The Pleasure Cruise Mystery

by Robin Forsythe

  “To tell the truth, I thought you were up to one of your usual silly pranks and wasn’t going to be caught. Then I concluded you weren’t good enough an actor to put on such a scared look, and I jumped to it. But tell me, Ricky, was it Mrs. Mesado you saw in a lover’s embrace on the first occasion?”

  “How the devil should I know? I only looked at the pair through the tail of my eye, but now you mention it the lady of my first encounter was certainly wearing a light-coloured dress. That’s as much as I can say for certain; it wasn’t a moment for kit inspection.”

  “That of course means nothing. Seventy-five per cent of the evening gowns worn at dinner tonight were pale tinted affairs. You couldn’t see who the man was?”

  “No, but he was much taller than the woman was as far as my recollection goes, His head was certainly bending down over her. I took it to be the conventional osculatory pose.”

  “It wasn’t Colvin, was it?” asked Vereker as if his thoughts were following some definite line of conjecture.

  “I don’t see how it could have been Colvin,” replied Ricardo. “In the first place he’s a very short, thick-set fellow, and certainly not much taller than Mrs. Mesado, though she’s a pocket Venus. Secondly, it’s not likely he’d be making love to his sister-in-law in such dangerous proximity to his wife. There are remoter nooks to make the world safe for infidelity. Still that’s an obvious point of view. Colvin may be of a different temper, like a street bookie I knew who used to work right in front of a police station.”

  “Was there anything unusual about Mrs. Mesado that caught your attention, Ricky?”

  “Well, I didn’t expect to find her lying full length on the deck to say the least of it.”

  “Yes, I know, I know, but was there anything about her clothes, shoes, face and general appearance that you found in any way remarkable?”

  “Let me see. I’m being put through a test for observation. In the first place, her dress, blue georgette, was the same as she wore at dinner last night. Her shoes were blue satin; I hadn’t spotted them previously. Her face had, of course, changed terribly; it seemed thinner, the cheeks were more sunken and it wore that indefinable expression which seizes a human face in death. As for her general appearance, her clothes looked as if they had been pulled about... she looked badly mauled.”

  “As if she had been struggling?” interrupted Vereker.

  “Exactly! But do you think there had been a struggle, Algernon?” asked Ricardo eagerly.

  “I was wondering. I noticed that her hair was all over the place.”

  “Yes, now that you mention it, I remember the fact distinctly. But, my hat, I nearly forgot a major point! She was wearing a pair of chamois leather gauntlets!”

  “Yes,” drawled Vereker in his pensive way, “I had a good look at them.”

  “But, Algernon, surely a woman doesn’t wear chamois leather gauntlets with an evening gown?”

  “I’m not a fashion expert, but I should say not. In Mrs. Mesado’s case, however, she had slipped them on for a definite purpose. While you were searching for Doctor Macpherson and I was alone with the body I yanked off those gloves, which by the way were much too large for her, and found the knuckles and fingers of both her hands cut and smashed very badly.”

  “Good Lord, that’s strange! How could she have come by her injuries?”

  “I’d like to know. The point, however, is when did she come by them. Did she wear those gloves at dinner?”

  “I didn’t see her at dinner tonight. I only met the lady once at close quarters, and that was in the alleyway. I was much too interested in her necklace to notice her hands.”

  “She wasn’t wearing that necklace when you found her lying on the deck, in any case, Ricky!”

  “No, by Jove, she wasn’t. I say, Algernon, do you think…?”

  “Tell me, Ricky, could you identify that necklace if you saw it again?”

  “Without fail. There was an emerald pendant attached, and the clasp on the back of her neck was a large emerald butterfly. I took particular notice of it.”

  “That’s satisfactory,” remarked Vereker, and rising from his chair began to pace slowly up and down the cabin. “It’s a great pity,” he added almost in soliloquy.

  “What’s a great pity?” asked Ricardo eagerly. He knew that his friend’s preoccupation was a sure indication that a significant problem had presented itself to him, and that he had encountered some difficulty.

  “It’s a great pity I never got the chance of seeing Mrs. Mesado close at hand. She always seemed anxious to avoid being seen too closely by her fellow passengers. Do you remember when I almost ran into her as she was about to leave her cabin?”

  “Very clearly. She damned you incontinently and swiftly disappeared. Didn’t you see her face on that occasion?”

  “No, merely the parting in her hair, the curve of a permanent wave, the line of a fine figure and a beautiful left hand holding a box of Players cigarettes.”

  “The hand was not in a glove?”

  “No. I saw it very distinctly even to a signet ring she wore on her little finger.”

  “Are you quite sure that it was Mrs. Mesado?”

  “I had no reason to think otherwise. Why?”

  “Because it may have been Mrs. Colvin. The latter’s not unlike her sister and wears a signet ring on the small finger of her left hand. I noticed that point when I was dancing with her.”

  “But does Mrs. Colvin wear a shepherd’s tartan tweed suit?”

  “Oh, yes, she was wearing one on the promenade deck this morning. A brown and white check; very smart I thought it.”

  “That complicates matters,” murmured Vereker as he slowly lit another cigarette, “but I’m almost certain that Mrs. Mesado’s was a black and white check, though it’d be dangerous to be positive considering the brief glance I got of her.”

  For some minutes the two men sat in ruminative silence. Then Ricardo, after helping himself to another whisky and soda, exclaimed: “Look here, Algernon, I know this mood of yours. You smell a rat. Personally I’ve never wanted to smell a rat, but I can see you think there’s some hugger-mugger behind the sudden death of Mrs. Mesado.”

  “I’ve gone beyond mere thinking, Ricky. I’m certain of it. I’m convinced there’s been murder!”

  “Good heavens, Algernon, you don’t mean to say it’s as serious as all that! What makes you suspect murder?”

  “Several incidents that have occurred since we started on this cruise. To avoid being mysterious about the business I’ve overheard remarks passed in Mrs. Mesado’s cabin by her and by Colvin, words spoken in distress or in anger, which at once roused my curiosity. To tell the truth, the bally cruise was boring me till I ran into the fringes of this mystery.”

  “Tell me exactly what you overheard, Algernon. I may be useful…”

  “Be patient, Ricky. You’re going to be useful all right. I shall ask you to help me as I’ve done on former occasions. There’s a mystery on board this ship, and I’m not going to rest till I get at the bottom of it.”

  “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 crimi
nals, 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!”

  Chapter Five

  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 quit
e 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.”