Free Murder on the Caronia by Conrad Allen Page B

the bathroom?” she wondered.
    “Did you have a bath this morning?”
    “Yes. I had a reservation, first thing. I don’t remember taking the earrings in there with me. Though I did have my necklace for safekeeping,” she said, touching the pearls around her neck. “I always wear that when I’m traveling. Even for breakfast.” She scratched her head. “I suppose I
could
have had the earrings on. I am a little absentminded at times.” She turned to face Genevieve. “Oh, this has cheered me up no end. You must let me give you a reward.”
    “That won’t be necessary, Mrs. Robart.”
    “But you recovered them within a matter of hours.”
    “The bath steward must take the credit. He found them when he was putting some fresh towels in there. Why don’t you give him a tip when you next see him?”
    “I will,” agreed the other woman, looking for her purse, “but I’d like to give you something as well. You’ve soothed my mind wonderfully.”
    “They
are
beautiful earrings.”
    “David always knew what to buy for me.”
    “Take more care of them in future.”
    “Oh, I will, I promise.” She found her purse. “Ah, here we are.”
    Genevieve held up both hands. “No, Mrs. Robart. Put it away. I’m not allowed to take money. I was only doing my job and I get paid for that. I just hope that every problem I encounter gets sorted out as quickly and painlessly as this one.”
    “I’m sorry to have bothered you.”
    “We aim to serve.”
    “You certainly did that.” She opened the door. “Thank you again.”
    “If I might offer one last piece of advice….”
    “Leave any valuables in the purser’s safe from now on,” said Mrs. Robarts, anticipating the counsel. “I will, Miss Masefield, I guarantee it. I’ve had my scare. You won’t hear another peep out of me for the rest of the voyage, I promise you.”
    Sergeant Mulcaster was outraged. Bunching up his fist, he brought it down on the table with such a bang that he scattered a pile of papers lying there. They floated lazily to the floor.
    “Poke their nose into our investigation?” he roared.
    “Calm down, Ronnie.”
    “I hope you told him to mind his own bloody business.”
    “It was only a suggestion,” said Redfern.
    “Well, it’s one that we can do without.” Mulcaster’s pride had been hurt. “When I see Mr. Dillman again, I’ll tell him what I think of his offer.”
    “He was making it on behalf of Miss Masefield.”
    “That’s even worse, Inspector.”
    “Why?”
    “Because the lady is an amateur!” snarled Mulcaster. “She’s nice to look at, I grant you, but she’s had no experience of real police work. At least Dillman has had some professional training—if you can call it that. But not that well-dressed assistant of his. What on earth did she imagine she could do?”
    “Talk to Carrie Peterson as a woman.”
    “Give me a dress to wear and I could do that.”
    “Ronnie!”
    “I’m sorry, Inspector, but this has made my blood boil. We don’t need any outsiders butting in on our investigation.”
    “That’s what I said to him.”
    “How would Dillman like it if we started to do his job for him?” He bent down to pick up the pages on the floor, stillseething with righteous indignation. “Blimey! There are five days to go yet. We’ve got bags of time to squeeze a confession out of Heritage and his fancy woman. By the time we reach Liverpool, we’ll have them singing like canaries.”
    “I’m not so sure about that,” said the inspector.
    “Oh?”
    “They’re a tougher proposition than I thought. Especially Miss Peterson.”
    “Let me frighten the truth out of her.”
    “No, Ronnie.”
    “We’ve been much too soft so far.”
    “You weren’t exactly soft when we arrested them,” Redfern reminded him. “You used undue force against her, there’s no doubt about it. She’s not a strong woman. You had no cause to pounce on her like that.”
    “I thought she was trying to get away,