by Rose Donovan
“Neville, will you please come here?” asked Gustave, sitting at a table with a rather sullen-looking Dolores. She stared into her glass of whisky. Fina admitted a grudging admiration for Dolores’ tolerance of large quantities of alcohol. Sartorially, she looked marvellous, as always. Given her countenance, however, the large floral print evening dress and two-tone cape seemed to be wearing her, rather than the other way around.
Gustave licked his lips as he lifted his glass of wine to his mouth. His hand was shaking again. He certainly had a hearty appetite. Dolores kept offering him her untouched food, which he grabbed at with the look of a ravenous goat.
Sadie and Victor sat with Phillip and Gilbert. Emeline had asked to eat her dinner in her cabin, which she had volunteered as a recuperation space for Agnes. It was deemed to be more comfortable than the staff quarters. Violet also joined them to keep a watchful nurse’s eye on Agnes.
Both Sadie and Phillip had those pasted-on smiles with vacant stares which adults often use to pretend they’re paying attention to a child. Fina could tell that Victor wasn’t fooled. He didn’t really seem to care as ‘Wendell’ made little snorting noises and ploughed through a pile of untouched peas on his plate. Clearly, his mother would have frowned on this activity if she had been paying attention. Gilbert was watching the older boy, and soon enough he, too, had a little sheep that was merrily leaping about on a bed of fluffy rice. Fina smiled at this playfulness amidst the gloom.
“What is going on in that brain of yours, Fina?” enquired Ian, not unkindly. “I can practically see those little grey cells dancing around inside your head.”
Ruby leaned over and said in a fake-whisper, “That’s Fina’s special look. It happens when she is observing minute details with that photographic mind of hers. When she’s got that look, I don’t distract her because we often need those photographs for later!”
Fina smiled. Her friend knew her better than she knew herself. She had once pointed out to Ruby that she was going to wear through the rug in her little room at Oxford from all that pacing she did. Fina vividly – photographically, in fact – remembered Ruby staring down at her feet and then the rug in surprise. Then she had let out a great belly laugh, that rare departure from her usual giggle.
“There,” Fina said, snapping her head around in a mechanical motion to look at Ian. “I’ve finished my photography session for the evening.”
Ian put down his fork and pushed away his plate. “So, you two, what are we all going to do when tomorrow comes?”
“Thanks, Ian, for ruining any appetite I might have had,” said Ruby, dabbing the corners of her mouth with the cloth napkin. Fina looked at Ruby. Oh no, she thought. But then Ruby’s eyes crinkled at the corners, indicating she was not entirely serious.
“I’m well aware of our rather dire situation. And I really don’t want to believe that anyone on this ship could have committed these crimes,” said Ruby, shaking her head in resignation. Then she lifted her head higher. “But I am fairly certain I know who did it,” she whispered.
Ian’s eyebrows wiggled as he leaned in closer to Ruby. “Yes?”
“Don’t be silly, Mr Clavering. I cannot tell you until I’m certain,” she said. Then she gestured at Fina. “Look at Fina – she knows better than to pester me about it because it will make me even more stubborn about keeping it to myself. Stubbornness is a lovely, useful trait that Fina and I share.”
Fina beamed. “Oh yes, it’s quite true. I prefer to call it persistence rather than stubbornness,” she said. Looking at Ian, she continued, “The person who keeps their tongue keeps their friends.”
Ian leaned back and threw his hands up in mock surrender. “I see, I see. That’s all well and good, but when do we get to hear the news? I don’t know about you, but I’m awfully anxious about having to explain, ah, certain things, to the authorities.”
“Tomorrow. I’ll tell you tomorrow,” replied Ruby.
“Don’t tell me you’re going to do that rather theatrical announcement game that you did last time,” said Ian.
“Absolutely not.”
Ian drew a line along his jaw with his index finger, ruminating. “On second thoughts, it might be the best way. After all, we’ll have to make an announcement – or rather Maxwell will have to make an announcement – to the passengers before we leave. And it might help us all tie up some loose ends in our interviews with the authorities.”
Ruby shook her head. “No, I’d rather not, because if word gets out among the passengers…”
“How about this? I’ll tell Maxwell that you know – he will keep it confidential – and ask his opinion. If he says yes, then you’ll do it?”
Ruby smoothed her hair and the dress material on her lap. Fina realised this was a technique that let her pause and think.
“I’ll do it. After breakfast tomorrow. In the lounge.”
33
It was a blue moon occasion: Fina didn’t eat breakfast the next morning. Well, not a proper breakfast, she thought, as her stomach gurgled. Just plain toast and tea. She didn’t know how Ruby could tuck away johnnycakes, eggs and bacon, and then wash it down with three cups of coffee. But it must be giving her much-needed strength for the looming tempest.
In addition to breakfast, they ran about preparing for Ruby’s revelations. The captain had told the passengers that he expected to see them all in the lounge mid-morning.
“Ah, there it is,” said Ruby, kneeling down to rummage in the back of a low cupboard. She pulled out a dusty white tin box with a red cross: a substantial first aid kit.
“Gracious, Ruby, what have you got planned?”
But Ruby only had time to make a reassuring gesture in Fina’s direction before she dashed off in search of Neville, leaving the first aid kit on a side table. She’d told Fina to keep the passengers busy in the lounge while Neville gathered some items from their cabins, unseen. Then he was to bring this collection to the lounge.
Even as she chatted idly with the guests, something nagged at her. Ruby had looked for something in Balraj’s room, something she’d said had been missing. Could she have sent Neville in search of it? But no, that couldn’t be it – he’d been sent to collect something specific, not to launch a full-scale hunt. This is so infuriating, thought Fina. Ruby can be so infuriating. But then she realised that she could be quite infuriating too – and Ruby put up with her.
Ruby was the last to enter the lounge, by design. The comfortable chairs sat in a little semicircle, facing the bow. Fina congratulated herself on finally learning which was the bow and stern of a boat. Sunlight streamed in through the windows. The chairs were arranged so guests could not only look out over the bow, but also be subjected to some intense sunlight, illuminating their every movement, even the slightest flinch of guilt. That had been Fina’s idea, and she felt rather proud of it, even though it was devious. But this was murder. Dolores had subverted her plan by donning her sunglasses. Tricky, thought Fina. Tricky, indeed.
The sunlight also had another effect. It was a beautiful day, but looked to be warmer than ever. Fina’s own personal temperature comfort range was quite small, so she was already beginning to sweat as they took their places at the front of the semicircle. Lev shut the doors, increasing the temperature and humidity tenfold.
Captain Mills, immaculate in his white suit – no beads of sweat on his forehead – stood up from his chair as soon as all had been seated. Unlike everyone else present, he seemed to be enjoying himself.
Everyone was present, except for Lev, Neville, Agnes and the two boys. Lev was keeping an eye on things on the ship’s bridge, Neville was fulfilling Ruby’s request, and Agnes was still in Emeline’s room. They had agreed that as she was on the mend, she would watch over the boys until she was needed in the lounge.
“Dear passengers,” said the captain. “I will not provide you with a lengthy introduction, except to say that Miss Dove, Miss Aubrey-Havelock and Mr Clavering – as you all know – have been investigating these dastardly c
rimes on my ship. It is my understanding that conclusions have been reached.” He paused. “It is in all our best interests, not only for safety reasons, that we know who the murderer is – assuming it is singular rather than plural.”
Clearing his throat after his grammatical diversion, Mills said, “I expect full cooperation from all of you this morning, just as I have requested during the investigation. I know this is quite difficult for all of us. Or should I say difficult for some of us more than others,” he said, scanning around the circle as if he could ferret out the culprit by just looking at them. With that, he took his seat.
“This is outrageous,” said Sadie, rising from her chair. “My late husband was one of the foremost members of the House of Lords, I’ll have you know, and he would never have countenanced such baseless accusations.”
“Hear! Hear!” rejoined Phillip. “I may not be one of the gentry, but I am a British subject,” he said in all seriousness. Fina saw Ian’s lips twitch with amusement.
The captain rose again. “Please, please. We are on this ship, and when we are at sea, I set the rules for conduct.” He paused. Fina was quite sure he couldn’t help himself when he finished by saying, “And as a British subject, Mr Gibbs, I expect you to understand stiff upper lips.”
“Thank you, Captain Mills,” said Ruby, rising gracefully from her seat. Her posture conveyed she was prepared to answer difficult questions from a board of bank directors.
“I know this conversation is a painful one, but I am doing it at the captain’s request. Miss Aubrey-Havelock and Mr Clavering,” she said, gesturing to Fina and Ian, “will chime in at various points to ensure we all stay close to the matter at hand. I’m most grateful to them for their patience,” she added, grinning sheepishly at Fina. Fina felt somewhat mollified by this acknowledgement.
“Let us begin with the murder of Mr Balraj Chadha. At first it seemed inexplicable. On this voyage, Mr Chadha was the life and soul of the party, a friend to everyone. However, once I became aware of a single, crucial piece of information, it was clear to me that almost everyone in this room had a reason for wanting him out of the way, as it were.” She paused and let her gaze circle the lounge, chin high, to the silent admiration of Ian. Truly, reflected Fina, her friend had a flair for drama, whether she realised it or not.
“But I’ll say more about that in a moment. For now, let’s recount what happened the night of the murder,” she said, nodding at Ian. She sat down and drained a large glass of water near her side.
Ian stood up and buttoned his blazer. “Here’s what we know about that night. We all assembled for dinner at 6 o’clock.”
He turned to Violet. “Mrs Gibbs.” She looked up, startled from her task of rearranging the vase of flowers and the sugar bowl on the table. “You were in your cabin because you were not feeling well. Did you hear anything during that time? Even more importantly, did you leave your cabin?”
Violet’s healthy glow from yesterday quickly turned into a sickly sheen. “I don’t know what you mean, I, I…” She began to tremble.
“There, there, dear,” said Phillip, patting her hand as if she were a small child. He began to jiggle his leg.
Good grief, thought Fina. She hoped her husband never condescended to her like that. If she ever got married, that is.
Clutching her handkerchief, Violet whispered, “I had my dinner tray in my room. Miss Gidge brought it to me at 6 o’clock, as I’m sure you’ve already confirmed,” she said, looking toward a nodding Ian. “And then I didn’t leave the cabin. Phillip and Gilbert returned shortly thereafter – after the pea and plantain debacle. I heard nothing.”
Turning to Dolores, Ian said, “And now you, Miss Dominguez.”
Dolores’ face was maddeningly impassive, thought Fina, especially with the sunglasses. “As I’ve already told Ruby and Fina, I retired to my cabin at 6 with a headache. By 6:15, I had begun to fall asleep. A knocking noise awoke me at 6:45.”
“Right,” said Ian. “Miss Gidge told us that she left the tray at 6:45 after hearing no answer from Balraj’s room.”
Phillip interjected. “That means the murder must have occurred between 6:20 and 6:40,” he said with a satisfied smile. But then his face looked perplexed. “But at that time everyone was in the dining room, apart from my wife. She didn’t do it, so that leaves…”
Everyone turned to stare at Dolores. She remained tranquil. Ruby rose from her seat. “That does seem to be the logical explanation. But let’s not leap to conclusions. In fact, it could have been Mrs Gibbs, but it wasn’t. You see, there are too many unknowns here. For someone to murder him in just twenty minutes, it had to have been planned in advance.”
Fina’s fingers tingled. “But how could the murderer know that Mr Chadha would go to his cabin?”
“Exactly,” said Ruby. “Our murderer could have seized an unanticipated opportunity on the spur of the moment, and followed him to his cabin to kill him. The problem is they simply wouldn’t have had enough time to do it.”
Emeline puckered her lips. “Well, Miss Dove, what does this mean then?”
“It means,” replied Ruby, “that the murderer wasn’t there.”
34
Gasps rippled around the room.
“What in the holy mother’s name do you mean?” asked Gustave, levitating above his chair. His face was hardly impassive now. Little flecks of spittle flew from his lips onto Dolores, who gently wiped them away with her handkerchief.
Neville entered at that moment, struggling under the weight of a box. He looked satisfied, but grim. Ruby nodded at him and smiled. He stood at the table outside the semicircle as if he were awaiting orders.
“Yes. The murderer wasn’t there.” Again, another murmur of voices around the room. Fina saw Ruby warming to her role. The dramatic reveal was still to come.
“You see,” said Ruby. “We know Balraj died from a blow to the back of his head.”
“And from our calculations, it had to be someone quite tall, or someone in heels,” interjected Ian. Fina smiled to herself.
“Yes, and by what we found in the room, someone had not only moved the body, but had cleaned up after themselves. They would have needed to find cleaning supplies and dispose of them afterwards – all in twenty minutes,” said Ruby.
“Well, then it had to be Miss Dominguez!” said Sadie. “She would be tall enough in heels, and she was the only one besides Violet who had the opportunity.”
“It would seem that way, Lady Winchcombe-Twisleton, but we still encounter the old problem of this being an impossible murder in terms of timing.”
“Is this drama necessary? Please get on with it, Ruby,” said Emeline in a harsh voice. Ian flashed Emeline a warning look. She ignored him.
“It’s Miss Dove to me, Miss Caulk. In any case,” she said, returning to her previous subject, “it is quite necessary and you’ll see why when we come to a conclusion.”
She continued. “Let’s leave the problem of the seeming impossibility of Mr Chadha’s murder to the side for a moment. Consider the case of Patricia Burbage’s murder.”
Emeline blew her nose loudly in her handkerchief.
Ruby glanced at Ian. He nodded. “We know that Mrs Burbage was killed by cyanide in her glass of port.”
“Good God man, stop stating the obvious,” yelled Phillip. Fina had never seen the man so agitated before. He was normally such a good-natured, rather bland character. Now he was all fire and brimstone. What had changed?
Ian ignored the outburst. “While we know the cyanide was in the glass – and that any one of us could have put it there given the distraction of the cat in the kitchen – we didn’t know if it had originally been poured into the bottle. We did find out afterwards that it was in the bottle and Mrs Burbage’s glass, but not Ruby’s.”
Ian’s voice rose. “At first, I thought the target was Miss Dove. But after our analysis, with the help of Mrs Gibbs,” he said, nodding gratefully in Violet’s direction, “we discovered that the target was
indeed Mrs Burbage. Miss Dove might have been a secondary target: although there wasn’t poison in her glass, there was cyanide in the port bottle.”
“And Mrs Burbage had told us earlier that she thought someone wanted to harm her,” added Fina.
“Exactly,” said Ian. “Add to that the scorpion incident – which initially seemed either an accident or a warning to Miss Caulk – and we have a relatively clear picture of a build up toward Patricia’s murder.”
“What about Miss Gidge?” asked Dolores. “Poor woman. I’m quite glad she is on the mend.”
Obligatory nods of agreement came from everyone in the room.
“Miss Gidge knew too much,” said Ruby. “It took her a while, but she had access to clues that no one else had. She tried to get in contact with Fina and me before she was attacked. She was hesitant to express her suspicions, but I believe the second murder made her feel that she had to come forward.”
“Unfortunately, the murderer found her before we could,” said Fina.
Agnes wobbled into the dining room on a makeshift cane.
Victor and Gilbert trailed behind her. Sarah looked to Ruby who nodded in reply. Sarah rose and the pair trundled after her like little ducklings out of the room. Fina had seen Ruby and Sarah discussing their plan of action earlier. Ruby said she wanted Agnes’ entrance to be a surprise.
Fina saw looks of pity on her fellow passengers’ faces as Agnes lowered herself in a chair just outside the circle. Neville rushed over to put a pillow behind her back.
Agnes surveyed the crowd, her hand resting on top of her cane, looking like an ancient soothsayer.
“Thank you for joining us, Miss Gidge. I know that we are all relieved, with the exception of one of us, that you are on the mend,” said Ruby. “Now,” she said, gesturing to the crowd, “I hope that Miss Gidge will share what she knows about these two murders – and her own attempted murder.”
