The Seventh Link

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The Seventh Link Page 9

by Margaret Mayhew


  NINE

  The rags were Don Wilson. He was floating face down and, though he was quite a small man, it was a tricky job for the Colonel to haul his waterlogged body out on to the bank. All attempts to revive him were hopeless; he had clearly been dead for some hours.

  The Australian was wearing the same suit and garish tie that he had arrived in and worn to the dinner. The tie was loose around his neck and there were beer stains down the front of the white shirt. No shoes, though, and a large hole in the heel of his left sock. A sad end, the Colonel thought, looking down at him. All deaths were sad but there was something very pathetic about this one.

  He looked up to see Geoffrey and Heather running towards him, followed by Wilson’s crew. They stood staring down at the Australian. Geoffrey put his arm round Heather.

  ‘What in God’s name happened, Hugh?’

  ‘I don’t know. Monty started barking and when I went to see what the trouble was I saw something floating in the water. When I realized what it was I went in and got him out. I tried to revive him but I’m afraid it’s far too late. The dinghy’s over there in the reeds. It looks as though he must have taken it out and fallen overboard.’

  Bill Steed said, ‘He wanted us all to go out on the lake again when we brought him back from the dinner last night. He went on about it being a bomber’s moon – just like on some ops in the old days. Of course we didn’t take any notice. We took him straight upstairs and put him to bed.’

  ‘He’s still wearing his suit.’

  ‘We didn’t try to undress him, Colonel. Except for his shoes. We took those off, loosened his tie, covered him up and made him as comfortable as we could. It’s what we always used to do with him. He went straight off to sleep. I thought he was still asleep in bed when I banged on his door this morning.’

  ‘You didn’t look to see?’

  ‘No. I thought it was best to leave him. Maybe he woke up while we were at church this morning and took the boat out then?’

  ‘I’d say he’d been in the water for longer than that.’

  Geoffrey said, ‘We’ll go and call for an ambulance and phone the police as well. I think that’s the drill. Will you stay here, Hugh?’

  ‘Of course.’

  He waited with the crew. They seemed badly shaken. The bomb aimer, Jack, kept shaking his head.

  ‘Poor old Don. First rate when he was sober but a real cretin when he wasn’t. He gets through the war without a scratch and then goes and does a stupid thing like this. Poor old Don.’

  Nobody, it seemed, had heard the Australian making his way downstairs and out of the house during the night but that’s what must have happened, the Colonel decided. The Cheethams always left the hall and landing lights on and the moon would have guided the man across the lawn to the lake and the jetty where the dinghy was moored. Untying the boat and getting into it must have been tricky in his state, and he had already demonstrated how useless he was at rowing. Falling overboard had been almost inevitable.

  ‘Could he swim?’

  ‘He was the only one of us who could,’ Jim Harper said. ‘He grew up by a beach in Sydney and we used to joke about him having the best chance if we ever came down in the sea. But the rest of us never learned as kids. It was all different before the war.’

  That was true enough, the Colonel thought. Public swimming pools in England would have been relatively few, private ones only for the rich and privileged, and ordinary people didn’t fly off on sunny summer holidays to foreign beaches. Today it was unusual for someone not to be able to swim, but not in those days.

  He walked over to where the boat was caught up in the reeds, the oars floating some way out on the water. The thick mud on the lake bottom had sucked hard at his feet when he had plunged in to reach the body and it had been very difficult to make headway. The Australian might have been able to swim but he was drunk and a drunk man didn’t need to be out of his depth to drown. All he needed was to be incapacitated.

  The ambulance arrived with paramedics and when they had satisfied themselves that there was nothing more to be done for Don Wilson, they took him away. The crew watched the stretcher being loaded into the ambulance, standing together in a silent, stricken group. The Colonel went to change out of his wet clothes.

  The police arrived an hour later – a young inspector with an even younger sergeant, following three respectful paces behind him. Inspector Dryden and Sergeant Reed.

  The inspector’s face was expressionless. ‘Perhaps you could tell us what happened, Mr Cheetham.’

  ‘We don’t know exactly. Mr Wilson was attending the RAF Buckby Reunion over the weekend and staying with us here at The Grange.’

  ‘He was a paying bed and breakfast guest?’

  ‘Yes. We’d never met him before. He went to the reunion dinner in Lincoln yesterday evening where he drank rather a lot and was brought back here. At some time during the night we think he must have taken our dinghy out on to the lake by himself and fallen in.’

  ‘Who brought him back from the dinner?’

  ‘These six gentlemen. They were all members of the same Lancaster bomber crew during the war and Mr Wilson was their mid-upper gunner. He arrived unexpectedly from Australia on Friday evening.’

  Bill Steed said, ‘We hadn’t seen or heard from Don for years, Inspector. We’d no idea that he was coming. Or that he’d be staying here.’

  ‘And Mr Wilson drank a lot during the evening?’

  ‘Yes. He was making a bit of a nuisance of himself so we took him away and brought him back here.’

  ‘In what way was he making a nuisance of himself?’

  ‘Talking nonsense, creating a rather embarrassing scene.’

  ‘So you took him off?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘All six of you?’

  ‘Yes. We’d been used to coping with him when he’d had one over the eight in the old days. We did thirty ops together, you see. We always looked after each other. Old habits die hard.’

  ‘I understand, sir.’

  How could the young inspector possibly understand, the Colonel wondered? How could he possibly comprehend the strength of the bond that held a bomber crew together? The unique brotherhood.

  The inspector continued. ‘What time did you get back with Mr Wilson?’

  ‘Around ten.’

  ‘And what happened then?’

  ‘There was a very bright moon and Don wanted us all to go off for a row on the lake, like we’d done earlier that afternoon. Of course, we put a stop to the idea. We took him indoors and got him up the stairs to his room.’

  ‘With difficulty?’

  ‘He was quite drunk. Yes, it was difficult.’

  ‘And then, sir?’

  ‘We laid him on the bed, loosened his tie, removed his shoes and put the cover over him. Just like we used to do in the war whenever he’d had too much. He went out like a light – or so we thought – and we left him and went to bed ourselves. He must have woken up some time during the night and gone out to the lake. He’d do stupid things when he’d been drinking.’

  ‘People do, sir. All too often. Didn’t you check his room when he hadn’t appeared for breakfast in the morning?’

  ‘I knocked on his door but he didn’t answer. We decided it was better to leave him to sleep. He’d had a long flight from Australia, as well as everything else, and he wasn’t in very good shape. Not at his age.’

  ‘Was the house front door locked last night, Mr Cheetham?’

  ‘Yes, but it can be opened easily from the inside. We have it like that so that guests can get out quickly if there’s a fire. We take our guests’ safety seriously, Inspector.’

  ‘I’m sure you do, sir. But the fact is that one of them has died. Was the boat easily accessible and left unattended?’

  ‘It’s kept moored at the jetty.’

  ‘Do you have any warning notice displayed there?’

  ‘Warning notice? No, we don’t.’

  ‘Boats and
water constitute a hazard, Mr Cheetham. Paying guests should have their attention drawn to any possible risks. And there should be a lifebelt to hand.’

  ‘We weren’t aware that was necessary either.’

  ‘It’s in your interests, as well as in the guests’.’

  There was a pause. The sergeant was writing notes busily.

  ‘So, what will happen now, Inspector?’

  ‘That’s up to the coroner, Mr Cheetham. He or she may decide a post-mortem is required to verify the cause of death.’

  ‘The man fell in the lake when he was drunk, and he drowned. Surely that’s obvious enough? It was an accident.’

  ‘It has to be established for certain, sir. And there remains the question of responsibility.’

  ‘What do you mean – responsibility?’

  ‘Whether any person or persons can be held responsible for Mr Wilson’s death.’

  ‘I don’t see how anyone could be. He was alone.’

  ‘We don’t know that for sure yet, sir. When exactly did you and Mrs Cheetham return from the dinner?’

  ‘Not until nearly midnight. The Colonel here is an old friend of mine staying with us as a private guest for the weekend and he drove us back in his car. Everyone else had already gone to bed. My wife went straight upstairs and the Colonel and I had a quick nightcap before we went too. It had been a long day. We were all tired.’

  ‘Did you hear Mr Wilson going downstairs during the night?’

  ‘No, we didn’t. But we wouldn’t have heard him unless he had made a lot of noise. My wife and I sleep at the front of the house away from the stairs. The Colonel’s room is there too.’

  ‘Overlooking the lake?’

  ‘No, the lake is at the other end of the house.’

  ‘How about the other bedrooms?’

  ‘They’re down another corridor, also away from the staircase. Nobody heard him.’

  ‘What time do you get up in the morning, Mr Cheetham?’

  ‘My wife and I are always up by six thirty when we have a full house. We have to get things ready for the breakfasts.’

  ‘Can you see the lake from the kitchen?’

  ‘Part of it, yes.’

  ‘But not all of it?’

  ‘No. Not all of it. There’s a bend in the middle. And we certainly didn’t see or hear Mr Wilson this morning, or last night either. Of course, Miss Warner’s room is near the stairs. She might have heard him.’

  ‘Miss Warner?’

  ‘Another of our guests.’

  ‘Is she also attending the RAF reunion?’

  The Colonel waited with interest for Miss Warner to be explained to the inspector.

  ‘No. She’s taking part in the annual Tudor re-enactment up at the Hall. It’s an annual three-week summer event.’

  ‘Was she here last night?’

  ‘Yes. She always has her supper on a tray in her room and my wife took it up to her before we left for the dinner in Lincoln. Miss Warner likes to retire very early. I imagine she sleeps soundly but I suppose it’s possible that she heard something.’

  ‘When will she be back?’

  ‘Not usually until after five.’

  ‘I’d like to speak to her as soon as she returns.’

  Which would be even more interesting, the Colonel thought.

  The inspector turned to him.

  ‘Colonel, I understand it was you who discovered Mr Wilson’s body in the lake and brought it out. What time was that?’

  ‘About a quarter to one. I’d walked back to the house soon after the memorial church service had ended and I went down to the lake.’

  ‘Any particular reason?’

  ‘No. I was simply waiting for the others to come back from church. Passing the time. Mr and Mrs Cheetham’s dog came with me and started barking at something round the corner of the bank. When I went to see what it was, I thought at first that it was some half-submerged rags among the weed. Then I saw the arms and hands and I realized it was a body, floating face down. The empty boat was caught up in the reeds by the bank and the oars some distance away.’

  ‘And you brought the body out of the water immediately and tried to revive Mr Wilson?’

  ‘I tried to, but unfortunately it was too late.’

  ‘Mrs Cheetham, I take it that you have Mr Wilson’s address in Australia? From when he made his booking with you?’

  ‘I’m sorry but I don’t. He phoned and I never learned his home address.’

  ‘You didn’t ask for it – for your records?’

  She shook her head, distressed. ‘I usually do, but it was a last-minute booking. He phoned from a public phone and it was a very short call.’

  ‘I’d like to see his room, please, madam.’

  Geoffrey said, ‘I wonder, if you’d mind showing the inspector, Hugh?

  ‘Not at all.’

  The Colonel had no idea which attic room had been used by the Australian but when he opened the first door at the top of the stairs it turned out to be a lucky guess. The bed cover was thrown back, the sheet creased and the pillow still held the imprint of Don Wilson’s head. His shoes had been put neatly beside the bed. Without thinking, the Colonel picked one up. It was scuffed and unpolished with worn-down heels, and it felt damp.

  ‘If you don’t mind, sir …’

  He replaced it at once.

  ‘I wonder why he didn’t put his shoes on before he went out.’

  ‘Would you have bothered, sir? If you’d been drinking a lot?’

  ‘No, I imagine not.’

  He watched while the two policemen went over the room, opening the shabby suitcase on the luggage rack, searching through the contents of the sponge bag in the adjoining bathroom, opening and shutting drawers and the wardrobe. There was very little to see. The suitcase held only a few basic clothes, the wardrobe nothing at all. There were no photographs, no address book or diary, no paperbacks or magazines and no wallet, which would probably be in a pocket of the suit Don Wilson was wearing when he drowned. The only other possession belonging to the dead man was his chrome watch lying on the bedside table – evidently removed by the crew, along with the shoes, though they hadn’t mentioned it.

  ‘I see they took his watch off.’

  ‘So they did, sir.’

  It had been placed on its edge so that Wilson would be able to see the dial when he woke up. A nice, considerate touch, the Colonel thought. He bent to take a closer look. Nothing special about it. Just a cheap chrome model like millions of others, but it happened to be showing exactly the right time.

  The inspector closed the wardrobe door with a shrug. He seemed to take a dim view of drunk-drownings.

  ‘They usually happen in a private swimming pool, sir. You’d be amazed how careless some people are about basic safety rules, specially at parties. Alcohol’s nearly always the key factor. I don’t have much sympathy with the adults, to tell the truth. That’s their look out. It’s the kids I care about – the little ones left unsupervised near a pool. Parents too busy or enjoying themselves too much to keep a proper eye on them. Drowning only takes a few minutes, that’s the tragedy. Did you know Mr Wilson well, sir?’

  ‘I didn’t know him at all. I first met him when he arrived here late on Friday evening. We only spoke a few times.’

  ‘What sort of impression did he make on you?’

  ‘It’s rather hard to say on such a short acquaintance. He told me that when he went back to Australia after the war was over he couldn’t settle down. He was something of a rolling stone, I gathered. Odd labouring jobs in Queensland, married and divorced twice … He said he won some money recently on the horses and used it to buy an airline ticket to come over for the RAF reunion.’

  ‘He and his old crew seem to have been great buddies.’

  ‘They certainly would have been during the war. They hadn’t seen him for many years but the bond was still there, as you will have noticed, inspector.’

  Another shrug. No, he obviously hadn’t understood
at all. How could he?

  ‘Well, the Australian police should be able to help us find out more about him and whether he has any family left Down Under.’

  They were going down the stairs when Miss Warner, in Tudor guise, entered through the front door, right on cue. The inspector might be very capable at handling most eventualities but the Colonel felt that this time he might be about to meet his match.

  TEN

  The policemen went away, taking the Australian’s meagre possessions with them.

  As the Colonel had anticipated, the inspector had had a sticky time with Miss Warner. She had approached the staircase as they were descending and stopped dead, a hand clasped to her bosom.

  ‘But stay! Who comes here?’

  The Colonel had enlightened her as to who did come there and, to help things along, he had also explained briefly what had happened. Miss Warner had looked distressed – far more than necessary since she had hardly set eyes on the Australian. All the re-enacting was bound to take over.

  ‘What ill news is this! Poor gentleman! Woe is me!’

  The inspector had hesitated, but only for a second. ‘I understand you retired to your room early yesterday, Miss Warner?’

  ‘’Tis my custom.’

  ‘And did you go to sleep early?’

  ‘I did. I was sore weary.’

  ‘Mr Wilson was brought back early from a dinner in Lincoln by the six gentlemen also staying here. Did you happen to hear them helping him up the stairs to his room?’

  ‘Indeed I did, sir. They didst wake me with all the commotion they made. Methinks, Mr Wilson had drunk deep, if I am not mistook.’

  The inspector took a slow breath. ‘Miss Warner, I must ask you to speak in plain English.’

  ‘Marry, I do not understand you, sir. My tongue is as plain as yours and in truth I can speak no other.’

 

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