Death Sets Sail

by Robin Stevens

  ‘As you are aware, we are working to uncover the truth about Theodora Miller’s murder,’ said Daisy. ‘What do you know about it?’

  ‘I know that some people are better off dead,’ said Miss Doggett. ‘I know that Heppy killed Theodora in her sleep. I don’t know why you insist on complicating matters.’

  ‘But we’ve proved she didn’t!’ I said. ‘She can’t have!’

  ‘My colleague is quite correct,’ said Daisy, laying a calming hand on my arm. ‘Hephzibah Miller is quite innocent, and we shall say so to the Parquet. The question becomes, then, who could have done it? We have it on good authority that no one on the starboard side could have committed the crime.’

  ‘So you rule yourselves out, then!’ cried Miss Doggett. ‘Most convenient.’

  ‘We do not commit murders, we solve them,’ said Daisy. ‘I do wish I did not have to keep on explaining this to people. I do not intend to let you know who gave us this information, only to tell you to trust that it is good.’

  Daisy, I thought, was sounding more and more like Inspector Priestley in her interrogations.

  ‘Now, when did you go to Theodora’s cabin last night?’

  ‘I did not go to Theodora’s cabin. After the ritual was over, I went back to my own cabin and went to bed.’

  ‘Don’t lie to me, please. I know you did.’

  ‘I told you—’

  Daisy pressed her fingers down on my arm, and I knew what she was getting at. ‘We know you did,’ I repeated, ‘because of what we found in your cabin.’

  ‘You – when did you go in there? You had no right! I shall complain to Mr Mansour!’

  ‘Your cabin was searched less than an hour after Theodora had been found dead by Heppy,’ continued Daisy. ‘You had not yet been back in – we saw you out on deck at the time, still in your night things – but when we went in we found several dolls that were clearly meant to represent the members of the Breath of Life. And the doll that looked like Theodora—’

  ‘— had three pins in it!’ I finished off triumphantly. ‘You must have seen the body at some point in the night, otherwise you wouldn’t have been able to re-create the way it looked so accurately. So we know you’re lying.’

  Miss Doggett flinched and clamped her hands down round her knees firmly. It might have been for emphasis, and it might have been to stop them shaking. ‘I – I – that is purely a coincidence. I was praying. When I pray, my ba leaves my body and flies like a bird out around me. Last night it went down the saloon deck to Theodora’s cabin, and it saw her lying there, the sheet tucked up around her neck, with three great wounds in her chest and neck. I was not sure, then, whether this was truth or prophecy, and I am still unsure, but I – recorded it. I drove pins from my sewing kit into Theodora’s doll. And then this morning I woke up and saw – what we all saw. I believe magic was at work last night.’

  ‘What if we don’t believe in magic?’ asked Daisy fiercely. ‘What if we take this as an admission of guilt?’

  ‘Take it however you like,’ snapped Miss Doggett. ‘I don’t have to speak to you, you know.’

  ‘Of course you don’t,’ said Daisy. ‘You don’t have to say anything about Theodora, and you don’t have to say anything about Joshua Morse, either. But I do wonder why your nightdress had blood on it this morning.’

  Miss Doggett cried out, and jumped to her feet. ‘How dare you!’ she shouted. ‘You have no right! You wicked girl. You – you ought to beware. There are forces in this world – forces that should not be played with. I know ancient magic, and I can use it. I’ve done it before. If you don’t leave us alone, you’ll regret it. Just you wait.’

  And, with that, she darted from the saloon, shoving past Alexander.

  ‘Well!’ said Daisy briskly. ‘Wasn’t that illuminating?’

  ‘No!’ I said. ‘Daisy, that was horrid!’

  ‘Oh pish!’ said Daisy. ‘Nothing we haven’t heard before. It won’t come to anything.’

  But, as I stared at Daisy, I was not so sure. Magic might not be real, but murderers certainly are. And murderers do not tend to stop until someone stops them.

  14

  ‘So what does it all mean?’ asked Amina, once Miss Doggett had gone.

  ‘It means that we’re getting closer to working out who committed the murder!’ said Daisy, getting up with a bounce. ‘Ah, that’s better! It’s tiring being a grown-up. You have to sit so still.’

  ‘I thought you couldn’t wait to be one,’ I said, rather sarcastically.

  ‘Don’t, Watson, it doesn’t become you. All right, all right, let’s sum up! What first?’

  ‘Clues,’ I said at once, ignoring Daisy’s groan of ‘Hazel!’ for Alexander’s quick, surprised grin. Daisy always preferred to take each suspect first.

  ‘And we had plenty of them!’ said Alexander. ‘The sheet, the bloodstains, the pins – and the timings! Here, look, I made a note of the timeline.’

  ‘We don’t need that!’ said Daisy. ‘We’ve never done one before.’

  ‘Then it’s about time you did,’ said George. ‘Even the best detectives can get better.’

  The two of them eyed each other for a moment, and then Daisy stretched out an imperious hand. ‘Show me,’ she said.

  We all crowded round Daisy, looking over her shoulder at Alexander’s scribbled notes.

  ‘This is imprecise,’ said Daisy.

  ‘So it is,’ said George. ‘But it lists the main points. Well done, Alex. We know that Theodora was murdered between twelve thirty a.m. and two a.m. – quite close to two a.m., if we take into account the evidence of the blood on the sheet. It was still sopping wet when Mr DeWitt tripped over it. And, when we look at those separate events, we can see two of the four different times May was woken up – at twelve thirty, when Daniel was in Mrs Miller’s cabin, and just past two, when Mr DeWitt fell over the sheet and then threw the bottle into the Nile. So the other two must have been part of the murder!’

  ‘Isn’t Miss Doggett’s account one, though?’ I asked. ‘She must have been into Theodora’s room at some point – what she said about Theodora being tucked in doesn’t make sense otherwise!’

  ‘Well, she’s either a witch or she’s lying about not being there,’ said Daisy with a shrug. ‘And, since there’s evidence that she was in Theodora’s cabin, I would guess it was the latter. So that’s one of the other times May woke – and it might be the moment of the murder itself!’

  ‘You think she murdered Theodora and pretended to have a vision about it?’ asked George.

  ‘I think she certainly was there,’ said Daisy, the thinking crinkle appearing at the top of her nose. ‘I don’t believe in magic, after all. And the detail about the three wounds, and the sheet – wait a moment! Hazel, as usual, has got to the crux of the matter. The sheet was on the ground when Mr DeWitt came in, and was still there when Heppy found her this morning – no one but the murderer should have seen the body while it was covered by the sheet!’

  ‘So what does that mean?’ asked Amina.

  ‘It means that we are very close to being able to work out who the murderer was,’ said Daisy. ‘We have only two credible suspects left: Daniel and Miss Doggett.’

  ‘All right,’ said George. ‘But which of them was it? I think we ought to do a re-creation of the night to make sure.’

  15

  ‘All right,’ I said. ‘Let’s see. There are five of us, and six people who need to be in the re-creation. So – what do we do about that?’

  ‘I could be two people,’ said Daisy at once.

  ‘You can’t!’ said George. ‘We need to make sure that everyone is in the right place, and if you’re two people you can’t be.’

  ‘There aren’t five of us!’ said Amina. ‘There are six! You’ve forgotten May.’

  ‘I have not!’ I gasped. ‘May is not a detective. She might think she’s one, but—’

  ‘If she’s not a detective, I’m not, either,’ said Amina. ‘This is my first case, isn
’t it, but you’ve let me help? May’s exactly the same. I know she’s little, but she can’t do much about that.’

  ‘But she’s six!’ I cried.

  ‘She found the bloodstains, didn’t she?’ said George. ‘And she helped us in other ways. She’s done a lot for this case. I know she’s your little sister, Hazel, but she’s a good detective – or she will be one, some day soon.’

  ‘A new generation of the Detective Society, when we’re all grown up!’ said Amina, laughing.

  ‘That’s a terrible idea,’ said Daisy. ‘It implies that we will one day be too old for the Detective Society, whereas that will never be the case. I shall be Detective Society President until I’m one hundred, and I shall turn the Detective Society into an organization greater and more respected than even the Pinkertons – the real ones, not your version,’ she said with a toss of her head in Alexander and George’s direction. ‘But I grant you, we can use May. Someone go and get her.’

  ‘HELLO!’ said May, sticking her head out from under the bed.

  I shrieked. ‘How long have you been there?’ I asked her furiously.

  ‘Just now,’ said May. ‘I told Father I needed the loo and I ran for it. I’m ready to help with the creation thing you’re doing now.’

  ‘Re-creation,’ I said. ‘And – oh, May! You have to be careful!’

  ‘Why? You aren’t careful, and you’re all right. I want to be a detective like you, Big Sister. Only I don’t need your Detective Society. I shall invent something even better.’

  ‘How dare you!’ said Daisy. ‘Shrimps these days are getting far too bold. If you heard us, May, then you know what you need to do. You must be one of our suspects and do exactly what we say.’

  ‘All right,’ said May. ‘I want to be Heppy, though.’

  ‘Fine,’ I said.

  ‘I shall be Theodora, of course,’ said Daisy. ‘George, you be Mr DeWitt.’ They grinned at each other, highly amused. ‘Hazel, you be Miss Doggett, and Amina, you be Miss Bartleby. And Alexander—’

  ‘OK, I’ll be Daniel,’ said Alexander.

  ‘So,’ I said, ‘shall we start with the end of the ritual?’

  We stood in the saloon. Outside, the sun was low to the west, its rays almost horizontal, and the ship was shivering and juddering as it moved through the water. Our journey was almost over. We would be pulling in to Aswan in little more than an hour, and the problem was not yet solved. We would have to present our solution to the Hatshepsut very soon. My heart raced.

  ‘So we begin,’ said Daisy, raising her arms dramatically. ‘It is past ten, and Theodora – me – is holding her ritual. Amina, you’re Miss Bartleby, George, you’re Mr DeWitt, Hazel, you’re Miss Doggett, and May, you’re Heppy, so you’re all my acolytes. We’re all in the saloon. Alexander, you’re Daniel, so you go outside and wander about in a rage for a bit.’

  ‘What’s acolyte?’ asked May.

  ‘Follower,’ said Daisy. ‘Be quiet. Now is the moment when Alexander, as Daniel, BURSTS through the door and argues with me. Hello, Alexander, very good. Everyone is very upset. It’s eleven p.m. What happens now?’

  ‘I take you to your cabin,’ said Amina. ‘We’re using your cabin as hers, aren’t we?’

  ‘Yes, we are – go on, then,’ said Daisy. They beamed at each other, and I knew perfectly well why she had chosen Amina to be Miss Bartleby. ‘Everyone else, please follow the movements of your suspect on the night of the murder. Remember, every minute is ten minutes in real time. Keep a close eye on your wristwatches if you please! Hazel, where is your wristwatch?’

  ‘I gave it to May,’ I said.

  ‘I’ve got a spare one in our cabin,’ said Alexander. ‘D’you, er, want to come get it?’

  ‘Oh, er, all right,’ I said, blushing.

  ‘GOOD LORD, HAZEL, HURRY UP!’ said Daisy. ‘You don’t want to miss anything.’

  Flushed with shame, I rushed out of the saloon after Alexander. It was even worse when we arrived in Alexander and George’s cabin. It felt so strange and wrong to be here – seeing George’s clothes pressed tidily and hanging in their wardrobe, shoes together beneath his bed, and Alexander’s scattered chaotically across the floor and the dresser, mixing with pots of brilliantine and toothpaste and half hiding a pile of magazines and notebooks and pencils and thick, serious-looking tomes. The room smelled of soap and paper and that funny boy smell that somehow is nothing like a Deepdean dorm.

  ‘Oh,’ said Alexander, ducking his head and running his hands through his hair awkwardly. ‘I’m sorry. I’m usually not this messy. Hold on, I’ll get it for you.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ I said, my voice sounding very strange all of a sudden. ‘I don’t mind!’

  I stood and stared as Alexander dug in his chest of drawers. I found I was sweating at my elbows and knees. Desperate for something to do, I began to shuffle through the pile of books.

  ‘Got it!’ said Alexander, wheeling round and holding out a heavy silver watch. ‘It’s my dad’s. I don’t like to wear it, but you can borrow it. And look – Hazel. While you’re here. There hasn’t been much time – I mean – I’ve been trying to talk to you, but I just – I just think that you’re the most—’

  I did not seem to be breathing properly. Alexander was looking me in the eyes, not glancing away, and—

  ‘Oh, look at this book!’ I gabbled, snatching up one at random and brandishing it in Alexander’s face. ‘How interesting!’

  I felt the tension in the air fall and shatter like a cup on the floor. Alexander’s shoulders slumped.

  ‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Yeah. I guess. It’s got the case of that sleepwalker in it, actually, the one I told you about. OK, let’s go find the others. We don’t want to be late.’

  He walked away, out of the cabin, and, although I knew that I ought to be thinking like Miss Doggett to help solve the case, for several seconds I could not move at all.

  In the event, we were a little late. I only managed to stumble back out onto the deck, and towards Daisy’s room, as Alexander’s wristwatch told me that it was ten to two in our reconstruction.

  ‘Hurry up, Hazel!’ Daisy hissed from her bed. I did not even want to look at her. My head was swimming. ‘So, you’re having your vision of me, stabbed to death. But are you murdering me, or am I already dead?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said dully.

  ‘Hazel, whatever is wrong with you? What’s that book? Here, give it to me—’

  ‘HELLO!’ said May, from the doorway. ‘I’m sleepwalking! Look, I found this funny bit of bent-up wire – is it important?’

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake! Watson, go and hide – May can’t see you. May, where did you find that?’

  ‘Heppy’s room,’ said May. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Shouldn’t I be coming in now?’ asked George, from behind May. ‘I need to fall over the sheet, don’t I?’

  ‘You’re all doing this quite wrong! This doesn’t work!’ bawled Daisy, sitting up on her elbows and letting the sheets fall off her. ‘Stop crowding the cabin! Good grief!’

  ‘IS MY YOUNGEST DAUGHTER IN THERE?’ roared my father from the deck outside.

  May squeaked and tried to burrow into the bed next to Daisy.

  ‘This is chaos!’ complained Daisy, who was holding May’s wire in one hand while she flipped through Alexander’s book with the other. ‘None of you are taking this seriously—’

  And then she froze.

  ‘Good grief,’ she said again, looking down at her lap. ‘I – this has not been entirely in vain. Excellent news, Detectives. I believe I know what happened last night, and who the murderer is.’

  1

  It was just after five o’clock, and the sun was almost down, dropping liquid gold down through the sky and sliding below the high dark hill that had come into view on the west bank in front of us. The palm trees below it were a long dark scribble, and we were suddenly surrounded by feluccas sailing for the shore. Voices singing the call to prayer began to float
across the water, and lights were sparking up ahead of us and to our left. This was Aswan, at last, and our journey – and our case – was almost over.

  On deck, the air was shivery and dark, but we were in the saloon again, surrounded by soft lights and velvet seats. This time, though, we were not alone.

  All the passengers of the boat had been called in, and were sitting in lounge chairs in a semicircle, facing us. I looked at them and saw an unnerving range of emotions on our suspects’ faces. Miss Doggett was furious, vibrating with quiet, ferocious rage. Daniel was puffed up with anger that I thought was really more like terror, while Mr DeWitt was trying to hide his nervousness behind a proud front. Miss Bartleby, though, was scattered like clouds, her hands plucking at her skirt. Mr Mansour stood behind them, next to Heppy, who had been brought up from her prison cabin and was hunched in her seat, her eyes red.

  There was Mr Young, looking peaky and unsettled, Miss Beauvais looking despairing and my father sitting with Rose and May on either side of him, hands protectively on their shoulders. May wriggled crossly under his palm, and I really saw, then, that my father has given up on holding me down. He may not like what I do, but he has accepted it. Pik An had come up from her cabin too, still rather green and bilious-looking, but better, and was sitting near my sisters. Next to her, Amina, Alexander and George sat in a group, watching us rather enviously.

  ‘I have called this meeting—’ Daisy began importantly.

  ‘We have called this meeting,’ I said. Daisy glared at me, but I stared back at her without blinking, and at last she lowered her eyes and sniffed.

  ‘We have called this meeting to discuss what happened last night,’ I said.

  ‘Yes, indeed!’ said Daisy. ‘We have interviewed all the relevant parties, and we are now ready to present our conclusions.

  ‘LAST NIGHT,’ she began, ‘a terrible wrong was perpetrated. Theodora Miller was murdered. The crime looked simple. We all thought the explanation was clear – that Heppy Miller sleepwalked into her mother’s room and killed her. But, in fact, this crime was much more complicated than it first appeared. A deviously brilliant mind was behind it – a mind currently in this saloon.’