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

by R. A. Bentley

  'Can I just make sure I've got this right?' said Felix. 'Your name is Maurice LeFevre, your mother is Señora Julia Pérez and your stepfather was Señor Luis Pérez.'

  Maurice gave a little nod. 'Maurice Pascal LeFevre, yes.'

  'This must be very upsetting for you, Mr LeFevre. I'll try to keep it short.'

  'Thank you, but I'm not upset.'

  'No?'

  'I hated Pérez. I rejoice at his death.'

  'I see. No doubt, however, you're concerned for your mother?'

  'She's better off without him.'

  'Do you think she feels that way?'

  'No, but she will.'

  Felix took a breath. 'Perhaps you will kindly take me through the events of yesterday, Mr Lefevre, from your particular point of view.'

  'Very well. I got up at about nine-thirty and immediately began to draw. I draw continuously.'

  'This was in your cabin?'

  'Yes.'

  'No breakfast?'

  'I don't eat breakfast. Giuseppe brings me coffee. I drew and made notes until lunch, which I ate in the saloon.'

  'Alone?'

  'No, with Effie, Mamma's maid. We chatted for a while until Mamma, Winifred and Connie returned from ashore. Do you prefer surnames?'

  'It doesn't matter. Use what you're most comfortable with.'

  'Christian names, then. They brought a piano tuner back with them. He turned out to be almost blind and rather a character. I decided to do some studies of him at work while Connie had her swim. When she got out I induced her to sit for me. I'm principally a couturier and prefer a live model. We went on deck and stayed there until about seven, after which we changed for the party.'

  'So for you it was a working day?'

  'I don't see it as work, but yes, if you like.'

  'If there's time, I'd quite like to see some of it.'

  Maurice gave him an appraising look. 'Do you follow fashion, Inspector?'

  'I like to keep abreast of it. Where did you buy your outfit?'

  'New York. Do you like it?'

  'Yes I do. Did you see anyone else during the afternoon?'

  'Effie brought us tea. Winifred was with us, knitting, and Effie returned for a while. Mamma came up for a moment or two. Olofsson for a few minutes.'

  'What was Olofsson doing?'

  'Supervising the arrival of the caterers, whom we also briefly saw.'

  'Tell me about the party.'

  Maurice immediately looked sulky. 'What do you want to know about it?'

  'As much as you can remember.'

  'It was an unmitigated disaster as I'm sure you've already heard. I've nothing useful to say about it.'

  'Not at all, Mr LeFevre. As an artist you'll be more observant than most. You may have noticed something that no-one else did.'

  'I only notice what interests me, Inspector. What interests me is line, colour, beauty.'

  'All right, let's consider that. I understand Miss Harrison wore a dress you'd created. How did people react to it?'

  'The response, I understand, was favourable. She's a little too full in the figure for current fashions but it looked well enough. Mamma dressed appallingly as usual. The girl Ruby's ensemble lacked refinement but was à la mode and rather charming, as is she. Alice is a frump but has good bones and would make a nice subject for improvement. I should like to dress her.'

  An imp on his shoulder tempted Felix to ask whether he'd like to undress her but he firmly ignored it. 'I understand you were upset by the non-arrival of your friend?'

  'Yes I was. I formed the notion that my stepfather had prevented him from attending. I accept now that he probably didn't. At the time I was very angry, but I didn't kill him.'

  'I wasn't about to suggest that you did. What happened when you left the party?'

  'He pursued me along the deck and ordered me to my cabin.'

  'What did he say to you, exactly?'

  'Only that he'd deal with me later, like in a bad novel. Fortunately he never got the chance.'

  'And did you go to your cabin?'

  'Yes. I stayed there for a while to calm down. He'd frightened me and I was rather tremulous. Then I went to see Effie. She had the evening off.'

  'Thereby hoping to avoid another encounter with Pérez?'

  'I suppose so, and for the company. We talked for a while until we heard the rumpus on deck. Then we went to see what was happening.'

  'Which way did you go?'

  'Up the forrard companionway.'

  'Did anyone see you?'

  'Going on deck? I've no idea. Effie will confirm that we did.'

  'Did you pass anyone, coming or going?'

  'I don't think so.'

  'What about when you arrived aft? Surely someone saw you then?'

  'I suppose someone must have. There was nothing I could do, and after a minute or two I came away. I'm not a hypocrite; I'm glad he's dead. I didn't think anyone would want to hear that.'

  'What did you do then?'

  'I returned to my cabin and stayed up until Connie came by. We exchanged a few words and I went to bed.'

  Felix observed him tight-lipped, his head on one side. He pulled forward his case and took out the box containing the torch. 'Is this yours?'

  Maurice peered at it indifferently. 'No.'

  'It isn't your torch? Then can you explain why it's covered in your fingerprints?'

  'I've no idea. I've never seen it before.'

  'It was discovered in the caterers' boat.'

  'I haven't been in their boat.'

  'You might have thrown it in. Did you throw it in?'

  'No. I've neither seen it before nor handled it.'

  'Do you own a torch?'

  'No.'

  'Are you saying these are not your prints?'

  'I don't see how they can be. Perhaps they're very similar to mine, or even identical. It must happen.'

  Felix glanced at Rattigan. He had on his note-taking face and only the slightest drawing together of his eyebrows betrayed disapproval. 'Mr LeFevre, I must remind you that we are investigating the crime of murder. Nothing could be more serious. This torch and its perfectly clear fingerprints strongly suggest that you were in the caterers' boat at some point. Other evidence suggests it was around the time of your stepfather's murder. You may even have seen it happen. Don't you think it would be wise to confirm your movements, if only to eliminate you from our enquiries?'

  'I'm sorry, Inspector. I don't know what else I can say. I haven't been in the caterers' boat and I don't know anything about the torch.'

  'That's a nasty, heartless, self-absorbed little toe-rag,' growled Rattigan. 'What on earth does Miss Harrison see in him?'

  Felix grinned affectionately at him. It was easy to see why his mother approved of Teddy. 'He's hard to love, I'll grant you,' he admitted, 'but he's very young, you know, and he behaved exactly as Miss Harrison warned us he would.'

  'Humph, he's spoiled. He wants all that nonsense knocking out of him before it gets out of hand. That's a neat little alibi he's cooked up with Effie Smith, isn't it? We don't have to guess what she gets out of it.'

  'Possibly not. Though we don't know for certain she was with Olofsson last night. And if she was, I doubt she'll own up to it. Time for a recap, I think. What have we got?

  They took out their pipes and notebooks.

  'Surprisingly, the only reasonably firm time we've got in this whole business is nine-forty-five pm when the Senora passed the galley,' said Rattigan. 'The staff saw Pérez alive ten minutes or so earlier, say at nine thirty-five. They seem to have been the last to do so. No time stated for finding him in the water, although Simmons mentioned nine-thirty to ten o'clock.'

  'Well, let's work around that. The Senora checks on Maurice, finds him not at home and pops into the galley where she orders coffee for her guests. At about nine forty-five, by her account, some ten minutes after he was last seen, she mounts the forrard companionway, sees Olofsson's hairy bum, gets the wind up, scurries through the s
hip, up the aft companionway and across the deck where she discovers hubby going down for the third time. Say another ten minutes for all that and you've got a rough maximum of twenty minutes for murder most foul. However, chances are that Olofsson had either done the deed himself or had heard or witnessed it being done, so that narrows it down to as little as ten minutes. It ought to be easy. Where was everyone between nine thirty-five and nine forty-five?'

  'Well, we have the Bainbridges, the Harrison ladies and Ruby Cotton in the saloon, Baker probably in the study, Escobar on deck, and the Baker kids in the chartroom with Simmons, or about to be. That last needs checking, of course.'

  'Yes, we'd best have them up next. According to the Señora, Olofsson was on deck at least some of that time. Effie is uncertain. Big question-mark against young Maurice. What about Humphrey?'

  'Tricky. He was all over the place. Taffrail with Escobar, then wandering the deck, so he says, then with Simmons. He might have done it after leaving Escobar but it's tight.'

  'Grabs a knife on the way up, collars Escobar, argues with him, they part, encounters Pérez, stabs him and heaves him overboard. Doesn't sound very plausible, does it? He couldn't know he'd conveniently meet Pérez on deck, alone and in the dark. Would he really pick up a knife on the off chance? Or do sailors habitually carry one, even with black tie? And is a fit of pique over a contract a sufficient reason to kill a man you've worked with daily for seven years? I don't think so, not for the likes of Harrison anyway.'

  'Could have been slowly building, though – hatred of Pérez – and this was the last straw. And he might have taken a knife with him in case he had trouble with Escobar. If Baker knows his reputation it's possible that Harrison knows it too.'

  'If that really is his reputation. We only have Baker's word for it, although I suppose that might have been enough for Harrison. However, there's a world of difference between carrying a knife in self-defence and killing a man in cold blood. The odds must still be on Olofsson, I think, with Maurice and Harrison a poor second and Escobar an outsider. Did you check those oilskins, by the way?'

  'Yes, I made a note.' Rattigan turned over a few pages. 'No knives or anything else in the oilskins, but there are three reefer jackets, one of which has a clasp knife in the pocket, among other bits and bobs. Doesn't looks recently used and has a rounded tip, so not much good for stabbing. Also the murderer would hardly be likely to have put it back afterwards. The second one has some keys but nothing else. Nothing in the third, which looks like Maurice's, given its size. No ladies' coats. I suppose they keep them in their cabins.'

  'We must check whose is which, I suppose,' said Felix, making a note of it. He heaved a disgruntled sigh. 'I can't tell you why, but quite apart from Simmons' touching conviction that he's innocent, Olofsson just doesn't feel right to me. If all I had to go on was instinct, I'd put Baker at the top of the list.'

  'Why Baker, particularly?'

  'I don't know. Silly reasons. He's too darned relaxed about it all, and I suspect there's more to him than meets the eye. He might be approaching his threescore and ten but he's nobody's fool, and looks as tough as old boots.'

  'Hmm, I know what you mean. Can we make a case against him?'

  'Not a hope. And not for want of trying, believe me. We know he was in the study with Harrison and Pérez because Simmons and Escobar both say so, and because people could hear him. Not much scope for connivance there, unless they're all in it. I doubt he could have crept up on deck after the meeting without someone in the saloon noticing, especially with Mrs Harrison facing in that direction, unless, again, she's shielding him. And again, like Humphrey, he couldn't know he'd find Pérez on deck and alone. Anyway, if he had gone up, he would hardly have risked slipping back down again, which he would have had to do in order for Bainbridge to hear him say, "What in tarnation?"'

  A sudden, longed-for noise made Felix turn to the window. 'Praise the Lord! Here's the police launch at last. Lets get that report.'

  Yardley came in. 'I just wanted to remind you about Mrs Teague, sir, the catering lady. You said she could go home.'

  'Yes, all right. Throw off her leg irons and bring her blinking into the light. Ah, Sergeant Talbot, we are exceedingly glad to see you.'

  'I was hanging on for the blood results, sir,' said Talbot, handing over an envelope. 'But time was getting on and I thought you'd be pleased to get this.'

  'I am indeed, Sergeant. Thank you.'

  'What's in the bottles?' asked Rattigan.

  'Boiled ginger — present from the doctor. He said you looked as though you'd be glad of it.'

  'That's a very kindly thought, isn't it, sir?'

  'Yes it is,' said Felix distractedly. He was already studying the report before passing it around the others. 'Note especially,' he said, 'the description of the wound.'

  "'Traces of paint or pigment on inner distal edge of sternum and elsewhere, probably triplumbic tetroxide,"' frowned Yardley. 'What's that when it's at home? Oh, it's here: red lead. Well, I'm glad he told us.'

  "'Shape of wound and marks to sternum suggest a blade of significant thickness, approximately half an inch wide and at least seven inches long,"' mused Rattigan. 'Odd sort of knife.'

  'Irishman's tin opener,' said Nash casually.

  'What did you say?' said Felix.

  'Big old screwdriver, sir, in the fo'c'sle. You called it an Irishman's tin opener. It had red lead on it. I thought for a second it was blood.'

  'So did I. How do you know it was red lead?'

  Nash smiled. 'I'd like a pound for every gallon I used in the war, sir — rust bashing.'

  'Did you dab it, Yardley?'

  'No, sir. I —'

  'Never mind. Best do it now and fetch it back here. Rattigan, dig out a box for him. In fact, I'll come with you.'

  They found Constable Buckler and Sven playing draughts. Sven remained bent over the board but his eyes sullenly followed them.

  'Hello gentlemen, said Felix, more brightly than he felt. 'Who's winning?'

  'Olofsson, sir, twenty-one to eighteen.'

  'Where did you get the game from?'

  'Young Effie brought it in with our lunch.'

  'Come in a lot, does she?'

  'Pretty regular, sir. She's our contact with the world, like.'

  Felix smiled. 'Never mind, Buckler. They also serve, eh?'

  Edging past the table, Yardley retrieved the suddenly important piece of evidence and placed it reverently in its box.'

  'Dark in here,' said Felix. 'You'd best do it outside. Mr Olofsson, do you recognise this screwdriver by any chance?'

  Sven peered briefly at it. 'Ja! We lose. Where you find?'

  'Yardley glanced at his superior officer. 'Behind that end bunk.'

  'Ha! That is Jimmy's bunk.'

  'The man who died?'

  'Ja.'

  'How long has it been lost?' asked Felix.

  Sven frowned doubtfully. 'Long time. We use . . .' He appeared to search for the right word. 'Chisel. We use chisel. Old one. Why you ask?'

  'You used an old chisel to stir paint? When?'

  'Yesterday. Open tin.'

  'Where did you do this?'

  'We mend Señora's head. Not paint — sealant, for joint.'

  'In her cabin?'

  'Behind, in bilge. We use hatch from bathroom.'

  'What happened to the chisel afterwards?'

  Sven shrugged. 'Skipper clear it up.'

  'Not you?'

  He shook his head. 'I see to boat.'

  'The caterer's boat?'

  'Ja.'

  'Thank you, Mr Olofsson. You've been very helpful.'

  'Inspector.'

  'Yes?'

  Raising his arm, Sven mimed a stabbing motion. 'Chisel kill Pérez?'

  'We don't know. It might have done. First we have to find it.'

  'Skipper didn't kill Pérez! Skipper good man.'

  'We've no reason to think it was Captain Simmons.'

  'Then you think I did this? I did
n't do this!'

  'I'm not accusing anyone at the moment, Mr Olofsson. And while I think of it, was Jim Parker a special friend of yours?'

  Sven considered this. 'Not special. All crew same.'

  'You must be very sad, though, that he died.'

  'Ja, sad.' Suddenly he scowled. 'Pérez say if we don't talk, he give mother Jim's pay. What happen now?'

  'What we need to know,' said Felix, sipping his ginger, 'is who had access to that chisel. No access and we can probably discount them, which ought to help no end.'

  'Outside of Olofsson and Simmons,' said Nash. 'I suppose it would depend on what Simmons did with it after they'd finished their repairs. I doubt we'll find it now.'

  'No, it's probably somewhere on the seabed, and even if we could recover it, it mightn't tell us much.'

  Yardley looked furtively out the window and lowered his voice. 'Might Simmons have done it himself, do you think? You can't necessarily leave him out.'

  'Surely not,' objected Nash. 'The man's a war hero!'

  Felix looked pensive. 'That doesn't make him a saint, John, as you should well know. I agree it's a bit like accusing the vicar of pinching the collection, but he didn't care for Pérez any more than the rest of them. And thinking about it, he has no alibi for the critical period. Harrison and the Baker kids only arrived a minute or two before the Señora cried out.'

  'That's as far as we know,' said Rattigan. 'We only have Harrison's word for it.'

  'All right, let's have the Bakers up here. Do you want to fetch them? Bring Ruby Cotton too. You gents know what I'm going to ask?'

  'Look for mucky chisels, sir?'

  'You've got it.'

  Chapter 7

  'Thank you for coming, ladies and gentleman,' said Felix. 'Miss Cotton, I only have a few questions to ask you, so I'll take you first. Were you in the saloon all the evening, from after the meal?'

  'Yes, Inspector. Alice and Robert came upstairs later to have a look round but I stayed behind. I was talking to Lucia and Mrs Harrison.'