No, but I’m not having you come in like this every day. You can be grumpy enough at times, without feeling discombobulated.’
Macleod lifted his eyes to Hope, shook his head, and sat back in the seat, closing his eyes again. A minute later, he heard the door open, and a cup was placed in front of him. There was no speech and the person turned away ever so quietly, tiptoeing back to the door.
‘Thank you, Ross,’ said Macleod.
‘Pleasure, sir.’
Detective Constable Ross was the only person on the team who nowadays called him sir. It was a staple from the past, but Ross said he could never get used to calling Macleod Seoras, or even Inspector Macleod. It was always sir. Apart from Hope, Ross had been the longest to serve with him out of his colleagues and was the solid core of the team. Ross made sure everything happened, while Macleod was left free to think long and deep on cases, to make the connections. It had taken him a while, but he felt he had a team now that functioned well together.
Macleod rested his eyelids for another five minutes before opening them and looked down at the paperwork on his desk. There were various things to sign off, reports to read through, and he sat looking at them for an age, before beginning. His coffee had been drunk at this point and almost by magic, Ross appeared to take the cup away and recharge it. In some ways, he felt like a manservant to Macleod, and Seoras sometimes wondered did he take Ross for granted.
He couldn’t do that with the other two. If they felt Macleod was overstepping his mark, they’d tell him. Hope, professionally and calmly. Clarissa with the sarkiest of comments.
Picking up the recharged cup, he stared through the glass at his team working in the office outside. Things had been quiet for a week. There had been a couple of routine deaths to look at, but none of them had been suspicious. Times like these he had learnt to enjoy, when there was less cut and thrust, when things were just calm. In his younger days, he’d have been itching for something to happen. Nowadays, he could stay like this for the year, although preferably without the lift in to work.
Macleod watched Clarissa Urquhart pick up the phone and begin to chat to someone on the other end. He was always taken aback by her purple hair. The woman was vivacious and in a lot of ways, he’d grown to like her, but he always felt he had to watch just in case she misbehaved too much. Some people in the force didn’t like the sharp comments, but then again, she was like him, edging closer to retirement. She really didn’t care less about who she offended anymore. Macleod did, but not from a worry about his job; it was just his nature.
He watched the woman scribble a few notes from her phone call and then stand up and come towards his office. Almost automatically, he put his head down in his work again as the door was knocked and then opened.
‘Seoras, I think I’m going to have to give you a lift again.’
Macleod looked up rolling his eyes. ‘No.’
‘I’ve just taken a call from Minchlines, the ferry company, stating that they’d sent all of the information to the Coastguard. I think they’ve called the wrong place.’
‘How come?’ asked Macleod.
‘There seems to have been a number of tragedies on the ferries recently, several passengers who went overboard and whom they were unfortunately unable to rescue. It seems that the Coastguard asked for quite a few details, but somebody at Minchlines has managed to send it to us. I’ve tried to redirect them. Maybe you should give them a call, because I think Minchlines has got the wrong idea.’
‘Will do. They operate all up and down The Minch, don’t they? And just south of it.’
The Minch was a stretch of water between the Western Isles and the west coast of Scotland. The islands were served by the ferry company in what was described as a lifeline service. The crossings varied in length, but the water could be rough in the winter. Macleod had used the ferry on many occasions from his time living on the Isle of Lewis.
‘I’ll give them a call,’ said Macleod, ‘we’re not doing anything else at the moment, are we?’
‘If you need to get dropped down, I can give you a lift.’
‘Dropped down?’ queried Macleod. ‘The Coastguard’s based in Stornoway for that area.’
‘All right, out on Lewis? That’ll be a fair hike then.’
‘No, it won’t. We won’t need to take the car out for a run either,’ said Macleod, ‘I’ll just ring them.’
‘Okay,’ said Clarissa, ‘but if you need a lift back tonight, just say; okay?’
Macleod didn’t even start to argue. He just waved his hand and reached down for his phone. He looked up the number for the Coastguard in Stornoway and gave them a call.
The controller at Stornoway had a name that Macleod thought he recognised from his school days. James MacArthur, as Macleod recalled, was also a quality footballer and a bit of a Romeo in his day. He’d gone to the Nicholson Institute, the same secondary school as Macleod and just about everyone on the Isle of Lewis, and Macleod was sure he would know him.
‘Seoras Macleod, long time, I have obviously heard about you, seen you on the news a few times, some bloody business you’re involved in.’
‘Indeed, James, but I thought you’d left the island. You’re back over again?’
‘We all return home,’ said James, ‘except you.’
‘You don’t want me to visit,’ said Macleod. ‘I only bring death and destruction and that’s why I’m ringing. We took a call today from Minchlines, apparently about sending us all the details on various passengers that had died. Three, they said recently. I don’t understand why they’re ringing us.’
‘Might be enforcement branch that was looking for it,’ said James.
‘Is something untoward happening?’ asked Macleod.
‘Is this official? Because I thought enforcement were going to speak to you.’
‘Speak to us?’ asked Macleod. ‘Why would they want to speak to us? I take it these are people who have gone overboard. I thought that was their jurisdiction out there.’
‘They’ve got a theory,’ said James, ‘nobody else here knows about it but I was advised in case any information came my way, so I could pass it to them.’
‘What do you mean, a theory?’ asked Macleod.
‘Well, I’d better tell you the whole story,’ said James. ‘Buckle up, it could be a long one.’
‘Just hang on a minute,’ said Macleod and he placed his phone down and went to the door.
‘Hope, come in a minute, sit down, and listen to this.’
His redheaded sergeant stood up, strode over, and took a seat on the opposite side of Macleod’s desk.
‘James, I’ve got Hope McGrath here with me to hear this. I just want a second opinion on it because by the sounds of it, this could be quite juicy.’
‘Fair enough. Hello, there,’ said James, ‘nice to meet you, Hope. I was telling Seoras that recently we’ve had a number of deaths on the ferries, people who have gone overboard. Our investigation branch has been looking into it and they’ve been asking Minchlines for some of their documentation. We don’t think the ferry company has done anything wrong at all. In fact, they reacted splendidly each time in terms of trying to rescue the people who went overboard. We also don’t think that any of their equipment or ferries are out of line in any way. In fact, there’s a high likelihood of suicide in all three instances, but with them so close together, we decided to take a proper look at it.
‘The first one happened on the ferry from Tarbert to Uig, Harris to Skye run. A man by the name of Andrew Culshaw went overboard. No one saw him go in, but he was seen briefly in the water afterwards by a young couple on the other side of the deck, who’d simply walked round and were looking off the back of the ferry when they saw him. There are some rumours that he and his wife were having trouble, but there was nothing to indicate anybody else was with him at the time.
‘We don’t know the method of entry into the water. We don’t know if he knocked himself out or if he simply was deciding to do it, or if it was an accident. A lot is unknown at this time. That obviously was a tragedy, and we went out looking for him, spent several days with lifeboats up and down and the helicopter, but we couldn’t recover the body.’
‘That’s not unusual though, is it? I mean the body will wash up at some point, but it’s not unusual not to find them if that happens?’ asked Macleod.
‘That’s correct, Seoras. Once they’re in, if you don’t get to them quick and they go under, well, it’s almost potluck in some ways. He didn’t have a life jacket on. Like I say, we don’t know the method of entry, could have knocked himself out on the way down.’
‘Where was the next one?’ asked Hope.
‘Sound of Mull, Oban to Mull Ferry. A narrower stretch of water, but Peter Hughes fell off that ferry. Again, he wasn’t seen going in, only once he was in the water. They didn’t say he was waving or indicating any form of distress. There didn’t seem to be any reaction from him in the water, which is one of the reasons why we think these are possibly suicides. However, they spun around, and tried to find him. Again, they didn’t succeed.’
‘Very similar in some ways,’ said Macleod, ‘but I guess if somebody’s intending to commit suicide, it’s pretty reasonable that the circumstances could be similar. Maybe learnt from the first one.’
‘Well, yes, because the rescue was all over the news both times. The third one we did manage to pick up the man involved. Unfortunately, we’re struggling to get his state of mind.’
‘Where did that happen?’ asked Hope.
‘Leverburgh to Berneray.’
‘Where’s that?’ asked Hope.
Macleod almost tutted. ‘That’s the Isle of Harris down to North Uist.’
‘They’re all pretty close, aren’t they?’ said Hope.
Macleod took a deep intake of breath, ‘Pretty close is true,’ he said; ‘that’s interesting. What happened with this one, James?’
‘Well, again, we don’t know. He was simply seen in the water. It’s not that big a ferry, quite hard to go in unnoticed. Although, if people were inside, which most of them were, it is possible. But you don’t get a lot of blind spots.’
‘Is there any connection between the three ferries?’ asked Macleod. ‘Passenger names and that?’
‘I don’t believe they think so. I haven’t been running the investigation, I’m just the Controller here at the Operations Centre. It’ll be enforcement and investigations that are looking into it, MAIB as well—the Marine Accident Investigation Branch. They’re having a look at it, but they seem to be saying suicide.’
