The False Inspector Dew

Walter glanced at Mr Saxon. He looked just as unconvinced.

'Well, he must have had some reason to shoot me.'

There was a moment's silence before Jack said, 'I don't wish to give offence, but I don't think you were the target. I think he was aiming at me.'

'You?' Walter's eyes opened wider. He looked slightly chagrined.

Jack nodded, i don't know how much you remember, Inspector. You turned away from me and caught it in the shoulder.'

'I'm aware of that,' said Walter, putting his hand to his wound.

'If you hadn't moved, it would have caught me. You fell back against me.'

'Oh.'

'It is more likely, isn't it?' Jack persisted. 'First Kate, and then me. Someone is out to kill me.'

Walter pondered this interpretation. 'If that really is the case, Mr Saxon probably saved your life by putting you under guard.'

From the scowl that Mr Saxon gave, this was a credit he would rather have done without.

Jack continued conveniently putting words into Walter's mouth. 'I expect you're going to say that this isn't the work of a maniac after all. I'm compelled to admit that you're right. It must be someone with a grudge against Kate and me, but who?'

'Who, indeed.'

Jack rubbed his chin.

Walter fiddled with the tassels on his bedspread.

Mr Saxon sighed intolerantly.

Jack clicked his fingers. 'Paul Westerfield. It all comes back to him. I must have been mistaken about him. He was sharper than I ever gave him credit for. What do you think, Inspector? Could he have realised we were trying to rook him?'

'You're the best judge of that,' said Walter with his flair for the neutral observation.

'Even so, murder is a very extreme reaction,' Jack went on. 'He must be unbalanced to take it so personally. He didn't say anything at the time, but I suppose if he harboured his resentment … He gives the impression of being sane, but there's something about him … Inspector, I think you should make inquiries into Paul Westerfield. You could find out where he was last night when you were shot.'

'There you are,' said Walter with satisfaction. 'I was sure I could rely on you to help.'

'You believe me?'

'I shall do exactly as you say.'

'Am I free to go, then?'

'I don't think we should detain you. What do you say, Mr Saxon?'

The grunt emitted by the master-at-arms could have meant anything, but it sounded less magnanimous than Walter.

'In that case…' said Jack. He got up to leave.

'There is one other thing,' said Walter.

'Yes?'

'Would you ask the doctor to call and see me. I think I'm ready to get up.'

19

It was the happiest day in Marjorie Livingstone Cordell's life, or at least the happiest since she had married Livy. Barbara had told her after breakfast that Paul had asked her to marry him. At the height of that dreadful storm the previous evening those two young people had found a quiet corner of the ship and agreed to share the rest of their lives. It was very romantic. They had still been wearing their Pilgrim costumes. Marjorie could not imagine anything more charming or appropriate.

Paul had very properly told Barbara that he would ask for the permission of her parents. There was some uncertainty about whom he should approach, because Livy was not her natural father, but Marjorie had decided that this was not important. Livy could answer for them both, as this was a formality more easily settled between men. 'We'll let them feel important,' she told Barbara. 'Poor darlings, it's the only chance they get.' It was agreed that Livy would be in the smoking room at noon, and Paul would appear a minute later. They would say the necessary things and join the ladies for lunch. Livy would order a bottle of champagne.

Mother and daughter planned these excellent arrangements. When Marjorie talked to Livy he surprised her. He was not enthusiastic, i'd rather leave this to you, if you don't mind,' he said. 'It's not in my character to stand on ceremony. The boy can speak to you.'

'There's no reason to be nervous,' Marjorie told him. 'Good heavens, Paul has some reason to be nervous, but you haven't.'

'Really, Marie, I just want to sit here in our stateroom and read a book.'

Marjorie was shaken. 'That's a terrible admission, Livy. Barbara is our daughter. You agreed the day you married me to treat her as your own. Now she has made the great decision of her life, and you would prefer to ignore it. How could I tell her that? Put on your suit and a collar and tie and let's think of those two young people instead of ourselves.'

Livy knew better than to prolong the argument. He closed his book and started changing his clothes. He had just got into his dark suit when somebody knocked on the door.

'Are you decent?' called Marjorie as she went to open it.

'That's a matter of opinion,' grumbled Livy. i don't feel decent.'

Marjorie opened the door. 'Oh. Excuse me, I was expecting someone else. Livy, Inspector Dew is here.'

'Is it convenient?' asked Walter.

'Sure,' said Livy, coming forward. 'We were just going to keep an appointment, but we can give you a few minutes. Won't you come in?'

'You don't look too good, Inspector,' said Marjorie. 'We heard about the shooting last night. What a terrible thing. Where were you hit?'

'In the shoulder, ma'am.'

'What can we do for you?' asked Livy.

'I hope you can help me. It's about the young man who was at your table last night.'

'Paul?' said Marjorie. is anything the matter?'

'I don't know. That is what I hope you can tell me.'

'What do you mean? Nothing has happened to him? My husband is meeting him downstairs in a few minutes. Paul wants to ask him for our daughter's hand '

Livy cut in. 'Honey, shall we hear what the Inspector has to say?'

Walter cleared his throat. 'This is confidential, strictly confidential. How long have you known Mr Westerfield?'

'We met him in Paris two weeks ago,' said Livy. 'Barbara knows him better. They were in college together.'

'Barbara has a room at the end of the passage,' said Marjorie.

'He knows that, Marje.'

'Of course.'

'The question is,' said Walter, 'have you noticed anything strange in his behaviour?'

'What do you mean — 'strange'?' asked Livy.

'Odd, peculiar, erratic'

'You think he's some kind of nut?'

'Oh my God!' said Marjorie. 'He's about to be engaged to my daughter!'

'Is he?' said Walter, i must be mistaken, then. I do apologise.' He reached for the door.

'Just a minute,' said Livy. if there's anything against this boy we want to know about it.'