‘So, I’m the murderer,’ I said. ‘Mrs Miller’s dead. I tuck the pillow back under her head, pull off the sheet – and I have to hold it carefully, don’t I, to make sure the blood doesn’t go on my clothes? It was so high up around her neck that it and the pillow would have caught all the blood until now. I think I can do it – but I’m getting some on my hands.’
‘Which you’ll have to wash in the sink later,’ said George. I nodded at him.
‘All right,’ I went on. ‘So I’m carrying the sheet across the room, and now I reach up to the curtain rail, and – oh!’
I am taller now than I used to be, but I have come to terms with the fact that I will never be very tall. As I stood in front of the door, and tried to get the sheet over the rail, I realized that I could not reach high enough and still hold it away from my body. I did not want to raise the sheet over my head, for fear of getting invisible blood on myself.
‘What do I do?’ I asked.
‘Get the chair,’ said Amina. ‘No! It’ll drip!’
‘And there wasn’t any blood on Mrs Miller’s chair, was there?’ said Daisy, watching with interest from the bed. ‘I remember that from the crime scene.’
‘Reach higher!’ said Alexander.
‘I can’t!’ I said, frustrated. ‘I’ll get blood everywhere and I still won’t be able to get the sheet over the rail.’
‘Here, let me,’ said Amina. She stepped forward. With her extra few inches, she could tip the top of the sheet neatly over the railing.
‘Mr DeWitt is the same height as Amina,’ said George thoughtfully. ‘And Miss Doggett’s taller. So’s Daniel. But Miss Bartleby—’
‘She’s almost the same size as me!’ I exclaimed. ‘She could only do it with a chair, and the murderer couldn’t have used the one in Mrs Miller’s room, like Daisy said. They’re too heavy to move about easily too, so they couldn’t have got one from another cabin or the deck without May hearing. So—’
‘So I think,’ said Daisy, leaping out of bed, ‘we can rule Miss Bartleby out! Come along, Detectives, we must go and prepare the saloon, and ready ourselves for the next part of our investigation!’
6
I stepped outside our cabin to see that we were still sailing past high yellow cliffs and a line of thick green trees. The river here was set about with low islands, with lush grass on them. I saw goats on one, and then something I thought was a dark branch, until it moved its heavy crocodile tail.
On the east bank I saw people in white clothing walking at the edge of the water, a plough being pulled by an ox, the tops of houses behind the trees. It was all so peaceful and everyday – and a world away from our reality. We were on a ship where a murder had happened – as far away from the order of life on the banks of the Nile as we were from the moon.
I felt a hand on my arm – Alexander.
‘Hey,’ he said quietly. ‘Are you all right? Are you ready?’
I felt the warmth of his hand through the fabric of my blouse, as though his fingers were on fire. I met his eyes for a moment, and said, ‘Yes, I am.’
‘I think you’re incredible,’ said Alexander – and I could not look at him any more. I ducked my head, and turned back to the door of our cabin – to catch sight of something I had not expected. I did not mean to see it, I really didn’t, though that has not stopped me feeling guilty about it.
Amina and Daisy were standing close together, their heads tilted towards each other, murmuring to one another. Then I saw Amina shake back her long dark hair, lean upwards and touch her lips to Daisy’s. The look on Daisy’s face – bewilderment and utter delight – made me turn away at last, cheeks burning. This was something I ought not to have intruded on.
I felt awkward, and – although I do not like to write it – itching with something close to jealousy. Was that how easy it was? Why could I not simply step forward and kiss Alexander?
‘What’s wrong?’ he asked from behind me.
‘Nothing,’ I said quickly. ‘I thought I forgot my casebook, but it’s in my pocket. Er – would you take notes in the interrogations? I might be distracted.’
‘Of course I will,’ said Alexander. ‘Hey, will you give me some of your paper? Mine’s in my cabin.’
As we walked towards the saloon, I tore out a few pieces of paper from my casebook and then handed them to Alexander. I blushed as I did it – it felt so personal, like giving him a part of myself – but Alexander simply smiled sunnily at me. It was the sort of romantic gesture that was only romantic in my head, I realized, and I was cross with myself all over again.
‘Hello,’ said Daisy, catching up with us. Amina was just behind her and, if I did not know every inch of Daisy’s face as closely as I knew my own, I would not have noticed anything odd about her. But I could see how she was blazing with excitement, struggling to keep herself in check. ‘Are you ready, Hazel? We can’t get this wrong, you know. We have to be perfect.’
‘I know we do,’ I said, still prickly because of everything that was going on inside me. ‘Daisy, you don’t have to lecture me!’
‘Touchy!’ said Daisy. ‘What’s up with you, Hazel? Never mind. Boys, you’ll be our assistants. George, go and get our first subject as soon as we’re ready, and bring lunch. Alexander, you’re recording the interviews, I see.’
‘Stop it, Daisy! You’re not the queen!’ I said. ‘We’re all working together.’
‘Yes, of course we are, Hazel,’ said Daisy, and then she winked at me. I sighed. I did not feel ready at all. I felt like nothing more than the little girl who had discovered Miss Bell’s body on the Gym floor, all those years ago. But then—
— I still can’t explain what it was: the heat, my confusion, the ancient Egyptian stories swirling in my head about parts of souls flying out of bodies in different directions, but I got a strange, vertiginous, flashing moment where I saw myself from the outside, a girl who was standing up straight, her shoulders set, determination on her face. That girl looked important, like a person who mattered, like a detective. And I realized that I knew what to do. I could be a real detective. I could solve this case. Daisy and I could do anything, so long as we were together.
7
‘Well!’ said Daisy to Narcissus DeWitt, once we were settled in the saloon half an hour later. Amina and I had moved the chairs about, and draped two of the nicest with scarves so they looked rather like thrones. Daisy and I sat in them, Daisy in a fresh white dress and me in my nicest floral print, legs crossed at the ankles and hands severely folded, trying to look like grown-up ladies and policewomen all at once. Amina stood behind us. Daisy turned to look at her, and I had to nudge her to keep watching Mr DeWitt. The lamps had all been draped with more scarves to make the room soft and mysterious, and Amina had sprayed some of her perfume in the air. The saloon smelled light and floral.
Mr DeWitt sat on the smallest cane chair we could find, low down and uncomfortable. His position looked as though it hurt him – his face was more creased up than ever. He held his cane across his knees and clung on to it with both hands.
Alexander was standing beside the doorway, papers from my casebook under his arm. He looked nearly threatening – his head almost touched the lintel and, despite what Daisy says about him, he has lost quite a lot of his stretched-out wristiness – until he saw me looking at him and ducked his head, running his free hand through his hair awkwardly and almost stabbing himself with his propelling pencil. Daisy reached over to pinch my leg, and I tried not to jump.
‘Mr DeWitt,’ said Daisy. ‘Welcome.’
‘Thank you for coming,’ I put in. Daisy looked at me sideways in muffled annoyance. She always hates pleasantries – despite everything, I have never been able to explain to her why they are necessary during a case.
‘Yes, indeed,’ Daisy went on. ‘As you know, Mr DeWitt, there has been a terrible crime. We do not believe the truth has come out yet, but these interviews will help change that. Are you happy to speak to us about what occurred last night?�
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‘Of course, Miss Wells,’ said Mr DeWitt. He tried to smile conspiratorially at her, but Daisy froze him out with her blue eyes, and Mr DeWitt faltered.
‘Tell us your movements last night,’ I said, summoning up everything I could remember from Aunt Lucy’s lessons. ‘It’s important you don’t miss anything out. Every detail may be vital.’
‘Ah, yes, right away. I would just like to say that I’ve always supported women. I campaigned for votes for women, of course. I think it’s wonderful that you girls have decided to become policemen.’
‘Policewomen,’ said Daisy severely. ‘Yes, yes, aren’t we brilliant? Last night, if you please.’
‘Certainly, certainly,’ said Mr DeWitt, shifting in his seat. ‘It’s quite simple really—’
‘Then tell us.’
Mr DeWitt frowned. ‘I was here, in the saloon, with Theodora and the others, for the planned ritual.’
‘What was the ritual?’ I asked. Of course, we had seen it, but we did not need to let Mr DeWitt know that.
‘Not for you to hear about,’ said Mr DeWitt. ‘It’s a deep mystery. All you need to know is that it took the form of a test. I passed it, as did Rhiannon, and Ida and Heppy failed. I remember that Heppy was extremely upset and out of sorts, even more so than usual, and she talked back to Theodora. I left the saloon when it was over – it must have been about eleven p.m. I went back to my cabin, read for a while and fell asleep. I saw no one, I heard nothing, and the first I was aware of the crime was this morning when I was woken by Heppy’s screams. I don’t believe there’s anything more to this than a tragic accident – Heppy was still angry at Theodora, and she took out her rage at her in her sleep.’
‘But she was locked in!’ I exclaimed.
‘We all know that Miss Bartleby is unreliable,’ said Mr DeWitt with a shrug. ‘She forgets things. And as for the evidence of Mr Young – well, he must have been confused, or perhaps he has been briefed by someone.’
‘By which you mean us, I suppose,’ said Daisy. ‘We’re not liars, Mr DeWitt. Unlike you.’
Narcissus DeWitt flinched. His face looked pinched up and as ancient as a tortoise.
‘Me? A liar?’ he cried.
‘Indeed,’ snapped Daisy. ‘You’re lying to us. You say you went into your room just after eleven, and you didn’t come out again until you heard Heppy scream. Unfortunately for you, I remember the scene quite distinctly. You came out of your cabin after Miss Wong and I had already arrived. You never went into Theodora’s room. Is that right?’
I caught the thread of her thought, then, and met her eye.
‘That’s absolutely right,’ said Mr DeWitt.
‘But it can’t be,’ I said. ‘If you never went near the body, as you say, then there shouldn’t be any blood on a pair of your pyjama trousers. And there is, isn’t there? How do you explain that?’
8
‘How – how do you know that?’ gasped Mr DeWitt. ‘You – how dare you go into my cabin!’
‘We have our ways,’ said Daisy. ‘But you don’t deny that there are bloodstained pyjama bottoms in your cabin, do you?’
‘I – I—’ Mr DeWitt stuttered into silence. ‘This is monstrous! You can’t just accuse me—’
‘I don’t see why we shouldn’t,’ said Daisy coolly. ‘We caught you in a lie, didn’t we? You haven’t yet given us an explanation for the bloodstains. And there are other suspicious items in your room too. Why do you need seven bottles of Easton’s Syrup for a week-long cruise? What were you planning to do with them all?’
Mr DeWitt began to wheeze. He doubled over in his chair, gasping, and fell to his knees. Spit trembled on his lips and his eyes streamed. I jumped out of my chair and ran to him. Alexander left his position at the door and knelt down beside us, his arm on Mr DeWitt’s back. Amina’s hands were over her mouth.
‘Mr DeWitt!’ I cried. ‘Mr DeWitt, are you all right?’
‘He’s just shamming,’ said Daisy.
‘He isn’t!’ I said indignantly. ‘Daisy, don’t just sit there!’
Daisy got up and came to stand over us. ‘Mr DeWitt,’ she said clearly, ‘are you dying?’
Mr DeWitt wheezed.
‘He’s quite clearly not dying,’ said Daisy to the room. ‘Mr DeWitt, do calm down, otherwise we shall never get to the bottom of this. Explain yourself!’
‘Alexander, bring him some water!’ I said. ‘Amina, help me get him back up into his chair.’
We hauled Mr DeWitt, still gasping, back up onto his chair, and Alexander put a cup of water to his lips. He sipped, coughed and wiped his eyes.
‘There,’ said Daisy. ‘What did I tell you? Come along, Mr DeWitt, explain! What did you do?’
There was a pause.
‘I didn’t kill her!’ cried Mr DeWitt at last. ‘You have to believe me – I didn’t.’ His eyes were streaming again, but I did not think it was just from his coughing. ‘There’s been a terrible mistake – it’s all just a coincidence – you have to believe me—’
‘Good grief, what happened? Come on!’
‘Look, I – I did go to bed last night, but then I woke up again. I looked at my wristwatch, and it was just after two. And I – er – I wanted to look in on Theodora. See how she was sleeping. So I got up and went out on deck.’
The words were pouring out of Mr DeWitt now in a torrent. Alexander was scribbling notes furiously. I glanced at Daisy and saw her intense expression, the wrinkle appearing at the top of her nose.
‘It was a clear, cold night. The moon was high above the deck. And I saw Heppy coming out of Theodora’s room.’
‘Don’t lie to me!’ said Daisy fiercely. ‘Are you sure?’
Mr DeWitt shifted again in his seat. ‘I saw her back and the curls of her hair in the moonlight,’ he said. ‘I thought she was just having one of her episodes. I – er – didn’t want to wake her. She gets upset when she’s woken. So I waited until she’d gone back into her cabin, and then I went in to Theodora. Her door was open, and the curtains on the door too. I tripped over something on the floor, and almost fell over it – and then I realized my feet were wet. I looked and I could see there was something dark on them. And then I bent over Theodora, and she was dead. Her eyes were open, and there was blood all over her nightgown – her sheet was bundled up on the floor. That was what I’d fallen over. I panicked. I went running into her bathroom and tried to wash myself clean – I don’t know if I got it all – and then I ran out of there back to my cabin. I changed into fresh pyjama bottoms, scrubbed off the bloody ones and bundled them under my bed. I hoped no one would notice. I – er – they’re my favourite pair, so I didn’t want to throw them away. And that’s how I know that Miss Bartleby and Mr Young are lying. Heppy could not have been locked in her room. She did sleepwalk, and she murdered Theodora. I didn’t kill her, I swear it. She was already dead when I got there!’
9
There was a pause. My mind was rushing.
‘Very well,’ said Daisy at last. ‘Do you have anything else to say?’
‘No,’ said Mr DeWitt. ‘That’s everything.’
‘Wait!’ I said. ‘Mr DeWitt, you still haven’t told us one important thing.’
I saw Daisy glance at me, and nodded reassuringly. Something in May’s story had come back into my head.
‘When did you throw the bottle into the Nile?’ I asked. ‘Before or after you went into Theodora’s room?’
‘I – I—’ Mr DeWitt’s jaw worked. ‘Oh, curse it! Afterwards. I should have thrown in the handkerchief too, but I forgot it, and then I was afraid it would float. But there was nothing in that bottle, nothing at all, and I’ll stick to that.’
‘Of course there wasn’t,’ said Daisy, eyebrow raised. ‘Go on, then, you may leave. Alexander, show him out.’
‘Thank you,’ I added, as Mr DeWitt struggled to his feet with almost indecent speed, pushing himself up with his cane so quickly he nearly toppled over.
‘And fetch me Miss Bartleby,’
said Daisy. ‘At once, if you please.’
‘Was he lying?’ I asked into the silence, as soon as Mr DeWitt had been led out of the room.
‘Most certainly,’ said Daisy. ‘Didn’t you think? Simply deciding to go into Theodora’s room at two in the morning, while she was asleep! That’s nonsense. Either they were having an affair, or your theory about the strychnine is correct.’
‘An affair!’ I gasped. ‘But they’re both so old!’
‘Yes, well, grown-ups are dreadfully disgusting. We know that by now, Hazel. I don’t believe in the affair theory at all, not when we have those bottles as evidence, and the stained hanky you found, but I wanted to mention it. So Mr DeWitt was on his way to do something awful – probably intending to plant the bottle of doctored tonic that would poison Theodora – when he stumbled across a frame-up in progress. This helps us narrow down the timings, doesn’t it? We now know that the murderer had committed the crime and unlocked Heppy’s door before two a.m. That was the time she sleepwalked the night before, wasn’t it? That’s her pattern. The murderer must have known to use that! So the crime was done between twelve, when Mr Young confirmed that Heppy was locked in, and two.’
‘But that’s if Mr DeWitt’s innocent, isn’t it?’ asked Amina, behind us. ‘What if he’s guilty? He might have murdered Theodora, unlocked Heppy’s door and let her walk into the crime scene. If he killed her, it explains the blood on his pyjamas.’
‘I’m not sure,’ I said slowly. ‘I saw those stains – they were just around the hems of the pyjama bottoms. That fits with Mr DeWitt’s story – that he tripped over the sheet on the floor. If it was already down there when he got in, that means Heppy must have gone into the cabin before him.’
‘Oh,’ said Daisy. ‘Oh bother! I do believe you’re right.’
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