The Mystery of Ruby's Port (The Ruby Dove Mystery Series Book 2)

by Rose Donovan

“I see no point in denying it. Everyone knows it’s true,” she said with a little flop of her head to the side.

  “And is it also true that you enjoy being Lady of the Manor?” asked Ruby.

  Sadie shrugged. “I don’t see anything wrong with wanting to be part of a grand tradition of British aristocracy. However, I don’t see that this has anything to do with the murders.”

  “Balraj knew something, didn’t he, that would cause a scandal?” asked Fina quietly. “It had something to do with that paper in your room, though I couldn’t quite figure out what it meant.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Sadie, giving Fina a cold stare. She paused. “You are quite the snoop, aren’t you?”

  “You’d better answer the question,” said Ian. “Or would you rather deal with the authorities when we arrive?”

  Sadie rubbed one hand up and down her bare arm in a rhythmic motion. She looked alarmed.

  “Mr Clavering. Is it really necessary to involve the authorities in my personal affairs?”

  Ian fixed her with his trademark glare, which had never failed to subdue insubordinate directors in rehearsals. “You seem to forget, Lady Winchcombe-Twisleton, that we are dealing with two murders on this ship, and another attempt at one. Your personal affairs can no longer remain a secret.”

  “Very well.” She sighed wistfully. “You may already know that my husband was in charge of a number of famine camps in India. Recently, I found out that the conditions at two of these camps were among the worst the British have run in India. Not only that, but he was leading nutritional experiments on people.” She shuddered. “Truly awful, but there it is. I didn’t find out until after he died.”

  “And Mr Chadha knew about this and was threatening to extort money from you as well,” said Ruby.

  “Yes,” she said, turning to Fina. “That was the piece of paper you found in our cabin – it was the rations the British government used to figure out how much humans could live on per day.”

  Fina thought back to the paper, with its quantities of rice, potatoes and flour. “But it was only 60 grams. That’s not much more than, let’s see… two ounces,” she exclaimed.

  “Quite,” said Sadie sadly. She shook her head. “The funny thing about it is that apparently the British have been engaged in committing atrocities in these camps for a long time – it was and remains an open secret. But this was particularly egregious. If it got out, it would be a major scandal given Lord Winchcombe-Twisleton’s position as a former peer in the House of Lords and a humanitarian. It also implicated a number of other people in my social circles.”

  “So he hadn’t asked for money yet – Balraj, that is?” asked Ian.

  “The reason I gave him the cold shoulder that first evening at drinks was that he had approached me about it in London. It was one of the reasons I decided to go on this trip with Victor. I needed to get away and clear my head. That’s why it was a shock to see him, because it seemed like he was following me.”

  “It’s entirely possible that he was following you,” said Dolores from the corner. “And I can only imagine how furious he was about your husband’s involvement in the famine camp tragedy.”

  “But I would never have killed him. I didn’t know Mrs Burbage, either. I would never risk something like murder, because Victor would lose his mother,” she said, now moving her head around as if he were lost.

  Violet leaned over and put a hand on Sadie’s arm. “Don’t fret, Lady Winchcombe-Twisleton. The two boys are safe – Miss Breeze is looking after them.” Sadie gave her a surprised look in return, which then settled into a warm smile.

  Ian cleared his throat. “I suppose I’m next. This will be brief. I have known Balraj for quite a while, but only as an acquaintance on the theatre circuit. There were rumours about his activities, but I never heard anything directly.”

  “And Mrs Burbage?” asked Ruby, playing along.

  “I had never met Mrs Burbage before this voyage. Of course, I had heard of her, as one does in newspaper columns from time to time.”

  “It’s true,” Ruby confirmed. “Mr Clavering lacked any discernible motive for either crime.” She paused. “Though that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have one.”

  Ruby couldn’t help herself when it came to Ian, thought Fina.

  “How about the captain and crew?” asked Phillip.

  The captain made a shifting noise in his seat as if to signal he was ready to talk. “I can vouch for my crew. And as for myself, well, I did know Mr Chadha, but that was through Ian. I’d hardly commit murder on my own ship. It would be very hard to do because someone on the ship knows where you are at almost every minute of the day.”

  Neville stepped forward. “I can say that between myself, Lev and Sarah, we had no love lost for Mrs Burbage, who was rather difficult. If we murdered every passenger who was rude to us, however, we’d be out of a job fairly quickly.”

  Ruby signalled they accepted these stories by looking at Dolores next. “Miss Dominguez, would you prefer that I explain your motive or shall I do it?”

  Dolores had drifted over to the drinks tray in the corner, where she was fixing herself a scotch. Fina saw the clock on the wall read 11.

  As she walked slowly back to her seat, she said, “I will tell the story. There isn’t much to tell, since it’s in the newspapers – you probably all saw it,” she said, making a sweeping gesture with her glass around the room. “I caused quite a furore because I told the truth about those scum executives,” she said, nearly spitting her drink back into her glass. “They prey on young girls and their dreams. Why shouldn’t I expose it?” she said defiantly.

  “I certainly sympathise with your story, Miss Dominguez,” said Ruby, looking quite sincere about the statement. “I am inspired by your courage. But that does not change the fact that it still made you a target for Mr Chadha.”

  “How so?” asked Dolores.

  “You had not provided the names of the perpetrators of the crimes. And you have also effectively disappeared – no doubt for your own safety. If Mr Chadha had disclosed your location to the press, or even worse, to these executives, you could have been in danger. Your career is already in danger.”

  Dolores nodded. “Yes, I know, but you see, most of my scandal was already out in the open,” she said, taking a swig at her tumbler. “And besides, Balraj and I – we – had a past relationship, if you know what I mean. He had a soft spot for me. Even though he was, I guess you’d say, far-gone, I know he would never put me in physical danger. Besides, I was more afraid for him, as I hinted to you, Miss Dove, than I was afraid of him.”

  Fina could see that although Dolores was also escaping her scandal, she had adopted an almost wholly nonchalant attitude to the affair. Must be the drink.

  Wrinkling her nose, Fina said, “Is that why I smelled your perfume in Balraj’s room?”

  Dolores stopped, mid-sip. She lowered her glass. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she replied, “Yes, Fina. Our relationship was already over, but I had to really end it.”

  Sadie’s eyes flickered. “Now that you’ve unveiled all of our dirty laundry,” she said, sneering at Ruby, “how about you and your gal-pal, Miss Aubrey-Havelock—” she pronounced it with an exaggerated British upper-class accent “—tell us your motives.”

  “Hear! Hear!” said Phillip.

  The captain intervened. “I’m sure Miss Dove and Miss Aubrey-Havelock will explain. Please remember that I asked them to review these motives out in the open. They did not want to do it themselves.”

  Ruby gave the captain a grateful smile. “Thank you, Captain Mills. Please know that Mr Clavering, Fina and I had to be convinced to do this. We don’t like airing other people’s ‘dirty laundry’ – as you say, Lady Winchcombe-Twisleton – any more than the rest of you,” she said. Then her voice became louder and firmer. “And the fact is that one of us is a murderer, so it would make sense for you to save your vitriol for them.”

  The crowd looked mo
llified, but still unconvinced.

  “I have no motive,” said Fina. “I didn’t know anyone, except Lady Winchcombe-Twisleton, Ruby and Ian before this journey.”

  “Thank you, Fina. As for me,” said Ruby. “I knew Gustave, and obviously Fina and Ian, before this voyage. I had heard of Mr Chadha, but not met him before – nor had Fina.”

  “What if he was bilking you as well?” asked Phillip. “How do we know you’re not lying?”

  Ruby gave Phillip a wan smile. “You don’t.”

  37

  “This is utter balderdash,” said Emeline, who suddenly advanced toward the door. On her way, she pointed a shaking finger at Ruby. “As Mr Gibbs points out, you – you could be setting up this elaborate charade as a ruse! It wouldn’t surprise me.”

  The captain stood up. “Please, Miss Caulk, take your seat again,” he said, waving her back.

  “As I said, you don’t have any reason to believe me – or really anyone else. But we do have evidence that we shall present in a moment,” Ruby said, regaining her composure after the small mutiny that had just threatened to erupt. “But first,” she said, turning to Emeline, “we need to finish our review of motives. You are the last one on the list.”

  Emeline gulped and clutched her carpet bag.

  “In Emeline’s case, it might be better to focus on the second murder, that of Mrs Burbage,” said Ruby. “You see, Fina and I know Emeline had a motive to kill her sister.”

  Gasps from around the room. Fina held her breath. While she knew Ruby would not reveal Emeline’s possible connection to Wendell, would she reveal Emeline’s pulp fiction secret? Jack Juliano unveiled? Surely not.

  “Yes, it is horrible to contemplate, but it is possible. We heard that your sister threatened to cut off the money to your pet causes,” said Ruby.

  Strained sounds gurgled up from Emeline’s throat.

  Ruby held up a hand. “Even if that were not the case, you also had a motive to kill Balraj because we also heard that he had made your sister one of his victims. If he’d done that, your funds would most certainly be cut off.”

  Well, that was a risk, thought Fina. She knew Ruby was bluffing. It might be true, but they didn’t know it for certain.

  Emeline sighed. “What you say is true. He was extorting funds from my sister for some rather, ah, dubious liberties she took with her business. But I’d hardly kill him for that. Especially if my sister was going to cut me off, as you say.”

  Ian jumped in. “But if this story is true, it fits together perfectly. You kill Balraj to stop the extortion and then you kill your sister so you inherit the money!”

  Everyone shifted in their seats to look more closely at Emeline. Fina had to confess that Ian was right. It did seem to fit together perfectly.

  Emeline cleared her throat. “I admit it is rather convincing, except for one fact.”

  “What’s that?” asked Phillip.

  “I inherit nothing under my sister’s will,” she sighed. “You see, that row we had about my causes, as you call them, was because I wouldn’t inherit anything from her will. In fact, the only money I received from her was an allowance.”

  Ian looked disappointed as he sat back in defeat. “I see. Yes, that does seem to eliminate your motive.”

  Rustling sounds emanated from Neville’s table.

  Ruby gave Neville and his crate of surprises a slight nod.

  He unpacked it slowly, clearly enjoying the theatricality of the moment.

  “What on earth?” said the captain, staring. All eyes were on Neville now – in his striped sailor shirt. Much better than that stiff uniform, thought Fina.

  Neville reached into the box and pulled out an object, then another, placing each one on the table. He handled them with great care, as if the stone might shatter.

  “Those are the statues from our rooms!” declared Sadie.

  “Yes,” said Ruby, strolling toward the collection of figures. All eyes followed her, like a minute hand on a clock. She picked one up. “You see,” she said, smoothing her hand along the parrot’s wing, “these are sandstone parrot statues. Neville carved them all himself.”

  “Yes, I did. They’re nearly identical. But not quite.”

  “Did you notice anything odd when you collected them today from all the guest rooms?”

  “No, Miss Dove. They were all there, in their right places. I attached a label to each one showing where it came from – which cabin, that is.” He handed over a statue to Ruby, with a paper tag tied around its neck.

  Ruby held up the statue to the crowd, rather like a magician displaying an empty top hat, thought Fina. The rabbit was due any minute.

  “Some of you may know,” she said, her voice carrying clearly in the silence, “that my field of study at Oxford is chemistry. It’s an interesting study in itself, but where it really becomes fascinating is when it may be used in real-life applications.” She paused. “Such as catching a murderer.”

  All eyes followed her as she turned to the first aid kit and opened it. They seemed hypnotised. Fina wasn’t sure she could have spoken, even if Ruby had asked her to. Neville, meanwhile, was arranging the parrot statues in a neat row along the table.

  Ruby took out a small, brown glass bottle and some cotton wool. Again, she held up the bottle. “Ordinary hydrogen peroxide, such as you’d find in any first aid kit. It’s a useful antiseptic and is excellent for disinfecting a needle, say, if you need to get out a splinter. That’s because it reacts with blood, which contains an enzyme that breaks down the hydrogen peroxide into water and oxygen.”

  A voice spoke up. It was Dolores, perhaps emboldened by her drink. “Ruby, darling, this is all very impressive and I’m sure your chemistry skills are just as well-honed as your dressmaking ones. But are we not wasting time? If one of those statues was covered in blood – and surely it would have been, if it were the murder weapon – Agnes would have noticed, don’t you think?”

  “Would she?” said Ruby quietly. “Let’s find out.”

  She opened the bottle and saturated a blob of cotton wool with hydrogen peroxide. Its sharp, medicinal odour drifted out across the assembled company, clashing with the soft comfort of the lounge.

  Confidently she took up the first statue and swept the cotton wool evenly over the top of its head. The crowd held their breath. Nothing.

  Ruby placed the statue to her left. One down, seven to go, thought Fina.

  As the row of statues to her left grew, a nervous restlessness permeated the room. The earlier stillness was gone, replaced by a constant shuffling of feet, crossing of arms and clearing of throats.

  The fifth statue looked exactly like the rest. But when Ruby swept her fresh ball of cotton wool over its head, Fina gasped. The clear liquid from the bottle foamed up instantly, turning a fizzy white everywhere it touched the stone.

  It was what they had all been waiting for. Ruby set the statue down carefully and examined the label. “The murderer thought they had cleaned their statue thoroughly,” she announced. “But sandstone is porous. You might wash away all visible marks, but no amount of soap and water could remove every trace of blood. This is the statue that killed Balraj.”

  The captain leaned forward. “And which cabin did it come from?” he asked.

  “Mr Marchand’s cabin,” she replied.

  38

  Waves lapped against the boat. They sounded so loud, thought Fina, in the absence of human voices.

  Fina had heard of people turning purple and grey – indeed she had seen it herself – but up until now she had never seen someone actually become green. That shade crept up Gustave’s face, threatening to engulf his rapidly disappearing hairline.

  Tick-tock. The grandfather clock chimed. If she listened carefully, she could hear squeals of laughter, children’s laughter – must be Gilbert and Victor, she thought.

  Gustave rose and then fell back into his chair. Though Fina thought the colour on his face might indicate impending apoplexy, he said in a steady voic
e, “It’s a – what do they say in films? A frame-up. You,” he said, pointing to Neville, “or you,” pointing to Ruby, “put that statue in my cabin – or one of you!” he said, his finger moving rapidly from one passenger to the next.

  Ruby shook her head. “I’m afraid not. You see, after Mr Chadha’s death, the captain instructed all of us – even more so after Mrs Burbage’s murder – to keep our doors locked. There wasn’t an opportunity to switch the statues.”

  Trying another tack, Gustave asked, “This still doesn’t prove anything. What does it have to do with the murder?”

  “Booby trap,” declared Ruby.

  A little nest of baby squirrels awoke in Fina’s stomach. Of course! A booby trap.

  “I, I, I don’t know what you mean,” stammered Gustave.

  “Of course you do,” said Ruby. “But I will spell it out. The night of Mr Chadha’s murder, you arranged to meet him in your cabin to discuss his terms – about the money he wanted from you. You gave him these instructions: during dinner, he should say he didn’t feel well and then go to your cabin, not his own. He did this. You told him you’d leave it unlocked. You also told him that you would follow behind quickly. You didn’t follow through on your promise, however, because you knew you didn’t have to.”

  “Because Balraj would have already been dead,” said Ian, staring at the sea.

  Ruby continued. “You put this statue, perhaps along with some other heavy items as insurance, on the top ledge over your cabin door on the inside – the same one we all have in our cabins. I’m not sure what material you used – probably sewing thread. You’d have plenty of that as a dress designer. Then you closed the door and rigged the handle with the heavy objects above so they would come crashing down on whomever came in the door to your cabin. Then you must have crawled out through the window of your cabin and proceeded to go to dinner.”

  Dolores said, “But wait! Wouldn’t the door be open after everything fell on top of him? Then anyone passing by Gustave’s cabin would have seen Balraj.”