Chapter 19
Alec was damp to the skin and tired from the unaccustomed exertion of hauling the Garibaldi’s passengers over the rail.
With the last of them brought aboard, he had gone down to change.
When he’d met Miss Oliphant, he’d stopped for a moment to exchange impressions of the rescue.
He had been about to go on, hoping to find Daisy in their cabin, when she had arrived looking disturbed.
Now, dampness and fatigue forgotten, he hurried towards the Gotobeds’ suite, considering the hint Daisy had reluctantly voiced.
Miss Oliphant as murderess? Surely she had not shot Pertwee, and she had certainly not pushed Welford down the companion-way.
Could she have deliberately poisoned Wanda?
The animosity between them was as obvious as the sympathy between Miss Oliphant and Gotobed.
Daisy had told him of Wanda’s accusations that the old maid was husband-hunting and would not turn up her nose at a millionaire, American or English.
Wanda was inclined to speak without taking into account the effect of her words. Had she said something to Gotobed which had led him to believe she was romantically involved
with Pertwee? Or had Gotobed seen them together and reached his own conclusions?
Either would explain Pertwee’s murder—which still left the puzzles of Welford’s fatal and Denton’s near-fatal plunges.
In any case, Gotobed was the obvious villain where Pertwee was concerned and the only possible murderer if Welford had been murdered. But would he poison his wife, whom he seemed genuinely to love in spite of her faults? Or had Miss Oliphant given her some dangerous herb?
Always supposing she had in fact been poisoned. Alec hoped it was a false alarm, a mountain created by Daisy out of a molehill. More than likely, Wanda had simply taken too many of her sleeping powders.
At that point in his reflections, Alec caught up with Miss Oliphant at the door of the suite.
“I knocked, Mr. Fletcher. There is no answer.”
“We’ll go in. This is no time to stand on ceremony.” He opened the door. “Great Scott!”
Five pairs of dark eyes stared at him.
“I’d forgotten Gotobed offered to take in a family.”
“I speak a little Italian,” said Miss Oliphant. “I shall endeavour to explain our presence. You had better go straight to Mrs. Gotobed. Call me if matters appear urgent.”
Alec went through to the bedroom. Wanda lay on the bed with the counterpane spread loosely over her. The lady’s maid stood up.
“Mrs. Baines?” It never hurt to give a woman a courtesy title, however she was normally addressed, and Mrs., if wrong, was less likely to give offence than Miss. “I’m Alec Fletcher. Has Mrs. Gotobed’s condition changed since my wife left?”
“It’s Miss Baines, sir. She hasn’t changed, not so’s you’d notice. But then, I’m not a nurse. She hasn’t moved a muscle, that I can tell you.”
“Thank you.” Alec checked Wanda’s pulse and found it
weak and fast but steady. Deciding to take advantage of Miss Oliphant’s being delayed, he picked up a scrap of paper from the bedside table. “Can you tell me what this is?”
“It looks to me like she took one of her powders, sir, to help her sleep. She was in a bit of a state earlier. I s’pose she thought a good nap would set her to rights.”
“No doubt. And this?” He held up the envelope.
“That’s what Miss Oliphant gave her, sir.
I don’t think she can’ve had any of that, because she’d’ve had to send me for hot water, which she didn’t.
It’s a sort of herbal tea. There’s no tea-pot nor cup and saucer like the steward would have brought, either, besides them all being so busy with those poor shipwrecked souls. ”
“And you didn’t bring her the glass of water for the powder?”
“No, sir, she must’ve got it from the washstand.
She sent me to get seltzer water; ever so thirsty she was this afternoon.
It took ever such a long time, what with everyone being busy, and when I came back, she was already asleep.
Truth to tell, I was relieved.” Baines hesitated.
“D’you think she’s taken too many powders, sir? ”
“Have you seen any papers other than this?” Alec countered.
“No, sir. I looked under the bed and in the waste-paper basket, too.”
“Good for you. You won’t be offended if I take a look around for myself? You may have heard that I’m a police officer. I’m trained to see things that other people miss.”
As he searched, his eye was caught by the array of gold-topped pots on the dressing-table. Finishing the search, without finding any papers, he went over to regard them with a frown.
“Which of these would be her eye-drops? No, don’t touch, please.” Damn, he thought, no fingerprint kit, but on
glass he might be able to bring up dabs with flour. The bottle Baines indicated was nearly empty. “Do you know what it is?”
“Belladonna,” said Miss Oliphant, coming in. “I warned her to stop using it. It is a highly dangerous preparation. It has its uses medically, but I never touch it.”
“Deadly nightshade,” Alec said. He turned to look down at Wanda, lying motionless. “Could it produce this effect if too much was introduced into the eyes?”
“I don’t believe so, but you must ask Dr. Amboyne.” She sat down on the edge of the bed and took Wanda’s wrist in her fingers. Her hands were square and strong, with shortcut nails. “I see she has taken some lemon balm,” she said, noticing the envelope on the table.
“That’s what you gave her? You couldn’t have got it mixed up with something else?”
“Not possibly,” Miss Oliphant said sharply. Nonetheless, she reached for the envelope and sniffed at the contents. “Baines, fetch some hot water, please. I shall drink a cup myself to prove it harmless.”
“I didn’t mean to imply …” Alec began, rather less than truthfully.
“I shall drink a cup. It is soothing to the nerves, and after the various occurrences of this voyage, I find my nerves in need of support.”
“I should never have guessed it, ma’am,” Alec said sincerely, as Baines went out. “Am I to take it that you consider Mrs. Gotobed’s life to be in danger?”
“I am not qualified to pronounce a prognosis, Mr. Fletcher. If she has taken two or three of her powders, I doubt it. If, on the other hand, she has ingested belladonna, I fear she is unlikely to survive. Immediate treatment can save victims, usually children who have eaten the sweet berries, but coma is the last stage before death.”
Alec stood looking down at Wanda. He didn’t like her,
but she didn’t deserve to die. “Where’s the doctor?” he said irritably, turning towards the door.
As if in answer, Amboyne hurried in, black bag in hand. “What’s up? What’s up?” he asked equally irritably. “I have a great many patients at present. What seems to be the matter, Miss Oliphant?”
“What’s wrong?” An agitated Gotobed came in behind the doctor. “Is Wanda ill? Seriously?”
Amboyne swung round. “I don’t know yet, and it will be easier to find out if you will please wait in the other room. I shall inform you as soon as I have a diagnosis, I assure you.”
“You too, Daisy,” said Alec, seeing her behind Gotobed.
Swallowing a protest, Daisy took Gotobed’s arm and gently led him out. He slumped into a chair, looking dazed. The Ferellis gathered around him, asking questions, chattering in sympathetic tones. The little girl climbed into his lap, and he put his arm around her.
Daisy took a chair at what little distance the room allowed. She was glad of the Ferellis’ concern. She did not want to have to try to answer Gotobed’s questions.
A couple of minutes later, Alec entered and came over to her. “Tired, love?” he asked.
“Yes! What’s the verdict?”
“Amboyne can’t tell yet,” he said loudly enough for Gotobed to hear, then went on more quietly, “He needs more information. Do you happen to know of any symptoms she suffered before she fell asleep?”
“Baines said she was very thirsty and her face was rather red. It sounded to me as if she might be running a fever.”
“You didn’t see her yourself?”
“No, she was in a filthy temper. In the end I put down the red face to sheer spleen. Alec, I feel dreadful. I ought to have done something straight away.”
“It might have been sheer temper, and if not, you couldn’t
possibly have guessed, love. I must go back. Send Baines right in when she returns, will you?”
“Oh, darling, perhaps you’d better tell Dr. Amboyne that when I went in later, after she fell asleep, the bedclothes were all tumbled and tangled as if she’d tossed and turned like mad. If she took a powder, wouldn’t she have fallen asleep at once?”
“Unless she took it because she couldn’t fall asleep. I’ll tell him anyway.” Alec dropped a quick kiss on Daisy’s cheek, straightened to see all the Ferellis staring, blushed, and fled back to the bedroom.
“Mio marito,” Daisy informed the smiling Italians.
Gotobed jumped up, the child still in his arms, and started towards the bedroom door. “What did Fletcher say? Is Wanda … ?”
“Dr. Amboyne is examining her,” Daisy said firmly, standing up to bar his way. “You will only delay him if you …”
Alec came back. “Amboyne thinks it’s belladonna poisoning.” He watched Gotobed’s face as he spoke, as did Daisy. She saw nothing but shock. “He wants to take her to the sick-bay immediately. Daisy, will you please go and find the nurse and have her bring a couple of men with a stretcher.”
“A stretcher!” cried Gotobed. “If it is urgent to get her there, surely we can carry her. It’s not far.”
“I’ll see what he says. But in the meantime, Daisy …”
“I’m on my way.”
Daisy met the nurse—as starched as ever despite the influx of patients—just bustling out of the surgery door to the passage, with a trayful of medicines.
“Oh, Mrs. Fletcher, you’ll be wanting to know about that Mrs. Crotchy. The gentleman that brought her along said she’s assigned to your cabin; but you needn’t worry, she won’t leave her husband, poor lamb, not that he’s as bad off as some.”
“I’m glad.” Daisy had forgotten Lucia. “But actually I’ve
come with a message from Dr. Amboyne.” She explained the urgent need of a stretcher.
As she spoke, the nurse turned back into the surgery and set the tray down on the doctor’s desk.
“Mostly pink pills, to keep them happy,” she explained briefly, “and the rest can wait; but we won’t wait to find a pair of men, never there when they’re wanted.
If you’ll just give me a hand with this, madam. ”
She opened a cupboard and took out a rolled-up stretcher. Carrying an end each, they manoeuvred it out of the surgery. It was more awkward than heavy.
The nurse locked the door and they set off along the corridor. They hadn’t gone far when they came across a couple of stewards and roped them in to do the donkey-work. Nurse and Daisy followed.
And all the while, Daisy was thinking. Belladonna?
The eye-drops of course. Suicide? Why should Wanda commit suicide?
She didn’t seem the type, besides having a rich and adoring husband ready to cater to her every whim.
But if not suicide, surely not murder? Daisy could not bring herself to believe the adoring husband had deliberately poisoned his bride.
Miss Oliphant? The lemon balm seemed innocent enough, but could the herbalist have given Wanda something else as well? Yet surely the principles which had made her refuse to help abort a foetus would not permit her to kill the mother carrying that foetus.
It must have been an accident.
Daisy failed to see how an accident could have happened. She had just reached this unsatisfactory conclusion when the procession reached the Gotobeds’ suite. The two Italian boys were on the watch. They ran in, calling out to “Signor Gottabetta.”
Wanda was moved onto the stretcher. The procession
wended back, led by doctor and nurse. Gotobed and Miss Oliphant followed the stretcher, and Daisy and Alec brought up the rear, several paces back.
“I don’t know,” said Alec softly, shaking his head.
“I just don’t know. If he only had a stronger motive.
He says she seemed perfectly well after lunch, quite cheerful, in fact.
She actually encouraged him to go up on deck to help, when they discovered the guard had left his post. But then, Amboyne says the symptoms of belladonna poisoning normally take several hours to develop.
He had a case when he was a country G.P.
, a child who ate deadly nightshade berries. ”
“Did he save the child?” Daisy asked.
“No. And he doesn’t hold out much hope for Wanda.”
“Oh, darling!”
“He agrees with Miss Oliphant that she’s reached the last stage before death. What she already had in her system from the eye-drops may have speeded things up.”
“It looks as if she took it at lunchtime?”
“It seems probable. I’ll have to get a description of the meal from Gotobed and talk to the steward who served them, see if their stories match.
I’m sure Gotobed is too clever to be caught out.
I doubt I’ll ever find proof that it wasn’t accident or suicide, which of course it may be.
Why should he have killed her? If you marry a chorus-girl, you must surely expect admirers from her past to bob up now and then. ”
“Sir! Mr. Fletcher, sir!”
They turned to find Kitchener hurrying after them. The wireless operator was waving several sheets of paper.
“Ah, from Scotland Yard?”
“Yes, sir. It came in awhile ago. I’m awf’ly sorry, I just haven’t had a moment to decode it till now, what with all that’s been going on. It’s … It looks to me rather nasty, sir.”
Alec gave him a stern look. “You’re to forget what you have read. Not a word to anyone.”
“My lips are sealed, sir, honestly.”
“Good. Thank you, Kitchener. You have been most helpful.”
There were three sheets covered in Kitchener’s sprawling writing. As Alec scanned them, Daisy heard his sharply indrawn breath, and then he exclaimed, “Great Scott!”
“What is it?” she asked, trying to read the scrawl upside down. “Darling, what has Tom Tring discovered?”
“Motive enough for any man,” he said grimly. He read on to the end, while Daisy bobbed about on tiptoe in her efforts to see over his shoulder. Folding the papers, he thrust them into his pocket.
“Alec!”
“Pertwee and Welford were well known as petty con men,” he told her, “though nothing was ever proved against them. Welford was the brains of the pair and used his public school background to good effect, while Pertwee brought in marks attracted by those flashy good looks. But more to the point: Tom sent Ernie Piper to Somerset House to search the Births, Marriages, and Deaths records. It turns out Pertwee was Wanda’s brother … ”
“What!”
“And Welford was her husband.”