The Pleasure Cruise Mystery

by Robin Forsythe

  “How do you know they belong to her sister, Algernon?”

  “They have the initials C. C. in indelible pencil on the inside of the gauntlets. I presume those initials stand for Constance Colvin. The fact led me to deduce that the sisters wore the same size and type of glove. I found a pair of chamois leather gauntlets of exactly the same make and size in the drawer of Mrs. Mesado’s cabin dressing table, and they were marked B. M. They must have got their gloves mixed up on some previous occasion and decided to initial them.”

  “But you said that Constance’s gloves were much too big for Beryl,” suddenly remarked Ricardo. “How could they get them mixed up?”

  “That’s a pertinent question, Ricky,” replied Vereker. “I have a little theory up my sleeve on that score. In any case chamois leather gloves are washable and often shrink badly. Some women can’t stand tight gloves for walking or exercise; others like them to fit very neatly, so that it makes the point a difficult one to theorise on. Still I’m glad you spotted the weakness. It’s strange that the gloves in the drawer were of the same size as those on the dead woman’s hands, but we’ll leave the question of gloves for a moment and return to our review. Mrs. Mesado comes on board and never troubles to bandage the injured hands or get them properly dressed. She came down to dinner the other night with or without gloves, a fact which neither you nor I were able to observe. Now, about the lies. In the first place, I’m certain that Mrs. Mesado didn’t drive a car from a scrutiny of her shoes. You find an impossible discrepancy in Gautier’s description of the car skidding and smashing the right-hand side of the windscreen. Gautier says the accident took place at Rainham. Mrs. Colvin says at Stifford, which is not on the direct road from London to Tilbury. I am certain I saw Mrs. Mesado’s left hand uninjured and wearing a signet ring on the little finger the day she arrived on the ‘Mars’ Gautier says she never wore a signet ring. You say I may have mistaken Mrs. Colvin for Mrs. Mesado. This is not likely, for Mrs. Colvin’s hair is platinum and Mrs. Mesado’s light golden. Still it’s a minor point. There was a quarrel and scuffle in Mrs. Mesado’s cabin between her and Colvin long after one o’clock. Colvin says he never saw his sister-in-law after ten. Mrs. Colvin contradicts this inadvertently in conversation with me by saying she left her sister’s cabin at one o’clock, and that she left her husband there with Mrs. Mesado to discuss some business matter. Further, there is some extraordinary confusion about Mrs. Mesado’s lost necklace. The one the Colvins say is missing consists of alternate cinnamon and white diamonds; the one Mrs. Mesado wore, which was flung into my cabin through the window, consists of white diamonds and has a completely different clasp. Gautier, her companion and maid, who ought to know, describes the one I have in my possession as missing. Mrs. Mesado is apparently well, say, at one-thirty, and is dead shortly after two o’clock. Altogether this is a pretty kettle of fish!”

  “A basket of live eels, Algernon. What do you make of it?”

  “Never mind that for the moment. Did you question Gautier about anyone called Maureen?”

  “I trod very warily and brought the conversation round to Christian names. Said I liked Maureen best after Renée. Perhaps it was too blatant; she didn’t bite greedily, but later remarked that personally she had never known anyone called Maureen. It wasn’t a hearty statement. Reminded me of a cat treading on a wet pavement.”

  “Strange! As a matter of fact we know that Guillermo Mesado gave a certain Maureen a necklace which was the cause of some trouble unknown to us. From the conversation I overheard that necklace is also missing. Does that suggest anything to you, Ricky?”

  “It seems to show clearly that two necklaces are missing, and I deduce—it’s not often I condescend to deduce—that the one that belonged to Maureen was the cinnamon and white diamond affair.”

  “You’re improving, Ricky,” remarked Vereker, his face brightening with a smile.

  “I’m glad you observe it, but I can’t see that my brilliant inference leads us up to anything tangible. It doesn’t solve the mystery of Mrs. Mesado’s sudden death.”

  “It goes a long way to clearing up things. I want you to pump Miss Penteado about the Mesados’ friends and relations and see if you can put your finger on Maureen. She possibly knows who this Maureen is. I may be leaving you tomorrow at Lisbon. There’s no time to lose.”

  “What? You don’t mean to say you’re going to cut short your trip?”

  “I’ve not quite decided, but it’s probable. I want you to stay on the ‘Mars’ and carry on with the work of investigation.”

  “Investigation or no investigation, I’m going to stay on board the ‘Mars’. I’m not going to cut short the only holiday I’ve had in ten years for a bit of detective enthusiasm on your part. I’m going to see Ceuta, smell Tangiers and die, emulate Chopin at Mallorca, dine at the Ritz in Barcelona, where there are nuts and nut-brown dancing girls. Strewth! who’d swap the sinuous grace of an Andalusian dancer for criminal investigation? Not Manuel Ricardo!”

  “Don’t get heated, Ricky.”

  “By comparison the game of detection leaves me cold, Algernon.”

  “I thought you were getting interested?”

  “We’ll say lukewarm; it’s not a ruling passion.”

  “Are you going to see Miss Penteado tonight?”

  “If I can out-manoeuvre Dias and detach myself from Renée with my usual grace. I’m going to pop into Renée’s cabin this afternoon to see some of her photographs of Buenos Aires.”

  “By jingo, you’re making giant strides with the lady. Keep your eyes wide open. Once you’re in her cabin look round discreetly and try and pocket one or two of her photos of Buenos Aires.”

  “You mean pinch them?”

  “If it’s necessary.”

  “Algernon, you’re dishonest in the cause of justice. I could only be so for the sake of gain. I might ask her for them.”

  “Do so, but keep your own fingers off the surfaces. I want the lady’s finger prints if possible.”

  “And I’d like the impress of her lips,” remarked Ricardo as together they repaired to the dining saloon.

  Chapter Seven

  I

  After lunch Ricardo strolled up to the lounge for coffee, while Vereker retired to his cabin and rang for the steward. The day steward, Dyson, appeared a few minutes later.

  “Oh, Dyson, I’d like a cup of coffee if you could get me one.”

  “Very good, sir,” replied Dyson, and later on reappeared with a tray.

  “I’m thinking of leaving the ‘Mars’ tomorrow night at Lisbon, Dyson. I believe we arrive just before dinner. I shall have my bag packed and ready, and I want to get off the ship immediately the gangway is fixed up,” said Vereker.

  “You’re not going to complete the trip, sir?” asked Dyson with a pretence at interest.

  “No, and I’d like you to have my bag in the vestibule so that I can be one of the first down the gangway. Time’s rather important. Will you see to that?”

  “Certainly, sir,” replied Dyson and was about to leave the cabin.

  “Just a minute, Dyson. I’m rather absentminded when I’m in a hurry and might forget to tip you at the last moment. I’ll do so now.”

  Vereker drew a pound from his wallet and handed it to the steward, who thanked him profusely.

  “I’m sorry you’re not coming with us, sir,” he said on a grateful note.

  “Can’t be helped, Dyson, I’m on business. Sad affair this in the next cabin.”

  “Shockin’, sir, shockin’. I didn’t know you were aware of it.”

  “Oh, yes, I happened to be on deck when a friend of mine discovered the body.”

  “That so, sir,” commented Dyson. “Of course we’re not supposed to talk about what happens on the ship.”

  “A necessary precaution; the affair doesn’t concern the rest of the passengers. Did you see much of the dead lady?”

  “Very little, sir. About twice, and only for a few minutes, in Mr. and Mrs. Colvin’s ca
bin. She seemed to be a very nice party.”

  “Yes, I thought so too. By the way, did you notice if her hands were injured when you saw her first?”

  “Not to my knowledge, sir. I think I’d have spotted it.”

  “She might have been wearing a pair of chamois leather gloves to keep the dirt out of her wounds.”

  “I’m sure she wasn’t, sir. I’d bet on that.”

  “Good! And did you notice what kind of costume she wore?”

  “Yes, sir, a black and white check. Very smart. I remember that because my missus got me to buy her a rig-out like that when I was ashore last. Got it at the Bon Marché in Brixton.”

  “I see you keep your eyes open, Dyson. Have you seen anybody enter her cabin during the day except her sister and brother-in-law?”

  “Her maid’s travelling with her, sir. She used to come and go when she pleased. Rather a stuck-up piece to my mind. The stewardess, Dibdin, would know more than me. I only cleaned out the lady’s cabin.”

  “Have a quiet talk with Dibdin and find out what she knows. Be discreet and don’t appear too inquisitive. I was very interested in the dead lady.”

  “We’ve already talked it over between us, sir. Dibdin says she got a terrible shock, because as far as she could see the lady was hale and hearty last night, and Martin, the night stewardess, was perfectly certain she saw Mrs. Mesado run up the companion and on to D deck about two o’clock in the morning. She was found dead a few minutes later. Now Fuller, the night steward, said he saw Mr. Colvin carry the lady up on deck in a dead faint half an hour before that.”

  “She may have recovered and gone up again later, Dyson.”

  “That’s how we explained it, sir. But Fuller says, and rightly so, ‘’Ow about the lady’s ’ands?’ Dibdin says her hands were not cut when she came aboard. She noticed it particular because the lady varnished ’er nails bright red—a norrible thing in my opinion. I don’t ’old with such fashions. My missus tried it on once, but I gave her a bit o’ my mind. Makes even a real lady look like a fast baggage.”

  “Thanks, Dyson, that’s all I wanted to know. You needn’t trouble to question Dibdin. I’ll possibly see Fuller tonight. I want to give him something for his trouble before I go.”

  “Thank you, sir,” replied Dyson and, feeling that he was no longer needed, was about to depart.

  “I suppose they’ve removed the body to the ship’s hospital, Dyson?” asked Vereker suddenly.

  “Took it up to the sick bay this morning, sir. If you’d like to see Fuller now, sir, I’ll try and get ’old of him.”

  “Good. I may miss him otherwise. Send him along if possible.”

  Dyson vanished, and about a quarter of an hour later a knock sounded on Vereker’s cabin door.

  “Dyson told me you wanted to see me, sir.”

  “I’ll be in a hurry tomorrow, Fuller; I’m going ashore at Lisbon. I’ll give you your tip now,” said Vereker and handed Fuller a note.

  “Thank you, sir. Is there anything else?”

  “There’s a question I’d like to ask you, Fuller, and it concerns the lady whose body we carried down from D deck to her cabin last night, or rather just after two o’clock this morning. I know you’ve been told not to discuss the matter, so you needn’t answer the question unless you like. But I’m interested in Mrs. Mesado; it’s more idle curiosity than anything else.”

  “Depends upon the question, sir.”

  “Nothing like being discreet, Fuller, but it’s not a very deadly question. Did you see Mrs. Mesado last night after you came on duty?”

  “Only once, sir. I saw Mr. Colvin carry her up the companion in a dead faint at one-thirty.”

  “When did he return to his cabin?”

  “Almost immediately. The lady must have come-to quickly and he left her, I should say, on deck to recover properly.”

  “You’re fairly certain about the time?”

  “Positive, sir. Three bells of the middle watch, that’s one-thirty as you’d call it.”

  “Did you see Mrs. Mesado come down again?”

  “No, sir, but Martin, the night stewardess, says she saw her run up again quickly just before two o’clock. Martin opines she must have thought she was going to take bad again and went up for air.”

  “It wasn’t Mrs. Colvin she saw? The two sisters are not unlike one another. Her sister may have gone up to see how she was getting on?”

  “Martin is positive it was Mrs. Mesado, because she was still wearing her diamond necklace.”

  “Was she in her evening gown?”

  “No, sir; Martin says she had changed into her black and white check costume.”

  “She was found dead in her blue georgette evening dress, and was certainly not wearing her necklace.”

  “True, sir, and that’s what makes me think Martin must have been half asleep and mistook Mrs. Colvin for Mrs. Mesado.”

  “Does Mrs. Colvin wear a diamond necklace?”

  “I couldn’t say, sir.”

  “Does Martin drink, Fuller?”

  “She likes her drop of Guinness, perhaps two of three drops, but never one over the eight so to speak, sir. It wouldn’t do aboard this ship.”

  “She might have had exactly eight drops last night?”

  “That’s not for me to say, sir.”

  “When you broke the news to the Colvins were they both up?”

  “Yes, sir, up and dressed. They hadn’t turned in.”

  “They were terribly upset, I suppose?”

  “The gentleman kept his head; the lady was hysterical, half laughing, half crying.”

  “Was she still in her evening gown?”

  For some moments Fuller was at a loss for a reply, apparently trying to recall to his memory the details of the scene. His brow was furrowed in thought, the forefinger and thumb of his right hand nervously rubbed his chin.

  “I’m blessed if I can remember, sir. I was so hot and bothered I didn’t look very carefully at either the lady or the gent.”

  “Was Mrs. Colvin wearing a necklace, Fuller? Try and recall.”

  “Ah now, sir, that reminds me; she was. They were crystal beads, because she tugged at them on hearing the news and they broke. She flung them on the bed and came along with her husband.”

  “Surely you can remember her dress, Fuller?”

  “I wouldn’t be positive, sir, but I think she had changed into a morning costume something like her sister’s. That’s how it strikes me now, but I wouldn’t be positive.”

  “Has Martin or Dibdin seen Mrs. Mesado’s body?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Mr. Colvin was in evening kit?”

  “Oh, yes, I remember that distinctly, sir. Dinner jacket.”

  “Thanks very much, Fuller. Don’t say anything to anybody about my seeing you on this matter. My friend Mr. Ricardo, in No. 87, is going to be with you for the trip. I want you to look after him, and if he’s inquisitive it’ll pay you to answer his questions. I shall come on board the ‘Mars’ on her return to London and will make a point of asking for you then. That’s all for the present.”

  II

  It was not more than a quarter of an hour after Fuller had departed that Colvin knocked at Vereker’s cabin door and entered. He was apparently still in a highly agitated state of mind, and even the whisky he had drunk during the morning had failed to steady his overwrought nerves. He looked to Vereker like a man who, having taken a desperate chance, is awaiting the result with a premonition of disaster. In his right-hand jacket pocket was a bottle of whisky, and in his left hand he carried a siphon of soda.

  “You’ll excuse my coming in with a little refreshment,” he said on entering, “but I feel as if I’d been sponging on you. I thought of asking you into my cabin, but Constance might come in at any moment and interrupt our talk. I’m relying on you for glasses.”

  Vereker produced two tumblers, and as Colvin poured out the whisky he noticed that his hand was trembling violently. Vereker himself had been loo
king forward to this interview with some trepidation, for he in turn was going to make a hazardous throw in the game in which he was now deeply involved. That throw, if unsuccessful, might render the rest of his self-imposed task of investigation futile, but he had given it careful thought and was sanguine of success. He accepted Colvin’s proffered drink with alacrity and asked his guest to be seated.

  “You wanted to see me, Vereker, about that missing necklace, I presume. Any luck?”

  “I might say yes and no,” replied Vereker, handing his cigarette case to his companion. “But before I go into that matter I should like to know a little more about Miss Gautier, Mrs. Mesado’s maid and companion.”

  “Fire away,” said Colvin with evident relief. “I don’t know too much about her myself, but I’ll do my best to answer your questions.”

  “Mrs. Mesado trusted her, I believe?”

  “Implicitly. Constance was always warning Beryl that she was too trustful.”

  “She was the only person permitted to enter Mrs. Mesado’s cabin except the steward and stewardess?”

  “That’s so.”

  “Had she the key to Mrs. Mesado’s jewel-case ever in her possession?”

  “That’s quite possible, but Beryl was usually careful to keep it on her person, seeing that her jewels were so valuable.”

  “Do you think it possible that she managed to steal Mrs. Mesado’s necklace?”

  “That would hardly be possible. You see, Gautier went to bed shortly after dinner last night and as far as we know never entered Beryl’s cabin after she had helped her to dress.”