Murder on Skiathos

by Margaret Addison

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Oh, nothing to speak of. That’s to say, I suggested we go down the cliff path and take a walk on the beach. I thought it would be awfully pleasant, hearing the waves lapping the shore, and all that. But Mr Dewhurst wasn’t very keen. He kept looking in his pockets as if he was searching for something that was not there.’

  ‘His pocket watch?’ suggested Rose. ‘I daresay he was looking for it and discovered it was missing.’

  ‘Not that lovely gold and diamond affair?’ exclaimed Lavinia. ‘He had it at dinner, I remember seeing it.’

  ‘It was stolen,’ said Rose shortly.

  ‘Was it really? Well I never! But I suppose it might explain why he seemed rather put out. He was awfully keen to finish our walk. I thought it rather rotten of him at the time.’

  ‘I daresay he was anxious because he did not know what time it was. He had arranged to meet Miss Adler at that very spot. It would have been most unfortunate for him if she had arrived while you were there.’

  ‘I see,’ said Lavinia coldly. ‘Well Miss Adler didn’t appear, if that’s what you were wondering? I climbed back up the footpath and, as I neared the top, Alec Dewhurst had the sheer audacity to try and kiss me.’

  The hotel proprietor looked up from his pocketbook, evidently shocked.

  ‘Oh, you mustn’t worry, Mr Kettering, I didn’t let him,’ said Lavinia, smiling wickedly. ‘It was awfully embarrassing really, because, you see, I tried to push him away, but a strand of his hair became tangled on the gold and pearl comb I was wearing in my hair….’ She paused to address Rose. ‘You know the one I mean? It’s frightfully pretty. I was desperately afraid he would break it.’ She laughed gaily. ‘We must have looked a right old pair because it took simply ages to get untangled and all the time we were trapped there thinking the other was perfectly beastly and wishing we were anywhere but standing there fastened together.’ She giggled. ‘It was absolutely horrid. We couldn’t get away from each other fast enough, I can tell you.’ She became reflective. ‘I suppose that must have been when I lost my earring. I say, Rose, I’m awfully glad you found it.’

  Mr Kettering raised an enquiring eyebrow. Not wishing to explain her discovery of the earring, Rose said quickly:

  ‘Mr Dewhurst was alive when you left him?’

  ‘Oh, absolutely. You should have seen him run back towards the hotel; I swear he was sprinting.’ The expression on Lavinia’s face became more serious. ‘I say, do you think I was the last person to see him alive?’

  ‘Other than the murderer, you mean? Most probably. I don’t suppose you saw anyone, did you, on your way back to the hotel?’

  ‘No, I didn’t.’ Lavinia got to her feet, realising that she was about to be dismissed.

  Rose turned and addressed her next remark to the hotel proprietor. ‘I suppose we ought to speak to Mr Thurlow now.’

  Lavinia had been making her way towards the door but, at mention of the courier, she turned around and said excitedly; ‘Oh yes, do. Fancy me forgetting! I know for a fact that Mr Thurlow had a very good motive for wishing Alec Dewhurst dead.’

  ‘On account of Miss Adler throwing him over for the deceased, do you mean?’ said Rose.

  ‘No, though I doubt he’d have been too pleased about it. I know I wouldn’t, if I’d been him. No,’ she paused, her face brightening with excitement as she retraced her steps back to the chair she had so recently vacated and stood behind it. ‘He had a proper motive. What would you say if I told you that Ron Thurlow had been to prison?’

  Mr Kettering dropped his fountain pen. It occurred to Rose that he must be wondering if his guests comprised entirely of criminals. ‘Begging your pardon, Lady Lavinia, but I think you must be mistaken,’ he said. ‘Mr Thurlow works for a highly reputable travel company. He has the most impeccable references.’

  ‘I heard it straight from the horse’s mouth,’ said Lavinia, a little put out. ‘That’s where he first made Alec Dewhurst’s acquaintance.’

  ‘Surely Mr Thurlow didn’t tell you that himself?’ said Rose incredulously.

  ‘Of course not. It isn’t something one would exactly brag about, is it? No.’ Lavinia put her hand on the chair and leaned forward. ‘I just happened to overhear him talking to Mr Dewhurst.’ She had the grace to blush slightly. ‘They didn’t see me.’

  ‘You were eavesdropping, you mean?’ Rose said sharply.

  ‘I’m not in the habit of listening to other people’s conversations,’ Lavinia said, a trifle defensively. ‘I happened be on the cliff path, that’s all, when they were standing on the edge of the cliff talking.’

  ‘Were they aware that you were listening?’

  ‘No, I’ve already told you. They were too engrossed in their conversation to notice me. They were quarrelling, you see, and their voices carried. I heard every word.’

  Lavinia required very little prompting to provide a surprisingly comprehensive summary of the conversation that had taken place between Alec Dewhurst and Ron Thurlow. Both Rose and Mr Kettering listened with interest, the latter writing down every word in his pocketbook. When Lavinia had finished, Rose said, to herself as much as to anyone else:

  ‘So Thurlow is not Ron Thurlow’s real name, any more than Dewhurst was Alec Dewhurst’s?’

  ‘It’s dashed confusing, isn’t it?’ said Lavinia, ‘I say, I felt awfully sorry for Mr Thurlow, particularly when Mr Dewhurst threatened to tell his employer and Miss Adler that he’d been in prison, if he said anything to the duchess about his past.’

  ‘Mr Dewhurst admitted to being the duchess’ lover?’

  ‘I should say! He fair boasted about it.’ Lavinia paused a moment. A perplexed expression suddenly crossing her face. ‘I say, that’s jolly odd.’

  ‘What is?’ Rose asked sharply.

  ‘Well, Mr Dewhurst boasted that he was living with another man’s wife but, now that I come to think about it, he was quite adamant that she was not the Duchess of Grismere. Mr Thurlow pressed him on the point.’

  ‘That does strike one as rather odd,’ agreed Rose. ‘One would expect a man like Dewhurst to brag to all and sundry if he had secured the affections of a duchess.’

  ‘Well, he didn’t. In fact, he sounded awfully put out when Mr Thurlow put the question to him.’

  ‘It seems to me,’ commented Mr Kettering, ‘that, if what Lady Lavinia says is true, Mr Thurlow had ample motive for wishing Mr Dewhurst dead. In fact, I would go so far as to say that he has the best motive of the lot of them. First, he was in fear of losing his job. It stands to reason his employer didn’t know he had a criminal record. A fellow who’d been to prison would find it awfully difficult to get another place. Second, Miss Adler. Mr Thurlow seemed awfully fond of her and then this Dewhurst fellow goes and woos her from right under his nose for no other reason than out of spite, as far as I can see.’

  ‘Are you going to arrest Mr Thurlow?’ Lavinia asked rather breathlessly.

  ‘We ought to see what he has to say for himself, first,’ said Rose, thinking that Lavinia was being dreadfully premature in her assumption. Rose was perusing Mr Kettering’s notes at the time and did not look up from what she was doing nor hear the exchange that passed between Lavinia and the hotel proprietor, as the latter escorted her to the door.

  ‘It is only a matter of time, Lady Lavinia, before Mr Thurlow is apprehended,’ Mr Kettering said quietly. ‘Of course, in telling you this I am relying on your absolute discretion. But I see no harm in it, what with your being a relative of Lady Belvedere’s, so to speak, and quite as accustomed to violent death as her ladyship, if the newspapers are to be believed.’ Lavinia nodded encouragingly. ‘Yes,’ continued the hotel proprietor, ‘I am quite confident of an arrest before the day is out.’

  Had Rose heard these words and advised caution, it is quite possible that the events that followed, and the various outcomes, might have been quite different.

  A servant had been dispatched to summon Ron Thurlow and, while they waited for
the young man to arrive, it occurred to Rose she had quite forgotten to enquire about the hotel proprietor’s interview with the Duchess of Grismere.

  ‘Did you find out from the duchess what the initials were that she had engraved on Alec Dewhurst’s pocket watch?’

  ‘Indeed I did, your ladyship, though her grace was rather loath to tell me.’ Mr Kettering paused a moment to shudder at the recollection of his interview with the peer. He flicked through the pages of his pocketbook. ‘Yes, here they are. I made a particular note of it. “O”, “E”, “G”; all in upper case.’

  ‘Then Miss Adler was quite right about the “O”, though she appears to have been mistaken about the last letter,’ said Rose. ‘If you remember, Mr Kettering, she mentioned it was made up of lines like a capital “M”, or a “W”.’

  ‘Miss Adler must have been thinking of the middle initial. A capital “E” is made up of lines. She most probably got into a bit of a muddle.’’

  ‘I wonder,’ said Rose. Something was niggling at the back of her mind. Before she could reflect any further on the matter, however, they were joined by Ron Thurlow, who entered the room in a watered-down version of his usual affable manner. It was apparent that he, like the other guests, had been affected by the recent tragedy. The skin on his cheeks was taut, and he too looked wan and pale.

  ‘I’m sorry you’ve been kept waiting. It’s always rather galling to be last,’ Rose said. ‘Let’s get to business, shall we?’

  She began by asking a few perfunctory questions concerning Ron Thurlow’s employment as a travel courier, and his stay on the island. The questions had the desired effect and the young man began to visibly relax.

  ‘Can you suggest a motive for why anyone might wish to harm Mr Dewhurst?’

  Ron started at the abruptness of the question, which seemed to him to have appeared out of thin air, and he shifted in his seat uncomfortably.

  ‘No,’ he said, though the expression on his face suggested otherwise.

  There was a long pause. Ron took a deep breath and said: ‘Look here, I daresay it’s common knowledge that Mr Dewhurst and I didn’t hit it off frightfully well. That’s not to say we argued. We … we just didn’t take to each other, that’s all.’

  Rose did not consider it worthwhile to argue this point. Mr Kettering, however, appeared to have other ideas.

  ‘You detested the fellow, didn’t you?’ he said. ‘He took your girl. You quarrelled.’

  Ron coloured slightly and said rather cautiously: ‘I admit I have an admiration for Miss Adler –’

  ‘You were next door to being in love with the girl, weren’t you?’ continued Mr Kettering, in his pugnacious mood. He had not forgotten that there sat before him a man with a criminal record masquerading as a thoroughly decent chap. ‘When a fellow’s in that condition he’ll do any fool thing.’

  Ron stared at the hotel proprietor open mouthed. He was not used to Mr Kettering speaking to him in such an aggressive manner. ‘As it happens, I minded awfully at first,’ he said, a note of reproach in his voice. ‘But then you get past minding, don’t you?’

  ‘Do you?’ Rose said.

  ‘Yes, you do.’ Ron paused a moment before continuing. ‘I’m rather used to it, as it happens. I’m not the sort of man a girl loses her head over.’

  ‘And Alec Dewhurst?’

  ‘Oh, he was just the sort of fellow a girl breaks her heart over.’ Ron gave Rose a rueful smile. ‘Even I will admit the fellow possessed a certain charm, not to mention being handsome. Women like that sort of thing, don’t they?’

  Rose ignored the question and said: ‘When did you last see Mr Dewhurst?’

  ‘Last night in the dining room. When I left, he was still dancing with Miss Adler.’

  ‘That must have riled you?’ said Mr Kettering.

  ‘It did, but I didn’t do anything about it, if that is what you are suggesting.’

  ‘You didn’t arrange to meet Mr Dewhurst later that night?’ Rose asked. ‘Or possibly you went for a walk on the coastal path before turning in and encountered him on the cliff?’

  ‘No. I didn’t see him, I tell you, not after I left the dining room.’ Ron regarded the hotel proprietor’s sceptical face and said with asperity: ‘Look here, I had no reason to kill the chap. A man doesn’t go about murdering every fellow who takes his girl.’

  ‘I ought to tell you, Mr Thurlow, that we have a witness to a conversation you had with the deceased in which he threatened you,’ said Rose slowly, watching the expression on the young man’s face change to one of apprehension.

  ‘Yes?’ he said rather feebly.

  ‘We know you were by way of being friends,’ said Mr Kettering, rather nastily. ‘That’s to say you made each other’s acquaintance while in prison.’

  Ron looked from one to the other of them. He appeared quite at a loss for words.

  ‘Don’t be an ass, for heaven’s sake,’ said the hotel proprietor exasperated. ‘We only want the facts, you know. As her ladyship says, we have a most reliable witness to your quarrel.’

  ‘Very well,’ said Ron, in something of a resigned voice. ‘But I ask that you hear me out and not interrupt me.’ He glared pointedly at the hotel proprietor.

  ‘Of course,’ said Rose hurriedly, before Mr Kettering had an opportunity to reply.

  ‘Whatever you may think of me,’ began Ron, ‘I am not a criminal.’ He held up his hand as the hotel proprietor made as if to protest. ‘You agreed to hear me out, remember? I admit I went to prison, but for someone else’s crime, not my own.’

  ‘A likely story,’ mumbled Mr Kettering from the depths of his pocketbook, in which he had been hastily scribbling.

  ‘I don’t ask that you believe me, but it happens to be the truth,’ retorted Ron, ‘I got in with a fast set and … well, the girl I was rather keen on at the time stole some money. I didn’t know what she had done until the police came to arrest her. She was in a dreadful state and in a moment of sheer madness, or chivalry, or whatever you want to call it, I told her that I’d take the blame. It was a damned foolish thing to do, of course, but there it is. To cut a long story short, I was convicted and sent to prison. There, I met Alec Dewhurst, who, among the sea of rogues and scoundrels, seemed to me rather a decent sort. Anyway, I suppose you could say we became friends after a fashion. Dewhurst wasn’t his name then, of course. I knew him as Alec Goodfellow.’

  ‘Did you know that he was a petty crook who preyed on rich women?’ asked Rose.

  ‘I knew that women were attracted to him,’ said Ron, choosing his words with care, ‘and that he was not very particular whether they were married or not. He told me one of them had given him a particularly valuable gift and when her husband, whom she had never mentioned, found out about it he kicked up an almighty stink. He accused Dewhurst of theft and had him arrested. Dewhurst told me that was how he came to be in prison; he was as innocent of the crime for which he was convicted as I was myself.’

  ‘And you believed him?’ enquired Mr Kettering cynically.

  ‘At the time, I did,’ Ron said, defiantly. ‘I had no reason to doubt him. It may sound rather odd to you but, if it hadn’t been for Dewhurst, I don’t know how I’d have coped with being in prison. My friends deserted me and I didn’t have any family to speak of. Dewhurst was released a month before me. I was all for looking him up, but then I found he had been arrested in connection with another theft. It occurred to me then that I had been awfully naïve. He was evidently not at all the man I thought him to be.’

  ‘He threatened to inform your employer that you had been to prison,’ said the hotel proprietor. ‘In fact, he told you he thought it was his duty to do so.’

  ‘What if he did?’

  ‘That would have been a pretty good motive for wishing him dead. A respectable job would be hard to come by for a fellow like you with your prison record.’

  ‘There I beg to differ, Kettering,’ Ron said, a flash of triumph in his eyes. ‘My employer knows that I’ve spent
some time in prison. What is more, he is fully aware I am innocent of the crime for which I was convicted. That girl I told you about is his daughter. She confessed everything to him and he gave me this job in gratitude for my services to his family.’

  ‘If that is indeed true, Alec Dewhurst had no hold over you to remain silent,’ said Rose sharply.

  Was it her imagination or did a look of fear fleetingly cross the young man’s face?

  ‘I had no wish for Miss Adler to know I’d been to prison,’ replied Ron rather sulkily. ‘I … I didn’t want her, or Father Adler, to think any the less of me.’

  To Rose this seemed rather an inadequate explanation, but she did not press the point. Instead, she said:

  ‘If you cared for Miss Adler, as you claim, you would have warned her about Alec Dewhurst, regardless of the harm to your own reputation.’

  ‘I tried, but she cut me dead. She wouldn’t listen to anything I had to say against the fellow,’ said Ron bitterly. ‘I didn’t stop there, of course. I told Miss Hyacinth of my concerns, that I believed Dewhurst to be a thoroughly bad lot. I hoped she would have a quiet word with the vicar. They’re thoroughly decent people, the Adlers. I shouldn’t have wanted Mabel … Miss Adler to come to any harm.’

  ‘Very good of you, I’m sure,’ said Mr Kettering, sarcastically.

  Rose cast him a reproachful look and said hastily. ‘That will be all, Mr Thurlow. Thank you awfully for being so candid.’ She waited until the young man had advanced to the door and was on the point of opening it before adding: ‘Just one more thing, Mr Thurlow, before you go.’

  ‘Yes, your ladyship?’ Ron turned around slowly. Again there was the momentary look of apprehension.

  ‘Mr Dewhurst’s pocket watch is missing, the one he produced at dinner last night. You picked it up when it fell on to the floor, if you remember? I couldn’t help noticing that you examined it closely. Do you by any chance happen to recall the initials that were engraved on the case?’