To Davy Jones Below

by Carola Dunn

  “With his wife,” said Amboyne. “She may go at any moment. By the way, Denton is fit to answer questions at last.”

  “Thank you. I shan’t intrude now.” Alec sat down beside Daisy. In a low voice, he told her what the steward had said. “So you see, there’s the opportunity, the last piece of the puzzle.”

  “You must hear his side of the story,” she objected.

  “I shall, but I have Captain Dane’s authorization to arrest him. When the Talavera sails back, he’ll be taken back to England to stand trial.”

  Daisy had no answer.

  The doctor went off to see his other patients. Daisy, Alec, and Miss Oliphant sat in silence, waiting. How long they waited Daisy had no idea. It seemed like forever, yet when the nurse came in, she thought, “Not already!”

  “She’s gone, poor lamb.” From the open door behind her came racking sobs. Miss Oliphant started up, her face twisting. The nurse shut the door. “Mrs. Denton’s with him and maybe that’s best, madam; she doesn’t know anything but he’s lost a loved one, nothing on her mind except to comfort him as best she can.”

  Miss Oliphant subsided, looking distressed but conscious that she was by no means so disinterested.

  “He’s shattered!” Daisy said to Alec.

  “That doesn’t mean he didn’t kill her. Which in turn doesn’t mean his reaction is not perfectly sincere.”

  Daisy unhappily acknowledged the possibility. Her heart went out to Gotobed, guilty or not.

  “Why did Mrs. Gotobed leave the room in the middle of the meal?” asked Alec.

  “I left first.” Gotobed’s face was alarmingly grey. He looked quite incapable of leaving the armchair where he drooped in the suite’s sitting room, the Ferellis having been evicted. “She asked me to fetch her a handkerchief. She said they were in a drawer in the dressing-table, in a sachet on top, but I couldn’t find them without pawing through her … things, which I didn’t care to do. So I called her to come and look for herself.”

  “And you went back to the table.”

  “Not until she’d found the damned sachet. It was right at the bottom. She blamed Baines.”

  Alec tried a different approach. “At what stage in the meal was this?”

  Gotobed thought. “It must have been after the steward brought the main course. The tournedos were already on the plates, under covers, but the potatoes and vegetables were in serving dishes. He’d brought carrots instead of peas, which suited me fine, but Wanda insisted on peas. He went off to get them, and that’s when she decided she wanted a handkerchief.”

  “So she went into the bedroom to fetch one.”

  “I went,” said Gotobed, shaking his head. “I was happy to do such little errands for her. I loved her. That’s why I married her. I would never have done anything to harm her.”

  “Not even when you discovered that she was not really your wife?” Alec infused his voice with disbelief.

  “What?” Gotobed sat up straight, a hint of colour touching his cheeks. “What the devil do you mean by that, Fletcher?”

  “There is irrefutable evidence that Wanda Fairchild—to start with her stage name—was born Wanda Pertwee and, some fifteen years ago, married Henry Welford.”

  “Pertwee? Welford?” Gotobed gaped at him, angry colour rising. “Poppycock!”

  “Detective Constable Piper found the records at Somerset House and obtained certified copies. There was no divorce.”

  Alec jumped up as every vestige of colour fled from Gotobed’s face. He seemed to crumple, looking old and ill. If it was a performance, it was a very convincing performance, Alec thought uneasily. Unless the shock was not the facts but having his motive discovered?

  “Shall I fetch the doctor, sir?” As Gotobed shook his head, Alec went over to the small cabinet in the corner where his search of the suite had turned up a bottle of whisky. He poured half a tumbler, added a splash of water from a carafe, and took the glass to Gotobed.

  “Thank you. Help yourself.” He took a gulp.

  Alec hesitated, then poured himself a more modest drink and returned to his seat. He was no longer quite ready to arrest Gotobed. Yet what solution could there be other than that Gotobed had murdered Pertwee, Welford, and Wanda?

  But that would not explain Denton’s dive. Suddenly, Alec was very keen to interview the Suffolk farmer. He ought to speak to the steward again, too, to see if more thorough questioning brought to light any evidence that Gotobed had gone into the bedroom first. After all, Wanda might have been driven to suicide by the deaths of her husband and brother.

  But if not Gotobed, who had killed those two?

  “Not married!” Gotobed said in a tone of wonder. To Alec’s relief, the Yorkshireman was reviving. He sat up straighter and there was a trace of his usual vigour in his voice when he went on, “She deceived me, but happen I’ve been deceiving meself, too. Wishful thinking is a grand persuader. I thowt I knew her through and through. She had her little faults, to be sure, but which of us doesn’t?”

  “All too true, sir. I’ll have more questions for you later, but I think you should have a bit of a rest now. Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to send Dr. Amboyne to see you?”

  “No, no. But I believe I should like to consult Miss Oliphant, if she will be so kind. I suspect I may need one of her magic potions to help me sleep tonight.”

  “I’ll ask her,” Alec promised, and headed back to the sick-bay.

  Daisy was still in the waiting-room, sitting with the nurse, Miss Oliphant, and Mrs. Denton around the desk, drinking soup from mugs and eating sandwiches.

  “Darling, have you eaten?” she cried, as Alec trudged in. “You must be starving! Come and join us. There’s plenty of sandwiches and half a jug of soup. You’ll have to share my mug.”

  Between bites and sups, Alec passed on Gotobed’s message to Miss Oliphant. Uncharacteristically flustered, she went at once, taking with her some herbs from her medicine chest and a packet of sandwiches quickly wrapped by the nurse for Gotobed.

  Daisy kept stuffing Alec with sandwiches until he swore he could not eat another crumb. “I’d like to talk to Mr. Denton,” he told the nurse. “Dr. Amboyne said he’s well enough.”

  “That he is, sir,” affirmed Mrs. Denton, “long as you don’t make him talk too long. He didn’t ought to get to coughing, Doctor says. But he were asleep when we come out. He needs his sleep, don’t he, Nurse?”

  “Always napping, and the best thing for him, but he doesn’t usually sleep very long. I’ll just take a peek and see if he’s awake, Mr. Fletcher. If he is, you can go right in, but you won’t mind if I go too; it’s my bounden duty to see you don’t tire the poor lamb.”

  If Nurse was going to be present at the interview, Daisy had no more intention of being left out than Mrs. Denton had of letting her husband be questioned without her at his side. The four of them gathered around Denton’s hospital bed. Wanda’s body had been removed. Daisy didn’t care to wonder where it was being stored for autopsy.

  Denton’s breathing was laboured, his weathered face sallow without the ruddiness of health, but his eyes were bright enough. Mrs. Denton took his calloused hand and said, “Well, Pa, here’s folks come to see you. The gentleman wants to ask you some questions. He’s a detective policeman from Scotland Yard.”

  “Mr. Denton, do you remember what happened? How you came to fall over the railing into the sea?”

  “Aye, I mind well!” wheezed the farmer. He continued with frequent pauses to catch his breath. “’Tis not the sort o’ thing a chap’d forget. There were I, leaning on the rail and a-smoking of me pipe, peaceable like. Moonlight ’twere, pretty as a picture. You should’ve bin there, Ma.”

  “I wish I were!” lamented Mrs. Denton.

  “I were just wond’ring if our Albert was done planting the winter wheat, when I feels someone a-grabbing of me ankles and he gives a great heave, and over I goes, clean as a whistle.”

  “Brenda was right,” Daisy mouthed at Alec.

&n
bsp; “And I lost me pipe and the cap Ma got at the church jumbly sale,” Denton added in an aggrieved voice.

  “’Twere his fav’rite pipe,” Mrs. Denton explained, “and a fancy cap wi’ ear flaps to keep out the cold wind, as was Squire’s father’s in the old days.”

  Daisy held her breath as Alec asked, with what she considered unnatural calmness, “Not a fore-and-aft cap? Did it have peaks both in front and at the back?”

  Mrs. Denton nodded. “That’s right, sir.”

  “Kep’ me neck warm.” Denton’s voice was failing.

  “That’s enough now,” said Nurse. “Time for your medicine and a nice nap, Mr. Denton. I can’t let you ask the poor lamb any more tonight, Mr. Fletcher, he’s had enough. It’d be as much as my job’s worth.”

  “One more question. Mrs. Denton can answer it. Would you please describe your husband’s overcoat, ma’am?”

  “His coat?” Mrs. Denton asked, surprised. “’Tis quite ordin’ ry, brown what they call tweed, with a cape to keep off the rain. That were Old Squire’s, too, from the bazaar. ’Twon’t never be the same again after that sea-water ducking,” she added sadly.

  “Thank you,” said Alec. “Please accept my best wishes for your swift recovery, Mr. Denton.” He headed for the door.

  Daisy followed, bursting with excitement. As soon as the sick-bay door closed behind them, she exclaimed, “Someone took him for Gotobed!”

  Alec smiled, but said, “Gotobed’s coat is grey.”

  “It was moonlight. Colours don’t show. Someone tried to kill Gotobed. I bet it was Pertwee, and he was going to try again, only that cross-wave threw him over.”

  “Try again in broad daylight, with people about?” Alec asked sceptically.

  “Darling, you don’t still think Gotobed’s the villain?”

  “Let’s say my mind is considerably more open than it was a quarter of an hour ago, but we still have Wanda’s death to account for. I must talk to the steward again.”

  In spite of that “we,” he refused to let Daisy go with him and forbade her to go and see Gotobed lest she unwarrantably raise his hopes.

  Disconsolate, she went along to Arbuckle’s suite. Arbuckle had gone to see Gotobed, but she found Phillip trying to teach a card game—Racing Demon—to Gloria, Brenda, Riddman, and a young Italian couple. After Daisy’s somewhat clearer explanation and a demonstration, they started playing. Several hilarious games kept Daisy from trying to work out what Denton’s revelations led to and what Alec hoped to find out from the steward.

  Arbuckle returned, looking puzzled. “Fletcher wants us all to meet in Gotobed’s suite tomorrow after breakfast,” he announced.

  “What for, Poppa?”

  “I’ll be darned if I rightly know, honey.”

  “Us too, sir?” Riddman asked. “Birdie and I, that is.”

  “Yes, both of you, but not our Eyetalian guests, of course. Do you know the low-down, Mrs. Fletcher?”

  “Not exactly,” Daisy temporized. “And if I did, I shouldn’t dare tell you. I’d better be getting along.”

  She found Alec in their cabin, preparing for bed. Lucia Croce had not returned.

  “Thank heaven,” Alec said.

  “I dare say she’ll stay with her husband.”

  “I hope so. If she turns up in the middle of the night, I suppose as a gentleman I’ll have to give up my berth to her and sleep on the floor. I’m much too tired.” He climbed into bed.

  “It’s been an endless day. Darling, what’s this about a meeting in Gotobed’s suite tomorrow morning?”

  “You’ll find out tomorrow morning. Come here.”

  “You’re much too tired,” Daisy teased.

  “Not for some things. Come here.”

  21

  “Arbuckle and Phillip and Gloria,” said Daisy, as she and Alec made their way towards Gotobed’s suite next morning,”but why Brenda and Riddman?”

  “Lady Brenda because she saw Denton’s attacker. Riddman because he knew Pertwee and Welford better than anyone else.”

  “Who else? Miss Oliphant?”

  “Yes, Gotobed insisted. And Captain Dane’s sending Harvey to represent him.”

  “Harvey and Riddman? Oh dear!”

  “Not my choice. Are they still rivals? I was under the impression that Lady Brenda had returned to her first love.”

  “Or opted for money.” Daisy sighed. “I shouldn’t think they’ll come to blows, but I’m sure the air will be thick with invisible daggers.”

  Everyone else was already there when they arrived. A couple of extra chairs had been brought in so there were enough to go around, set out in a semicircle with one facing them. Harvey was seated at one end, Brenda at the other with Riddman beside her. Brenda looked uncomfortable. The two men studiously ignored each other.

  Daisy took the only free seat in the circle. Alec chose to stand, leaning on the back of the chair facing the group.

  “Thank you all for coming,” he began. “The first thing I want to say is that we shall almost certainly never know for sure exactly what happened on this unhappy voyage. I have a theory which seems to me to tie all the loose ends together. Before you hear it, I must have an assurance from each of you that nothing you hear in here this morning will go any further, except, of course, Mr. Harvey’s confidential report to the Captain. Lady Brenda?”

  “I shan’t tell, I promise. I know you all think …”

  “Lady Brenda,” Alec interrupted, “if you had not held your tongue when asked, everyone on this ship would know what you saw the night Denton fell overboard. Mr. Riddman?”

  One by one, they all gave their word. Alec continued.

  “You have all been involved in one way or another. You may be able to point out weaknesses in my theory, or you may have ideas of your own. If so, I want to hear them. But before we go any further, Mr. Gotobed has something to say to you. Sir?”

  Gotobed stood up and turned to face them. To Daisy, he looked rather like a Christian facing the lions.

  “I’m telling you this,” he said heavily, “partly because it’ll help you understand Mr. Fletcher’s story, partly so you won’t think too badly of me when you see I’m not mourning Wanda as a husband ought. It seems I niver was her husband.”

  There was a surprised murmur, in which, Daisy noticed, Miss Oliphant did not join. Gotobed glanced at the witch, who gave him an encouraging smile. He continued with renewed confidence.

  “They say there’s no fool like an old fool. That’s me. I knew Fairchild was Wanda’s stage name, but I never enquired further, not even when that’s how she signed the marriage certificate. Her real maiden name was Pertwee. And when I married her, she was already the wife of Henry Welford.”

  A collective gasp this time, again not echoed by Miss Oliphant. Gotobed resumed his seat beside her, and she took his hand. Silently, Daisy cheered.

  “Now it’s your turn, Lady Brenda. Would you mind describing for those who haven’t heard exactly what you saw that night?”

  Clearly and briefly, Brenda described seeing Denton tipped overboard. “You believe me now?” she asked.

  “Mr. Denton has confirmed your report,” Alec told her. “He—or rather, his wife—has also described his clothes in more detail than you were able to make out in the dark. Not only was he smoking a pipe, he wore a fore-and-aft cap and a caped greatcoat.”

  “Jeez!” Arbuckle exclaimed. “In the dark, he’d be the spitting image of Gotobed!”

  “By Jove, yes!” said his son-in-law. “Hang it, old chap, d’you mean to say Mr. Gotobed was the real target?”

  “It seems probable,” Alec confirmed. “I’ve been unable to dig up any reason why anyone should attack Denton, an inoffensive farmer. But Mr. Gotobed had made a will in his presumed wife’s favour. Others would have profited by his death.”

  “Pertwee and Welford, I guess,” said Gloria, “and Wanda herself. Golly gee!”

  “I suspect either Pertwee or Welford attacked Denton in the mistaken belief that
he was Mr. Gotobed. Does anyone have a cogent argument against?”

  People looked at each other. Heads shook.

  “Good. The next bit is more complicated, more of a leap of faith. Pure speculation, in fact. I’m assuming that our precious pair had no intention of giving up the battle after their unfortunate mistake, which, remember, nearly resulted in the death of a stranger.”

  “Waal, now,” said Arbuckle thoughtfully, “they wouldn’t want to make the same mistake again, would they?”

  “Exactly, sir.”

  “So that’s why Pertwee approached Mr. Gotobed in broad daylight and spoke to him,” Daisy reflected. “But surely he didn’t plan to chuck him in then, darling, in front of everyone, including us?”

  “Hardly. No, his part was to identify the victim and keep him standing in one place. In deference to the ladies, I shan’t describe what Mr. Gotobed saw and reported. What none of you know except Daisy and Second Officer Harvey—and Mr. Gotobed himself—is that Pertwee apparently fell over the rail because he was shot.”

  “So that’s why you asked me about guns!” said Riddman. “I thought you’d got a mite mixed up and forgot Pertwee drowned.”

  “Drowning is probably what killed him, but he might have been saved if he hadn’t been shot first. As I see it, Welford was concealed with a firearm somewhere in the superstructure. There are plenty of good hiding places, and my sergeant discovered Welford’d been a marksman during the War.”

  “Alec, you didn’t tell me!” Daisy cried indignantly. “That’s not fair.”

  He grinned. “Sorry, love. I told you what seemed to me at the time the vital part of the wireless message. I forgot that minor point, which I’d skimmed over when reading it, and didn’t remember until I heard Denton’s evidence and my viewpoint switched a hundred and eighty degrees. To return to our story: We have Welford hidden on the boat-deck, Pertwee keeping Mr. Gotobed occupied.”

  “And then the cross-wave hit the ship,” said Gotobed. “Either Welford was just pulling the trigger, or his finger jerked as he tried to keep his balance. Any road, his aim would be upset. And in the meantime, Pertwee and I danced our little jig as we tried to keep our balance.”