The Pleasure Cruise Mystery (8 page)

“Relentless sleuth! But for goodness' sake tell me what you overheard.”

“The first thing that caught my attention was the fact that Mrs. Mesado wished to avoid her fellow passengers. There was nothing very extraordinary about that. Some people are painfully shy at all times, but such people don't indulge in pleasure cruises. She has practically kept to her cabin, except for a brief appearance at dinner last night, ever since the ‘Mars' left London. You might explain her conduct by illness, but to all appearances she was not ill. Then last night, when I was sitting alone reading your book by Professor Dorsey, I happened to overhear voices in No, 89. I am now certain that the two people who were talking were Colvin and Mrs. Mesado. I very clearly heard Mrs. Mesado tell Colvin, ‘You'll have to do the job as soon as possible, Dick.' Dick remonstrated and asked her to consider the risks, and was told that he'd have to take them. Now you know the word ‘job' is a very common one among criminals, though I'm not prepared to say right away that either Colvin or Mrs. Mesado is of that class. The expression, however, made me prick my ears, especially when coupled with the idea of risks. Then Colvin warned the lady not to talk so loudly, which showed he was conscious of the danger of being overheard. The tentative conclusion to draw from this was that the job, whatever it was, was not an innocent one.”

“Too many was's about it, but it sounds reasonable on the face of it,” said Ricardo, rubbing his hands excitedly, for his interest was now thoroughly roused.

“From that moment I began to sit up. To use your own expression, I smelled a rat, and though I went on reading I was all ears for any further morsel of information. It was not long before Mrs. Mesado told Colvin that she detested the man Dias, expressed her opinion that he was a crook and accused Dick of sponging on him for drinks.”

“He's a sponger all right, but not at all selective. A mass sponger you might say. And then?”

“The conversation became inaudible once more.”

“Damn it, Algernon, you're a born serialist. Get on with the yarn. I'm pining for the next instalment.”

“Well, for some minutes I could hear nothing clearly, and then Mrs. Mesado in a very excited voice exclaimed, ‘Dick, Dick, Maureen's necklace has gone!' Dick asked her which necklace, and was told that it was the necklace that Guillermo had given her. ‘The one that caused all the trouble,' were her words, to be exact.”

“Of course you know that Guillermo is Mrs. Mesado's husband,” exclaimed Ricardo.

“Yes. I have to thank you for that bit of information. You've already been a great help. But who is Maureen?”

“Ah, now I know the reason of your eagerness to know who Maureen is. I can't tell you at the moment, but leave that line of inquiry to me. What a pity your old friend Detective-Inspector Heather isn't here! He'd solve the problem without your assistance and save you all the trouble.”

A wry smile stole over Vereker's thoughtful face as his memory travelled back over the famous cases in which he and Heather had been good-natured rivals.

“It's not a case which would suit Heather's peculiar genius. He always blames me for exercising a too lively imagination. He prefers something concrete to work on, and so far I'm working entirely on conjecture. But to return to the subject, there was evidently a violent quarrel and a scuffle between Colvin and Mrs. Mesado in No. 89 tonight, and the very word ‘murder' was mentioned.”

“At what time was this, Algernon?”

“That's a pertinent question. I can't be exact, but a little before two o'clock. As I was working purely on conjecture and didn't expect anything so serious as Mrs. Mesado's death, I was rather lax in noting the exact time. One point, however, I can be definite about: just after you discovered her body on D deck it was four bells of the middle watch.”

“And pray what time was that?”

“If you were sea-minded you'd know it was two o'clock in the morning.”

“And you mean to say she was alive between one-thirty and two o'clock?”

“Of that I'm positive. We can take it for granted that it was sudden death, rather too sudden to be innocent, unless of course it was heart failure.”

“Looks pretty fishy when you come to think of it, especially after a row and a struggle,” remarked Ricardo, and for some minutes both men sat in silence, lost in their own thoughts.

“I wish Macpherson hadn't been so eager to get rid of us after he had summoned the Colvins,” said Vereker at length. “I'd have given something to see Colvin's immediate reaction to the news of Mrs. Mesado's death. It might have been informative. I suppose the doctor was being tactful.”

“Yes, I know—the old hush-hush trick. Do you think there'll be any sort of private inquiry tomorrow?”

“It all depends on Macpherson and Captain Partridge. They may be satisfied by such explanation as the Colvins can give, and we may hear little or nothing further about the matter. If the skipper is inclined to discuss the subject of Mrs. Mesado's death with me I may be able to get him thinking. But we must tread very warily, Ricky. This affair will certainly make Partridge use nautical language even if he only soliloquises. You see, he has the success of this cruise to think about. His responsibility is a heavy one. He's answerable to his company in the first place, and naturally a pleasure cruise isn't a joy ride for them; it's a commercial undertaking, with profits as the main issue. Partridge's job is navigation, and that's a big enough job without the addition of a murder mystery on board his ship. If there's anything fishy about Mrs. Mesado's death he'll be obliged to take notice of it. He's literally between the devil and the deep sea.”

“I see your argument, Algernon, but Macpherson annoyed me tonight. I'd take a delight in shaking his self-assurance. He simply asks to be baited.”

“Now, Ricky, for Heaven's sake go canny with Macpherson. You'd better leave him to me. I'll manage him better than you. He's inclined to be friendly with me in his dour Scots way, and I'll profit by it. We've got to keep in mind that this affair of Mrs. Mesado is really no concern of ours. To me of course it presents a problem to be solved. The question of culpability or punishment isn't strictly my affair, though I may have to take steps eventually in the cause of common justice. But I'm determined to solve the problem whatever may happen.”

“Well, I'm determined to go to bed and sleep in spite of everything. I'd clean forgotten the ship's siren in my preoccupation with this business. Lord! What a row! He must have been a humorist who called that infernal instrument a siren, after a sea nymph with a melodious voice. A minor key is always a major irritant to me.”

“What time are you going to get up, Ricky?” asked Vereker as he commenced to undress again.

“Depends on when I fall asleep. I asked the steward to bring tea at six-thirty. It's now three o'clock. You'll see me at breakfast in any case; I'm feeling hungry already.”

“I'd like to see you fairly early. I shall have several odd jobs for you tomorrow and you'll need all your wits about you, so try and get a couple of hours' sound sleep.”

“It'll be sleep in spite of the sound, Algernon. Good night!”

“Good night!”

I

To put it very mildly, this is a damned nuisance, Mac,” said Captain Partridge to the doctor.

They were closeted together in the master's cabin not long after the doctor had interviewed Mr. and Mrs. Colvin and told them briefly that Mrs. Mesado was dead. They had thrown off all official restraint and were chatting very confidentially with one another.

“I agree,” replied Doctor Macpherson curtly as he lit a cigar.

“Any nasty complications from our point of view?” asked the captain quietly as he flung off his cap and ran his fingers through his thick grey hair.

“On the face of it, no. The Colvins—Mrs. Colvin, by the way, is the dead woman's sister—say that she was suffering from heart disease and knew herself that she might have a fatal seizure at any moment.”

“What d'you think yourself?”

“Considering the circumstances it might be advisable for me to think they're right.”

“I see your point,” remarked the captain slowly. “Do you think there's anything not quite straight in the business? Suicide for instance?”

“Might be suicide, but that would be clear only after a post-mortem examination.”

“Suicides are a bit of a nuisance. I've had four of them in my time. Three on the ‘Nereid', my last ship. In every case they occurred the day before we put into port. The poor devil who's sick of the world dreads the very sight of land. The choice of time in each case was rather convenient, because I put the body ashore next day and sent my coded message to the company, as well as my report to the Home Office, before I forgot all the particulars.”

“Speaking professionally, there's something not quite straight in this case. I don't altogether like the look of it,” said the doctor reflectively.

“Between you and me and the binnacle, what d'you think's wrong, Mac? You needn't mince matters. We're alone.”

“It's terribly difficult to say just off-hand. I'm not so sure about that heart disease.”

“But the Colvins say it was heart disease, and they ought to know.”

“That's true.”

“Well, then that's good enough for us. Simple case of death at sea. Who found the body on D deck?”

“Your young friend Ricardo, and he summoned his pal Vereker. Ricardo collected the night steward, Fuller, who dug me out, explained matters, and I went straight to where Mrs. Mesado's body lay on the starboard side of D deck. Fuller and Vereker carried the body to the lady's cabin, No. 89 on the same deck. By this time life was extinct. Cautioning Vereker and Ricardo to keep their own counsel owing to the nature of the trip, I dismissed them tactfully and told Fuller to bring in the Colvins.”

“They were terribly upset of course...”

“Yes, but they gave me to understand that they knew that such a seizure might occur at any moment. They say the patient took a digitalis preparation for her ailment, but after a search I could find none of the medicine among her things.”

“Is digitalis poisonous?” asked the captain gruffly.

“Very much so, and the worst of it is that the effects vary with different people.”

“I suppose you've just mugged that up in your library,” commented the captain, smiling.

“Well, yes, a man can't remember everything, though my memory's a first-rate one as far as memories go.”

“Most Scots have good memories. They haven't forgotten the Battle of Culloden yet. Could she have taken an over-dose?”

“Possibly, but in that case she'd probably have been deadly sick prior to death. Again, if Mrs. Mesado was in the habit of taking a digitalis preparation she might have died from the cumulative effects. In such a case a patient may go into a fainting fit and die without any warning. What's more, there'd be no appreciable post-mortem sign. These vegetable poisons are tricky things. You never know exactly where you are with them.”

“That's good enough, then, from the Green Star's point of view, Mac. As far as we can judge it's an unfortunate occurrence, perfectly straightforward, and it's no damn good your getting mysterious about it. Has the lady a husband alive?”

“Yes; she's English by birth, but married to a very wealthy Argentine.”

“Where's her husband?”

“They don't know at the moment. There seems to have been a bit of a rumpus some weeks ago, and the husband went off in a huff. The lady was evidently used to his nasty habits and didn't trouble herself about his departure. She shut up her house in Sussex and decided to console herself with a cruise aboard this ship.”

“Usual burial unless they want to take the body home or bury it in Lisbon. We've no facilities for keeping a corpse in any of the refrigerators.”

“The sister says she'll take all responsibility on behalf of her sister's husband, and wishes a speedy burial at sea. They can't communicate with Mesado by wireless because they don't know where he is, although they think he may have gone to Buenos Aires.”

“She's a sensible woman. You've explained, Mac, that it's not desirable to make a public function of the burial?”

“Yes, yes, I took care to put that aspect of the affair very clearly. They agreed with me wholeheartedly.”

“Excellent. We'll bury her tomorrow night. Beyond her relatives it won't be necessary to have anybody else present, though I dare say some of the passengers will find out and put in an appearance where they're not wanted.”

“They like burials at sea as a rule,” commented the doctor dryly.

“Well, they're jolly well not going to get one this trip,” replied the captain firmly. “We'll drop her overboard tomorrow night. Bit of a nuisance. Dancers and card players hang about the ship till all hours. Damn these cruises. We've been turned into variety entertainers. We're no longer seamen.”

Doctor Macpherson was silent for some moments, smoking lugubriously.

“There was one rum thing about the body that I could not quite understand,” he remarked at length.

“What the devil was that?” asked the captain, casting a troubled glance in the doctor's direction.

“She was wearing a pair of chamois leather gloves. I took these off and found that both hands were very badly cut and bruised. A valuable ring on one of her fingers had had some of its stones knocked out.”

“How did you account for that?” asked the master sharply.

“I didn't account for it,” replied the doctor.

“Well, what had the Colvins to say about it?” asked the captain impatiently.

“They said Mrs. Mesado had a motor smash on the way from London to Tilbury, and had thrust her hands through the windscreen of the car she was driving.”