A Dead Man in Malta

by Michael Pearce

  ‘You’d done it before?’

  ‘Yes. I’d done it before.’

  ‘With the others? After you’d done the visiting?’

  ‘Sometimes. But not usually in the cupboard. She knew other places. She’s an artful bitch, she is.’

  ‘In daytime? After you’d done the rounds of the wards?’

  ‘Sometimes.’

  ‘But this was at night. How did she know you were looking for her?’

  ‘She works in the laundry. We sort of looked in earlier.’

  ‘But she did not do it there?’

  ‘No. She came out.’

  ‘Let’s go back to the night Wilson was murdered. Was there anything different about it that night? From the other nights?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You went in just after midnight and you were in there for how long? About an hour?’

  ‘Less. It doesn’t take long.’

  ‘And then you came out.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘On your hands and knees?’

  ‘Yes. It was dark. They dim the lights, see, at night. There’s a sort of light there, but it’s by the nurse, and she’s usually sitting at her table.’

  ‘You saw her?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And nothing else?’

  ‘Just the usual. People sleeping.’

  ‘Was anyone awake?’

  ‘Not as far as I know. Except, perhaps, that bugger, Vasco, who’s always got his eye on you. But I was looking out for him and kept my head down till I was out of the ward. Look, there was nothing different that time. Nothing! It was quiet as the grave. It was later, later, I’m telling you, that it happened. By then I was out of the place.’

  ‘How did you get out of the hospital?’

  ‘There’s a coal chute. Suzie told me about it.’

  ‘That’s in the boiler room. Did anyone see you while you were on your way there?’

  ‘Only that daft old bugger who’s always drifting around, and he doesn’t count.’

  ‘Dr Malia?’

  ‘Yes, that’s his name. He’s always around.’

  ‘And he saw you?’

  ‘Well - he was standing there, right by the door to the boiler room. I’d have given him the go-by if I could, but I couldn’t. He was standing there, right by the door. He seemed to be sort of asleep. Standing up. I waited there for quite a while and then I reckoned that he was asleep. So I just went past him. And he didn’t say anything or do anything. Just looked at me. But I don’t reckon he saw me. His eyes were open, yes, but I don’t know that he was seeing much. I reckon he was asleep on his feet. It’s like that sometimes when a bloke’s on watch. He’s standing there, all right, but he’s dropped off.’

  ‘He didn’t mean to,’ said Suzie. ‘I’ll swear!’ she said earnestly.

  ‘He swears that, too,’ said Lucca unimpressed. ‘I went along to see him this morning when I got in. It was all I could do to stop him falling on his knees and begging my forgiveness.’

  ‘He means it,’ Suzie assured him. ‘He really means it!’

  ‘Oh, sure, he means it,’ said Lucca. ‘But that won’t stop him trying it again.’

  ‘It’s all my fault,’ said Suzie penitently.

  ‘Yes, it is,’ said Lucca.

  ‘I wasn’t really serious about him,’ said Suzie.

  ‘Which one was this?’ asked Lucca.

  ‘The Navy. I don’t know their names. The big one.’

  ‘Cooper?’ said Seymour.

  ‘Yes, I think that’s his name.’

  ‘The one who was with you that night?’

  ‘I don’t like to think that.’

  ‘You said, and he said, that he left before - before anything happened.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Suzie. ‘That’s right.’

  ‘He says he left the hospital at once.’

  Suzie was silent. Then she said: ‘I expect he did. I’m sure he did. Look, I told you: they were his mates.’

  ‘There wasn’t anything between them, was there? Between Cooper and Wilson? The one in the bed? Over you?’

  ‘No, no. I never went with the one in the bed. I knew him, of course, but just to talk to.’

  ‘What about the others? There were others, weren’t there?’

  Suzie nodded.

  ‘Take those three for a start. There was nothing between them and the two who were murdered, was there?’

  ‘No! They were their mates! And they used to visit them!’

  ‘And they didn’t mind about you?’

  ‘No, it was all free and easy.’

  ‘There was nothing that might have led Cooper - the big one - to stay behind that night?’

  ‘No,’ said Suzie. ‘Absolutely not.’

  ‘What about others?’

  ‘There weren’t many,’ said Suzie humbly. ‘It had got down to those three. There had been more, I admit that. The Navy has looked after me, and I like to look after the Navy.’

  ‘So why are you down to three?’

  ‘The others have gone back to sea. Also, I don’t do patients. It’s bad for them, the sisters say. And there haven’t been any other ones. At least, not in the hospital.’

  ‘But outside?’

  ‘Well - maybe. Occasionally.’

  ‘And others, not sailors?’

  ‘Oh, I never see them in the hospital. It’s always outside.’

  ‘Luigi?’

  ‘Not even him. I mean, he’s different. He’s my bloke.’

  ‘Did he come to see you in the hospital?’

  ‘Once or twice. But he doesn’t like the hospital. It’s too big for him.’

  ‘Does he know about the coal chute?’

  ‘Well, he does, but he doesn’t like that, either. It’s too dirty for him. He’s funny like that. Over his clothes, I mean. He likes to keep them clean.’

  She looked at Lucca. ‘I’ve brought some clean ones in for him. That’s all right, isn’t it?’

  He nodded.

  ‘That’s okay,’ she said. ‘I’ll leave them at the front desk.’

  ‘Now, listen, my girl,’ said Lucca, in a fatherly way, ‘I know how it is with you and the Navy. They’ve done right by you, and you want to do right by them. But you can’t go on like this. It’s not fair to Luigi. If he really is your bloke.’

  ‘You see, I’m not really sure that he is,’ said Suzie. ‘Not really sure. He’s nice but I’m not sure I want to be with him for ever and ever.’

  ‘I appreciate that. But it’s landed him in a mess, hasn’t it? Not least over me.’

  ‘You won’t be hard on him, though, will you, Benito?’

  ‘It’s not up to me.’ said Lucca. This has got to come to court. I can’t just forget about it, because too many people saw.’

  Suzie hung her head.

  ‘It’s all my fault,’ she said. ‘Can’t you tell them that, Benito?’

  ‘Yes, but you didn’t have a knife, did you? All right, all right!’ he said, and held up his hand. ‘I might be able to put in a word. But that doesn’t affect the others, does it?’

  ‘What others is this, Benito?’ said Suzie, mystified.

  ‘He had it in for Cooper, didn’t he? Could he have had it in for anyone else? Those two blokes who were killed while they were lying there, for example? Over you, Suzie, over you!’

  ‘Oh Christ!’ said Suzie. ‘Surely not! Surely not, Benito!’

  ‘Did you go with them, too?’

  ‘I - I might have, Benito. I don’t really know. I like Navy boys. They’ve been generous to me and I like to be generous - ’

  ‘All right, all right,’ said Lucca hastily. ‘But you see what I mean? If you’d gone with them, and if Luigi knew, might he not have slipped into the hospital and - ’

  ‘No, no, no!’ cried Suzie. ‘He’s not like that! He gets carried away sometimes, and does crazy things, but he only does crazy things when he is carried away! A sort of fit of passion - ’

  ‘Yes, yes, all right. But I’ve go
t to ask, Suzie, because of the way you’ve been carrying on.’

  ‘I’ll try not to in future,’ said Suzie penitently. ‘I really will, Benito!’

  ‘Sophia,’ said Mrs Ferreira, ‘could you do something for me?’

  ‘Sure,’ said Sophia, who was nursing the youngest Ferreira child. ‘What is it?’

  ‘I promised Mr Vasco I would take a message for him, but I’m running behind time and I don’t know when I shall find a moment to do it. Would you take it for me?’

  Sophia put down the youngest Ferreira with alacrity. It was not that she minded nursing him, it was just that for Sophia a little domestic responsibility went a long way.

  ‘You see he doesn’t fall off,’ she said to another sister.

  ‘Hold him for a minute while I get the letter,’ said Mrs Ferreira.

  She put down the saucepan she was holding and went out of the room.

  ‘I’ll hold him if you like,’ said Chantale.

  ‘No, no - ’

  ‘I’ll put him down in his cot.’ said Mrs Ferreira, returning with an envelope, which she gave to Sophia. ‘It’s time for his sleep.’

  Sophia took the envelope.

  ‘It’s to his brother,’ said Mrs Ferreira.

  ‘At their house?’

  ‘I promised to give it directly into his hands,’ said Mrs Ferreira. ‘I think he’s working in the yards at Kalkara today.’

  ‘Right,’ said Sophia. ‘I’ll get over there.’

  ‘Kalkara is where they do the boats?’ asked Chantale.

  ‘Yes. It’s worth a visit.’

  ‘Perhaps I could go with Sophia?’ suggested Chantale. ‘If she wouldn’t mind?’

  The Ferreiras’ house was small and when most of the family was at home, as it was during the siesta hour, it was very crowded. She could do with some fresh air.

  ‘I don’t mind at all.’ said Sophia, who, lacking an older sister, quite liked to talk things over with Chantale.

  They took a dghajsa over to Birgu and then walked through the narrow streets past the Grand Inquisitor’s Palace and past the Band Institute with its splendid balcony for the band, until they got to Kalkara Creek, where they turned along the front to where the old boatyards were. The smell of salt and tar suddenly became strong.

  ‘Mr Vasco’s brother paints the eyes on the dghajsas.’ said Sophia.

  ‘I think I’ve met Mr Vasco.’ said Chantale. ‘In the hospital.’

  ‘Yes, he’s very ill. But that doesn’t excuse him, my mother says.’

  A dghajsa having its eyes repainted was standing on chocks in a corner and a man was working on it with sandpaper.

  ‘Hello, Mr Vasco.’ said Sophia. ‘I’ve got a message from your brother.’

  The man wiped his hands on a cloth and took the envelope.

  ‘Thank you, Sophia.’ he said.

  He read the letter and frowned.

  ‘He doesn’t know what he’s asking.’ he said. ‘Lying there, he thinks that everyone else has got all the time in the world.’

  He read the note again.

  ‘Well, I don’t know what I’m going to do about this,’ he said.

  He stood there uncertainly. ‘He says he wants me to get a message round to everybody. But that’s not easy to do when they’re working all over the place. I suppose I could wait until the next time the band meets. That will be Thursday - they’re playing at a christening. But he says it’s got to go round at once.’

  ‘Is there a rehearsal before, Mr Vasco?’ said Sophia.

  ‘No, we don’t need rehearsals when it’s a simple christening. But is there really the urgency that he says there is? Just lying there, you know, you think that the world revolves around you, that everything has to fit what you want. But does it?’

  He looked at Sophia and laughed. ‘Well, that’s not something you can answer, is it? I’m the one who’s got to make up his mind. But thank your mother for sending on the message so quickly, and thank you, Sophia. How is your mother, by the way?’

  ‘She’s fine.’ said Sophia.

  ‘Well, give her my thanks, will you? You’ve no idea what it means to us to know that she sees him every day. We know that if there’s a sudden change in his condition, word will get back to us at once.’

  ‘I’ll tell her.’ said Sophia.

  ‘Thanks.’ He looked at her. ‘You don’t know how he is today, I suppose?’

  ‘I don’t,’ said Sophia, ‘but this lady might.’

  He took in her presence for the first time. ‘I’m sorry, madam, I - ’

  ‘This is Chantale.’ said Sophia. ‘She’s staying with us. She’s in the St John Ambulance.’

  ‘Oh, I know about her!’ said Mr Vasco’s brother.

  He wiped his hands again and came over to Chantale and shook her hand warmly.

  ‘You’re the one who patched up Luigi.’ he said.

  ‘I’m beginning to wonder if that was a mistake.’ said Chantale. ‘He’s in trouble again.’

  ‘That stupid bugger’s always in trouble. This Benito business?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘He should stay out of it. He should always stay out of it. I’ve told him that. It’s the little ones who catch it, I said. The big ones never do. So keep out of it. But of course he won’t. Doesn’t have the sense to.’

  He looked at Chantale. ‘Sophia says you saw my brother?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How is he?’

  ‘Not well.’

  ‘As awkward as ever?’

  ‘Well ...’

  He laughed. ‘I know!’ he said. ‘As awkward as ever. I’d like to say that it’s what he’s got that’s making him awkward. But that’s not true. He always was awkward. Awkward, but not stupid. He’s like your Uncle Paolo, Sophia: awkward but not stupid. He was like that at school. It got that the teachers always had it in for him. Well, I can understand. He was a bit too clever for them, see? Like your Uncle Paolo. He could get under their skin. It did him no good in the end. He finished up in the shop. Still awkward. It’s not the thing to be in a shop either. He puts people off. But it wasn’t really his fault. It was the pain. It was getting worse all the time. It will kill him in the end. But meanwhile it drives him on. And makes him drive us on.’

  He looked at the letter again. ‘And so, I suppose, I’ll get it round. Tonight. Although, really ...’

  ‘Everyone in the hospital knew it was the pain,’ said Chantale. ‘So they didn’t really mind. They knew it was not him, but the pain.’

  To her embarrassment, he began to cry.

  ‘Thank you for saying that.’ he said. ‘Thank you.’

  He pulled himself together.

  Thank you.’ he said. ‘Paolo said that you would understand. Because you were an Arab, he said. You would know.’

  ‘But I don’t know,’ said Chantale. ‘I don’t know what he was talking about. They keep claiming me for one of their own, but I’m not. I’m not even Arab, not completely. And why do they keep picking on that? Arab? I see plenty of Arab influence around here but not many Arabs. Paolo? But he’s like me, half and half. And why do they want to claim me, anyway? They don’t want to claim you, do they?’

  ‘No,’ said Seymour. ‘I’m English.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘They see you as oppressed, like them. And me as the English oppressor.’

  Chantale shrugged. ‘Well, if they do, they’re making a lot of it. Too much of it.’

  She thought. ‘At least, Mr Vasco makes too much of it. There was this incident while I was there. He wanted to send a message to his brother, and it had to be by someone Maltese. And, now I come to think of it, even that was not good enough. The sister offered him Bettina but he turned her down. He said he wanted Melinda.’

  ‘The Maltese was nothing to do with it, then.’

  ‘Oh, it was. At first. It was just that there was an added complication. Bettina’s family didn’t get on with his, apparently.’

  ‘He’s obviously very choosy.’
>
  ‘He was insistent on it. I think it really mattered to him.’

  ‘What was he sending messages about?’

  ‘I don’t know. But it’s a regular thing, apparently. In the hospital they seemed to take it for granted. And so did his brother, while I was there.’

  ‘Lots of messages?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I think it may be about the band. His brother talked of getting a message round to the band.’

  ‘But a lot of messages?’

  ‘Maybe he runs the band. Or used to run it. It’s the Birgu band and he’s a Birgu man.’

  ‘And still running it? From his bed?’

  ‘At least he would have time for it.’

  ‘And, of course, the bands are fiercely, if locally, patriotic. That would tie in with all the Maltese business.’

  ‘But what about Paolo? And Luigi, for that matter. They’re not Maltese. Or not completely Maltese. They’re part Arab.’

  ‘But they’re Birgu. Maybe, so far as the band is concerned, that overrides.’

  ‘Especially if you’re a good player,’ said Chantale, laughing. ‘And, apparently, Paolo is.’

  ‘I want us to put our heads together this morning,’ said Mrs Wynne-Gurr, ‘and review what we have learned.’

  ‘I don’t think I have learned much,’ said one of the ladies bravely. ‘Not learned. Oh, it’s been very interesting and I have had a lovely time and everyone has been so kind and helpful. And, of course, the history has been fascinating. That bit about the ladies in the prison! So brave! As you say, a lesson to us all. But as to learning - I mean, what the St John Ambulance does here is pretty much what it does in Godalming. Except for the stabbings, of course. Which I missed because I was on the other side of the racetrack.’

  ‘That is precisely why we should go over what we have learned.’ said Mrs Wynne-Gurr. ‘To pool our experience. We have had a stroke of luck in having Miss de Lissac with us with her expert knowledge - ’

  ‘Not so expert.’ said Chantale hastily.

  ‘Certainly wider than ours. And certainly something we could benefit from.’

  ‘Yes.’ said the lady who had previously objected. ‘I do see that might well be useful. I was talking to Sergeant White the other day and he said things were getting rougher all the time at the Godalming Arms. He said - he actually said - that he wouldn’t be surprised if it was knives next!’