'Tell me about him.'
'Sven? Nice lad, polite, loves his work, gets on with the others, mostly. You can leave him to do a job and you know it'll be done right; or if he don't know how, he'll ask.'
'Intelligent?'
The Captain gave an amused little snort. 'Well, he ain't no Einstein, but he's rated Able. I don't take 'em otherwise. There's not much he don't know about sail.'
'He's a big chap. How old is he?'
'Twenty-three. I reckon he kicked the others out the nest; got their rations.'
'Married?'
'Naw.'
'Girl?'
'Naw! He talks big, like they all do, but I reckon he's a bit shy of the ladies.'
'You mentioned the race. You lost a crewman, I believe?'
The Captain sighed resignedly. 'I thought that would come up. You think that's why he might've done it — resentment? No, Inspector, I don't think so.'
'What happened exactly?'
'Damned foolish business. We'd agreed to race across the Atlantic. Well, I didn't, the owners did, but I didn't raise no objection. New York to here, it was. We'd put in there to pick up some stuff for Pérez.'
'That was against the Musket, presumably? Isn't she a lot smaller than this ship?'
'Yes, only seventy feet, but the Isabella's very much a cruisin' yacht and the Musket's an out an' out racer: Bermudian rigged and goes to weather like a rocket. Sails on her ear, and wet as a tart's knickers, but quick. The Isabella spreads a lot of canvas and she's got the length. Off the wind, nothin'll touch her. Close hauled, not so good. It was generally agreed that on a long voyage we'd be pretty well matched. Anyway, we never seen 'em all the way across and thought we was home and dry. Then just short of the Lizard they come up with us. We was pluggin' away to windward with the Musket closin' fast on our port quarter when the wind suddenly swung into the north. That brought us onto a beam reach and we began to draw away. Excitin' it was, I'll say that, and even the ladies come on deck for a look. With only a few hours to go, we reckoned we was in with a chance. At the same time it was comin' up pretty thick, with the wind about a force six and risin' and some nasty confused seas, which you'd expect, of course, with the wind backin' like that. I was at the helm, with Pérez and the lads behind me, when one of 'em tapped me on the shoulder. I turned and there was this wicked-lookin' black squall bearin' down on us. I said we should heave-to, and fast.'
'What does that mean, to heave-to?'
'Turn into the wind, balance your sails and sit tight, basically. I waited for Pérez to agree – out of courtesy, you know – and to my surprise he said we should run before it. That made it difficult. I'd agreed to race and we was racin', but at the same time I had to consider the safety of the ship. We had a bit of a facin'-off about it. In the end I reckoned the worst of it would probably pass behind us and decided to take a chance. That was a mistake. We saw the Musket disappear into it and I gave the order to shorten sail. Moments later we took a bloody great green-un on the port beam; all but knocked us down. Young Jim Parker was going forrard at the time, and when we come back up he was gone. 'With a swift movement, the Captain bent away from them and spent some moments knocking out his pipe on his heel. 'And that,' he said, 'was that.'
'You didn't go back?'
'Naw. That's what people don't understand. Even if you could put her about, and it was too late for that, you wouldn't never find a man in those seas. They was runnin' twelve or fifteen feet high by that time, and breakin'. Besides which, he was wearin' full weather gear and sea-boots. No, he didn't stand a chance. It would have been pointless and dangerous and I wasn't goin' to do it. Nobody would.'
'Would you say Pérez was to blame?'
The Captain shook his head. 'I'm master of this ship, Inspector, and it was my decision. If you're lookin' for someone to blame, it's me.'
'Does that happen often — men lost overboard?'
'I've had a couple. It's a dangerous trade.'
'What did the crew make of it?'
'They know the score. Trouble is, seamen are superstitious. They'll see her as an unlucky ship now, with two deaths. If they can find another berth, they'll probably take it.'
Felix nodded grimly. 'One more thing. What did you think of Pérez generally? Not much, by the sound of it.'
The captain considered this for so long that Felix wondered if he'd heard.
'He treated folk like dirt,' he said at last. 'He had no respect and he didn't care about no-one. If you must have an answer, Inspector, I'd say he was an evil fuckin' bastard.'
Chapter 5
They found Nash and Yardley in the deckhouse, waiting for them.
'What's the next move, sir?'
'I'm minded to interview the Senora,' said Felix. 'Provided she's up to it. In the meantime, Yardley, I want you to do the forrard corridor and companionway and everything off it. I'm interested in who went where and when, so concentrate on the doors and handrails. If you find any occupants, turf them out. Don't bother with the galley and don't go in the saloon yet; we'll leave them in peace for the moment. Did anyone play up over having their dabs taken?'
'Not really, sir. The American chap, Baker, grumbled a bit, but mainly for form's sake I think.'
'That's a pity,' interjected Rattigan.
'Yes it is. If it's one of them, he's a cool customer. Nash, I want you to muster the catering staff and find out whom they saw in that part of the ship from the time of the party onwards. Also if any of their own number disappeared for a while. See if you can get some actual times. We'll probably have to come back to that, but it'll be a start. You can see my reasoning, of course; I want to know who could have gone on deck via the forrard companionway to end up in the vicinity of our bloodstains. And incidently, don't mention them to anyone yet. No-one has, I take it?' They all shook their heads. 'Good. Now, Teddy, I want you to put on your kindly old policeman face and fetch the Senora. If she bridles, suggest someone comes with her to hold her hand. Don't push too hard. We can leave her until later if we have to.'
Left alone, Felix wandered outside. He was still feeling unwell, but fresh air seemed to help and there was plenty of that. He wondered how he'd have coped in Simmons' squall. Probably it was like any other emergency; you just got on with it. He tried to imagine a vessel of this size being knocked over — the thundering mass of water pouring across the deck, the helmsman and crew struggling to maintain a foothold, the terror and chaos below, and then the horror of a missing man. No rogue waves here, thank goodness, though none at all would be better.
The surrounding anchorage now hosted, he noted, a milling fleet of the smaller sort of yacht. In the apparent confusion he could begin to discern a pattern of sorts, a jockeying for position as they rounded a nearby buoy, and a sprint, if one could call it that, for the next one. By contrast, the pattern beneath his own investigations was not yet clear to him, but he knew it would reveal itself eventually. The murderer was here, on this ship. There were only eighteen people aboard at the time, plus the victim. How difficult could it be?
The samples having been taken, the bloodstains had all but disappeared. Not that they'd been very extensive originally. Full marks to Simmons, he thought, for spotting them. He stood in various positions and tried to picture the fatal assault. Assuming the doctor was right and no blood had spurted out of Pérez, he would have needed to be in contact with the deckhouse in order to leave some upon it. He tried to imagine how this could result from a frontal assault, turning this way and that, but couldn't make it work. It seemed more likely he'd been attacked from behind, the killer grabbing him by the chin – perhaps preventing him from crying out – and reaching round to plunge in the blade, whereupon he either fell or was shoved against the window and wall.
After that, there was the problem of getting him over the side. Somehow, he must have been turned to face outwards and downwards in order to drip onto the deck. The killer would then have had to heave the dead or dying millionaire over the three foot high rail, or alternati
vely shove him between it and the twelve-inch bulwark, avoiding the uprights, here spaced about four feet apart. No easy task in either case, and still less so if done in a hurry.
However it was done, it had apparently been achieved without anyone noticing or hearing anything. No scuffles or grunts, no thump of a body falling onto the deck, and not even a splash when he went overboard; or not loud enough for anyone below to notice. That suggested a powerful man, strong enough to stop him falling, to lift him like a child and dangle him quietly into the water. There was only one member of the company he could imagine capable of such a thing, and that was the Viking in the fo'c'sle. Or did the killer have help?
Gazing aloft, as if for an answer, he was suddenly aware of the ship's complex rigging. So preoccupied had he been until then that he'd scarcely noticed it. Ropes of steel supported the towering masts, while those of the hempen variety – surely to be measured in miles? – came tautly down from on high, or hung in swags from wooden pins, or made cat's cradles among pulleys the size of dinner plates, eventually to join the great horizontal spars above the deckhouse and chartroom. These last, he knew, supported the top and bottom edges of the sails; now stowed in folds between them and neatly tied in place. To none of those things could he even put a name. It was a mysterious, arcane world, inhabited by men who at twice his age and in half a gale – or so it felt – would climb eighty or so feet in order to make essential repairs.
He wondered vaguely if it might have been possible to put one of those ropes around the victim, swinging him as neatly over the side as unloading a barrel onto a quay, but there seemed no means, at least to his untutored eye, by which that might have been achieved. Nash might know, he supposed. Seeing Julia had arrived, he went back inside. She was alone but for Rattigan.
'Hello, Señora,' said Felix, introducing himself. 'I'm sorry to trouble you so soon but I'm sure you'll understand we badly need your statement regarding what happened.'
'Yes of course, Inspector,' said Julia. 'Nothing seemed quite real to begin with, but I'm starting to face up to it now, I think. It was just such a terrible, terrible shock. Do you want me to . . . ?'
'Yes, so sorry. Do sit down. Has someone been looking after you? One of the other ladies, perhaps?'
'Oh yes. They've all been terribly patient and kind, Winifred especially, and I have my maid, of course. She's been wonderful too.'
'You could have Mrs Harrison here with you, you know, if you wish.'
'Oh no, that's all right, Inspector. Sergeant Rattigan did suggest it, but you mustn't worry. I'm quite a tough old thing really.'
With a swift, appraising glance, Felix fixed in his mind an initial impression of Luis Pérez's widow, knowing it would inevitably alter, not necessarily helpfully, with every word that passed between them. She was a good-looking woman in, he estimated, her early forties, still quite slight, about five foot five in height, with fair hair, somewhat faded but not noticeably grey. She had applied lipstick. Her eyes were red from crying but it was not yet a face ravaged by grief. That would come soon enough, no doubt. There was perhaps some evidence in her pleasant physiognomy of her claimed toughness but she was not by any stretch an "old thing."
'Where would you like me to start?' she asked.
'Perhaps from yesterday morning. You were preparing for the dinner party, presumably?'
Julia sighed and shook her head. 'Yesterday morning! It seems more like a week ago. What did I do? Oh yes, I went ashore, to see the caterers mainly, and buy one or two odds and ends. We hadn't used them before, and I needed to check a few things. That was after breakfast, of course. Winifred and Connie went with me. You've met Connie, I gather.'
'Yes. A charming young woman.'
Julia smiled wanly. 'You seem to have made rather a hit with her. Anyway, we had a coffee ashore and came back at lunchtime, bringing a piano tuner with us. He went back with the launch later. There wasn't much for me to do after that. I saw our chef, Giuseppe, about the menu and tidied up a bit. The caterers were just here to help him and wait at table; they weren't expected to cook, although, in the event, I think the woman, Mrs Teague, did a bit with him. Then we had a little emergency, a plumbing leak, so I had to see Captain Simmons about it. And then what? Oh yes, I went looking for Effie, my maid, but couldn't find her. It turned out she'd been balling wool with Winifred. Then I discovered the harbour launch was coming and the caterers' boat had arrived, so by the time I'd sorted them out I had to think about getting ready.'
'What was your husband doing all this time?'
Julia looked doubtful. 'I don't really know. I suppose he and poor Humphrey were working, preparing for their meeting.'
'Why do you say poor Humphrey?'
'Luis sacked him! Last night. I've only just heard.'
Felix affected surprise. 'Really? Did you have any warning that he might do that?'
'No, not an inkling; they've always worked so well together. Not that Luis ever talked to me much about business, or anything else really.' She hesitated for a moment. 'Inspector, I suppose I might as well tell you, since you'll probably find out anyway, that he was rather unwell. He was Roman Catholic, of course, and I think perhaps he'd begun to feel he hadn't much time left and that he'd strayed rather. Spiritually, I mean. I don't think he was a happy man.'
'He told you that, about his faith?'
'Oh no, he'd never discuss it with anyone else. It was just straws in the wind really.'
'If you don't mind me asking, are you Roman Catholic yourself?'
'No, but Luis was more or less lapsed, so it's never really been a problem.'
'What made you think he'd gone back to it?'
'He'd taken to reading his bible – at least, he always seemed to have one with him – and, you know, religious books. And once I found him on his knees, praying, although he said he was looking for something. And then, when we arrived here, there was this letter waiting for him. Well, quite a few letters, of course, but one in particular and after that he began to seem very pensive and kept getting it out and reading it.'
'Did you ask him what was in it?'
'Oh no, I'd never do that. I'm only telling you these things, Inspector, because I though they might explain . . . I mean, I wondered if in his funny mood he might have upset Olofsson in some way, like he upset dear Humphrey, because why on earth would he attack him in that terrible, savage manner otherwise? He's always seemed such a nice young man, very quiet and diligent. There has to be a reason, doesn't there? Unless he was drunk perhaps? I suppose he might have been. It was all so sudden, and after that ghastly meal, and then that horrible row, with Humphrey shouting so, and everybody listening, and oh, Mr Felix, I really don't know how I'm going to get through this. How do people do it?' And taking out a tiny handkerchief, she tried to stem the sudden flow of tears.
Shock wearing off, thought Felix. Damn! He fetched out the spare handkerchief he kept for such an eventuality. 'Here, have this, Señora. Laundry-fresh.'
'Thank you, Inspector,' sniffed Julia. 'That's very kind. I'm so sorry. I promised myself faithfully I wouldn't make a scene.'
'Senora, you've suffered about the worst thing that can happen to anyone. I wouldn't expect anything else. Do you want to leave the rest until later?'
But she blew her nose, dabbed at her eyes a little and shook her head. 'No. I want to tell you about Olofsson, what I saw.'
'All right, if you're sure. But take your time; there's no hurry. May we start from when Señor Pérez came out of the study? I believe he spoke to Mr Bainbridge?'
'Yes he did. I didn't understand then what it meant, that he must have sacked poor Humphrey. I was just relieved the meeting was over, although I could see he was angry. He never shouts or anything, but I can always tell, even if no-one else can. Then he went forrard, and I was worried he might be going to see my son, Maurice. He's not Luis' son, he's from my first marriage. His father was killed in the war. During dinner, Luis sent him to his cabin for insolence – I didn't blame him for that, becaus
e he really had been very rude to him – but I was afraid there would be another scene.'
'How long after Señor Pérez went forrard did you follow him?'
'Not long, only five or ten minutes.'
'And did he see Maurice?'
'No, because Maurice wasn't there. Later I discovered he'd been in Effie's cabin.'
'Really? Are your maid and Maurice friends, then, that he should go to her cabin?'
'Oh yes. Well, they're friendly. Everyone is. You can't really have a below-stairs on a yacht. Everyone mucks in together. Although Luis . . . well, he didn't understand that. And Maurice is terribly innocent; he hasn't really discovered girls yet. It's not like they're — you know. Anyway, he wasn't in his room, so I asked in the galley if they'd seen Luis and someone said they thought he'd gone forrard, so I went too.'
'At what time would this have been?'
'It was about nine forty-five. I know that because there's a clock on the bulkhead over the corridor and I always look at it.'
Felix glanced with satisfaction at Rattigan. A time! 'And then you went on deck?'
'Yes. Well no, not immediately. I went up the companionway and looked out and there was Olofsson almost opposite. He was leaning over the rail as if he were looking at something in the water. I didn't want to go up while he was there.'
'Why not?'
Julia looked embarrassed. 'Because he was didn't have any clothes on, Inspector. It was a bit of a shock.
'I see. You were able to see that in the dark? That he was naked, I mean.'
'Oh yes. The light was behind me, and he was only about ten feet away. I was afraid he might turn around and see me and I ducked down for a moment – just seconds really – but then I thought that was a bit silly and I looked, but he'd gone.'
'Do you know where he went?'
'No! He'd completely disappeared. He obviously didn't come past me, which he would have had to do to get back to the fo'c'sle, so I thought he must be on deck somewhere and I didn't know what to do. I knew Luis must have gone up there, so I ran all the way back through the ship and went up the aft companionway. I knew Humphrey was on deck, you see, because we'd seen him go up earlier, and Señor Escobar, and Captain Simmons of course, so I felt safe. I went to the rail to try and see what Oloffson had been looking at, but it was very dark down in the water, and then I heard a splash and I just knew immediately what it was. I think I knew as soon as I saw Olofsson that he'd done something wicked, I don't know why, and there was Luis in the water, just drifting away from me. It was horrid, Inspector, just horrid!'
Death on a Dark Sea (The Inspector Felix Mysteries Book 2) Page 7
