A Dead Man in Malta

by Michael Pearce

  Paolo was silent.

  ‘It wasn’t like that with my father and mother.’ he said. ‘She was Maltese and he was Arab?’

  Paolo nodded. ‘That’s right, yes.’

  ‘I’m sorry it didn’t work out.’

  Paolo shrugged. ‘It just made it complicated, that’s all.’

  ‘It is that, yes,’ said Chantale: ‘complicated. You don’t know which side to lean to. I find myself agreeing with both, with both the French and the Arabs. And also disagreeing with them. That, maybe, is why I drifted away.’

  ‘Like me.’ said Paolo.

  ‘ - to England.’

  ‘Ah, England,’ said Paolo.

  ‘Don’t you find that?’ asked Chantale. ‘That you’re on both sides, Libyan and Maltese?’

  ‘Well, yes.’ said Paolo.

  ‘But not the British,’ Chantale laughed.

  ‘Not the British,’ said Paolo seriously.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because they’re British and not Maltese. And because they’ve taken over Malta. And because, well ...’ He shrugged. ‘They look down on us. Whichever you are. Maltese or Arab. I worked on a ship. A Navy ship. As a steward. And they treated me like dirt! “I am as good as you!” I said. But they didn’t see it like that. And in the end I had to go.’

  Seymour, walking round the pitch at half time to stretch his legs, came upon Cooper, Corke and Price.

  ‘What do you think of it, sir?’

  ‘Not bad.’ said Seymour. ‘Not bad at all.’

  ‘Better than usual,’ said Price. ‘We’ve been able to put a proper team out.’

  ‘Amethyst, I think you said?’

  ‘There’s three Amethyst players and they make a difference.’

  ‘Got to the finals in Hong Kong.’ said Price.

  ‘Not bad, then. But the other side’s not bad, either.’

  ‘Them Maltese is tricky devils!’

  ‘Do you see a lot of matches?’ asked Seymour.

  ‘Try to,’ said Corke.

  ‘Then you’re probably the blokes who can help me.

  There’s someone in the hospital that I’m interested in, who got injured in a match. I wondered if you saw it?’

  ‘What match was that, sir?’

  ‘I’m not sure of the match. The man was named Wilson.’

  ‘The one that was murdered, sir?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Bad do, that!’

  ‘He’d been injured in a match. I wondered if you saw it?’

  ‘We did, sir,’ said Price. ‘Corkey and me. Not him,’ nodding at Cooper.

  ‘I was somewhere else,’ said Cooper, ‘doing something much more interesting.’

  He laughed.

  ‘And not too far away,’ said Price, laughing, too.

  ‘You could have come along,’ said Cooper.

  ‘We were more interested in the football,’ said Corke. ‘But, yes, we saw the match, sir.’

  ‘Did you see how he got injured?’

  ‘It was a foul. Their bloke went in on him.’

  ‘Hard,’ said Corke. ‘And late.’

  ‘It was meant,’ said Price.

  ‘He knew what he was doing when he went in like that,’ said Corke.

  ‘A bit of ill feeling, was there?’

  ‘More than a bit.’

  ‘Previous history? They’d played against each other before?’

  ‘It wasn’t that,’ said Price.

  ‘No?’

  ‘He was a mate of the other one.’

  ‘The other one?’

  ‘The one Bob got involved with.’

  ‘Bob?’

  ‘Bob Turner. Him who had his jaw smashed.’

  ‘Ah, yes. The one in the other ward.’

  ‘That’s right. He got murdered, too.’

  ‘Bastards!’

  ‘Sorry, can I get this straight? The one who went in on Wilson was a mate of the one who broke Turner’s jaw?’

  ‘It might not have been him who broke it. But he was there, all right, and the one who went in on Wilson was there with him. I saw them talking when I went in.’

  They were mates?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And what you’re saying is that Wilson’s injury in the match was a carry-on from the fight in the bar?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So it all comes back to what happened in the bar?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right.’

  ‘And what actually started it in the bar?’

  ‘Well, we was in the bar, and Terry had just joined us - ’

  ‘After my recreation,’ said Cooper.

  ‘ - and this little bloke comes in, and he sees Terry, and he stops dead. Then he says something to one of the other Maltese. And the Maltese says something to Bob, and Bob says something back, and that’s how it all started.’

  ‘With the little bloke?’

  ‘That’s right. I reckon he’s a trouble-maker, because after that we didn’t see him - ’

  ‘He’d gone for his knife,’ said Corke. ‘I heard him say it.’

  ‘Well, I didn’t hear anything because by that time it was a general barney.’

  ‘That was when Bob got hit.’ said Cooper.

  ‘I did see that.’ said Price. ‘At least, I saw him go down.’

  ‘He wasn’t up for it, really, because by that time he’d already had a skinful.’

  ‘He wasn’t big in it at all, and yet he was the one who got his jaw broke!’

  ‘And that wasn’t the end of it, either.’ said Cooper. ‘Because I don’t reckon they left it at that.’

  ‘Meaning?’ said Corke.

  ‘They went after them even when they was in hospital, didn’t they?’

  The half-time interval came to an end and Paolo and Luigi rejoined their band. It struck up and, soon after, the second half began. The St John Ambulance stand had a steady, though small, trickle of visitors. Most of them seemed to be children with bruised knees. A few women had had ‘turns’. There was nothing serious; no stabbings on this occasion. Feelings, thought Chantale, were not very high, despite the sentiments that Paolo and Luigi had given utterance to.

  And yet the match was closely fought. Coming towards the end, the score was two-all. The band raised its volume, the Maltese supporters urged on their team to a final effort. But the Navy held out. Two-all it remained, and that was the score at the final whistle.

  The crowd began to disperse.

  ‘Now’s the time,’ said Inspector Lucca, ‘if there is going to be any trouble.’

  He stood on a box to see better.

  ‘All right so far,’ he said with satisfaction.

  Most of the sailors had prudently left just before the end. There was no show of defiance from either side. The players had left the field shaking hands. There seemed to have been no ‘incidents’.

  Cooper, Corke and Price, typically, had not left before the end. Seymour caught sight of them pushing towards the exit, but peacefully. They appeared to be talking animatedly, but, he guessed, about the game, going over key moments.

  On the far side of the pitch the Birgu band was breaking up. After a final blaze of music they had started to pack up their instruments. They began to melt into the crowd.

  Seymour looked around for Chantale. She was helping the St John ladies to pack up their stall. He went across to help carry.

  They made their way towards the exit, too. It was a small gap in a fence and the crowd funnelled together to get through it.

  Seymour, carrying the Ambulance’s small card-tables, was approaching the gap when he saw Cooper, Corke and Price ahead of him. The crowd had slowed down almost to a stop and they were awaiting their turn peacefully.

  Suddenly, there was an interruption in the flow. People began to move aside and there were a few shouts.

  He saw Lucca pushing his way through the crowd.

  The crowd swirled and then parted and in the gap he saw the three seamen again, no longer trying to get out bu
t drawn up together and standing shoulder to shoulder in a short line.

  Opposite them was a little group of Maltese and in the group, shouting angrily, his face contorted with rage, was Luigi.

  ‘You watch it, mate!’ Seymour heard Cooper say.

  ‘I will kill him! I will kill him!’ Luigi was shouting.

  ‘It’s that little bloke again!’ said Price, surprised.

  ‘What’s your problem, mate?’ said Cooper dangerously.

  ‘I will kill you!’

  ‘You’ll have a job!’

  People were trying to pull Luigi away.

  There were warning cries.

  ‘He’s got a knife!’

  The crowd broke away, and suddenly there was Luigi on his own, going towards Cooper with a knife.

  ‘Watch it, mate!’ said Corke urgently. ‘He’s got a knife!’

  ‘Use your boots, Terry!’ cried Price.

  They pushed forward beside Cooper.

  Luigi, though, was on his own making short stabbing motions in the air with his knife. Suddenly, he lunged forward.

  And was caught, equally suddenly, by someone who put an arm round his neck.

  ‘I will kill him! I will kill you - ’ shouted Luigi, struggling to get free.

  ‘You’re not going to kill anybody,’ said Inspector Lucca.

  ‘Put your boot in, Terry!’ cried Corke. ‘Now! While you’ve got a chance!’

  ‘Cut it out!’ shouted Seymour. ‘You three! Stand back!’

  ‘I’ll bloody get him!’ said Cooper.

  ‘He’s under arrest!’ shouted Seymour, pushing the card-tables before him. ‘You keep out of it!’

  ‘He’s under arrest, Terry!’ said Price, warningly.

  ‘I will kill him!’ shouted Luigi, struggling in Lucca’s grasp.

  ‘Where the hell are you, Rico?’ cried Lucca.

  ‘Right here, boss! Right here!’ said someone forcing their way through the crowd.

  ‘Help me with this crazy bugger!’ said Lucca.

  ‘And you lot get out!’ shouted Seymour. ‘Get out! Get out of the ground! At once!’

  He pushed the table between them and Luigi.

  The seamen wavered. Then Cooper shrugged.

  ‘All right, then,’ he said. ‘This time.’

  The other two linked arms with him and began to move away.

  ‘Let me get at him!’ shouted Luigi. ‘I will kill him!’

  Cooper stopped and made a movement as if he was going to come back.

  ‘Keep going!’ shouted Seymour. ‘You other two, get him out!’

  ‘Come on, Terry,’ Price urged him.

  They pulled him, unwilling, away.

  Suddenly, Lucca cried out.

  ‘Boss!’ shouted Rico.

  Luigi fell heavily to the ground.

  ‘The bastard got me!’ said Lucca, surprised.

  ‘I’ve bloody got him!’ said Rico. He bent over Luigi and Seymour heard the clink of the handcuffs going on.

  ‘Get the knife!’ whispered Lucca.

  ‘I’ve got it, boss,’ said Rico. ‘I’ve got him, too. Boss, are you all right?’

  ‘I’m all right,’ said Lucca. ‘It’s nothing. But I’ll remember this, Luigi, you daft bastard,’ he said.

  Luigi, from the ground, began to whimper.

  ‘Sorry, Benito!’ he said. ‘Sorry! I didn’t mean to get you.’

  ‘Well, you bloody got me, Luigi,’ said Lucca. ‘And I shall remember that! Get this daft bastard away!’ he ordered.

  Rico heaved Luigi on to his feet.

  ‘Luigi,’ he said. ‘You don’t have a knife any more. But I have a truncheon. And if I have any trouble from you, I’ll beat the hell out of you! Now, get going!’

  He pulled Luigi off through the crowd.

  ‘Jesus!’ said someone, as they went through the gate. ‘What was all that about?’

  ‘Can we have a look at that, Benito?’ said one of the St John ladies.

  ‘It’s nothing, it’s nothing!’ protested Inspector Lucca.

  ‘We’ve got someone here who knows about knife wounds. Let her have a look at it.’

  ‘I don’t - ’ began Chantale, but allowed herself to be pulled gently to one side, out of the way of the crowd. Lucca was pulled, too, still protesting.

  Someone in the crowd found a chair and pushed the Inspector into it. Chantale bent over him and began to examine the wound.

  ‘I can get him over to the hospital.’ said Umberto, who had suddenly appeared. ‘It’s just round the corner.’

  ‘That would be a good idea,’ said Chantale. ‘It would be best to get a doctor to look at it. I just want to stop the bleeding.’

  ‘Pad, Miss de Lissac,’ said one of the St John ladies.

  ‘Bless you, ladies!’ said the Inspector. ‘I always knew, Margarita, that you weren’t just a waste of time!’

  ‘I wish I could say the same about you, Benito!’ retorted Margarita, proffering the pad. ‘Still getting yourself into these schoolboy scrapes! At your age!’

  Chapter Ten

  Early the next morning Seymour went to the Police Headquarters to find out how Lucca was.

  ‘He’s all right.’ said the man at the desk. ‘He’s a tough old bird. It’ll take more than this to kill him. In fact, he’s come in as usual. He’s in his office. Why don’t you go along and see him?’

  Seymour found him sitting behind his desk.

  ‘No, I’m all right.’ he said. ‘It’s sore but not painful. He did an incompetent job, as usual. Waved it around but missed all the vital places. He probably never really meant to hit them anyway.’

  ‘I admire your broad-mindedness, Lucca.’

  The Inspector shrugged.

  ‘Well, I know the little bastard,’ he said. ‘He’s mostly piss and wind. Never actually does anything when he gets to the point.’

  ‘He stabbed you, though.’

  ‘He probably didn’t even know it. When he’s put on the spot, he waves that knife around. They all do round here. But it doesn’t mean anything. It’s to frighten people. More than people frighten him, which is quite a lot. Especially in the case of that big sailor, who is about twice the size of Luigi. So when he went in on him, Luigi pulled his knife.’

  ‘I don’t think he actually went in on him. I was watching them. They were leaving peacefully.’

  ‘Were they? What the hell was Luigi doing, then?’

  ‘I think I know.’ said Seymour.

  Luigi, small before, seemed to have shrivelled even since the previous day. He was sitting on his bed in the cell, his head in his hands, but jumped up when he saw Lucca.

  ‘Benito!’

  He rushed forward and clutched him.

  ‘Benito,’ he said, looking at him anxiously. ‘You’re all right? I didn’t really look when you came in before, I was in such a state. But you really are all right, are you? Jesus. I wouldn’t have - you’ve got to believe me, Benito, I would never - Benito, I’ll light a candle for you!’

  ‘Well, thanks, Luigi,’ said Lucca.

  ‘I really will! Two!’

  ‘Now, steady, Luigi!’

  ‘And ask God to forgive me my sins.’

  ‘Well, that’s a good idea, Luigi.’

  ‘Even the thought! I’ll ask him to forgive me the thought. What I was doing, I don’t know. He made me mad, that Englishman. Just the sight of him. I would have killed him, but I would not do anything to hurt you, Benito, I really wouldn’t!’

  ‘Well, thank you, Luigi.’

  ‘You believe me, don’t you?’

  ‘All right, then, yes, I believe you.’

  ‘Oh, thank you, Benito! Thank you!’

  ‘I believe you didn’t mean to do it, Luigi. But you bloody nearly did do it.’

  ‘I lost my head. When I saw that big Englishman - ’

  ‘Yes, well, that’s not right, either. You can’t go round sticking people with a knife. Whoever they are.’

  Luigi hung his head.

&nb
sp; ‘Luigi,’ said Seymour, ‘exactly why did you want to kill the big Englishman?’

  Luigi shook his head slowly from side to side and did not reply.

  ‘Come on, Luigi,’ said Lucca. ‘Why did you want to kill him?’

  Luigi continued to shake his head and said nothing.

  ‘It was your girl, wasn’t it?’ said Seymour. ‘He had gone with your girl.’

  Luigi’s eyes flashed.

  ‘I will kill him!’ he said.

  ‘Tell us about this girl.’ said Lucca.

  ‘She was my girl.’ said Luigi. ‘Before she was his!’

  Lucca shook his head sorrowfully.

  ‘It happens, Luigi,’ he said. ‘It happens!’

  ‘Did you know what went on in the hospital?’ said Seymour. ‘In the cupboard?’

  Luigi’s eyes flashed again.

  ‘It was wrong!’ he said. ‘She was my girl. She shouldn’t have gone with others.’

  ‘What do you think I was doing in there?’ said Cooper aggressively.

  ‘I know what you were doing in there,’ said Seymour. ‘I just want to know the rest.’

  ‘The rest?’

  ‘You were in the cupboard enjoying yourself while your mate was being killed next door!’

  ‘No, I wasn’t! I’d got out by then.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  Cooper went silent.

  ‘How did you know?’

  ‘I didn’t know. Not at the time. I worked it out later.’

  ‘You must have been in there when it was happening.’

  Cooper’s face worked.

  ‘Christ!’ he said. ‘Christ!’

  ‘Did you hear anything?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘See anything?’

  ‘No! Christ, if I had ...’

  ‘If you had?’

  ‘I’d have fixed him. I’d have fixed him good. But I didn’t see anything, anything. I just crawled out and got out of the place fast.’

  ‘And you didn’t see anything?’

  ‘No, nothing!’

  ‘What time did you go into the cupboard with her?’

  ‘How do I know?’

  ‘Just tell me!’

  ‘A bit after midnight.’ said Cooper sullenly.

  ‘Was there a nurse on duty?’

  ‘She had her back turned - Suzie knows the ropes. She went in first, then beckoned to me. I went on hands and knees, so I was below the level of the beds and the nurse couldn’t see me.’