Free Murder on the Caronia by Conrad Allen

until Paul Taggart had finished calming down an irate passenger. When the door finally opened, a large, stone-faced, middle-aged American woman in a tweed suit and a feathered hat came bursting out and waddled off down the corridor. Dillman went into the cabin.
    “Who was that?” he asked.
    “Mrs. Anstruther,” sighed Taggart. “She’s only been on board the
Caronia
for a day and she’s already notched up five complaints. If she keeps up that rate, I’ll need the patience of Job to survive this voyage.”
    “Were the complaints serious?”
    “They were to her, Mr. Dillman, and that’s all she’s concerned about. First of all, she wanted to be moved to another cabin because she didn’t like the color of her carpet. Then she took against her stewardess. Last night, she had a toothache and blamed it on the chef. This morning,” he continued in a tone of disbelief, “she ordered me to speak to the captain because the ship was rolling too much. What does she
expect
when we’re in the Atlantic?” he wailed. “It has waves. But the latest complaint was the best yet.”
    “Did she want you to turn the vessel around and take her back to New York?”
    “If only I could! No, she’d just come steaming out of the restaurant because, she claims, the man sitting opposite was looking at her.”
    “He didn’t have much choice,” said Dillman.
    “According to her, he was staring in a meaningful way. As if he had designs on her. Can you believe it?” said Taggart. “Look at the woman. She’s a positive Gorgon.”
    “Is there a
Mr
. Anstruther?”
    “There was, it seems. ‘If my dear Wilbur were still here …’ she kept saying, as if he’d have waved a magic wand and solved all her problems. My guess is that Wilbur took to his heels and ran away years ago.”
    “What action did you promise to take over this latest complaint?”
    “I said that I’d look into it,” Taggart said wearily. “Which means, I fear, that I’ll have to ask you to have a discreet word with a Mostyn Morris. His cabin number will be on that list I gave you. Mrs. Anstruther described him as having all the attributes of a Welsh mountain goat.”
    “You won’t see many of those traveling first-class on the
Caronia
.’ ”
    “We won’t see any, Mr. Dillman. She’s simply having fantasies.”
    “I’ll advise the gentleman to sit elsewhere next time.”
    Paul Taggart had more work for him. A passenger in second class had had his wallet taken in the lounge and a woman had reported hearing strange noises from inside a locked storeroom. The purser also told him about the case he had assigned to Genevieve Masefield at the start of the day.
    “Why didn’t the lady put all her jewelry in your safe?” asked Dillman.
    “That’s exactly what I said to her. Mrs. Robart struck me as being a trifle scatterbrained. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if she put those earrings down somewhere and simply can’t find them.”
    “It seems unlikely that anyone got into her cabin to steal them. No thief would make off with a pair of gold earrings when there must have been other valuables he could take as well.”
    “That thought crossed my mind,” admitted Taggart.
    There was a sharp knock on the door and Inspector Redfern let himself in. When he saw Dillman, he backed out again.
    “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t realize you were busy.”
    “Come in, Inspector,” urged Dillman. “I was just leaving.”
    Redfern paused in the doorway. “In that case …”
    “Any progress?”
    “I think so, Mr. Dillman,” he said. “I can’t claim they’ve owned up to the crime in so many words, but their manner has convinced me beyond any doubt that they are guilty of the crime.”
    “ ‘Their manner’?” repeated Dillman.
    “Yes. When we arrested them, they protested their innocence then refused to say a word. It was almost as if they had a pact of silence. But that’s gone now,” said Redfern. “Heritage camevery close to taunting me