by C. G Oster
It opened to a printed form with ticket tape glued in the message section.
COPPER MINING LICENSE WITH COLONIAL OFFICE STOP PAYED BY CHEQUE STOP DRAWER TERRY WILCOTT STOP
Dory gasped. This was the link. Terry Wilcott had paid for the mining license for the property. It was all registered and he had paid by cheque. There was no doubt that he knew about the baron’s plans and the economic potential of this land. Terry had been a part of the planning. He’d even paid with a cheque from his account. Surely, he could not have intended to kill at that point as there was a clear link between him and the motive.
On flying feet, Dory made her way to their little cabin, where Lady Pettifer was leaning back on their scant pillows and drinking tea.
“Telegram from Ridley,” she said and held it out to Lady Pettifer.
After reading it, she looked up. “We have him,” Lady Pettifer said. “As much as by lying about it, he admits his culpability.”
Lady Pettifer sighed and put the note down on her lap.
“Now what?” Dory asked. “Should we tell the Captain?”
“Now things are complicated. We know he did it, but what jurisdiction is there to do something? Away from France and the people officially responsible for the investigation, there is little we can do. I think we must perhaps talk to the Captain and apprise him of the situation. Whether he can act on this information, we will have to see. The question is if Terry Wilcott presents a danger to anyone else. For now, we know exactly where he is. It may be that we have to leave this until we reach the UK.”
“Alright, we’ll see the Captain. Should we see him now before we leave port?”
“Yes, probably. Help me up.”
Dory moved to assist Lady Pettifer rise from the bunk. It was an unnatural position for her to get up from, dodging Livinia’s bunk as she did.
They walked toward where the bridge of the ship was, gingerly stepping over people in their little make-do camps along every available surface. The door to the bridge was gray metal with rounded edges. They had to knock and eventually a uniformed man appeared, eyeing them suspiciously.
“We need to see the Captain,” Lady Pettifer said.
“The Captain is busy at the moment,” the man said, preparing to close the door.
“It is a matter of some urgency.”
“The ship steward is tasked with handling passenger queries.”
It was a joke making out like this ship was designed to deal with passengers in any regard.
“This regards a crime,” Lady Pettifer said in her most grave voice that only a lady of the aristocracy could pull off. As expected, it made the man waiver. Lady Pettifer had a forcefulness when she needed it, a communication of authority that only persons of equal authority could face down. “As I said, it is a matter of urgency in light of our imminent departure.”
The man weakened. “I will speak to the Captain and see if he will see you.”
Lady Pettifer didn’t waver in her expectation and the man walked away. A few moments later, the Captain appeared. He wore a dark blue jacket with gold stripes around the cuffs. With his neatly trimmed gray beard, he did look the part. He had to be uncomfortable in this heat in that jacket.
“How may I be of assistance, madam?” the man said dryly.
“I am Lady Pettifer, and certain queries have brought to light the fact that we have a murderer onboard.”
The Captain’s eyebrows rose, but he didn’t look entirely convinced. “Was this a crime that occurred on this ship?”
“No, it occurred in France.”
The man was silent for a moment. “That makes things rather tricky as we are now in a British port. Do you have some evidence of this?”
Dory handed over the telegram to the Captain, who looked at it. Obviously, he wouldn’t get any understanding from that.
“This telegram establishes the motive, and shows clearly that he has been lying to us. It was sent by a DI Ridley from the Met.”
The Captain looked at the telegram again. “It doesn’t say so.”
“Are you suggesting I’m lying?” Lady Pettifer demanded.
“I am suggesting nothing of the sort, but you have to understand that it would be hard to arrest a man for a crime based on this… evidence. If we called in the Gibraltarian Police, they could only hold him for so long, having no body, no investigation, based on supposed evidence of a DI in the UK. I am, of course, not an expert at this, but I don’t expect they could pull together sufficient evidence in time involving such a complex case. It may be better to deliver this man to the UK, where the evidence against him is assembled.”
It struck Dory that they didn’t even have that. DI Ridley didn’t have a case against this man—that was the Gendarmerie in France. The baron wasn’t even a British citizen. It was even more complicated than the Captain assumed. Their option was to have him arrested here, where he would assuredly be released in a matter of days due to lack of evidence, to then slip across the border to wherever he wished, or to keep him on the ship where he would be delivered to England.
Unfortunately, this case was too complex legally for any of the assembled party to deal with, Dory realized.
“Under the circumstances, it is perhaps best that DI Ridley deal with this. But be aware of the situation and this man’s presence onboard the ship,” Lady Pettifer ordered.
“Mr. Terry Wilcott, I take it,” the Captain said. “It may be best to keep this information under our hats. Panic is never a good thing on a ship.”
“Noted,” Lady Pettifer said. “I need to send a telegram.”
The man eyed her harshly. “We are just about to leave.”
“As we have agreed this investigation and arrest is too complicated for us to deal with here. I would like to send a telegram to the Commissioner of Police. He is an associate of my brothers.”
“Tom,” the Captain said back into the bridge. A boy appeared. “Get this lady a piece of paper and then deliver it to the Harbor Master to send. Quick as you can, boy.”
A paper was found and Lady Pettifer dictated as Dory crouched to the floor and wrote. The boy sprinted away.
“I suggest you stay out of this man’s way during the rest of this journey,” the Captain said.
With a nod, Lady Pettifer took her leave. They walked over to the ship’s starboard side and watched the boy run down the gangway, which was just about to be retracted. The waiting crowd must have embarked already and they were ready to leave. The boy handed the note to one of the men working on the dock.
“Not sure that telegram will ever reach the Commissioner,” Lady Pettifer said. “Unfortunately, the Captain is right. A body in France during a war, and a culprit fleeing the country makes everything very complicated. As in France, no one has the resources to see to something like this right now. But if that telegram does reach the Commissioner, he would be duty bound to act. What he will achieve remains to be seen.”
“He will do what he can, I’m sure,” Dory said. The Commissioner would not come up with some civilized solution as he had for Lady Wallisford in sending her to Switzerland, Dory was sure. Extradition was hard under normal circumstances. During a war, it might be impossible.
Chapter 32
D ory felt strangely deflated when they got back to the cabin. The murder had been solved, the culprit identified. The fact that they couldn’t do anything about it was out of her hands. She’d done her part. Baron Drecsay didn’t perhaps have his revenge, or even justice, but what had happened to him was now known, and would continue to be so. His family would be told why he died, and hopefully that would be some comfort to them.
“I suppose we have done what we can,” Lady Pettifer said as she sat down heavily on the bunk again. “The greed is just unfathomable. I think I will have a little lie-down.”
Livinia appeared at the door. “It is said they’re selling coffee granules in the commissary.”
Coffee would make the next week much more tolerable. “I think I will go buy us so
me before it’s all gone.”
“I can’t believe how excited we are getting about some coffee granules that we would normally think were undrinkable.”
“I don’t mind the granules.” Dory said.
“Well, you wouldn’t.”
Thank you, Livinia, Dory thought through gritted teeth. It was easy to get offended by the things Livinia said, but living with her for the last two years had taught Dory that Livinia was largely unintentionally rude. She simply stated whatever entered her mind, and to her simply a statement of fact. As granulated coffee was cheaper and easy to make without the assistance of skilled staff, it would go to show that Dory, being from a more modest background, would like the taste as if it was what she was used to. To Livinia, that was pure logic.
Picking up her coin purse, Dory excused herself and walked toward the walkway along the port side of the ship. The commissary was on the other end of the ship and anything they had picked up from Gibraltar would find interested buyers before long. If Dory wanted coffee, she had to get some now.
The sun was very bright on this side of the ship. Heat radiating from the painted steel added to the sun’s harsh rays. There were people who shifted their daytime camps from the different sides of the ship depending on the time of day, seeking shade during the warmest hours.
Right now, this side was largely deserted. Walking past a protrusion, which narrowed the walkway considerably. Just past it, she saw Terry standing next to the railing, leaning casually. He looked up as Dory walked around the protrusion.
“Miss Sparks,” Terry said with a broad smile. “Going for a walk? One does need to stretch one’s legs on this journey. It is cramped, isn’t it?”
“It is not the most comfortable, but the times are dire.”
“They are, aren’t they?” Terry pushed off the railing where he was leaning. There was something uncomfortable about this. Dory took a step back. “I was wondering,” he started as he moved closer. He was still smiling and his stance wasn’t particularly aggressive. “Must be on your way to the commissary, I’m guessing. I am, too.”
“This isn’t near where you are staying.”
“Oh, you know where I am staying. Keeping tabs on me?”
“I just assumed. I saw you down the other end of the ship, so I assumed you were staying down that way.”
“Assumptions can be dangerous.”
That was enough for Dory. His actions weren’t overtly aggressive, but he’d even used the word ‘dangerous’. “I better go check on… Livinia.”
“See, I know you’ve been asking things you shouldn’t. Just can’t leave things alone, can you?”
Dory went to briskly walk back the way she had come. They were virtually unseen here. Granted, there were a few people on the story above. Dory could see their arms sticking out over the railing, but they weren’t watching.
Suddenly, she got yanked back. He had her by the hair. “You should have just left things alone.”
“Let go of me, Terry,” she stated, trying to pull away, but he was deceptively strong.
“I just can’t let you ruin everything. Nothing personal, Miss Sparks, but you have an incessant habit of sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”
“Let go,” Dory repeated, feeling panic flare up inside. Terry pulled her back and over. Dory grabbed the railing in a death grip as Terry’s arms snaked around her. His intentions were clear now. He was going to lift her over. With all her might, she pushed back against him as he tried to manhandle her closer to the railing.
Images of her falling into the water filled her mind. They were quite far from the shore now, but there was a chance she could swim back. Thank God she knew how to swim.
“You don’t really think throwing me overboard will cover up what you did. More than I know what you did.”
“You mean the old crone. I’m sure I can find some way to convince her.”
“Then you don’t know the lady in the least.”
“I can be persuasive. You know, I never wanted any of this. You brought this on by simply not letting it go.”
“You killed someone. You killed your friend.”
A blow to her head made Dory’s vision waiver. If she passed out, she would be over the railing in a heartbeat, drowning in mere seconds. The last thing she could afford right now was to lose consciousness.
Wrenching herself away, she tried to run, but it only gave him more leverage to lift her up, and now she had no grip. She had no way to thwart him in his intentions to hoist her over the side.
There was a thud and she was falling. Panic speared through every thought she had, but he was short, she wasn’t over the railing, was falling into it. Then a clear gong just before Dory’s shoulder hit against the solid steel of the railing wall. Pain flared across her entire back.
“Terry, you blasted miscreant,” Livinia shouted. As Dory looked up, she saw Livinia standing with two books in her hands, ready to strike again. Terry lay with his arm and half his body over Dory—the dead weight was hard to shift, but with all her effort, Dory managed to get out and away.
Splayed face down, he lay unconscious. The gong she’d heard must have been Terry’s head hitting the railing.
“You killed him, you sorry bastard,” Livinia said, kicking him harshly. The force of it moved him, but he was still unconscious. Others had started to arrive, drawn by the commotion and they stood around, watching agape as Livinia moved to strike him with the books again.
“No,” Dory said, moving to intercept her. “They’ll arrest him. He needs to be arrested,” Dory said, turning her attention to the crowd. A group of men moved in and lifted Terry up by the arms. They dragged him away and at that point, Dory didn’t care where as long as he was away from her.
Her heart was still pounding powerfully inside her chest. She’d been very close to being thrown in the sea and left behind. There was a good chance that no one would notice, and it would take hours before anyone confirmed that she was missing from the ship. If it hadn’t been for Livinia and her ability to strike true, Dory would be in the sea by now.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice breathy.
“I can’t believe it. Terry. Why would he do such an awful thing?”
“Money,” Dory said. “Plain and simple. He killed Drecsay so he could steal the land in Palestine.”
“Why?” Livinia demanded.
“There was copper beneath that land, apparently.”
Livinia’s face crumpled and her eyes grew glassy. “Drecsay died for a cheap robbery.”
“Basically.” It seemed Livinia was cut to pieces over Drecsay’s death. There really wasn’t the point in telling her that he’d been using her. Now Livinia’s purpose seemed logical. Both Dory and Lady Pettifer had assumed that Livinia had been the means to which Drecsay would restore the family wealth. An heiress is usually sought for that purpose, but that wasn’t his main project. So why the interest in Livinia? It could be that he simply liked her, but for some reason that didn’t sit right. An alternative reason would be that he needed money to set up the mine. That had been Livinia’s purpose. Drecsay was set to capitalize his mine in exchange for marriage and his title.
The man still wasn’t good enough for Livinia, who had never seen the pure commercial aspect of the bargain—and for that, Drecsay didn’t deserve someone like Livinia.
As for herself, Terry had just tried to murder her. The reality was only hitting Dory now and she felt her knees weaken. She needed to sit down. “Let’s return to the cabin,” she said in a shaky voice. In all, she had been useless in a fight against an assailant. If it hadn’t been for Livinia, things would not have resolved so well.
People parted as they walked past. In a way, Dory didn’t want to tell Lady Pettifer what had happened, because she knew the elderly lady would take responsibility for it, for allowing Dory to put herself in danger. This wasn’t Lady Pettifer’s fault. It wasn’t Dory’s fault. It was Terry’s fault.
Chapter 33
&nb
sp; N early every person on the ship was standing along the walkways as they neared the coast of Cornwall. It was still a fraught portion of the journey, where there was no guarantee that they wouldn’t meet a German submarine confusing them for a military ship. It did happen. Everyone had heard of the merchant ships that had been sunk by German submarines earlier in the year. And this looked like a merchant ship if one ever did.
But they had reached the coast, which made people hope that they were safe. Surely the Germans wouldn’t strike this close to the shore, but Dory honestly didn’t see a reason why that would put them off. At least they were close enough to swim to land, one person had said. A sinking ship with close to eight hundred people was never going to end well.
The other ship was in sight not far behind them. So far, they were both afloat, and approaching Southampton. Another day and they would be there.
After Terry Wilcott’s attempt on her life, he’d been imprisoned in the brig. It was nothing more than a cabin whose residents had grudgingly been evicted, but Terry was locked in there for the rest of the voyage. Dory wasn’t sure what would happen to him now, but in a way, she didn’t care. To her, it felt as though her part had been completed. It was up to others now to do what they did. Anything beyond this would be out of her hands. No doubt, she would at some point be called to testify in a hearing against him. It may even be in France. As to when, she couldn’t even guess.
Even Lady Pettiford came out of the cabin for the celebration for reaching the English coastline. This journey had been hard on her and she had quietly suffered through most of it. It didn’t do her body well to stay in such cramped quarters with barely enough room to move, and everywhere else was so full of obstacles, it was simply easier for her to stay put.
Mr. Fernley had done his best to serve, but there wasn’t room for him or really the need. Every day, he came with Lady Pettifer’s meals on a tray, then disappeared to wherever he’d found space on the ship. Dory had gotten the distinct feeling he hadn’t liked this trip much either. Beauty, who was confined to her crate had to despise it, but there wasn’t much for it.