Chapter 9 #2
“An old maid like that? What else’d she waste her money crossing the sea for? You can tell she hasn’t got any to spare. Take my word for it, Daisy, I know what I’m talking about. Me, I can spot ’em a mile off.”
Being one yourself, Daisy thought unkindly. She didn’t believe it of the witch though. “All the same,” she said, “it can’t hurt to try her mint tea.”
“Not bloody likely! I bet she’d like to poison me so there’re two millionaires free.”
“I’d have thought one was enough for any woman.”
Wanda was oblivious to irony. “Give her a choice, wouldn’t it? Not that she’s got a hope, looking like what she does. Still, you better warn Gloria to watch out or her inheritance’ ll go down the drain.”
“I don’t believe Miss Oliphant is looking for a husband,” Daisy declared, “and supposing Mr. Arbuckle did take a liking to her and she agreed to marry him, I don’t believe he’d cut Gloria out of his will.
I sincerely hope you won’t pass on such bosh to Gloria.
Or anyone else, for that matter. Now, if you won’t try the mint tea, is there anything else I can do for you? Is Baines taking good care of you?”
“I suppose so,” Wanda said grudgingly. “Nothing she does makes me feel any better.”
“There doesn’t seem to be much one can do.”
“It’s helped you coming and talking to me though. It’s ever so kind of you, reelly. Gives a girl something else to think about than her insides. That reminds me, Dickie said you saw that man falling overboard last night. Tell me about it, do.”
Daisy disliked the avid curiosity in her voice, but she had to find something to talk about until Baines returned, so she described what she had seen.
“I didn’t stay to watch them pull him out. I was coping with the hysterical girl, remember.” She did not report the hysterical girl’s story. “Alec said they lowered the life-boat pretty smartly and pulled the chap in easily enough.”
“Did he say how he came to fall?”
“No; he was half drowned and he’s still too ill to talk. He must have had a dizzy spell, I suppose.”
“I bet that’s it.” Wanda sounded relieved, as if she had imagined there might be a madman on the loose, chucking people overboard right, left, and centre—or starboard, port, and amidships. “Poor bloke. Is he going to be all right?”
“It’s still touch and go, I gather.” Daisy was glad to hear the latch of the outer door click. “Well, I’d better be on my way. Alec has succumbed, too. I must go and soothe his fevered brow, or at least attempt to pour some mint tea into him. Cheerio, Wanda. I hope you feel better soon.”
And that was a fib, she reflected. The longer Wanda was incapacitated, the happier everyone else was, except, presumably, her adoring husband.
Wanda’s only response was a groan.
Alec greeted Daisy with a groan. Having taken the precaution of stopping at their steward’s pantry for hot water and Marie biscuits, she presented him with a fait accompli.
“I’ve brought you mint tea. It smells delicious.” She set the tray on the little fold-down table between the berths, pleased with herself for carrying it safely.
“No thanks.”
“Darling, you simply can’t go on lying here feeling sorry for yourself when there may be a murderer aboard. Sit up.”
“Bully.” But he sat up, though he stayed hunched over, hugging his knees to his chest.
Daisy poured half a mugful, the most that was safe with
the ship behaving like a rocking horse in two directions. “Here, eat a biscuit while the tea cools a bit.”
“Ugh!”
“Right-oh, tea first, then biscuit, then the fresh air treatment. Alec, Denton was wearing an overcoat and hat, so it was impossible to tell whether he was in evening dress, but all the same, no one could possibly have mistaken him for Riddman. One’s tall and thin and smokes cigars, and the other’s shortish and sturdy and smokes a pipe. ”
“Not Harvey then, thank heaven. I hate to think what Captain Dane would have said if I’d told him to clap his second officer in irons. But if Denton’s short, it makes it all the less likely that he should fall over the rail without assistance.”
Pondering, he relaxed his death grip on his knees.
Daisy put the cup into his hand and he sipped automatically.
Since the taste did not cause him to fling mug and contents across the cabin with a cry of disgust, Daisy ventured to pour some tea into the second mug she had brought.
After all, Miss Oliphant had said it was better for warding off sickness than curing it. One might as well make sure.
“It is delicious,” she said in surprise.
“Huh? Oh, not bad. Daisy, the whole thing seems inexplicable, but it strikes me that as Denton holds the only key, he may be in danger.” He nibbled the biscuit she put into his free hand.
“The nurse said she’s never away from him for more than a couple of minutes.”
“That’s all well and good while he’s so ill. But when he starts to recover, as we must hope he will if we’re ever to get to the bottom of this …”
“Not to mention for his wife’s sake, and his family’s, and his own!”
Alec smiled at her, holding out his empty mug. “That goes
without saying. I want you to arrange for a trustworthy member of the crew to be with him at all times.”
“Darling, they’ll never do it on my say-so, not in a million years!” She watched him thirstily drink another half cup of tea and crunch a second biscuit. “You’ll just have to come up and give the order yourself.”
“I’ll write a note to Harvey.” He set the cup on the tray and swung his feet to the floor.
“No, you jolly well won’t. Here, put your jacket on while I get our coats. We’re going out.”
“Daisy, I …”
“For the honour of New Scotland Yard!”
“There’s a ringing slogan.” He gave her a crooked grin, stood up, and staggered. “I’m going to have to keep moving or I shall disgrace the Yard, myself, and you. Come along.”
He shrugged into his jacket as he strode along the corridor, weaving in response to the ship’s sway.
Trying not to giggle at his gait, Daisy trotted after, burdened with their winter coats.
At the companion-way he ran upwards, his hand on the rail, and Daisy freed one hand from the coats to hang on.
She was glad she had. Halfway up, the rhythm of the pitch and roll was interrupted by a sudden plunge in an entirely new direction. Dropping the coats, Daisy grabbed the rail with her other hand and hung on with both.
“Alec, wait!”
He turned back. “Sorry, love. Come to grief?”
“The ship did a peculiar wiggle, sort of like doing the tango. I can only cope with a waltz.”
“It’s been wiggling peculiarly for quite some time. Don’t remind me.” He started to stoop to pick up the coats, but straightened abruptly, sweat on his pale forehead. “I don’t think I’d better bend down, and I really must keep moving.”
“It’s all right, I can manage. Just slow down a bit, darling.”
“I’m trying to leave my stomach behind. I’ll take my coat; yours too if you like.”
Daisy gave him his but kept her own over her arm as they started upwards again. “Where are we going?”
“The bridge. There’s no need for you to come though.”
“I’d quite like some fresh air, if it’s not pouring. I left my hat below.”
Reaching the promenade deck, Daisy was relieved to find that the Talavera had settled back into her steady waltz.
The windows were streaming with water, whether spray or rain she couldn’t tell.
Practically all of the deck-chairs had been folded, stacked, and roped to iron rings on the bulkhead, though a few hardy passengers still sat out in the draughty promenade, wrapped in rugs.
Daisy and Alec put on their coats and ventured out into a damp, blustery, grey world. Air and water were inextricably mixed, the horizon invisible in an all-encompassing blur of leaden clouds and leaden waves. Not a soul was out on the open forward deck.
Alec took Daisy’s arm, both steadying himself and bracing her as they battled the buffeting wind to the central companion-way. The climb up the steep steps was a matter of hauling oneself up with both hands.
Up on the boat-deck, the south-west wind gusted more fiercely. Sheet metal boomed and the wire guys on the masts twanged. The Talavera was no longer merely a tilting floor but a live creature, meeting the challenge of the ocean with a steady purposefulness.
“If I’d worn a hat, I’d have lost it in no time,” Daisy bawled, exhilarated.
“It’s drier up here,” Alec bawled back. “Not much spray comes so high.”
“I think it’s raining a bit. Mizzling.” She stuck out her
tongue. Her lips were salty but the drops touching her tongue were not. “I must look like a drowned rat!”
He grinned. “Not yet. Let’s see if Captain Dane will allow you onto his sacrosanct bridge.”
Several determined exercisers were marching around the deck, some in full suits of oilskins, some in Burberries, macs, or overcoats, and tweed caps which only a miracle could possibly keep on their heads.
As Alec and Daisy crossed to the bridge, the miracle blinked and a cap went cartwheeling between two life-boats and over the side.
Its owner rushed to peer after it, as if he hoped there was some chance of retrieving it.
Alec banged on the bridge door, and they were both invited in. Captain Dane was taking a watch below, leaving the first officer in charge. He agreed to station a man to sit with Denton.
“But I hope it doesn’t mean you now think it was attempted murder, sir,” he said. “If so, the Captain won’t be happy, I can tell you.”
“No, I still doubt it, but it’s an elementary precaution I ought to have seen to sooner. I suppose I ought to report my findings so far to Captain Dane when he’s next available.”
“I’d wait till he sends for you, if I were you. He doesn’t really want to hear anymore about it unless he’s forced to.” He glanced at Daisy’s damp hair. “Let me lend you a couple of sou’westers before you step outside again.”
Settling the yellow oilskin hat on her head as the door closed behind them, Daisy exclaimed indignantly, “Your findings!”
“For the honour of Scotland Yard. If I end up having to write a report on this business for the Super, I’ll give you full credit.”
“Better not. The A.C. might burst a blood vessel.”
With the sou’wester folded back so that she could see out, the strap tightened under her chin, Daisy felt quite waterproof and ready to accompany Alec for a turn about the deck.
“I do feel better in the fresh air,” he admitted. “The trouble is, now I dread going below.”
“We’ll keep walking till you get your sea-legs,” Daisy said optimistically.
They strolled aft along the port side, crossed to starboard, and started back.
Here the superstructure protected them from some of the wind.
Two or three people stood leaning against the railing.
Daisy recognized the nearest, a familiar figure in his caped overcoat and fore-and-aft cap, with the ear-flaps down now.
His back to them, Gotobed appeared to be sheltering his pipe in cupped hands.
As they approached, he turned, saw them, and waved. Daisy veered towards him, but Alec held her back.
“Just wave,” he said into her ear. “I don’t think I can cope with pipe smoke.”
“Stay to windward, darling. Or do I mean leeward? I want to tell him about my visit to Wanda.”
In the brief delay, a tall man who had been walking towards them went up to Gotobed, cigarette in hand, and said something.
He was pretty well bundled up in a beige raincoat, blue muffler, and soft hat jammed down onto his head, but Daisy thought he looked like one of Wanda’s admirers.
Both men turned towards the rail, backs to the wind, Gotobed reaching into his coat pocket.
As he withdrew his hand, a cross-wave hit the Talavera.
She plunged skittishly: “Tango-ing again,” squeaked Daisy as she lost her balance and scampered involuntarily forward, putting out both hands to catch the rail.
Concentrating on not crashing into it, she caught a glimpse of Alec lurching past her, hand to mouth, while Gotobed and the other man did a sort of dance step around each other.
And then the stage-door Johnnie spun round, slumped doubled up over the rail, and toppled over.