by Jack Treby
Harry gestured to the many bottles on the shelves. ‘He’s got a drop of just about everything in here.’
‘But how did you administer it?’
‘He provided me with a small phial. I just mixed it in with a glass of water.’
‘From that jug on the bedside table?’ I sipped my brandy.
‘That’s right. But the doc didn’t want to be around when I did it. We’d had a bit of a talk, that evening, after supper.’ When Harry had left the dance floor. Miss Wellesley had said he had been gone for a good twenty minutes. ‘We agreed to go ahead with the thing, and he said he’d prepare the phial for me and stash it in one of the cisterns in the men’s bathroom, just opposite. That way, no one would see him going anywhere near my cabin. Anyway, I went to bed and then sneaked out in the early hours to pick it up.’ That would have been at about six am, according to the steward. ‘Then I waited until I heard them knocking on the doors later on, to change the bedsheets. That must have been about nine. I drank the potion and that was that.’
‘Did it hurt?’ I asked, finishing off the brandy.
‘No. I was out like a light. I don’t remember anything about it. The plan was for the steward to find me, lying there. He’d knock on the door and open it up, and then see the body.’
‘He was in on it, was he?’
‘No, no, it would just be the regular cabin steward. He’d raise the alarm, and the doc would be along to pronounce me dead.’
‘But as it transpired, it was Mrs O’Neill who found you, not the steward.’
‘Yeah, that was unexpected. But it didn’t matter. Armstrong was on the scene straight away, just as we’d planned. He was able to clean everything up.’ Including, presumably, washing the glass tumbler and returning it to the sink. He had lied outright to me about that. ‘He examined me, with the head steward watching, and then got me moved downstairs for the autopsy as quick as he could.’
‘You mean, before the drug wore off.’
‘Yeah.’
‘But he couldn’t have carried you all the way down here on his own. Didn’t anyone notice anything amiss, when they moved the body?’
‘No. He had a little help from this other guy, Albert Staines.’
‘The man who helped you with the pearls?’
‘That’s right. He’s one of the crew. I’ve known him for a while. He owed me a favour and he was happy to help out, no questions asked.’ That was how Harry operated, of course. Favours given and returned, with the odd bit of cash to oil the wheels. ‘A bit of dough on top, and a drop of Canadian whiskey.’ It seemed to work well for him, most of the time.
‘So he and Armstrong brought you down here and then the doctor pretended to perform a post mortem?’
‘Sure. And it all went like clockwork. I woke up in the early afternoon, with one hell of a headache. And Al had prepared a room for me in the closet back there.’ He jerked his thumb at the cupboard behind the screen. ‘He makes sure I’m comfortable. There’s a wash room just over there, when no-one’s about. And there’s plenty of food. I’ve slept in worse places.’
‘That I can believe. But what about the body? They must have still needed a corpse, to put on display. Surely you couldn’t just disappear completely?’
‘No, not entirely. But nobody keeps tabs on the deceased. They have a special place set aside for passengers who’ve croaked – a cold store – and the doc is in charge of the key. And that, you’ll be happy to know, was where the late G Harrington Latimer came to rest. At least, temporarily.’
‘But what about the funeral. How on earth...?’
‘Well now...’ Harry smirked. ‘The doc is a man of many talents. You know, every trip out, he gives a lecture to some of the passengers, out of the kindness of his heart.’
I frowned, not quite following. ‘On human anatomy. Yes, I know. My man was there the other day. But I don’t see...’
‘He has a special demonstration model, a mannequin he uses to illustrate the talks. Usually, it hangs on the hook out there in the waiting room. It’s one of those anatomical models, you know the sort, cut open so that you can see the insides.’ Maurice had mentioned to me that they used models to illustrate their talks. ‘He drags it out for each lecture, so that he can explain exactly what he’s talking about.’ Harry chuckled. ‘I guess he’s going to have to get himself a new one.’
‘You wrapped up a mannequin and got them to bury that instead of you?’
‘Neat, huh? We had to add a bit of ballast, to get the right weight distribution, But yeah, essentially, that was it. We wrapped up the dummy, Al and I, and we were ready to go.’
‘And nobody noticed anything odd about that either? Nobody asked any awkward questions?’
‘Why would they? Nobody touched the body except Al and the doc. The other guys just helped to carry the litter. And if anyone asked about the mannequin, he could just tell them it was on its last legs and had to be put into storage.’
‘So the whole funeral, the body, the sea burial, it was a complete sham?’
‘An important sham. It convinced those goons that I really was swimming with the fishes. And it meant there would be no awkward questions when we got to Southampton.’
‘It was Doctor Armstrong who convinced the captain to allow a sea burial,’ I recalled.
Harry laughed. ‘Now you understand.’
‘But dear God, Harry don’t you realise what you put us through? What you put me through?’
‘Hilary! I didn’t know you cared.’
‘I don’t,’ I snapped. ‘I just didn’t want to have to deal with all the paperwork.’
‘Hey, don’t be short with me, old man. I only did to you what you did to me.’
He had a point there, I supposed. ‘Yes, but at least I turned up to your bloody funeral. You only sent a bunch of flowers.’ He looked away. ‘You did send a wreathe to my funeral?’
‘Of course I did, old man. Well, I intended to, but things ran away with themselves. And besides, you weren’t even dead.’
‘No. No, I wasn’t. And neither were you.’ I shook my head angrily. I had never met such an insensitive soul. ‘So what’s to stop me going outside now and announcing to the whole world that Harry Latimer is alive and well?’
The smile vanished. ‘I don’t think that would be a good idea.’
‘People are dead because of you, Harry.’
‘Hey, I had nothing to do with what happened to Mrs O’Neill.’
‘I’m not talking about Mrs O’Neill. I’m talking about those postal workers.’
‘Yeah, that was too bad. But sneaking on me won’t bring anyone back now, will it?’
I let out a sigh. ‘I’m not going to “sneak” on you Harry. You’re the biggest scoundrel I’ve ever met, but I...’ I closed my eyes. ‘I wouldn’t want to see you disappearing over the side of the ship. Not while I’m onboard, anyway.’
He grinned. ‘I knew I could rely on you, Hilary.’
A sudden, awkward thought occurred to me. ‘But what the devil am I supposed to tell London? They asked me to keep an eye on you. They’ll have heard about the funeral. The police in New York will have passed on the information, and they’re going to want to talk to me, when I get to Southampton, to find out exactly what happened. What on earth am I going to tell them?’
‘Tell them I’m dead. What harm can it do?’
‘That’s all very well, Harry. But what happens when you turn up in a year or two, alive and well? I know you. You’re not the type to keep a low profile for long.’
Harry was unperturbed. ‘Hey, just do what I do, old man. Deny everything. You thought I was dead. That’s true enough, isn’t it? You saw the body being laid to rest. What else were you supposed to think?’
‘You don’t leave me a lot of choice, do you?’
‘Hey, look, I just need a bit of breathing space, away from America. These things always blow over.’
‘And you’re sure these mafia fellows are convinced you’re dead?’
<
br /> ‘I’m sure. The doc was a bit spooked this afternoon when one of them called on him, but I figure the guy was just sizing him up, making sure he was on the level. When you turned up five minutes later, he was properly spooked. He thought you must have guessed the truth.’
‘I was becoming suspicious, after what happened to Mrs O’Neill. But I would never had imagined he could be involved in anything like this. Poisonous toads, for goodness sake. No, I thought he must have been in league with those two men. I thought they might have leaned on him to help cover things up, after they’d bumped you off.’
‘Not a bad theory.’
‘But nowhere near the truth’ I stared down at the brandy bottle. ‘I don’t seem to be getting any better at this sort of thing.’
‘You found me.’
‘You sent me a note. Or one of your accomplices did.’
‘That was the doc. I got him to act as postman.’
‘And I certainly wouldn’t have been creeping about on E Deck at this time in the evening if you hadn’t done.’ I pulled out my pocket watch. It was just gone eleven thirty.
A clunk echoed from somewhere out on deck. It sounded like the elevator, across the way. Harry rose up from his seat in alarm.
‘It’s all right,’ I reassured him. ‘It’ll just be someone from the Reynolds Suite coming down to fetch the cat. I told my man to let them know she was here. Don’t worry, I’ve locked both the doors. They won’t look in here.’
Harry resumed his seat.
‘So why did you bring me down here anyway? Why confess the whole sordid truth, after all this time? It’s not like you to own up to anything, Harry. It can’t just be because Doctor Armstrong was spooked.’
‘Oh, it was partly that. You telling Griffith about that glass on the bedside table didn’t help either. The doc was worried if you kept fishing, you might draw the wrong kind of attention. If anyone finds out he’s faked a death certificate, he won’t just be struck off the medical register, he’ll end up in jail. And I still need him to get me off the ship when we get to Southampton. But you’re right, I had another reason for wanting to talk to you.’
‘You wanted to confess your sins and apologise to me for all the grief you’ve caused.’
‘Well, of course, old man. That goes without saying. But no, it’s this business with Mrs O’Neill.’
‘You saw her, did you, when...when they brought her down here?’
‘They laid her out on the table here.’ He patted the top gently. ‘She’s in the cold store now. But yeah, I had a quick look. Afterwards, when the place was empty. It wasn’t pleasant. She was still wearing those pearls of hers, when they wheeled the body in.’
‘I’m surprised you didn’t whip them.’
Harry pretended to be hurt. ‘I do have some scruples, old man. Respect for the dead and all that. Besides, they’d have been missed.’
‘And you didn’t have the reproductions to hand, to swap them with.’
‘No, they were back in my cabin.’
‘Actually, Mr Griffith confiscated them. I think he guessed what you’d been up to.’
‘Smart guy. But sadly, it was too late for that. And the last thing I wanted was to draw any attention to this place.’
‘And Mrs O’Neill? How much do you know about all that?’
‘As much as you do, old man. A little less, probably. I didn’t know about the pen letters until the doc mentioned them to me. I wish you’d told me about that.’
‘I barely knew myself, the first day out. Only the note your Miss Wellesley showed me.’ I grimaced, remembering how upset the young woman had been to learn of Harry’s death. ‘What would she think if she could see you here now?’
‘Kinder not to tell her. One thing I don’t understand, though. Why would she confide in you, rather than me?’
‘She obviously thought I had a more sympathetic ear. Your charms are not universal, Harry.’ I gazed down at the empty glasses on the bed. ‘No, in point of fact, it was because I already knew something about it. About the hoax, I mean. Miss Wellesley gave me an account of their conversation with the police, the night of the bomb. She knew I would understand.’
‘I figured it was something like that. But these letters, all these crazy notes that have been going around, it got me thinking...’
‘How you’d misjudged Mrs O’Neill? How she wasn’t the light touch you thought she was?’
‘That’s just it,’ Harry said. ‘I reckon I’m a pretty shrewd judge of character. In my line of work, you have to be. Usually, I can size someone up in a couple of minutes. And this just doesn’t sit right with me. Mrs O’Neill wasn’t the brooding type. She wasn’t one to sit on her feelings. It was all on the surface. Or most of it.’
‘Don’t be so sure. She had you sussed out, Harry. She knew you were a bounder. She just didn’t care.’
‘Everyone loves a scoundrel.’ Harry grinned. ‘She thought I was after her money. She teased me about it, thought I was looking to marry into it. She had no idea I was after the necklace.’
‘So she wasn’t that bright after all.’
‘Well, that’s what I mean. I don’t think she was capable of writing these sorts of letters.’
‘The evidence is pretty damning. It was her typewriter that was used.’
‘I know, I know. But from what I hear, everybody had access to that.’
‘Yes, back at her house. But...’
‘And that’s what got me thinking. It was something I saw, the morning we boarded the ship. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. I didn’t know about the letters then. That’s why I thought I ought to talk to you, old man. You see, I’m pretty sure Mrs O’Neill wasn’t responsible for any of it.’
‘If not her, then who?’
‘You’ll think I’m crazy, but I think it may have been the Reverend Hamilton-Baynes.’
‘The vicar?’ I laughed. ‘But he wouldn’t....’
‘Oh, I can’t prove it. But the thing is, I saw him. That morning, after the hoax. We were all staying at the Waldorf Astoria. I couldn’t sleep that night, so I came down early to the bar for a coffee. It must have been half past five, six o’clock in the morning. And I saw him out in the foyer, leaving the hotel.’
‘Leaving? At half past five in the morning? That is odd,’ I admitted. ‘Did he see you?’
‘I don’t think so. I was over at the bar. He was dressed kind of funny, though. Not wearing the dog collar, or even a coat. I mean, Jesus, at this time of year. ‘
‘Perhaps he was going out for a morning run,’ I suggested.
‘In New York? Are you serious?’
‘Some people do, I understand. He is the athletic sort. I wouldn’t put it past him.’
Harry shrugged. ‘I suppose it’s possible. But anyway, forty, forty-five minutes later, I was still at the bar, and he comes back in, looking pretty beat up. Face all red, what you could see of it with that great beard of his. And it occurred to me: the Alderley Hotel – where you and Mrs O’Neill were staying – it’s only a few blocks north of the Waldorf. What if he slipped out of the hotel, delivered that note Cynthia found and then came straight back?’
I considered the idea. ‘It’s not impossible. But it would have have been a hell of a risk. Anyone might have seen him, if he was creeping about the Alderley at that hour.’
‘He might not have gone up to the room himself. He could have just slipped the bellboy a dollar or two.’
‘And risk being identified?’ That seemed unlikely to me.
‘But he had the opportunity, that’s what I’m saying. And if he did write that note, then he must have been behind the bomb too. The two things were connected, weren’t they?’
‘Yes. “NEXT TIME IT WILL NOT BE A HOAX”. That’s what the note said.’
‘Well, exactly. And if the padre was targeting Mrs O’Neill before we even set sail, then I figure he might just as easily have bumped her off a day or two later.’
The vicar’s raised posterior
was not a sight I expected to see at any time of day, less still at a quarter to midnight. The Reverend Hamilton-Baynes was on all fours, shuffling across the carpeted floor at the base of the central staircase. I hesitated at the sight of the strange, bearded man as he moved, an arm extended, towards the beechwood chair on the nearside of the stairs. ‘Here puss, puss!’ he cooed, oblivious to his own absurdity. ‘Here puss, puss!’ I regarded him for a moment in the half light, his beard visible from the side, as he waggled his fingers unselfconsciously in front of him, unaware that he was being observed from the door of the doctor’s waiting room.
I slid a hand down into my trouser pocket to make sure Maurice’s penknife was still accessible. I was not wholly convinced by Harry’s theory – the business of the typewriter was an obvious sticking point – but there was no point taking any chances.
I coughed politely to alert the vicar to my presence. ‘You’ve found her then?’ I called out across the foyer. It was just my luck that the older man had been sent down to retrieve the cat.
Hamilton-Baynes looked round, unperturbed at the sudden noise. His face lit up at the sight of me, his large white teeth a veritable lighthouse beaming out of that heavy beard. ‘Never trust a man who smiles that much,’ Harry had said, which was rich, coming from him; but at the moment, I could see his point. The American, of course, was now safely tucked away in his cupboard, while I was out here a couple of yards away from a potential source of danger.
‘Yes, at last. You’ve led us a merry dance haven’t you?’ The reverend chuckled. Matilda was hiding under the chair. Hamilton-Baynes reached a hand underneath the seat, but the cat hissed and spat at him, before retreating to the next chair along. ‘Dear me. I think this may be a little tricky.’ His teeth flashed again. ‘Cats. Not really my field. Beautiful animal, though. A gorgeous coat, don’t you think?’ He pulled back his hand. ‘I don’t suppose you’re any good with them?’
‘No, I’m afraid not. That little monster would gouge my eyes out if she had half a chance.’
The vicar rose to his feet, and dusted down his kneecaps. ‘She is rather a handful,’ he agreed, cheerfully. He was quite a tall fellow, Hamilton-Baynes, lean and well-balanced. All that exercise had put him in good stead. He was not someone I would want to face in a boxing ring. ‘Jocelyn didn’t want the stewards handling her, so of course I volunteered to help out. Spot of cat and mouse before bedtime. Super fun. Although I suspect Mr Hopkins doesn’t agree. He was running all over B Deck looking for her, until your man came and told us she was down here.’
