“It seems to be an ordinary bat, hollowed and filled with lead to make a bludgeon. A dangerous weapon.” And surely an unlikely weapon for an elderly millionaire to carry about with him. “How long could it have lain there without being spotted?”
“The scuppers are cleaned out at dawn, sir,” said Harvey, “before any passengers are about. So, hours but not days.”
Alec nodded. “Thank you. I may want a word with you later, Foster.”
The seaman saluted and departed. Dane raised his head and looked at Harvey.
“The Purser has gathered all the passengers in the Grand Salon, sir, except those who can't leave their cabins. The cabin stewards are checking those. Mr. Timmins will have the missing man's name any moment. He wondered whether you want to address the passengers, sir.”
“I suppose I must.” The Captain heaved himself to his feet. “I'll tell âem we have a Scotland Yard man aboard; that should reassure 'em. If that's all right with you, Fletcher?”
The question was perfunctory. Alec gave the only possible answer: “Certainly, sir, as you wish. I doubt it's much of a secret any longer. However, all most people are aware of is an unfortunate series of accidents. Perhaps you might advise passengers not to go out on deck until the wind drops and the sea calms.”
Dane nodded acquiescence. “Make use of this room for the present,” he said, and went out with Harvey in attendance.
Alec turned to Gotobed. The Yorkshireman was solemn but seemed unperturbed by his invidious position. Consciousness of innocence? Or confidence that proof of even the fact of murder would be virtually impossible?
“I hope you understand the Captain's concern, sir,” Alec said, “passing the buck” in Arbuckle's useful phrase. “Twice, now, you have been the only person close by when a man fell overboard. Would you mind telling me again exactly what you observed on both occasions?”
Gotobed complied. Patiently he described his encounter with Pertwee and then moved on to the recent incident. “You saw me go out. The wind was terrific until I reached the companion-way, then it dropped. Nonetheless, I held on to
the rail as I climbed. I came to the top, took a step or two to my left, and stopped, still holding the rail, to look at the view.”
“You saw no one else on the boat-deck?”
“Not a soul, but I was hardly paying attention. The sea and sky were spectacular. I had no eyes for aught else. I started to turn to face forward, and as I turned, the wind struck. If it was fierce down below, it was brutal up on the exposed boat-deck, as you can imagine. Its onslaught flattened me against the rail. That was when I saw the man in the balaclava helmet toppling backwards down the steps, arms and legs flailing. The poor fellow hadn't a chance.”
“He fell from the top of the steps?”
“Pretty near, though I couldn't swear he had reached the top. He was already falling when I first caught sight of him. He cannot have been holding the rail or not tight enough. Perhaps he was already off balance, in the act of taking a step forwards, poised on one foot, when the gust hit.”
Alec hefted the bludgeon. “And this?”
Gotobed shrugged. “If for some reason he was carrying it, the weight might have thrown him further off balance. It seems to me more likely it has nothing to do with him.”
“Possibly,” Alec conceded. The story was plausible. He might have swallowed it whole if not for Pertwee's prior demise. “Perhaps we'll have a better idea when we get his name.”
“Do you think ⦠?”
Harvey opened the door and stuck his head in. “Sorry to interrupt, but Mr. Timmins thought you'd want to know at once, Mr. Fletcher. The missing man is Henry Welford.”
“Thank you.” The answer was more than half expected. “Please ask the Captain, before everyone disperses, to request that anyone acquainted with Welford or Pertwee give his name to the Purser.”
Harvey saluted and hurrried off.
After the second officer's first few words, Alec had looked not at him but at Gotobed. No flicker of recognition crossed the Yorkshireman's face. Either he already knew who had fallen, or he had never heard Welford's name before.
In either case, there was little point in continuing to question him at present. If he had carried the bludgeon to an appointed meeting on the boat-deck, then he had his story well prepared and he was far too canny a customer to be shaken by interrogation.
“The name Henry Welford means nothing to you?” Alec asked, for form's sake.
“Nowt,” said Gotobed, his lapse into Yorkshire a sign that he had relaxed his previous tension. Deliberately? “O' course, he mebbe took passage under a false name. Who knows but what I'd ha' recognized the fellow if I could've seen his face?”
“It's conceivable,” Alec conceded. He stood up. “I'm sure you'll understand, sir, that in view of your presence at two deaths, I must ask you to keep to your suite until the situation is resolved. I have no authority to confine you. This is a request, for your own safety as much as anything else.”
“Aye, lad,” Gotobed said heavily, rising. “You've your duty to do, and there'll be no grudge borne.”
“Thank you, sir. I'm sorry it's come to this. We'll go down togetherâI must speak to Mrs. Gotobed.”
“She's not well. I know I can trust you not to upset her.”
“I'll do my best, sir.” Alec was not prepared to promise. He had some pretty upsetting questions to put to the blooming bride.
D
aisy paid little heed to the grim-faced Captain's fulmination on the subject of avoidable accidents and his request that people should stay inside until the sea calmed. She was watching the stewards deliver their lists of names to the Purser, watching Timmins check the names against his master list.
She had been on her way to talk to Wanda when she was herded, along with everyone else, into the Grand Salon. The fruitless search for the missing man was over. The boats had not been out for long. No one who saw him fall could think there was the slightest chance of finding him alive, and the Captain had not wanted to risk his men unnecessarily in the wild seas. When Captain Dane, Alec, and Gotobed went off together, Daisy decided that Wanda, however little she liked her, ought to be warned that her husband was suspected of murder.
Daisy did not want to believe Gotobed was a murderer. The Captain
must
be right when he spoke of accidents. Yet she had to admit Alec was justified in looking askance at the Yorkshireman. Twice he had been right there on the spot when a man fell overboard and drowned.
It was fishy, to say the least, and it would look even fishier
if the latest victim turned out to be Welford. Daisy edged closer to the Purser.
Timmins put down his pencil with a sigh, looked up, caught Daisy's eye, frowned. He wrote a few words on a bit of paper, which he folded and gave to a steward. The steward took it to Harvey, who was standing just behind Captain Dane. Harvey read the brief message and started for the door.
Daisy intercepted him. “Welford?” she whispered.
He nodded. She went out with him, past the stewards with orders to stop passengers leaving before the Captain finished his peroration. Outside he told her, “The Purser thought Mr. Fletcher would want to know at once. You're joining him?”
“Not just now. Actually, I'm going to see Mrs. Gotobed, but there's no need to bother him with that while he's busy.”
“Do you think that's wise?” Harvey asked worriedly.
“She's not a suspect. She's been stuck in her bedroom with her maid always on call in the sitting-room.”
“That's not quite what I meant. Do you think you ought to talk to her without the Chief Inspector's knowledge?”
“I've helped Alec with several cases,” Daisy said with airy unconcern, “and this time he hasn't got his sergeant with him or hordes of constables on call. In fact, I've already done quite a bit while he was laid up with sea-sickness.”
“Ye-es, but ⦔
“He'll be anxious to know that it was Welford. You'd better hurry.”
Daisy went on down to the Gotobeds' suite. Though she had dismissed them, Harvey's doubts had made her reconsider. She decided she had better leave it to Alec to inform Wanda that her husband was not merely on his little list but at the top in capital lettersâwith no names below. She probably already knew that a third man had fallen overboard. The steward checking the cabins would have told Baines, who surely had passed it on to her mistress.
If Wanda asked outright who had drowned, Daisy would tell her. Otherwise, she'd just wait for Alec to turn up, which he was bound to do, and attempt to sit in on his interview with Wanda.
The blooming bride, still in her kimono, was pacing the sitting-room. When Baines admitted Daisy, Wanda came towards her eagerly.
“They say someone else has fallen in, but they won't tell me who. Oh, Daisy, it isn't Dickie, is it? Tell me it's not Dickie!”
“It's not DickieâMr. Gotobed.”
Wanda dropped into the nearest chair, her head bowed over hands clenched in her lap. After a moment she said in a shaky voice, “Are you sure? You're not just trying to let me down easy?”
“I said it isn't him. I meant it. I wouldn't say that if it wasn't true, even to break it to you gently.”
“Then why didn't he come and tell me he's safe?” Wanda demanded, raising an angry face. “He must've known I'd be ever so worried.”
“The stewards were herding all the passengers they could find into the Grand Salon,” Daisy evaded, sitting down, “to listen to Captain Dane pontificating on the dangers of going out on deck in rough seas and turbulent winds. I just managed to escape.”
“Clever you. Baines, do stop skulking in the corner like a tailor's dummy. Go away. I'll send for you when I need you. Daisy, if it wasn't Dickie who fell overboard, who was it?”
“No one recognized him. It's jolly cold outside, and he was all muffled up.”
“You're absolutely certain sure it wasn't Dickie? He came down after lunch and put on that awful old coat and hat of his, with a huge, great muffler round his neck, to go and smoke outside.”
“Honestly, Wanda, it was
not
Mr. Gotobed. I saw him afterwards.”
“Oh.” After a moment's silence, Wanda asked, “What happened? Did you see?”
“The man was climbing the steps to the boat-deck. There are terrific wind gusts with calm in between, and I suppose he wasn't holding the rail when a gust hit. He fell down the steps to the promenade deck and slid under the rail into the sea before Alec could catch him. It was beastly!”
“You were right there, then, when it happened.”
“Not exactly,” Daisy said cautiously.
Before she had to decide how much to reveal to the chief and only suspect's wife, Gotobed came in, followed by Alec.
Wanda rushed to her husband, wailing, “Dickie-bird, I've been ever so worried!”
He folded her in his arms, patting her back, and murmuring soothingly, “There, there, love, there's nowt for you to fret your pretty head over.”
Meanwhile, Alec scowled at Daisy, his dark brows meeting over icy eyes. Undaunted, she went to him. “I didn't tell her who it was,” she whispered, “nor that they were alone together when he fell.”
“I suppose you'd better stay,” Alec said resignedly. “He's less likely to make a fuss about leaving her to my tender mercies.”
“Fletcher wants to ask you one or two questions,” Gotobed was saying to Wanda.
“Why?” she asked in alarm. “What about?”
“We'll come to that in a moment, Mrs. Gotobed,” said Alec. “Sir, I'd prefer you to wait in the bedroom, if you don't mind.”
“I'll stay with Wanda, Mr. Gotobed,” Daisy offered.
“But ⦔
“Oh, go, Dickie, do!” Wanda made impatient shooing
motions. “I haven't done anything wrong. I don't need you to hold my hand.”
She watched him trudge to the bedroom door. When he glanced back, she blew him a kiss, as if in recompense for her sharpness. He lifted one hand briefly in acknowledgement, then closed the door behind him. Daisy thought sadly that, for the first time since she had met him, he looked his age.
“What's going on?” Wanda asked apprehensively, taking a seat as far as possible from the bedroom door. The light from the porthole shone over her shoulder, making it difficult to see her expression clearly. Daisy could see, however, that she was as taut as a bowstring.
Daisy and Alec sat down, and Alec said, his voice low enough not to be heard by Gotobed, “Does the name Henry Welford mean anything to you, Mrs. Gotobed?”
For a moment, Wanda was quite still. Then she quavered, “W-Welford? It sounds vaguely familiar. Why?”
“Because Welford was an associate of Curtis Pertwee, and Pertwee was an admirer of yours.”
“Oh. Oh yes. I think that was the name of the bloke who was with Curt ⦠Mr. Pertwee when he came up to me the other day.”
“You were acquainted with Pertwee before he approached you on board the
Talavera.”
Alec made it a statement, not a question.
“I ⦠Yes, he was at the stage door sometimes, after a performance. After all, that's why they call them âstage-door Johnnies.'”
“I dare say he brought you flowers, took you out to dinner now and then?”
“I don't remember,” Wanda said quickly. “I was quite in demand, you know. Can't remember all of 'em, can I?”
“Mrs. Gotobed, I'm sorry to be so blunt, but I must ask you whether Curtis Pertwee was ever your lover.”
The shock, horror, and disgust crossing Wanda's face were obvious in spite of all her cosmetics and the poor light. Surely she was not a good enough actress to fake that swiftly changing expression. “Never!” she declared adamantly. “Here, what's all this about?”
“I'm afraid there has been another fatality, as I gather you are aware. The missing man is Henry Welford, and your husband was alone on deck with him when he fell to his death.”
Appalled, Wanda gasped, her face blanching. “No!” she cried. With a visible effort she pulled herself together enough to go on: “He didn't know I knew them. Unless Daisy toldâ”
Gotobed burst into the room. “That's enough, Fletcher! I know you're just doing your job, but I won't have her upset. Anything else you have to say can be said in my presence.”
“Very well, sir.” Alec turned back to Wanda and said bluntly, “Mr. Gotobed has been the person closest to the victim in two unnatural deaths. As the only police officer aboard, and with Captain Dane's concurrence, I am confining him to this suite for the rest of the voyage. The Captain is offering you the use of an unoccupied cabin if you wish to move.”
His heart in his eyes, Gotobed gazed at Wanda. With consummate grace, she rose and went to him, holding out her hands. “Of course I'll stay. I don't know what's reelly happened, but Dickie wouldn't ever harm me, would you, Dickie-bird?”
Alec exchanged a glance with Daisy and gave up. The Gotobeds did not appear to notice their departure.
“I've misjudged her,” said Daisy remorsefully. “I'm sure Pertwee wasn't her lover, and I didn't think she was so fond of Gotobed. She was really upset over your suspecting him.”
His finger to his lips, Alec nodded at the sailor lounging against the wall on the opposite side of the short passage leading to the suite. A large, tough-looking man, he sketched a salute and winked as they passed.
“You didn't tell Gotobed about seeing Wanda with Pertwee and Welford, did you?” Alec asked.
“I haven't breathed a word to anyone but you. You
must
be wrong about him.”
“Someone else saw them and told him then.”
“Maybe.” Daisy sighed.
“Jealousy is a powerful emotion. He wouldn't need proof that they were lovers to give him a motive for doing away with Pertwee.”
“But what about Welford?”
“Blackmail is the obvious answer,” Alec pointed out, “which would explain their meeting on the boat-deck, too. Welford could have threatened to tell me that Gotobed killed Pertwee because he suspected he was Wanda's lover.”
“It's a bit convoluted, but I suppose it's possible.” Daisy sighed again and wrinkled her nose at him. “Darling, we're going to have to tell Arbuckle what's going on.”
“Will you do that, Daisy? Sorry to abandon you, but I'm hoping other acquaintances of Pertwee or Welford have come forward who might shed some light on this affair.”
“Right-oh. Just as well, I expect. We can all sit around and abuse you.”
“At least explain the basis for my actions,” Alec begged.
As she was on the cabin-deck, Daisy went first to Arbuckle's suite to see if he was there. He was not, but Gloria and Brenda were, giggling together over their costumes for the Fancy Dress Ball. They greeted Daisy with cries of joy and made her try on the suit of cardboard armour they had contrived between them and painted with silver paint from the boatswain.
“Because you came to the rescue last summer when I was in trouble,” Gloria explained. “I've told Birdie all about it.”
“Here's your shield,” said Brenda, producing a round teatray
covered with a Union Jack. “The steward gave us a broom-handle for a lance, but we're still working on it.”
Resignedly, Daisy tried on the armour. There was one good thing about it: encased in cardboard and carrying lance and shield, she could not be expected to tango. She was glad, too, that the two girls were having fun, apparently unaffected by the unpleasant events around them.
“What are you going as, Birdie?” she asked.
“A bird, of course. One of the stewardesses gave us a feather boa a passenger left behind on the last voyage. And Gloria's going to be a Glow-worm, only we're having trouble fixing the electric torch inside her caterpillar costume.”
“I rather think glow-worms are actually beetles.” She had learnt that when writing her Natural History Museum article.
They stared at her in dismay. “Gee whiz!” said Gloria. “It's too late to change. Never mind, I guess not many people know that.”