“That’s good enough, then, from the Green Star’s point of view, Mac. As far as we can judge it’s an unfortunate occurrence, perfectly straightforward, and it’s no damn good your getting mysterious about it. Has the lady a husband alive?”
“Yes; she’s English by birth, but married to a very wealthy Argentine.”
“Where’s her husband?”
“They don’t know at the moment. There seems to have been a bit of a rumpus some weeks ago, and the husband went off in a huff. The lady was evidently used to his nasty habits and didn’t trouble herself about his departure. She shut up her house in Sussex and decided to console herself with a cruise aboard this ship.”
“Usual burial unless they want to take the body home or bury it in Lisbon. We’ve no facilities for keeping a corpse in any of the refrigerators.”
“The sister says she’ll take all responsibility on behalf of her sister’s husband, and wishes a speedy burial at sea. They can’t communicate with Mesado by wireless because they don’t know where he is, although they think he may have gone to Buenos Aires.”
“She’s a sensible woman. You’ve explained, Mac, that it’s not desirable to make a public function of the burial?”
“Yes, yes, I took care to put that aspect of the affair very clearly. They agreed with me wholeheartedly.”
“Excellent. We’ll bury her tomorrow night. Beyond her relatives it won’t be necessary to have anybody else present, though I dare say some of the passengers will find out and put in an appearance where they’re not wanted.”
“They like burials at sea as a rule,” commented the doctor dryly.
“Well, they’re jolly well not going to get one this trip,” replied the captain firmly. “We’ll drop her overboard tomorrow night. Bit of a nuisance. Dancers and card players hang about the ship till all hours. Damn these cruises. We’ve been turned into variety entertainers. We’re no longer seamen.”
Doctor Macpherson was silent for some moments, smoking lugubriously.
“There was one rum thing about the body that I could not quite understand,” he remarked at length.
“What the devil was that?” asked the captain, casting a troubled glance in the doctor’s direction.
“She was wearing a pair of chamois leather gloves. I took these off and found that both hands were very badly cut and bruised. A valuable ring on one of her fingers had had some of its stones knocked out.”
“How did you account for that?” asked the master sharply.
“I didn’t account for it,” replied the doctor.
“Well, what had the Colvins to say about it?” asked the captain impatiently.
“They said Mrs. Mesado had a motor smash on the way from London to Tilbury, and had thrust her hands through the windscreen of the car she was driving.”
“Ah, well, that’s a satisfactory explanation,” sighed the captain, as if some unpleasant matter had been definitely settled.
“I wasn’t quite satisfied with the explanation,” remarked the doctor.
“Good Lord, Mac, you’re always seeking trouble. The thing seems quite feasible to me.”
“But her hands weren’t bandaged, as they certainly would have been if such had been the case. The wounded flesh of both hands was sticking to the leather of the gloves.”
“I see. It’s a rum sort of point to raise, Mac, but we must leave well alone. It’s not our job to try and fathom the idiosyncrasies of all our passengers. Did you probe the Colvins further on the subject?”
“No. I couldn’t very well give them the lie, and I diplomatically let the subject drop.”
“Good. We’re famous for diplomacy on the Green Star Line. Now I think that’s all we can do about this rather unfortunate occurrence at the moment. If anything unusual transpires let me know. We must be careful.”
“Very good,” agreed the doctor, and wishing his skipper good morning, for it was seven bells of the middle watch, he retired to his cabin and was soon sound asleep.
II
Not long after Ricardo had left Vereker in the early hours of the same morning, and before the latter had completely undressed and returned to his bed, a gentle knock sounded on his cabin door. Slipping on his dressing-gown, Vereker quietly opened his door to see who the untimely visitor might be and was confronted by Mr. Richard Colvin.
“May I come in and speak to you for a few minutes?” he asked uncertainly.
“By all means,” replied Vereker and, closing the door, pushed an easy chair over to his guest. His eye roved quietly over Colvin, noting his general appearance. From his twitching mouth and shaking hands he learned that the man was in a highly nervous and distressed state.
“I hope you’ll forgive my intrusion at this hour,” he said, “but I felt I had to see you before I turned in. I would have come earlier, only Doctor Macpherson kept Constance, my wife, and me jawing over things, and we’ve just managed to get rid of him.”
Colvin’s shifty eye wandered furtively round the cabin and at length alighted on the bottle of whisky standing on Vereker’s table. He looked at it yearningly for a few seconds and then asked:
“I wonder if I might help myself to your whisky? I’m terribly upset.”
“Take a good stiffener,” replied Vereker warmly, and added, “Wait a minute. I’ll get you a clean glass.”
Colvin poured himself out a plentiful potion with a shaking hand and drained the glass greedily.
“Don’t be afraid to punish it,” urged Vereker cordially. “I have another bottle in my cupboard. You’ve had a rough passage tonight and it won’t do you any harm. Take another shot, and I’ll join you.”
To his satisfaction the invitation was promptly accepted. It was at once evident to Vereker that the quickest way to this man’s confidences was through his throat, and he had decided to get Colvin to talk at all costs now that chance had flung him the occasion. The moment was particularly opportune, he thought, for a man is less guarded in highly emotional states.
“Your friend Ricardo found my poor sister-in-law’s body on the deck tonight. I wanted to thank him. I went to his cabin next door, but found it in darkness. Thinking he was asleep I didn’t like to disturb him. I noticed your light was still on, so I risked dropping in on you. I believe you were with him.”
“Not at the moment of the discovery. Ricardo knocked me up. Rapped on my window, and I joined him.”
“Ah, I see. Still it was very good of you both to take so much trouble. Constance and I are very grateful.”
“Glad to be helpful. Most unfortunate occurrence. I sympathise with you and Mrs. Colvin. Mrs. Mesado has been ill for some time, I suppose?”
“More or less. She suffered from heart trouble, and we were always led to expect that she might die suddenly at any time.”
“To expect misfortune tends to lessen the shock when it arrives,” remarked Vereker, at a loss for more appropriate words, for his thoughts were not in his speech. He was trying to fathom the reason for Colvin’s visit. A conventional expression of gratitude for the trouble he had taken seemed to him at the moment hardly a strong enough motive. It had the insincerity of exaggerated feeling; Colvin seemed to be over-acting his part. His disturbed mental state might account for his deviation from the acceptable norm, but it had roused Vereker’s lively suspicion.
“She was apparently well when you saw her last?” he remarked, as if eager to avoid any uncomfortable hiatus in their conversation.
“Seemed quite well. We saw nothing unusual and she herself didn’t complain.”
“What time would that be?” asked Vereker in as casual a tone as he could assume.
“Let me see, let me see,” replied Colvin with studied innocence; “it must have been ten o’clock when she left Constance and me and went to bed.”
“As early as that,” remarked Vereker and, instantaneously aware that he had made a dangerously false step, asked impressively, “And you never saw her alive again?”
“Never,” replied Colvin with a th
eatrical pathos which he did not improve by helping himself to further whisky.
For some moments Vereker’s thoughts were vigorously occupied in seeking a motive for such a deliberate lie, for he had heard Colvin’s voice in Mrs. Mesado’s cabin as late as quarter to two in the morning. Either the man was a fool or was boldly attempting to safeguard a dangerously weak spot in some defensive scheme. Vereker’s face was as impassive and expressionless as that of a Chinaman. He gazed blankly in front of him and heard Colvin utter an instinctive, almost inaudible sigh of relief. At once the reason for this unexpected visit flashed on him. Colvin had surmised that Vereker was the only person on the ship who might know that he had been in Mrs. Mesado’s cabin just prior to her sudden death. He would be aware of this through having overheard their conversation in the adjoining cabin. He had come to find out and, satisfied that Vereker did not know, was obviously relieved.
“I’m not keeping you out of bed, Mr. Vereker?” he asked in a more natural tone.
“No. I’m particularly wakeful after the incidents of tonight, and I seem to have done nothing but sleep since this cruise started. I don’t suppose you feel too eager for bed either?”
“No. I couldn’t possibly sleep if I turned in. Apart from our bereavement, I’m extremely worried.”
“Can I help you in any way?” asked Vereker sympathetically.
“Well, one of the main objects of my looking you up was to ask your advice. You may be able to put me wise. Did you see Mrs. Mesado at dinner last night?”
“I thought I saw her enter the dining saloon. Our table is on the opposite side of the saloon from yours, and as I didn’t know Mrs. Mesado very well by sight I can’t be positive.”
“Ah, then you would hardly notice that she was wearing a very fine diamond necklace.”
“As a matter of fact I did even at that distance, and thought to myself that it must be worth a small fortune. I was right in my surmise that it was Mrs. Mesado?”
“That was she all right. Her necklace is a very valuable one. You couldn’t see it clearly from where you sat, but I can assure you the stones are really magnificent. Her husband, however, is very wealthy and can afford these expensive trifles. It’ll be a terrible blow to him when he hears of his wife’s sudden death. I suppose you’ll send him a marconigram?”
“Well, no,” replied Colvin after some hesitation. “As a matter of fact, we don’t know where he is at the moment. Beryl and he quarrelled and have been estranged from one another for some time. Doubtless it would only have been temporary, but now…” Shrugging his shoulders dramatically he continued, “To return, however, to my sister-in-law’s diamond necklace. I’m afraid it’s missing.”
“Good heavens! You don’t mean to say so!” exclaimed Vereker with surprise, and at once all his wits were on the alert. “It certainly wasn’t round Mrs. Mesado’s neck when we found the body,” he added significantly.
“No, I know that,” said Colvin immediately and, evidently feeling that his certainty might be informative, qualified the statement: “At least we were fairly certain that it couldn’t have been. You see, Mrs. Mesado always took her necklace off after dinner and locked it in her jewel-case. It was a confirmed habit with her when she was staying in hotels or on board ship.”
“These expensive gewgaws are more trouble than they’re jolly well worth,” remarked Vereker slowly as his mind rapidly reviewed every aspect of the situation.
“I agree. I don’t know why women carry the damned things about with them; they’re a constant source of worry, even of actual danger where desperate men are concerned,” said Colvin with apparently unfeigned distress.
“You’ve thoroughly searched Mrs. Mesado’s belongings?” asked Vereker, looking up at his visitor quickly.
“Well, not thoroughly. We were too much upset for that, but on finding that Beryl was not wearing her necklace we ran hastily through her jewel-case. It’s certainly not there.”
For some moments Vereker was silent, his face stonily impassive, but a certain brightness in his eyes and a thinning of his lips, undiscernible to those not intimately acquainted with him, declared that he had resolved on some audacious plan to serve his own purposes.
“You know that I was in Mrs. Mesado’s cabin for some time tonight with Doctor Macpherson, Ricardo and Fuller, the night steward?” he asked.
Colvin nodded assent and glanced up expectantly.
“Well, I’m almost certain I saw Mrs. Mesado’s necklace when I was casually looking round her cabin. I’m trying to remember where it was. Some unusual spot, I know. The fact struck me forcibly at the moment, though I was naturally too preoccupied with the gravity of the occasion to worry much about jewellery.”
This information at once brought an eager light into Colvin’s rather watery reddish-brown eyes.
“Look here, Vereker,” he said impetuously, “would you, would you mind just popping into her cabin with me now and having another look round? It might help you to recollect where you saw it. I’d be very grateful.”
This was the opportunity for which Vereker had been longing, and to secure which he had not been strictly truthful. He excused the ruse by telling himself that the means were justifiable when dealing with a liar, perhaps even a criminal.
“If you’re particularly anxious...” he began.
“I am anxious,” interrupted Colvin emphatically. “We’ll have to account to Guillermo Mesado for the loss of his wife’s necklace. Knowing the gentleman, I can assure you it won’t be a pleasant job.”
“I suppose not. Perhaps if I had another look round Mrs. Mesado’s cabin I might remember where I saw the thing. You’ve got a key to her cabin?”
“Oh, yes. We’ve locked the cabin, and I have a duplicate in my pocket. The body is still in there and will be removed to the sick-bay later. Are you ready?”
Vereker rose to his feet as if to signify his readiness to proceed, and the two men quietly entered the adjoining cabin and switched on the light.
“Now let me see. I was standing here when I thought I saw it,” said Vereker impressively, and his glance wandered swiftly round every nook and corner of the bedroom of Mrs. Mesado’s suite. “I’m afraid I see no signs of it now,” he added disappointedly after a few minutes of scrutiny. His eyes finally came to rest on the gruesome white sheet which discreetly covered the dead body lying on the bed. He turned towards Colvin, who stood patiently awaiting the result of his examination.”
“Look here, Mr. Colvin,” he said at length, “I have an idea it was somewhere on that bed, and I’ve a proposal to make. If you will just run quickly through Mrs. Mesado’s personal belongings once more I’ll make a thorough search of the bed and the cabin. I’ve done a lot of detective work at different times and am quite expert at rapid searching.”
He turned and looked Colvin direct in the face to note the effect of his words. He was not astonished that the very mention of detective work seemed to exercise an immediate and disturbing effect on his companion. An uneasy look came into his eye and his brows knitted uncomfortably. He recovered from his discomposure with marked celerity and agreed to the proposal with forced heartiness.
“That’s an excellent idea,” he said. “If you’ll just run your hand over the bed I’ll go through Beryl’s jewel-case and belongings. I hope you’re not squeamish?”
“No, not at all,” replied Vereker quietly, and crossing quickly over to Mrs. Mesado’s bed he pulled down the sheet covering the body and began his search. It did not take him many minutes to satisfy himself that the diamond necklace was not there. He had, indeed, never expected to find it, and was really seizing another opportunity to have a very careful look at Mrs. Mesado’s face and hair and hands. There was something about the dead woman’s hair which apparently puzzled him. He stood for some minutes lost in conjecture and then, taking advantage of Colvin’s preoccupation with Mrs. Mesado’s valuables, discreetly produced from his pocket two picture post cards of the “Mars” several of which he had bought at the
ship’s shop. They were of the highly glazed variety common to this type of photograph. Removing the glove from the right hand of the dead woman, he pressed the fingers firmly against the mirror-like surface of the post card and slipped it into his pocket. Having gone through the same process with her left hand, he crossed over to the dressing table and, picking up an ordinary white celluloid comb which lay on it, dropped it into his pocket beside the post cards. He glanced quickly round at Colvin and was satisfied that his action had not been noticed by him. Pulling out the right-hand drawer of the dressing table, he found it contained gloves, handkerchiefs neatly arranged, a pair of discarded silk stockings rolled into a ball and tucked carelessly into a corner, an odd leather handbag and a small phial containing capsules. He glanced at the label on the phial and found that the capsules were nembutal. He was seized with a sudden impulse to pocket the phial, but on second thoughts replaced it and withdrew a pair of chamois leather gauntlets from the drawer. They were of exactly similar pattern and size to the pair on the dead woman’s hands. Glancing inside the gauntlet he saw that the initials B.M. were marked on the leather with purple indelible pencil. The remaining drawers of the dressing table contained nothing but articles of wearing apparel and yielded little of importance to his investigation. He turned towards Colvin, who was rapidly going through the contents of a small dressing case and jewel box, taking out the articles and placing them one by one on an occasional table. Vereker carefully memorised these articles, especially the items of jewellery. There were no necklaces, but several bracelets and three magnificent rings. He noted the absence of wedding ring and signet ring, both of which Mrs. Mesado must have discarded for the evening when dressing. Among these articles, however, was a passport, and as Colvin busied himself with his search Vereker picked up the passport and examined it. He glanced rapidly down the descriptive particulars: Height, 5 ft. 2 in.; colour of eyes, grey; colour of hair, fair. The item “Special peculiarities” had been left blank. Taking a good look at the photograph, which like many passport photographs was a very poor likeness of the bearer, he tossed the book back on the table and made a rapid search of the cabin. During this procedure he carefully examined several pairs of the dead lady’s shoes, noting they were size 5 and scrutinising the soles, especially those of the right foot. He opened the cabin wardrobe and glanced at the dresses hanging there. As he took careful stock of them a look of amazement was born on his face, but was instantly suppressed.
The Pleasure Cruise Mystery Page 7