“My name is Fletcher,” he said. “I most sincerely beg your pardon for intruding. I'm afraid your cabin-mate has suffered an accident, a fatal accident, and Captain Dane has instructed me to find out what I can about him.”
A groan was the only answer.
If Daisy had suffered an accident while Alec was feeling his worst, he liked to think he would have jumped up to do whatever was necessary. However, had his cabin-mate been a stranger assigned at random by the Wellington Line, he doubted he would have been able to summon up much interest in the fellow's fate. He sympathized with Welford but pressed on.
“Were you acquainted with Mr. Pertwee before the voyage, sir?”
“No.”
“So you've known him only a few days. That's a pity. Still,
any information you can give me is more than I have now. Did he talk about his family?”
“No.”
“His work? His friends or associates at home?”
“No.”
“His purpose in going to America?” Alec persisted.
“No.”
“Not a conversable gentleman. But you must be aware of whom he associated with aboard?”
“No. Just because we shared a cabin, it doesn't mean we had to stick together.” Welford's peevish voice was educated, perhaps minor public school.
“True,” Alec agreed. He shot an arrow at a venture, not really supposing that serious animosity could be generated in so short a time. “I take it you found you had little in common, then. Perhaps you even found being confined together at such close quarters irksome?”
Welford responded by performing a sort of half dive over the side of the berth, reaching for the basin. Alec fled.
The steward was waiting in the passage. “Any luck, sir?” he enquired.
Alec shook his head. “It sounds as if Welford and Pertwee scarcely exchanged a word.”
“That's not so bad, sir. Sometimes them that's put in together get to where they rub each other's nerves something dreadful. They come running to us stewards with complaints about hairs in the wash-basin, and lights left on when someone's trying to sleep, and someone else getting up early with a lot of noise when the other chap's trying to sleep. Not much we can do about it 'cepting ask 'em to be more considerate.”
“You haven't had any complaints from those two?”
“Nary a murmur, sir, nor Brittlin hasn't, that's on days. We pass âem on to each other, see, so's we know what to look out for. I reckon they just ignored each other. I never saw 'em
go in or out together, and the Purser always seats people sharing a cabin at different tables, 'less they're a married couple, of course, or ask to be together.”
“I'll have to go through Pertwee's luggage tomorrow,” Alec said. “His next of kin must be informed of his death as soon as we reach New York.”
“I 'spect the Captain's already sent the company a wireless, sir. They'll be looking for next of kin.”
Unaccustomed to being anywhere he might need it, Alec had temporarily forgotten the existence of wireless telegraphy. He would telegraph the Yard and see what they came up with. If Pertwee was unknown to Records, Tom Tring could have a go at digging out his life history, including any enemies who might have wanted to do away with him.
“I'll still need to go through his things,” he told the steward, “and I must have a word withâBrittlin, was it? May I leave it to you to arrange matters?”
“Right you are, sir,” said the man resignedly.
Who next, Alec thought, the unlucky gambler, Riddman, or Gotobed, whose story he really ought to hear for himself? Or should he go straight to the wireless room? No, it opened off the bridge, and he had more or less promised Daisy not to go outside alone. He did feel pretty groggy. He would wait and see if she had learnt anything new from Wanda and then decide what to do next.
Â
Meanwhile, Daisy called on Wanda. The maid admitted her with a hopeful look, which faded as Daisy said, “I can only stay a minute. How is Mrs. Gotobed?”
“Restless, ma'am,” Baines said tiredly. “I'll tell her you're here.” She went into the bedroom, returning a moment later to invite Daisy to step in.
This time the room was lit by a standard lamp behind the
chaise longue on which Wanda reclined. She dropped a copy of
Vogue
on the floor as Daisy entered. Clad in silk lounging pyjamas in her favourite bright pink, she looked much recovered.
“I'm glad you've come, Daisy,” she said. “I'm ever so bored.”
“I can only stay a few minutes. Mr. Gotobed would be happy to come down to entertain you, I know.”
“Oh no, I'm not well enough.” She put a theatrical hand to her forehead. “I did make an effort for his sake and get out of bed, but I'm reelly not well. It's the make-up; it makes me look lots better than I feel.”
“Since you've recovered enough to get up though, just tell me, do you recall the names of your two admirers who were talking to you the other day?”
Sitting bolt upright, Wanda demanded in alarm, “Why?”
“Don't worry, I haven't told your husband about them. It's just that there's been an accident and ⦔
“An accident! What's happened?”
“I'm afraid a man I think was one of those two, a Mr. Pertwee, fell overboard and drowned.”
Wanda burst into tears, burying her face in her hands. Astonished, Daisy dug into her evening bag for a handkerchief.
“Here, take this. I'm frightfully sorry. I didn't think it would upset you so.”
“It's the shock,” Wanda sobbed. “He was ⦠he was ⦔
“Don't try to talk now. I'll call your maid.”
“No, no, don't. I'll be all right in a minute, honest.” She raised her head, her face white beneath the smeared cosmetics. “IâI'm just too soft-hearted for me own good. I mean, someone I know! You don't think something like that'll happen. I feel all woozy.”
“Let me help you back to bed,” Daisy offered, filled with guilt. She had thought Wanda as hard as nails, or she would never have broken the news so abruptly.
The distress was obviously genuine. Wanda was actually shaking as Daisy supported her over to the bed. Was she really ill, not just sea-sick?
“Shall I ask Dr. Amboyne to look in on you?”
“No, it would only worry Dickie. I just want to get to sleep. I've got some powders somewhere. Baines'll know, and tell her I want a hot-water bottle, will you?”
“Right-oh,” Daisy said obligingly. It seemed to be her day for summary dismissals. “I hope you get a good night's sleep and feel better in the morning.”
She went to look for Alec and met him coming away from Pertwee's cabin.
“What luck?” they asked simultaneously, and both shook their heads.
“Wanda's not at all well,” said Daisy, “and easily upset. She cried like anything when I told her Pertwee is dead, so I'm sure he was one of her admirers though I never did get an answer out of her.”
“You didn't get the name of the second admirer?” Alec asked.
“No, but it strikes me, darling, that Pertwee probably knew whoever it was quite well or they wouldn't both have approached her at the same time. It wasn't Welford?”
Alec shrugged. “Welford denies knowing anything about Pertwee, but he was too sick to be communicative. Of course, supposing they were in league to cheat at cards, he wouldn't want the connection known. If so, they were careful. The steward never saw them coming or going together.”
“That in itself sounds fishy. You'll have to ask Chester Riddman who his poker partners are. Were.”
As they talked, Alec had led the way to their own cabin.
Taking off his jacket, he said, “It's going to be ticklish. Get me out my evening togs, will you, love? You say Lady Brenda told you Riddman lost a lot of money. The Purser says he's known to have played poker with Pertwee. You saw Riddman on deck shortly after Pertwee was shotâassuming, as I must, that he
was
shot. Obviously Riddman is a prime suspect.”
“So you can't just march up to him and start asking questions without putting him on his guard.”
“Precisely. At least I'll talk to his steward first, see if I can get a description of the other man or men he gambled with. What did the second stage-door Johnnie look like? Damn this collar! I hate stiff collars.”
“They're as silly as bustles or Grecian Bends,” Daisy agreed. She noticed with pleasure his use of “damn,” equating it to Gotobed's lapses into pure Yorkshire. After just over a fortnight of marriage, Alec was no longer afraid the odd swear-word might injure her delicate aristocratic sensibilities. “Let me do the studs for you, darling. Johnnie Number Two was utterly nondescript. All I can remember about him is that he was shorter than Number OneâPertwee. What's Welford like?”
“As I only saw him under the bedcovers by the light of the night-lamp, I couldn't describe him to save my life. He did emerge in the end, but when I realized his objective was the basin on the floor, I scarpered. I got the impression of a smallish man with a bald spot.”
“He can't be ruled out as Number Two then. Gosh, darling, it's just dawned on me that Pertwee might have been more to Wanda than simply another admirer. If he had been her lover, it would explain why she was so upset.”
Alec stopped with his waistcoat half on. “It certainly would,” he agreed, “and that opens up all sorts of possibilities. For instance, did he follow her in order to blackmail her?”
“I don't think so,” Daisy said doubtfully, holding the
waistcoat for him to put his other arm in. “They looked quite chummy. All she seemed concerned about afterwards was that Gotobed shouldn't find out.”
“Which suggests that there was something to find out,” said Alec. He buttoned his waistcoat and reached for his dinner jacket. “She told you she didn't want him reminded of her career on the stage?”
“Yes, though come to think of it, he's never shown the least reluctance to talk about it. But if she's sensitive about it, she probably assumes he is.”
“Very likely. On the other hand, she'd have every reason to fear his finding out that her lover was aboard.”
“Even if Pertwee is still ⦠was still her lover, I can't see why he came on the
Talavera.”
Daisy straighted Alec's black tie, a wifely gesture in which she took great pleasure. “It would be easier and safer to resume their liaison when she gets back to England.”
“Failing a deathless passion and resultant refusal to be parted, I'd guess he was living on Gotobed's unknowing largesse,” Alec said cynically as they left the cabin. “She would find it difficult to pass on large sums so early in the marriage, so he'd have to remain nearby.”
“But he's been winning at poker. Oh, but Brenda said Riddman's cheques hadn't been cashed. I think he told her the winner promised to hold them till New York. Darling, I bet Brenda knows the names of the men who played poker with Riddman! Shall I have a little heart-to-heart with her? If you try to pump her, it's bound to get back to him and warn him of your suspicions.”
“Daisy, I haven't forgotten Riddman,” Alec said, “but you do realize, don't you, love, that if Pertwee was Wanda's lover, the man with the best motive for putting him away is Gotobed?”
D
aisy stopped dead with her hand on the companion-way rail. “Gotobed?” she said, horrified. “Impossible!”
Alec groaned, recognizing the symptoms. Whenever Daisy got herself mixed up in one of his cases, or mixed him up in one of her entanglements, she sooner or later took one of his suspects under her wing. Thereafter, she refused to credit the possibility of that person's guilt.
Sometimes she was right, and sometimes she was painfully wrong. The trouble was, she could no longer view the case objectively. Her theories and opinions, which Alec ruefully admitted were occasionally useful, tended to exculpate her favourite. She would fail to report odd snippets of information. Alec was convincedâwell, fairly certainâshe did not do so on purpose; it was more like an unconscious refusal to see their significance.
“He was standing right beside Pertwee,” Alec reminded her, “actually reaching into his pocket.”
“For matches, not a pistol. We would have seen if he had pulled out a gun.”
“Would you? I don't think I would, not at that moment.”
“Well, perhaps not. At that particular moment I was more
concerned with catching the rail and not going overboard myself. But Gotobed couldn't have known we wouldn't be watching. He knew we were right there.”
“True. It would have to have been the decision of a split second when he saw our attention elsewhere. He could hardly miss at that range.”
“And he was carrying a pistol around on the off-chance?” Daisy said sceptically.
“Why not, if he knew about his wife and Pertwee?”
“Which is pure speculation in the first place,” she scoffed. “Besides, if he'd shot Pertwee, he'd hardly have reported to the Captain that he'd been shot. No one would have known.”
“He couldn't be sure the body wouldn't be recovered,” Alec pointed out. “If Pertwee had been hauled out with a bullet in him, and Gotobed was known to be standing beside him and had said nothing, it would have looked extremely fishy.”
“Maybe, butâOh, sorry!”
They were blocking the way, still standing at the bottom of the companion-way where Daisy had come to a halt. She moved aside to let another couple pass and then started upwards. Alec followed.
“But?” he asked.
“Gotobed's no fool. If he wanted to bump off Pertwee, which I don't believe, he wouldn't have done it in such a public place when he was the only one near him.”
“Not if he had planned the murder, I agree. But we've only Gotobed's word for it that Pertwee asked for a light. Pertwee must have known who he was. What if he actually revealed his affair with Wanda at that moment, and Gotobed reacted without thinking?”
“In that case, Gotobed didn't know before, so why was he carrying a gun?” Daisy asked reasonably. “And why would
Pertwee reveal the
affaire,
thus killing the goose that laid the golden eggs?”
Alec was sure there must be answers to both questions, but he couldn't think of any. His head was distinctly muzzy after twenty-four hours without nourishment; not the best state in which to confront witnesses, let alone suspects. He still couldn't face food. Yet now that he was on his feet, he could not leave the investigation to Daisy, especially since she was determined to defend Gotobed.
She could help elsewhere though, and it would distract her. As they reached the entrance to the Grand Salon, he said, “You're right about Lady Brenda, love. Will you see what you can find out from her, without being too obvious? Do not, for instance, ask if she was with Riddman when Pertwee was shot.”
“Right-oh, darling.” She scanned the room and Alec followed suit.
Tonight, two-thirds of the space was occupied by small tablesâhalf of each dining table having been removedâand groups of easy chairs, all bolted down. Passengers were chatting, reading, playing cards, chess, or backgammon. On the small dance floor, several couples gyrated.
Alec noticed uneasily that the dancers' movements were frequently interrupted by unorthodox steps dictated by the ship's motion, affording them a good deal of amusement. The
Talavera
was skipping about like a drunken lamb. However, his stomach seemed to have settled, more or less, and he had begun to adjust automatically for the irregular movements as he walked. Nonetheless, he quickly averted his gaze from the dance floor.
“Brenda's dancing with Riddman,” Daisy said in surprise. “Doesn't that suggest that he's lost his poker partners, one dead and one sea-sick?”
“Or he's come to realize he owes his fiancée some attention. Leave her be this evening. You may not need to talk to her at all if I get the information from Riddman's steward. He probably has a manservant aboard, but I'd rather keep him in the dark if possible. Ah, there's Gotobed.”
“Darling, he ⦔
“You know I have to have a first-hand description of what he saw when Pertwee went over.” He headed for the table where his quarry sat with Arbuckle and Miss Oliphant.
In spite of the cottonwool in his head, Alec easily manoeuvred matters the way he wanted them. The gentlemen rose when Daisy arrived, of course. As they all exchanged greetings, Alec seated her in the fourth chair. Then he laid his hand on Gotobed's sleeve and indicated a nearby empty table with his head. The two of them moved over to it. Alec felt Daisy's reproachful gaze following him.
“Sorry to drag you away, sir.”
“That's quite all right.” Gotobed appeared neither surprised nor alarmed. “You'll be wanting to hear about it for yourself, Chief Inspector.”
“Please, Fletcher will do. Yes, I do need the story from the horse's mouth. You are the only eye-witness, as Daisy and I weren't looking at that moment.”
The Yorkshireman's lips twitched. “So I gather. I see you have found your sea-legs. I only wish Wanda would try Miss Oliphant's simples.”
“They do seem to have helped,” Alec said cautiously, “especially the ginger. Will you describe, please, exactly what happened?”
Gotobed ruminated for a moment. “To begin at the beginning,” he said, “I went up to the boat-deck to smoke a pipe. I don't care for the Smoking Room, and a bit of bad weather doesn't bother me. In fact, I rather like a good, boisterous blow. You're a townsman, I believe?”
“Born and bred. I can see the attraction of a blustery wind though. I know Daisy finds it invigorating.”
“Aye, there's a lass after me own heart,” Gotobed observed, lapsing momentarily into Yorkshire. He resumed in standard English: “I found a sheltered nook to light my pipe then went over to the rail. It was just a few minutes later that I turned and recognized you and Mrs. Fletcher under a pair of sou'westers.”
“Daisy's almost swallowed her,” said Alec, with a reminiscent grin, reflected on Gotobed's face. Alec was finding it damnably difficult to remember the man was a suspect. He was just too likeable. “They were lent us by the first officer. I was talking to him about Denton.”
“The fellow who went overboard last night? How is he?”
“In a bad way, I'm afraid.”
“I'm sorry to hear it. This doesn't seem to be a lucky voyage, does it?” Gotobed sighed. “And it started with such high hopes.”
“Sea-sickness plays havoc with one's plans,” Alec commiserated tactfully. “But to continue, Daisy and I started towards you.”
“And before you reached me, that fellow ⦔
“Excuse me,” Alec interrupted, “you don't know his name?”
“You haven't discovered yet who he was? I'm afraid I can't help you. I'd never spoken to him before, though I'd seen him about once or twice.”
Gotobed appeared to be perfectly sincere. Alec reminded himself that no man makes a million before he's forty without possessing a certain talent for dissimulation.
“Oh, we know who he was. A Mr. Pertwee, Curtis Pertwee.” Though he watched narrowly, Alec did not see so much as a flicker of an eyelid at the name. “I simply wondered
why he approached someone with whom he was unacquainted.”
“I wondered the same thing myself. I suppose he saw I was smoking. He waved a cigarette at me and asked for a light. Naturally I reached for my matches, though I didn't think there was much sense trying to strike one in that wind and rain. In fact, now I recall thinking I'd have to lend him the box to take to a sheltered corner.” If Gotobed was making up the story, he certainly had the details pat.
“Safety matches?” Alec asked, on the off-chance of confusing him.
“I wouldn't carry any others in my pockets. I had my hand in my pocket when the ship cut a caper. I lost my balance and stepped back, mebbe twisted round a bit, but I kept my eyes on the fellowâPertwee. He did a sort of hop towards me, and I wasn't sure but that he was going to crash into me. I imagine it was to avoid doing so that he twisted aside, with his back to the rail.”
“Ah, he was facing away from the rail when it happened?”
Gotobed nodded. “Suddenly a look of horror came over his face. He raised his hand towards his shoulder, and I saw blood welling there. At the same time, he spun round. He pitched over the rail before I could react. I blame myself greatly for not catching him. An old man's reflexes are not what they were,” he added heavily.
“I doubt many men would have reacted fast enough or been able to hang on once he started to topple. The look of horror came first, did it?”
“No, not really. It all happened so fast.” Gotobed shrugged helplessly. “I saw his expression, the blood, the movement of his hand, and his turning virtually simultaneously.”
“And you knew he'd been shot.”
“No, no. I was too shocked to think at all. Throwing the
life-belt was automatic, not a reasoned action. Then that possibility dawned on me. I believe I blurted it out to Mrs. Fletcher immediately, but it was after she ran off to inform the bridgeâWhat a cool head in an emergency! You must be very proud of her.”
“She has a good deal of common sense,” said Alec, with vicarious modesty. He hadn't realized Daisy had been responsible for stopping the
Talavera
, but he might have guessed. She had been the one to take charge when Lady Brenda turned hysterical after Denton fell overboard. Dammit, he
was
proud of her, and he ought to tell her so.
“It was not until she had gone,” Gotobed went on, “that I really thought about it, and I could come up with no other explanation which fitted what I had seen.”
“You are familiar with fire-arms?”
“Not with their use, though I do know something of the metals involved in their manufacture. I was too old to fight in the War, of course, but I trust the details I was able to provide about Germany's pre-War imports of special steels may have been of some small assistance. And though a countryman, I am not, as you know, a country
gentleman
. The nearest I've come to shooting as a sport was earning a few shillings as a beater in my youth. Any poaching I may have been guilty ofâand I admit to nothing, mind you!âwas a matter of snares, not shotguns.”
He was convincing. Alec's suspicions veered towards Chester Riddman, but he asked, “You did not hear a shot?”
“No. The wind noise up there was tremendous, as you may recall.”
“Nor see anyone leaving in a hurry or throwing something overboard which could have been a weapon?”
“My entire attention was on the unfortunate victim. Pertwee, you said? Has he relatives aboard?”
“Apparently not. Thank you, sir, I appreciate your cooperation.
Perhaps I might beg a favour? Since I haven't my usual facilities for investigation, would you be so kind as to write down your recollections, while they are fresh in your mind, in the form of a formal statement?”
“Certainly. I shall let you have it tomorrow,” Gotobed promised. “I'm afraid I haven't been very helpful.”
“You have been very clear, which few witnesses manage. And without your report, no one would have known a crime had been committed.”
Gotobed showed no sign of wishing he had kept it to himself. “I hope you catch t'bugger as did it,” he said, standing up, his gaze fixed on something behind Alec.
Alec glanced back. Phillip and Gloria Petrie had joined Arbuckle and Miss Oliphant. Petrie was standing with his hand on the back of his wife's chair, and beside him stood Chester Riddman. Both were tall, sleek, and dressed in the finest evening get-up Savile Row could produce. Petrie looked as usual amiable and rather fatuous. In comparison, the younger American had a reckless, dissipated air.
“Riddman?” Alec asked Gotobed.
“Nay, lad, I've no call to be naming names.”
“I'll be asking Mr. Riddman a few questions. But probably not tonight,” he added, spotting Daisy and Lady Brenda heading for the door to the ladies' lounge. With any luck, Daisy would provide him with some ammunition with which to face Riddman in the morning.