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

by R. A. Bentley

  'He ain't no trouble, sir,' said Buckler. 'Where would he go?'

  'Is someone feeding him?'

  'The Señora's maid brings us sandwiches and tea, sir. Name of Effie. Cute little party but a bit lippy.'

  Felix expressed surprise. 'The Senora sends her?'

  'I think it's probably Giuseppe, sir. He's the cook.'

  'Oh, I see. Has Olofsson said anything we should know about?'

  'Not really, sir. Only what you heard yourself. He seems normal, if you know what I mean — not barmy or anything. No sign of booze, that we could find. He got a bit low at one point and had a little weep. I told him I didn't know about where he come from, but our police was always fair and if he didn't do it, he didn't have nothing to worry about and he brightened up after that.'

  'Constable, if you're not careful, your nose will grow and grow.'

  Buckler smiled uncertainly. 'There is one thing, sir. Not sure if I should mention it.'

  'What is that?'

  'Well, it's difficult to tell, what with him being foreign an' all, and it's only kind of a feeling, and if I had to put money on it, well, I'd say he didn't do it – the murder, I mean – but I do think he's maybe keeping something back.'

  'What sort of something?'

  'Dunno sir. I just think whatever it is, he don't want to talk about it and he's maybe afraid we'll find it out.'

  'Thank you constable, that could well turn out to be useful. Always mention your hunches; I've known them crack a case.'

  Watching Nash and Yardley struggle past them, Felix wondered what it would be like with eight men using the fo'c'sle together. Perhaps there were always four on watch?

  'I presume this is his bunk, sir, the unmade one,' said Yardley, plying his torch. 'Plenty of good dabs. Do you want the whole room done?'

  Felix lifted the thin pallet and peered underneath. 'Probably not. Use your judgement. And take his directly, of course. These are his effects presumably. What do you call this thing, Nash?'

  'Just a seabag, sir. The little one's a ditty bag or housewife — needle and thread, buttons, and so on. Quite nice workmanship. They often make them themselves out of scraps of canvas, as an exercise.'

  'We'd best turn them out. I'll do that and you make a note. All very neat, I see. Ready? Here we go. Pants: two, vests: two, shorts: two, shirts: three, canvas trousers: one, socks . . . call it several, pair of black leather shoes. Shouldn't think they get much use — bit squashed. Now the ditty bag: sewing stuff, sponge-bag with soap, flannel, shaving things including safety razor, wallet with photos, mum and dad by the look of it. What else? Purse with assorted small currency, personal letters. We'll leave those alone for now. What's this thing?'

  'Fid sir, used in rope work.'

  'And these? Cringles, are they?'

  'Yes, for sails and so on. That's just an awl, a palm, and that's a shackle of course.'

  'No bolts? No, don't answer that. Thimbles, lint, sticking plaster, finger-stall, assorted twine, sheath knife. Hmm, that's a lethal-looking instrument. About the right size too. Dabs please, Paul, and check for blood. Then we'd best hang onto it. Anything behind those bunks?'

  'Not to speak of,' said Nash rooting about. 'Someone's shore-going shoes, hole in right sole.'

  'How do you know they're shore-going?'

  'No grip. They'd put you in the drink in no time. Nautical almanac, out of date; pair of rusty pliers; mucky old screwdriver, seen better days.'

  'My father would call that an Irish tin opener.'

  'Yes, so would mine. Nothing exciting there, then. Can you stuff all this back?' He went to the foot of the companionway. 'Rattigan!'

  Regaining the deck, Felix was briefly disorientated. 'Someone's moved the town, Teddy.'

  'Yes, sir. It's a bit calmer too, now we've turned. Wind against tide would it be, or is it the reverse?'

  'Well whatever it is, I hope it lasts; although if Miss Harrison were to appear in her nurse's outfit, I might be tempted to stage a relapse.'

  'Very nice too. I'd appreciate some kind words and a cooling hand myself.'

  'Oh no you don't, Sergeant, I saw her first. You find your own ministering angel.'

  'Humph, well if you're going to pull rank, sir.'

  Felix smiled wistfully. 'If only we were ten years younger, eh? Well, me anyway. Buckler thinks Olofsson might be holding out on us. Not the murder, something else. What d'you reckon?'

  'I got the feeling he was hamming up the broken English a bit,' said Rattigan. 'Did you notice how it suddenly improved when you asked what he thought of Pérez?'

  'Yes, I did, although he did seem to get more confident, towards the end. Not a sentiment you'd expect from him either, under the circumstances. I suppose it suggests a certain honesty.'

  'Or he's not too bright. Hard to tell with foreigners. Could it be on account of the drowned crewman, do you think? Maybe they blame him for it.'

  'Well if it is,' said Felix, 'I reckon that's our cue to interview Simmons.' He gazed heavenwards. 'Not yet, though. He's still "up unto the top."'

  '"And the landlubbers lying down below." We used to sing that at school. Talking of which, I was wondering what's down there.' He pointed at an open hatch. 'Might be a good time to look.'

  'Hmm, interesting. Yes, all right.'

  They descended into a substantial, timber-lined space. Situated forrard of the fo'c'sle it stretched almost into the bows of the ship. In racks on either side were bolts of neatly rolled or folded canvas, some appearing to be of considerable size. Apart from the muffled slapping of the waves against the hull, it was strangely quiet and smelled slightly of mildew.

  'The sail-locker, would it be?'

  'Very likely. I expect they keep a second set, for when the first is in the wash.'

  'Rattigan eyed him suspiciously. 'If you say so, sir. I was thinking it might be a good hidey-hole for someone up to no good. Put the lads onto it?'

  'Yes, we'd better.'

  'I got those plans you wanted, Inspector,' said the Captain. He had spread on the chart-table a large blueprint, weighting it with an ashtray and a pair of binoculars. 'Sit yourselves down. Smoke if you like.'

  'This is the below-decks layout, presumably?' said Felix, studying the faded drawing.

  'Yes. It's pretty straightforward, as you see. Saloon roughly amidships. Corridors lead from it, fore and aft. The after one's got the Harrisons' cabin and a bathroom to port, and a spare single and Pérez's study to starboard. At the end you got the master-cabin, stretching right across. The study is really an office. Pérez and Harrison both used it. The ladies and young Maurice use the spare as a sewing room.'

  'Like that is he?' asked Rattigan.

  The Captain grinned. 'Just a bit. Nice enough lad, though, always polite. The forrard corridor's got two doubles, two singles, the galley and another head. The galley's a classy affair — Pérez liked his grub. Then you got the foot of the forrard companionway and the door to the fo'c'sle.'

  'How many crew do you normally have? I counted eight bunks.'

  'Yes, that's right, plus me. She's fairly easy to handle.'

  'What about Pérez, did he ever steer the ship?'

  'Take the helm? Yes, now and again. And Humphrey Harrison. Harrison's quite a competent seaman. You can leave him to get on with it. Pérez I preferred to keep an eye on.'

  'Who's in the forrard cabins?'

  Miss Harrison and Maurice in the doubles, Giuseppe the cook and Effie Smith in the singles. I calls 'em singles because they're smaller but they've all got two bunks except Miss Harrison's; that's a proper double.

  'What about the back end, sir?' asked Rattigan, pointing with his pencil.

  'Aft? Right at the stern you got the lazarette, which you've been in. Then, via that hatch behind you, there's the engine-room, with a bit of a workshop to port and my own cabin to starboard. She's very much a sailing vessel but the engine comes handy sometimes. Right up forrard you got the sail and chain lockers. On deck you got the cockpit – raised, as yo
u see, to give a view forrard – then chartroom, aft companionway, mainmast, deckhouse, foremast, generator house – just a big box really – forrard companionway, and that's it.'

  'What about access below? Just the two companionways?'

  'Yes, normally. Some of the cabins have openin' skylights. The lights can lift off but it's not a one-handed job.'

  'Portholes?'

  'Too small. You could just about get your head through. Oh yes, and there's a hatch under the deckhouse table. That takes you into the saloon, but it's not used, not even a ladder to it.'

  'Locked?'

  'Bolted.'

  'Are you able to get below through the engine-room area?'

  'No. There's a solid bulkhead between that and the master-cabin.'

  'That looks a good size.'

  'Not bad. All done out fancy, with its own head and shower. You'd think you was in a posh flat.'

  'How the other half do live, eh? Thank you, Captain. And while it occurs to me, are there any guns aboard?'

  'Yes, in that locker behind you. Couple of pistols and three carbines; in case we gets trouble.'

  'They belong to the ship, so to say?'

  'Yes.'

  'Where do you keep the keys?'

  'In my desk.'

  'Maybe you should pocket them for now. None elsewhere?'

  'Doubt it, but how would I know? You know he was an arms dealer?'

  'Yes, I do. Would this be a good time to give me your statement?'

  Simmons confirmed that with the rest of the crew enjoying a run ashore, he and Sven had been keeping alternate watches through the night while doing odd jobs, severally and together, during the day. The previous morning they'd been reeving new running rigging, badly needed, when the Senora reported that water was seeping from behind her head. They had therefore dropped what they were doing to deal with it – Sven breaking off to supervise the arrival of the caterer's boat – and had only narrowly managed to complete the repair, a leaking joint, as the party guests arrived. Thereafter they'd had a bite to eat and spent the early evening companionably worming, parcelling and serving rope ends until Sven went off watch at eight.

  'What's worming, sir?' enquired Rattigan.

  'Fillin' the cuntlines.'

  'Bet you wish you hadn't asked,' grinned Felix. 'What did you do after Olofsson turned in?'

  'Not a lot. Read the newspaper mostly – Stan Hobson brings 'em out – and wrote up the log. I lit the ridin' lights, then done a couple of circuits of the deck, as I usually do, but kept away from the deckhouse while dinner was goin' on. Then I was in here until the fella in uniform come on deck. Mexican, is he? I could see his hat passin' the window as he walked up and down, so I wandered out for a gam.'

  'What did you talk about?'

  'Just an exchange of pleasantries, as they say, mainly about the heat. It was thundery and close until about midnight and then it freshened up.'

  'That was Señor Escobar. How did he seem? Calm? Agitated?'

  'A little bit jumpy, I thought. I formed the impression he'd rather be alone so I came back inside. I never saw nobody after that until Humphrey Harrison and the Baker kids pitched up.'

  'Harrison came in here?'

  'Yes. He came first and the Bakers a minute or two later.'

  'When would that have been?'

  'Between three and four bells in the first watch. That's nine-thirty to ten. I didn't make a special note of it.'

  'Do you ring the watches when in port?' asked Felix hopefully.

  Striking a match, Simmons smiled around his pipe-stem. 'Naw. I don't think that would be greatly appreciated.'

  'And did you see or hear anything odd or unusual, up to when your visitors arrived?'

  'Depends what you call odd. The dinner seemed to go off all right, then everyone went below. I did wonder why the ladies didn't go earlier, but it ain't written in stone, I s'pose. Straight after that, the caterers went in to clear up. They was goin' back and forth for a while. Then about nine or so the argy-bargy started comin' up from the study, which is under that skylight out there, and I noticed the Mex had stopped dead as if he was listenin' to it.'

  'Could you hear what was said?'

  The Captain looked down his nose at him. 'I'm not one to earwig on other people's conversations, Inspector.'

  'Of course not. But it could be critical, you know, if they were having an argument.'

  'Hmm, suppose it could. Well, I'm not avoidin' the issue but I couldn't make much of it, to be honest. Bits of business jargon. Stuff about guns. Mexico was mentioned. That's how I guessed the fella was a Mex. Well, he looks like a Mex, come to that. It sounded like Pérez had done something Humphrey Harrison didn't approve of and he was pretty riled about it. Now that was unusual. I never heard him shout like that afore. Harrison, that is. Pérez never shouted — he was a cold fish. They had Luther Baker down there with them and he was putting his five eggs in as well, though not as loud.'

  'You know Mr Baker?'

  'Up to a point. We cruised the Carribean in company for a while and then there was that damned race. I got quite pally with his skipper, though, Sammy Pierce. Nice fella.'

  'What happened after that?'

  'Ah, well then someone come pounding up the aft companionway. I don't know who.'

  'Could it have been Harrison?'

  'Very likely was, but I didn't see him. I could hear the Baker kids earlier, chattin' just out there on the starboard side, but no-one else.'

  'So we probably had Escobar, Harrison and the Baker kids all on deck at that time. Do you know if any of them went near the port side of the deckhouse?'

  The captain nodded portentously. 'Site of the bloodstains, of course.' He appeared to give it some thought, puffing at his pipe. 'Well I can't say for sure they didn't go there. But if they did, I wasn't aware of it. By that time it was dark, so they could've gone just about anywhere they wanted if they'd kept their heads down and walked quiet. You can't see a lot from in here unless you stands up, and I was sittin' down. The Baker kids said they'd been up to the bows, come to think of it, so they might have gone past there, but I had no cause to ask 'em.'

  'Was it very dark last night? On deck, I mean.'

  'Yes, it was pretty overcast until the breeze got up. But, like I say, that was later. It's never pitch-black forrard until everyone's in bed as there's always a bit of light coming up from below, but you couldn't make out a lot of detail.'

  'What did you and Harrison talk about?'

  'Not a lot.'

  'Did he mention the row?'

  'I can't recall him doing so. Anyway, after about five minutes the Baker kids come in. They was keen to discuss the race and I wasn't, but we'd only been chattin' for a minute or two when Julia started callin' for help. After that we was kept pretty busy.'

  'What happened next?'

  'Well, I shot out of the port-side door and managed to clock Pérez driftin' astern. It was just his head, so I knew it was bad. Folk think a drownin' man'll shout and wave but mostly they ain't got the strength and just bob up and down quiet-like until they goes under. Anyway, Robert and Alice set about lowering the tender and me and Humphrey got into it. Then Baker arrived and took over from Alice and I sung out for Sven. I had to call a couple of times, him being asleep. Eventually he come rushin' up and dived straight in.'

  'How did he know what was happening?'

  'Well it was pretty obvious someone was in the water, and Julia was screamin' fit to bust.'

  'You weren't tempted to go in yourself?'

  'Naw, I can't swim! Not many sailors my age can. Then the Mex come and jumped in too, and they was both divin' after Pérez, who by that time had gone down. Eventually Sven got a-hold of him and we hauled him in over the transom. Not without a struggle; he was a dead weight. Then I pumped him dry, or tried to.'

  'Did you get the impression he was still alive at that point?'

  'Can't say. He never stirred and he never spoke. He wasn't down for long, so he might've been.'
<
br />   'When did you realise he'd been stabbed?'

  The captain paused for thought. 'Soon as we turned him over. I can't tell you why, though. Maybe I could feel the blood. It was pretty dark down there, with just the light from the nearest port, so I called for a torch and there it was.'

  'No sign of a weapon?'

  'No.'

  'Was there much blood?'

  'Not a lot. I reckon it'd washed away mostly, or soaked into his clothes.'

  'Still bleeding?'

  'Just a bit maybe.'

  'Did anyone else come on deck, when the Señora called?'

  'Seemed like just about everyone did! I can't tell you who exactly. Connie and Winifred Harrison were at the rail. I remember that.'

  'Did you see the Señora, before she called out?'

  'No, but I heard her party shoes click clacking across the deck. I was goin' to say somethin' about it to the others, but then she shouted anyway.'

  'Does that mean she came via the aft companionway, if she crossed the deck?'

  'I'd say so, probably. She could've come from forrard along the starboard side, but it sounded like the companionway.'

  'What happened then?'

  'We swung the tender aboard and got Pérez into the deckhouse. Julia was in a great takin'-on, of course, roarin' an' screechin,' with the other ladies trying to comfort her. Then Stan Hobson arrived. I reckoned whoever done it was bound to try and get away, so I sent him back empty to fetch a policeman and stood guard on the caterers' boat while Sven got dried and dressed, and then he took over.'

  'You never felt it might have been self-inflicted, that Pérez stabbed himself?'

  The Captain looked surprised. 'It never crossed my mind. Might it have been?'

  'It seems unlikely but we can't entirely rule it out. When did the Señora accuse Olofsson?'

  'Not then. After a while Harrison come and said that she had and I should lock him up, so I did. Soon after that, Inspector Jackson arrived.'

  'What makes you so sure he's innocent?'

  'I know men, Inspector. He might throw a few punches in a brawl but he'd never knife anyone. He could have done, I daresay, but he didn't. I'd bet my life on it.'