Dead in the Water by Carola Dunn Page A

undergrads, having fought in the War. Rollo’s the crew’s captain, Cherry’s friend, and Tish’s young man, in whatever order you prefer. Thoroughly good-natured, and good at smoothing ruffled feathers, which is an excellent qualification for the captain of this crew.”
    â€œA quarrelsome lot?” Alec asked. He waved at the men tramping ahead. “These seem pretty placid.”
    â€œMost of them are, especially young Fosdyke, who lives to row, run, eat, and sleep. A nice, obliging boy, though. He’s in the four, too. Then there’s the Hon. Basil.”
    From her tone, he guessed, “The fly in the ointment?”
    â€œMosquito.” She rubbed her arm reminiscently, explaining, “I was bitten the other evening. Don’t look so horrified: by a real mosquito, not Basil DeLancey. I don’t think he actually bites, but I wouldn’t be prepared to swear to it.”
    â€œA Don Juan?”
    She frowned. “No, not exactly. At least, Cherry said he got a shop-girl into trouble, and he’s been pestering Tish like
billy-oh, but that’s as much to annoy Cherry and Rollo as … . No, it’s not even that. He just says exactly what comes into his head, and what comes into his head is rude as often as not, as he seems to despise most people. He was horribly insulting to poor Dottie. I honestly don’t believe he realises how obnoxious he is. No one could want to make enemies right and left as he does, could they?”
    â€œI’ve known a few who don’t care.”
    â€œThat’s it. He doesn’t care. Susan Hopgood told me he was the baby of the family and we decided he grew up under the impression everything he said was clever or funny or both.”
    â€œSusan Hopgood?” Alec queried.
    â€œHorace Bott’s girl. He’s the eight’s cox, and DeLancey’s principal victim.”
    â€œDon’t talk to me of victims! I’m on holiday.”
    â€œAll right, I won’t,” Daisy promised with a chuckle. “That’s Temple Island. Gosh, look at all those people waiting to watch the start! I hope we’ll be able to see.”
    Concentrating on Daisy, Alec had been only distantly aware of the wooded island in the middle of the river. Now he saw a knot of people ahead, clustered on the bank. Nearby, flags marked the start, beyond which the river was divided by floating booms into two lanes. Officials on board a motor-launch were watching the approach of two fours boats. The oarsmen in the nearer boat wore maroon shorts.
    â€œThis side is the Ambrose boat?” Alec asked.
    â€œYes, the Berks side. The other lane’s known as the Bucks side, though by the time they get to the finish it’s actually Oxfordshire. Who is it they’re racing, Mr. Meredith?” Daisy enquired as they caught up with the others.

    â€œMedway. The Medway Rowing Club. We thought we’d go on a bit farther, Miss Dalrymple, beyond this crowd.”
    Miss Carrick looked back. “We’ll be past the start but we should get a better view,” she explained.
    â€œWe’ll come too,” said Daisy.
    Poindexter forged ahead, clearing a way along the path with his, “I s-say, excuse us, chaps, do.”
    Most of those who had gathered at the start were young fellows, who no doubt had friends rowing in this or later heats. There were one or two older men, perhaps fathers, and a few young ladies. A large, middle-aged police constable stood at ease in the meadow a few yards off, keeping a benevolent eye on the crowd.
    Though Alec did his best to ignore the officer, to his annoyance he caught the man’s eye. The constable stepped a couple of paces forward and said in a confidential tone, “The young gents sometimes gets a bit excited, sir, if there’s a false start called, like, or they mebbe thinks there oughta be.”
    Alec smiled and nodded. Moving on, he said to Daisy, “Do I look so like