I'm Still Waiting (Bring Out Your Dead series - Part 42)

Continued from Episode 41- 'Can't Take My Eyes Off You'

The story so far (you can read from the start at 'Episode 1 - Board Stiff!'):  Josiah and Archibald, our two Undertakers, are on a mission to Spain to collect the mortal remains of Sir Lewisham Carnock.  Stuck on a ferry to Portsmouth, the various protagonists are finding it difficult to avoid each other, even when they are blisfully unaware that there is anyone to be avoided!

Approaches to the process of waiting are many and various.  At one end of the spectrum are those who will cheerfully spend an indefinite period in the expectation of some unspecified outcome, blokes in caves half way up a mountain or those chaps who used to perch on poles in the desert, that sort of thing.  At the other extreme are those who regard just a moment’s delay in immediate gratification to be a personal insult, they’re the ones who are usually standing right behind you in a queue.

For an illustration of the first example , take Josiah Oakshott.  Armed with the knowledge that the ship’s arrival at its destination was going to be considerably delayed by bad weather, he had philosophically accepted this situation and resigned himself to spending many more hours in the company of his employee, Archibald Thurble, than he had originally anticipated.  He might view the eventual disembarkation, and the subsequent need to explain all to Samantha, his fiancée and deputising manager, with a degree of trepidation, but he was at ease with the fact that there was nothing he could do to change the situation and, therefore, there was no point in becoming agitated.

Archibald Thurble, on the other hand, did not share his employer’s sanguine attitude.  The thought of spending another night on his ‘bonkette’ was driving him up the wall.  As far as he was concerned, arrival at Portsmouth could not come soon enough, regardless of the weather conditions.  He was also becoming increasingly frustrated that the shower he had been promised by Chantelle Lace had still not materialised.  He was particularly grumpy about this as, in Archibald’s world view, a promise was a promise!

D.I. Wood was also becoming increasingly frustrated.  Observing the two undertakers was like watching paint dry, only without the exciting climax.  He was also expecting the return of D.S. Stone from his scrutiny of the cabin occupied by Chantelle Lace (née Doreen Filbert) but there had been no sign of him.  D.I. Wood chafed at the inaction.  When all was said and done, he reflected, there was more excitement than this in ‘Midsomer Murders’.

Frankie Knight, meanwhile, was beside himself with frustration.  Lacey had dived out of the cabin hissing ‘Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be back soon’ and that seemed like ages ago.  Ever since he had been striding up and down the cabin, waiting for her return.  It might have only been five minutes since she had gone but it might as well have been five hours as far as he was concerned.  He couldn’t cope with this.  He had to know what was going on.  He opened the cabin door slightly and peered out.  There was no sign of the Detective, Lacey had been going on about, in fact, there was no sign of anyone, anywhere.  He took a deep breath, shut the cabin door behind him, and strolled off down the corridor in search of Lacey.  He hadn’t gone far, when a cabin door, further down the corridor, opened and an attractive, if somewhat dumpy, lady had marched out into the corridor, saw him and froze with a look of horror on her face.  Frankie decided that nonchalance was his best bet.  He nodded, companionably, to the woman and strolled past her.  She shot off back into her cabin, slamming the door behind her.  

Odd, he thought, but still, no accounting for taste.  As he walked on, he had a nagging feeling that he had seen this person before, not exactly his normal type, he conceded, but still, beggars can’t and all that!

* * * *

 

The cabin door slammed shut and Amber stood with her back to it, wild of eye and panting heavily.

“Problem, dear?” Lawrence asked, distractedly, as he studied the onboard magazine.

“Mmmm!” Amber managed.

“Oh, that’s a shame” Lawrence said, in a voice devoid of any real interest, whilst, with one finger, tracing the gross tonnage of their ship in a fascinating table.

“It’s…him!” Amber hissed.

“Who dear?” Lawrence was now trying to work out what the Beam was.

“Him!  The man in our car!”

Lawrence looked up from his scrutiny, at his panic-stricken wife.

“The man in our car?  You mean the man who hijacked us?”  He frowned.

“Yes, him!”  Amber nodded furiously.

“Don’t be silly, dear,” Lawrence smiled at his wife, “he’s dead”

“WELL HE MUST HAVE GOT BETTER!” She screeched, “he’s just walked past me in the corridor.  He even nodded to me”

“Are you absolutely sure, darling?”

“Of course, I’m sure, you idiot!” Amber snarled, “he’s not someone I’m likely to forget”

“Well, I just don’t see how…” Lawrence began.

“He can’t have been dead!” Amber realised, “he must have got out of the coffin”

“Coffin?”

“I told you, I sorted things out with that idiot undertaker.  We put him in the coffin they’re taking back to the U.K.”

“You didn’t tell me anything” Lawrence fumed, “you just said you had sorted it all out.  Do you mean to say that that undertaker knows we killed somebody?”

“No, of course not, what do you take me for?”  Amber shook her head, “I told him we found him in the café car park and he believed it.  Anyway, from the look of things, we didn’t kill anybody!”

“You hit him over the head with a tyre jack, it’s not an unreasonable assumption!”

“Oh, that’s right, blame me why don’t you?”  Amber folded her arms and glared at her husband, “if it hadn’t been for me, we could have been two shallow graves by the roadside by now”

“Instead of which, we’ve got the bloke you assaulted wandering past our cabin!  Quite the result, that is!”  Lawrence snorted.

Amber went to reply and then thought for a moment.

“He didn’t say anything” She mused, “he didn’t even look surprised or angry or anything.  He just nodded, as if we were neighbours passing in the street”

“I wonder…” Lawrence chewed his thumbnail, lost in thought, “do you think he might have amnesia?  You did hit him pretty hard”

“We’ll have to hope so” Amber nodded, “all I know is, I’m not going out of that door again until we’re safely back in Portsmouth”

“No tea, then?” Lawrence asked, in a disappointed voice.

“No, Lawrence, tea is definitely off the menu!”

* * * *

 

Meanwhile, D.S. Stone was having the time of his life.  Sitting across the restaurant table, hanging on his every word, was the single most beautiful woman he had ever encountered.  They were sharing a coffee, smiling at each other, laughing, as if they had been friends all of their lives.  Frankly, D.S. Stone could not remember a time when he had been happier.  Best of all, he was doing exactly what he had been told to do.  D.I. Wood had told him to ‘schlep off to Doreen’s cabin and keep an eye on what’s going on’.  Well, he had and this was it.  You couldn’t monitor someone much more closely than this, he reflected.

Of course, there was a minor fly in the ointment.  At some point, he would have to report back to his boss, but, there was no rush.  Another few minutes couldn’t hurt, could they?

Josiah and Archibald feature in their very own podcast!  Catch up with their very first story together, 'A Dubious Undertaking', as featured on Yorick Radio Productions - listen to podcast

Now read the next episode - Part 43