‘And you don’t think that this was the work of one of the careless variety?’
The Chief Officer moved away from the window.
‘It’s rather too early to be thinking anything—officially. But between ourselves, no, I don’t think it was the work of anybody either careless or lacking in intelligence. None of the people staying here seem to me to be the type likely to give themselves away through stupidity.’
Tremaine’s eyebrows went up. He eyed the big man guardedly.
‘It doesn’t follow that whoever killed Latinam must have been staying at his hotel.’
‘No,’ the Chief Officer agreed. ‘No, it doesn’t follow. That’s why I’m going after Gaston Le Mazon. I’m not leaving any stone unturned. But in this kind of affair the best place to look for suspects is among the people who made up the victim’s immediate circle. I’m no believer in the mysterious individual who turns up out of the blue, does the fatal deed, and then vanishes again.’
‘You’re satisfied about the staff?’
‘I’m not dissatisfied—yet. They’re all locals with backgrounds we can check. The cook, a chambermaid, a waitress, and an odd-job man Latinam employed to look after the bar, act as porter, and make himself generally useful. There’s no suggestion that any of them had a grudge against him.’
‘It’s true,’ Tremaine said, ‘that there’s usually some evidence of what was coming to be found in the victim’s relationships with the people around him.’
‘That’s why I asked you to give me your account of things. And admirably you did it. What about Ivan Holt, for instance?’
Tremaine sighed.
‘I was afraid it was coming. There’s certainly been something odd about Holt’s attitude lately. But I wouldn’t say that it adds up to a reason for murder.’
‘Ruth Latinam’s a very attractive woman.’ Colinet’s voice was deceptively soft. ‘She’s also a very frightened one. Women do get frightened for themselves, but more often they get frightened for someone else. Do you think she is in love with Holt?’
‘Yes, I do. I also think it shows that Holt couldn’t have had anything to do with the murder. He wouldn’t have been tactless enough to kill the brother of the woman he wanted to marry.’
‘It doesn’t sound the best approach to matrimony,’ the Chief Officer agreed dryly. ‘But I don’t think we can altogether ignore enquiries in that direction. Then there’s Mr. Bendall. According to what you’ve just told me he’s been carrying on some kind of under-cover feud with Latinam. His talk sounded normal enough but gave you the impression that there was more to it. I remember in particular something being said about rich men not knowing where to leave their money.’
Tremaine kept his eyes on the shrewd, grey ones regarding him from the Chief Officer’s impassive face. Colinet didn’t miss anything.
‘That was the note?’ he said. ‘The note you gave to Inspector Marchant just now?’
‘I think,’ Colinet said, evading a direct admission, ‘that the sooner we find out where Latinam acquired the money he was living on the quicker we’ll find out who killed him.’
There was a tap on the door. The Chief Officer looked up enquiringly as it opened and a constable came in.
‘It’s Mrs. Burres, sir. She’s asking to see you. I thought it was all right to let you know, sir, since the inspector’s been in.’
‘Yes, that’s all right, Constable. Bring her along, will you.’
‘Perhaps I’d better go,’ Tremaine said.
‘I’d like you to stay,’ Colinet told him. ‘She knows you and if she really wants to see me all that badly the fact that you’re here won’t make any difference to what she intends to say. Besides, I dare say she knows all about your connection with crime and she’s probably expecting to find you here anyway.’
After placing a chair for his expected visitor the big man seated himself at the desk again. Tremaine removed his own chair to a corner where he thought he would be less conspicuous.
Mrs. Burres, broad and determined, her drab brown costume shapeless upon her bulky form, swept into the room past the constable who had escorted her. She gave Tremaine no more than a glance; evidently Colinet had been right in his judgment.
‘Sit down, Mrs. Burres,’ the Chief Officer said. ‘You have fresh information you wish to give me?’
‘I want to see justice done.’
‘Very creditable.’ Colinet nodded gravely. ‘You may rest assured, madam, that we share your desire.’
Mrs. Burres settled herself in her chair.
‘It’s easy for the wrong people to be accused. That’s why I’ve come to see you—before any mistakes are made.’
There was a glint of amusement in Colinet’s grey eyes.
‘I’m sure we shall appreciate anything you can do to prevent us making fools of ourselves,’ he said gravely.
‘I’m not blind,’ she said, apparently unaware of his faint irony, ‘although a lot of people take me for a stupid old woman. If you’re thinking that Mr. Holt had anything to do with what’s happened just because he’s in love with Ruth Latinam you’re mistaken. Her brother was asking for all that came to him. He was playing with fire and he got himself burnt.’
The amusement had gone from Colinet’s eyes now. He leaned forward, his tone quiet but incisive.
‘What do you mean by playing with fire?’
‘Who was it he went out to see at night?’ she countered. ‘What was he doing creeping out of the hotel when he thought nobody was watching him?’
‘Do you mean last night? The night he was killed?’
‘Not only then. There were other times as well.’
‘What are you trying to tell me, Mrs. Burres?’
‘That it wasn’t anyone here who killed him,’ she said tensely. ‘Whoever did it had something to do with what he’s been doing outside. He was a bad man—wicked right through the soul of him!’
Her voice wavered. Surprisingly her face crumpled, as though she was going to cry. It was so unexpected in a woman of her build that it clearly took Colinet aback. He waited a moment or two for her to recover.
‘That’s a drastic accusation, Mrs. Burres,’ he observed evenly. ‘I imagine you must have very strong reasons for making it.’
‘He liked to torture people,’ she went on, her voice steady again although her face still showed traces of her emotion. ‘He enjoyed putting them in a position he knew was painful to them and then deliberately saying things to make them suffer. He even did it with his own sister!’
Colinet’s heavy lids drooped over his eyes, veiling the quick, probing intelligence.
‘Can you be more explicit, Mrs. Burres?’
For reply she twisted suddenly in her chair to face into the corner of the room.
‘Ask Mr. Tremaine there,’ she said, revealing that she had all along been aware what his presence meant. ‘He’ll tell you.’
Colinet’s lids were raised, unmasking the enquiry that lay behind them.
‘I’m afraid you’re making a mistake, Mrs. Burres,’ Tremaine said quietly. ‘I can hardly tell the Chief Officer anything because I really don’t know what you mean. I haven’t had a great deal to do with Miss Latinam.’
Her lip curled.
‘I would have thought you’d have seen enough. You can’t be as good at observing things as I imagined.’
The Chief Officer coughed deprecatingly behind a large hand. His gaze held that of his visitor across the table.
‘Is there anything more, Mrs. Burres?’
‘No, that’s all,’ she said, and her lips came together. ‘I wanted to be sure you knew about Latinam.’
She was on her way to the door when Tremaine’s casual question brought her to a sudden halt.
‘Shall we be seeing anything of the major?’
She turned round slowly; she gave the impression that she wanted to gain time to think.
‘The major? Major Ayres? I imagine so. I suppose we shall all be here until the police give u
s permission to leave.’
‘I wasn’t meaning that. I was wondering whether he might have anything to say to the Chief Officer.’
‘How should I know that?’ she retorted sharply. ‘I can’t tell you what the major is likely to do.’ Her glance flickered to Colinet and then came back to Tremaine. ‘The major’s a fine man,’ she said. ‘A good man. He didn’t have anything to do with this.’
‘I assure you I wasn’t suggesting anything to the contrary,’ Tremaine said levelly.
She stood looking at him for a moment or two, uncertain what was in his mind and yet reluctant to risk a question. And then she turned and went out. As the door closed upon her broad, powerful figure Colinet heaved himself upright again; all his movements seemed to call for a large expenditure of effort.
‘What was all that about?’
‘My part in the proceedings?’ Tremaine said. ‘Or hers?’
‘Both. I felt that I was on the outside looking in. It’s a bad place for a policeman to be when he’s investigating a murder.’
‘There’s something between Mrs. Burres and the major. Once or twice lately they’ve looked like conspirators.’
‘And Mrs. Burres certainly didn’t like Latinam,’ Colinet observed. ‘I wonder where we go from there? She’s powerfully built for a woman. Do you think she could carry a man up a ladder?’
‘And push him into a tank?’ Tremaine said. ‘After she’d first knocked him on the head? It would have been an awkward business, especially in the dark.’
‘But with the major to help it might have been managed.’ The Chief Officer gave him a quizzical glance. ‘I’ve been thinking aloud rather a lot. I don’t want you to imagine that I make a habit of it. Only in this case I thought it might help.’
Tremaine appreciated what was in the big man’s mind. He was showing the extent of his confidence and was trying to induce a reciprocal frankness. It showed that Jonathan Boyce must have been very friendly indeed over the telephone from Scotland Yard.
‘I won’t let you down,’ he said. ‘Sometimes it’s useful to make a shot in the dark. It clears things up, helps you to see the right way out of the wood.’
Colinet clasped his hands behind his back and stared up at the ceiling, standing with feet planted solidly apart, a great, leaning mountain of a man.
‘As you said,’ he remarked, ‘getting up to that tank must have been awkward. Even with two people concerned. Only room on the ladder for one at a time. Those two supporting struts running across the inside of the tank meant that the body had to be forced underneath them whilst whoever did it was also busy balancing on the top of the ladder.’
‘Yes,’ Tremaine agreed. ‘Yes, they did.’
‘Damned inconvenient, I’d imagine. When the job was done, of course, the struts came in useful; kept the body down under the water. If Latinam had still been alive when he was pushed in they’d have stopped him coming to the top and would have made sure that he drowned without too much time being wasted. And without the murderer needing to hang about on top of the ladder to make sure his victim was dead. Dangerous to have spent too long up there. People don’t usually go around the district looking at water tanks after dark, but it was always possible that somebody might have passed by and noticed what was going on, even at that late hour.’
A memory came into Tremaine’s mind of Hedley Latinam’s dead face, all the joviality distorted out of it. He shivered.
‘You make it sound—gruesome. Up there on top of the ladder in the darkness, with a dead man on your hands. Or at least a man you intended to make sure was dead very soon. Your heart pounding with fear and every movement in the shadows making you wonder whether you were being watched!’
‘Murder’s a gruesome business. But once you’ve made up your mind to it,’ Colinet said practically, ‘you’ve got to go through with it or you’re done for. If it hadn’t been for you that tank might have been a good idea.’
‘Why me?’ Tremaine said defensively.
‘It was your excursion up the ladder that produced the body! Any notion of how often your friend Exenley goes up aloft?’
‘No, I don’t think he’s actually mentioned it although I’ve seen him go up to the tank once or twice.’
‘He says that if the pump’s working normally it’s usually days and may even be a week or more between inspections. And he checked it only a couple of days ago because it hadn’t been satisfactory. He made sure it was in order and unless it had started to give trouble again he wouldn’t have examined the tank for a while. The body might have stayed there with no one any the wiser until the murderer was ready to get rid of it permanently at his leisure.’
‘Then the murder wasn’t premeditated?’
‘That’s the way it looks,’ Colinet said. ‘Let’s see where we are.’ He enumerated the points on his thick fingers. ‘Latinam left his hotel fairly late at night. According to Mrs. Burres he did it furtively, as though he didn’t want to be seen, although he doesn’t seem to have been very successful in preventing her from noticing him. He went to the kiosk on the sand dunes where he’d arranged to meet someone. Your story confirms that.’
‘He thought I was the person he was waiting for. He wasn’t very pleased when he found he’d made a mistake.’
‘So whatever the meeting was about it was something he didn’t want to make public. It looks as though when the meeting did take place there was an argument and Latinam had the worst of it. The murderer found himself out in the open with a body on his hands. Not a happy state of affairs, even though it was dark. So what did he do? He looked for somewhere to hide the corpse until he could do something about getting rid of it without bringing suspicion on himself.’
‘Hence the tank?’
‘Hence the tank,’ the Chief Officer agreed. ‘Your friend Exenley’s bungalow is some distance from the kiosk by the road, but it’s possible to take a short cut to his greenhouses across a couple of hundred yards of rough ground between the bungalows separating his place from the beach. The murderer dragged the body across this ground, possibly with some idea of hiding it among the brambles and weeds, and then he saw the tank and thought of a better plan.’
‘You sound definite about it,’ Tremaine said, and the big man nodded.
‘There was still a distinct track this morning showing where something heavy had been dragged from the road towards the back of the greenhouses. And we found traces of grass and weeds in the tank and still clinging to Latinam’s clothes. The soil wedged between his rubber heels and his shoes was the same as that where the track was made.’
‘I see. Latinam might have been reported as missing, but there would have been no proof that he was dead. And nobody would have thought of looking for him in a water tank.’
‘Which makes it all the more satisfactory from our point of view that you’ve been taking such an interest in growing tomatoes. Instead of the murderer going quietly about his preparations, he—or she—must now be in a state of panic, wondering just how much we’ve found out. And when people get in a panic they’re liable to make mistakes.’
Colinet glanced at his wrist-watch. He had an air of satisfaction.
‘I’m due back at St. Julian Harbour in half an hour for a routine conference with the Governor. Inspector Marchant or one of his men will be here. I’ll leave instructions that you’re to be given any assistance you may ask for. Unless the Governor has anything important in mind I’ll probably be out again myself later on.’
‘It’s very good of you,’ Tremaine murmured. ‘I know I haven’t any official standing.’
‘I’m casting my bread on the waters,’ the big man said. ‘I see no virtue in ignoring the fact that you’re here and that you’ve had what might be called a ring-side seat.’ His tone became graver and the humorous light in his grey eyes was replaced by a more sober expression. ‘I realize that it isn’t going to be any joyride. You’ve been seeing a good deal of the people here. I dare say you’ve got to like at least some of them. I
nvestigations of this kind are a thankless business. But they have to be carried out.’
‘Yes, I understand,’ Tremaine said quietly.
He waited for Colinet to say what was in his mind.
‘I’d like to know,’ the Chief Officer went on, ‘what’s been worrying Mr. and Mrs. Belmore. There’s no need for me to become all official and send Marchant out to talk to them. But I’ve got to find out.’
‘Of course. Yes, I’ll ask them.’
‘Good man.’
Colinet smiled. It was a friendly, understanding smile, and instinctively Tremaine returned it.
He liked the Chief Officer. It was clear that he was a shrewd man who would not be easily fooled; the attitude of his subordinates towards him had shown that he demanded a ruthless efficiency. But he possessed a sense of humour and he was ready to unbend.
It was a pity that the background to their relationship should be a murder investigation in which people he had come to know and like were involved.
If Colinet was right and the murderer was to be found among Hedley Latinam’s immediate circle, the days to come were going to be very difficult. Very difficult indeed.
13
THE SUSPECTS FORM PAIRS
THERE WERE KNOTS of sightseers in the neighbourhood of the hotel. Curious eyes watched Tremaine as he came down the path from the headland. He supposed he would have to get used to it; the affair would be a nine days’ wonder and anybody who was believed to have the remotest connection with the murder would be an object of interest.
He reached the bungalow to find Janet and Mark eager for news.
‘Any arrest yet?’ Mark asked.
‘Not yet. So far it’s just been routine procedure—photographs, interviewing of witnesses and so on.’
‘Are you in?’ Janet said.
He did not pretend that he did not know what she meant.
‘Yes, I’m in,’ he said, and went straight to the point. ‘The Chief Officer asked me if I’d begin with you.’
‘With us?’ Janet looked startled. ‘Surely he doesn’t think we had anything to do with it?’
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