The False Inspector Dew

by Peter Lovesey

  'A murdered woman.'

  'But if it isn't Lydia, how can that be true?'

  'Because of the bruising round the neck. The woman was strangled, Alma.'

  She caught her breath. How could he sound so reasonable and say these things?

  'So there must be a murderer on board,' Walter went on, 'and I really have a duty to the passengers and crew to catch him. There is no-one else to do it now.'

  'No,' said Alma passively. 'No-one else.'

  'The first thing is to identify the victim. I've been questioning the stewards. It's very simple. They know their passengers by now. All a detective does is verify the facts. It's a matter of looking at things and asking questions. I've done it all my life.'

  'You're not afraid?'

  'Not now,' said Walter. 'I'm on the side of law and order. People look up to me. I like to be a focus of attention. I wasn't happy with the role of fugitive. That frightened me.' He laughed. 'And there are other advantages. I've been elevated from the second class. I have a first class stateroom just along the corridor from you. 75.' He put his arm possessively around her.

  She clutched the cape across her chest. She said, it would be dangerous to be seen together.'

  'Naturally.'

  'It isn't that I wouldn't help if I knew how.'

  They continued to walk along the deck. The sea looked black and evil. Alma looked towards the stars. The ship's wireless masts slid across the white full moon. She said, i think I ought to go to bed.'

  'Yes,' said Walter. i'H take another turn around the deck.'

  He didn't kiss her. She was thankful. She didn't want to stay a moment longer.

  Near her stateroom she met the woman from Baltimore. She stared wide-eyed at Alma. 'Have you been out on deck?'

  'Just to get some air.'

  'I don't know how you

  'I don't know how you could! You could have met the murderer out there.'

  In her stateroom, Alma pushed the bolt across the door and turned the key in the lock. She still felt insecure. She pushed the armchair against the door.

  Later, in bed, she tried to analyse her fear. Walter had given her a shock when he had grabbed her shoulder, but that had been explained. In the cape she had looked to him like Lydia. It was a moment's aberration and she could understand it. His insistence that the body was not Lydia's could have been another delusion of his troubled mind. It was disturbing, but it did not frighten her. The root cause of her fear was something he had said: In the eyes of everyone aboard this ship — except for you — I am Dew… She had felt resentment in those words except for you. He wanted to be Dew. It was a new identity, thrilling and impressive. Crippen's captor, now the saviour of the Mauretania. There was only one impediment to the illusion, and that was Alma. She knew the truth, and that was why he frightened her.

  10

  Johnny Finch had not been introduced to Paul Westerfield II, but he was not inhibited by protocol.

  'Not a bad morning,' he said when he found him taking a look at the sea from the promenade deck after breakfast on Monday. 'When that mist lifts, we'll be in for a scorcher, if I'm any judge.'

  'You think so?' said Paul.

  'A chance to put in some practice at deck tennis, old boy. Who knows, you might be the fellow to beat big Bill Tilden. It's a different game altogether from the sort they play at Wimbledon. Or are you more of a shuffleboard player?'

  'Are you from the social committee?' asked Paul.

  Johnny rocked with laughter. 'No, no, you won't catch Johnny Finch on any committee, least of all that one. I don't go in for deck games myself. Just a little flutter on the result, and that's pleasure enough for me.'

  'I don't bet,' said Paul.

  'No?' said Johnny with a note of scepticism. 'I could have sworn I saw you in the smoking room playing whist the other night.'

  'That was a friendly game.'

  'Goes without saying,' said Johnny with a wink. 'But if you should fancy a sporting bet, I hear that the ship's barber has started a book on how long it takes Inspector Dew to get his man.'

  'That's enterprise,' said Paul.

  'Too true,' said Johnny. 'I'm thinking of putting on a fiver. He's offering four to one against Dew making an arrest tomorrow.'

  'I'm not too interested.'

  'You should be, old boy. Did you hear that Dew's already had his first success? He's named the murdered woman. He was with the first class cabin stewards this morning, checking for a stateroom that had not been slept in. They found two or three, of course — knowing what people on ships get up to in the night. Eliminated all but one, and took the steward down to have a look at the body.'

  'He identified her?'

  'Right away. No hesitation.'

  'Who was she?'

  'That's the point. She was a friend of yours, old sport. She was in that four for whist. Her name is Katherine Masters.'

  PART FIVE

  The King in New York

  1

  The deckchairs on the boat deck were arranged in four rows. Seasoned travellers made a point of seeking out the chief deck steward as soon as possible after going aboard to make a reservation. Once booked, a chair was labelled. It was secure for the rest of the crossing. The precise location of the chair was crucially important. No-one except a Spartan or a first-time passenger accepted a position on the starboard side for the crossing to New York. Even the south-facing port side was best enjoyed from under a blanket. And there were finer considerations. A front row position was essential if you wanted to be noticed or attract the notice of a steward. A discerning traveller would want to know who would be seated near him. A shipboard romance might well be engineered with a bribe to the chief deck steward.

  Thanks to Marjorie's planning, the Livingstone Cordells were superbly placed in the front row on the port side in the shelter of the funnel that was never used and did not scatter soot. The seat next to Barbara was labelled P. Westerfield II. This morning it was not occupied.

  'What's happened to that boy?' Marjorie asked her daughter. 'You two haven't fallen out again, have you?'

  'No, mother. Paul has gone looking for Mr Gordon.'

  'Who is that?'

  'The Englishman who found his billfold. He played cards with us on Saturday evening. Paul wants to make sure that Jack knows about Katherine being the woman who was found.'

  'He ought to know by now. I thought everyone on the ship has heard about it. Was he a friend of hers?'

  'No, they just came together for the card game. Actually they didn't get along too well. She was a little upset by the end of the game.'

  'Poor lady — what a terrible thing this is,' said Marjorie. 'You don't think she committed suicide?'

  'Mother, she was strangled. AH the stewards are talking about it.'

  Marjorie turned to the chair on her other side. 'Did you hear that, Livy? Barbara says the lady was strangled.'

  'Hm?'

  'He's out to the world,' said Marjorie. 'Barbara dear, I don't think it would be wise for you to get mixed up in this.'

  'I can't alter what already happened, Mother. I played cards with Katherine on the evening she was killed. I'm sure to have to answer questions about that.'

  'Livy and I wouldn't want to see your name in the newspapers. If that Inspector asks you anything, keep it short, huh?'

  'There isn't much that I could tell him. He'll hear it all from Paul and Jack anyway. Her murder couldn't have anything to do with the card game, so don't fret about it.'

  'You can't say for sure,' said Manorie. 'This Jack Gordon — what do you really know about him? He could be the strangler.'

  'Mother, that's ridiculous.'

  'Believe me, Barbara, I've had three husbands and I know a few things about men.' She checked that Livy's eyes were closed. 'They can be perfect gentlemen as far as anyone can see, but get them alone with a helpless woman and they turn into monsters. Some of them, anyhow.' She glanced at Livy again. 'Men have to be house-trained like any other animal or they go for
you. It wouldn't surprise me at all if your nice English friend Mr Gordon turns out to be the murderer.'

  'I guess it has to be someone unexpected,' said Barbara.

  'Yeah,' said Livy without opening his eyes. 'Have you thought of Paul?'

  2

  The ship's doctor looked up from his notes to see his next patient.

  'Inspector. Do come in. I thought you wanted treatment. What can I do for you?'

  Walter hesitated. 'Actually, I would like to consult you, doctor.'

  'Of course. I'm at your service. Is it about my examination of the body?'

  'No. It's about my thumb. I seem to have injured it.'

  'Really? Let's have a look. How did this happen?'

  'This morning after breakfast I made an examination of the dead woman's stateroom.'

  'Ah,' said the doctor, 'don't tell me. You wanted to see whether the body had been pushed through the porthole, so you tried to open it. You're suffering from porthole thumb, Inspector. Next to mal de mer it's the commonest complaint we get. You should have asked a steward to do the job. Much easier. They carry port keys for the purpose. Does this hurt?'

  'A little.'

  'Can you straighten it?'

  'I think so.'

  'Very good. It's only a sprain. I'll give you a fingerstall if you like, but it wouldn't aid the healing. So you think the murderer pushed the body through the porthole. Perhaps you should be looking for another fellow with an injured thumb.'

  'No,' said Walter, 'it's not so simple. Some of the portholes were already open when we came on board. I particularly noticed that.'

  'That's Scotland Yard training,' said the doctor admiringly. 'Far be it from me to presume to tell you your job, Inspector. Did you find anything of interest in the stateroom?'

  'Very little. Plenty of clothes. A few bottles of scent.'

  'No jewellery?'

  'No,' said Walter. 'No jewellery.' He groomed his moustache with his good hand.

  'It is a point,' said the doctor. 'If her jewellery had been stolen, would that provide you with a motive?'

  'I suppose it might.'

  'The reason I mentioned jewellery was that when the captain asked me to examine the body, I found the mark of a ring on the third finger of the left hand.'

  'Perhaps it came off in the water.'

  'The wedding finger, Inspector,' said the doctor with significance.

  'She was not married,' said Walter. 'I've seen her passport. She was definitely Miss Katherine Masters.'

  'I assure you I wasn't mistaken. I'll show you if you like.'

  'No, no. That won't be necessary,' said Walter. A smile dawned slowly on his face. 'Perhaps it was an engagement ring.'

  'That's possible, I suppose,' conceded the doctor, but he sounded sceptical. 'It is my opinion that Miss Masters was not without experience of men, Inspector.'

  'You don't say,' said Walter. 'Did you meet this lady?'

  The doctor was beginning to be puzzled by the Inspector's train of thought. 'No, I did not. I made an intimate examination for evidence of assault.'

  'Oh. I understand you now.'

  'My opinion is that she had not been sexually assaulted.'

  'Quite right,' said Walter. 'We can do without another motive for the crime.'

  'I was going to add that the evidence suggests that she was married.'

  'Or should have been,' said Walter. 'One ought to make allowance for the war.'

  'The war?'

  'It changed the world, doctor. The end of innocence.'

  'True.'

  'I don't defend it.'

  'Good Lord, no,' said the doctor not wishing to be controversial. 'Inspector, there is something else I ought to bring to your attention.'

  'About my injury?'

  'No, no. Another matter. It may not be significant, but I think I ought to tell you. As you know, we placed Miss Masters' body in the storeroom designated as a mortuary, below the passenger accommodation in the lower orlop.'

  'Yes.'

  'The room is locked, and we keep the key up here with the keys to the medical rooms and cupboards. I have an orderly in charge of them. On Sunday we were very busy here with the usual things — seasickness and sore thumbs. I had two nurses and the orderlyion duty with me. At some stage of the evening a passenger — a man — came into the office outside and told the orderly that he needed the key to the storeroom where the body is. He said something about being asked to help with the identification.'

  'Did he get the key?'

  'Yes, he did. My orderly that evening was a young fellow by the name of Topley. This is his first crossing. He's keen to please, but none too bright. He handed over the key, and he says he can't remember what the fellow looked like. I only found this out because at the end of the evening the key wasn't on its usual hook. Topley went down to look for it and found it in the lock.'

  'The passenger didn't bring it back after he borrowed it?' said Walter.'That's a bit off.'

  The doctor gave him a searching look. 'The point is that he went down there without anyone's authority. The captain didn't sanction it and nor did the master-at-arms. Why should a passenger do a thing like that?'

  'I was about to ask the same question,' said Walter.

  'You can talk to Topley if you wish. I don't think you'll get much out of him.'

  'I'll save my breath,' said Walter. 'Thank you for mentioning it, however.' He looked at his injured thumb and tried to move it. 'There's some mobility returning. I don't think I'll bother with the fingerstall.'

  'Aren't you going to ask me about the bruising?'

  Walter turned his hand over and studied it.

  'The bruising on the woman's neck,' said the doctor with a trace of petulance. 'I was the first to notice it.'

  'Congratulations,' said Walter.

  'She was definitely strangled, Inspector. The marks are consistent with manual strangulation.'

  'Yes,' said Walter. "Very unpleasant. And rather crude. Murder need not be so brutal. Well, it's nearly lunchtime. Thank you for your diagnosis.'

  Alone in his office, the doctor pondered the secret of Inspector Dew's success. He seemed to have the gift of eliciting information without asking for it. His style of questioning was so oblique that it made you forget he was a policeman. Of course, he had retired from Scotland Yard before the war. He was either out of touch or devilishly clever. The doctor had not decided which.

  3

  In the sunshine on the promenade deck Alma's nervous intimations of the previous night made her feel ashamed. She had been overwrought. She needed to relax. She had under-estimated the tension that the murder had inflicted on them both. In Walter's case it was excusable because there were pressures on him still. Hers had lifted. She ought to be behaving like any other passenger. So when a steward mentioned that the Berengaria had been sighted, she joined the gathering along the starboard side to watch the great Cunarders pass each other.

  She was glad she did. She felt exhilarated by the sight of the great vessel steaming towards them, its black hull turning blue water into foam, its white superstructure lined with waving figures. Signals boomed across the water. Both ships stopped within a few hundred yards of each other and a tender was set down to exchange mail. There was more waving as the turbines turned again and the whistles joined in salute. Alma watched until only the steam from the Berengaria's three funnels could be seen. She had not noticed until then that Johnny was beside her. She found that she did not mind.

  'You know of course that she was launched by the Kaiser,' he informed her. 'She was the Imperalor until Cunard took her over as their flagship. Spoils of war. She's still a glorious ship. It doesn't worry me. I think there's a lot to be said for sailing under different colours, wouldn't you agree, Mrs Baranov?'

  If the blood rose to Alma's cheeks, it might not have been noticed in the bracing wind. She gave a neutral smile.

  'That's just my way of broaching the subject of the fancy dress ball tomorrow,' said Johnny. 'You're going, o
f course?'

  'I haven't given it a thought.'

  'Nor me, until this morning. Some of these people bring their costumes ready made, proper professional things, but I don't care for that. I think it should be more spontaneous, don't you?'

  'Well, yes, I didn't bring a costume.'

  'Quite right, my dear. I can promise you, if you'd taken all the trouble to bring your best crinoline and your wig and your box of oranges, there would sure to be at least two other Nell Gwynnes to ruin your enjoyment.'

  Alma laughed. 'What will you come as?'

  'That's the point. I haven't quite decided. I'm trying to think of something quite original. I did have one rather topical idea. How would I look as DrCrippen?'

  She tried to smile.

  'Not bad, eh?' said Johnny.

  'I think it would not be appreciated by everyone,' said Alma.

  'Perhaps you're right. I'm too tall anyway. He was a little fellow, wasn't he? Difficult to do. People would be sure to think I was a politician. As a matter of fact, I have got a better idea, but I need some help with it. Pardon me for asking, my dear, but are you handy with a needle and thread?'

  'It depends what you have in mind.'

  'Nothing too elaborate. A few tucks here and there.' Johnny smiled to himself. 'By Jove, it's a winner, this one. Now we must think of something for you.'

  4

  After lunch Jack Gordon went to look for Inspector Dew. He found him seated in an armchair between the piano and a potted palm in the main lounge. He appeared to be asleep. Jack spoke his name and there was no response. He repeated it. He touched the Inspector's hand.

  Walter jerked his hand away. He opened his eyes.

  'Inspector Dew?' said Jack for the third time, i'm sorry to disturb you.'

  'What is it?'

  'My name is Gordon, Jack Gordon. Is it convenient to speak about the matter you are investigating?'

  'That? Oh, yes. Can you find a chair?'