Death Drops the Pilot

by George Bellairs

  “Grebe crossed to the Arms and instead of going in by the front door, went in through the side gate which leads to the yard where there’s a garage made from the old stables. There’s also a door there leads into the public bar behind. If you want a quick one, that’s the best place to go, I hear. So I gathered that Grebe might be wanting a drink to keep out the cold without any fuss, because the ferry was due off in a few minutes.”

  Leo stopped to light his pipe, got to his feet, and started to pace up and down the cell presumably to stretch his legs, for he showed no excitement as his tale went on.

  “I followed him. I thought, this is just the place to give him a surprise. It was pitch dark in the yard, except for the light from an upstairs room which had the blind down. The other windows overlook the sea which is just at the back of the pub. For a minute or two, the pair of us must have been in the yard together in the dark. I thought, as soon as he opens the side door and lets out the light, I’ll bid him good evening and see what he has to say to that.”

  Leo paused in his pacing and faced Littlejohn with a challenging smile as if to say, ‘You know everything; take it up from there.’

  And Littlejohn did.

  “But he didn’t open the door!”

  “No, he didn’t.”

  “He wasn’t going for a drink at all. There’s a gentlemen’s lavatory in that yard just at the side of the house. John Grebe always took his drink slowly. He wasn’t in the habit of having a quick one between ferry crossings. Was he stabbed as he came out of the lavatory?”

  “Yes. When the door didn’t open I crossed as softly as I could and saw the reason. He was inside, so I waited to greet him when he came out. Then, I realized there was somebody else there. I could have cursed at being done again, but I waited. I heard Grebe come into the open air, and then I heard a scuffle and a grunt, and one of them fell. That’s all. I beat it hell for leather. I knew that with the postcards and my record, I was as good as hanged if I was caught. I hoofed it like mad to the Saracen. Esther put me up, and there I planned to stay a day or two till the heat was off, and then make off. But tell me this..”

  He paused and this time his face assumed a serious, puzzled look.

  “Tell me this...Grebe died and was found in the river. Did he somehow make his way to the ferry and get her half over the river and then fall overboard? How in blazes did he manage to do it, and why?”

  “He didn’t. He didn’t take over the ferry. He was dead in the yard of the hotel. Somebody carried him and threw him into the river just off the point behind the Arms, and somebody put on his cap and greatcoat, took the ferry half over, ran her into a sandbank, climbed overboard, and got away across the bank on this side.”

  “Why take over the ferry? Why not leave the body and beat it? It was a shocking risk.”

  “Not at all. It was dark, the murderer or his accomplice was Grebe’s build. All he had to do was put on Grebe’s uniform cap and coat. Grebe’s body was found without them and it puzzled us a lot at the start. He put on the clothes, went to the ferry in the dark, climbed the bridge, and...”

  “And Bob’s your uncle!”

  “Exactly! Anybody intelligent could handle the ferry after seeing her navigated for a bit. The reason why the murderer acted as he did was to get an alibi. Either he wanted it to look as if Grebe had been killed on the way over, or else after he landed on the other side. In the latter event, the murderer’s navigation went all haywire and he hit the bank. If Grebe hadn’t turned up at the ferry time, there’d have been a hue and cry, they’d have gone straight to the Arms to see if he’d had a drink, and might have found the body. By acting as he did, the criminal confused Grebe’s trail and gave himself a good hour to put things straight at Elmer’s Creek.”

  “But aren’t we forgetting something, Inspector?”

  “I’m coming to that, Leo. You mean, that whoever the murderer was, he was after you, not John Grebe. You were both of a size, wore the same uniform and, in the dark of the hotel yard, you got mixed up and the killer got the wrong man.”

  “That’s it. And you and Esther think he’ll have another go at me, and I’m safer in gaol.”

  “Right again. Now, who could be anxious to see you dead and silenced, Leo? What secrets do you hold about people round here?”

  Leo sat down and, for the first time, looked excited.

  “The only one I can think of is Grebe. Yet there must be somebody else here who thinks I know a lot, which I don’t. I don’t know a thing, except that Grebe and I were in a racket together before the war and I’m sure Grebe was acting for somebody else. In other words, there was a gang of them and, although I didn’t know any member of it except John Grebe, who was their mouthpiece, they can’t be sure.”

  “You must have been followed from the moment you arrived in Elmer’s Creek. They were on the lookout for you, because you’d sent the postcards and warned Grebe you were on the way. When they found they’d got the wrong man, they acted quickly. The first thing to do was to get the ferry off to time and, by Jove, they did it! What was between you and Grebe?”

  “It’s a long story. During the first war, Grebe was captain of a trooper in the Mediterranean and I was a junior officer. We got on very well together, but he drank heavily at the time and ran her aground off the North African coast. We tried to keep him off the bridge, because he wasn’t fit to navigate her, but he was stupid. There was an enemy raider about and our ship was a sitting target, stuck in the mud. The raider just shot us to kingdom come. Luckily, there weren’t many troops aboard, but about fifty men lost their lives and the ship was blown to smithereens. It affected Grebe’s mind a bit. He packed up after the inquiry and the fearful row that followed, and vanished. It turned out later that he came here, out of the way, and started afresh on a cockeyed sort of ferry job.”

  “You didn’t know where he was when you returned to England?”

  “No. I was anxious to see Grebe again and square accounts, and he was perhaps as anxious to hide himself in case I turned up one day. Meantime, his conscience must have bothered him about the way he’d treated me, because he started trying to find my children. He might have wanted to make amends to them. He found Lily, down-and-out in Southwark, brought her here, and did his best for her, little thinking I’d try to find them both if I ever came home. Or, maybe, he thought I was dead. I don’t know. I went to Gravesend when I got to this country, and the few people I knew left in Tenterden Street thought they’d seen a ghost when I appeared on the scene. They said somebody had been there inquiring about my family. I guessed it was Grebe. There was an old girl whom Lily visited from time to time. She knew Lily’s last job was at a cheap little cafe in Southwark. I went straight there and they told me Lily had packed up and gone to a place called Elmer’s Creek, where a man who’d been to see her at the cafe had got her a job. They gave me the address she’d left. I found out that way where Grebe was living.”

  “You changed your name when you changed your job?”

  “Yes. I even bought forged identity papers and master’s ticket. I didn’t want my family to know if I got into trouble in my risky exploits. You see, Lily thought I was a little tin god. Somehow, I didn’t fancy disappointing her.”

  “Walter Mills?”

  “You’ve worked quickly.”

  “I’ve got to work quickly. If I don’t solve this case over the weekend, my name will be mud. The local police think I’m making a real bloomer of it.”

  Leo threw back his head and laughed.

  “They want to hang me, no doubt.”

  “I wouldn’t put it past them. Well, do we get on with the remainder of your story, or do we wait till the rest of it arrives from Scotland Yard? My colleague’s waiting patiently for it over the phone just now. It should be here any minute.”

  “I might as well tell you firsthand, then. After the first war, I gave up the sea and trained as a Thames pilot. I was there till 1935, when Grebe turned up at my house and put a proposal to me. It was ve
ry hush-hush and nobody was to know. So I told the family I was still piloting on the Thames, when all the time I’d taken on a new job. It was a profitable one, believe me.”

  Leo lit his dead pipe again and Littlejohn refilled and lit his own.

  “Grebe had got the use of a private yacht, a beauty called the Euryanthe. He said he’d hired it, but it looks to me now that it belonged to a syndicate. How else did he get the money for the enterprise? We used to cross to the Continent. Germany, and there, at Hamburg, Bremen, and some other small ports on the Baltic, we picked up wealthy Jewish and other political refugees from the Nazis. They were people who couldn’t get exit papers and we smuggled them aboard. They paid well. But that was chicken feed. Some of the refugees had been granted exit papers, but weren’t allowed to bring their money out. A lot of them were wealthy. That’s where we came in.”

  A tap on the cell door and the constable was there.

  “The sergeant said to warn you, sir, that the court sits in half an hour and that the Chief Constable and magistrates will be here any time.”

  “Thanks, constable. We’ve nearly finished.”

  “You’ve got to make it short, Leo.”

  “Not much more, sir. You never saw such a ship as the Euryanthe. Grebe said she’d been used in America for liquor-running under prohibition. Hidey-holes everywhere. In places you’d never think of. The furnishings, doors, everything...they were all thin wood or sheet steel, with cavities. They held a fortune and we put gold in them. Gold in specially cast bars. There was quite a secret trade in them in Germany at the time. Grebe had picked the crew and they were a sound lot. He did the deal and took the money, I presume. I was master, I got my wages, and they were lavish. Later, I found out when it was too late, they made most of the money smuggling dope. The rest was a profitable little sideline which covered the main traffic. I was properly taken in! Served me right! We did half a dozen or more trips before the Germans grew wise to what we were doing.”

  “What happened?”

  “The Jerries must have smelled a rat for quite a long time. We’d turn up in port like a pleasure yacht with ‘the owner’ on board, who wasn’t the owner at all. He was Jack Liddell, and to make matters more real, he’d his wife with him. They were a good-looking pair and looked the part. That was how I first met Esther Liddell, and I don’t mind telling you we took a fancy to one another right away. Got up as the owner’s missus, she looked swell, I can tell you. And in those days, I reckon I wasn’t a bad-looking chap, either. The Russians and Germans between them have spoiled my beauty.”

  He chuckled as though it were a joke.

  “How did you know she kept the Saracen’s Head? Was it sheer luck you found her?”

  “No. During the yachting stunt, I got to know she lived at Pullar’s Sands, and was a native of the place. All those years I was a prisoner, I thought a lot of Esther. We’d plenty of time, you see, for brooding, and I swore if ever I got away, I’d find her again. A bit silly, perhaps, but you get that way in concentration camps. I set out to find her as soon as I got home and settled properly. I’d not the foggiest notion when I set out after Lily and Grebe, that Pullar’s Sands was the next village. I saw the signpost and you could have knocked me down with a feather. But it was quite understandable. Esther and Jack were locals whom Grebe took on to play the part of owners of the yacht, and with the rake-off they bought the pub. Then Jack got killed and Esther carried on. She’d got browned off and was hitting the bottle good and square when I found her. But we’ll soon put that right. When all this is over, I feel like settling down in a little country pub myself, with the sea right at the front door.”

  “And Esther minding the house?”

  “You’ve said it. She never forgot me and I must say, that after the time we had on the Euryanthe, I never forgot her or wanted another.”

  “Finish the tale, Leo. The JPs will be here any minute.”

  “As I was saying, the Germans began to rumble our game, and one night, the Gestapo stopped me in the street in Hamburg. I was taken to headquarters for questioning. Somebody had blown the gaff on me. I don’t know who did it, but I’ve a good idea. I shall keep my suspicions to myself till I’ve found out properly and then knock the living daylights out of him. If I tell you, you’ll only stop me.”

  “You’d better, you know. This is murder and we’ll deal with it.”

  Fowler didn’t seem to hear, but went on with his tale.

  “The Euryanthe was under way and off at the very time I was being questioned and knocked about. They were mad at missing getting the ship and they took it out of me. They half killed me. I can still show you the marks. The mate took the Euryanthe away and left me to stew, and I finished in a concentration camp. Hell on earth till the end of the war. But that wasn’t the end for me. I’d got friendly with another prisoner in the camp, and when the Russians invaded Germany and took over, it seems they wanted my pal for something, too. They took us both off and I think they must have murdered him; I never saw him again. I was shipped to another camp and I became one of the lost men till a couple of months ago, when the Russians suddenly started to be nice to me. I wondered what they were after. It seems they were trying to be friendly with England again. I didn’t do as badly as some prisoners in Russia. I was in a logging camp. It was hard, but we got our food and a proper bed, even if it was bug-ridden. I managed to keep healthy and that pleased me, because I was keen to get back one day and sort out things, especially who’d betrayed me. I started off by inquiring about the Euryanthe. She’d gone down at Dunkirk with her owner aboard. So that was a dead end.”

  “Her owner lived here...In Peshall.”

  “So, it was a syndicate then?”

  “Probably.”

  “To cut a long story short, I came after Lily, but I wrote to her first from London. She wrote back and, as innocent as the day, told me all about Grebe. So I set off north in slow stages and sent Grebe postcards on the way. I didn’t want to kill him. That seemed just silly, after I’d just got free from a hell on earth. I wanted to pester him and make his life a misery, to haunt him and upset him, till, in sheer desperation, he’d chuck himself in the river to end it. Somebody stepped in and did it for me.”

  “Who did betray you, Leo?”

  “The mate who took the Euryanthe away under my very nose, died in the war when his ship was torpedoed. But there were others. Esther said she and her husband were dead against leaving me in the lurch, but some of the crew were eager to get off, and they locked the pair of them in their cabin till the ship was well out at sea. I believe her. If I didn’t, I’d just as soon throw myself in the river and end up like Grebe.”

  The bobby was back.

  “May I interrupt again, sir? Court’s sitting.”

  Leo looked questioningly at Littlejohn.

  “Where do we go from here, sir?”

  “I’ll insist on a remand in custody, and you won’t say a word. You’ll probably come up again on Monday, and I hope for your sake and mine, we’re in the clear then.”

  “O.K. And thanks for everything. By the way, look after Esther till I’m in circulation again, will you? If someone’s so keen on curtains for me, they might, knowing I fetched up at her place, think she’s better out of the way, as well.”

  “I’d thought of that one, too. I’ll see to it.”

  And they both followed the constable into the courthouse.

  13 CHICKABIDDY

  “WE shall hold you responsible.”

  Littlejohn was sick of hearing it. The Elmer’s Creek magistrates didn’t turn up on the bench after all, and Sir Luke Messiah and a lady JP in tweeds, with a face like a horse, dealt with Leo Fowler. Littlejohn insisted on holding Leo on suspicion without bail. The Chief Constable was bound to support him, so Leo went back to his cell, where he immediately called for his lunch. Roast beef, carrots, and fried potatoes, with Yorkshire pudding and horseradish sauce! And apple fritters to follow. He insisted on the fritters.

  After l
unch, Littlejohn left for Solitude.

  The water was choppy in the river and waves were lapping round the stone head of the jetty. Some sailing boats were tacking their way out into the Farne Deep. From the village he could see breakers beating the lighthouse and covering it halfway up with spray.

  It was Saturday half-holiday and the ferries were full of trippers from Falbright. Young men and girls taking an afternoon out and men who owned little boats coming over to fish.

  The road through Peshall was busy. Motorists were enjoying the bright afternoon and cyclists were abroad. A stack of bicycles in front of the two cafes in the village and, inside, bare-legged men and girls were drinking soft drinks and buying ice-cream. Fothergill waved to Littlejohn from the door of the post office where he was handing over the noon collections.

  Between the village and Solitude, Littlejohn noticed a board, “Houses for Sale”, and another, “Desirable Building Plots”, with the name of an estate agent in Falbright. Roads and drains had apparently been laid out and then the venture had fallen flat. Heaps of old sand and concrete and a rusty mortar-mixer stood beside a shanty with a window broken. This must be the building estate started by Grebe and his friends and then they’d either struck a snag or buyers had fallen off.

  A man leaning over the gate watched Littlejohn as he examined the place from the road.

  “It’s the water stopped them,” he said, anxious to find somebody to talk to. “Quicksand and water under that land. When they dug the drains, the pipes sunk in the sand.”

  So the scheme was a flop and the little gang lost money. The Chief Inspector wondered whose idea it was and how the rest had reacted when it failed.

  The gates were shut at Solitude, but Littlejohn edged one of them open and closing it after him, made for the big house along the neat gravel drive. There was nobody about in the grounds; all the staff were on half-holiday. A thick hedge of tortured bushes on the sea side sheltered the garden which sprouted palms, eucalyptus and bamboos. Behind the house stood greenhouses in good condition and a summer-house made of logs.