Murder on the Celtic

by Conrad Allen

  After a fruitless search he finished up in the stern of the ship. He could hear the engines pounding away and see the bubbling foam that the huge propellers were creating. Beyond, in the darkness, was complete oblivion. Somewhere in that vast expanse of water, Pinnick decided, was Leonard Rush. He offered up a silent prayer for the safety of the man’s soul. Blaming himself for not having been able to save Rush, he turned on his heel to walk back to the lounge.

  Someone stepped out of the shadows to block his way.

  “I thought it was you,” he said.

  Pinnick was delighted. “You’re still here!” he cried.

  “Yes,” said Leonard Rush. “For the time being.”

  Joshua Cleves was relaxing with a cigar when his friend came into the smoking room. He beckoned Frank Spurrier across to him. Taking a seat beside him, Spurrier pulled out his cigarette case.

  “You’re slipping, Josh,” he teased. “Miss Masefield enjoyed your company so much over dinner that she left early.”

  “She had a prior engagement.”

  “I think she was just anxious to get away from you.”

  “Genevieve went off to a meeting of some sort.”

  “Any excuse to get free of you.”

  Cleves chortled. “I can hear the envy in your voice, Frank,” he said smugly. “We’ve been on the ship for days and you’ve got no nearer to Genevieve. She’s all mine.”

  “The voyage is not over yet.” After putting his case away, Spurrier lit his cigarette and inhaled. He blew out the smoke. “You’re overlooking the one great advantage I have.”

  “What advantage?”

  “I’m a bachelor with no blemishes on my private life.”

  “Then I’m sorry for you, Frank. Your life must have been unbearably dull. Mine, however, has been continually exciting.”

  “Would you describe having two wrecked marriages as a form of excitement? You’re like a driver who’s been in two bad car accidents, Josh. No woman would trust you at the wheel.”

  “Actually,” said Cleves with a triumphant grin, “I have a chauffeur, as you well know. I can afford to let someone else do the driving. If I take Genevieve to the Ritz, I’ll pick her up in a taxi.”

  “She’ll have discarded you long before then.”

  “It may be the other way round, Frank.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “When I’ve won my bet, I may have no further use for her. But never let it be said that I’m not generous,” Cleves went on. “Because you’ve signally failed to make an impression on Genevieve, I decided to give you a helping hand.”

  “I need no assistance from you, Josh.”

  “Then you’ll have to turn the invitation down.”

  “What invitation?”

  “Drinks before dinner tomorrow in Rupert and Agnes’s stateroom. I asked if I might bring a friend, so you are included in the party — along with Genevieve Masefield, of course.”

  Spurrier was pleased at the unexpected opportunity he had just been given but annoyed that it had come from his rival. Conscious that Cleves was taunting him, he nevertheless saw how perverse it would be to turn down the invitation. He was about to accept graciously when someone bore down on him. George Dillman was quietly purposeful.

  “Mr. Spurrier?”

  “Yes,” replied the other.

  “My name is George Dillman. Pardon this intrusion, but I wondered if I might have a word in private with you?”

  “On what subject?”

  “I’d rather discuss that when we’re alone.”

  “If it can’t be aired in public,” said Spurrier, “then we’ll not discuss it at all. Who the devil are you, Mr. Dillman?”

  “I work for the White Star Line as a ship’s detective.”

  “He’s come to arrest you,” said Cleves with a laugh. “What have you been up to, Frank?”

  Spurrier was indignant. “Nothing at all.”

  “I’m sure that’s true,” said Dillman calmly. “I just wondered if I might ask you a few questions, sir.”

  “Such as?”

  “Why didn’t you sit in your usual place at dinner?”

  “What’s that got to do with you?”

  “There must have been a reason, Mr. Spurrier.”

  “There is — I sit where I choose.”

  “And you chose not to sit opposite Mr. and Mrs. Lowbury. Why?”

  “What right have you to ask that?” said Spurrier with barely contained anger. “Is it a crime to change seats in the dining saloon?”

  “No, sir. Of course not.”

  “Put the handcuffs on him, Mr. Dillman,” urged Cleves, enjoying the situation hugely. “Make him pay for his villainy at last.”

  “I’m sure that he’s not guilty of any,” said Dillman, trying to appease Spurrier with a smile. “It’s just that it would help me if I had his assurance that he did dine in the saloon this evening.”

  “Why are you checking up on me?” demanded Spurrier.

  “It’s a routine inquiry, sir.”

  “Are you going to put the same question to Josh and to everyone else in the room? Or am I being singled out for some reason?”

  “Mr. and Mrs. Lowbury expected you to join them.”

  “There’s you answer, Frank,” said Cleves, relishing his friend’s embarrassment. “David Lowbury is going to sue you for failing to sit opposite him. He’s taken out a writ against you.”

  “He’s in no position to do that,” said Dillman seriously. “A search party is at present looking for him. He’s disappeared. David Lowbury hasn’t been seen for almost two hours.”

  Spurrier was outraged. “This is monstrous,” he said. “Are you accusing me of having something to do with his disappearance?”

  “Not at all, sir.”

  “Then why did you bother me in the first place?”

  “Come on,” said Cleves, baiting his friend. “Own up. Tell us where you’ve hidden him.”

  Dillman rounded on him. “This may amuse you, sir, but it’s caused the greatest concern to his wife. I’m sorry that you find her torment so diverting.”

  Cleves was unrepentant. “The lady is worrying unnecessarily, Mr. Dillman,” he said with confidence. “Her husband’s disappearance is probably the result of a marital tiff. I should know. I’m an authority on the subject.”

  “We’ve considered that possibility and rejected it, so I’d be grateful if you stopped your inane interruptions.”

  “I endorse that, Josh,” said Spurrier. “Please shut up. As for you, Mr. Dillman,” he added, “I simply cannot see why you involve me in your inquiry.”

  “It was because Mrs. Lowbury found your behavior odd, sir.”

  “Odd or suspicious?”

  “Since you had, apparently, developed a friendship with her and her husband, she wondered why you had deserted them this evening.”

  “Then I’ll be happy to tell you. After what David Lowbury said to me earlier — and to Josh, as it happens — I’d no wish to endure his company for another meal. The man is boorish,” said Spurrier. “I like his wife, but I’ve no time at all for Lowbury himself.”

  “The same goes for me,” said Cleves.

  “Is it odd to prefer the society of agreeable people?”

  “No, Mr. Spurrier,” said Dillman. “But, in fairness to the lady, it must be remembered that when she passed that remark about you she was unaware that her husband had antagonized you.”

  “We have no quarrel with Mrs. Lowbury,” said Cleves.

  “None at all,” insisted Spurrier. “She’s an attractive young woman who deserves better than David Lowbury. He deceived me at first. I freely admit that. Then he showed us another aspect of his character and I lost all respect for him.”

  “Frank answers for both of us on that.”

  “I resent the fact that you’ve spoken to me like this, Mr. Dillman, and I hope that you’ll keep your distance in future. With regard to David Lowbury, I have only this to say.” Spurrier’s eyes glowed with hatre
d. “If he’s disappeared — good riddance to him!”

  Genevieve Masefield had no time to reflect on the séance and its dramatic effect on one of her companions. She waited until Sophie Trouncer had recovered and was relieved to see that she had sustained no real injury when she fell. After thanking Thoda Burbridge for inviting her, she excused herself. When she got back to her cabin she found a note from Dillman informing her of Lowbury’s disappearance and asking her to go, as a matter of urgency, to offer succor to the man’s wife. Genevieve obeyed at once and hurried off along the corridor.

  The moment she knocked on the relevant cabin door, it was opened. Jane Lowbury had a look of mingled hope and fear in her eyes. When she saw a woman standing there, she was puzzled.

  “Hello, Mrs. Lowbury,” said Genevieve softly. “My name is Genevieve Masefield and I work as a detective on board the Celtic. My colleague, George Dillman, asked me to come and see you.”

  “Is there any news?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Are you sure?” said Jane, anxiety corrugating her features. “I’d rather know the truth, Miss Masefield.”

  “You will, I assure you. As soon as there’s any definite news it will be brought directly to you.” She offered a consoling smile. “May I come in, please?”

  “Yes, yes, of course.”

  Jane stood back to admit her, then closed the door behind her. After a glance around the cabin Genevieve suggested that they sit down, but the other woman was far too restless. She kept pacing up and down. It was clear from the moist rings under her eyes that she had been crying. Genevieve’s guilt stirred. While she had been involved in the séance, a passenger had been in great distress. Genevieve should have been there to help her. She tried to make up for lost time.

  “I understand that your husband left the table in the middle of dinner,” she began.

  “Yes,” replied Jane, “and I haven’t seen him since.”

  “Has he ever done this kind of thing before?”

  “Never. David has always been so dependable. That’s why I think that something frightful must have happened to him. He should have been back with my pills within minutes.”

  Dillman’s note had not mentioned the reason that brought David Lowbury back to the cabin. Genevieve was interested to hear what it was and surprised that someone as young and self-evidently healthy as Jane required medication of any kind.

  “Why did you need the pills?” she asked.

  “I have palpitations sometimes. Nothing serious.”

  “But the doctor nevertheless prescribed the pills.”

  “Only as a safeguard, Miss Masefield.” She put a hand to her head. “Oh, if only I’d remembered to take them with me, none of this would have happened.”

  “You don’t know that, Mrs. Lowbury.”

  “I do — it’s all my fault.”

  “That’s simply not true,” said Genevieve, guiding her to a chair. “Please sit down. I need to ask you some questions.”

  “Mr. Dillman did that.”

  “I just want to double-check a few things.” Jane agreed to sit down and Genevieve sat close to her. “What sort of man is your husband, Mrs. Lowbury?”

  “The very best sort. He’s honest, loving and hardworking.”

  “Not given to playing tricks on you, then?”

  “It would never cross his mind,” said Jane. “He hates that kind of thing as much as I do. Besides, David would never deliberately inflict suffering on me. That would be cruel and he’s the kindest man alive. We’re on our honeymoon, Miss Masefield. He’s been wonderful to me from the very start.”

  “Have you made many friends since you’ve been aboard?”

  “Quite a number — though we prefer our own company most of the time. David likes to talk business, but I’ve never been terribly interested in that, so I just let him get on with it.”

  “So he may have made the acquaintance of one or two people that you don’t know about?”

  “Oh, he did. There’s no question about that.”

  “Did he talk about them?”

  “Of course. He tells me anything. David likes to have a cigarette after meals and I know he met various people in the smoking room.”

  “Did he mention any business deals in the offing?”

  “No, Miss Masefield. We’re on vacation.”

  “Some men find it hard to leave their work behind them.”

  “David is not like that. He gave me his word. This voyage was purely and simply about us. We’re thinking of buying a house in England one day, you see.”

  “Were you going there to look at properties?”

  “That was part of the reason.”

  “What was the other part?”

  “David was going to take me to Paris.” Jane smiled wistfully. “It’s somewhere I’ve always wanted to go.” Her face crumpled. “And now it will never happen.”

  “Don’t even think that, Mrs. Lowbury.”

  “I can’t go without my husband. There’d be no point.”

  “You’re assuming the worst when there’s no reason to do so,” said Genevieve. “Try to be patient. They’re searching for him at this very moment.”

  “Then why haven’t they found him?”

  “I don’t know. I wish I did.”

  “Has this sort of thing ever happened before?”

  “Very rarely.”

  “But this is not the first time?”

  “No, Mrs. Lowbury.”

  “And on the previous occasions, was the missing person always found?” Genevieve was hesitant. “Well?”

  “Not always.”

  Jane was aghast. “You mean that someone went overboard?”

  “It was not a comparable situation,” said Genevieve quickly. “Don’t worry about what occurred in other cases. They’re immaterial. All that need concern you is what happened to your husband.”

  “And what did happen? What could happen?”

  “All sorts of things, Mrs. Lowbury.”

  “Such as?”

  “I don’t think we need go into that.”

  “He’s been attacked, hasn’t he?” said Jane, grabbing Genevieve’s arm. “David was wearing a watch and carrying a lot of money in his billfold. He’s been attacked and robbed.”

  “That’s highly unlikely.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we do not have thieves roaming the corridors of the ship, Mrs. Lowbury. When it comes to crime, the White Star Line has a good safety record. No unauthorized person is allowed in the first-class areas,” said Genevieve. “And there’s another important point.”

  “What’s that?”

  “How could anyone know that your husband would return here during the meal? Nobody was waiting to assault him. You can stop torturing yourself with that thought.”

  “I just can’t get it out of my mind.”

  “I know it’s difficult, but you mustn’t let your imagination get the better of you. A thorough search is being made of the whole ship.”

  “Why is it taking so long?”

  “Because they want to look in every conceivable corner,” said Genevieve, trying to sound optimistic. “It’s only a question of time before they find your husband.”

  Wilfred Carr was among the first to volunteer to join the search party. Having helped to comb the first-class areas, he joined the others in second class to continue the hunt there. When they failed to find any trace of David Lowbury, the steward insisted on adding another pair of eyes to the team in steerage. It was the most unpromising place because a man in white tie and tails would be so conspicuous there. Notwithstanding that, they conducted a painstaking search of the public rooms and the corridors, asking everybody they met if they had seen a man who answered to the description of David Lowbury.

  It was all to no avail. Carr did not give up easily. Carrying a torch and accompanied by another steward, he began to search the main deck. The other man was skeptical.

  “They’ve already been here, Wilf,” he said.
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  “It won’t hurt to take a second look,” said Carr, shining his torch in dark corners as they walked along. “They were only looking for a human being. I’m after something else.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Evidence.”

  Carr made his way slowly along the deck. He had begun life as a steward in steerage and was deeply grateful that he now breathed the more rarefied air of first class. But he had not forgotten that some passengers found sleeping accommodation on the main deck. There were all sorts of corners where they tucked themselves away. Carr and his companion searched every one, unwittingly waking people up in some cases and earning a few rebukes in the ripest of language. They pressed on until they came to a bulkhead.

  “He ain’t here, Wilf. We might as well give in.”

  “I never give in,” said Carr defiantly. “Never. I got this feeling we’ll find something.”

  “Not in the dark. Let’s wait until dawn.”

  “Think of his wife, man. She must be in a dreadful state. Do you want to go and tell her to wait until dawn?”

  The other man hung his head. “Maybe not.”

  “Then let’s scour every inch of the deck.”

  Slowly and methodically, they moved on. Carr was indefatigable. He not only peered carefully at the deck itself, he even lifted the tarpaulins to look inside the lifeboats.

  “He’s not going to be in there, Wilf,” said his friend.

  “You never know.”

  “What’s he doing — playing hide-and-seek?”

  “I’ll ask him when I find him.”

  “Not down here. He’s a toff. He don’t belong in steerage.”

  Carr ignored him. Walking along to the next lifeboat, he raised the tarpaulin and stood on tiptoe to look underneath. His torch illumined something rolled up under one of the seats. He reached in to retrieve it then shook it out so that he could see what he was holding.