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Authors: Conrad Allen

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“The murder weapon.”

“It was self-defense, Genevieve. I swear it.”

“Then why didn't you report it at once?”

“I was too confused. Heavens!” she said. “I only went there to return his cigarette case, and Mr. Nevin suddenly jumped on me. Don't you understand—he tried to rape me. I just grabbed the knife and lashed out wildly. I didn't
mean
to kill him. I just wanted to get away. When I saw what I'd done, I was absolutely horrified. I threw the knife away and ran straight back here.”

“Didn't you do something else before you left?” asked Genevieve.

“No—I was in a complete panic.”

“So you didn't take any money from his billfold?”

“Of course not.”

“His watch was also missing,” remembered Genevieve. “If you're innocent of any theft, I'm sure you won't mind us searching for the
watch.” Tabitha spread an arm to show that she could look anywhere in the cabin. “That means it's not here or you wouldn't be so confident. In that case,” Genevieve decided, working it out as she talked, “there's only one place it can be, isn't there?”

“And where's that?”

“Concealed in your mother's Bath chair. Yes, I daresay that we may find Mr. Ackroyd's ear trumpet and all your other trophies in there, as well. No wonder it felt so heavy when I pushed it.”

Tabitha's manner changed. She grabbed Genevieve's arm.

“Nobody needs to know about this,” she insisted.

“Yes, they do.”

“Mr. Nevin was a silly man. Who cares if he's dead?”

“I do, Tabby.”

“How much do they pay you to do your job?”

“Don't try to offer me a bribe.”

“It's a friendly gift,” said the other with a persuasive smile. “After all, we like each other. We get on so well. Think of it, Genevieve,” she purred. “I'll give you more than you can earn in a year if you forget that you've seen this dress.”

“No, Tabby.”

“Two years—three, if you like. We can afford it.”

“I'm not for sale,” said Genevieve with disgust.

Tabitha gave in. She shrugged her shoulders and walked toward the wardrobe, as if about to hang up the dress again. Instead, however, she suddenly wheeled round and flung it in the other woman's face. By the time that Genevieve had disentangled herself, she felt a sharp blow at the base of her skull and sank to her knees. Holding her mother's walking stick, Tabitha stood over her. Dazed and in pain, Genevieve put both hands to her head, furious with herself for being caught off guard.

There was a tap on the door. Tabitha grabbed her by the hair.

“Say one word,” she whispered, “and I'll knock your brains out.”

It was no idle threat. Tabitha had nothing to lose. Having committed one murder, she would have no compunction about killing someone else if it helped to save her.

The second tap on the door was accompanied by a voice.

“I know that you're in there, Miss Simcoe,” said Dillman. “I've just spoken to your mother. She sent you to fetch some cards so that you could play bridge in the lounge.” The door was banged. “Miss Simcoe!”

Genevieve felt that she had to do something. Her head was still pounding but at least she had gathered her wits. As Tabitha stood over her with the walking stick, Genevieve launched herself upward as hard as she could and struck the other woman in the stomach. Tabitha let out a cry of anger. Hauling herself to her feet, Genevieve managed to dodge a blow from the stick and grab Tabitha's wrist. It was only a temporary solution. Genevieve was in a weakened state. Enraged by the resistance, Tabitha was by far the stronger of the two.

Flinging Genevieve to the floor again, she was about to move in for the kill when the door burst open and Dillman came charging in. He took in the situation instantly. Tabitha tried to strike at him, but he caught the stick in midair and twisted it out of her hand by sheer force. She backed away from him.

Genevieve was not finished. Wanting to make her contribution to the arrest, she thrust out a foot and tripped Tabitha up. Dillman overpowered the woman at once. He had brought reinforcements with him. On his instructions, two members of the crew hauled Tabitha unceremoniously out of the cabin.

Dillman bent over Genevieve, cradling her in his arms.

“Why didn't you wait for me?” he asked.

“I thought that I could do it on my own, George.”

“And now?”

“I should have remembered what Mr. Rollins told us.”

“And what was that?”

“That women can be every bit as ruthless as men.”

Max Cannadine could not stop thanking them. At a time when he was beginning to wonder if the crimes would ever be solved, George Dillman and Genevieve Masefield had found the thief and apprehended the killer. They had even exposed Constance Simcoe as the confidence trickster and cardsharp that she was. With the mother and daughter now behind bars, the
Salsette
felt a much cleaner and safer vessel.

“The captain sends his compliments,” said the purser.

“What about the second officer?” asked Dillman with amusement.

“I'll need to have a quiet word with him. We'd all like to have the arrangement with Madame Roussel that he has, but it's not permitted. I'll remind him of that and point out that he still has a wife back in England.” He pulled a face. “I do so hate to be a figure of moral authority, but someone has to draw the line.”

“What about Madame Roussel?” said Genevieve.

“I don't think she'll lack company for long somehow.”

“At least you won't have her traveling to and fro with you.”

“Love on the Arabian Sea—a tempting prospect, isn't it?”

“Not when you have work to do, Mr. Cannadine.”

“No, Miss Masefield,” he said. “I have to agree. By the way, how's that head of yours now?”

“Just about staying on my shoulders.”

“You must have taken a fearful crack.”

“Oh, I did,” agreed Genevieve, feeling the bump at the base of her skull. “Fortunately, it didn't break the skin. I'll just have to endure having this egg on the back of my head.”

“Tabitha Simcoe was a powerful woman,” said Dillman.

“Yes, George. If I pushed that Bath chair around as much as she did, I'd have muscles like that, as well. It's really heavy.”

“Only because it was packed with all those things they'd won, stolen, or tricked out of people. Dudley Nevin's watch was one of three in the collection. When I opened up the box underneath that chair, it was like looking into Aladdin's cave.”

“Everything but a magic lamp,” said the purser.

“It was a profitable ruse,” Dillman pointed it. “Mrs. Simcoe's husband was the real invalid, and she used to be jealous at the amount of sympathy and attention he used to get. So she decided to trade on a fake disability herself. It worked well. Who would suspect an invalid of being ready to fleece you at cards?”

“Yet the Ackroyds beat them on one occasion,” observed Genevieve.

“That's why they had to be reeled in for another game. On that occasion, of course,” he said, “Mr. Ackroyd was handicapped because they'd stolen his ear trumpet. That was under the Bath chair, as well.”

“Why did she do it?” wondered the purser.

“Mrs. Simcoe?”

“No, Mr. Dillman—the daughter. I mean, why did she go to Nevin's cabin in the first place?”

“Well, it wasn't to return a cigarette case,” said Dillman, “I can tell you that. Apart from the fact that we never found it in their treasure trove, I know for a fact that Dudley Nevin didn't smoke. That's why the major and I had a brandy with him in the lounge on the first night, not in the smoking room.”

“Tabby was after his money,” explained Genevieve. “She admitted as much when the master-at-arms locked her up. Mr. Nevin was carrying a substantial amount, as she saw when he opened his billfold during the game of bridge.”

Cannadine was puzzled. “She went to his cabin to steal it?”

“There are other ways a woman can charm money out of a man.”

“Other than by marriage, you mean?” said the purser, smiling.

“After realizing that Sylvester Greenwood was onboard, Mr. Nevin was frightened and depressed. Tabby could see how vulnerable he was. She went there to offer a show of sympathy, and perhaps something more.” Genevieve sighed. “She's certainly not the plaster saint that she pretended to be. George discovered that.”

“Yes,” said Dillman. “She gave me the sort of knowing look that I wouldn't get in a convent. Tabitha Simcoe is a woman of the world in every sense. I fancy that Dudley Nevin wouldn't have been the first man to pay for the pleasure of her company.”

“But things got out of hand,” continued Genevieve. “That much of her story, I do believe. I think that she led him on too far. Nevin started to molest her and she resisted. The
kukri
was on the table with various other presents he was taking to his cousin in Aden.”

“In other words,” added Dillman, “it wasn't premeditated. That, at least, will count in her favor. She'll face a charge of manslaughter. Of course, she'll still have to explain why she stole his money and his watch, and failed to report the incident.”

“It's so unsettling, isn't it?” mused Cannadine.

“What is?”

“All these crimes have been committed by females. You're supposed to be the fairer sex, Miss Masefield. What's happening to you?”

“Don't condemn the many for the faults of the few,” she said.

“Well, it does make me worry.”

“The irony is,” said Dillman, “that the one woman whom we did suspect of a crime turned out to be innocent.”

“Innocence is not a word I'd associate with Madame Roussel.”

“You'll have to take that up with the second officer. Well,” he
added, rising from his chair, “I think that we're finished for the night.”

“Yes, time for me to turn in, as well—now that I've had the satisfaction of returning the three purses to their owners, and locking the jewelry away in my safe. What a day!”

“It has been rather eventful, hasn't it?” agreed Genevieve.

“Yes, Miss Masefield. We started off with a daunting crime sheet, yet you've wiped it clean.” He shook hands with each of them in turn. “My heartiest congratulations—and thanks.”

“While you're in a thankful mood,” said Dillman, remembering his promise to Morelli, “may I draw your attention to the work that a certain Italian in second class did for us?”

“I'll speak to the chief steward tomorrow,” said Cannadine. “After what you've told me, Paulo belongs in first class.”

“Thank you. He was only demoted because he did what nobody else had done. He dared to look at Tabitha Simcoe as a flesh and blood woman, while she was presenting a very different face to the rest of us.”

“She took me in completely,” admitted Genevieve.

Dillman grinned. “I think it's fair to say that you did the same to her,” he remarked. “What must she have thought when she found you searching her cabin?”

“I don't think she mistook me for a new stewardess.”

“It must have been a terrible shock for her.”

“It was a terrible shock for me, George,” she said. “I thought she was safely out of the way in the lounge. When she came in through that door, my heart missed a beat.”

“You recovered very well,” said Cannadine. “It's been a pleasure to watch you both at work. I do hope our paths cross again sometime.”

“So do we.”

“But next time,” suggested Dillman, “we'd be grateful if you
could persuade your female passengers to behave themselves a little better.”

In the course of her voyage, the
Salsette
had passed a number of other ships, but when she reached the Gulf of Aden she joined a procession of vessels that were heading for the port. The sight of land brought most of the passengers up on deck. Lois Greenwood was one of them. She was chatting to Guljar Singh when George Dillman strolled over to them.

“Whatever did you say to Daddy last night?” she asked.

“Very little,” replied Dillman.

“You must have said something because he's changed his opinion of you completely. He told me that you were a good man, and that he was wrong to forbid me to talk to you.”

“That's nice to hear.”

“So I struck while the iron was hot.”

“In what way, Miss Greenwood?”

“It's not often that Daddy is in such a pleasant mood,” she said, “so I decided to speak my mind for once. I told him that it was unfair of him to confiscate my roller skates and to treat me like a child, when I'm old enough to have a child myself.” She giggled. “That really made him listen. He thought for a moment that I was going to tell him that he was about to be a grandfather.”

“I can see why he'd be upset,” observed Guljar Singh.

“All that I wanted was my rights,” said Lois, “and I spelled them out. Daddy is not the only person in the family who can make speeches, you know. The amazing thing is that it
worked
. He was so surprised that I'd answered him back for once that he admitted he'd been too harsh on me and promised to give me more leeway in the future.” She giggled again. “I felt so proud of myself for standing up to him.”

“There you are,” said Singh, chuckling quietly. “I told you that
you would do something on this ship that would make you proud.”

“And I did—thanks to Mr. Dillman.”

“I only chatted to your father for a while,” said Dillman.

“You softened him up for me. He's almost human this morning.”

On impulse, she reached up to put her hands around Dillman's neck before kissing him on the cheek. Surprised at her own boldness, she blushed slightly, gave a nervous laugh, and skipped off along the deck. Guljar Singh was amused.

BOOK: Murder on the Salsette
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