Chapter 7 #2
“My fiancé. I hate him!” she said, in a low voice but with startling vehemence.
“Then why?”
“Money. My father died less than a year after my grandfather, and the death duties were simply crushing. Mumsie squeezed enough out of my brother—not that it’s his fault, poor pet—to take me up to London for a husband-hunt.
I don’t suppose you went through all that.
I’m not saying I didn’t have fun, all the parties, dancing till dawn and then piling into someone’s car and motoring to Maidenhead to go on the river, silly stuff like that. ”
“And then you met … What’s his surname?”
“Riddman.”
“Riddman?” Daisy had a vague memory of having heard the name recently, but could not remember in what context.
“Chester F. Riddman III, ‘the Third’ meaning old money by American standards. His great-grandfather bought the patent of the safety pin from the inventor, for a hundred dollars, and made millions. Chester’s grandfather decided it was time the family added a spot of blue blood, so he sent Chester to Europe to find a titled bride. And he found me.”
“But he can’t have forced you to get engaged.”
“Oh no, I liked him right from the first. And I thought he liked me.” Brenda sounded bewildered.
“We had a lot of fun together, doing all sorts of crazy things. I was thrilled when he asked me to marry him and so was Mumsie. Not that she approved of all our larks, but she liked the look of the money. So we got engaged, and that was fun, too. We had a ripping engagement party at the Ritz, and all my friends were frightfully envious.”
“Then what went wrong?”
“We’d been going to a gambling club, a swish place, lashings of good champagne, not a dive, but it was madly exciting because it could have been raided by the police at any moment. We—Oh, hello, Miss Oliphant.”
“Good morning, my dear,” said the witch, with a kindly smile. “I hope you feel better this morning?”
“Much. Won’t you sit down? It was frightfully kind of you to take such good care of me last night. I was an absolute ninny making such a fuss, but it was a fearful shock seeing Mr. Denton fall overboard.”
“It was most fortunate that you did, or he might not have been rescued so promptly, if at all.”
Brenda brightened. “That’s true, isn’t it? But I shouldn’t have let my imagination run away with me.” She cast a look of appeal at Daisy. “The moonlight was very deceptive, wasn’t it?”
“Frightfully,” said Daisy, then caught herself up. It was rather infra dig, she had decided, for the wife of a Detective Chief Inspector to go around saying “frightfully.” “Clouds kept dashing across the face of the moon,” she explained to Miss Oliphant, “so shadows moved, or at least seemed to.”
She was no nearer coming to a conclusion as to whether Brenda’s story was true. For once she would be glad to let Alec make up his own mind without trying to influence him.
With Miss Oliphant sitting on Brenda’s other side, Daisy was not going to hear any more about Chester Riddman. She
was about to excuse herself to resume her search for Alec when a young deck steward brought elevenses, the usual bouillon and biscuits.
“Not many customers this morning,” he said with a cheeky wink, “and it’ll get rougher before it gets smoother.”
“I say, don’t frighten the ladies,” said Phillip severely, coming up behind him with Gloria.
“I seem to be quite all right,” Daisy said cautiously.
“So far,” observed the steward, not quite sotto voce. “Another biscuit, madam?”
Daisy took two, just in case Phillip and Gloria inveigled her into any vigorous games. They joined the group, and the others were treated to a tug-by-tug description of the tug-o’-war.
“I busted three nails,” said Gloria ruefully, spreading her hands, “and chipped the polish. I better go make an appointment at the beauty parlour for a manicure.”
“I’ll come with you,” Brenda said. “I must get my hair done. The salt air is simply murder.”
They went off together, and then Miss Oliphant went to look for a library book, leaving Daisy and Phillip together.
“Have you seen Alec?” she asked. “I don’t know where he’s got to.”
“Sea-sick, isn’t he?” Phillip said with a heartless grin. “He left breakfast in quite a hurry. I expect he’s in your cabin in bed.”
Daisy was indignant. “He’s done lots since breakfast. The Captain asked him to investigate Mr. Denton’s falling overboard.”
“How do you like being married to a ’tec, old bean?”
“He hasn’t done any detecting since we’ve been married, except this business, and it doesn’t look as if there’s anything in it.”
“I suppose you’re mixed up in his fishy business, as usual. Dash it, Daisy, why don’t you keep your nose out of things?”
“You’re a fine one to talk! It’s not so long since you begged me to sort out your own fishy business.”
Phillip had the grace to look abashed. “That was for Gloria,” he said doggedly in extenuation. “And …”
“And Alec had to join in and pull your hot potatoes out of the fire for you. He nearly got into frightful trouble over that.”
“Yes, but that’s his job. He really ought to stop you meddling in his cases.”
“He can’t,” she said with considerable satisfaction, “though actually it’s just as often I who involve him. I just seem to land in the middle of things.”
“At least you’ll stop this writing tommy-rot now you’re married.”
“Not likely!” Daisy exclaimed. “Even if I wanted to, or Alec wanted me to, which he doesn’t, your own poppa-in-law’s responsible for my present job of work. You introduced him to me.”
“Americans,” Phillip muttered, “they don’t quite cotton on to what’s expected of a lady.”
“I didn’t notice you trying to stop Gloria going with you to inspect the engines. Don’t let’s quarrel, old dear. I really must go and find Alec. I’ll try the cabin first,” she conceded.
“Right-ho. Dashed fond of you still, you know, old bean,” Phillip said anxiously, giving her a hand to rise from the low deck-chair. “Just feel I ought to put in a word since Gervaise can’t.”
Daisy patted his cheek. “I know, Phillip. But I never did anything Gervaise told me to; and to do him justice, he rarely tried to make me. Toodle-oo.”
“Pip-pip. See you at lunch.”
Making her way down the companion-way, Daisy realized that the Talavera was tossing about noticeably more than earlier. The handrails along the passages came in useful now and
then to steady her steps. At one point, she didn’t grab on quite quick enough and found herself on the opposite side of the corridor. The heaves and bucks were fairly regular though, once one caught their rhythm. It was rather like dancing.
She found Alec not in but on his berth, curled up and hugging his stomach. He groaned as she entered, but he did not open his eyes.
Daisy was glad to see that the white china basin on the floor between the berths was empty.
No doubt it was a wife’s duty to hold his head, make soothing noises, and empty slops, but the longer she could postpone it the better.
It was entirely by choice that she had worked in a hospital office, not on the wards as a VAD nurses’ aide, in the last years of the War.
“Poor darling.” Sitting down on the other berth, the one they had both squeezed into every night so far, she noticed the spray constantly spattering the porthole. She regarded Alec’s greenish pallor with sympathy—and a touch of smugness, she had to admit to herself.
“Go away and let me die in peace.”
“No one ever died of sea-sickness.”
“Maybe not, but just now I’d like to.”
“Buck up, darling,” Daisy said bracingly. “I’ve got lots of news.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my ears, and I can hear just as well lying down. With my eyes shut.”
“Right-oh, but first tell me what Denton told you. Everything I’ve discovered may be irrelevant.”
“He’s too ill to speak. He wasn’t hit on the head, Amboyne says, but he’s unconscious, lucky devil.”
“Oh dear! The Dentons first, then. Mrs. Denton says they’re ordinary farm people, from Suffolk. A younger son emigrated and made enough money to pay their fare for a visit to America. The older son is in charge of the farm while
they’re gone. He’ll inherit it when Denton dies, but I can’t see him sneaking away to sea to bump his father off, let alone hiring someone to do it, can you?”
Alec groaned.
“According to Mrs. Denton, her husband is not a big drinker and is healthy as a horse—or was till last night. Not subject to dizzy spells, but she suspects the effect of the sea-air, which everyone knows is treacherous.”
“It’s not the air; it’s the water,” Alec muttered.
“Denton only had one pint of beer last night,” Daisy continued, “before he went up to the boat-deck to smoke his pipe. I didn’t like to ask if he’s the quarrelsome sort, who might have made enemies.
Even if he is, I simply cannot believe a village squabble could lead to an elaborate plan for murder at sea.
And the odds against anyone he knows being on board by chance must be astronomical. ”
“Nautical, at any rate.”
“If you’re making bad jokes, you must be feeling a bit better, darling. I’m sure a breath of fresh air, however treacherous, would do you good.”
Alec merely grunted, but at least his eyes were open now.
Guessing that listening to her kept his mind off his troubles, Daisy quickly went on.
“On the other hand, I bet everyone in the Dentons’ village knows all about their trip, what ship they’re sailing on, how long they’ll be away, the lot.
You’re a townsman, but that’s how it is in the country.
So if someone did dislike him enough to plot to kill him … ”
“Highly improbable.”
“You really believe the whole thing is a storm in a tea-cup?”
“Don’t talk to me about storms!”
“Sorry, darling. Well, since you’ve squashed my only conjecture arising from what Mrs. Denton told me, I’ll go on to Brenda.”
“Dash it, Daisy, you didn’t question Lady Brenda!” He sat up and swung his legs off the berth. “I wanted to talk to her before anyone put any ideas into her head.”
“I didn’t mean to. I was looking for you and she was sitting in a deck-chair looking so miserable I couldn’t just go past.”
Alec sighed. “No, knowing you, I suppose you couldn’t. All right, what did she have to say?”
“I didn’t exactly question her either, nor put ideas into her head. She was dying to talk. Chester Riddman, who’s her fiancé, told her to apologize for making a fuss and spreading rumours.”
“I thought so!”
“Wait! So I asked her why she’d made up such a story, and she said she hadn’t.
She saw a man sneak up on Denton. He bent down and she thought he’d stooped to pick something up—perhaps he’d noticed something valuable which he didn’t want to be seen snabbling.
But then he heaved and Denton flew over the rail. Well, toppled, anyway.”
“Merely corrob—”
“—orative detail intended to lend verisimilitude … I knew you’d say that.”
“All the same,” said Alec thoughtfully, “it’s exactly the scenario I’d envisioned.”
“I suppose it would be pretty difficult to send someone over with just a shove.”
“Yes, but I wouldn’t have thought she was bright enough to work it out for herself.”
“She’s not really thick,” Daisy protested, “just rather silly.”
“I wonder whether Harvey is sufficiently infatuated to suggest it to her in spite of my prohibition.”
“Harvey? The second officer? I thought he was just doing his duty by a prominent and pestiferous passenger.”
“Up on the boat-deck in the moonlight?”
“I wouldn’t put it past Brenda to drag him there. She may not be thick, but she’s pretty silly.”
“I dare say, but I doubt it took much dragging. She may only be trying to score off Riddman. Harvey’s smitten.”
Daisy frowned. “All the same, why would Harvey explain to her the best way to chuck a man overboard? Just so that she wouldn’t look quite such an utter ass?”
“It’s weak,” Alec admitted, “but possible. I’ll have to ask him. Sorry, love, for a minute it did seem that Lady Brenda’s story might have something in it.”
“It still might. You don’t think she’s in danger, do you, if she really did see something?”
“Hardly. Since she broadcast the news to the world immediately, there’s no reason to shut her up.”
“No, of course. Then we come back to why on earth anyone would … Oh, Alec, what if it was a mistake? Suppose Harvey mistook Denton for Riddman and decided to dispose of the competition?”
“What an imagination you have, love!”
“No, seriously, darling. You’re the one who said he’s madly in love with Brenda. I get the impression Riddman has some sort of hold over her, and she claims to hate him. It would explain her hysterics if she suddenly realized the wrong man went over.”
“Great Scott, Daisy, are you inventing complications just to get me up and moving? I suppose now I’ll have to investigate the possibility of a Suffolk small farmer being mistaken for an American playboy. I wonder what Denton was wearing?”
“You didn’t ask Harvey? He must know as he hauled him out. And Riddman’s probably in the Smoking Room. You can look for him after lunch.”
“Urgh,” uttered Alec, reaching for the basin. “Go away!”
Wishing she had not mentioned smoking or lunch, Daisy fled.