Murder on the Marmora (6 page)

“Let’s wait a day or two, shall we? Then we can get used to the routine on board and find out when the music room is likely to be empty.”

“We don’t have to go there,” she said, blurting out the suggestion. “We could always find somewhere more private than the music room.”

“I’m sure your parents will want to be there to hear you.”

“They’ve heard my repertoire dozens of times. I’d be playing for you.”

“I see.”

There was an awkward pause. “Are you glad that you left Boston?” she said.

“Sometimes.”

“I couldn’t wait to get away,” she confided. “It’s so predictable. I knew exactly what I’d be doing every day of every week. There were no surprises. And the worst of it was that it’s terribly conventional. There’s a way of doings things that you simply have to follow. I’d never dream of talking as freely as this to anyone in Boston.”

“Why not?”

“Because we’ve only just met, Mr. Dillman. You’re a stranger.”

“I’m quite harmless when you get to know me.”

“But that’s the point,” she stressed. “Back in Boston, it would take months to get to know you. We’d have to go through all those ridiculous social rituals first. Go to the right places, meet at the right times, say the right things.”

“Some people find those rituals very comforting.”

“Well, I’m not one of them. And I suspect that you’re not, either.”

“No, Miss Goss. I’m not.”

She grinned again. “Then why do you still conform to the rules?”

“Rules?”

“Why do you call me ‘Miss Goss’ when you know that my name is Polly?”

He hunched his shoulders. “Courtesy, I guess.”

“But I hate being ‘Miss Goss.’ It’s exasperating.”

“May I call you Polly, then?”

“Of course,” she said, grasping his arm. “We’re friends now, aren’t we?”

She saw him first. He was alone. Genevieve found it remarkably easy to avoid being seen by him. Wearing a long coat and a large, wide-brimmed hat, she merged with all the other ladies on deck who were similarly attired. Genevieve simply had to turn her head and the brim of her hat obscured her face completely. Nigel Wilmshurst walked within a yard of her without even knowing
she was there. He looked older. When she’d first met him, she had been dazzled by his youthful zest and appearance. That seemed to have faded somewhat, though she did not subject him to any real appraisal. All she allowed herself was a glance at him as he strode past. He still exuded the confidence that had once impressed her. She could see it in his expression and in his bold step. But she felt no lingering affection for the man to whom she had once been engaged. If anything, she felt a mild repulsion. Too many unpleasant memories had surfaced.

Wilmshurst had not seen her but Walter Dugdale recognized her immediately.

“Ah!” he said with a throaty chuckle. “There you are, Miss Masefield.”

“Hello, Mr. Dugdale.”

Wearing a fur-collared cape and a hat with a tall crown, he looked even more like an amiable wizard. He raised his hat to her then stepped in closer so that she could hear him clearly above the tumult of the engines and the excited chatter from the passengers on deck. Closing one eye, he studied her through the other.

“Remarkable!” he concluded. “Quite remarkable.”

“What is, Mr. Dugdale?”

“You are, Miss Masefield. So is Myra—Mrs. Cathcart, that is. And so, to some degree, is her daughter though she, poor girl, chooses to hide her light under a bushel. All three of you are English roses.”

“Roses at this time of year? That’s rather perverse gardening.”

“I was speaking metaphorically,” he said with a smile. “It’s something to do with the shape of the face and the tilt of the head. There’s an endearing Englishness about all three of you. It’s such a pity that Lilian does her best to conceal it.”

“I don’t think she does it deliberately, Mr. Dugdale.”

“Maybe not, but the result is the same.”

“I’m sure that Lilian will mellow as the cruise progresses.”

“I do hope so,” he said, adjusting his cape around his shoulders. “She’s old enough to stand on her own feet yet she still relies too completely on her mother. I had tea with them earlier. To be honest, I’d planned on being alone with Mrs. Cathcart but the daughter invited herself along as well. It was almost as if she were a chaperone.”

“I don’t think Myra Cathcart needs a chaperone.”

“Nor do I.”

“She has such amazing vitality.”

He beamed at her. “Do you think I hadn’t noticed that? It’s a shame she can’t spare any of it for Lilian. That daughter of hers could do with it.”

“Don’t underestimate Lilian,” said Genevieve. “She can be aroused by her passions. I was with her when the royal party came aboard. Lilian was a different person. She suddenly came alive and showed some of her mother’s exuberance.”

“I’m reassured to hear that.”

“Give her time, Mr. Dugdale. Her light may shine forth yet.”

“Unfortunately, my time is limited. In ten days’ time, we arrive in Port Said.”

“We’re stopping at Marseilles before that, to refuel.”

“If only we could bring more members of the royal family on board as well.”

“Why?”

“Didn’t you say that the monarchy was Lilian’s obsession? They’d be a useful diversion. That way, I might even get to speak to her mother alone.” His expression hardened. “Before he does, that is.”

“Who?”

“Karl-Jurgen Lenz. That brooding German. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice how hypnotized he was by Myra Cathcart. Quite rightly, of course,” he went on. “She’s a most striking lady. So open and so … unexpected.”

“In what way, Mr. Dugdale?”

“You only have to look at her to see that. She’s
genuine
, Miss Masefield. She’s not one of those gold-diggers who come on cruises like this in pursuit of a rich catch. Goodness!” he exclaimed. “She’d not have her daughter in tow, if she were. A real adventuress would never even admit to
having
a grown-up daughter. That’s why Myra Cathcart is so unusual. She attracts men without even trying.”

“It’s a problem many women have to cope with, I fear.”

He cackled. “That’s a fair comment! But you take my meaning.”

“I’m more intrigued by your opinion of Herr Lenz,” she said. “You’re the second person this morning who’s told me that he was unduly interested in Myra Cathcart. He was such a sullen dinner companion.”

“I sympathized with you for having to sit opposite him.”

“I felt rather sorry for him, Mr. Dugdale. He seemed so lonely.”

“Didn’t I look lonely as well?”

“No,” replied Genevieve. “You are such an accomplished traveler that you’d mix easily in any surroundings. That was the difference between the two of you. Herr Lenz stuck out like a sore thumb. You blended in perfectly.”

“I take that as a compliment.”

“It was intended as one, Mr. Dugdale.”

“There is, unfortunately, another difference between the two of us.”

“Is there?”

“Yes, Miss Masefield,” he explained. “Karl-Jurgen Lenz is going to Egypt and I’m not. That gives him an advantage. On the other hand,” he continued with a broad grin, “we still have ten days at sea. That gives
me
an advantage.”

Cackling to himself, he went up the stairs that led to the boat deck. Genevieve was glad he had spoken to her. She liked Walter Dugdale and was happy to be his confidante. What she expected
to happen between him and Myra Cathcart, she did not know, but she had no fears for the latter. Dugdale was kind, urbane, and intelligent. He would be a good friend to Myra and that would make her less reliant on Genevieve. The pleasant and easygoing man from Chicago was a much more appealing individual than the grim photographer from Germany. Genevieve refused to believe that Lenz had a serious interest in Myra Cathcart. He seemed too intense and self-absorbed.

Genevieve was struck by a sobering thought. Speculating on the curiosity that her friend had sparked off in two dinner companions had taken her mind completely off the subject of Nigel Wilmshurst. Perhaps he would not be the problem she had envisaged. As a married man, his attitude toward her would have undergone a profound change. Instead of fearing a confrontation, she simply had to ignore him. He did, after all, have reason enough to avoid her. Genevieve felt a sense of freedom again. It did not last.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” said Lilian Cathcart, swooping down on her with patent relief. “Can we go somewhere to talk?”

“What’s wrong with talking here, Miss Cathcart?”

“It’s not private enough. I need your advice, Miss Masefield.”

“Then let’s adjourn to the lounge,” suggested Genevieve, leading the way. “You look as if it’s something serious.”

“It is,” said Lilian, hard on her heels.

When they got to the first-class lounge, they found a quiet corner from which Genevieve could see without being seen. Lilian Cathcart was evidently upset, faced with a situation that was new and troubling. She launched into an explanation.

“I’m worried about Mother,” she began. “Something has happened to her.”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s changed. Mother is doing things that I find rather unseemly.”

“Showing an interest in a certain man?”

“It’s worse than that, Miss Masefield,” said Lilian, chewing a lip. “Mother has always been very friendly, but it’s gone beyond that stage now. She’s encouraging him. It’s so blatant. I blushed when I heard some of the things she said.”

“Perhaps you weren’t meant to hear them,” Genevieve said tactfully.

“I don’t follow.”

“Your mother is an adult. Like you, she can do whatever she chooses.”

“I’d never embarrass her in that way. It was hurtful.”

“I’m sure that Mrs. Cathcart didn’t mean it to be,” said Genevieve. “Besides, one of the pleasures of a voyage like this is to explore new friendships. That’s all your mother is doing. Have no worries about Mr. Dugdale. He strikes me as a thoroughly decent man in every way.”

Lilian’s face went blank. “It’s not Mr. Dugdale that I’m talking about,” she said.

“No?”

“It’s that German gentleman. Herr Lenz.”

Genevieve was taken aback. “
Really
?”

“He had the audacity to ask her right in front of me.”

“Ask her what, Miss Cathcart?”

“He wants to photograph Mother,” said Lilian, quivering with indignation. “He invited her to go to his cabin one day and—I just couldn’t believe this—Mother
agreed
.”

SIX

M
artin Grandage watched carefully through the window. Having warned both Dillman and Genevieve that the royal party was about to have its first public outing, the deputy purser made sure that he himself was on hand. A portion of the promenade deck was cleared so that the Duke and Duchess of Fife could emerge with their daughters into the light of day. Curiosity had brought a sizable crowd to view the newcomers but they saw little and heard even less. Standing at the rail, Fife was pointing to the French coastline and explaining something to his wife. The two girls were so glad to be out in the fresh air at last, they inhaled it with the relish of liberated prisoners. Since they were all wearing large hats and long overcoats, the royal party looked very much like any of the other first-class passengers aboard, except that their bearing was decidedly more formal.

“The novelty will soon wear off,” said Grandage, glancing at the onlookers. “Some of these people don’t even have cabins on this deck. As soon as they heard that royalty was showing its face, they
came flocking. After a few days, interest will flag; everyone will be so used to having the Duke and Duchess aboard, they’ll take little notice of them.”

“I’m sure the royal party will be grateful,” observed Dillman, standing beside him. “At the moment, they must feel as if they’re in a cage at the zoo. Look at the faces in the crowd. Somebody will start throwing buns in a moment.”

Grandage laughed. “No feeding the animals!”

“How often are they likely to come out on deck?”

“Twice a day, at least, Mr. Dillman. I had a word with one of their aides. They’ll be out for half an hour or so every morning and afternoon. When we get farther south, of course, and the weather is much warmer, we’ll see even more of them.”

“So there’ll be a set routine?”

“That’s the idea. Makes things easier for us.”

“Who’s that fellow in a bowler hat?” asked Dillman, indicating a thickset man on the far side of the royal party. “Is he with them?”

“Yes,” replied Grandage. “That’s Mr. Jellings. I’m not certain what his official title is but his job obviously includes keeping an eye on them. He’s there to prevent anyone lunging forward to ask for autographs.”

“What if someone wants more than an autograph?”

“That’s when you and Miss Masefield take over.”

“Let’s hope it’s not necessary,” said Dillman. “I suggest that we split up now. We don’t want to be seen together too often in public.”

“Not that anyone is looking at us when they’ve got a Duke and Duchess to stare at. But it’s a wise precaution,” agreed Grandage. “Excuse me.”

He moved away and left Dillman to step out on deck and merge with the crowd. As time passed, feeling they had seen enough, some of the spectators drifted slowly away. One of them recognized Dillman and came over to him.

“Hello there,” said Morton Goss. “What do you think of the performance?”

“Is that what it is?”

“You were an actor, Mr. Dillman. You should know. We’re the audience and they’re the members of the cast, going through a well-rehearsed domestic drama.”

“All I can see are four people enjoying a breath of fresh air.”

“But not in the relaxed way that you or I might do so. They’re on duty. They’re conscious of being watched. They have to play their parts.”

“I take it that you’re not too impressed,” said Dillman.

“I was, for a short while,” Goss told him. “My wife and daughter are engrossed. They’ll stay in the front row until the whole family disappears. I’ve got more important things to do than stand out here in the cold. Work calls, Mr. Dillman.”

“Work? On a pleasure cruise like this?”

“I’m not just returning the items to the museum, you see. I have to give a series of lectures while I’m there. They take time to prepare.”

“What are you talking on, Mr. Goss?”

“Oh, the dynasty that obsesses me.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “I don’t mean the one to which these folk belong. No, Rameses XI is my hero. Sometimes known as Ozymandias.”

“Ozymandias, ‘king of kings’? The one in Shelley’s poem?”

“That’s the guy,” said Goss, “though I think Shelley was a bit unkind to him. His architectural achievements were breathtaking. Rameses XI excavated the rock temples at Abu Simbel, completed the magnificent great hall of Karnak, built the temple at Abydos, and added the first court and pylon at Luxor. Unfortunately, he picked a quarrel with the Hittites and the long war left Egypt impoverished, or there would have been even more astounding monuments in his reign.”

“When did Rameses XI rule?”

“From 1304 to 1237
B.C.
Yet some of his work is still standing.”

“I can’t see any modern architecture surviving for that length of time.”

“It doesn’t
deserve
to, Mr. Dillman.”

“Didn’t you say you had some relics from the dynasty of Rameses?”

“Yes, but that’s Rameses I. He only reigned for two years. Still, I’ve got one of two items from his brief period in power. They’re among the things I keep in my cabin. If you’re interested, I’d be happy to show them to you.”

“I’d appreciate that, Mr. Goss.”

“Sometime this afternoon, perhaps?”

“Early evening,” Dillman suggested, wanting to be back on deck for the second outing of the royal party. “If that’s convenient for you. Half an hour before dinner?”

“That’s fine with me.”

Goss patted him on the shoulder before moving away. Dillman was grateful for the invitation. He was interested to see the relics and even more curious to see where they were kept, hoping that he might be able to persuade Morton Goss to have them put in the safe with the larger objects. Even when he was chatting with the Egyptologist, his gaze had not left the royal party for long. Someone else now joined them, clearly enjoying the privileged position that allowed him to converse with the Duke and Duchess. It was Brian Kilhendry and he seemed to be putting some sort of request to them. Dillman wondered why he was doing so in public rather than in the privacy of the royal cabin.

Though she had nothing to report, Genevieve Masefield paid a courtesy visit to the old lady to assure her that the investigation was continuing. Mrs. Prendergast was as tearful as ever. After a sleepless night, she had been unable to eat any breakfast and was
now too afraid to stir from her cabin in case someone else might break in. Genevieve did her best to give the other woman some peace of mind but it was difficult.

“No thief would be foolish enough to strike twice in the same place,” she said. “He took all that he wanted from here, Mrs. Prendergast. You’re quite safe.”

“I don’t feel it, Miss Masefield.”

“Try to overcome your fears. Get out and meet people.”

“I’m wary of doing that after what you told me,” said Mrs. Prendergast. “I was shocked at the thought that the thief might be one of the passengers I’d talked to earlier.”

“Well, I can reassure you on that point. I’ve spoken to all the people whose names you gave me and they each have an alibi. None of them was the culprit, I’m sure.”

“Then who was? One of the staff?”

“That’s highly unlikely,” decided Genevieve. “P and O is very careful whom they employ. As it happens, I checked on the stewardess who looks after your cabin and she was with the chief steward at the time when the theft took place. No, Mrs. Prendergast,” she said, “I think we’re looking for a professional thief. Someone who knows what he wants and where to get it.”

“Does that mean he has another victim in view?”

“Probably.”

“Then I feel sorry for them. It’s a hideous experience.”

“You have to get over it,” Genevieve said softly. “I know it was distressing but it’s wrong to let something like this spoil the whole voyage. Luncheon will be served in half an hour. Make sure you get a good meal inside you.”

“I will, Miss Masefield. Thank you for your help.”

“You know where to find me, if you need me. As long as you remember what I told you yesterday. Don’t mention my involvement in this case to anyone. A ship’s detective can work far more effectively if he or she is completely anonymous.”

“I understand.” Mrs. Prendergast followed her to the door. “Is there any hope at all that you’ll recover the jewelry that was taken?”

“We’ll get it back for you,” said Genevieve. “Eventually.”

She let herself out and made her way back to her own cabin, wishing it was not on the same deck as the one belonging to Nigel Wilmshurst and his wife. He was, however, nowhere to be seen. Genevieve went swiftly into the cabin and gratefully closed the door behind her. A minute later, she was opening it again in response to a rapping on the woodwork. Myra Cathcart stepped into the cabin, her face glowing.

“I’m so glad that I’ve caught you before luncheon,” she said.

“Why?”

“I thought you ought to be aware of a rather amusing situation.” Myra gave a laugh of disbelief. “I wouldn’t have thought it possible. I mean, I only met the two of them over dinner last night. It’s not as if I’m in the first full flush of youth.”

“You have admirers,” said Genevieve. “Mr. Dugdale and Herr Lenz.”

“How did you know?”

“I sat opposite them, remember?”

“Was it as obvious as that?”

“Well, it was easy to see that Mr. Dugdale found you enchanting. I wasn’t so sure about Herr Lenz. He seemed very preoccupied. But he did keeping glancing at you.”

“He told me that I had the perfect face for his camera,” explained Myra. “He wants to photograph me and, before I knew what I was saying, I agreed that he could. Now, of course, I’m having second thoughts.”

“Don’t you like him?”

“In a way, Miss Masefield. I just find him rather earnest.”

“What about Mr. Dugdale?”

“Oh, he’s charming. Walter—he insists I call him that—is a real
gentleman. And I do like the fact that he’s from Chicago. I don’t know why, but I’ve always had a soft spot for Americans. They always seem so much more cosmopolitan than we do.”

“Mr. Dugdale is certainly cosmopolitan,” said Genevieve.

“When I listen to him, I feel like a real stay-at-home. Walter’s been
everywhere
. That’s why I find it so hard to believe he’s taken such an interest in me.”

Genevieve smiled. “Does it worry you?”

“Not in the least. I’m very flattered.” Myra frowned slightly. “It’s Herr Lenz’s interest that unsettles me a little. When I look in Walter’s eyes, I know exactly what he’s thinking. Herr Lenz is more enigmatic.” Myra grinned. “It’s ridiculous, isn’t it? I came on this cruise because I’d always wanted to see Egypt. In the back of my mind, I suppose, I did hope that Lilian might find it stimulating, perhaps even meet a young man who could pay her some attention. Instead,
I’m
the one who’s attracted the attention. It’s taken me completely by surprise, Miss Masefield.”

“I’m not surprised. You’re a very handsome woman.”

“Thank you. That’s what Walter told me. I had the feeling he’d tell me a lot more but, unfortunately, Lilian was there at the time. She thinks I’m being scandalous.”

“Have you tried to discuss it with her?”

“There’s no point. My daughter is very old-fashioned. It’s one of the reasons she’s never managed to have a proper friendship with a man, let alone a romance. Lilian still sees me as a wife and mother. She feels that I’m betraying my husband.”

“You’re entitled to a life of your own, Mrs. Cathcart.”

“How can I do that when I have Lilian at my elbow all the time?”

“Tell her that you need a little more freedom.”

“I’ve tried,” Myra said sadly, “but she only accuses me of deserting her. Lilian has so little self-confidence. That’s why she rarely strays away from me. Look,” she continued, putting a gentle hand
on Genevieve’s arm, “I don’t suppose that I could ask a favor of you, could I?”

“What sort of favor, Mrs. Cathcart?”

“Oh, do please call me Myra. We’ve surely got to that point now.”

“Very well,” said Genevieve. “How can I help you, Myra?”

“I feel so dreadful even asking you this,” said the older woman, turning away. “It’s almost as if I want you to conspire with me against my own daughter. But it’s for Lilian’s good as much as my own.” She faced Genevieve again. “She’ll be spared so much embarrassment. I hate to see her writhing with discomfort like that.”

“Where do I come in?” asked Genevieve.

“As a distraction. I need someone to occupy Lilian for a while.”

“Won’t she realize she’s being kept deliberately out of the way?”

“Not if it’s you, Genevieve,” said Myra. “I may call you that, mayn’t I?”

Genevieve nodded.

“She thinks the world of you. I know how desperate she is to show you her scrapbook devoted to the royal family. And there are lots of other ways you could divert her without arousing her suspicions.” She pursed her lips in dismay. “Heavens! This must sound so awful. Do you think I’m being a dreadful mother?”

“No, Myra. I think that you’re taking practical steps to enjoy this voyage.”

“Does that mean you’ll help me?”

“Well,” said Genevieve, “I hate the idea of deceiving your daughter like this. At her age, she ought to be able to cope with the fact that it’s only natural for her mother to attract admirers. With your permission, I’d like to put that to her.”

“Of course.”

“If I can persuade her to give you more elbow room, there won’t be any need to lure her away under false pretenses. All of us would benefit, then. I’d prefer it that way.”

“So would I, Genevieve,” said Myra, nodding with enthusiasm. “Knowing my daughter, it will be an uphill task. But if anyone can bring Lilian round, it’s you.”

Dillman had underestimated Morton Goss. When he called on the latter that evening, he discovered the academic did not, after all, take a cavalier attitude toward the safety of his property. The relics from ancient Egypt that had been entrusted to him were kept in a strongbox that had no less than three heavy padlocks on it. Dillman was impressed. He was also touched by the care with which Goss handled the exhibits. After unlocking the box, the Egyptologist extracted each item as if it were very delicate, peeling off the cotton wool in which it nestled before placing it gently on the table.