Murder on the Oceanic

by Conrad Allen

  “There’s nothing normal about them three.”

  “So last night, that old goat takes ’is wife to bed.”

  “As far as I could judge.”

  “And tonight, ’e’s got ’is model lined up. Who can blame ’im? I’ve seen that Mademoiselle Whatsername. She’s gorgeous,” said Browne, licking his lips. “Any man with red blood in his veins would want to spend the night with ’er.”

  George Dillman had completed one half of his search earlier that day, eliminating all the names of second-class passengers on his list. Only thirteen suspects were now left and, as he entered the first-class lounge, he knew that the killer was probably there as well. Abednego Thomas was in his element, surrounded by Florence and Vane Stiller, Ethan and Rosalie Boyd, and a few people whom Dillman did not recognize. While the artist was holding court, his wife sat on the edge of the group with a smile of resignation. As soon as she saw Dillman, she leapt up and kissed him on the lips.

  “Where have you been, George?” she asked.

  “I had to talk to someone.”

  “Not a young lady, I hope.”

  “No, no, this was a member of the crew.” He looked at Thomas. “I see that Abednego has collected some new followers. He does have a way of attracting attention, doesn’t he?”

  “Yes — if not always of the right kind.”

  “Artists need to keep their name before the public.”

  “The best way to do that is to produce and sell plenty of paintings. At least, that’s how I endeavor to spread the word about Veronica Thomas. I’m not so clever at wooing a crowd as Abednego.”

  “How is his latest painting coming along?”

  “Nearing completion, he says. Give it a day or two.”

  “I’d enjoy seeing it unveiled,” he said, “and I’d be grateful for a second look at your work as well, Veronica. It’s very arresting. My only concern is that both you and your husband are so carefree.”

  “Carefree?”

  “Those paintings in your cabin must be worth a tidy amount. Aren’t you worried that somebody might sneak in there and steal them?”

  “Hardly,” she replied. “Look around you, George. My husband may have seven people sitting at his feet but there are well over two hundred others in here who treat him like a leper. Nudes frighten them. And the man who paints them is therefore an object of disgust.” She looked at him quizzically. “Are you frightened by the sight of nudity, George?”

  “Not at all.”

  “You don’t feel embarrassed or threatened in any way?”

  “Why should I?”

  “You’re very enlightened. Most of your fellow Americans seem to be in the grip of high moral principals.”

  “The founding fathers were Puritans, remember. That’s not something that can easily be shaken off.”

  “You’ve managed to do it.”

  “I’ve had the good fortune to travel a great deal.”

  “That was the first thing I noticed about you. You’re urbane.”

  “Thank you.”

  “What was the first thing you noticed about me?”

  “How well the three of you got on with each other,” he said. “You, Abednego, and Dominique. There was this wonderful togetherness about you. Though you’re very individual characters, you managed to blend into one.” He saw that she was waiting for a more personal compliment. “I also noticed how beautiful you look and how elegantly you dress, Veronica. There are ladies in this room who spend hundreds of dollars on every item in their wardrobe but none of them can match you.”

  “I appreciate that remark, George.”

  “It was honestly made.”

  “I’d expect nothing less from you.”

  She reached out to squeeze his hand and he gave her a neutral smile by way of reply. When she locked her eyes on his, he had to force himself to look away. He gazed around.

  “I don’t see Dominique.”

  “She went off to see a friend.”

  “I didn’t know that she had friends aboard.”

  “She didn’t when we joined the ship,” said Veronica, easily, “but she’s ubiquitous. I’ve no idea who this new friend is but one thing I can tell you. It will be a man.”

  Dominique Cadine tripped along the corridor and tapped on the door of a cabin. It was opened at once and the face of Oskar Halberg emerged.

  “You changed your mind, then?” he said, beaming at her.

  “Yes.”

  “Come on in, Dominique.”

  After half an hour with her friend, Genevieve Masefield felt that she had done all that she could for Blanche Charlbury. The younger woman was still upset but she no longer viewed a possible indiscretion by her fiancé as a strong enough reason to revalue the whole of their relationship. As she bade Blanche farewell, Genevieve told herself that she was leaving her in a far better state than she had found her. After checking the time on her watch, she decided to return to her cabin but someone was lying in wait for her. The moment she turned a corner, he stepped out in front of Genevieve.

  Mark Bossingham was throbbing with barely contained anger.

  “What did you say to Blanche?” he demanded.

  “That’s between myself and your fiancée.”

  “Have you been trying to turn her against me?”

  “She needed no help from me on that score,” said Genevieve, levelly. “You were the one who upset her, Mr. Bossingham. Blanche feels that she’s been deceived.”

  “She’s certainly deceived in you.”

  “I don’t seek your good opinion.”

  “That’s just as well, Miss Masefield.”

  “I went to Blanche as a friend. After what happened over dinner, she was certainly in need of one. She was very grateful.”

  “Don’t expect any gratitude from me.”

  “I’d never dream of it.”

  “I regard you as a malign influence on Blanche.”

  “That’s an insulting remark, Mr. Bossingham, and I can see that I was wrong to think you above such things. Stand aside, please.”

  “I’ll ask you to keep away from us in the future.”

  “I’m more than happy to keep away from you,” she said, “but your fiancée is a different matter. Blanche has the right to choose her friends and I’m pleased to be among them.”

  She moved him gently aside with an arm and continued on her way, wishing that she had not urged Blanche to give him the chance to make amends. His behavior did not merit it. Bossingham had not been in a diplomatic mood with her and his comments rankled. Genevieve was glad to let herself into her cabin and shut out all memory of him. Her attention was soon fixed on something else.

  Lying on the table in front of her was a white envelope with her name on it. How it had got into her cabin, she could only guess and the sight of it was slightly unnerving. She needed a moment before she felt able to reach out for it. There was something inside the envelope, something that jingled slightly as it moved. Genevieve was bewildered. When she opened the envelope, out fell an expensive gold bracelet.

  There was a message in the envelope, written in a sloping hand.

  As a token of my love and admiration — Johnny

  TEN

  It was over an hour before the numbers in the first-class lounge began to thin out, and before Dillman felt able to break away from his friends. Abednego Thomas gave him a cheery wave and a ribald comment in Welsh. Veronica took the opportunity to kiss the detective on the lips once again. Ethan and Rosalie Boyd had already left and Dominique had not come back to the lounge. Thomas’s other acolytes had faded away. Dillman walked out of the room with Florence and Vane Stiller.

  “Where does he get his energy from?” wondered Vane.

  “Abednego has defied time,” said Dillman. “He has the stamina of someone half his age.”

  “He claims that he gets his zest from a wine bottle.”

  “He was only joking,” said Florence. “That surging power of his doesn’t come from drink. It’s innate
. What keeps him so young and active is his creative spirit.”

  “Well, I wish that I had some of it.”

  “So do I, Vane.”

  “When are you going to have a photograph taken with him?” asked Dillman. “I know that he’s looking for an excuse to stand between the pair of you and slip a hand around your waists.” They laughed. “And who can blame him?” he added, courteously.

  “Oh, Mr. Dillman! You say the sweetest things.”

  “There’s a photographer on board, isn’t there?”

  “Yes,” replied Vane, taking over, “and he’s hoping to accommodate us tomorrow, if the weather is a little kinder. We wanted the photograph taken in his cabin, with his paintings in the background, but Abednego decided against that in the end. The only examples of his work that he would really like to be photographed are all boxed up in the hold.”

  “You’ll have to go to his exhibition in New York to see them.”

  “We can’t wait, can we, Florence?”

  “No, dear. It’s already in our diary.”

  They traded farewells with Dillman then went off in the opposite direction. Before going to his own cabin, Dillman first returned to the one he had peered into earlier. Once again, he put his eye to the keyhole but he had more success this time. There was no obstruction. He found himself looking into a dim interior and was able to pick out the shapes of the furniture. The cabin was self-evidently vacant. If someone had been in there earlier, they had gone now and locked the door behind them. Dillman made a mental note to borrow a master key from the purser next morning so that he could look inside.

  When he got back to his own cabin, he slipped off his coat and hung it up in the wardrobe. It was Genevieve’s turn to call on him that night so that they could exchange any information they had managed to gather. He was looking forward to their brief reunion, needing, after a long and hectic day, to remind himself that he had a lovely wife on the Oceanic, as well as a highly competent partner. A knock on the door made him adjust his tie and pull himself to his full height. It sounded as if Genevieve was as punctual as ever for their meeting. He opened the door with a flourish, ready to enfold her in a warm embrace.

  “Come in,” he invited.

  “Thank you, George,” said Veronica, pleased with her reception.

  He was astonished. “Oh, it’s you.”

  “Were you expecting someone else?”

  “No, no,” he lied, closing the door after she had stepped inside. “It’s just that I’m rather surprised to see you.”

  “Pleasantly surprised, I hope.”

  “Yes, Veronica.”

  “Your cabin is so much tidier than ours,” she said, looking around it with interest. “Abednego likes to spread.”

  “So I noticed.”

  “But there are times when artistic squalor gets me down a little.”

  “Squalor?”

  “Disorder, confusion, jumble. Our cabin is a mess.”

  “I liked all that amiable clutter. It lent a distinct atmosphere.”

  “That was the smell of the oil paints.” She moved closer. “Why have you suddenly become so formal? This can’t be the first time that you’ve had a woman visit you in a cabin.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “Then make me more welcome. Do you have anything to drink in here?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “Press the bell and summon a steward.”

  “I think I’ve had enough alcohol for one day,” he said, holding up a hand. “So, perhaps, have you, Veronica.”

  “The night is still young.”

  “Won’t your husband be missing you?”

  “Oh, I don’t think so. He’s used to this kind of thing.”

  “And what kind of thing is that?”

  “George!” she said with mock censure. “Do you really have to ask?”

  Her purpose was all too apparent and it alarmed Dillman. He did not wish to hurt her feelings by too blunt a rejection but he was very conscious of the fact that Genevieve would be there shortly, and her arrival would introduce all sorts of complications into the situation. Dillman needed to get rid of his visitor quickly.

  “Veronica,” he began, “there’s been a misunderstanding.”

  She came closer. “Has there?”

  “I really think that you should go back to Abednego.”

  “That would be against the rules.”

  “Rules?”

  “Yes,” she said blandly. “He doesn’t mind my coming here, if that’s what’s troubling you. And we could easily go to the other cabin. Would you prefer to do that?”

  “Which other cabin?”

  “Dominique’s, of course.”

  “Won’t she need it for herself?”

  “I can see that I’ll have to explain it more clearly,” she said, slipping her arms familiarly around his neck. “Abednego and I have a rather unusual marriage. Most of the time, we live in a ménage à trois. That’s why Dominique came on our honeymoon on that barge with us. It’s something I had to accept from the very start, you see. Abednego believes in free love. He sleeps with all his models. It helps him to paint them with more insight and accuracy.”

  “Don’t you mind?”

  “Not if I’m allowed to roam outside the bounds of matrimony as well. My husband is spending the night with Dominique so I can look elsewhere. And I’m choosing the most handsome man on board.”

  “Unfortunately,” he said, detaching her hands, “I’m not available.”

  She was hurt. “Doesn’t the idea appeal to you?”

  “I find you very appealing, Veronica.”

  “But you have qualms about my being married.”

  “It’s not your situation that troubles me,” he said gently, “but my own. The truth of it is that I’m already spoken for.”

  “Oh dear!”

  “I’m terribly sorry if I gave you the wrong idea.”

  “No, no, the fault is mine, George.”

  “Friendship is all that I can offer you.”

  “Then I’ll have to settle for that,” she said wistfully. Her eyelids narrowed. “Just let me ask you one question.”

  “What?”

  “It’s not because you prefer Dominique, is it? You don’t have a prior arrangement with her, by any chance? I’m not jealous as a rule but that would be rather wounding. It’s one thing to share my husband with Dominique but quite another to be overshadowed by her.”

  “Dominique could never overshadow you, Veronica.”

  “Do you really mean that?”

  “You’re one of the most remarkable women I’ve ever met.”

  He said it with such sincerity that she stepped forward to hug him impulsively. Then she gave a laugh and retreated to the door.

  “This has been rather embarrassing, hasn’t it?”

  “Not really.”

  “What are we going to say to each other in the light of day?”

  “Good morning, I expect.”

  “Do we just forget that this ever happened?”

  “No,” said Dillman. “I’m very flattered. You took me unawares, that’s all. I just didn’t expect anything like this, Veronica. I knew that you had an unconventional marriage but I didn’t realize the full import of that.” He reached for the door handle. “Perhaps I should check if there’s anybody about.”

  “Yes, I don’t wish to compromise you.”

  He opened the door and saw, to his intense relief, that the corridor was empty. Standing back, he gave Veronica a smile of farewell. She stole one last kiss then stepped swiftly out of the cabin. He closed the door and leaned against it. Dillman blamed himself for being so blind. From the very start, Veronica Thomas had shown a keen interest in him and her affection was undisguised. In rubbing his leg under the table during dinner, she had given him a clear signal and, because Dillman had not objected, she had all the encouragement that she needed.

  It had been a narrow escape and he wondered how Genevieve would react when he told
her about it. He also wondered why she was late. It was very uncharacteristic of her. At that moment, Dillman felt a great need to see his wife. Where could she possibly be?

  ———

  Trembling with apprehension, Edith Hurst stood in front of her like a schoolgirl who has been summoned to the headmistress’s study. When the call came, she had been about to go to bed. After hurriedly putting on her uniform, she rushed to the cabin. Genevieve let her in then held up the envelope that had contained the bracelet.

  “How did this get here?” she asked sternly.

  “A gentleman gave it to me.”

  “When?”

  “Earlier this evening, Miss Masefield. He said that I was to wait until you had gone to dinner then leave it in your cabin.”

  “Did he give his name?”

  “No.”

  “Did you let him in here at any point?”

  Edith blushed. “No, miss. I’d never do that. I’d lose my job if I did. We have very strict rules about that sort of thing.”

  “Rightly so,” said Genevieve. “When the gentleman spoke to you, did he ask to be let in here?”

  “Yes, Miss Masefield. He offered me money.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I refused to take it.”

  “Good girl.”

  “He said that he was a friend of yours, but that’s no reason to let him in here. Yet I did agree to put the envelope on the table,” said Edith. “I saw no harm in that. He told me that it was a gift for you. Have I done wrong, Miss Masefield?”

  “No, you’ve behaved well.”

  “Thank you.”

  “So you can stop being so frightened,” said Genevieve, taking pity on the girl. “You look as if I’m about to accuse you of some heinous crime. You haven’t done something terrible, have you?”

  “No, no. I just do my duties.”

  “Then I’ve no complaint. But next time this gentleman asks you to put something in my cabin, tell him that you’re not able to do so.”

  “Yes, Miss Masefield.”

  “And under no circumstances must he be allowed in here.”

  “I understand that.”

  “How much did he offer you?”