Murder on the Salsette (12 page)

“In what sense?”

“Parliamentary candidates don't necessarily meet each other during the contest. They and their supporters canvass independently. The only time they do come face-to-face is when the count is made and the returning officer declares the results.”

“Mr. Greenwood deliberately tried to mislead me,” asserted Dillman, “and I want to know why. He knew perfectly well who Dudley Nevin was yet he pretended even to have forgotten his name.”

“I wouldn't forget the name of someone
I
beat in a by-election.”

“Neither would I, Mr. Cannadine.”

“The rivalry between them sounds as if it was more than political.”

“It was deeply personal,” said Dillman. “It was only after I left him that I realized Mr. Greenwood had given himself away.”

“Oh?”

“He told me that he'd only met Mr. Nevin once. I asked him when.”

“And?”

“He suggested that I ask Mr. Nevin himself. Don't you see?” he went on. “If I'd done that—and if Nevin had been alive—I might have learned the truth. Sylvester Greenwood must have known that I couldn't speak to him because Nevin was dead.”

“That's clever reasoning, Mr. Dillman.”

Besieged as he was by other duties, Cannadine had made time for a chat in his office with the detective. He was pleased with what he saw as the first sign of progress. Like Genevieve, however, he found it difficult to believe that Sylvester Greenwood had actually committed the murder, even though there were possible indications of his involvement in the crime.

“What he couldn't know was that this Mr. Sinclair was aboard.”

“That was a stroke of fortune,” said Dillman. “Were he still here, I'm not convinced that Mr. Nevin
would
have told me about his relationship with Mr. Greenwood. He denied even knowing him.”

“His old classics master put paid to that lie.”

“And he taught me some Latin into the bargain.”

“What sort of M.P. would Dudley Nevin have made, do you think?”

“Not a very good one, I suspect,” decided Dillman. “Having met them both, I have to say I'd have more faith in Sylvester Greenwood. He has more presence and is a much better speaker. Now that I know he's a liar, of course—and may even be a party to murder—I don't think he'd get my vote, even if I had one.”

“Politicians are all one to me,” declared Cannadine.

“Untrustworthy?”

“That's a kind word for it.”

“Their reputation in America is not much better.”

“I can imagine. Returning to Greenwood, what's the next stage?”

“I dig a little deeper, Mr. Cannadine. His daughter, Lois, is a friend of mine, so I'm going to talk to her about her father.”

“Won't Greenwood mind?”

“With luck, he won't know about it,” said Dillman. “I'll talk to Lois in a place where she's not supposed to be.”

“And where's that?”

“Skating around the deck last thing at night.”

The purser laughed. “She sounds like an adventurous young lady.”

“Oh, she is. Lois plays football on roller skates, apparently.”

“What is the weaker sex coming to!”

“Getting stronger all the time,” said Dillman with a grin. “More power to their elbow. Well,” he added, rising from his chair, “I'll get back to it. Now that Genevieve has her hands full with the thefts, I'm on my own. I gather that there's been a third incident.”

“You've spoken to Miss Masefield?”

“No, but I saw her across the dining saloon earlier on.”

“How do you communicate—by semaphore?”

“We have our own system of signals, Mr. Cannadine. That's why we always sit where we can see each other. I don't know the details, of course, but Genevieve made one thing very clear to me. She's dealing with another crime.”

When luncheon was over, Genevieve accompanied May Verney to the place on the main deck where the latter's purse had been stolen. Cursing herself for having fallen asleep, Mrs. Verney pointed to her deck chair.

“That's where I was sitting,” she said. “In the shade.”

“Reading a novel?”

“Yes. It was
Moths
by Ouida. I love her books.”

“And where was the Sikh gentleman standing?”

“Just here,” said Mrs. Verney, taking up a position. “He couldn't help but notice when I dozed off.”

“That gives me something to work on.”

“Mr. Cannadine told me there was another theft on deck.”

“Yes,” said Genevieve. “That was an opportunist's crime, as well. So was the first theft, as a matter of fact. It was from a cabin whose door had been left unlocked.”

“Was the same person responsible for all three crimes?”

“I think so. In each case, a woman was the target.”

“What does that tell you?”

“That the thief is careful not to steal from men. If they catch him in the act, they're likely to take him on. Most women wouldn't do that. Also, of course, we do tend to have more valuables with us than men—jewelry, keepsakes, and so on. A thief stands to gain more from preying on female passengers.”

“Especially if we're stupid enough to leave our purse unguarded, as I did,” Mrs. Verney said bitterly. “No man would leave his billfold on a deck chair while he took a nap. Oh, I had such a nasty shock when I woke up, Miss Masefield.”

Genevieve was sympathetic. “It must have been dreadful for you.”

“It was. I don't mind about the money—there wasn't a great deal in my purse. It's the photographs and the other items. Be honest with me. What are the chances of getting them back?”

“They're rather slim, I'm afraid.”

“Why?”

“Most thieves would simply take the money and throw the purse overboard. That way they destroy evidence that could lead to their arrest.”

“So I might as well give up hope?” the other said gloomily.

“Never do that, Mrs. Verney. We could be lucky.”

“My husband was so angry with me.”

“He had no right to be,” said Genevieve. “The vast majority of passengers are very honest. They wouldn't dream of stealing anything. Nine times out of ten, you could sleep for an hour and find your purse untouched beside you.”

“I won't put that to the test, if you don't mind.”

“Once bitten?”

“Quite, Miss Masefield.”

“The next thing I need to see is this man who was standing so close to you,” said Genevieve. “Point him out if you will, please.”

“I don't see him on this side of the ship,” said Mrs. Verney, gazing up and down the deck. “Shall we go round to the port side?”

“Yes, but let's do it as if we're having an afternoon stroll. We don't want to look as if we're searching for someone. If you do spot him, just nudge my arm.”

“Very well.”

They walked the length of the starboard side until they reached the stern, then made their way at a leisurely pace up the other side of the deck. Almost immediately, Mrs. Verney saw the man they were after and she gave Genevieve a nudge. Sitting cross-legged on the deck, staring ahead of him, was Guljar Singh. Two Indians stood patiently beside him. When he emerged from his trance, he held out his hand and one of the men slipped a coin into his palm. Guljar Singh spoke to him at length, using both hands expressively. Pleased with what he heard, the man pressed a second coin into his palm and went off happily with his friend.

Having seen it all, Genevieve and her companion walked on past. May Verney waited until they were out of earshot before she spoke.

“That was him,” she said. “I'm certain he was the thief.”

Even in second class, dinner was a formal occasion and Lois Greenwood enjoyed dressing up for it. When she was ready that
evening, she studied herself in the full-length mirror, made a final adjustment to her shoulder strap, then swept out of the cabin in her pink satin gown. As soon as she knocked on the door of the adjoining cabin, her father let her in. He and his wife were both delighted with her appearance. Daphne Greenwood, a thin, handsome, dark-haired woman, was wearing a tomato-colored frock of Liberty velveteen and Indian muslin, with an elaborate lace fichu.

“Mummy!” said Lois. “You look wonderful!”

“That's what I've been trying to tell her,” said Greenwood.

His wife was dubious. “I'm wondering if it's more suitable for a younger woman,” she said, turning to the mirror again. “I'm not sure that it's altogether right.”

“Of course, it is, Daphne.”

“Yes,” Lois cried enthusiastically. “It makes you look almost regal.”

“I don't want people staring at me,” her mother said nervously.

“They'll look at you, whatever you wear,” said Greenwood with a touch of gallantry. “You'll be the most attractive woman in the room.”

“What about me?” protested Lois.

“You'll have to take second place to your mother this evening.”

“As long as I can have that frock when Mummy's finished with it.”

“Of course, darling,” said Mrs. Greenwood.

Lois put a hand to her stomach. “I'm starving. Shall we go?”

“In a moment,” replied her father. “I just want to remind you about what I said earlier. We'll be on show in the dining saloon. Good behavior is paramount. I don't want anyone to think that my daughter hasn't been brought up properly. Remember my position, Lois.”

“Oh, Daddy,” she said wearily, “you're always chastising me
about that. Ever since you became an M.P., you've been obsessed with keeping up appearances.”

“Only because it's important. I'm a public figure now.”

“In England, maybe—not in the middle of the Arabian Sea. By the way,” she went on excitedly, “I asked Mr. Dillman about that. He's a sailor. According to him, we
are
crossing the Arabian Sea, so I was right about that. Except that it's part of the Indian Ocean, of course.”

“Never mind that, Lois. Do as I told you. I don't want you speaking so freely to the Mr. Dillmans of this world.”

“But he's such good company.”

“Listen to your father, dear,” advised Mrs. Greenwood.

“He's far and away the nicest person I've met on this ship.”

“That's irrelevant,” said her father, straightening his white bow tie and brushing some dust from his lapel. “The fact is that you went up to a total stranger and engaged him in conversation. That's not the way things are done, Lois.”

“I'd never have got to meet him otherwise.”

“What must he have thought of you?” asked her mother anxiously. “A young woman, approaching him in that brazen way. When I was your age, I wouldn't have dared to do such a thing.”

“You might if you'd met someone as good-looking as Mr. Dillman.”

“Lois!”

“Wait until you see him, Mummy.”

“I've no wish to see him.”

“Neither have I,” decreed Greenwood. “He does not belong to our circle and he never will. I suggest that you forget about Mr. Dillman.”

“It's because he's American, isn't it?” challenged Lois.

“What do you mean?”

“If he was English, and lived in your constituency, it would be
a very different matter. Mr. Dillman would be able to vote for you then. You'd be as nice as pie to him, Daddy. You'd go out of your way to get to know him.”

“That's not true at all.”

“And very naughty of you even to suggest it,” said Mrs. Greenwood with uncharacteristic sharpness. “I won't have you being so disrespectful to your father, Lois. Apologize at once.”

“You're both being so unfair to Mr. Dillman.”

“Apologize.”

“Do I have to?”

“Unless you'd prefer to eat your dinner in your cabin.”

“Mummy, that would be cruel!” cried Lois. She turned a penitent face to her father. “I'm sorry, Daddy. It was very rude of me. I didn't mean that about chasing his vote.”

“Then let's hear no more of it,” he said peremptorily. “We'll draw a line under the whole business and go into the dining saloon as a family. Do you understand, Lois? What you do reflects on your parents.” He crossed to open the door. “Don't you ever forget that.”

Since his only suspect was traveling in second class, George Dillman went to the other dining saloon that evening, arriving early so that he could choose a seat from which he could command a view of the whole room. Sitting opposite him, Guljar Singh was pleased to see his friend again.

“Are you enjoying this stage of your journey?” he asked.

“Very much,” replied Dillman.

“Where do you go next?”

“Back to England, Mr. Singh.”

“Then home to America, I think.”

“Everywhere is home to a sailor,” said Dillman. “What about you?”

“I am going to Aden to see my son. He works there. When I have spent some time with his family, I must go back to Bombay. There is too much work for me to do.”

“At your age? I thought that you'd retired.”

“Mystics never retire, my friend. We are at the mercy of our gifts.”

“Those gifts have certainly found an audience on the
Salsette
,” noted Dillman. “Whenever I've seen you on deck, you have a small audience around you.”

“Everyone likes to have their fortune told.”

“I prefer not to know what lies ahead.”

“Then how can you prepare for bad things?” asked Singh. “What is that saying the English have?”

“Forewarned is forearmed.”

“I use my powers to forewarn people.”

“But you pass on good news to them, as well, don't you?” said Dillman, remembering Lois Greenwood. “Your prophecies are not always laden with doom.”

The old man shook his head. “No, no,” he said. “Sometimes I bring happy tidings. This afternoon, I was able to tell a man that his wife would soon bear them a lovely daughter. He was so pleased that he gave me another rupee.”