The False Inspector Dew

by Peter Lovesey

  Jack collected one from the other side of the palm and positioned it opposite Walter.

  'Not there,' said Walter. 'Slightly to the right. I want a clear view of the lounge.' He winked at Jack. 'Observation.'

  Jack glanced over his shoulder along the Inspector's line of vision, but all he could see were two clergymen playing draughts.

  'What did you wish to say, Mr Collins?'

  'Gordon. I thought I'd speak to you before you came looking for me. I was with Miss Masters on the evening she was killed. I was playing cards with her in the smoking room. I was her partner at whist. It's obvious that you will want a statement from me.'

  'And very public-spirited of you to volunteer it, Mr Collins.'

  'It's Gordon, actually, Inspector.'

  'I heard the first time, Mr Collins. No offence, but I make a practice of addressing witnesses by their surnames. Tell me about this game of whist. Who were your opponents?'

  'A young American couple. His name is Westerfield, I think.'

  Walter took out a pencil and notebook, i'd better make a note of it. I'm hopeless with names. I usually leave this to the nurse.'

  Jack gave an uneasy laugh. 'Yes.'

  'And the name of Mr Westerfield's partner?'

  'That's difficult. She's called Barbara. I didn't catch the surname.'

  'Not to worry, Mr Collins. I'll find it out in my own way. I'm more concerned about Miss Masters at the moment. You were friends, I gather?'

  'No. We hadn't met before Saturday evening. The whole game was got up after dinner. I found myself sitting in here with Mr Westerneld. While we were talking, Miss Masters came round asking people if they wanted to help with the ship's concert. Neither of us was too enthusiastic, but we agreed to play a few rubbers of whist instead. She was quite keen on the idea. Paul — Mr Westerneld — went off to ask Barbara if she would be his partner.'

  'And was it an agreeable game?'

  'For most of it, yes.' Jack folded his arms and unfolded them. 'Well, you're going to hear about this from somebody, so I'd better tell you. There was a sort of misunderstanding at the end. Paul and Barbara won the deciding rubber. Miss Masters and I didn't play all that well together after the first few hands. She criticised my play. It nettled me. At the end she took out a banknote to pay the others their winnings. I don't know how familiar you are with what goes on between card-players on ships, Inspector, but no-one puts money across the table in a public room. I was quite sharp with her. I told her in a few short words that it wasn't done. Then I left them. I think she was about to burst into tears, and I can't stand that.' He gave a shrug. 'There it is. I'm sure you appreciate how badly I feel about it.'

  'I wouldn't take it too much to heart,' Walter advised him. 'It's not as if she committed suicide. I can tell you confidentially that she was strangled.'

  'I heard a rumour to that effect,' said Jack. He leaned forward in his chair. His lips had suddenly gone pale and his eyes fixed on Walter with extraordinary intensity. 'You must find the devil who did it, Inspector. He must hang for it.'

  Walter nodded. He eased a finger gently round his collar.

  'You will catch him?' said Jack.

  'God willing,' answered Walter.

  'I don't know how you begin to account for a vicious crime like this.'

  Walter sat unmoving like the sphinx.

  'There was no reason for it,' Jack continued, it was senseless. You're dealing with a maniac'

  'Who do you think?' asked Walter interestedly.

  Jack blinked. 'I've no idea. I just want to see him caught.'

  'You were sitting opposite Miss Masters during the game,' said Walter, 'so you must have seen her hands.'

  'What do you mean? I don't cheat.'

  'Not the cards, Mr Collins. I mean her hands. Literally, her hands. Do you remember whether she was wearing a ring on the third finger of her left hand?'

  Jack shook his head. 'She was unmarried. You know she was a spinster.'

  'She might have been engaged.'

  'She was not wearing a ring.'

  Walter made a note in his book. He looked up and said, 'Was there anything else, Mr Collins?'

  'Yes, there is. May I have your notebook and pencil?'

  Walter's eyes widened, but he handed the book and pencil to Jack.

  Jack wrote in his name. He said, 'Just for the record, Inspector.' He handed it back. 'Don't hesitate to ask me if you need any help.'

  'Thank you,' said Walter. 'Thank you very much.'

  He waited for Jack to leave the lounge. Then he got up and went to ask a steward to point out Paul Westerfield.

  Paul was on the boat deck. He was playing in the first round of the deck tennis tournament. This involved throwing a rubber ring over a badminton net. The court had been marked in chalk on the deck. Paul's opponent was a middle-aged Englishman who compensated for his inferior agility by cunning use of the macaroni shot, which caused the ring to wobble distractingly in mid-air. It was also possible that the presence of Walter on the sideline in his bowler hat contributed to Paul's loss of concentration. He lost the deciding game conclusively. He shook the winner's hand. A young woman handed him his sweater.

  Walter said, 'Mr Westerfield, if you are not exhausted…'

  'No, sir,' said Paul, it was more of a tactical match than a test of endurance. You know my name, then. This is Miss Barbara Cordell, who I guess is also on your list.'

  'Oh, yes,' said Walter.

  'Would you like to talk to us together?'

  'Together? I hadn't considered it.'

  'We have no secrets from each other.'

  Barbara said, i believe the Inspector wants to talk to you alone, Paul.'

  'No,' said Walter. 'This will save time.'

  'Fine,' said Paul. 'Shall we go to the Verandah Cafe? I'm pretty thirsty just now.'

  The table they chose was beside a trellis screen. As the front of the cafe was open to the wind, Walter asked Barbara whether she minded sitting in a draught.

  'It's nice while the sun is out,' she told him, 'and I have my cardigan with me if I get cold. Aren't you going to take off your hat, Inspector?'

  Walter took a look round the cafe, i couldn't decide whether we were inside or out,' he explained as he placed the bowler on the seat beside him.

  'Does it matter?' asked Paul.

  'One likes to do the proper thing,' answered Walter confidentially. 'Perhaps I'm a little out of date. It's a few years since I last crossed the Atlantic'

  'We heard about that,' said Paul. 'Well, who hasn't? It's passed into maritime history now.'

  Walter drew back slightly in his seat. He said guardedly, 'Yes, but how did you know about me?'

  Paul exchanged a glance with Barbara. This could only be the English sense of humour at work. He said, i guess you're quoting Dr Crippen now.'

  'Ah,' responded Walter with more enthusiasm.

  'I can remember seeing a picture in the New York Times of you and Crippen stepping off the gangplank when you got back to England, and you were wearing the hat. I can't say that I recall which ship it was.'

  'The same one, in fact,' said Walter.

  'The Mauretania?'

  'The hat,' said Walter, picking it up. 'The same hat. Now, if I could trouble you with more recent recollections, what can you tell me about the lady who was killed on Sunday night?'

  'Katherine? Not a lot, Inspector. We only met her that evening. She asked us if we would like to play whist.'

  Barbara interrupted. 'She didn't ask me. If you remember, Paul, you invited me to join the game after it was arranged.'

  'Yes,' said Paul, is that important? Well, if you want the whole story, I was having a coffee and a brandy in the lounge after dinner with an English guy by the name of Jack Gordon. Katherine — Miss Masters — came up to us and asked us if we could do anything in the concert. She was recruiting on behalf of Mr Martinelli, the concert chairman, whose English is not so good. She wanted people to play parts in a sketch. Jack made some kind of hum
orous remark to the effect that the only thing he could play was whist. Katherine took him up on it, and that was how we fixed the game.'

  'I was still in the dining saloon with my parents,' said Barbara. 'Paul came in and asked me to join the game.'

  'We knew each other at college,' added Paul.

  'And we happened to be staying at the same hotels in Paris and London,' said Barbara.

  Walter produced a notebook. 'I'd better get some of this down. Would you care to order? I think the steward is coming.'

  'Sure,' said Paul. 'What's yours, Inspector?'

  Walter frowned.

  'What will you have to drink?'

  'Oh. Tea, if you please.'

  'Milk and sugar?'

  'No sugar. It causes cavities. Now, Miss Cordell, how do you spell your surname?'

  'B-A-R-' began Barbara.

  'No, your surname, my dear,' broke in Walter. 'Cordell.'

  'That isn't really my surname at all,' said Barbara, it's Barlinski.'

  Walter looked as if he was not prepared to believe it.

  'Livingstone Cordell is my stepfather,' Barbara explained. 'He is my mother's third husband. She divorced Daddy when I was seven years old. It's too much to keep explaining, so when people call me Cordell I don't usually correct them. Shall I spell Barlinski for you?'

  Walter pushed the pencil and notebook across the table. 'Perhaps you would write it down instead.'

  'Shall I write Paul's name as well?'

  Walter looked like a man who has been caught once too often. He nodded. When Barbara handed back the notebook he studied it closely.

  'Did you want to hear about the card game?' asked Paul.

  'Not really. I had an account of it from Mr, er,' Walter checked his notebook — 'Gordon. Tell me about him.'

  'He's nice,' said Barbara. 'He found Paul's billfold and handed it to the purser.'

  'My wallet,' Paul explained, i lost it some time after we came aboard. There was plenty of money inside — more than a grand.'

  'A thousand bucks,' said Barbara.

  'Dollars,' said Paul.

  Walter was crossing out words in his notebook.

  'I'm not short of money,' Paul went on, 'but losing that billfold was a drag.'

  'He had to borrow from Livy,' said Barbara.

  'Livy?'

  'Livingstone,'said Paul.'Her father.'

  'Stepfather,' said Barbara.

  'Does it matter?' said Paul. 'You don't want to hear about my problem with the billfold, do you?' he asked Walter. 'The point is that Jack Gordon found it and handed it in. He saved the situation, that's all.'

  'He did?' said Barbara, affronted. 'Hold on. How about giving some credit to Livy? He gave you plenty. Without his help, where would Poppy be now?'

  'Poppy?' repeated Walter with a note of desperation in his voice.

  'A friend of ours,' said Paul.

  'Ours?' said Barbara sarcastically.

  'An English girl we both met in London.'

  'She had blonde hair and a figure out here and a dress that wasn't designed to hide it,' said Barbara. 'She came to Southampton to see Paul off. Through some obscure circumstance she didn't go ashore when the bell was rung. She was taken all the way to France. In all the excitement Paul mislaid his billfold. Livy loaned him enough to pay Poppy's fare back to England.'

  'You can forget about Poppy,' Paul told Walter. 'She has nothing to do with your investigation. You asked about Jack. He's okay. He got a little upset when Katherine took out some money at the end of the game, but you couldn't blame him. She'd said a few mean things about his play but he let them pass.'

  'Cards seem to bring out the worst in people,' Walter observed.

  'As individuals they were both very likeable,' said Barbara, i had quite a long talk with Katherine after Jack had left the table and Paul was getting some coffee. She had no animosity towards Jack. She was annoyed with herself for upsetting him. We agreed between ourselves to persuade the two men to have another game the next evening.'

  'You didn't tell me that,' said Paul.

  'Why should I have done? It was just something I agreed with Katherine. I told you she offered to teach me to play bridge.'

  'What else did you two agree?' asked Paul.

  'A few things about men in general.'

  'And after that?' said Walter quickly.

  'Paul came back with the coffee, and pretty soon after, Katherine left us to go to her stateroom. It must have been around midnight then.'

  'We went into the dancing and had a couple of slow waltzes and then went off to our own rooms,' said Paul. 'The first we heard about anyone being killed was Sunday morning before lunch.'

  'I still can't understand it,' said Barbara. 'She was just a lonely woman who didn't know anyone else on the ship.'

  'Yes,' said Walter. 'It baffles me.'

  'That's not quite correct,' said Paul. 'She must have known some other people to have got on the concert committee. And don't let's forget that she was going around asking for volunteers.'

  'It's not really enough to get her murdered,' said Barbara.

  'It must have scared someone. Remember what she said when she came back from putting scent on herself?'

  'Oh, yes,' said Barbara, i forgot that.' She turned to Walter. 'Midway through the game we broke off for a drink. Katherine went back to her stateroom to freshen up. She told us when she came back that a man had stepped out into the corridor, taken one look at her and stepped back into the room as if he had seen a ghost. She was so surprised at the incident that she went back to her room to check her face again.'

  'Jack suggested it must have been some guy who was terrified of being asked to appear in the concert,' said Paul. 'Well, why else would he behave so suspiciously?'

  Walter gave a nervous cough, i'm sure I couldn't say.'

  5

  After dinner Alma went to her stateroom to do some sewing. She was glad to have something positive to do. Johnny had provided her with needle and thread and even a thimble. It was amazing how many materials and "props" came to hand when the passengers really applied themselves to creating fancy dress. In one stroll along the boat deck that afternoon she had seen pieces of rope being teased into wigs and beards, hats fashioned from table napkins and togas from Company bedspreads. With less ingenuity Alma had decided to go as a nurse. She hoped that this would enable her to participate without drawing too much attention to herself.

  There was a knock. She got up, prepared to send Johnny away. She thought she had made it clear that she would give him his fitting in the morning. It would be most improper to receive a visit from a gentleman in the evening, whatever the pretext.

  She opened the door a fraction. It was Walter. He said nothing. He expected to be admitted. She hesitated, trying to suppress her unease from the previous night.

  Walter looked more tired than threatening. She stepped back and admitted him. They did not embrace.

  He went towards the armchair.

  'Not there,' she told him. There was a needle and thread sticking into one of the arms.

  'What are you making?' he asked as he went to the upright chair.

  'Fancy dress. I'm trying to behave like any other passenger.'

  'Good.'

  'It's easier for me. Nobody is watching me. I keep wondering how you are managing. It must be a terrible strain trying to convince them that you are a detective.'

  'I am a little weary,' said Walter, 'but they accept me as Dew.'

  'How do you know which questions to ask?'

  'Oddly enough, I haven't asked many. People just talk to me. I try to make reasonably interested responses. I take down their names in my notebook to the best of my ability. They all treat me with awe so far. I wonder how long it can last.'

  'We're supposed to be reaching New York on Thursday morning,' said Alma. 'Three more nights.'

  'I don't mind the nights. I have the impression that people will start expecting me to reach some conclusions soon. I promised to speak to the
captain later this evening.'

  'Is there anything you can tell him?'

  'Practically nothing. A faint suspicion of something — not murder, unfortunately.'

  'What's that, Walter?'

  'I talked to the people who were playing whist with the victim on the evening she was murdered. There was a rather smooth-tongued fellow, English, with light-coloured hair plastered back from his forehead. And a young American couple, probably very rich. While I was listening to them I found my thoughts harking back to my days in the music halls. I told you the kind of thing I used to do, didn't I?'

  'Mind-reading. Walter, how brilliant! You read their minds!'

  He shook his head. 'Nothing so impressive as that. What I mean is that I was reminded of the way we obtained our volunteers from the audience.'

  'Yes, you told me. You called them plants.'

  'Yes. It's no more than a sort of intuition, but I can't help feeling that Gordon — the unctuous Englishman — planted himself on the young Americans.'

  'To cheat them at cards?'

  'Ultimately. You see, Westerfield — the American — mislaid his wallet and Gordon picked it up and handed it to the purser. Naturally, Westerfield went to thank him. There was a bond of confidence between them. While they were having a drink Katherine Masters came by, apparently seeking volunteers for the concert. Instead, a game of cards was got up. On the face of it, a perfectly spontaneous arrangement.'

  'But you suspect that she was in collusion with Gordon?'

  'It crossed my mind. It would be a neat confidence trick. Gordon said not a word to me about the wallet being found.'

  'Is that significant?'

  'It is if the wallet was lifted from Westerfield's pocket and put somewhere for Gordon to pick up.'

  'Who would have done that?'

  'A girl called Poppy who came aboard with Westerfield.'

  'It sounds a very elaborate fraud, Walter. Did they win a lot of money?'

  'They lost.'

  Alma shook her head sympathetically. 'It rather knocks your theory on the head, doesn't it?'

  'No. As you say, it's elaborate. If there's anything in it at all, they wouldn't be aiming at one evening's cards. They would go through the week raising the stakes, and make their killing on the last night.'