'If he doesn't want that toast,' said Nash, watching them go, 'I wouldn't mind it.'
'Go on then, you gannet.'
Again they negotiated the gyrating aft companionway, but they'd barely set foot in the lobby when Felix felt the now familiar cold sweat and dizziness.
'Has anyone checked these oilskins, do you suppose, sir?' asked Rattigan. 'For yachtsman's knives and so on.'
'Doubt it. You might as well do it now. I need the loo.'
Passing with dignified demeanour through the saloon and increasingly rapidly down the aft corridor, Felix threw open the bathroom door, struggled with its recalcitrant bolt and sank to his knees. For a moment he was preternaturally aware of the marks of rubber soles on the floor tiles, the crying of gulls, and the aft boarding ladder casting crazy shadows on the white porcelain; then his world shrank to a nightmare of dry-heaving until he no longer cared what happened to him if only it would stop.
'You all right, sir?'
'Give me a minute or two, Teddy. Let yourself into the study.' He handed out the key, and pumping the wash basin full of water immersed his face in it before gazing at the haggard wreck in the mirror. Unlikely, he thought, to appeal to tawny-haired beauties twelve years his junior. Had he really "made a hit"? He was inclined to doubt it. He'd seen too many men make fools of themselves with younger women and didn't plan to be another.
Señor Pérez's study proved to be a narrow but attractive cabin, panelled throughout in beech with darker parquetry borders; a motif reflected in the furniture. It was brightly lit by a long skylight and a pair of ports. Two large desks faced each other, and he was surprised to discover Humphrey Harrison at one of them, surrounded by open files and folders.
'It's all right, Inspector, I've already been chastised. I have my own key and it didn't occur to me that you might not want me in here. I've so much to do, and thought I should make a start. It's all very difficult, as you might imagine.'
'I'm sure it must be, sir,' said Felix, feeling too poorly to grumble. 'I understand from Mr Bainbridge that the business as presently constituted is unlikely to survive.'
'Yes, I'm afraid that's true. He will also have told you I was effectively sacked. Or if not, I'd have felt obliged to resign. Nevertheless I feel a certain responsibility towards the staff, and to Julia. I'm really the only one who can sort this mess out.'
'Not Bainbridge?'
'He wouldn't know where to start. I was the defacto chief cook and bottle-washer, although it was never official. If he's got any sense, he'll take his severance and clear out.'
'Severance?'
'Three months' pay. It's in his contract.'
'Oh I see. Well I don't think, from what he said, that he expected to come back. He seems more concerned about his wife.'
'So he should be. Constance is desperate to go to her, of course. Lucia is her best friend. Female friend anyway, unless you count Maurice as one, which you might as well do.'
Felix conveyed his understanding with a polite smile. 'Well the sooner we finish, the sooner she can go ashore. If it's not too inconvenient, and as you're here, might we ask you a few questions? Then we'll have to turn you out for a while, I'm afraid.'
Humphrey sighed and sat back in his extremely comfortable-looking chair. 'Yes, all right, but try not to wreck the joint; this is going to be hard enough as it is. I was just wondering, do you know when you're likely to release the body? We need to think about the funeral.'
'Well, we're awaiting the results of the postmortem, of course, but I don't expect it to take more than a day or two at most. In fact, from our own point of view, I'm eager to have some news today. What caused the row last night?'
Humphrey smiled cynically. 'I like your interview technique, Inspector: provoke an indiscretion with a deliberate non sequitur.'
Not at all, sir. Sergeant Rattigan will tell you I have a grasshopper mind; it could land anywhere.'
'Is that what it is? Well, I could explain it in a sentence or two, but it would make more sense if you knew a thing or two about Luis first. I suppose you like to learn about the victim? Was he loved or hated? Did he have enemies? Who stood to benefit from his death? That sort of thing.'
'Very much — pray continue,' said Felix. 'If you don't mind, I'll park myself on this desk and Rattigan will sit behind it furiously scribbling.'
'Placing yourself intimidatingly above the interviewee, eh? Handy to see the guilt and fear in his eyes. Mind if I smoke?'
'Please do, I'll join you.'
Humphrey pushed towards him a magnificent chinoiserie box in gold and mother of pearl. 'Have one of mine, they're Murads, hand rolled. Well now, Juan Luis Pérez y Delgado. Humble background, apprenticed at fourteen to a gun maker and within a few years had taken over the business. After the Armistice he saw the possibilities in the mountains of arms lying about the place, and before the combatants had so much as climbed out of their trenches he was buying them as and where they lay, no questions asked. Borrowed up to the hilt, of course — huge risk. He was one on his own, old Luis, almost pathologically single-minded in his pursuit of wealth. Sometimes he seemed more like a machine than a human being: a brilliant, ruthless, money-making automaton. I never saw him laugh, or even smile. Quite disturbing until you got used to it.'
'Difficult to deal with?'
'No, because he was always right. There was never any logical basis for dissent. On the occasions when I had misgivings I soon saw them to be groundless. In the end I was content simply to implement his plans and watch them come, inevitably and profitably, to fruition. We were all thoroughly in awe of him.'
'I can imagine. What about his home life? Any outside interests?'
'Well now. For years I couldn't have told you. I suppose he must have had some but he never talked about them, or anything else except business. Then, right out of the blue, he said he understood I sailed a bit. Wanted to know all about it. I suggested that he and Julia come out in our boat, a little five-tonner, and to my amazement they did. Then, on the strength of one afternoon's pootle round the bay, he announced he was going to build the ultimate cruising yacht.' Humphrey gestured around him. 'This is the result.'
'She's a beauty.'
'Yes, she is. Absurdly overdone in the luxury department, but a splendid vessel nonetheless. And then, of course, there had to be the shakedown cruise. Would I come too? Naturally I said yes.'
'He surely enjoyed that?'
Humphrey shrugged. 'One has to assume so. I wish I could say I did, but running a business like ours from a yacht proved profoundly difficult and most of it seemed to devolve on me. As time passed, however, the work began to fall away and eventually he announced that on his return to Spain he'd retire. He was already as rich as Croesus, and it was perfectly reasonable that he should. I just wish he'd done it before we sailed. I wondered how he'd fill his time, but while we were in New York a crate of books arrived. Philosophy, poetry, theology, you name it. There are some on that shelf behind you. He began to read voraciously. Only the race took him away from them. He was even right about that, of course. We won.'
'At the cost of a life.'
Humphrey sighed and shook his head. 'You sound like my daughter. No-one wanted the lad's death; it was an accident. What were we to do? Life has to go on. It was on the voyage home, incidently, that I learned that Luis was seriously ill. That explained the theology of course; he knew his days were numbered and was doing his homework. It was typical of him that he had to have all the facts.'
'Did he go to confession?'
'Humphrey chuckled. 'That would have been a marathon wouldn't it?'
'What about Baker and Escobar?'
'I'm coming to them. Baker buys from us — rifles, mostly. He's a regular and valued customer and a personal friend. There's an insatiable demand for small-arms in the US, as you probably know. With Luis' contacts we've been able to buy at rock-bottom prices, sell cheaply and still make a handsome profit. The latest consignment is already in our Texas warehouse. As far a
s I was concerned – am concerned – they're Baker's. Nothing was signed, but we had an understanding. Then, when we arrived, there was a letter waiting for Luis, from Mexico. It wasn't the first. He never said what was in them but when Escobar turned up I guessed. He's the buyer for the Cristeros.'
'The Mexican rebels.'
'You've heard of them? You impress me, Inspector. Mexican politics are pretty obscure to most people, and dashed complicated. They're always fighting of course – they never stop – but this time it's religiously based: a devoutly Catholic, largely rural revolt against a determinedly secular government. It seems pretty clear to me that Escobar exploited Luis's newly discovered piety to persuade him to back the rebels and supply them with guns — Baker's guns. He struck lucky. At any other time in his career, Luis would have sent him away with a flea in his ear. He even extended him credit! We have never, ever, given credit, and rightly. If they lose, and they probably will, we'll have lost the lot. It's not that it would matter very much in the greater scheme of things, but it was his last big deal, and in striking it he broke every one of his rules — our rules. The rules we've lived by for seven years. The rules he's often reiterated to me. I was appalled and offended and I told him so. I shouldn't have shouted at him, and of course I regret that now. I suppose I had some idea I might change his mind.'
'What did Baker make of all this?'
'Oh, nothing bothers Luther much. He's the most sanguine of fellows. He was cross, naturally, but he buys from all over the place. He hasn't lost anything over it except a bit of time. It was I who was the angry one.'
For a few moments Felix contemplatively stroked his long chin as he waited for Rattigan to catch up with his notes. The cabin relentlessly rocked, his stomach was raw, his throat burned and there was a steady pounding in his head. He wanted to sit in Harrison's nice comfy chair or, better still, lie down somewhere and go to sleep. 'What about the Señora?' he asked. 'When did he marry her?'
'Nineteen twenty-one.'
'Was it a happy marriage?'
Humphrey's expression abruptly changed. 'Oh no, I'm sorry, Inspector. I don't think it's my place to comment on that.'
'No? All right. Do you know if he's left you anything, in his will?'
Humphrey looked surprised. 'I've really no idea. I doubt it! But if he has, and I'd known about it, I think I could have contained my impatience for a few more months, don't you?'
'Other beneficiaries?'
'Same answer — I don't know. One assumes Julia and Maurice. He has no other living relatives, as far as I know.'
'Did you like him?'
'You're looking for that tell-tale flicker of loathing? You won't find it here, Inspector. He wasn't a likable man. I'd go so far as to say he was an unpleasant man, but we got on well enough. In a way, I felt rather sorry for him. I don't know of anyone who actively hated him.'
'His guns will have killed people. Rather a lot of them, I should imagine.'
'So do motor cars. We're just supplying a need; we don't tell people what to do with them.'
Felix decided not to visit that argument. 'What were you doing when he was attacked?'
'I don't know when that was, but if it was just before Julia found him I was probably at the taffrail, trying to appeal to Escobar's better nature.'
'Without success?'
'There was never any chance of it. I knew that, of course, but I felt I had to try.'
'So you were still talking to him when Señora Pérez cried out?'
Humphrey hesitated. 'Er, no, not quite. I stamped off and wandered the deck for a few minutes. I suppose I could have encountered old Luis and stuck a knife in him, but I didn't have one handy and it's hardly my style. Then I decided to call on Simmons in the chartroom. Shortly after that, the twins walked in, and a minute or two later Julia cried out and we all went to her.'
'How many minutes would you say you were alone?'
'I doubt it was five.'
'Did you see anyone else?'
'No, I don't think so. It was dark by then, of course.'
'Do you suppose anyone saw you?'
'If they did, they haven't said so. It's all very difficult, isn't it? Someone on this ship is a murderer and we don't know who it is. It doesn't encourage you to go around chatting to people.'
'You don't think it was Olofsson, then?'
'It might very well have been, but you clearly aren't sure of him, or you'd have arrested him by now.'
'So who gets the guns?'
'I don't know. I shall have to consult the company lawyer, who's in Madrid. Luther's got a verbal contract but Escobar's got his written one. My money's still on Luther, but much depends on who technically owned them. They might have been in Luis' name, as opposed to the company's, which they sometimes were. Normally it wouldn't have mattered very much. Now it does.'
'Why don't you just look at the contract and see?'
Humphrey gestured at the chaos around him. 'Because, Inspector, I can't find the bally thing!'
'Nervous,' said Rattigan, when he'd had gone. 'Frightened, even.'
Scanning the papers on Pérez's desk, Felix nodded his agreement. 'It's amazing, isn't it, the ways in which people react to a policeman? He's going to hate himself for showing off like that, and probably us as well. Damned nuisance the room wasn't sealed. Still, no point in crying over spilt milk. What did you think of him? Distressingly amoral, of course, but I'd say pretty intelligent, which makes his boorish behaviour all the more surprising.'
'So does his daughter, sir, if you don't mind me saying so. Strike one as intelligent, I mean.'
Felix looked sharply at his sergeant, saw the futility of protest and let it go. 'I must tell you, Teddy, that I'm very disappointed by that young lady.'
'Why is that?'
'I caught her in the caterers' boat, searching, I suspect, for Maurice LeFevre's torch. She came and offered us refreshments, rather obviously dropped the blinds, and assuming we'd have our nosebags on, set out to rescue it.'
'Was it Maurice's torch?'
'His were the only dabs on it. It seems reasonable to suppose it was he who half-levered the engine cover off. Probably he planned to drop away on the tide and crank the engine out of earshot. Question is, did he witness his stepfather's murder? According to Nash's report he could well have been there at about the right time. And if he was, he'd have had a seat in the stalls, so to speak. He would surely have seen him go into the water.'
'Could he have done it himself, do you think? They'd had words, after all.'
'It's possible. But if he's the one I think he is, he's only a little chap, and probably isn't strong enough. He's our best bet for a witness though.'
'And what about Humphrey, now that we've seen him? By his own admission he was alone for a while, and at about the right time.'
'He has to be on the list. But again I wonder if he could have managed it single-handed. Or am I making too much of that? He's rattled about something, though, and it's not necessarily the lost contract.'
'Maybe they were up to something else he doesn't want us to know about.'
'That wouldn't surprise me. Plenty of dubious deals in that line of work, I expect. And thinking about the contract, how could one lose it? You'd expect it to be in the room somewhere.'
'Unless Pérez took it with him.'
'Or Baker pinched it. He seems to have been alone in here for a while.'
'Yes, he might have. In which case Escobar needs to watch out; he's got the only other copy.'
'That's a complication we don't need!'
There was a knock at the door and Yardley put his head round it. 'All done in the sail-locker, sir.'
'Come on in, Paul. Anything to interesting?
'Oh yes, sir,' smiled Yardley. 'We found some interesting fag ends and lots of dabs. The butts are Malboro, which made it worth a close search, and sure enough two have lipstick on them. Most of the dabs don't appear to correspond with any we took today so presumably belong to the missing crew members,
but there are some of Simmons' and Olofsson's, a couple of Humphrey Harrison's, some nice ones of Effie Smith's, and —'
Suddenly Rattigan put a finger to his lips and leaping to the door, threw it open, revealing a shocked-looking Nash.
'I say, have a care, Rattigan! You nearly made me drop my camera.'
'Well it's your own fault for creeping about like that.'
'How did you know I was out here then, if I was creeping?'
'I heard a thump.'
'That was my tripod. I don't want to keep de-mounting it.'
'Just come in and shut the door,' said Felix impatiently. 'Where were Miss Smith's prints, Yardley? And best keep your voice down.'
'Ah, well,' said Yardley. 'We could easily have missed them, you know. But then we thought —'
'I thought,' said Nash.
'Yes, all right, Nash thought, what was a girl doing in a sail-locker, all tarted up with lipstick? Nice private place for a bit of how's yer father, maybe, what with the crew ashore and a dinner party going on.'
'All right, Paul,' sighed Felix. 'Have your moment of glory.'
'Well, sir. We reckoned there were only so many ways you could do it in there. The sail racks are too narrow to lie on, and it wouldn't be very comfy on the floor, what with the open duckboards and all, but if she bent and gripped the sticking up edge of the middle rack —'
'Why that?' interrupted Rattigan. 'I can think of umpteen ways.'
'Oh? What would they be, Teddy?' asked Nash innocently. 'Care to demonstrate?'
'I'm not here to give you sex lessons, laddie. Ask your father.'
'I didn't say it was the only way,' protested Yardley. 'Anyway, I reckoned we'd find some nice dabs on it, which we did.'
'And Olofsson's?'
'Associated with them,' said Yardley primly.
Death on a Dark Sea (The Inspector Felix Mysteries Book 2) Page 9
