Tremaine nodded gravely, trying to catch his mood.
‘Sometimes that’s the way of it. But in the long run it pays to speak out openly.’
‘It doesn’t happen to be my right to speak,’ Bendall said. ‘I’m afraid that settles it.’
He turned and began to walk on up towards the hotel. Tremaine let him go. It wouldn’t be any good to go on trying to talk him out of it. At least, not yet.
15
A CHANGE IN THE EVIDENCE
ALTHOUGH IT WAS a warm and sunny afternoon the lounge of the Rohane hotel was full. Nobody had been anxious to brave the stares and whispers of the clusters of sightseers still being drawn to the district by the magnet of murder, and the Chief Officer had in any case made it plain that he would prefer them to stay within reach so that they would be easily available for further questioning if necessary.
Glancing around Tremaine was dismayed by the change that had come over their relationships in so short a time. Instead of the general conversation which would have existed two days earlier there was a taut gloom broken only by an occasional brief and hushed remark.
Ivan Holt saw him come in and tossed the periodical he had been reading into an empty chair.
‘Seems to me there’s a lot of unnecessary fuss being made. Anybody would think we were all under suspicion.’
It was meant to be a challenge. Tremaine accepted it.
‘I’m afraid,’ he said, ‘that that’s just what we are.’
He studied the reaction that went around the room, from Nicola Paston’s quickly stifled gasp to the tightening of Geoffrey Bendall’s already compressed lips.
Major Ayres laid aside the newspaper he had been pretending to read. He cleared his throat with a great deal of noise.
‘Hrrm. You’re not serious? Joking, eh, what?’
‘Dear me, no, Major,’ Tremaine returned. ‘A man’s been murdered. We’re the people who made up his immediate circle and are therefore most likely to know something about his death.’
Major Ayres flashed a quick glance at Mrs. Burres, who was knitting determinedly in one corner; she remained steadfastly watching her needles.
‘See what you mean, of course. Hrrm. Difficult situation.’
‘It seems to me,’ Ivan Holt said deliberately, ‘to be a typical obtuse piece of official reasoning. Latinam’s murderer might have come from anywhere.’
Ruth Latinam looked across at him, her dark eyes fixed on him in appeal.
‘Must we go into all that again, Ivan?’
Her expression discomfited him; that much was evident from his heightened colour. But he persisted doggedly.
‘You’re not going to agree that it was one of us, Ruth?’
‘Of course not,’ she told him sharply. ‘That’s absurd, Ivan. But you can’t blame the police for seeing it that way.’
Her voice trembled. She looked as though she was going to cry. Tremaine thought that it was up to him.
‘You’re looking a bit under the weather, Miss Latinam,’ he remarked. ‘Why not come out into the sunshine for a few moments?’
She came to her feet automatically; it was clear that she was responding because it was expected of her, not from any personal desire.
Walking with her towards the terrace Tremaine was uncomfortably aware that every other eye in the room was turned upon them. He had the confidence of the police. He knew what they had discovered; he knew what else they wished to know.
It was easy enough to imagine the questions that would be in the minds of people around whom hung the suspicion of murder. What was he going to ask her? What pregnant questions did he propose to put?
Ruth Latinam accompanied him mechanically, without a backward glance. They went down the steps of the terrace and out across the cliffs.
‘What is it you wish to know?’ she said.
She was facing him now, her dark eyes probing. The breeze drifted a strand of hair across her forehead. She pushed it back into place with a gesture that seemed to give her an air of challenge.
Tremaine smiled.
‘I think you misunderstand,’ he said, but she gave him a quick denial.
‘No,’ she told him, ‘I don’t think I do. But please don’t feel that I’m annoyed about it. I realize that questions have to be asked and I can quite see why the police should think that you might be better able to find out the things that need to be known than someone official who’s never met us before.’
‘You make me sound rather an unpleasant individual.’
‘Do I? I’m sorry. I don’t mean to. It’s just that I seem to be past caring any more.’
‘I’m quite sure that everyone understands how you feel. It’s been a dreadful shock for you. It happened so suddenly, without warning. There’s been so little time for you to adjust yourself to a new life.’
‘A new life!’ she echoed quietly. She turned away from him, staring out over the water. The breeze, blowing her dress about her, emphasized her slender form as it had done that day on the cliffs near Mortelet lighthouse. Despite the sunshine she was dark with tragedy. ‘A new life!’ she repeated. ‘I wonder? I seem to be moving in a dream. I can’t bring myself to believe that Hedley’s dead.’
‘It’s a mercy we’re granted in a time of suffering. Being numbed we don’t feel the full extent of the shock, and when at last we do we’ve had time to prepare ourselves.’
‘I’m not going to pretend,’ she said steadily. ‘I don’t feel any grief because Hedley’s dead. Not real grief. I think it’s more because of the way he died than because it actually happened.’
‘In that case,’ Tremaine said, ‘perhaps it will be easier for you to discuss it without pain. Can you think of anyone who might have wished harm to your brother?’
She had evidently been expecting the question, for her answer came without hesitation.
‘No,’ she said. ‘I can think of no one.’
‘No—business associate?’
‘He had more than enough money to live on. This hotel was his business, and I think you know that it was more a hobby with him than a business in the true sense. I hardly imagine that anyone could have been afraid he was setting up too much in competition.’
‘I noticed that he liked to have people around him, although in so short a time I didn’t get to know him really well.’ He ignored the bitterness that had been in her voice. He was distressed at the hard lines that had settled around her mouth. ‘What about the guests at the hotel? Did you notice any signs of discord between your brother and anyone staying here?’
‘I imagine you already know the answer to that,’ she returned. ‘After all, you’ve seen a good deal of us.’
‘Yes, that’s true,’ he admitted. ‘But the onlooker doesn’t always see most of the game. Sometimes the players hide their real feelings just because there is an onlooker present.’
He studied her thoughtfully and decided that there was little to be gained by any more fencing.
‘I was thinking chiefly of Mr. Holt,’ he observed, and was rewarded by her sudden hiss of indrawn breath.
‘Why should you think of Ivan?’
‘Because he’s in love with you,’ he told her calmly. ‘And because I’m not altogether certain about your brother’s attitude.’
‘Aren’t you being rather personal?’
She was breathing quickly and her body had become taut with what might have been either anger or dread.
‘Yes, I’m afraid I am. It isn’t very pleasant for either of us, but I’m sure you can see that if the questions were to be left to the police it might prove to be even more unpleasant—for you.’
‘You’re talking in riddles,’ she said, in a low voice.
‘But riddles I think you understand. Believe me I want to help you. Why not tell me all you can?’
For an instant she looked very young and very helpless, and his sentimental soul went out to her.
‘I can’t,’ she whispered. ‘I—daren’t.’
She realiz
ed that she had been on the point of betrayal, and her lips came together. She made an effort to speak formally.
‘I think I’d like to go in again. It was very good of you to come out with me but I feel better now.’
It was palpably untrue but Tremaine was not aware of any way in which he could have challenged her without being discourteous.
They went back into the lounge. As they stepped through the open windows he came face to face with Mrs. Burres. She had dropped her knitting and was openly staring at them. He knew that she would have given a great deal to have known the subject of their conversation.
The atmosphere was too strained for comfort; after a moment or two Tremaine made his way to the office where he knew he would find Colinet. Inspector Marchant was there; he had obviously been in conference with his chief.
‘How are they taking it?’ Colinet asked, with a lift of his eyebrows. ‘Any noticeable reactions?’
‘They aren’t talking much,’ Tremaine said. ‘Everybody seems to be waiting for someone else to make a move. I’ve just been having a word with Ruth Latinam,’ he added. ‘She wouldn’t open out but she’s hiding something.’
‘I wouldn’t be surprised,’ the Chief Officer returned, and the dry note in his voice made Tremaine give him an intent scrutiny.
‘There’ve been—developments?’
‘Marchant’s been digging,’ Colinet said. ‘It’s surprising how much you can turn up when you really get started. Better let him tell you himself.’
Tremaine glanced at the inspector. Marchant nodded.
‘I’ve been going through the staff. Just to make sure.’
‘Apparently,’ Colinet said, ‘there’s been some high life below stairs.’
‘The barman-porter,’ Marchant explained, ‘and the chambermaid. Crevicher—that’s his name—seems to have been turning the young lady’s head.’
‘The barman? But he’s quite elderly, isn’t he? I’m not sure of the chambermaid but if she’s the girl I’ve noticed about once or twice when I’ve been here she isn’t much more than a child.’
‘Quite so. This is her first job. Her parents live in the village. They’ve always kept an eye on her and I suppose she’s been growing up a little faster just lately. Anyway, Crevicher’s been making the most of his chances.’
‘A distressing business, certainly,’ Tremaine said. ‘Did Latinam know what was going on?’
‘If he did he wasn’t doing anything about it. But on the night he was killed Crevicher and the girl went out for a little—er—dalliance.’
‘You mean, they saw something?’
‘They saw someone,’ Colinet intervened. ‘Ruth Latinam.’
‘Oh.’ Tremaine’s hand went up to his pince-nez. ‘So she wasn’t indoors, after all.’
‘Not if the girl’s speaking the truth. And Marchant believes that she is.’
‘She’s telling the truth all right,’ the inspector said. ‘It was plain when I started to question her that she wanted to hide something and it didn’t take long to find out what it was. She’s scared of the news of what she’s been up to getting back to her parents. They’re respectable folk who believe in old-fashioned remedies. That’s why she told me about Miss Latinam. She didn’t like doing it—I understand that Miss Latinam’s always treated her well—but she wanted to shift the limelight away from herself. Once she had told me, of course, it was too late to go back on it.’
‘What about Crevicher? Does he confirm her story?’
‘As far as seeing Miss Latinam is concerned.’ The Chief Officer was laboriously disentangling himself from his chair. ‘They’re waiting in one of the other rooms. I’ll have them in.’
He went over to the door and despatched a constable with the necessary instructions.
‘You say the girl comes from this part of the island?’ Tremaine said. ‘What’s her name?’
‘Geffard,’ Colinet told him. ‘Ena Geffard. It’s a well-known name hereabouts.’
‘Yes, I believe I’ve noticed it on one or two shops in the district. You don’t suppose there could be any local antagonism against Latinam and his sister? I mean on account of his being a newcomer to the island?’
Colinet shook his head.
‘Too many of our people make a living out of catering for summer visitors for that kind of insular idea to last very long! You’re trying very hard on Miss Latinam’s behalf,’ he added shrewdly. ‘But I’m afraid it won’t do. The girl saw her right enough.’
Tremaine was saved from embarrassment by the arrival of the constable with his two charges. Ena Geffard was a plump, dark girl, clearly in that difficult transition stage when new maturity of body has not yet been matched with a similar maturity of mind. She was wearing a tight-fitting black dress, obviously chosen with the purpose of emphasizing what she believed to be her seduction of figure. Under normal conditions he might have considered her pretty, but at the moment she was not at her best for her face was red and tear-stained.
Crevicher, slight, grey-haired, and more than old enough to be her father, came in diffidently just behind her. He looked uncomfortable; Tremaine guessed with satisfaction that Marchant had been exceeding his authority and passing caustic judgment on the barman’s behaviour.
‘Sit down,’ Colinet said to the girl, not unkindly. ‘Before I ask Miss Latinam to come in I want to make quite sure that you haven’t made a mistake. You’re certain that you did see her?’
The girl nodded miserably.
‘Yes, sir. I couldn’t be wrong about her.’
Colinet switched his glance to the barman. His voice became harder.
‘And you?’
‘It’s true what she says, sir. It was Miss Latinam. Both of us saw her. She didn’t see us, though, because—well—’
‘Because you took good care not to let her. Under the circumstances,’ Colinet said grimly. ‘All right. We won’t go into that. And the time?’
‘Just after eleven o’clock, sir. I was surprised to see her out so late by herself and when she’d gone by I looked at my watch.’
‘It won’t make any trouble?’ the girl broke in tremulously. ‘I don’t want to say anything against Miss Latinam, not to do her harm.’
‘Your job is just to speak the truth, my girl,’ Colinet said sternly. ‘The rest doesn’t concern you.’
He looked significantly at Marchant and the inspector nodded and went out. There was complete silence in the room during the few moments it took to bring Ruth Latinam from the lounge; Tremaine sensed that the Chief Officer was doing his best to bring the gravity of the situation home to his two witnesses.
Ruth Latinam was plainly surprised to see Crevicher and the girl but she made no comment. She took the chair Marchant set for her facing the desk.
‘You know these two people, of course, Miss Latinam?’ Colinet said, and she made a brief inclination of her head.
‘Of course.’
‘Naturally,’ the Chief Officer went on, ‘a great deal of time is taken up in an investigation of this type in checking up on what seems to be the obvious. We set one person’s statement against another’s, and then if we come across a discrepancy anywhere we have to try and sort things out.’
‘A–discrepancy?’ she said, with a slight catch of her breath.
‘That’s right. Like this one that’s just turned up,’ Colinet remarked casually. ‘In your statement you said that on the night your brother was killed you went to bed early because you had a headache, and now we’ve just been hearing that over half an hour after you were supposed to have gone to your room you were seen walking over the sand dunes.’
Ena Geffard half-rose to her feet.
‘I didn’t mean to tell them, miss,’ she broke out. ‘I didn’t want to do anything to hurt you. But I—I was frightened. I didn’t know what I was saying.’
‘Am I to understand, Ena,’ Ruth Latinam said, ‘that you saw me on the sand dunes just after eleven o’clock that night?’
‘I couldn’t help
it, miss. They kept on asking me questions. I—I was afraid of what would happen.’
For a second or two Ruth Latinam sat facing her. And then she smiled.
‘It’s all right, Ena,’ she said gently. ‘There’s nothing for you to be worried about. After all, if you saw me there’s no reason why you shouldn’t tell the Chief Officer.’
‘Then you admit,’ Colinet said, ‘that you were there?’
‘Certainly I was there,’ she told him calmly.
The big man glanced at the constable who was still standing at the door.
‘In that case we don’t need to detain these two,’ he observed with a nod towards Ena Geffard and Crevicher.
The constable escorted them from the room, Crevicher moving quickly with relief—not once had he been able to meet Ruth Latinam’s eyes—and the girl with a last tearful backward glance.
Ruth Latinam was frowning.
‘They were out together? Crevicher and Ena? I saw nothing of them. Why didn’t they speak to me?’
‘I gathered,’ Colinet said, ‘that they were embarrassed at the thought of your seeing them and kept under cover.’
Understanding came into her face then.
‘I see. But Ena’s hardly more than a child! Surely Crevicher didn’t—’
‘Apparently the girl’s come to no harm. The affair was still in its early stages. And after this little episode I don’t think either of them is likely to try and take it any further. But that’s by the way, Miss Latinam. The question I want answered now is why you should have lied to me.’
‘You sound very serious. You don’t imagine, surely, that I murdered my brother?’
‘Why didn’t you tell me that you left the hotel?’
‘I didn’t think it was important.’
Colinet raised his eyebrows. He allowed the disbelief to sound plainly in his voice.
‘Not important! I find it difficult to accept that you’re being serious, Miss Latinam. Why did you go out?’
‘I’ve already explained that I had a headache. When I got to my room I—I felt stifled. I just had to have some air before I got into bed, otherwise I knew I’d never sleep. I went for a short walk over the dunes.’
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