Max wasn’t embarrassed by this, he was just annoyed. He’d impressed upon his team on many occasions the importance of knocking. He could, he reminded her, have been in the middle of a sensitive interview, or a confidential planning meeting. Grace wasn’t so easily fooled, and neither was she going to let her team leader get away with his lazy ways. As far as she was concerned, Max was one of the least qualified in the security team to be in charge of it. The fact that he was the boss was in her view down to the company-heavy makeup of the committee. It was jobs for the boys. Max got the office because Max had always had the office, not because he merited it in any way. She intended to show him up at every possible opportunity, until he was removed from his post. Naturally she also had very strong ideas about who should replace him, and her own name was, unsurprisingly, at the top of that list. The security team was a shambles, and Grace believed she was the woman to sort it out.

“Miss Garet,” Max sighed. “What can I do for you?”

“That’s Detective Garet, Mr Mooting.”

“There’s no rank of detective on this boat, Miss Garet, as well you know. Were you here for a reason?”

“Actually, yes. I’m fed up with patrolling decks full of cabins. Nothing ever happens. You’ve given me a job that is way beneath my rank—”

Max opened his mouth to challenge her, but she dipped her head and showed him the palm of her hand.

“Way beneath my level of experience,” Grace said, cutting him off and avoiding the argument. “Patrolling should be done by some of the younger guys. I should be down on the main decks. Maybe on seven. There are always groups congregating around the kitchens. You know it’s only a matter of time before someone organises a raid. People are sick of rations. I should be in plain clothes, infiltrating these groups. That would be a far more pertinent use of my skills.”

“Miss Garet, you see malice where there is none. Yes, things turned bad for a bit after the asteroid, but that was a one-off. Not every group of people is out for mutiny. I know the signs, and I’ve seen none.”

“I’m not suggesting they are. But put three thousand people in a confined space with limited food, and things are going to get ugly sooner or later.”

“I know all about what happens when you put three thousand people on a ship. I’ve been doing this job for twenty-five years—”

“Not the same!” Grace protested, shaking her head and sending her long blonde curls flapping about her ears. “Not the same at all. You can’t compare our situation with a regular cruise.”

“I’m in charge. I’ll do what I like.”

“I’m being wasted up there. You could stick a shop dummy in a security uniform and it would do the same job I’m doing.”

“You think I should replace you with a dummy? It’s a tempting prospect.” Max smiled for the first time since Grace had arrived.

“That’s not what I said.” She yanked back the visitor’s chair, causing a notebook to drop to the floor. She picked it up and tossed it onto the desk before sitting down and crossing her legs and arms. “If you don’t find me something more productive to do, I’m going to the committee. I mean it. I’m not spending another shift wasting my time wandering empty corridors. I’ll lodge a formal complaint against you.”

Max smiled wider. “Really? That could be interesting.” He eyed the notebook that had landed in front of him, seeing an opportunity to dispose of two irritating problems in one go. “Okay, Detective Garet. You want to do some proper detecting? How about a missing persons case?”

Three

GRACE HAD BEEN convinced that Max was winding her up at first. How, she asked, could anyone go missing on a ship? She had been surprised to learn that it was quite a common occurrence. Indeed, Max told her, worldwide, on average, a person went missing from a cruise ship every two weeks, never to be seen again. Most went overboard, ending their own lives at sea. Others were never explained, or at least not to the satisfaction of the families left without answers.

Persuaded that the case was genuine, her next question had been why couldn’t they just put out a ship-wide call for Mr Moran to contact the security team. Max had said she was welcome to try that, but it meant getting approval from the committee. Ship-wide announcements were now for urgent situations only. They reasoned that regular calls over the loudspeaker system were fine for train journeys or cruises, but this was their life now. This was a fully functioning community, a town. If they started putting out calls every five minutes it would be like living in a supermarket. Grace had reluctantly agreed that she should make some preliminary enquiries before bothering the committee with what was likely to be just a case of an old man who didn’t want to play bingo anymore. Besides, secretly she relished the prospect of performing an investigation, no matter how banal.

She began by calling on Giles Moran’s cabin. Max had entrusted her with a master key, so when nobody answered her knocks, she let herself in and took a good look around.

Up in the nines the staterooms were large and well appointed. Giles’ suite comprised a lounge room, double bedroom, and a luxury bathroom, all decorated in a light blue-and-yellow scheme. A balcony looked out over Farm Plaza. It wasn’t to Grace’s taste, which pleased her no end. Her pokey room didn’t seem so bad in comparison, she decided.

What was immediately obvious was that Mr Moran wasn’t travelling alone. Three quarters of the wardrobe was filled with evening dresses, skirts, blouses, and a lot of shoes. Unless he was into cross-dressing, there was probably a Mrs Moran. The bathroom confirmed her theory, with two toothbrushes and a lot of makeup.

Grace returned to the lounge room and sank into one of the armchairs. They looked comfortable, but were very small even for her slight figure. No doubt, she thought, in order to make the room look bigger than it really was.

She considered the probable Mrs Moran. If Giles really was missing, it seemed odd that his wife hadn’t been the one to alert the security team. Deflated, she left the cabin to go and report her findings to Max. There was no case to investigate here. Giles Moran had probably just given up playing bingo. What made it worse was that she was sure Max had already worked this out. He’d given her the case to get rid of her.

As Grace was closing the door behind her, she spotted a frail woman walking into the next-door cabin.

“Excuse me!” she shouted after the neighbour. “Hi there, sorry to disturb. I’m det…I’m Grace, from the security team.”

“Hello, dear. Nice to meet you. I’m Agnes. What can I do for you?”

“I was looking for Mr Moran, in the cabin just next to yours. You wouldn’t happen to know where I could find him, would you?”

“Giles? No, dear, I haven’t seen him for…let me think now…it must be about a week. Yes, that would be it. He and Claire were very excited about leaving Scotland. I remember them saying.”

“Is Claire his wife?”

“Speak up, dear. My ears aren’t what they were!”

“I said, is Claire the wife of Mr Moran?”

“Yes. Lovely lady. Lovely couple, actually.”

“Do you know where I might find her?”

“No. I haven’t seen them for a week.”

“Either of them?”

“That’s what I said, dear.”

“You said you hadn’t seen Giles.”

“You asked me if I’d seen Giles, and I haven’t. You didn’t ask about Claire.”

Grace took a deep breath and tried to remain calm. She spoke loudly and clearly. “Okay, just so I’ve got this straight: Giles and Claire Moran are in the cabin next door, and the last time you saw either of them was when we left the Scottish lochs?”