by Rose Donovan
“Shall I begin with Mr Chadha, miss?” asked Agnes, wincing from pain, though also clearly enjoying her moment in the limelight, thought Fina.
“Yes, please do.”
“Right, miss.” She took a long sip of water from the glass Neville had brought to her. “As you all know by now, I brought trays to Mrs Gibbs, Miss Dominguez and Mr Chadha that first night. The main thing is that I brought Mr Chadha’s tray at 6:45, knocked and knocked but there wasn’t no answer. So I left the tray thinking he’d fallen asleep. Course, when I picked it up the next morning, he hadn’t eaten it, had he? That’s when I knew something wasn’t right.”
“And that’s when we discovered he was murdered,” said Ruby.
“Right you are, miss. Awful it was, though there weren’t much blood. I didn’t think about it at the time because I never seen a murder before.”
“What happened then, Miss Gidge?” asked Fina.
“Well, I went about my business, as usual. Though the whole thing made me nervy. Always looking over my shoulder, I was,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “But after the second murder, some ideas in my head began to bother me more. It was like there was a bee buzzing in the back of my head. It wouldn’t leave me alone, but I couldn’t quite figure out where or what it was.”
“And that was the key to the whole mystery,” Ruby put in. “The clue that escaped us all, but which, if I’d only realised it, one of the ship’s crew had known about all along.”
She exchanged glances with Agnes, who nodded at her.
“The bed-clothing.”
35
Fina glanced around at the crowd, feeling just as lost as most of them looked.
Agnes carried on nodding her head incessantly. “Yes, the bed-clothing, miss. You see, after the first murder, I was doing the wash as I always do. I count up the linens after they’re clean. The pillows were all right, but one whole set of bedclothes was missing! I counted and recounted. I looked in the crews’ wash. I even looked in the extra closets upstairs to see if they were there. Couldn’t see hide nor hair of them. The only thing I could think was that a guest had put it in their luggage. But that seemed, well, daft.”
“Why didn’t you tell anyone then?” asked Fina.
“Well, miss, it was just too odd. I did ask the crew if they had seen any bed-clothing lying around, but they hadn’t. I tried to ignore it, but it wouldn’t let me be. That’s when I slipped a note under Miss Ruby’s door about wanting to talk to her,” she said, nodding toward Ruby.
“And that’s when you figured it out, Miss Gidge,” said Ruby, quietly. “Your drawing on the note told me all I needed to know.”
Agnes wiped her brow. “Yes, miss. You see, if I hadn’t been there to see Mr Chadha’s skull bashed in…” She paused. “Beggin’ your pardon, ladies and gentlemen,” she said with a little nod at the crowd.
“No need to apologise, Miss Gidge,” said Ian. “That’s what did indeed happen.”
She gave Ian a little smile and continued. “Well, it was that problem of the blood. There should have been more, well, ah, blood and the like on the floor,” she said, becoming squeamish at her own description of the murder. “And then the missing bed-clothing…” She trailed off with her hands in an open gesture, signalling that the guests should come to their own conclusions.
“I think you’d better walk us through your thought process,” said Ruby.
“Right you are. Well, the reason for the lack of, ah, matter, could be that there was something catching that blood, or that Mr Chadha was killed elsewhere and the body had been moved. What if Mr Chadha had been killed either in his room or elsewhere – and then everything was cleaned up with bed-clothing? Certainly something would be needed to clean up that mess.”
“That’s why the rug was so clean in Balraj’s room!” declared Fina, the truth beginning to dawn on her, ever so slowly.
“Exactly,” said Ruby. “Either Balraj was killed and fell back on the bed-clothing, or the bed-clothing was used to clean up the mess. Though it seems more likely that he fell on the bed-clothing, because it would be impossible to clean the rug well enough – since the murderer was in a hurry.”
“So this means that Balraj could have been murdered somewhere other than his own cabin,” said Ian.
“Yes, sir,” said Agnes.
“Wait a minute, Miss Gidge,” said Sadie. “Wouldn’t you have noticed whose room was missing bedclothes when you cleaned the rooms? Then you would know the identity of the murderer!”
Agnes shook her head. “No, Lady Winchcombe-Twisleton. You see, I leave a note in all the guest rooms explaining that they can find extra linens in the cupboard near the reading room – at the stern of the boat. The murderer was clever and took extra linens from that closet. I counted them in that cupboard so that’s how I know for certain one was missing.”
“All well and good, but this just tells us what we already know,” said Phillip. “It tells us that one of us is a murderer.” His voice was increasing in volume yet again. Those Gibbses were peculiar, thought Fina. Distinctly peculiar.
“Yes, Mr Gibbs, that is exactly what it tells us,” said Ruby in a calm voice. “It also tells us that the murderer wanted to kill Miss Gidge to suppress this knowledge.” She looked sympathetically at Agnes.
“That’s right, miss,” murmured Agnes from her chair.
Ruby smoothed her hair and continued. “Since we’ve established that Miss Gidge’s knowledge was clearly dangerous, let’s review the reasons everyone had to murder Mr Chadha and Mrs Burbage.”
“And which one was the real murder,” said Ian, “assuming that one of them was the primary target.”
“Mm-hmm,” said Ruby, in between sips of water. “Let’s start with the Gibbses, shall we?” She looked over to the fish-like countenances of the Gibbses. Violet grasped Phillip’s arm so tightly that it looked as though her fingernails might pierce his skin.
Ruby glanced at Fina. Must be her turn.
“Ah yes, so perhaps you could tell us why you are travelling with a king’s ransom in jewellery on this journey?” asked Fina, rather innocently.
“What?” said Violet. “What were you doing searching our room? What does that have to do with these murders?”
“It may have everything to do with them.”
“Ah, I can explain, I can explain,” said Phillip, chomping at his pipe. Fina couldn’t tell if he was wincing from having to tell the truth or from his wife’s vice-like grip. “To be frank, this trip is not entirely a pleasure cruise for us. Violet and I are planning to start a new life in Port of Spain. Sun, sea… it’ll make a change from foggy old Blighty, eh, darling?” His laugh had a forced ring to it.
“If that’s so, Violet,” continued Fina, “why did I hear your husband say, ‘Soon we’ll be safe’ to you?” continued Fina.
Violet looked at Phillip. Fina saw that she was clearly terrified.
Phillip coughed. “Very well, Miss Aubrey-Havelock, I see you hold all the aces. Jolly good. The fact is, we are on the run.”
Well, well, thought Fina. He crumbled like a house of cards.
“You fool!” screeched Violet, slapping him across the face.
“On the run?” said Ian, incredulously. This pair did not fit his idea of professional crooks.
Tears streaming down her face, Violet said, “Let me explain. You see, we were afraid for Gilbert.”
At least three people said in unison, “Gilbert?”
“Yes, Gilbert,” said Violet. “And myself. You see, I was married when I was quite young. To a soldier in India. It was a washout. He went missing – and his friends believed it was related to his military service. Even though I wanted to break it off, I waited. And waited. Over two years. Then I left India and returned to London. I assumed he was dead, as did everyone else. I started a new life as a widow.”
“Then I met Vi in London,” said Phillip, wiping away Violet’s tears. She gave him a half-hearted smile. “We married, and, a year after, Gilbert
was born.”
“We were quite happy,” said Violet, blowing into her handkerchief. “Until a month ago, when I had a letter from a friend in India, telling me that my first husband was alive. Not only was he alive, but he was returning to London.”
Phillip removed his pipe and began to wave it around. “Well, you all know the severe punishments for bigamy. Sometimes two years in prison. Gilbert would lose his mother. We thought the best plan was to escape, somewhere where no one could find us, nor would the news matter when Violet’s, ah, husband returned to London. Violet has an aunt in Port of Spain, so that’s how we decided on Trinidad. We left instructions with our families to tell the authorities that Violet had died and that I had vanished with Gilbert somewhere.”
“So the jewellery was your life savings?” asked Fina.
“Yes,” said Phillip. “We thought it would be the safest way to travel – convert all of our money into jewellery that could be easily sold anywhere.”
“So that’s why Mrs Gibbs has looked so ill during this voyage. The three of you never really seemed like you were on holiday,” said Fina. Then she looked at Ruby. “What does this have to do with the murders?”
“Would you like to tell everyone or should I?” asked Ruby, looking at the pair.
Violet gave out a sigh that turned into a cough. “I’ll tell you. We didn’t think anything of it at first, but Balraj, Mr Chadha, that is, made subtle hints about my husband and marriage.”
“At first I thought he was, well, making a pass at my wife, of course,” said Phillip. Fina fought down her urge to judge that comment.
“But then we realised that he travelled quite frequently between India and England,” said Violet. “And that his social circles might be abuzz with gossip of the sort related to subjects like…”
“Bigamy,” whispered Phillip.
“Did you ever confront Balraj about it?” asked Ruby.
“No,” said Violet. “But we did live in fear that he might tell someone.”
Around the room, the silence of those listening took on a cold, hostile quality. Violet, realising that she had brought their suspicion on herself with her own words, shrank back into her chair and clamped her lips tightly shut.
Ruby turned back to the room. “Violet’s fear was legitimate,” she said in a clear voice. “Balraj Chadha had a talent for exploiting his knowledge of people’s secrets. And exploiting those secrets for a great deal of money. But he wasn’t pursuing people like the Gibbses. Strangely enough, he had principles – he only targeted those with money, prestige or power. And his secrets cost him his life.”
36
Fina leaned back in her chair. Never mind a flair for drama, she thought; Ruby had a positive genius for it.
“I first realised the possibility that Balraj was an opportunist when Sadie mentioned it in a conversation,” Ruby went on. “Soon after that, Gustave made a similar comment, though he did not provide any details about what kind of opportunism he meant.”
Sadie shifted in her seat. Gustave, for all his impassivity, held his head high.
“I knew that Balraj was out of work because of his stand against discrimination in the film industry, so that led me to wonder where he secured the money to come on this trip. In hindsight, of course, the answer was obvious: money in exchange for silence.”
Neither Sadie nor Gustave responded to this supposition. Ruby continued. “I do not know why or when he began these activities, but I can speculate on the matter. Anyone who knew him better than I is more than welcome to offer any additional information,” she said, scanning the crowd as if anyone would actually take her up on this offer.
Silence.
“Given what little I’ve gathered about Mr Chadha’s character from all of you, it seems unlikely that extortion was a natural expression of his personality. Far from it – he seemed to be a rather generous soul – and, at least in some ways, a very principled soul at that. It is my guess that he was short of money.”
Dolores nodded and held up her finger as if she were a student waiting her turn to answer a question.
Ruby played along. “Yes, Miss Dominguez?”
“What you say is true. I think I was the closest of anyone to Balraj on this journey,” she said, lifting her sunglasses to dab at her eyes. Was this all an act? It was rather convincing, even taking her profession into account.
“You see, after he took a stand against the stereotyped roles he played – and general treatment of his people in the industry – he was soon unemployed,” Dolores continued. “He fell on hard times. Because he was an actor, and moved in high-class circles, he began to collect titbits of gossip and rumours about rich people. Rich people who controlled the film industry in England and the United States. He loathed them, so he thought he’d start asking them for money to keep their secrets quiet. Most of the time he had no firm proof that the rumours were true, but even rumours can bring down a wealthy person quickly in these days of scandal-mongering newspapers.”
“And I’m sure the people whom he threatened knew that he would make good on his promise if they didn’t give him money,” said Ruby.
“Yes,” said Dolores. “And then, well, something changed in him. He became hardened. I began to notice that he treated everyone – including me – like a potential enemy. I think he began to enjoy torturing wealthy people. No, enjoy isn’t the right word,” she said with a great sigh. “It wasn’t pure enjoyment, but rather a game or a distraction for him, long after he had enough money.”
“Which is how he could afford to sail to Trinidad,” interjected Fina.
“He must have felt a sense of power,” said Ian with a sympathetic yet rueful smile on his face. “All these people who decided his fate for so long now had to answer to him.”
Ruby cleared her throat. “Yes, well, regardless of his own internal justifications and motives, the fact is that this behaviour, given how widespread it was, was going to provoke someone at some point.”
“Not that it is an excuse for murder,” said the captain.
“Quite,” said Ruby.
The tears had never stopped streaming from Violet Gibbs’ eyes. “But we never hurt him!” she wailed. “I never touched him! We just wanted to get away.”
“Ruby, my dear,” Gustave broke in, “this is all, as the British say, rather airy-fairy. Do you have a point to tormenting these poor people? I have some important letters to write before we arrive.”
“Yes, my dear,” said Ruby in a low voice. “There is a point. The point is that the Gibbses had a perfectly legitimate motive for murder and also had the opportunity – even given the impossibility of timing. Violet could have murdered him, gone back to her cabin and then when Phillip left with Gilbert, he could have gone back to clean up.”
“And they could have murdered Mrs Burbage because she knew something, just like Miss Gidge,” said Fina, feeling triumphant. Then a thought occurred to her. “But where would they have obtained cyanide?”
“Excellent question,” said Ruby. “And one that we’ll return to shortly. But as Mr Marchand has just spoken, let’s explore his motives next.”
Ian jumped up, ready to explain. “I knew there was a good reason for Gustave to murder Balraj. When I first met him, I began to think about how strange it was that he was a dress designer. He seemed – at least from the stereotypes in my mind – to be a more likely banker than a designer. It was also odd how he didn’t want to talk about his life in France or in England, though that alone would not make me suspect him.”
Ruby took over. “Then, early on in our trip, I read about an embezzlement scandal in a newspaper. I asked Ian about it and he said there had been a spate of high-level banking fraud cases in England, involving a number of foreign accounts. There were holes in Gustave’s story that tallied almost exactly with the timeline of that particular crime.”
“Based on Ruby’s suspicions, I asked the captain to radio for more information about the scandal. Not anything elaborate, mind, but just wh
at the papers had been saying,” said Ian. “It didn’t take much to put two and two together, and realise that the man we know as Gustave Marchand was in reality wanted by police in two countries for financial crimes. He was travelling under a pseudonym, in the guise of an up-and-coming dress designer, in the hope of escaping a jail sentence.”
That must have been why Gustave didn’t want to admit he had been in England long – and had avoided talking about his profession, thought Fina. She chided herself for not thinking more about those newspaper headlines, too.
“So you think I was a target for Balraj’s extortion?” asked Gustave. He shrugged and then answered his own question. “I see no point in denying it – especially since you all already know that I’m on the run – because it is utterly plausible given what we know about him. But I would hardly kill him for it.”
“Why not?” asked Dolores.
“Because, my dear, I could simply disappear elsewhere. My dress designs, you know…” His stony features relaxed into a half-smile. “I’ve always been interested in fashion, so it was no great stretch to slip into this new life. In fact, it has been a great pleasure. Balraj put all that at risk, but I had ample funds to keep paying him in the meantime. As far as extortion goes, he was quite reasonable, I assure you.”
“What about the murder of Mrs Burbage?” asked Dolores.
“I had no motive for that killing, and as I said, I did not have a strong enough motive to kill Balraj,” Gustave said, folding his hands in his lap as a message of finality about the matter.
Ruby pursed her lips. “Let us turn now to the other passengers,” she said, looking at Sadie, who was twisting and twirling her jade necklace. “Lady Winchcombe-Twisleton, or Sadie Stiles, you inherited a large sum of money from your late husband’s estate, is that correct?”
