The False Inspector Dew

'Yes, sir,' answered Mr Saxon flatly.

'I shall want you here to say as much if necessary, but say nothing until I ask you.' The captain reached for his jacket and put it on. 'He should be outside with the junior third officer. Be so good as to ask him to step inside, will you?'

The man who came in was tall enough to be a policeman. He was old enough to be a retired policeman. He had the heavy black moustache just familiar from the press pictures of Inspector Dew bringing Crippen and Le Neve off the ship to face their trial.

But today he looked more like the quarry than the sleuth. His eyes raced across the office as if searching for a means of escape.

Captain Rostron was on his feet and holding out his hand. 'So good of you to come and see us, Mr Dew. No point in introducing ourselves. I'm sure you know who we are, and we're pretty sure we know who you are.' The captain grinned as he spoke. He almost winked.

Walter stared glassily back.

'Let's all sit down,' suggested the captain, waving his guest towards a chair and perching himself on the edge of his great mahogany desk for informality. Saxon found a chair beside the door. 'I'm not one to beat about the bush,' said the captain. 'I haven't asked you here for cocktails, Mr Dew — if I may call you that — as interesting as that might be. As you know, we took a woman from the sea last night and she was dead, poor soul. You have heard about that?'

'Yes,' said Walter almost in a whisper.

'Mr Saxon over there took over. It's the master-at-arms who gets the job of inquiring into anything irregular while we're at sea. Mr Saxon was in the police, weren't you, Mr Saxon?'

'In the docks,' said Mr Saxon. 'Port of London.'

'He's very good with stowaways and smugglers, but suspicious deaths are something else. I'm confiding in you now, Mr Dew. I said suspicious deaths.'

Walter nodded gravely.

'Certain information has been laid before me,' Captain Rostron went on, 'information concerning you. It may be a mistake, of course. Coincidences happen. But if it isn't a mistake, you are the one man on the Mauretania who can help us with our inquiries.' He paused to see the effect of this.

Walter was looking down at his hands. They were shaking.

'You are Chief Inspector Dew, formerly of Scotland Yard?' said the captain a little less confidently.

Walter looked up. He looked at the captain. He looked at Mr Saxon. 'What is this about?'

'I thought I had explained. We need the help of an expert detective. Mr Dew, are you or are you not the same man who arrested Dr Crippen?'

He fingered his necktie. 'Well, yes.'

Captain Rostron looked across at his master-at-arms. 'That's a relief. For a moment I thought… Never mind.' He turned back to Walter. 'I'll be perfectly honest with you, Inspector. We believe the lady was already dead when she was put into the sea. We think she was murdered.'

'Why?' said Walter, frowning.

'I think you ought to see for yourself. Make up your own mind, Inspector. That is, if you will take the case.'

'What do you mean — try to help?'

'We had rather more than that in mind. We were hoping you would agree to be in charge of the investigation.'

Walter shook his head. 'No, I couldn't do that.'

'Why not, Inspector? Mr Saxon would be only too pleased to step aside for a detective of your eminence and experience.'

Walter turned in his chair and looked at Mr Saxon, who was staring into space.

'I, em, I retired from Scotland Yard,' said Walter.

'We know that,' said the captain. 'But you're a younger man than I am, I should think.' He gave a laugh. 'I tell myself I'm not decrepit yet. You can't tell me you aren't as sharp as the day you put the cuffs on Dr Crippen.'

'I don't have the authority. I'm just a private individual.'

The captain made a sweeping gesture with his hand. 'No worries on that score. You'll have my authority. That's sufficient. Good Lord, I can christen people, marry them and bury them, so I'm damned sure I can hire a good detective to look after them.'

'Look after them?'

'To find the murderer, Inspector. You see, I have a duty to the passengers.'

'I suppose you have.'

'And I see it as my duty to ask for your cooperation.'

'I'm just a passenger on your ship,' said Walter, i don't have any of the things a detective needs.'

'Such as..?'

He moved uncomfortably in the chair. 'Well, a notebook.'

'You shall have it,' said the captain. 'Handcuffs, a magnifying glass.' He started taking things from his desk. 'A pencil, a foot rule, everything you need.'

'Criminal records,' said Walter. 'It's very difficult without criminal records.'

'I can send a wireless message to Scotland Yard,' said Captain Rostron. 'You of all people ought to remember that, Inspector.'

'Oh, yes.'

'Have we convinced you?'

'Yes,' said Walter bleakly, i suppose you have.'

'Good man. We're very grateful to you, aren't we, Mr Saxon?'

'Very grateful,' repeated Mr Saxon.

'Immensely,' said the captain. He got up and walked to the door, i expect you want to see the body now.'

8

It may have been a day to set pulses racing and nerves on edge, but it was still Sunday. At 9pm in the first class lounge every seat was taken for the soirie. There were to be recitals on the pianoforte and the violin. The chief attraction was unquestionably Signor Martinelli, who had consented to perform some favourite arias in the second half of the evening.

Alma had found a place at the end of a row next to a woman in a black crepe and diamante dress who clearly had no interest in anyone other than the small man with a purple cummerbund to her left. It seemed as good a place as any to pass the evening quietly reassembling her thoughts. She had not reckoned with Johnny Finch, His voice spoke a couple of inches from her ear at the conclusion of Chopin's Revolutionary Study. He was in the seat behind her.

'Just thought you'd like to know that we pulled it off. The captain's a wily old character. Listened to our deputation without batting an eyelid. Anyone would think he knew that Dew was on his ship, but I'm damned sure he didn't. Thanked us for mentioning the matter and said it was under consideration. Blow me if I didn't hear twenty minutes later that Dew was called up to his office.'

Johnny's last words were overtaken by a hissing from more than one direction. The pianist was poised to begin her next piece. Alma sat through it without listening. She was trying to assimilate the inconceivable. If Johnny's assumptions were correct, Walter had been invited to investigate the murder he had himself committed. It was bizarre beyond belief. But by degrees she began to see that if he could accept the role of self-pursuer, and be convincing in it, no-one would ever guess the truth.

'The word is that the captain will be speaking to us in the interval,' said Johnny during the applause for the pianist. 'My guess is that he won't be alone. He's got the trump card now and he wants us all to take a look at it.'

After this, Alma spent the violin solo sending up prayers for Walter. The poor man could hardly have got over the shock of being called to the captain's office, and now he was about to be paraded in front of the passengers. Would he be equal to the ordeal?

The violinist was into his second piece when Alma turned to ice at the sight of the captain standing just inside the door with Walter, deathly pale, at his side. They waited for the last note. They waited for the applause. They stepped to the place where the soloist had stood.

Everyone went silent. The captain spoke: i shall not delay your enjoyment for long, ladies and gentlemen. Those of you who were at Morning Service today will remember that 1 mentioned a distressing matter, the death of a lady passenger. Some of you have been good enough since then to place information with the master-at-arms pertaining to the incident. However certain questions remain to be answered. I know that there is concern among you that the matter should be cleared up quickly, and of course I share your sentiments. I am pleased to tell you that I have accepted an offer of help from this gentleman on my left. He is a former Chief Inspector of Scotland Yard and a famous detective, indeed, outside the world of fiction I can think of no detective better known than the man who caught Crippen — Chief Inspector Dew.'