Death in Little Venice

by Leo McNeir

  “That depends. We can start with milk and sugar, if you like.”

  The tramp looked suspicious. “Depends on what?”

  “What can you tell me about the man found in the canal before Christmas?” Anne returned with a tray that Marnie took from her and placed on top of the hatch.

  “You can’t be the law.” He still looked suspicious.

  “The law? No, I’m not the law. In fact I was their prime suspect until someone here corroborated my story. I’m the one who found him. Are you … Dodge?”

  The tramp took a step back. “What's your game?”

  “No game. The police told me there was a witness whose name was Dodge. They said he’d drowned at Christmas in Limehouse Cut.”

  “Well, they don't know everythin’ do they?”

  “You’re not dead.”

  “If you say so.”

  “But you are Dodge.” The tramp looked at Marnie and said nothing. “You told the police you saw me?”

  He narrowed his eyes, sizing her up. Eventually he said: “Yeah. I told the law you just come along and found ’im.”

  “So you were my alibi.”

  Dodge looked pointedly at Marnie. “So you owe me.”

  “Probably, but first what can you tell me?”

  “You was on that boat … posh bird wiv a lovely arse.” Anne put a hand to her mouth, trying not to laugh

  “How do you know that?” Marnie said. “How can you be sure?”

  “You ’ad that little short jacket thing on. It only came down as far as –”

  Marnie and Anne smiled openly. “I meant what made you say I was posh?”

  “I ’eard yer, didn't I? You was on the phone. I could ’ear yer plain as anythin’.”

  “What did I say?”

  “You was saying 'Come on, come on!', all urgent, like. I thought you was talking to the bloke in the water till I saw the phone. I knew he wasn't goin’ to do nothin’.”

  “You heard me saying that?”

  “Yeah. You said it over an’ over. I could ’ear yer clear as anything.”

  “And the police took a statement from you?”

  “Law didn’t believe me. Said I just made it up to stop ’em suspectin’ me. Tried to make out it was dark, said I was drunk.”

  “Well, it was dark,” Marnie said.

  “An’ I was drunk.”

  Marnie smiled. “Just like the police to try and twist everything.”

  Dodge drank half the mug of coffee in one go and began eating. Anne had spread thick butter and marmalade on a slice of toast. He ate quickly but neatly, taking care not to drop crumbs. He wiped his mouth on the gingham napkin when he had finished. “The law said no-one’d believe my evidence. Said the defence’d make mincemeat out o’ me.” He invested this last statement with special meaning, looking at the plate of mince pies. Anne took the hint and passed them over. The atmosphere was improving by the minute.

  “Please help yourself,” Marnie said. To her surprise, Dodge lifted the plate to her first. She took one, and he offered the plate to Anne. The three of them had breakfast together like friends, Marnie and Anne perched on the roof of the boat with their legs dangling over the side, Dodge sitting on a mat on the sloping bank.

  Marnie swallowed a piece of mince pie. “I believe what you said. You must’ve been the nearest thing they had to a witness. So something made you want to keep out of it. Then, when the man was found in Limehouse Cut, you let it be known that it was you.”

  Dodge nodded and took another mince pie. “Don’t remember the last time I ’ad breakfast made for me by a woman … two women.” He winked at Anne, who smiled back at him. “Even if one of ’em is just a skinny bint wiv no tits.” Marnie almost choked on her mince pie, embarrassed for Anne, but Anne spluttered with laughter. “Well, nearly none,” Dodge added generously.

  Anne spoke quietly to Marnie, inclining her head towards the cabin. “George Stubbs?”

  Dodge at once looked suspicious again. “Who? Who’s there?” He made as if to get up.

  “No.” Marnie raised her hand. “There’s no-one there. A neighbour gave us some bacon. He’s a butcher. That’s all.”

  “Would you like a bacon sandwich?” Anne said.

  “You serious?”

  Anne smiled and went below.

  “Dodge, tell me what you saw, or think you saw. Please.”

  The tramp sat in silence for several seconds, narrowing his eyes. Marnie waited. When he spoke, his voice was distant. “I’d been on cider. Does yer ’ead in, that does. Strong stuff. There was two of ’em come along. Stood talkin’ over the other side under the bridge. Couldn’t see much, wasn’t really lookin’, just ’eard voices at first.”

  “Raised voices? Were they arguing? Was it a quarrel? A mugging, perhaps?”

  Dodge shook his head. “No. Just talkin’, quiet like.”

  “Could you hear what they were saying?”

  “No. They weren’t arguin’. Weren’t jokin’ neither.”

  “Did you see their faces?”

  “No. Too dark. Shadows under the bridge.”

  “Did anybody else come by?”

  “Not after a while. They lock the gate after it’s dark. Nice after that. Quiet. No-one around.”

  “This isn’t much to go on,” Marnie said.

  “Tell you what. They ’ad some booze on ’em. Talkin’ of which …”

  Marnie frowned. “Dodge, this man was an MP. He’d hardly be out drinking in the street. It does seem a bit unlikely. Are you sure you saw them drinking? It was getting dark.”

  “See? Now you sound just like the fuzz. They didn’t believe me, didn’t want to. You’re just the same.”

  “No, I’m not. More than anybody I need to believe you. It’s just that the person who was killed wasn’t the kind of man to be out here in the dark drinking on the towpath. It just wasn’t in keeping with his character. You must see that. I do want to believe you, but what you’re telling me seems odd.”

  “But it’s true. That’s what ’appened. Look, it was like this, right? I got up to have a … well, to go over there by that tree. I looked over, didn’t want ’em to see me. I’m entitled to some privacy. They didn’t notice, but I could see them and I saw their ’eads goin’ back, ‘eard ‘em say ‘cheers’ or somethin’ like that.” Marnie frowned again. “Look, love, you can believe it or not. It makes no odds to me. But I know when I see people drinkin’ booze out of a bottle, which reminds me again. This is nice coffee. Got anything to go with it?”

  “Maybe. I’ll have a look. But tell me everything first.”

  “That was it, honest.”

  Marnie sighed. “Think carefully. People don’t just casually fall into a canal for no reason. Was there a scuffle?”

  “Not really.”

  “Did you hear him fall in the water? There must’ve been quite a splash.”

  “No splash, maybe a cough or a grunt. That’s all. Then a bit later I saw you come along on the boat. It wasn’t this one, was it?”

  “No. You’re right, it wasn’t. But did you see the man actually go into the water?”

  “No. I weren’t watching ’em the ’ole time. I keep to meself.”

  “Tell me anything you can remember about them, anything at all.”

  Dodge thought back. “They was toffs. Posh voices like yours. Couldn’t ’ear what they were sayin’, but they definitely ’ad posh voices.”

  “And they didn’t fight.”

  “No. Just chattin’, like. Definitely not fightin’.”

  Anne came out with a bacon sandwich on a plate, uncertain which caused Dodge the greater surprise, the food or being served it on a real plate. While he ate, Marnie went below. She re-appeared to find Anne and Dodge in conversation about Randall.

  “Do you ever get round Brackley way in your travels?” Typical of Anne, she thought. She can make polite small talk with a tramp.

  “No. I stick around ’ere.”

  “Well, if ever you do decide to
go that way, look in on Randall Hughes in Brackley. He’s got a really nice place to stay for a while. You’d like it.”

  “Right.” But Dodge was rapidly losing interest as he saw what Marnie was carrying. She held up a half bottle of Scotch. He stared at it. “That’s a single malt. You’re never givin’ me that.”

  “Here you are.” She passed it to him, and it went straight into his pocket. “Late Christmas present.” Anne stared at Marnie but said nothing.

  “You’re a real mate, love,” said Dodge, grinning.

  Marnie held out something else. “Will you do something for me?”

  The grin disappeared. The eyes narrowed. “Is this the catch?”

  “No catch. This is my business card and this is a phonecard. If you think of anything else, anything that might help me know what happened that evening, I want you to give me a ring on those numbers. Keep trying till you reach me. Will you do that for me? My late Christmas present?”

  Dodge stared at the cards for several seconds. “All right.”

  *

  It was after they had gone through the tunnel and emerged in Little Venice before Anne spoke. “Why did the police think he’d drowned? Why wasn’t he identified properly?”

  Marnie shrugged. “Just another vagrant, I suppose, a statistic. It’s not as if they were interested in him. He was no use to their case as far as they were concerned.”

  “But he really was a witness.”

  “He certainly was.”

  “But not a very good one, though?”

  “What do you mean? His testimony changes everything. It proves it can’t have been an accident. At least I think it does. There were definitely two people there. It doesn’t sound much like an accident to me.”

  “But do you believe what he said about them drinking? It didn’t seem right. And the police didn’t believe him.”

  “Correction: the police didn’t think they could make his evidence stand up in court. I think that’s different. Why would he lie? He had nothing to gain, or lose come to that, by saying what he saw.”

  “But he could’ve been so fuddled by drink that he couldn’t see properly,” Anne suggested. She was steering Rumpole very slowly in mid-channel past the moored boats.

  Marnie was leaning against the hatch. “I think he could see all right. He saw what I was wearing.” They smiled at the memory. “And don’t forget, he remembered what I said on the mobile. He even recognised that I was on a different boat.”

  “Do you think someone tried to scare him off?”

  “Doubt it,” Marnie said. “Or why would he have come back?”

  “He was telling me he liked it there. Said it was sheltered and safe on that side of the canal. But why didn’t he see what happened?”

  “It’s probably very simple. He just wasn’t looking, that’s why. He didn’t know he was going to witness something.”

  “No, that’s right. He probably wanted to get back to his cider. Actually, Marnie, I was a bit surprised, about the whisky.”

  “Surprised? I know it was Roger’s, but I’ll get another bottle to replace it.”

  “No, I meant that you gave it to Dodge.”

  “Ah, do you mean you were surprised or shocked?”

  “To be honest …”

  “I know. You think he’ll drink himself to death.”

  “Well …”

  “I realise that, but frankly what difference will it make to his quality of life? One half bottle won’t do any more harm than the stuff he’ll be drinking anyway.”

  Anne sighed. “I suppose not.”

  “Look at it like this, Anne. You wouldn’t have been shocked if I’d given it to someone else who liked a drop of scotch, who may well have a tendency to drink too much, someone like an MP, for example. But it seems different because he’d be dressed in a smart suit.”

  Anne looked thoughtful as she handed the tiller back to Marnie. They turned under the bridge by the old toll house to come left round Browning Island and take the arm back to their gloomy mooring.

  *

  Wednesday 11 January – afternoon

  Waiting to be shown to their table, Marnie whispered to Anne: “Ralph accused me of rubber-necking when we were in the Commons.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Twisting your head round to look at famous people like the Prime Minister and members of the Cabinet.”

  Anne looked puzzled. “Why are you telling me this, oh, is that what I’m doing?”

  “No, not really. I couldn’t blame you if you did. It’s not every day we have tea at the Ritz. But your eyes have grown two sizes bigger and they are out on stalks.”

  Anne giggled. “I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s so …”

  “Opulent?”

  “Absolutely. I’ll try to push my eyes back in.”

  A waiter led them across the restaurant, Anne determined to look in front of her, noticing that one or two heads turned in their direction as they walked by. She could understand why. Marnie looked stunning in a dove grey suit and pink shirt, the new hairstyle revealing simple pearl ear-rings in a gold setting. She had noticed a look on Ralph’s face when out with Marnie, a blend of pride and confidence, and she knew how he felt. It did not occur to Anne to feel jealous.

  Anthony James and Priscilla Barnes stood up as they approached, kissing Marnie on both cheeks, shaking hands with Anne. The waiter moved chairs for them to sit, handed them menus and withdrew.

  Priscilla said to Anne, “I understand you’re the organiser in the team.”

  “Marnie teases me because I write lists of things to do, but it helps me not to forget, and it’s fun ticking off the jobs when they’re done.”

  “So you’re the office manager,” said Anthony.

  Marnie said, “Anne is training to be a designer. She’ll be going to college in the autumn. I give it five years before she’s running the firm.”

  “It’s really kind of you to let me come with Marnie.”

  “Our pleasure,” said Anthony. “Have you been here before?”

  “Gosh, no. It’s amazing. In fact, this has been a day of real contrasts.”

  “In what way?” Priscilla asked. As they spoke, the waiter re-appeared beside them.

  Anne said: “Well, we had breakfast on a boat in the park with a tramp.” They laughed.

  The waiter bent forward and spoke quietly to Anne. “Breakfast with a tramp, miss, tea with a knight of the realm.”

  “Knight of the realm?” Marnie said. Anthony made a modest, self-deprecating gesture and asked the waiter to bring them all the full afternoon tea.

  Priscilla smiled. “Anthony was given a knighthood in the New Year's Honours List.”

  “Oh god,” Marnie said, “how embarrassing. I didn’t know. I’ve been too pre-occupied with other things to take in the news these past few weeks. Congratulations.”

  “I think we all understand you've had other things on your mind,” Priscilla said, “and you've been in the news yourself, too.”

  “Almost in the news. My car being blown up, and then part of my head being the ‘mystery woman’ in the newspaper.”

  “So it was you,” Anthony said.

  “Yes, but nothing like what they were suggesting. Malcolm Grant was going off to a meeting. That’s all it was.”

  Priscilla looked genuinely sympathetic. “You must have had a very trying time, Marnie. We know what it can be like when the media are after you. We’ve seen it happen to people we know in the past.”

  “I think I’ve got off lightly so far. Strictly speaking, we’re in hiding just now. Anyway, you two are among the whole country’s favourites. The press are always nice to you. And this latest news must make you very happy.”

  Anthony smiled and shrugged. “It’s rather humbling, actually, when it happens to you. You realise a lot of it has been good luck. The world is full of actors, most of them out of work.” The waiter interrupted the flow of conversation by arriving with a trolley laden down with food and pot
s of tea.

  When they had settled down again, Anne asked: “What happens when you get a knighthood? I mean, how do they tell you about it?”

  “The first intimation I got was a phone call from Downing Street. A man asked if I were offered an honour would I accept it. I was so stunned I just said yes, of course. After he hung up, I realised I hadn’t even asked what it would be. A week later a letter arrived offering me the knighthood. I wrote back to accept and that was it.”

  “Now we have to wait to be given a date for the ceremony,” Priscilla said.

  “So you’re not quite a knight of the realm yet?” Marnie said.

  “That depends.”

  “On what?”

  Anthony smiled. “How desperately I need a table in a restaurant when they say it’s full. I think that’s probably the main advantage.”

  “Plus I get a new dress for the visit to the Palace,” Priscilla added, also smiling.

  “When did you first get the news?” Marnie asked.

  “About a month before Christmas. We were just starting to rehearse the Noël Coward.”

  “So you knew all about it when we first met at the Commons.”

  “Yes.”

  Marnie stirred the lemon in her tea, but something was bothering her, and she had to be asked twice before accepting a scone from Priscilla.

  *

  Wednesday 11 January – evening

  They double-checked everything around Rumpole before settling in for the evening. The MG was snug under its coverings. They opened up the caravan to make sure it was empty and untouched. They walked round the boat, including the gunwales, to make sure all the windows and hatches were secure. Armed with a glass of wine, Marnie sat back in Roger’s favourite armchair to glance through a clutch of design magazines, while Anne reclined on the sofa looking at photographs that Marnie had taken for their projects. A tape of Handel’s Water Music from Roger’s small collection was playing softly in the background.

  Anne looked up. “Cottage number one looks really good, doesn’t it?” She held up one of the photos that Marnie had brought to show Philip and the others.

  “Mm. I’m quite pleased with it.”

  “The front door looks brilliant in that dark green.”

  “Not too Laura Ashley?”

  “No, just right. It sets off the light colour of the stone.”