by Carola Dunn
Daisy was glad to see that the white china basin on the floor between the berths was empty. No doubt it was a wife’s duty to hold his head, make soothing noises, and empty slops, but the longer she could postpone it the better. It was entirely by choice that she had worked in a hospital office, not on the wards as a VAD nurses’ aide, in the last years of the War.
“Poor darling.” Sitting down on the other berth, the one they had both squeezed into every night so far, she noticed the spray constantly spattering the porthole. She regarded Alec’s greenish pallor with sympathy—and a touch of smugness, she had to admit to herself.
“Go away and let me die in peace.”
“No one ever died of sea-sickness.”
“Maybe not, but just now I’d like to.”
“Buck up, darling,” Daisy said bracingly. “I’ve got lots of news.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my ears, and I can hear just as well lying down. With my eyes shut.”
“Right-oh, but first tell me what Denton told you. Everything I’ve discovered may be irrelevant.”
“He’s too ill to speak. He wasn’t hit on the head, Amboyne says, but he’s unconscious, lucky devil.”
“Oh dear! The Dentons first, then. Mrs. Denton says they’re ordinary farm people, from Suffolk. A younger son emigrated and made enough money to pay their fare for a visit to America. The older son is in charge of the farm while they’re gone. He’ll inherit it when Denton dies, but I can’t see him sneaking away to sea to bump his father off, let alone hiring someone to do it, can you?”
Alec groaned.
“According to Mrs. Denton, her husband is not a big drinker and is healthy as a horse—or was till last night. Not subject to dizzy spells, but she suspects the effect of the sea-air, which everyone knows is treacherous.”
“It’s not the air; it’s the water,” Alec muttered.
“Denton only had one pint of beer last night,” Daisy continued, “before he went up to the boat-deck to smoke his pipe. I didn’t like to ask if he’s the quarrelsome sort, who might have made enemies. Even if he is, I simply cannot believe a village squabble could lead to an elaborate plan for murder at sea. And the odds against anyone he knows being on board by chance must be astronomical.”
“Nautical, at any rate.”
“If you’re making bad jokes, you must be feeling a bit better, darling. I’m sure a breath of fresh air, however treacherous, would do you good.”
Alec merely grunted, but at least his eyes were open now.
Guessing that listening to her kept his mind off his troubles, Daisy quickly went on. “On the other hand, I bet everyone in the Dentons’ village knows all about their trip, what ship they’re sailing on, how long they’ll be away, the lot. You’re a townsman, but that’s how it is in the country. So if someone did dislike him enough to plot to kill him …”
“Highly improbable.”
“You really believe the whole thing is a storm in a tea-cup?”
“Don’t talk to me about storms!”
“Sorry, darling. Well, since you’ve squashed my only conjecture arising from what Mrs. Denton told me, I’ll go on to Brenda.”
“Dash it, Daisy, you didn’t question Lady Brenda!” He sat up and swung his legs off the berth. “I wanted to talk to her before anyone put any ideas into her head.”
“I didn’t mean to. I was looking for you and she was sitting in a deck-chair looking so miserable I couldn’t just go past.”
Alec sighed. “No, knowing you, I suppose you couldn’t. All right, what did she have to say?”
“I didn’t exactly question her either, nor put ideas into her head. She was dying to talk. Chester Riddman, who’s her fiancé, told her to apologize for making a fuss and spreading rumours.”
“I thought so!”
“Wait! So I asked her why she’d made up such a story, and she said she hadn’t. She saw a man sneak up on Denton. He bent down and she thought he’d stooped to pick something up—perhaps he’d noticed something valuable which he didn’t want to be seen snabbling. But then he heaved and Denton flew over the rail. Well, toppled, anyway.”
“Merely corrob—”
“—orative detail intended to lend verisimilitude … I knew you’d say that.”
“All the same,” said Alec thoughtfully, “it’s exactly the scenario I’d envisioned.”
“I suppose it would be pretty difficult to send someone over with just a shove.”
“Yes, but I wouldn’t have thought she was bright enough to work it out for herself.”
“She’s not really thick,” Daisy protested, “just rather silly.”
“I wonder whether Harvey is sufficiently infatuated to suggest it to her in spite of my prohibition.”
“Harvey? The second officer? I thought he was just doing his duty by a prominent and pestiferous passenger.”
“Up on the boat-deck in the moonlight?”
“I wouldn’t put it past Brenda to drag him there. She may not be thick, but she’s pretty silly.”
“I dare say, but I doubt it took much dragging. She may only be trying to score off Riddman. Harvey’s smitten.”
Daisy frowned. “All the same, why would Harvey explain to her the best way to chuck a man overboard? Just so that she wouldn’t look quite such an utter ass?”
“It’s weak,” Alec admitted, “but possible. I’ll have to ask him. Sorry, love, for a minute it did seem that Lady Brenda’s story might have something in it.”
“It still might. You don’t think she’s in danger, do you, if she really did see something?”
“Hardly. Since she broadcast the news to the world immediately, there’s no reason to shut her up.”
“No, of course. Then we come back to why on earth anyone would … Oh, Alec, what if it was a mistake? Suppose Harvey mistook Denton for Riddman and decided to dispose of the competition?”
“What an imagination you have, love!”
“No, seriously, darling. You’re the one who said he’s madly in love with Brenda. I get the impression Riddman has some sort of hold over her, and she claims to hate him. It would explain her hysterics if she suddenly realized the wrong man went over.”
“Great Scott, Daisy, are you inventing complications just to get me up and moving? I suppose now I’ll have to investigate the possibility of a Suffolk small farmer being mistaken for an American playboy. I wonder what Denton was wearing?”
“You didn’t ask Harvey? He must know as he hauled him out. And Riddman’s probably in the Smoking Room. You can look for him after lunch.”
“Urgh,” uttered Alec, reaching for the basin. “Go away!”
Wishing she had not mentioned smoking or lunch, Daisy fled.
8
Banished from Alec’s side, Daisy felt rather at loose ends. She wondered what she could do that would help him without irritating him.
Or perhaps irritation was an efficacious remedy against sea-sickness. At least she might try to get a physical description of Mr. Denton to see if he could possibly have been mistaken for Riddman. The latter, she recalled, was tall and thin. His darkish hair had been sleeked back, and he was very well dressed—unlikely to be true of Denton. But if Denton had put on an overcoat and hat, as instructed by his wife, the pomaded hair and perfect evening togs would be hidden, so to speak.
Denton had gone up to smoke his pipe. Did Riddman ever smoke a pipe? He looked more the cigarette or cigar type. Brenda would know, of course, but if there was anything in the theory at all, she was probably involved. Alec would be simply livid if Daisy put her on the qui vive.
The first thing was to establish whether Denton was tall and thin.
Mrs. Denton should be sleeping. Daisy didn’t want to ask the steward she had had to put in his place. Dr. Amboyne was the man to approach. She knew him, and he knew Alec was supposed to be investigating, semi-officially.
In the waiting room, a fair, plump woman in nurse’s uniform, crackling with starch, was putting sticking plast
er on the forehead of the small boy who had been having such fun with his toy car. Daisy sat down and waited patiently.
“You want to be careful in these seas, Mrs. Beale,” the nurse said to the child’s mother. “Don’t take Bennie out on the open deck. Little kiddies lose their balance that easy, and we don’t want him sliding over the edge, do we?”
“It’s criminal,” said Mrs. Beale fiercely in a rather adenoidal voice, “the way there’s that great gap below the bottom rail. Why, anyone might slide through.”
“Well, we haven’t lost anyone that way yet.”
“I’m going to get my husband to write to the steamship company. They ought to put in a solid barrier.”
“Oh, they can’t do that. They have to be able to sluice down the deck, and then think what’d happen when the seas come over.” The nurse laughed merrily. “My heavens, you’d have water sloshing back and forth with no way out, and then sometimes when the waves are big we get fishes and octopuses, even sharks landing on the deck. Wouldn’t want them barricaded in, would you?”
Mrs. Beale gaped at her, appalled. “Waves come over the promenade deck?”
“Not often,” the nurse disclaimed hastily.
“Gosh, Mummy, I hope a octopus comes and I can catch it and keep it for a pet!”
“You are not going out on deck unless there’s a dead calm, young man. And don’t say ‘gosh.’ Thank Nurse nicely and come along now.”
They left, and the nurse turned to Daisy.
“Do you really get sea creatures landing on deck?” Daisy asked.
“Oh yes, madam. Not that often though. I wanted to make sure Mrs. Beale doesn’t take the little one out. You never can tell what some mothers’ll do, ’specially when they’re used to a nanny, but I didn’t reckon on the young limb wanting to take home an octopussy for a pet.” She laughed again. “Fancy that! I hope I haven’t put ideas into his head. Now what can I do for you, madam? Surgery’s closed and Doctor’s not in.”
“I just wanted to ask after Mr. Denton. I was in here earlier with my husband, and I met Mrs. Denton.”
“You’ll be the lady took her to her cabin?” The nurse nodded approvingly. “Doctor told me about you, and he said Captain Dane asked your hubby to find out how Mr. Denton came to fall. Mrs. Fletcher, is it?”
“That’s right. Unfortunately, Alec’s been laid low by sea-sickness. Would you mind if I asked you one or two questions?”
“Right you are. I’ll just pop in and see how he’s doing. Doctor’s catching a spot of shut-eye having been up all night, so I don’t leave him alone for more than a minute or two when there’s something needs doing in here. I’ll be right back.”
She popped and returned, shaking her head.
“Not good?” said Daisy.
“His breathing’s something awful, poor lamb. I hope he’s not going to slip away. That’s why I went to sea instead of hospital or private work, we hardly ever have people pass on, which is what I don’t care about with nursing, to tell the truth. What did you want to know, madam?”
“Mostly just whether he’s tall or short, fat or thin. Alec’s trying to work out exactly how he could have fallen over the rail.”
“It is odd, isn’t it? He’s on the short side, sort of stocky if you know what I mean, not a big man but quite strong I should have thought. After all, he’s a farmer and it’s a hard life. My uncle’s a farmer.”
If Denton was short, that just about put paid to Daisy’s theory. He could not have been mistaken for the tall, thin American. On the other hand, it made it less likely that he could have fallen without a boost. “What was he wearing when they brought him in?” she asked, in case the information might turn out to be useful anyway.
“Oh, we weren’t here, me and the doctor, not right away. By the time they fetched us both, Mr. Harvey’d stripped Mr. Denton’s wet stuff off and had it taken away. All sailors know it’s the wet and cold that’s worst, you see; it can kill you even if you haven’t inhaled water, like poor Mr. Denton did. It’s a wonder they got him out quick enough that he didn’t drown. Like I told Mrs. Denton, it’s Fate, that’s what it is, and he’s not meant to go yet. ‘You hold that thought, dearie,’ I told her.”
“I’m sure it’s a comfort to her,” Daisy said sincerely. She had known too many nurses, in that war-time hospital, who always prophesied the worst. “Thank you so much for your help.”
“Is that all? Well, that wasn’t hard, I must say. What does Mr. Fletcher think happened then; was it just an accident or did the young lady really see—Oh, bother!” she exclaimed as a passenger came in and deprived her of her gossip, to Daisy’s relief. “Can I help you, sir?”
“Nurse, my wife’s most frightfully ill. You simply must do something!”
“Sea-sick? Dry toast or plain biscuits and fresh air.”
“I insist on seeing the doctor.”
“Dr. Amboyne won’t tell you any different, sir, and that’s the truth. He was up all night with a patient, and you won’t catch me waking him, not for sea-sickness.”
The passenger started to argue. Daisy slipped out with a farewell wave, wondering whether she could coax Alec to eat some dry toast and go up on deck. Perhaps he’d be willing to give Miss Oliphant’s remedies a chance, too.
She would try after lunch, she decided, or else she might find herself missing the meal to share his spartan rations.
In the meantime—she glanced at her wrist-watch, a present from Alec—it was too late to get any work done, even if she had not left her notes in the cabin. She might as well see if she could find out what Denton had been wearing. It just might be significant. Alec was always saying any detail could prove vital.
Since Denton was short and sturdy, Lady Brenda could not possibly have mistaken him for Riddman. She was no longer a suspect, so Daisy could ask her about the clothes. Clinging to the handrail, she went up to the promenade deck.
Arbuckle, Phillip, and Gloria were on their reserved deck-chairs, Arbuckle with his head bowed over some number-covered papers on his lap. Miss Oliphant was with them. Daisy asked Gloria if she knew where Brenda was.
“She’s having her hair done. They gave her an appointment right away because so many people are laid low.”
“Has Mr. Gotobed succumbed?”
“No, he went to see how Wanda’s doing.”
“Alec’s feeling pretty rotten.” She glared at Phillip when he snickered. “Miss Oliphant, if I persuade him to take it, can you spare some of whatever it is you recommend?”
“Of course, my dear, though I must remind you that, as I said, it is better taken before the onset of symptoms. Still, I have plenty of mint tea, a mixture of peppermint and spearmint, and if that does not help, enough ginger for one or two people. Should either relieve Mr. Fletcher, however, I must ask you not to trumpet my fame abroad. I have not sufficient for everyone aboard.”
“I bet they have ginger in the galleys, though,” said Gloria. “Is yours the same as cooking ginger?”
“The grated root is to be preferred to the powdered form. I should not wish anyone who failed to be helped by the powder to discount therefore the efficacy of all herbal remedies.”
“Maybe they have some roots,” said Phillip, unfolding his lanky length from the chair. “I’ll go and find out.”
“We can ask the steward at lunch, honey.”
“Just showing willing, dash it, so that Daisy stops scowling at me.”
“Thanks, old dear,” said Daisy, laughing. “But before we go upsetting the cooks, let’s hope Alec agrees to try the mint tea and that it works.”
A steward came round, booming on his portable gong. They all stood up to go to the dining room, all except Arbuckle. Daisy realized he had been unusually silent. His long face was wan.
“Poppa?”
“I’m not that hungry, honey. You go ahead.”
Phillip and Daisy exchanged meaningful glances.
“Mint tea?” the witch suggested hesitantly.
Arbuckle
shuddered, making shooing gestures. “I’ll be just fine. I have some work to do.”
They left him. In the dining room, they discovered, wooden bars had been raised along the edges of the table to stop things sliding off. “Fiddles, we call ’em,” said the steward, handing out menus.
Dr. Amboyne did not come in, so the table was half empty, but Gotobed appeared as they were studying the bill of fare. He sat down next to Daisy, and she asked politely after Wanda.
“Ee, lass, she’s none so grand. Any road, that’s what her maid telt me. She won’t see me,” he said gloomily.
“I expect she knows she looks as wretched as she feels.”
“Aye. Well, there’s nowt more I can do, for she doesn’t care to try Miss Oliphant’s simples.”
“And she won’t let you help her up for some fresh air, I suppose.”
“So Baines says, and happen Wanda’s right to refuse. I was up a bit ago. There’s a rough, blustery wind blowing, and spray everywhere—reminds me o’ walking on the fells wi’ me da when I were a lad. It’s not right, but, for a delicate lass used to town ways. She were on the London stage, you know.” He sighed. “She were that excited about sailing to America, but mebbe it wasn’t such a grand notion after all.”
Daisy was far too well brought up to ask if he was also having second thoughts about having married Wanda, but that did not stop her wondering. “It was fine the first two days,” she pointed out, “and I dare say it won’t stay rough all the way across. She’ll enjoy seeing America, anyway.”
“Aye, that she will.” Gotobed cheered up, in the process losing much of the Yorkshire influence in his speech. “I’m greatly looking forward to it myself. You and Fletcher are off to Washington, I gather?”
The others joined in the conversation, with Gloria frequently applied to as the fount of all knowledge. Daisy asked Miss Oliphant what her plans were.
The witch, with the aid of a small legacy, intended to tour small towns in the long-settled eastern states, where she hoped to find people who remembered old herbal remedies. “Then, if my funds stretch so far,” she said, “I shall visit Indian reservations to learn what I can about native medicine. Witch hazel is an example, widely used now, of course. I am sure there must be other plants whose medicinal properties are little known.”