Read To Davy Jones Below Online

Authors: Carola Dunn

To Davy Jones Below (21 page)

Daisy kept stuffing Alec with sandwiches until he swore he could not eat another crumb. “I'd like to talk to Mr. Denton,” he told the nurse. “Dr. Amboyne said he's well enough.”
“That he is, sir,” affirmed Mrs. Denton, “long as you don't
make him talk too long. He didn't ought to get to coughing, Doctor says. But he were asleep when we come out. He needs his sleep, don't he, Nurse?”
“Always napping, and the best thing for him, but he doesn't usually sleep very long. I'll just take a peek and see if he's awake, Mr. Fletcher. If he is, you can go right in, but you won't mind if I go too; it's my bounden duty to see you don't tire the poor lamb.”
If Nurse was going to be present at the interview, Daisy had no more intention of being left out than Mrs. Denton had of letting her husband be questioned without her at his side. The four of them gathered around Denton's hospital bed. Wanda's body had been removed. Daisy didn't care to wonder where it was being stored for autopsy.
Denton's breathing was laboured, his weathered face sallow without the ruddiness of health, but his eyes were bright enough. Mrs. Denton took his calloused hand and said, “Well, Pa, here's folks come to see you. The gentleman wants to ask you some questions. He's a detective policeman from Scotland Yard.”
“Mr. Denton, do you remember what happened? How you came to fall over the railing into the sea?”
“Aye, I mind well!” wheezed the farmer. He continued with frequent pauses to catch his breath. “'Tis not the sort o' thing a chap'd forget. There were I, leaning on the rail and a-smoking of me pipe, peaceable like. Moonlight 'twere, pretty as a picture. You should've bin there, Ma.”
“I wish I were!” lamented Mrs. Denton.
“I were just wond'ring if our Albert was done planting the winter wheat, when I feels someone a-grabbing of me ankles and he gives a great heave, and over I goes, clean as a whistle.”
“Brenda was right,” Daisy mouthed at Alec.
“And I lost me pipe and the cap Ma got at the church jumbly sale,” Denton added in an aggrieved voice.
“'Twere his fav'rite pipe,” Mrs. Denton explained, “and a fancy cap wi' ear flaps to keep out the cold wind, as was Squire's father's in the old days.”
Daisy held her breath as Alec asked, with what she considered unnatural calmness, “Not a fore-and-aft cap? Did it have peaks both in front and at the back?”
Mrs. Denton nodded. “That's right, sir.”
“Kep' me neck warm.” Denton's voice was failing.
“That's enough now,” said Nurse. “Time for your medicine and a nice nap, Mr. Denton. I can't let you ask the poor lamb any more tonight, Mr. Fletcher, he's had enough. It'd be as much as my job's worth.”
“One more question. Mrs. Denton can answer it. Would you please describe your husband's overcoat, ma'am?”
“His coat?” Mrs. Denton asked, surprised. “'Tis quite ordin' ry, brown what they call tweed, with a cape to keep off the rain. That were Old Squire's, too, from the bazaar. 'Twon't never be the same again after that sea-water ducking,” she added sadly.
“Thank you,” said Alec. “Please accept my best wishes for your swift recovery, Mr. Denton.” He headed for the door.
Daisy followed, bursting with excitement. As soon as the sick-bay door closed behind them, she exclaimed, “Someone took him for Gotobed!”
Alec smiled, but said, “Gotobed's coat is grey.”
“It was moonlight. Colours don't show. Someone tried to kill Gotobed. I bet it was Pertwee, and he was going to try again, only that cross-wave threw
him
over.”
“Try again in broad daylight, with people about?” Alec asked sceptically.
“Darling, you don't
still
think Gotobed's the villain?”
“Let's say my mind is considerably more open than it was a quarter of an hour ago, but we still have Wanda's death to account for. I must talk to the steward again.”
In spite of that “we,” he refused to let Daisy go with him and forbade her to go and see Gotobed lest she unwarrantably raise his hopes.
Disconsolate, she went along to Arbuckle's suite. Arbuckle had gone to see Gotobed, but she found Phillip trying to teach a card game—Racing Demon—to Gloria, Brenda, Riddman, and a young Italian couple. After Daisy's somewhat clearer explanation and a demonstration, they started playing. Several hilarious games kept Daisy from trying to work out what Denton's revelations led to and what Alec hoped to find out from the steward.
Arbuckle returned, looking puzzled. “Fletcher wants us all to meet in Gotobed's suite tomorrow after breakfast,” he announced.
“What for, Poppa?”
“I'll be darned if I rightly know, honey.”
“Us too, sir?” Riddman asked. “Birdie and I, that is.”
“Yes, both of you, but not our Eyetalian guests, of course. Do you know the low-down, Mrs. Fletcher?”
“Not exactly,” Daisy temporized. “And if I did, I shouldn't dare tell you. I'd better be getting along.”
She found Alec in their cabin, preparing for bed. Lucia Croce had not returned.
“Thank heaven,” Alec said.
“I dare say she'll stay with her husband.”
“I hope so. If she turns up in the middle of the night, I suppose as a gentleman I'll have to give up my berth to her and sleep on the floor. I'm much too tired.” He climbed into bed.
“It's been an endless day. Darling, what's this about a meeting in Gotobed's suite tomorrow morning?”
“You'll find out tomorrow morning. Come here.”
“You're much too tired,” Daisy teased.
“Not for some things. Come here.”
“A
rbuckle and Phillip and Gloria,” said Daisy, as she and Alec made their way towards Gotobed's suite next morning,”but why Brenda and Riddman?”
“Lady Brenda because she saw Denton's attacker. Riddman because he knew Pertwee and Welford better than anyone else.”
“Who else? Miss Oliphant?”
“Yes, Gotobed insisted. And Captain Dane's sending Harvey to represent him.”
“Harvey and Riddman? Oh dear!”
“Not my choice. Are they still rivals? I was under the impression that Lady Brenda had returned to her first love.”
“Or opted for money.” Daisy sighed. “I shouldn't think they'll come to blows, but I'm sure the air will be thick with invisible daggers.”
Everyone else was already there when they arrived. A couple of extra chairs had been brought in so there were enough to go around, set out in a semicircle with one facing them. Harvey was seated at one end, Brenda at the other with Riddman beside her. Brenda looked uncomfortable. The two men studiously ignored each other.
Daisy took the only free seat in the circle. Alec chose to stand, leaning on the back of the chair facing the group.
“Thank you all for coming,” he began. “The first thing I want to say is that we shall almost certainly never know for sure exactly what happened on this unhappy voyage. I have a theory which seems to me to tie all the loose ends together. Before you hear it, I must have an assurance from each of you that nothing you hear in here this morning will go any further, except, of course, Mr. Harvey's confidential report to the Captain. Lady Brenda?”
“I shan't tell, I promise. I know you all think …”
“Lady Brenda,” Alec interrupted, “if you had not held your tongue when asked, everyone on this ship would know what you saw the night Denton fell overboard. Mr. Riddman?”
One by one, they all gave their word. Alec continued.
“You have all been involved in one way or another. You may be able to point out weaknesses in my theory, or you may have ideas of your own. If so, I want to hear them. But before we go any further, Mr. Gotobed has something to say to you. Sir?”
Gotobed stood up and turned to face them. To Daisy, he looked rather like a Christian facing the lions.
“I'm telling you this,” he said heavily, “partly because it'll help you understand Mr. Fletcher's story, partly so you won't think too badly of me when you see I'm not mourning Wanda as a husband ought. It seems I niver was her husband.”
There was a surprised murmur, in which, Daisy noticed, Miss Oliphant did not join. Gotobed glanced at the witch, who gave him an encouraging smile. He continued with renewed confidence.
“They say there's no fool like an old fool. That's me. I knew Fairchild was Wanda's stage name, but I never enquired further, not even when that's how she signed the marriage certificate. Her real maiden name was Pertwee. And when I married her, she was already the wife of Henry Welford.”
A collective gasp this time, again not echoed by Miss Oliphant. Gotobed resumed his seat beside her, and she took his hand. Silently, Daisy cheered.
“Now it's your turn, Lady Brenda. Would you mind describing for those who haven't heard exactly what you saw that night?”
Clearly and briefly, Brenda described seeing Denton tipped overboard. “You believe me now?” she asked.
“Mr. Denton has confirmed your report,” Alec told her. “He—or rather, his wife—has also described his clothes in more detail than you were able to make out in the dark. Not only was he smoking a pipe, he wore a fore-and-aft cap and a caped greatcoat.”
“Jeez!” Arbuckle exclaimed. “In the dark, he'd be the spitting image of Gotobed!”
“By Jove, yes!” said his son-in-law. “Hang it, old chap, d'you mean to say Mr. Gotobed was the real target?”
“It seems probable,” Alec confirmed. “I've been unable to dig up any reason why anyone should attack Denton, an inoffensive farmer. But Mr. Gotobed had made a will in his presumed wife's favour. Others would have profited by his death.”
“Pertwee and Welford, I guess,” said Gloria, “and Wanda herself. Golly gee!”
“I suspect either Pertwee or Welford attacked Denton in the mistaken belief that he was Mr. Gotobed. Does anyone have a cogent argument against?”
People looked at each other. Heads shook.
“Good. The next bit is more complicated, more of a leap of faith. Pure speculation, in fact. I'm assuming that our precious pair had no intention of giving up the battle after their unfortunate mistake, which, remember, nearly resulted in the death of a stranger.”
“Waal, now,” said Arbuckle thoughtfully, “they wouldn't want to make the same mistake again, would they?”
“Exactly, sir.”
“So that's why Pertwee approached Mr. Gotobed in broad daylight and spoke to him,” Daisy reflected. “But surely he didn't plan to chuck him in then, darling, in front of everyone, including us?”
“Hardly. No, his part was to identify the victim and keep him standing in one place. In deference to the ladies, I shan't describe what Mr. Gotobed saw and reported. What none of you know except Daisy and Second Officer Harvey—and Mr. Gotobed himself—is that Pertwee apparently fell over the rail because he was shot.”
“So that's why you asked me about guns!” said Riddman. “I thought you'd got a mite mixed up and forgot Pertwee drowned.”
“Drowning is probably what killed him, but he might have been saved if he hadn't been shot first. As I see it, Welford was concealed with a firearm somewhere in the superstructure. There are plenty of good hiding places, and my sergeant discovered Welford'd been a marksman during the War.”
“Alec, you didn't tell me!” Daisy cried indignantly. “That's not fair.”
He grinned. “Sorry, love. I told you what seemed to me at the time the vital part of the wireless message. I forgot that minor point, which I'd skimmed over when reading it, and didn't remember until I heard Denton's evidence and my viewpoint switched a hundred and eighty degrees. To return to our story: We have Welford hidden on the boat-deck, Pertwee keeping Mr. Gotobed occupied.”
“And then the cross-wave hit the ship,” said Gotobed. “Either Welford was just pulling the trigger, or his finger jerked as he tried to keep his balance. Any road, his aim would be upset. And in the meantime, Pertwee and I danced our little jig as we tried to keep our balance.”
Harvey drew the obvious conclusion. “So the bullet meant for Mr. Gotobed hit Pertwee.”
“By Jove,” said Phillip, “the fellow was jolly well done in by his own accomplice!”
“That's my guess,” Alec agreed.
“Welford must have been simply shattered.” Daisy could almost sympathize. “I suppose he bunged the gun over the side right away, to get rid of the evidence. He couldn't know the body would not be recovered. But do you think he still wanted to kill Mr. Gotobed, darling, or did he decide to try blackmail as he'd proved such an incompetent murderer?”
“Remember the bludgeon found in the scuppers. Perhaps by then a desire for revenge for his brother-in-law's death may have added to his greed as motive.”
“You mean he blamed Jethro”—Miss Oliphant blushed, but continued with undiminished indignation—“Mr. Gotobed for Welford's demise?”
“Criminals are even more liable than the law-abiding to blame someone else so as to avoid accepting their own responsibility,” Alec said dryly. “It tends to make them incautious, which is a great help to us. Let's move on. Now we have a rough sea, a violent and bitterly cold wind. Mr. Gotobed is not deterred. He goes out and, during a lull in the wind, climbs the steps to the boat-deck. Welford, who has been spying on him, hoping for a chance, follows.”
“We saw him,” Daisy said. “Not his face. He was very well bundled up. He could easily have hidden a bludgeon under his coat.”
“At the head of the companion-way,” Alec resumed, “Mr. Gotobed has stepped aside and stopped to admire the view. Welford reaches the top, takes out his life-preserver …”
“Life-preserver?” Brenda asked uncertainly.
“Sorry, the bludgeon. He raises it, preparatory to bringing
it down on his victim's head. It's heavy, weighted with lead. At that moment a tremendous gust strikes. With the weight high above his head, his balance is already disturbed.”
“If his hands had not been otherwise occupied,” Miss Oliphant said severely, “he might have been able to grasp the rail.”
“I guess the wind and the waves were
your
life-preserver, Gotobed,” said Arbuckle.
“Aye, t'weather was on my side.”
“In a sense,” Alec concurred, “though the villains' stupidity in failing to take conditions into account was also responsible for their ruin.
“Now we come to the fourth incident. Mrs. Gotobed, as she was then assumed to be—perhaps it's easiest if I refer to her as Wanda—Wanda, then, knew of the deaths of her brother and her actual husband. She knew Mr. Gotobed was under suspicion in their deaths.”
“I assumed it was his being a suspect that was upsetting her.” Daisy recalled Wanda's horror. “But it must have been her real husband's death.”
“Gotobed was suspected of killing Welford,” said Alec, “yet when offered alternative accommodation she chose to remain in the suite with him.”
“I thought it proved she trusted him and really did love him in her way,” Daisy said mournfully.
“That was the obvious inference when we were unaware of her connection with the deceased. We'll never know her true feelings, though in view of her willingness to commit bigamy, I believe we can take it she was from the beginning part of the plot to commit murder.”
Daisy nodded. “When Denton was tipped over, she knew Mr. Gotobed had gone up to smoke his pipe. She probably alerted the others. But what I find terribly persuasive is that
she was so sure it must be Mr. Gotobed who had fallen in. At the time, I thought she was being either hysterical or theatrical, like Brenda.”
“I wasn't!”
“No, sorry, of course you weren't. But Wanda reacted exactly the same way when Welford drowned. Again she was convinced it must be Mr. Gotobed who had fallen in. Yes, I'm sure she was in on the planning.”
“You betcha!” Arbuckle agreed with fervour. “Heck, I always knew she was bad news; I just didn't know how bad.”
“The rest is pure conjecture. Presumably she realized Pertwee and Welford's bungling was responsible for their deaths, yet she may have held Mr. Gotobed partly to blame because his luck had thwarted them. So again, revenge may have entered into the matter. In any case, there was still a fortune at stake.”
“If she wasn't really frightfully keen on her brother and her husband,” Brenda proposed, “maybe she was glad she wouldn't have to share the filthy lucre.”
“Possibly. Whatever her reasons, she appears to have decided to proceed with the plan. The means she had to hand. The drops she used to make her eyes look larger and more lustrous are deadly when ingested.”
“In-whatted?” Phillip asked in puzzlement. Daisy wondered just what he thought one could do with eye-drops besides put them in one's eyes. She also silently wondered why Wanda had asked to see Miss Oliphant again. Had she hoped the witch might be blamed for Gotobed's death?
“Swallowed,” Alec explained to Phillip. “A very small amount can be fatal if treatment is delayed, which is quite likely as symptoms don't appear for several hours. However, Wanda used most of the remaining contents of her vial, which, according to her maid, was nearly full.”
“She wanted to make absolutely sure,” said Daisy, “but how did she come to take it, darling, instead of Mr. Gotobed?”
“I'm getting to that,” Alec said patiently. “Let's consider why she chose yesterday's lunch as the time to act.”
“Something to do with the
Garibaldi
sinking?” hazarded Brenda.
“Sure, baby,” said Riddman. “I guess Mr. Gotobed would've told her he was gonna take in some Eyeties.”
“I did.”
“Them being there'd put the kibosh on the whole deal.”
“And with the chaos attendant upon the rescue,” Miss Oliphant added, “the chances of help being delayed until it was too late were vastly increased.”
“Besides which,” said Daisy, who had worked out another factor yesterday, when Alec told her he had to see the steward again, “lots more passengers than usual were lunching in their cabins, so the steward serving lunch would be run off his feet and less likely to notice anything amiss.” She was beginning to think Alec was very clever to let everyone have their say. This way, they all had a stake in his theories and were more likely to ingest them wholesale.

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