Murder on the Salsette (14 page)

“I can absolve her of that charge,” he said. “I spoke to her only moments before and she didn't look like a woman who was expecting a lover to call. If she had been, she wouldn't have talked to me for so long.”

“Did she threaten you, as well, George?”

“No, she was quite pleasant.”

“Pleasant?” repeated Genevieve in surprise. “Madame Roussel?”

“Yes.”

“I refuse to believe it.”

“At one point, she was almost coquettish.”

“You're spoken for, Mr. Dillman,” she warned.

“And glad to be so,” he said, kissing her gently. “When she caught me trying the door of her cabin, I thought she'd rant and rave, but Madame Roussel was in a more forgiving mood. She even complimented me on my appearance.”

“I could have done that.”

“The only awkward moment was when she said that she hoped we wouldn't have a murder on the
Salsette
. Apparently you told her about some of the crimes we'd solved in the past.”

“Only because she challenged me, George. It was time to put her in her place. Madame Roussel was treating me as if I were a complete amateur, and I wasn't standing for that.”

“Good for you!”

“It didn't stop her from threatening to report us to the captain, mind you,” said Genevieve. “We must stop her doing that.” A memory nudged her. “But she did come up with one interesting fact. Did you know that she sailed to Bombay on the
Salsette
?”

“No,” he replied. “Why did she go to India in the first place?”

“When I asked her that, I was told to mind my own business.”

“She's a lady who likes to speak her mind.”

“Yet Madame Roussel spared you the lash of her tongue this evening,” Genevieve said enviously. “What's your secret, George?”

“Flattery. I told her how wonderful she looked.”

“And did she?”

“Yes—compared to the other women in second class. No disrespect to your nation, Genevieve, but most of the English ladies there were either too conventional or simply dowdy. In fairness, Mrs. Greenwood was an exception to that,” he recalled, “and so was her daughter. Lois looked quite grown-up.”

“Did you learn anything from watching Sylvester Greenwood?”

Dillman told her what had transpired during dinner and how pleased he was to have sat with Guljar Singh. When he described the old Sikh, Genevieve identified him at once.

“That's the man who stole Mrs. Verney's purse,” she said.

“Impossible. He's no thief.”

“Mrs. Verney thinks he is. Her purse was taken on deck while she slept in her deck chair. This friend of yours—Guljar Singh—was standing nearby at the time.”

“That's hardly convincing evidence,” argued Dillman.

“It was convincing enough for Mrs. Verney. She pointed him out to me. He was sitting on deck, earning money by fortune-telling.”

“What's wrong with that?”

“He was preying on gullible people, George.”

“Only if he was tricking them, and I don't believe that he was. Guljar Singh has genuine powers of foresight, Genevieve. He gave me a solemn warning that something terrible would happen on board and—lo and behold—Mr. Nevin was murdered.”

“That could have been a lucky guess.”

“It wasn't very lucky for Dudley Nevin.”

“None of this rules him out as a suspect for the theft.”

“It's a ludicrous idea,” he said with feeling. “The chances are that all three crimes are the work of the same person, and it certainly wasn't Guljar Singh. He's a frail old man. He'd never have outrun me in the corridor like that. Besides,” he added, “he has no interest in money as such. He makes enough for his own immediate needs and that's all that concerns him. As it happens, I watched him win a bet of ten rupees from an officer who was foolish enough to mock him. Yes, and he told me that he had another unexpected sum of money today.”

“Did he say where it came from?”

“No, Genevieve.”

“Then it might have been from Mrs. Verney's purse.”

Dillman was forced at least to consider the possibility. He still believed that his friend was innocent but he now wondered about the origin of Guljar Singh's unheralded windfall.

“Give me the details of this latest theft,” he asked.

Genevieve did so, describing Mrs. Verney and explaining how she had visited the scene of the crime with her. Dillman seized on the fact that Mrs. Verney was, like Madame Roussel and Mrs. Lundgrun, the other victims before her, a second-class passenger.

“All three thefts have occurred there, so at least we know in which part of the ship we can look for our thief. He's hidden away somewhere in the passenger list that the purser gave us.”

“Unless he's a member of the crew.”

“Have you seen where the stewards sleep?” said Dillman. “They don't have individual cabins like us, Genevieve. There are at least four bunks in all of their quarters. There's no chance of hiding jewelry in there.”

“Then it has to be a passenger.”

“Someone fit enough to sprint along a corridor.”

“That must eliminate a lot of people, George.”

“It does,” he said. “But it still leaves us with a fair number of suspects. There are lots of younger people aboard the ship. You can't watch them all simultaneously. My fear is that I may have frightened the thief off this evening. If he knows someone is after him, he may decide to go to ground.”

“If that happens, we'll never find him.”

“Yes, we will,” he asserted. “Somehow.”

“Time is fast running out.”

“Then we'll have to redouble our efforts.” Seeing her disconsolate expression, he gave her a reassuring hug. “Cheer up, Genevieve. We've been in more difficult situations than this and managed to pull through.”

“I suppose so.”

“Tell me about
your
evening,” he suggested.

“It wasn't as interesting as yours. I dined with the Simcoes.”

“Have you made your peace with the daughter?”

“I thought so,” she said, “but I'm not quite sure. Tabby is such a creature of moods—and so is her mother. They spent most of the meal talking about their triumph at the card table or complaining about their steward. Some of Tabby's behavior surprised me.”

“In what way?”

“Well, she seemed so meek and mild when I first met her.”

“And now?”

“She really blossomed over dinner. She was full of confidence. In the past, she's always been rather shy where the opposite sex is concerned, but not last night. Tabby was chatting away to the young man beside her as if he were an old friend.”

“Perhaps that's what he was.”

“No, George,” she said. “He was a complete stranger—a German by the name of Siegfried Voigt. I wouldn't have believed it of Tabby if I hadn't actually seen it happen. She came very close to flirting with him.”

Lois Greenwood was circumspect. When she parted from her parents that night, she waited a long time before creeping out of her cabin with her roller skates. After her father's warning, she knew that she had to be especially careful, but she was not going to be denied her exercise. Before she put on her skates, she walked around the deck to make sure that nobody was about. It seemed to be deserted. Perched on a bench, she was reaching for the first skate when someone came out of the gloom to sit down beside her.

“Hello, Miss Greenwood,” said Dillman.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, hand on heart. “You gave me such a fright.”

“You are speaking to me, then?”

“Of course, Mr. Dillman.”

“I thought you'd forgotten who I was,” he complained. “In the dining room earlier on, you cut me dead.”

“Yes, I'm sorry about that. It was Daddy's fault. He gave me a roasting for being so impetuous. Daddy said I wasn't to befriend people like you and Guljar Singh in the way that I did. So—just to please him—I pretended to ignore you.”

“Does he know that you once skated into me?”

“No! He'd crucify me if he found that out.”

“It sounds to me as if he's rather strict with you.”

“Too strict,” she said. “It's been far worse since he became an M.P. Daddy never used to be quite so pompous before. He says that he has a position to maintain and that I mustn't let him down.”

“You're a credit to him, and I told him so.”

“Thank you, Mr. Dillman.”

“How long has he been in Parliament?”

“Only for two years or so,” she replied, strapping the first skate to her foot. “He won a by-election in Reading. The one good thing about that was that we had a party to celebrate. Daddy was in great form that night. From then on, Mummy hardly ever saw him.”

“Did he spend all his time at the House of Commons?”

“There or abroad. He's always traveled a lot.”

“Oh? What did he do before he became a politician?”

“He worked for a newspaper as a foreign correspondent. I used to get letters from all over the place. He even went to South Africa.”

“Why?”

“Something he was investigating. I don't know the details.”

“Does he like being in Parliament?”

“He loves it.”

“What about your mother?”

“She's very proud of him but she'd like to see more of him. Mummy is anxious at the best of times. When Daddy goes abroad,” she said, putting on the other skate, “she worries herself sick.”

“Why does he have to travel so much?”

“I don't know.”

“Does your father have any enemies, Miss Greenwood?”

She giggled. “He's a politician. Everyone hates them.”

“Is he the sort of man who has vendettas against people?”

“That's a funny question. Why do you ask?”

“I know that passions can run high in politics,” said Dillman. “They certainly do in my country, anyway. What about this by-election? Do you have any idea who stood against your father?”

“Not really. There were two other candidates, that's all I know.”

“Can you recall either of their names?”

“No,” she said. “I was away at boarding school when it happened. The only time I went home was for the party. If you want all the details, you'll have to ask Daddy. He still has his election poster framed on the wall of his office.”

Dillman did not wish to press her any further in case he aroused her suspicion. He had learned some interesting new facts about Sylvester Greenwood and settled for those. Since women were excluded from the political process, Lois clearly had no real curiosity about her father's work. There was little more that he could learn from her.

“Will you tell your father that we had this conversation?” he said.

“Of course not.”

“Because you're not supposed to speak to me?”

“That's not the only reason, Mr. Dillman,” she said, standing up on her skates. “If I told him we met on deck like this, Daddy would never forgive me. He has a real temper when he's roused.”

“He ought to be proud of a daughter with spirit like yours.”

“Well, he's not, I'm afraid.”

“A pity. Still, you get on with your practice. The deck is yours.”

“Good-bye!”

Pushing herself off from the bench, Lois skated along the port side of the vessel with gathering speed. Dillman waited until she had done a complete circuit of the ship and clapped his hands in
appreciation. She did not, however, get very far on her second circuit. A burly figure soon emerged from a doorway to block her way and she gave a little cry of alarm. Thinking that she was in danger, Dillman ran swiftly to her aid but his help wasn't needed. When he reached her, he saw that she was gazing up in horror at her father.

Still in his white tie and tails, Sylvester Greenwood was brusque.

“Good night, Mr. Dillman,” he said.

Max Cannadine was not enamoured of the idea at all. When it was first put to him in his office that morning, he shook his head doubtfully.

“Will that really be necessary, Miss Masefield?” he asked.

“Only as a last resort.”

“You want permission to search the cabins?”

“A selected number of them,” said Genevieve. “It may be the only way we can actually track down the jewelry that was stolen.”

“Even so, it's a big step.”

“It's always proved to be crucial in the past.”

“That may well be,” said the purser, “but that doesn't make it any more palatable for me. Passengers trust us. They have faith in us to transport them safely from one port to another in the quickest way. When they buy a P and O ticket, they don't expect to have their belongings searched by detectives.”

“They won't know anything about it, Mr. Cannadine.”

“There'd be an unholy stink, if they did.”

“Rely on our discretion.”

“How many cabins are we talking about, Miss Masefield?”

“George estimates that it will be somewhere around thirty.”

“As many as that?” gasped the purser.

“We don't want to leave any stone unturned.”

“I'll need to think about this. It's not something that we can undertake lightly. As you know, we have so many foreigners aboard. If one of them discovers you or Mr. Dillman in his cabin, we could have an international incident.”

“You'll certainly have one if Madame Roussel isn't pacified by the return of her jewelry. She's talking of suing P and O.”

“That's all we need!” moaned Cannadine with a hollow laugh.

“By the way,” remembered Genevieve, “did you know that she sailed to Bombay on the
Salsette
?”

“No, but then I don't keep track of everyone who steps aboard. There are too many of them. When was this, Miss Masefield?”

“I was going to ask you that. Do you keep old passenger lists?”