by Conrad Allen
“I daresay you want me to speak to Mr. Spurrier,” she said.
“No, Genevieve, we’ll hold off for a while.”
“But that card might be the clue we need.”
“We can’t even be certain that it is a clue,” he said realistically. “Speculation is one thing — proof is quite another. It’s important that Spurrier doesn’t know that you’re a detective or he’ll clam up on you as well. I think you should creep up on him from another direction.”
“You want me to talk to Joshua Cleves instead, is that it?”
“Yes. He and Spurrier are obviously friends. They’ll be aware of each other’s movements. As you and Cleves are dining companions, you can speak to him without arousing suspicion.”
“What am I to find out, George?”
“Why he and Spurrier fell out with David Lowbury. That could be crucial. Also, of course, I’d like to know if Spurrier was in the dining saloon last night, and if so, did he leave at any point during the meal?” Genevieve let out a gasp of surprise. “What’s wrong?”
“I’ve just remembered something.”
“You saw him there?”
“No,” she said, “but I know someone who did slip away from the table at one point — Joshua Cleves.”
It was the second report that morning and it worried the purser. The Celtic had sailed over halfway across the Atlantic and the only crime that had occurred had been the theft of a book written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Within the space of the past twelve hours, Nelson Rutherford also had to contend with a possible murder and two burglaries. The woman sitting opposite him in his office was May Hoyland and she was quivering with concern.
“When did you first become aware of the theft?” he asked.
“Not until after breakfast, Mr. Rutherford.”
“Where was the necklace kept?”
“In a box. I know that I should have had it locked away in a safe,” she went on hurriedly, “but it’s very dear to me and I like to have it to hand. We had no trouble at all when we sailed to America. Nothing was taken from our cabin.”
“But the only thing that went astray this time was a diamond necklace?”
“That’s right. Sophie — my daughter, that is — was wearing her jewelry. I was foolish enough to take the necklace off and leave it unguarded in the cabin.”
“How did you discover that it had gone?”
“I lifted the box this morning and felt how light it was.”
“I see,” said the purser. “I suppose there’s no possibility that you could have put the necklace down somewhere else in the cabin?”
May smiled wryly. “I may be getting old, Mr. Rutherford, but I’m not senile yet. When I take it off, that necklace always goes straight into its box. It was a wedding present from my second husband. I cherish it. I’m extremely careful how I handle it.”
He jotted down the details on a notepad. He was tempted to point out that if Mrs. Hoyland valued the necklace that much, she should never have left it alone in her cabin, but that would only have been adding further pain. She freely accepted that she was to blame. His task was to console her.
“What are the chances of getting it back?” she said hopefully.
“Very strong, Mrs. Hoyland,” he replied. “We have some excellent detectives on board. They’re very experienced in this sort of thing.”
She was disturbed. “Are you saying that the White Star Line is plagued by thieves?”
“Far from it. What’s happened is the exception to the rule.”
“Yet you told me earlier that I was the second victim.”
“Let’s just concentrate on your necklace, shall we?” he said, trying to still her anxiety. “You returned to your cabin shortly after dinner. Is that correct?”
“Yes, Mr. Rutherford. I took off the necklace there and then.”
“Intending to undress for bed.”
“That’s right,” she said.
“Where was your daughter at the time?”
“Attending a séance. I knew that she might be late coming back, so I thought I’d read while I was waiting for her. I’d already finished one book, so I decided to pop along to the library to borrow another.”
“How long were you away?”
“No more than fifteen or twenty minutes.”
“That’s when the theft must have occurred because it was the only time the cabin was unoccupied.”
“We had breakfast served there instead of going to the dining saloon. I take a long time to wake up in the mornings,” she told him. “And I’m not ready to face the world until I’ve had breakfast. When I discovered that my necklace had gone, of course, I wished that I hadn’t touched a thing. I felt sick, Mr. Rutherford. I was shocked.”
“That’s a natural reaction. Most of us would feel the same.” His sympathy was tempered with quiet resolve. “I’m terribly sorry this has happened, Mrs. Hoyland, and I can assure you that we’ll get on the trail of the thief at once. The one thing I need from you, however, is a description of the stolen item.”
“Oh, I can do better than that.” She opened her purse to take something out. “I have a photograph. We had it taken for the purpose of insurance.”
“Very wise.” When she passed it to him, he looked at the sepia photograph and saw the impressive array of diamonds. “May I ask for how much the necklace is insured?”
“Fifteen hundred guineas,” she said with a nostalgic smile. “My second husband worshipped me.”
Genevieve did not have to search for him. As soon as she entered the lounge, Joshua Cleves got up from his seat and came across to her.
“Good morning,” he said. “I missed you at breakfast.”
“I had it in my cabin.”
“It would have been even more delightful to share it with you there.” He flashed a smile at her. “Will you at least join me for coffee?”
“That would be very nice, Mr. Cleves.”
“You simply must stop calling me that. It’s so formal.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, wanting to win his confidence. “From now on, Joshua it shall be.”
“Thank you, Genevieve.”
When they had sat down, he summoned a waiter with a flick of his fingers and ordered coffee. Then he appraised her with a mingled curiosity and doubt.
“Is something the matter?” she asked.
“I’m not sure,” he said. “I feel as if I’m looking at a magnificent portrait and wondering if there’s a tiny flaw in it.”
“Why should you wonder that?”
“Because of that meeting you went to last night.”
“Ah, I see. You found out.”
“Rupert told me. Apparently, his wife heard about it from their steward. I have to admit that I was rather shocked by the news. What on earth persuaded you to go to a séance, Genevieve?”
“I was invited and thought it might be fun.”
“Fun? You must know the whole thing was an elaborate hoax.”
“But it wasn’t, Joshua.”
“What did the lady do?” he teased. “Conjure up the devil? Or make a ring of fairies dance on a pinhead?”
“Mrs. Burbridge simply acted as a conduit for messages.”
“Messages from the dead, I presume?”
“Yes.”
“And who made contact with you — the spirit of Queen Victoria?”
“If you’re going to sneer,” she said tartly, “then we’d better not discuss the subject.”
“No, no, I’m not sneering,” he claimed. “I’m quite sincere. I want to know why someone as sensible and well educated as you could be drawn into such a dubious gathering.”
“You’re quite right. It was dubious. I went into the cabin with the greatest reservations. I expected to be tricked in some way. Yet I wasn’t, Joshua. I witnessed something I’d not have believed possible.”
“How much did the medium charge you?”
“Nothing at all.”
“What about the others?”
&nbs
p; “The only clients who pay her are those who are put in touch with someone from their past, and they decide for themselves what the fee is. I paid nothing, and neither did Sir Arthur and Lady Conan Doyle. Mrs. Trouncer was the only person who felt obliged to offer some money.”
“Why was that?”
“Because the messages came from her husband.”
“Did you honestly believe that?”
Genevieve chose her words with care. “I did so at the time.”
“But, on reflection, you realize you were all bamboozled.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“Then you’ve discovered that this Mrs. Trouncer and the medium are actually confederates who work together to exploit impressionable people. That’s why these so-called messages rang true.”
“Sophie Trouncer is traveling with her mother. She’d never met Mrs. Burbridge until this voyage. If they’re in partnership together,” said Genevieve crisply, “they didn’t do very well last night. The only money seen was the amount exchanged between them.”
“That was a clever ruse to draw the rest of you in. At the next séance, these fake messages will be for you and the others.”
“There’s no chance of that, Joshua.”
“Oh?”
“According to Mrs. Burbridge, there’ll be no more sittings.”
“What a pity!” he said. “I’d have been sorely tempted to come along myself and expose the medium as the fraud she is. But I’m relieved to hear that you won’t be duped for a second time.”
“Perhaps I was,” she conceded, wanting to move away from the subject, “but it was nevertheless a fascinating occasion.” She looked around. “But I expected you to be in here with Lord Bulstrode. He seems to have adopted you.”
“There’s a limit to how many games of chess even I can play.”
She looked him in the eye. “I thought you were playing one at this very moment, Joshua.”
“Can you blame me?” he said with an appreciative laugh.
“That depends on what the rules are. For instance, how many of us are actually involved in the game?”
“Just the two of us, Genevieve. Who needs anyone else?”
“Mr. Spurrier appears to think that I do.”
He chuckled. “What’s Frank been up to now?”
“You can answer that,” she said, watching him. “When I’m not talking to you, I keep finding him at my elbow. It’s almost as if you take it in turns and I have to say that it’s very annoying. Perhaps you’d be kind enough to tell him that.”
“Tell him yourself,” he advised. “Frank and I are only business acquaintances. If he’s bothering you, speak to him about it. My guess is that he’s jealous because I’ve had more attention from you.” Seeing the expression on her face, he corrected himself. “Or, to be more precise, it’s because of attention you’ve been receiving from me.”
“How well do you know him?”
“Moderately well.”
“So you don’t know much about his private life?”
“He keeps that very secret.”
“Does he have something to hide?”
“We all do, Genevieve — even you, I suspect.”
His gaze was searching but she met it. A tension was suddenly hanging in the air. She was grateful when the waiter arrived with a tray of coffee to dispel the uncomfortable sensation she experienced. He stayed long enough to serve the coffee, then backed away.
“Frank Spurrier is like a chameleon,” Cleves volunteered. “He can change color to suit any occasion.” He raised a hand. “I’m not decrying him in any way. It’s an art I wish that I could master.”
“He always seems so devious to me. And there’s something about him that’s quite chilling.”
“Yet he regards himself as essentially a ladies’ man.”
“There’s no real warmth there,” said Genevieve, working her way around to the question she wanted to ask. “Mr. Spurrier is cold and unemotional. He looks like the sort of man who never gets really angry or loses his temper.”
“Oh, he does get angry.”
“Not in public.”
“You’re quite wrong there.”
“Am I?”
“Yes,” he said. “I was in the lounge with Frank only yesterday when he took exception to a remark made by Mr. Lowbury. He was very angry — and so, I admit, was I.”
“Whatever were you talking about?”
There was a long pause. He tried to cover it with a bland smile but Genevieve had her answer. They had been discussing her.
With his back against the rail, Leonard Rush tried to roll a cigarette. The rain had stopped and the wind had eased, but the roll of the ship made the exercise tricky. George Dillman waited until the man had finally put the cigarette between his lips and lighted it.
“Mr. Rush?” he asked, coming forward.
“Yes,” said the other, “that’s me.”
“My name is George Dillman, and though I may not look it, I’m part of the crew. I understand that you sleep on deck.”
“Nothing wrong in that, is there?”
“A great deal, in these temperatures.”
“I bring blankets with me.”
It was encouraging news. Dillman felt that if the man were bent on suicide, he would hardly take such precautions to keep himself warm. Pulling on his cigarette, Rush looked as desperate and haunted as ever. He became suspicious.
“That old man put you on to me, didn’t he? Saul Pinnick.”
“I did speak to Mr. Pinnick, as it happens.”
“You’ve come to talk me out of it.”
“Out of what?”
“Are you the ship’s chaplain?”
“No, Mr. Rush,” said Dillman. “I’m not. And I haven’t come to talk you out of anything. I just wanted to ask you a few questions.”
“About what?”
“Sleeping on deck.”
“The only way I get privacy.”
“You pay a high price for it. For most of the night, it rained.”
“Why should you care?”
“Because I’m interested in what happens down here on the main deck. You’re not alone, I gather. Other passengers do the same thing.”
“We keep out of each other’s way.”
“And do you actually get to sleep?”
“Now and again,” said Rush, regarding him with displeasure. “At least, I’m not trapped in a cabin with three other men.”
“You should be used to that, surely. You were a miner.”
Rush was angry. “What else has Pinnick been telling you about me? I told him to mind his own business.”
“He cares about you, Mr. Rush,” said Dillman. “Much more than you care about yourself, by the look of it.”
“You tell him to stay away from me.”
“Kindness is in short supply. You should never spurn it.” Rush gave a reluctant nod of agreement. “Did you see anyone else on the main deck last night? I don’t mean fellow passengers who sleep out here. These would probably have been two well-dressed men.”
“It was dark, Mr. Dillman. And I only have one good eye.”
“There might have been the noise of a scuffle.”
“I didn’t hear it.”
“Would you tell me, if you had?”
“No,” said Rush flatly.
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t poke my nose in where it’s not wanted, that’s why. I’m not like Pinnick. I mind my own business.”
“That means you did see something.”
“Good-bye, Mr. Dillman,” said the other pointedly.
“What was it?”
“Leave me alone.”
“Just answer my question.”
“Leave me, I said. That’s not too much to ask, is it?”
“But this could be important.”
“Not to me.”
“I need your help, Mr. Rush.”
“Ask someone else. I’m busy.”
“You could be hol
ding back vital information.”
“That’s better than badgering the life out of someone, the way you’re doing.” He glared at Dillman. “I saw nothing, heard nothing and smelled nothing. Satisfied now?”
When she received the summons, Genevieve Masefield went straight to the purser’s office where she was told about the thefts that had occurred. Jewelry had been stolen from two different women. Unaware of the fact that she was Sophie Trouncer’s mother, the first person she called on was May Hoyland. After introducing herself, Genevieve was invited into the cabin. Sophie goggled at her.
“You’re a detective?” she said incredulously.
“Yes, Mrs. Trouncer.”
“Why didn’t you say so?”
“Because I work more effectively if I do so undercover,” said Genevieve. “I’m sorry if you feel that I deceived you, but it’s in the nature of my work.”
“Is that why you went to the séance last night?” asked Sophie, glowering at her. “Was it to spy on Thoda Burbridge in case you had to arrest her for fraud?”
“No, Mrs. Trouncer. I was there out of sheer curiosity.”
“What does it matter?” asked May Hoyland. “Miss Masefield is here to talk to me now. That’s all that worries me.”
“The purser has given me the details,” said Genevieve, turning to the older woman. “I just have a few additional questions.”
“Ask anything you want.”
“Was last night the first time you wore the diamond necklace?”
“No.” Sophie answered first. “Mother has worn it every night we’ve been on board.”
“The question was put to me,” said May reproachfully.
“I can’t see why it was asked in the first place.”
“It’s quite simple,” Genevieve explained. “If it had been on display already, the thief would have had time to take note of it and find out which cabin you occupied. Then he waited.”
May was uneasy. “The very thought makes me shiver,” she said nervously. “Do you think this man stalked me?”
“Let’s just say that he seized his opportunity when it came.”
“How did he get into the cabin?”
“He was a professional thief. He picked the lock.”