‘You kept an eye on his behaviour?’
‘I have sources of information.’
‘Your company’s representatives in the district?’
She nodded.
‘I see you know quite a lot already, Mr. Littlejohn.’
‘I visited Mr. Kenneth before I called here.’
‘I see. Kenneth told me he was prepared to tell the police all he knew. He never got on with Hector, but murder is another matter. He is as anxious as you are to find the culprit.’
‘I imagine, from what he told me, Mr. Kenneth had good reasons for disapproving of his brother.’
‘Kenneth was always a prim and proper boy; the very reverse of Hector. He joined the firm when he left school, worked hard and finally took over the business from me and succeeded in running it extremely well. Hector didn’t take to the business at all. He never quite knew what he wanted. Journalist, lawyer, flying officer, member of Parliament . . . He grew hot and cold about them and finally did nothing at all. He drew his income from the company, spent it, borrowed and spent that, too. You have probably been told already that he was somewhat of a rake. He could never resist a pretty face. Do not judge him too harshly. His father died when he was a small boy and he missed a father’s control and guidance. He always had most charming manners and a great capacity for wheedling his way through life. He was spoiled. . . . ’
‘What about Mr. Kenneth? He, too, suffered from a similar environment as a boy. He doesn’t give one the impression of being spoiled. Quite the contrary.’
‘They were born with different temperaments, as though sired by different fathers, although I assure you that such was not the case. Kenneth is like his father. No sense of humour, an earnest man, immersed in his work and proud of his integrity. Hector’s behaviour shocked and outraged him.’
She gave Littlejohn an arch look.
‘Hector was a bit like me. Until circumstances forced me to settle down and run the business I was a harum-scarum and enjoyed the good things of life, although I didn’t go so far as Hector in my love-life. But although my father was a figure in the church – Dean of Portwich and above reproach – my uncles were reputed to be rakes. My father prayed a lot for them and I was instructed never to find myself alone with Uncle Humphrey.’
‘Why did Mr. Kenneth never marry?’
‘I really ought to tell you to mind your own business in such family matters, but, as I said before, someone else will enlighten you if I don’t, and perhaps with less tact. The truth is that he was in love with Lucy. Both boys were. And she chose Hector. It wasn’t that she chose the bad against the good man; it was simply Hector’s technique which won the day.’
‘Did it never cause trouble in the family? All of you living under the same roof?’
‘Hector and Lucy had a flat overlooking the harbour for the first three years after they married. Then I became ill and was almost bedridden for 12 months, from an operation. Lucy was a trained nurse and suggested they move in here. It was as simple as that. Kenneth seemed to have got over his disappointment and raised no objections. In fact, it gave him a chance to take a greater brotherly interest in Lucy. Don’t get me wrong. Kenneth is no rake; quite the contrary.’
‘Was there trouble between the two brothers through Hector’s treatment of his wife?’
‘Quite a lot. They bickered and quarrelled and Kenneth played the heavy brother sometimes. Neither of them was a violent man. They shouted and swore at each other, but neither struck the other. That was the extent of it and I hope you are not regarding Kenneth as a suspect, because you would be quite wrong.’
She paused and frowned as though faced with a problem.
‘And yet. . . . With all his black marks, Hector remained the most charming of the pair, well-liked in the locality, popular wherever he went. Good old Heck! People were amused by his escapades and few condemned him. Although she has never confided in me for years, I know Lucy loved him to the end and her scruples about parting were of the heart more than religious. Now, she is completely shattered with grief. And Kenneth is the humdrum member of the partnership, slightly disapproved of because he isn’t a sport, can’t swim or man a boat, almost feared by the workmen because he is strict and just, and labelled a bore because he is strait-laced and has no sense of humour. That’s life!’
‘You must know from experience and from the information you receive, all about Hector’s friends and associates. Can you think of anyone likely to kill him or wish him ill?’
‘You mean have his love affairs made enemies for him or his other escapades created ill-will . . .?’
‘Excuse me. You mention escapades. What did they consist of?’
Mrs. Todd thought for a moment.
‘You are asking me to reveal what might be called family secrets which shed a rather unhappy light on the life of one of us now dead. And, as far as I can see, it would serve no useful purpose in the present investigation to speak of them.’
‘I am sorry, Mrs. Todd, and I won’t press the matter. It wasn’t idle curiosity made me raise it. I wondered if any incidents in Mr. Hector’s past life gave rise to, let us say, hatred which could be behind the crime. You might think it over and if anything strikes you please let me know.’
‘I had no idea when I used the word “escapades” that you would place great importance on it. I was thinking more of his pranks and mischief when he was young. . . . ’
‘Mr. Kenneth, when I interviewed him, talked of his brother’s love affairs, some of which he said were unfortunate. One of them almost ruined the family, coming, as it did, at a time when business wasn’t too good. He said you had saved the situation only by selling your jewellery. He also mentioned the case of forged cheques. . . . ’
At first, Mrs. Todd showed signs of panic. Her eyes opened wide and her mouth dropped. Then she recovered herself and spoke harshly.
‘It was cruel of Kenneth to speak of such things at a time like this, Mr. Littlejohn.’
‘I did not ask him to do so. He volunteered the information. He seemed eager to tell me all he knew.’
‘You cannot say that I have not been anxious to do the same. I did not, as the incidents you mention passed through my mind just now, imagine they could in any way be of use to the police in this investigation. However, I see that I was wrong.’
Littlejohn was surprised at the stamina and the attitude of the old lady in discussing the crime. She remained in full possession of herself with no show of grief or self-pity.
‘Could you tell me, Mrs. Todd, where Mr. Hector obtained the money to purchase the expensive new boat in which he met his death?’
‘I do not know. Perhaps he borrowed it from a friend or even acquired it on hire purchase. He never discussed his business with me, except when he wished to borrow money from me. I certainly did not provide the means of his buying such an expensive plaything.’
Hopkinson’s eyes were fixed on Littlejohn. He was so surprised at what seemed to him a battle of wits between his Chief and Mrs. Todd that he forgot to put pencil to paper and continue the notes he had been making.
‘We will not take any more of your time, Mrs. Todd. I am sorry we have had to bother you at all so near the tragedy.’
‘Please do not mention it. I am anxious to help the police and trust you will forgive me if I withheld useful information. Also, I hope you will not think me inhospitable not offering you coffee. I am upset and confused and I confess I forgot my duties.’
She seemed fully recovered and herself again. She preceded them to the door, waving aside, with a smile, Hopkinson’s gesture to help with her wheel-chair, which she propelled quickly with little jerky thrusts.
‘Please call again if, at any time, you think I can help. . . . ’
It was noon and the local yacht races were about to begin. In the midst of Nearer My God to Thee, through which the carillon was staggering, a maroon was fired, and apparently to warn all and sundry that the show was due to commence. People on the road started to
run and there was a commotion on the seashore as the crowds, sunning themselves, leapt to their feet and gathered their belongings ready to be in at the start. It turned out to be a false alarm. A fishing boat had got into difficulties in the bay and made distress signals. The explosion was from the lifeboat house and the spectators had an additional spectacle in the muster and launching of the inshore rescue ship. The yacht race was delayed half an hour.
Littlejohn and Hopkinson joined the procession of holidaymakers rushing excitedly to the quayside. There were cheers for the lifeboatmen as they put out to sea from the harbour and derisive shouts for the mayor, who, heading a small convoy and wearing his chain of office, robes and cocked hat, suddenly appeared from nowhere intent on starting the yachts, and found himself foiled. There was rollicking laughter to greet him from the spectators lining the waterfront.
The Trident, in view of the mild sunny day and the proceedings in the open air, had spread a number of small tables along its frontage and drinks and light lunches were being served. In the prevailing confusion around them the detectives had not got down to business and now Littlejohn indicated one of the empty tables.
‘Let’s sit down and have a drink and talk matters over.’
The staff of the hotel had crowded to the door to watch the goings-on and the manager himself served Littlejohn and Hopkinson with beer.
He was annoyed at the attitude of the waiters, but feared that if he exerted his authority, they would all come out on strike. He had been drinking himself to hide his chagrin and staggered as he carried the tray.
‘Excuse me, gentlemen. I’m upset. Staff troubles. Always staff troubles.’ And he looked across the water as though wondering whether or not to take a header in it and end it all.
Hopkinson produced his notebook and laid it on the table to show he was ready for business. He confessed to Littlejohn that he hadn’t had much success during his tour of the town in search of people wandering round the quay and waterfront at a late hour on the night of the crime. He had even consulted the vicar and the local doctor.
‘In case they’d been to a deathbed or a confinement at a late hour. The doctor had been called out and returned about midnight, but saw nobody except. . . .’
Hopkinson referred to his book to give the exact answer.
‘Except a couple of lovers in the town-hall doorway in frantic disarray as he put it. He didn’t recognise either of them, he said. He seems to have a funny sense of humour. . . . ’
Littlejohn could hardly keep his face straight.
‘Nothing else?’
‘No sir. I’m sorry. . . .’
‘Don’t apologise. You did your best. Ken and his mother don’t seem very fond of Hector. As though they’ve grown tired of besmirching the family honour and are relieved that it’s all finished. I’m not suggesting that they murdered him in consequence, but their attitude is certainly not one of heavy mourning. I hope we can soon see Heck’s widow. I wonder if she’s the same?’
Another maroon shook the place. This time it was the real thing, and the yachts started to sail away. Everybody crowded to the waterside and someone created a diversion by edging too close and falling in. The mayor was busy on his official barge, showing his interest by following the competitors through a telescope which he seemed to have difficulty in focusing.
‘Another beer?’
Hopkinson said he would, thank you, and waved in the direction of the waiters, who pretended not to see him. They had been betting heavily on the results and that was much more important for the present. The manager arrived again. He carried two beers.
‘I thought it would be the same again, and I’d better attend to it. It’s no use trusting the staff until the boats have rounded the head and reached the open sea. It’s the same every year. The customers are too familiar with them. . . . ’
Littlejohn interrupted his lamentations.
‘Do you buy wine from Todd and Co.?’
‘Yes. It’s carafe stuff, you know. Bottled here. If you want château bottled or the better class wines we get those from a London firm. Todds’ don’t handle the classy ones. Mind you, the carafe wines are good and cheap for washing down a meal, but for connoisseurs . . . No. We’ve a good cellar here.’
‘I’m sure you have. Who takes the orders for Todds’ wines?’
‘They have two travellers, representatives they call them, who go round to the hotels and licensed grocers advertising their lines and taking orders.’
‘Who are they?’
‘Two elderly men who’ve been with the family since they were boys. John James Dawson and John Willie Lever. Were you wanting to buy some to take back to London, because I could attend to it . . .?’
‘No, thanks. I was just interested in their selling systems.’
‘It’s a bit old-fashioned compared with modern ways, but it works very well. They have considerable sales for about 50 miles round Portwich and these two experienced salesmen rake in the custom. They’re a popular couple and bring in a lot of business for the firm.’
‘Where do they live?’
‘Somewhere in the locality. I could find their addresses if you like. But you’ll see them in one of the bars here most evenings. Dawson is a seasoned drinker, but Lever drinks very little. He’s troubled with his liver and wine doesn’t agree with him.’
The yachts were now all at sea and the waiters were taking more interest in their jobs. The manager left to remind them that lunch was waiting and the usual routine commenced.
Chapter 5
Dinner-Table Gossip
It was the drab hour between tea and dinner. Littlejohn stood at the window of the hotel which overlooked the waterfront watching the boat owners clearing the decks and tying everything down. Those who were lucky enough to have shelter in the very limited boathouse accommodation were eagerly seeking it and steering their craft out of harm’s way. In the basin the ships were tugging at their cables. The great day had been something of a washout. No sooner had the mayor fired the starting gun than the wind got up, as though by his efforts Mr. Pollitt had disturbed the elements.
As the races proceeded, so did the wind. Finally, in the later afternoon, only the best of the yachts completed the course and a lot of weaklings and stragglers had to be helped in. Ultimately, a short but sharp freak storm of tropical rain crowned the lot. The prognostications of the official forecasters had been clear skies and favourable winds. Everyone was furious about it and they refused to be pacified even when the deputy mayor made it known that he had telephoned the B.B.C., told them off, and demanded an inquiry and a full explanation.
The gala atmosphere and the subsequent fury at the weather and the weather-prophets thoroughly upset the daily routine of the town. Littlejohn was at loss how to proceed with the investigation of Heck Todd’s murder, which had been quite forgotten in the prevailing turmoil. There were a number of people the detectives wished to interview, but they all seemed mixed up in the crowds.
Lunch at the Trident was a cold one and there weren’t many partaking even of that. It was a day for sandwiches for those who lined the quay, beach and coastline intent on the races. Not that the bulk of them knew much about sailing and its mysteries, but it was an outing and the bookies were everywhere and a lot of bets had been laid.
Far from being bored by the hiatus in the inquiry, Hopkinson was eager and enthusiastic to be doing something. The encounter with Mrs. Todd earlier in the day had stimulated him and he seemed to have formed a theory that to interview all and sundry connected with the case would bring results if not a complete solution. He told Littlejohn so.
To Littlejohn it seemed that Hoppy was confusing the High Court procedure about which he had learned in his law examinations, with the field-work of the detective. All the same, there was no harm in encouraging his eagerness.
‘We’ve already interviewed Kenneth Todd and his mother. You’d better not go over the ground with them again for the present. There are, however, two other interesting fel
lows who might be able to help us. They’re Todd & Co.’s representatives who travel on circuit among Todds’ customers taking orders for wines. . . .’
Hopkinson’s face fell. He wondered what a couple of commercial travellers had to do with the murder.
‘These two seem to be peddlers of gossip and Kenneth Todd and his mother have actually used them as what might be called private eyes to report as much as they could about Heck Todd and his doings. They will probably be able to tell us quite a lot. We’d better lay them by the heels somewhere and question them. There’s a yacht club dinner here tonight, as you’ll have observed. . . .’
He indicated the large dining-room in which waitresses were already laying the covers for what might be, at a rough guess, over a hundred guests.
‘ . . . I wouldn’t be surprised if our two travellers were among those present. Go and ask the manager if he has the place-lists for the tables, and if J. J. Dawson and J. W. Lever are included in them. By the way, you and I are invited as guests of the mayor.’
Hopkinson almost ran to the manager’s office in his eagerness. He was quickly back again.
‘Both of them will be there, sir. Kenneth Todd was invited, but has declined in view of the recent death of his brother. The mayor of Portwich will be there, too, and the Chief Constable should have been, but has declined through pressure of business.’
‘Probably the Chief Constable’s cried off because, in view of the condition of his two chief assistants, he can’t bear the thought of exotic meals at present. Especially if he’s seen the menu. There’s one on display in the hall, I see. Scallops, chicken vol-au-vent, tournedos Rossini and omelette surprise. No wonder it’s turned him up!’
Murder Adrift Page 5
