Death on a Dark Sea (The Inspector Felix Mysteries Book 2)

by R. A. Bentley

  'Don't you like him?' whispered Julia.

  'No, he's boring.'

  Connie turned back to the piano, but she'd scarcely selected another sheet of music when she stopped and frowned. 'Listen! I can hear shouting. I thought I heard something earlier.'

  Winifred looked up from her knitting. 'Why, that's Humphrey! What on earth is the matter?'

  A door slammed and a savage-looking Humphrey appeared from the direction of the study, glowered briefly around him, and without a word turned towards the aft companionway.

  Winifred made to stand up. 'Humphrey Harrison, come back here!'

  'Mummy, no!' said Connie hastily. 'I can guess what it is. Luther and Escobar were fighting over some sort of contract. I expect Luis has given it to Escobar and Daddy has gone up to remonstrate with him. You're not going to help by interfering.'

  'But Luther is our friend! Why would Luis do that? How do you know about it anyway?'

  'I was talking to Luther before dinner and he told me.'

  'Why would he tell you?'

  'Why wouldn't he tell me? Honestly, Mummy!'

  Luis sauntered into the room, lighting a cigar.

  'Is everything all right, dear?' asked Julia brightly.

  'Perfectly, thank you. Ah, Bainbridge. How would you like North America?'

  For a moment Andrew looked stunned. 'I'd like it very much, sir. Thank you, sir!'

  'Then be here tomorrow morning at nine-thirty,' said Luis, and continued down the forrard corridor.

  'Luis, wait a minute!' cried Julia. 'Where are you going now? Honestly, that man!'

  'I don't understand,' said Andrew, staring at Winifred.

  Winifred's face had drained of colour. 'Neither do I. I must speak to Humphrey.'

  But Connie held her mother's arm. 'Not now Mummy, wait until he comes back.'

  'But you heard —'

  'Just wait.'

  Lucia opened her eyes and gazed about her, looking distressed. 'Andrew, what is happening?'

  'We don't know. There's been a row about something. He's offered me North America.'

  'I thought that was —'

  'I know. How do you feel?'

  She shook her head irritably and began to struggle to her feet. 'Necesito el lavabo.'

  'I'll go with you,' said Connie.

  'No, it's all right.'

  They watched her waddle uncertainly aft.

  Andrew took out a handkerchief and mopped his brow. 'When will the launch come back?' he asked anxiously.

  'We've booked him for ten,' said Winifred. 'Not long now.'

  'Maybe I'll wander along there, just in case,' said Andrew.

  'I think I'd best go,' said Connie, 'Unless you really want to.'

  'Please, would you? I've never felt more useless.'

  Connie smiled. 'She'll be fine. You never know — I might come back with two.'

  'Oh don't!'

  'I'm sure I'd manage.'

  'Perhaps I should check on Maurice,' said Julia vaguely.

  'What do you think he'll do to him?' asked Ruby, looking concerned. 'He won't horsewhip him or something will he?'

  'Heavens no! Just growl a bit, I expect, and ban him from going ashore. How about if I get us some coffee? Then I'll have an excuse to look in on him. Does everybody want some?' She took their orders and followed her husband forrard.

  'I've never known Humphrey shout like that,' said Winifred. 'And I'd swear he was drunk at dinner. That silly toast!'

  'I wish I knew what went on in there,' said Andrew. 'I should have said no, but he sort of caught me off guard. I'm terribly sorry, Winifred. I'll tell him I can't take it, of course'

  'Do they often have rows?' asked Ruby.

  'No, never,' said Winifred. Not in seven years. Not that he tells me about anyway.'

  Lucia reappeared, looking brighter.

  'Are you all right, darling?' asked Andrew.

  'I think so. Baby is kicking so hard!'

  'How exciting!' said Ruby, and came to sit beside her. 'May I feel her?'

  'Sí, of course. I think I am glad when she is kicking the bedclothes.'

  'Ooh, yes! I felt that all right. Are you sure it isn't a boy?'

  'No, it is a girl!'

  For a while they sat in rather tense silence.

  'The ship doesn't move very much,' observed Ruby. 'I thought it would rock about.'

  'It does normally,' said Winifred distractedly. 'This is rather unusual.' She began to bundle up her knitting, thrusting it untidily into its bag. 'I want to know what's going on.' she declared. 'Connie will be cross but I'm going up anyway.' But rising, she was almost knocked over by Julia who reappearing from the forrard corridor, dashed across the saloon without speaking. 'Julia, what on earth is the matter, dear? Where are you going? Goodness gracious! Has everyone gone mad?'

  They could hear Julia's party shoes clattering up the aft companionway and across the deck, followed a minute or two later by a cry for help and a confusion of voices.

  When Connie returned to the saloon, there was almost no-one left. Andrew made to speak, but she immediately hurried forrard, knocking on Maurice's door. Getting no answer, she threw it open. He was not there but his cabin was in some disarray, with cupboards and drawers thrown open and clothing and artists' materials scattered about. Through the open skylight she could hear voices aft and, more clearly, the Captain shouting for Sven. For a moment she hesitated, then mounting the forrard companionway she hurried back towards them.

  Even on deck it remained hot and sultry, and very dark. The sky continued overcast, revealing no stars, and the moon had not yet risen. People appeared mere shadows unless they passed the brightly-lit chartroom or lights from below. Julia, on her knees, was straining to see over the side, Robert and Luther were at the davits, hastening to launch the ship's tender, and Simmons and her father were already in it.

  'Sven, where the blazes are you?' roared the Captain.

  Connie saw a pale shape appear beside her. Mounting the bulwarks the big Swede ducked under the rail, briefly surveyed the scene, and dived cleanly into the water. The sea was even blacker than the deck, barely illuminated by the light from a nearby port, but Luis Pérez could faintly be seen, drifting slowly aft. It wasn't clear whether he was doing anything to save himself.

  'Can he swim?' asked Luther.

  'He doesn't often,' said Connie, 'but he can.'

  'He's gone.'

  'Oh Luis!' cried Julia. She stood up. 'I'm going in.'

  'No you're not, don't be silly.'

  Sven surfaced from his dive, took a breath, dived again. There was a splash and they saw that Escobar had joined him. The tender hit the water with a hollow slap.

  'Can someone find my torch?' called Simmons.

  At his second attempt, Sven emerged clutching Luis by the collar. He waited patiently as Humphrey engaged the oars and manoeuvred the tender towards them, the ebb tide carrying the whole party slowly astern. Aided by the swimmers, Simmons could be seen dragging the stricken Spaniard over the boat's high transom until he lay prone and unmoving between the thwarts. He immediately set to work on him in the approved manner as Humphrey rowed them back alongside.

  'Is he breathing?' asked Robert.

  The Captain shook his head. 'Can't tell.'

  'Oh, Luis!' said Julia tearfully.

  'Torch,' said Luther. He handed it down and received the boat's painter in exchange.

  'We'd best turn him over,' said Humphrey.

  By the light of the torch, Luis' eyes could be seen staring up at them, wide open and surprised-looking.

  'That's a dead man,' murmured Luther, as if to himself.

  'Oh Luther no!' sobbed Connie.

  Abruptly, Simmons leaned forward and tore open Luis' sodden shirt. He turned the torch on his own hand, and for a long moment he and Humphrey gazed down without speaking. 'I think he's been stabbed,' he said.

  'What did you say?' frowned Winifred.

  'I think he's been stabbed, Mrs Harrison. There's bloo
d.'

  Chapter 3

  Early the following morning, a lean and powerful launch could be found conveying four large policemen down Southampton Water. Three of them – stoutly shod, bowler hatted and discreetly accoutred in subfusc worsted – could scarcely be other than CID officers. The fourth, in brown trilby, rather strident Norfolk jacket and matching plus-fours, more closely resembled a country squire. There could be little doubt, however, who was in charge. Detective Inspector Miles Felix seldom dressed according to his station, but his height and his long, boney face might have been designed to convey authority; a severity of aspect somewhat marred by the native good humour in his crinkled, deep-set eyes.

  Sergeant Edward Rattigan, broad of countenance and mighty of girth, beamed happily at his chief. 'This is a pleasant surprise, sir. We weren't expecting you back until next week.'

  'I'm delighted to be here, Teddy,' said Felix, 'notwithstanding half an hour's aggravated ear-bending and a ruined breakfast. I had about five minutes left to catch the train, obliging me the requisition Daisy's bicycle. She was not best pleased.'

  'How is Miss Felix, sir?' asked Sergeant Yardley.

  'Thriving thanks, Paul, and sends her regards to all. I say, this all right, eh? A life on the ocean wave!' He turned to gaze with satisfaction at the evidence of their progress, the nearby marshland reeds dipping and rising in their wake. 'I wonder how fast we're going?'

  'I'd say about ten or twelve knots, sir,' said Sergeant Nash.

  'Is that all? Seems more. John, of course! You were in the Andrew, weren't you? You shall be our expert. Done any yachting?'

  'No, sir. I've seen enough of the briny for one lifetime, thanks very much. I ought to warn you, though: don't expect it to be a picnic in these conditions. You might find it a bit uncomfortable until you get your sea-legs.'

  'The mal de mer, do you mean? Sorry to disappoint you, shipmate; she's anchored off the town and staying there. No flying fish and dusky maidens on this trip. Crikey, look at this lot! It's worse than Boulter's Lock.'

  Cowes Week had begun, and entering the Solent proper they found themselves beset on all sides by bellying triangles and trapezoids of sail, the usual commercial traffic passing indifferently amongst them. The fine weather of the previous day had continued, but a rising westerly breeze had engendered a steep chop, causing the launch to pound heavily, and the glittering green seas – showing scant respect for the law – to hurl the occasional dollop of spray in their faces.

  The mainland gradually receded behind them, but the low, northern shore of the island was still some way off when a uniformed sergeant emerged from the wheelhouse. 'There she is, sir: fine on the starboard bow. White hull and varnished superstructure.'

  'That's a big boat,' said Nash, sounding surprised.

  '"Twin-masted schooner Isabella, registered in Valencia, January 1925,"' recited Felix, recalling his briefing. '"Juan Luis Pérez y Delgado, owner. Albert Kenver Simmons DSC, master. Length on deck, one hundred and thirty-five feet, Length over all, one hundred and forty-eight feet, beam twenty-seven feet, draught fourteen feet six inches." What makes her a schooner, Sergeant?'

  'Her rig, sir. Fore and aft, like a regular yacht but with the mainmast – that's the tallest one – nearest the stern. Lovely under sail, she is; we saw her come in, just back from the West Indies by way of New York.'

  'Minus a crewman, I understand.'

  'Yes, sir. Local chap. Only twenty-one and a girl waiting for him. An unlucky ship, sir.'

  'What is the boat alongside of her?'

  'Belongs to the caterers. They hired them for the party.'

  'Still there?'

  'As far as I know, sir. Captain's orders were no-one to leave. You won't get no nonsense from Simmons, sir. He's one of the old school — hard as they come. He's got some Swedish fella locked in the fo'c'sle. Reckons he done it.'

  'Not in the brig?'

  The sergeant looked doubtful. 'Don't rightly know if they've got a brig, sir. We've put two constables aboard, by the way, but the Super says if you don't want 'em, he'll have 'em back. We're pretty hard-pressed to be honest, what with the regatta an' all.'

  With her fine lines, unbroken sheer and piratically raked masts, the Isabella was a romantic sight, even with her sails furled. At the request of Sergeant Nash, their photographer, they made a full circuit of her, passing under her long bowsprit and around her elegant, counter stern, where the red and yellow of la Rojigualda fluttered at half-mast. The launch's uniformed crew now appeared, kicking over fenders and making ready with lines, as their helmsman brought them neatly alongside the caterers' converted fishing boat.

  'We'll let you cross over her to the midships boarding ladder, if that's all right, sir,' said the sergeant. 'We could've used the after one but it ain't much fun in these conditions. Bit up and down, as you see.'

  'Was it like this last night?'

  'No sir, couldn't be more different — flat calm.'

  'I don't know about "off the town,"' grumbled Rattigan. 'Feels more like mid-ocean to me.'

  Clinging to his hat, Felix eyed with mild apprehension the pitching, rolling vessels. It wouldn't do to make fools of themselves before they were even aboard. He could tell that Rattigan and Yardley, the team's dabs man, were thinking the same. Only Nash was shouldering his copious equipment with apparent composure. He gave them an encouraging grin as he threw a leg insouciantly over the side. One by one they gingerly followed him, acutely aware of the watchers above.

  Fortunately, while the aft boarding ladder was conventionally vertical, the midships one was more in the nature of a short staircase, running up the side of the hull.

  'Wait till she rolls toward you,' advised Nash. 'Once you're on, don't hesitate; keep going up.'

  Captain Simmons was waiting for them, drawing them firmly towards him as they stumbled awkwardly aboard. Probably in his early sixties, he had a tough, no nonsense air about him that fully supported the sergeant's description. He wore a braided peaked cap, double-breasted jacket with brass buttons and a full, grizzled beard in the manner of the King, whom he slightly resembled. 'I'm very pleased to see you, gentlemen,' he said. 'It's been a damned awkward few hours and no mistake. Inspector Felix, this is Dr Edwards, police surgeon, and this is Constable Hardy. Constable Buckler is minding the prisoner. I see you've met Sergeant Talbot.'

  Doctor Edwards, wearing a tweed three-piece and plum-coloured bow tie, appeared about the same age as the Captain. Unlike that spare personage, however, his comfortable build suggested an attachment to fine dining. 'I thought I'd best hang on until you'd viewed the body, Inspector. Also, if I may, I've a favour to ask — rather urgent.'

  'What is that?'

  'There's a heavily pregnant young woman aboard. I'm a bit worried about her and should like to get her ashore.'

  'Then she must go. Is her husband with her?'

  'Yes, name of Bainbridge.'

  'All right. We'll have a look at our victim and then you might as well take him and Mrs Bainbridge back with you.' He turned to the Captain. 'Was she was involved in any way, do you know?'

  Simmons shook his head. 'Shouldn't hardly think so. Little scrap of a thing and well gone by the look of her.'

  'I'd say someone got their dates wrong,' said the doctor, 'and I don't care for her history. She shouldn't be here.'

  Clinging to the rail, Felix turned his gaze along the great sweep of deck. Everything seemed to be in wild motion: the ship, the sea, and the many other vessels, large and small, upon it. As he watched, a towering array of sails slipped across their bows, from under which appeared a lean, black hull, heeled enough to set her lee deck awash. Standing at the wheel, her helmsman had one foot almost in the rushing water while her crew sat and lay along the weather rail. Several of them cheerily waved. Another similar vessel could be seen following behind. At any other time, he thought, the colourful and animated scene would have been a delight but, as so often, his enjoyment was tainted by the presence of violent death. The sky contain
ed only a few fair-weather clouds, but just then a patter of spray darkened the pale teak at his feet. He could see that more had fallen further forrard — fatal to fingerprints.

  'You'd best start up here,' he told Yardley. 'Bulwarks and rail first, then work your way inwards. We ought to do the caterers' boat too. What side did he go over, Captain?'

  'This side. Port.'

  'Stick to that then, for now. Where is everybody?'

  'Below, sir,' said Constable Hardy. 'I've asked them to gather in the saloon.'

  'Then we must introduce ourselves. Can you give us five minutes Doctor?'

  Dr Edwards nodded. 'I'll come down with you and look at my patient.'

  'If you need me, Inspector, I'll be in the chartroom,' said the Captain. 'Let me know when you want to see the body.'

  Clinging tightly to the rails on either side, they descended the heaving aft companionway. A narrow, match-boarded lobby with boots and oilskins gave onto a substantial, low-ceilinged room – one would have hesitated to call it a cabin – luxuriously appointed in the modern style with comfortable-looking fitted furniture, bookcases, pictures on the walls, a large stove, and, of all things, an upright piano; firmly attached, one hoped, to the bulkhead it sat against. He wondered if all this was normal on a yacht. Out of the breeze, and despite the open skylight, it felt almost hot. Waiting for him, standing and sitting, were eight sombre-faced people. Some were casually attired, some were still dressed for the party of the night before, and one sported a comic opera military uniform. Behind them stood a knot of white-coated catering staff. No-one looked as though they'd had much sleep. Felix noted that those on their feet appeared to adapt their stance to the ship's corkscrew motion without conscious effort, something he had yet to achieve. The doctor immediately continued forrard down a narrow, mahogany-panelled corridor, mirroring another leading aft.

  Grateful for the support of the piano, Felix slipped into his customary patter. 'Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. I'm Inspector Felix of Scotland Yard and this is my assistant, Sergeant Rattigan. We also have with us sergeants Nash and Yardley, who are currently occupied on deck. I fully realise how unpleasant this must be for you, especially with so many policemen about the place, but arriving by the boatload does mean we can complete our investigations in the shortest possible time. That will involve, I'm afraid, taking all your fingerprints. We shall also be requesting a statement from each of you regarding the events of last night, which we shall then type up and ask you to sign. Is any member of the company not present?'