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the tight floorspace. They were uniformly messy, but ramshackle messy rather than ransacked messy. He thought of the post‐
burglary look Sophie could effect in their spacious bedroom and imagined it concentrated. These guys were anal by comparison.
    The sub‐
level housed a shower cubicle on one side, and occupying the majority of the area under the galley was what had to be the boat’s nerve centre. Radar screens – wait a minute, that would be sonar, right? – computers, and all sorts of science‐
lab shit. There were worktops on all sides supporting glass tubes of stratified sand, charts, printouts, lumps of rock, jars of what looked like mud, and, like guess‐
who‐
doesn’t‐
belong, a carton of UHT milk.
    ‘So, apart from a submarine, anything else missing?’ he asked, emerging back on to the rear deck where Janie was leaning against a side‐
rail.
    ‘Can’t be sure. We don’t have an inventory; need to wait until someone from CalORI can take a look around, which won’t be pleasant for whoever it is. They were all real close, it seems. Big happy family. But it doesn’t look like anything’s missing. Life‐
savers are all in place, so no man‐
overboard scenarios. Sub‐
aqua equipment accounted for – four sets of tanks and wetsuits.’
    ‘So all that seems to be gone is one submarine and four people.’
    Janie nodded.
    ‘Now, I know I’m a landlubber and all,’ Larry said, ‘but doesn’t it sound a lot like …’
    She nodded again. ‘This whole Mary Celeste scenario’s had everybody here freaked out since the trawler captain called it in, but having had time to reflect, and if you’ll forgive the fish reference, I think the abandoned dinner scene could be a red herring. I checked the ship’s log. The last entry says they were taking the sub on a dive, to the slopes of something or other, some undersea location they must have been checking out. The entry isn’t timed, just dated. According to the entries before it, they spent that Sunday doing running repairs, maintenance, odd jobs, ready to get serious again on Monday. Seems possible to me they stuck the plates in the sink, went to bed then got up and made an early start, figuring clean‐
up duty could wait. That could be morning coffee in those mugs, remember.’
    ‘But the U‐
boat springs a leak, taking everybody right down the “slopes of whatever” and into the sweet by‐
and‐
by?’ Larry offered.
    ‘Works for me. There are variations on the theme. As you can imagine, it’s been a popular discussion topic round here.’
    ‘Keep talkin’. Long as aliens ain’t involved.’
    ‘Okay. First is the “sounds like a great idea after six beers and some brandy” theory. They’re drunk and someone suggests taking the Stella Maris for a midnight spin.’
    ‘Don’t buy it,’ he said. ‘These guys were pros, not teenagers out on Dad’s fishin’ boat.’
    ‘Experience can breed complacency and misplaced confidence, Sergeant. I’ve seen it before. But anyway, it wasn’t my theory.’
    ‘Well forget it. Can you see the coroner’s office telling that to the bereaved families? I can’t. So what other spins did you guys come up with when you “workshopped” this thing?’
    Janie looked like she wanted to take offence, but she couldn’t help smiling. She rolled her eyes. ‘All right, well, there’s the “all a big hoax” theory. It’s some sort of stunt. They took off in the sub, rendezvoused with another boat and are lying low while the world gets interested.’
    Larry just grinned, shaking his head. ‘Next.’
    ‘Just one more. The nineteen ninety‐
nine theory.’
    He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Whatever it was, he knew he wasn’t going to like it.
    ‘Suicide pact,’ she said. ‘End‐
of‐
the‐
century psychosis combined with cabin fever after weeks on this little boat, plus maybe a bit of depressurisation trauma. They grow real close and real crazy. A last supper, then…’
    Larry