Guy heard someone coming in through the door of the cabin and left the bedroom, exiting through the hallway. He’d return later. Whatever she had to face when she woke up wasn’t going to be pretty; she may as well have her rest first.
Crossing to the other side of the ship, Guy found Sir Clive’s room quickly. He knocked and Logan opened the door, pulling a pained face as he did so. Guy entered and immediately Sir Clive started complaining about being illegally held against his will, which he seemed to mind only marginally less than the fact that he had missed luncheon. Guy let Sir Clive blow off steam before he spoke.
‘I apologise, Sir Clive, but I am investigating a murder inquiry—’
‘What? Joseph Fowler is dead?’
Too late, Guy realised he had broken the news. ‘Yes, I’m afraid so.’
Sir Clive sat down on a chair and put his head in his hands. ‘Oh, God.’
‘What was Jim Evans doing, hiding in your cabin?’
Sir Clive looked up. ‘He was?’
Guy examined Sir Clive’s face closely. He looked confused, and it seemed genuine.
‘Are you denying knowledge of Mr Evans’ presence in this room?’
‘I am.’
‘You are aware of who Mr Evans is?’
For the first time, Sir Clive shifted slightly on his seat. ‘I am. He is a cabin steward.’
‘One that works for the Fowlers,’ Guy prompted.
‘Yes,’ agreed Sir Clive.
‘You witnessed the fight between Evans and Mr Fowler in the bar?’
‘Yes, I did. I don’t see how that leads to him being in my room, or why I should have been aware of his presence.’
Guy knew when a suspect wasn’t going to budge. He decided he would have to press the point later. ‘Fine. Where were you between eleven p.m. and one o’clock in the morning last night?’
‘I was here. I came back after dinner.’
‘Were you with anyone in here?’
‘No, of course not.’ Sir Clive sat back in the chair and pulled out a slim gold cigarette case, turning it over in his hand but not opening it.
‘No maid or other member or staff can vouch for you being here?’
‘No. I suppose it doesn’t look good for me, but I can’t rustle up an alibi for you. I simply don’t have one.’
‘What did you do when you got here?’
Sir Clive sprang open the case and took out a cigarette, tapping it on the closed lid. ‘I think I had another drink and sat in my chair, thinking things over. Not for long, then I went to bed. I read a few pages of my book, then went to sleep.’ He pulled out his lighter and, after the click, took a drag. His demeanour, thought Guy, was not that of a guilty man, but his confidence was somewhat cocksure. Guy didn’t like it, but he couldn’t put his finger on why exactly.
‘What was the first you knew of what had taken place last night?’
Before Sir Clive could answer there was a knock at the door. Guy signalled to Logan that he should answer it. Into the quiet of the room there came the confused tones of a man talking in a German accent, then apologising and finally leaving. Sir Clive stubbed out his cigarette and Guy thought he noticed a very slight tremor as he did so.
Logan came back in. ‘That was Herr von Bohlen. He apologises for the disturbance; he will find you later.’
It took a second for Guy to remember why he recognised the name.
‘How extraordinary,’ said Sir Clive. ‘I hardly know the man.’
Guy wondered why he protested so strongly. It was something else he would have to hope would become clear before the ship docked in Rome. Time was beginning to run out.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
The deck, this particular afternoon, was as busy as Green Park on a midsummer’s day. All the passengers wanted to take advantage of both the clear sunshine to top up their tans, as well as the constant fervour of whispered rumours and conjecture that were running between them like mice on hot wires.
‘The captain might as well have announced Joseph Fowler’s death on the tannoy system,’ said Unity as they walked along the port side of the ship, watching the news spread behind cupped hands from deckchair to sunbed.
Louisa was walking a step or two behind Unity and Wolfgang, who must have acquitted himself over luncheon, though not enough to be left alone with Lady Redesdale’s daughter. For once, Louisa approved of the strict rules that meant Unity was supervised, even if she would rather have been with Guy. At least there was the fresh air to enjoy, something that had been sorely lacking since yesterday evening. She’d even managed to grab a bite to eat after a quick trip to the third-class restaurant, before collecting Unity.
Wolfgang laughed at Unity’s quip. ‘Ja, it’s true. The people are more excited by crime than they are afraid. The people enjoy fear, I think.’ He tipped his head down lower towards Unity. ‘Do you like to be frightened?’
Unity giggled. ‘I like fairground rides, if that’s what you mean. That terrific whoosh when you hardly know which end is up. But I suppose no one is too worried here because it’s pretty obvious his wife did it. There’s no axe murderer on the rampage.’
‘No, just a mallet murderer.’ Wolfgang laughed again.
Louisa froze. How did Wolfgang know a mallet had been used to attack Joseph? So far as she knew, it was still in the drinks cupboard of B-17, unless Guy had collected it and taken it elsewhere for safekeeping. Even then, how had news of it leaked out?
Unity gave Wolfgang a mildly aghast look at his remark. ‘Please tell me, what is Herr Hitler really like? You’ve met him, haven’t you? I wanted so much to ask you about him over luncheon, but I’m sorry to say my mother is not yet quite able to understand his brilliance. I’m sure she will, only not yet.’
‘You do not have to explain to me. I know the difficulties your countrymen have, though it is very easy for me. Herr Hitler is a leader of the true sort. He understands what the people need and he delivers it to them. Germany has been suffering for too long from a lack of dignity and pride. That is all we seek to restore.’
‘But Herr Hitler himself – tell me, is he shy? I somehow feel he probably is.’ Unity’s voice had taken on a higher pitch in her alarming eagerness.
‘Yes, he is a modest man in society. As a leader of men, he is brave, as he must be. He has only simple tastes; he likes women to show their natural beauty. He eats simple food and he has faith in Germany to become great again for its people. We have to rid the country of those who do not have the same faith.’
‘Jews, you mean?’
Wolfgang nodded. Louisa had to bite her tongue to restrain herself from getting involved in this conversation. Unity had kept her membership of the BUF a secret from her parents and so rarely gave voice to the ugly side of her beliefs. It was hard for Louisa to hear them now.
‘My father has been appointed chairman of the Reich Federation of German Industry by Herr Hitler.’
‘That sounds frightfully prestigious.’
‘It is,’ said Wolfgang, nodding slowly. ‘He has been tasked with removing Jews from the organisation. It is not so difficult to do this, most are in agreement. Besides, it does not matter whether anyone agrees or not. As chairman he is the decision-maker. Herr Hitler is most generous to my father and his family, but we are loyal to him. We will be rewarded.’
‘It is so unfortunate that no one can do the same in England.’ Unity spoke seriously now, removing herself from her flirtatious, girlish persona that she had switched on for Wolfgang before. ‘Everything has to be decided by the people, and as we all know, “the people” do not know how to make the best decisions. Of course, when our own leader, Sir Oswald, is in power, all this will change.’
‘You think he will be?’
‘Oh, yes, I really do. Especially once he is married to Diana. She believes in the cause almost more than he does. They will be unstoppable together. She’s so beautiful and clever, and very popular, I don’t think anyone could resist.’
‘Married to Mrs Guinn
ess, you say?’ Wolfgang gave his most charming smile. ‘Oh dear. Perhaps I should not have mentioned his current excursion with this Baba.’
Unity blanched. ‘I wasn’t supposed to tell you that. It’s a secret, I mean. Diana’s getting a divorce and then she will be with the Leader.’ She put her hand over her mouth and widened her eyes, a cartoonish face of concern. ‘Don’t say anything, will you?’
Louisa felt a lurch in her stomach. The stew she had gobbled down might have been a touch rancid. She hiccuped and Wolfgang turned his head slightly, catching her eye. Was she imagining it or did he have a mischievous look about him?
He leaned down towards Unity. ‘I will not tell a soul. In fact, there is something I shouldn’t tell you, but we can exchange secrets, do you not agree?’
‘Yes, I very much agree. What is it?’ Unity picked up her walking pace a little, perhaps to put more distance between them and Louisa.
‘We – that is, my family – we tell people that our fortune is in steel. And that is no lie. We have made a great deal of money. But the real reason our future lies with Herr Hitler is because he has entrusted us with his rearmament programme. It is not public knowledge as yet, we are…’ He motioned buttoning his lip.
Unity’s eyes widened. ‘For war?’ she mouthed.
‘No, certainly not.’ Wolfgang was firm. ‘It is for Germany’s dignity only. To let the world know that we will not be told by anyone else what we can and cannot do. Herr Hitler wants only peace. But he sees not why we should lie down and be walked upon like a worn-out carpet. The Treaty of Versailles was designed to humiliate and break us. But we deserve respect and to be on equal feet with the rest of the world. Don’t you agree?’
‘Yes,’ said Unity. ‘Yes, I do.’
Louisa was afraid now. What she had heard seemed far more dangerous than anything Iain surely supposed she would discover. Damn her work for Lady Redesdale. She needed to find Third Officer Wellesley and she needed to do it fast. But she also needed to tell Guy that Wolfgang knew about the mallet. Who should she talk to first?
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
‘Miss Unity.’
Louisa ran up to her and Wolfgang and tapped her on the shoulder.
Unity did not look pleased. ‘What?’
‘I’m terribly sorry, but it’s three o’clock and I need to return you to Lady Redesdale.’ Louisa almost crossed her fingers. She hoped Unity wouldn’t see through the fib.
‘But I don’t want to,’ said Unity.
Wolfgang, however, did not attempt to dissuade Louisa. ‘It has been a great pleasure, Fräulein Mitford,’ he began, stepping back.
‘I do wish you’d call me Unity.’
To this Wolfgang merely smiled, and Unity saw her time was up. ‘Fine,’ she said. ‘But I don’t recall my mother saying three o’clock.’
Louisa decided to minimise the extent of her lie by leading the way towards the staircase inside. Wolfgang had already discreetly gone down ahead of them. The two young women walked silently to deck B, Louisa able to do no more than pray that Lady Redesdale had retired to her cabin for an afternoon nap. She might be surprised to see her daughter return, but she wouldn’t be displeased. It had only been down to the relentless work of Unity and charm of Wolfgang that they had gained Lady Redesdale’s reluctant permission for a stroll around the deck after luncheon.
When they arrived, Louisa knocked on the door and then held it open for Unity.
‘Aren’t you coming in?’
‘Sorry, Miss Unity. There’s something I need to do. I’ll be back shortly.’
Unity pulled a face, but it was clear she was more irritated by having her time with Wolfgang cut short to bother too much with Louisa’s plans.
Hurrying off along the passage, Louisa wasn’t sure where she was rushing to, exactly. She knew there must exist a captain’s office of some kind where she could enquire after Wellesley. Her concern was that she needed to be discreet. The captain would wonder what a third-class passenger – a lady’s maid – wanted with one of his senior crew. Nor could she pass it off as a request from Lady Redesdale or either of her daughters, as the captain would be bound to mention it to one of them, in the way that people always did when you most needed them not to. Buried in her indecision, she rounded a corner and ran straight into her own husband.
‘Guy,’ said Louisa, relief and concern colliding within her. He looked worn out, in need of a shave, grey shadows beneath his eyes, and his glasses could have done with a polish.
‘Are you alone?’
‘Yes, for once. I’ve shaken the Mitfords off,’ said Louisa, holding his tie in her hand, pulling herself closer to him, needing the safety of his body heat.
He grinned. ‘I came here to be with you, and it feels as if I’ve hardly seen you. Can you come with me now?’
She almost hesitated, before reminding herself that her priorities were clear: Guy first, Iain – and any of his cohorts – second. It had taken her rather too long to realise that.
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I can. Where are you going?’
‘I want to check on Jim Evans; he’s being held in the cell downstairs.’
‘Cell? What, like a prison, with bars on the window?’
‘Not quite, it’s a small cabin with a guard standing outside. I don’t think they need bars – what will they do, jump into the sea?’ Guy checked over her shoulder and, seeing no one, bent to give her a kiss. ‘Come on, I’ll tell you what’s happened as we walk.’
Louisa took him to the crew stairway and on the way he told her that he had interviewed Sir Clive and knew something was up, but he couldn’t pin anything on him.
‘He doesn’t have an alibi,’ said Guy, ‘nor does he seem to be too worried about that. I can’t tell if that’s him throwing me off the scent, or if it’s simpler than that.’
‘That’s he’s telling the truth?’
Guy shrugged. ‘Hard to remember sometimes in my line of work, but occasionally people are not trying to pull the wool over my eyes.’
‘What do you think happened last night?’ Louisa had too many things chasing their own tails in her mind: Ella in love with Jim, and her husband knowing about it; Jim and Blythe with their plans for a hotel by the sea; Joseph offering his wife to Sir Clive in lieu of the debt; and Wolfgang, somewhere in the muddle, but nothing to do with any of the rest of it except for Iain.
‘I can’t say for certain yet, but my guess is that when Mr Fowler returned to his cabin, he caught Jim and his wife. I think a row must have erupted and somewhere in that, Mr Fowler was struck by the mallet, either by Jim or Mrs Fowler. Jim then fled the scene, leaving her to clear up.’
‘You think Mrs Fowler and Jim killed him together?’
‘Yes, but I couldn’t say if it was plotted. Possibly. The strange thing is that they are admitting guilt, yet they are both vague as to how they did it. Jim said at first that he heard an argument between Mr and Mrs Fowler, and when he came into the room, having been hiding on the balcony, he saw Mr Fowler had been struck on the head. Now he is saying that he is guilty, not Mrs Fowler, but he hasn’t specified how, except to say he used the mallet. It could be a clever ruse to put me off the fact that it was a cold-blooded plan to kill him, or—’
‘The truth.’
They had almost reached deck E and Guy slowed down. ‘Given that he has confessed, I’ve arrested him. There’s no doubt in my mind that he is very strongly connected to this murder. He’s showing every sign of guilt. Only I can’t pin down who struck the fatal blow.’
The mallet.
‘Have you told anyone about the mallet?’ asked Louisa.
‘I’ve discussed it with the doctor, asked him if he knew whether the injuries sustained were compatible with the mallet, that’s all. He seemed to think it was, but he’s only a ship’s doctor, not a forensic pathologist, more’s the pity.’
‘Anyone else?’
Guy shook his head, puzzled. ‘No, why?’
‘Because I was just walking with Unity
and Herr von Bohlen, and he said—’
‘Hang on,’ interrupted Guy. They had come into the final passage now, and Louisa saw a man in a white uniform standing outside a cabin door. This time he was guarding a prisoner, not an empty space.
‘Wellesley,’ Guy called. ‘Thank you. Has there been any trouble?’
Wellesley. It had to be the same one. Coincidence or deliberate? She was completely thrown by this and forgot that she needed to tell Guy about Wolfgang and the mallet.
She regarded the officer. There was nothing distinctive or striking about him, but that was probably desirable when it came to secret agents. The last thing you needed was them being easily identifiable. He was only a few years older than Guy, she guessed; hard to tell with the uniform and the erect bearing as he stood by the door.
‘No trouble, sir,’ said Wellesley. ‘Sounded as if he was crying at one point. I wouldn’t say he’s in too good shape.’
‘Right, well, thank you. I’d better go in and see him.’ Guy turned to Louisa. ‘Sorry, darling. We’ll have to find each other again. We can always leave each other a message at the purser’s office?’
‘Yes,’ said Louisa. ‘We’ll do that.’ She hoped she looked innocent, that he didn’t guess she was at that very moment hiding something from him. She wanted Guy to go so she could get on with it, get it over with, but he was delaying, hesitating at the door.
‘Go,’ she said at last. ‘You need to know what happened.’
‘Yes, you’re right.’ He gave her hand a squeeze and went through the door.
When the door had shut, Louisa faced Wellesley.
‘The nightingale sang in Sloane Square,’ she said.
The Mitford Trial Page 20