To Davy Jones Below

by Carola Dunn

  “Bless her,” said Amboyne. “What can I do for you, Fletcher? Not sea-sick, I assume. Those patients rarely make it to my surgery, and there’s not much help I can give them anyway, poor devils.”

  “I am not sea-sick,” Alec said, more loudly and firmly than he had intended. “In fact, I’m not a patient. Much against my will, I’ve been unmasked as a policeman, and Captain Dane wants me to find out just what happened to Mr. Denton. I’ve one or two questions to put to you; then I must speak to him.”

  “Impossible, I’m afraid.”

  “I promise I shan’t …”

  “I mean impossible. I’m not just being cautious. Denton is comatose. He has developed pneumonia, and whatever I may have said to his wife, I’m not at all certain I can pull him through.”

  7

  Daisy got the cabin number from Mrs. Denton and steered the weeping woman along the corridors, feeling rather like a tug tackling the Vaterland. On the way, she collared a steward and ordered tea and sandwiches to be brought to the cabin.

  Hearing the number, he protested, “But that’s in tourist. We don’t—”

  “This time you do,” Daisy informed him, attempting to infuse her blue eyes with some of Alec’s grey-eyed iciness or at least her mother’s hauteur. “Doctor’s orders.”

  “Yes, madam. Right away.”

  The cabin was more or less a replica of the Fletchers’, with nowhere to sit but the berths or a couple of fold-down seats.

  “At least it’s private,” said Daisy, as Mrs. Denton flopped down on one of the berths.

  “Oh yes, ma‘am. Our Danny wouldn’t hear of me and Pa going third. That’s not much better than steerage, he said. We’d’ve had to go in sep’rate cabins, him with men and me with women I didn’t know.”

  “You mustn’t call me ma’am. Alec and I are tourist class, too.”

  “But you talk posh; I can tell you’re a lady. We’re just plain Suffolk farm folk.”

  “Is Danny your son?”

  That was the right question. Mrs. Denton’s mind was taken off her husband’s plight to dwell on the excellencies of their youngest. Having emigrated to America and made good, he had paid his parents’ fares to visit him.

  “He wanted us to give the farm to his brother and go and live there,” said Mrs. Denton, “but me and Pa, we’re stuck in our ways, I reckon. Time enough for Albert to get the farm when we die. ‘Sides, there’s Albert’s kids, and Betty and Molly married with kids and living in the village just by. We wouldn’t feel right leaving ’em all.”

  A Suffolk farmer—what enemies could he possibly have? There might be local people he had offended, Daisy supposed, but surely fisticuffs outside the village pub on a Saturday night were more likely than following him aboard the Talavera to murder him.

  Albert, eager to inherit before his time? Presumably he had been left in charge of the farm during his father’s absence, and he had a wife and children, so he could hardly depart for several weeks without being missed. In any case, if Danny had had to pay the Dentons’ fares, it didn’t sound as if Albert was likely to be able to afford a ticket.

  While Daisy pondered, Mrs. Denton had gone on to enumerate her swarms of grandchildren, with names, ages, and salient characteristics. Unfortunately, Albert’s youngest’s chief delight was following his grandpa around the farm “helping.”

  “He’s only five, but he does what he can.” Mrs. Denton’s broad face crumpled. “And now, lor’ knows if he’ll ever see his grandpa alive again!”

  A knock at the door saved Daisy. Tea and sandwiches arrived. Mrs. Denton accepted a cup of tea and drank thirstily but waved away the sandwiches.

  “I couldn’t, not while Pa’s lying there …”

  Daisy put the plate on the berth beside her; and as she went on talking, the sandwiches gradually disappeared.

  “Never had a day’s illness afore, my Bert, saving little accidents like you get on a farm. Healthy as a horse, the doctor said, when he went in to get his hand stitched up a month or two back.”

  “Then I’m sure he will recover nicely.”

  “Oh no, ma’am. The doctor—this ship’s doctor—he says Bert breathed in water into his lungs, and that and the cold’s gave him new-monier. How come he fell in, that’s what I want to know. We was in the Grand Saloon watching the dancing and he had a pint of mild, that’s all.”

  “Just one pint?” Daisy asked.

  “Just one. He’s not a tippler, my Albert, not like some I could name.”

  “And then he went up to the boat-deck?”

  “Aye. ‘I fancies a pipe, Ma,’ says he, ‘and a spot o’ fresh air. Coming up with me?’ says he. ‘Not me,’ says I, “tis mid-October, not midsummer. You wrap up, go get your coat and hat on,’ I told him. ’Course at home he’s out in all weather, but sea-air, it’s not like at home, is it?”

  “Bracing,” Daisy suggested.

  “That’s it, bracing. Everyone knows you can’t trust it. It must’ve made him come over dizzy, mustn’t it? And if I’d gone along like he wanted me to, maybe I’d’ve been able to catch him!”

  “And maybe you’d have been pulled over, too.”

  “What’ll I do without him?” Big fat tears dribbled down her plump cheeks, but a vast yawn took her by surprise. “Beg pardon, ma’am. I was up all night, you see.”

  “Then you must lie down now to keep your strength up, as Dr. Amboyne advised. I’m sure he will send word if there’s any change. Shall I help you get ready for bed?” Daisy offered bravely.

  “Oh no, thank you. You’ve been that kind, but I’m used to doing for meself. I didn’t think I’d be able to sleep a wink, but …” She yawned again.

  “You will let me know if there’s any way I can help, won’t you? Here, I’ll write down my name and cabin number.” Daisy tore the sheet from the notebook she carried at all times. “You can always send a steward to find me.”

  Mrs. Denton looked alarmed at the thought of ordering one of those grand beings to do her will, but she nodded, and Daisy left her yawning.

  Yawns being contagious, she yawned herself as she set out to look for Alec. Not that she felt in the least sleepy. She was dying to hear what he had found out from Denton, though the more she considered, the less probable it seemed that a Suffolk yeoman farmer should be the target of murder. Of course it had been an accident.

  She stuck her head into the doctor’s waiting room, but no one was there. Alec might have been in the sick-bay still, but she doubted he would spend so long with a man as ill as Denton must be. She went on up to the promenade deck.

  Arbuckle and Gotobed were ensconced in their deck-chairs. As Daisy approached, she gathered that they were arguing over whether shipping or aviation was the best investment for the future.

  “There will always be a place for ships, any road,” Gotobed conceded, “for large and bulk cargoes, and for pleasure cruises. But for people travelling long distances, the day of the aeroplane is coming, mark my words.”

  “Not much! You’re never going to find that many people willing to take their lives in their hands in one of those crates. Say, Mrs. Fletcher, how’d you feel about going up in an airplane?”

  “Alec has promised to take me up one day,” said Daisy, smiling at his surprise. “He was a pilot in the Royal Flying Corps during the War. Have you seen him, by the way?”

  “Not since breakfast, which he left in an almighty hurry,” said Arbuckle, and Gotobed shook his head. They both had that smug expression of the non-sea-sick.

  Daisy gave Arbuckle a severe look. “He went to see the Captain. I’ve talked to him since then.”

  “You must think I’m a regular blab-mouth,” said Arbuckle penitently. “Spilling the beans to the Captain about Fletcher, I mean. But there seems to be some question about what happened last night, and there’s no one I’d rather trust to clear it up.”

  “It doesn’t look as if there’s anything in it. I wonder where he’s got to?”

  Taking her leave, Daisy heard th
e argument resume behind her.

  “And what’s more, airplanes are always on the fritz. You’d never keep to a schedule.”

  “Now that’s where America’s behind Europe! We’ve already got passenger air service companies running scheduled flights between big cities. I’ve flown from London to Paris myself and on to Berlin.”

  “Is that so?” said Arbuckle, as Daisy passed beyond earshot.

  She knew Alec wanted to talk to Lady Brenda. The writing-room seemed a good place for a quiet interview, so she headed that way. Then she saw the girl, huddled in a deck-chair with a plaid rug over her knees. She was alone and looked thoroughly miserable.

  “May I join you, Lady Brenda?” Daisy asked.

  “Oh yes, please do, Mrs. Fletcher,” said Lady Brenda eagerly, “but please drop the title. Call me Birdie. Everyone does.”

  “Right-oh, and I’m Daisy.”

  “I want to thank you for last night, Daisy.”

  “Gosh, that was nothing. I’m glad Miss Oliphant was able to help you. Did you sleep well?”

  “Marvellously. Better than in a long time. Chester said I was beginning to look like an old hag, with bags under my eyes. Chester’s livid—he says I have to apologize,” she added resentfully.

  “Apologize? Whatever for?”

  “For getting all ‘het up,’ in his words, and spreading rumours.”

  “Then you didn’t see Mr. Denton pushed over?” Daisy tried not to sound regretful. “Have you already told my husband?”

  “Mr. Fletcher? No, why? I don’t believe I have met him.”

  “Maybe not,” Daisy said vaguely. “Why on earth did you make up a story like that, Birdie?”

  “But I didn’t! Chester thinks I was just trying to make myself interesting, but I wasn’t, truly. I saw someone creep up to him—Mr. Denton, you said?”

  “Yes. Creep? Bent double?”

  “No, just walking slowly and cautiously. At least, that’s the impression I got, as if he didn’t want to be heard. And then …” Brenda looked sick at the memory.

  “He pushed?”

  “Not exactly. He suddenly bent down. I thought he must have spotted some money someone dropped and wanted to bag it without being noticed. Then he gave a sort of heave and the other man practically flew over the rail. That’s when I screamed.”

  “Gosh, I don’t blame you!” Daisy was puzzled. After talking to Mrs. Denton, she had pretty much given up on the attempted murder theory, but Brenda was much more convincing this morning.

  No doubt Alec would point out that she had had all night to think up improvements to her story. He would trot out that favourite quotation of his from Mikado: “Merely corroborative detail intended to lend artistic verisimilitude to an otherwise bald and unconvincing narrative.”

  “It was simply frightful.” Brenda shuddered. “I’m so glad they fished him out. But you won’t tell anyone else, will you? Ron—Mr. Harvey—asked me to keep it to myself so as not to start a panic on the ship. And please don’t tell Chester I told you. He’s got a fearful temper.”

  “Of course not. Is he your brother?” Daisy asked disingenuously.

  “My fiancé. I hate him!” she said, in a low voice but with startling vehemence.

  “Then why?”

  “Money. My father died less than a year after my grandfather, and the death duties were simply crushing. Mumsie squeezed enough out of my brother—not that it’s his fault, poor pet—to take me up to London for a husband-hunt. I don’t suppose you went through all that. I’m not saying I didn’t have fun, all the parties, dancing till dawn and then piling into someone’s car and motoring to Maidenhead to go on the river, silly stuff like that.”

  “And then you met … What’s his surname?”

  “Riddman.”

  “Riddman?” Daisy had a vague memory of having heard the name recently, but could not remember in what context.

  “Chester F. Riddman III, ‘the Third’ meaning old money by American standards. His great-grandfather bought the patent of the safety pin from the inventor, for a hundred dollars, and made millions. Chester’s grandfather decided it was time the family added a spot of blue blood, so he sent Chester to Europe to find a titled bride. And he found me.”

  “But he can’t have forced you to get engaged.”

  “Oh no, I liked him right from the first. And I thought he liked me.” Brenda sounded bewildered. “We had a lot of fun together, doing all sorts of crazy things. I was thrilled when he asked me to marry him and so was Mumsie. Not that she approved of all our larks, but she liked the look of the money. So we got engaged, and that was fun, too. We had a ripping engagement party at the Ritz, and all my friends were frightfully envious.”

  “Then what went wrong?”

  “We’d been going to a gambling club, a swish place, lashings of good champagne, not a dive, but it was madly exciting because it could have been raided by the police at any moment. We—Oh, hello, Miss Oliphant.”

  “Good morning, my dear,” said the witch, with a kindly smile. “I hope you feel better this morning?”

  “Much. Won’t you sit down? It was frightfully kind of you to take such good care of me last night. I was an absolute ninny making such a fuss, but it was a fearful shock seeing Mr. Denton fall overboard.”

  “It was most fortunate that you did, or he might not have been rescued so promptly, if at all.”

  Brenda brightened. “That’s true, isn’t it? But I shouldn’t have let my imagination run away with me.” She cast a look of appeal at Daisy. “The moonlight was very deceptive, wasn’t it?”

  “Frightfully,” said Daisy, then caught herself up. It was rather infra dig, she had decided, for the wife of a Detective Chief Inspector to go around saying “frightfully.” “Clouds kept dashing across the face of the moon,” she explained to Miss Oliphant, “so shadows moved, or at least seemed to.”

  She was no nearer coming to a conclusion as to whether Brenda’s story was true. For once she would be glad to let Alec make up his own mind without trying to influence him.

  With Miss Oliphant sitting on Brenda’s other side, Daisy was not going to hear any more about Chester Riddman. She was about to excuse herself to resume her search for Alec when a young deck steward brought elevenses, the usual bouillon and biscuits.

  “Not many customers this morning,” he said with a cheeky wink, “and it’ll get rougher before it gets smoother.”

  “I say, don’t frighten the ladies,” said Phillip severely, coming up behind him with Gloria.

  “I seem to be quite all right,” Daisy said cautiously.

  “So far,” observed the steward, not quite sotto voce. “Another biscuit, madam?”

  Daisy took two, just in case Phillip and Gloria inveigled her into any vigorous games. They joined the group, and the others were treated to a tug-by-tug description of the tug-o’-war.

  “I busted three nails,” said Gloria ruefully, spreading her hands, “and chipped the polish. I better go make an appointment at the beauty parlour for a manicure.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Brenda said. “I must get my hair done. The salt air is simply murder.”

  They went off together, and then Miss Oliphant went to look for a library book, leaving Daisy and Phillip together.

  “Have you seen Alec?” she asked. “I don’t know where he’s got to.”

  “Sea-sick, isn’t he?” Phillip said with a heartless grin. “He left breakfast in quite a hurry. I expect he’s in your cabin in bed.”

  Daisy was indignant. “He’s done lots since breakfast. The Captain asked him to investigate Mr. Denton’s falling overboard.”

  “How do you like being married to a ’tec, old bean?”

  “He hasn’t done any detecting since we’ve been married, except this business, and it doesn’t look as if there’s anything in it.”

  “I suppose you’re mixed up in his fishy business, as usual. Dash it, Daisy, why don’t you keep your nose out of things?”

  “You’
re a fine one to talk! It’s not so long since you begged me to sort out your own fishy business.”

  Phillip had the grace to look abashed. “That was for Gloria,” he said doggedly in extenuation. “And …”

  “And Alec had to join in and pull your hot potatoes out of the fire for you. He nearly got into frightful trouble over that.”

  “Yes, but that’s his job. He really ought to stop you meddling in his cases.”

  “He can’t,” she said with considerable satisfaction, “though actually it’s just as often I who involve him. I just seem to land in the middle of things.”

  “At least you’ll stop this writing tommy-rot now you’re married.”

  “Not likely!” Daisy exclaimed. “Even if I wanted to, or Alec wanted me to, which he doesn’t, your own poppa-in-law’s responsible for my present job of work. You introduced him to me.”

  “Americans,” Phillip muttered, “they don’t quite cotton on to what’s expected of a lady.”

  “I didn’t notice you trying to stop Gloria going with you to inspect the engines. Don’t let’s quarrel, old dear. I really must go and find Alec. I’ll try the cabin first,” she conceded.

  “Right-ho. Dashed fond of you still, you know, old bean,” Phillip said anxiously, giving her a hand to rise from the low deck-chair. “Just feel I ought to put in a word since Gervaise can’t.”

  Daisy patted his cheek. “I know, Phillip. But I never did anything Gervaise told me to; and to do him justice, he rarely tried to make me. Toodle-oo.”

  “Pip-pip. See you at lunch.”

  Making her way down the companion-way, Daisy realized that the Talavera was tossing about noticeably more than earlier. The handrails along the passages came in useful now and then to steady her steps. At one point, she didn’t grab on quite quick enough and found herself on the opposite side of the corridor. The heaves and bucks were fairly regular though, once one caught their rhythm. It was rather like dancing.

  She found Alec not in but on his berth, curled up and hugging his stomach. He groaned as she entered, but he did not open his eyes.