by Leo Bruce
“Ernest was always a crafty creature and a sneak, even when we were children. He was able to forestall the men who wanted to kill him. He persuaded the Japanese to give out that he had been shot. The sound of a firing squad was actually simulated, I believe. In fact, he was moved to another camp under another name.
“But Lobbin was unaware of this. He told me first that my brother had been shot by the Japanese for refusing to betray his comrades. When he heard that I already knew some of the truth he said that he and his comrades had the gravest doubts as to whether Ernest had been shot at all. I thanked him for his information and that was the end of the matter.”
“Was this the first time that you had heard your brother’s death doubted?”
Mrs Dalbinney hesitated.
“He was reported Missing Believed Killed,” she said. “Afterwards, in connection with my father’s estate, he was presumed dead.”
“But you, Mrs Dalbinney, what did you think?”
“I believed him dead. But of course there always was an element of doubt. Not sufficient to embarrass us in connection with my father’s estate, but still a trifle disturbing on an occasion such as I describe.”
“Did you tell your brothers and sister what you had learned from Lobbin?”
“Certainly. We are a very united family. We talked the matter over at length. It was pointed out by my brother Locksley that even if there was any truth in this story of Ernest’s survival, it need not perturb us now, for Ernest might only have postponed his fate and even if he was still living was unlikely to admit his identity.”
“So that his brothers and sisters could remain in possession of his part of the estate?”
“You must understand, Mr Deene, that it was not the money we thought about but the scandal and distress which his return would bring to us. My brother Locksley considered it quite likely that Ernest would be publicly disgraced, if not tried and sentenced for his treachery. In a family like ours that would be hard to bear.”
“In any family,” said Carolus quietly. “So you were all a bit jittery about it?”
“We were, for a time, a mite uneasy. But as my brother Bertrand said, the situation had existed since 1944 so there was no reason to suppose it would come to anything now.”
“You had no further indication that Ernest was alive?”
“None whatever until the body of the murdered man was identified as his.”
“Who identified it?”
“There was a great deal of external evidence and my brothers were able to give more. There is no doubt about it. The body was Ernest’s.”
“Suppose he had not been murdered. What do you think your family would have done in the circumstances, Mrs Dalbinney?”
“We have never discussed it. I think, for my own part, that a financial adjustment would have been made, provided Ernest continued to live abroad under a different name.”
“Very sensible.”
“It would have avoided the scandal. That is our main concern. That is why I came to see you, Mr Deene. I need scarcely say that we had no other apprehension in this matter.”
“But when you came to see me the scandal had already broken. It was known that the murdered man was your brother.”
“We wished it to be cleared up as quickly as possible. As soon as the murderer was found and tried the whole wretched thing would begin to fade out of the memory of the public. I have my young sons to think of. I do not wish them to grow up with a shadow of this kind over them. And now tell me, Mr Deene, have you begun to form any ideas on the subject?”
“No. I only came here this morning. I find it a most baffling and intriguing mystery.”
“Intriguing? That sounds very flippant when our family name is at stake.”
“Not really. I am never flippant about murder. Indeed I am told I am inclined to be pompous about it. But in this case I do not feel that the victim need be greatly mourned. That does not make me any less anxious to identify his murderer. Even if it was an act of revenge.”
“Revenge? You mean Ernest may have been killed by someone who suffered, all those years ago, from his treachery?”
“It would be a motive, wouldn’t it? One must always consider who can have a motive for murder.”
Mrs Dalbinney grew somewhat excited.
“I see! You think he may have been recognized … Mr Deene! Do you realize that there was someone in Selby that night who had suffered from his treachery? Who had once planned to murder him? Who would have recognized him?”
“You are going altogether too fast. If you mean Lobbin, we don’t know that he was among those who are supposed to have planned to murder Ernest Rafter in a prison camp. We don’t know that he recognized him.”
“But it’s remarkable! I begin to see …”
“Please let me warn you, Mrs Dalbinney, against any such hasty ideas. I only said that I should be no less anxious to find the murderer even if his motive was revenge. There might be many reasons for revenge. There is a great deal of Ernest’s life about which we know little or nothing. And revenge, anyway, is only one of a number of possible motives.”
“Still, I feel convinced that you are seeking in the right direction. Pray continue with your investigations, Mr Deene, and forget that I expressed any doubt about the necessity for them. You are an extremely percipient man. I do not think the police themselves are aware of this link with Lobbin.”
“If they are, they are scarcely likely to regard it as a link. Certainly not as a motive for murder.”
“We shall see!” said Mrs Dalbinney.
8
DORIS received him like an old friend when he went into the bar of the Queen Victoria that evening.
“You know what we were talking about, don’t you?” she said leaning across the counter confidentially. “Well that’s one of that lot over there by the mantelpiece with the Boxer dog. Emma Rafter, that is, and she’s taken to slipping in for a couple of quick ones since all this happened. Worried her, I daresay. She’s mad on horses, so they tell me, and I told Vivienne just now, she’s rather like a horse herself. Didn’t I, Vivienne?”
“Mmmm,” said Vivienne, loftily amused.
“She’s a very good soul, I believe, but she does look a bit of a freak, doesn’t she? She’s always got that Boxer dog with her.”
Not really a freak, thought Carolus. In a way she looked rather handsome, though he could see no likeness to her sister. The ‘horsiness’ referred to by Doris was not a crude and mannish quality. One could see it, yet one would imagine her riding side-saddle. She was quite alone and Carolus went across and introduced himself. She was polite enough but seemed nervous.
“Oh yes. Isobel told me. You’re going to find out everything for us.”
“And about you,” said Carolus facetiously. “May I get you a drink?”
“About us? Oh thanks. Yes, gin and tonic.”
Vivienne served Carolus and when he returned he found Emma Rafter looking even less at ease.
“I hope you clear it up. It’s been dreadful. For me, particularly.”
“Why for you particularly?”
“Because Ernest … you see, he and I were much of an age. We were together a lot as children. I never believed all that was said about him. He was rather a selfish boy, I know, and not very straight, but I was fond of him and when this happened … I mean, it was my brother.”
So there was one person at least who expressed some kind of regret at Ernest’s death.
“Your sister seems chiefly concerned about the scandal it has caused.”
“Oh, she’s like that. She does not mean to be heartless but she does rather worry about family, and she has the two boys to think of. That side of it means very little to me. In fact I think my business has improved since this happened.”
“I didn’t know you had a business, Miss Rafter.”
“Yes. Out at Purshott. The only bit of hunting country left around here. I’ve got stables.”
“I see. I envy you.”
“Do you hunt?”
“Only murderers,” said Carolus. “I never seem to have time for any other kind.”
“Shame. Do come out if you feel like it. Meet my partner. I’m out there every day.”
“Did you go out there on the day of the murder?”
“I wonder why you ask that. Yes, I expect I did. Can’t remember now.”
Carolus caught Doris’s eye. She seemed to have something to say to him and when, a few minutes later, Emma turned to speak to a friend he went up to the counter.
“I forgot to tell you,” she said, her lips almost touching his ear as she leaned across. “She was in here that night. The one you’re talking to, I mean. She only came in for a minute Early On. I remember by the dog. I believe it was the first time she’d been in here.”
“Was the man here then?”
“I couldn’t say. You don’t really notice anything like that, do you?”
“Yes,” said Carolus. “At all events you would have noticed if they’d recognized one another and spoken, wouldn’t you?”
“Ten to one I should have unless I was busy at the time.”
Carolus returned to stand beside Emma Rafter.
“I’m sorry if I seem to ask impertinent questions,” he said. “Perhaps it’s because I’ve got so little to work on. You see, the only people known to me or, I think, the police, who can be thought to have the shadow of a motive for this crime are the members of your family. It may seem to you, as it seems to your sister, ‘ridiculous’, but it means that I must start by asking you all a few questions.”
“It doesn’t seem to me ridiculous,” said Emma. “I can quite see the point of it. What do you want to know?”
“When did you last see your … brother, Miss Rafter?”
“Ernest? Nearly twenty years ago.”
“You had no reason to think he was still alive?”
“Isobel had some story from a man who had been a fellow-prisoner of his, but I didn’t take much notice of it.”
“But since that story? Nearer the time of his death?”
“See him, you mean?”
“Yes. Or hear that he was alive?”
“Even if I had believed that story Isobel heard I should certainly not have believed he would come to Selby.”
“Would you have recognized him if you had seen him, do you think?”
“I doubt it. My brothers went to the mortuary to identify him, but of course he was dreadfully disfigured….”
“I meant if you had seen him alive.”
“I don’t know. How can I know that?”
“Only, in fact, if you did see him alive. Did you, Miss Rafter?”
Carolus watched her keenly.
“I wondered when that question would come,” she answered after a pause. “I know that I must have been in this bar at the same time as he was because I came in for a drink on my way to meet my sister and I have since been told what his movements were. But I have not been asked till now. Perhaps it did not occur to the police that I might have come here. The answer is—no. I was here for about five minutes only. I did not observe who was in the bar. I saw no strangers. If my brother Ernest was here I did not recognize him or even notice anyone who might have been him. So I can’t help you there.”
“It seems strange that having come to England with the idea of revealing himself and, one would suppose, claiming the money left to him in your father’s will …”
“How do you know that’s what he came for?”
“I don’t know. But I do know he went to Somerset House to examine the will. And he would scarcely have come down to Selby unless he intended to see his family.”
“Then why didn’t he get in touch with his family at once?”
“It is not known whether he did or not. He had six hours here. He certainly went to the hall from this bar with the idea of telephoning.”
“You think we’re lying, then?”
“Miss Rafter, I must keep an absolutely open mind. But I repeat that it seems strange that neither during the two weeks of his stay in London nor during the six hours of his presence in Selby did he, apparently, communicate with any of you.”
“I see your point. But we don’t lie, Mr Deene. You haven’t met my brothers yet?”
“No.”
“When you do so you will have a better understanding of them. They are both incapable of that kind of deceit. The first they knew of Ernest for nearly twenty years was that he had been murdered in a shelter on the promenade. Except for that story Isobel heard.”
“May I ask you one or two more questions?”
“Yes. Of course.”
“Let’s go back to the day of the murder. You are not sure whether you went out to your stables at Purshott?”
“I expect I did. I can easily check on that if it’s important. I know I came here at about seven o’clock.”
“And stayed only live minutes? Yet you were not meeting your sister till seven-thirty, I believe?”
Emma Rafter seemed more impatient than worried by this question.
“I did not count the minutes. Mr Deene. I say I came here about seven—it may have been five or even ten past. I stayed about five minutes—it may have been seven or even ten. I then had ten minutes walk to the Palatine. I don’t know whether we met at precisely seven-thirty. It may have been seven-twenty-five or seven-thirty-five. And so on. But when I left here I went straight to the cinema.”
“You did not make a phone call?”
“No.”
“Or go into the hall of this hotel?”
“No.”
“The film was?”
“The Black Island”
“What time did you come out?”
“Again I don’t know to the minute but somewhere about ten.”
“You were both on foot?”
“Yes.’
“And walked straight back to Mrs Dalbinney’s flat?”
“Virtually, yes.”
“You mean?”
“This is too silly. I’ve told Isobel she’s absurd. In fact we crossed the road to the promenade for a moment to get the stale air of the cinema out of our lungs. She asked me to omit this from my statement to the police because she thought it might involve us in some way as witnesses.”
“Why? Did you see anything or anyone?”
“Yes. We saw the man who had told Isobel that story about Ernest. A newsagent called Lobbin.”
“Oh, you saw Lobbin.”
“He crossed the road in front of us, coming from the town. It did not seem important to me but Isobel asked me not to mention it.”
“How long were you on the promenade?”
“I should say at the most two minutes.”
“Who suggested going across?”
“No one. It was a custom of ours. We often go to that cinema together and usually go and sniff the ozone before retiring.”
“Your sister told me very indignantly that she had never walked along the promenade at night in her life.”
“That’s true. We don’t walk along it. We cross it, go to the rails and return.” She was smiling now. “Is it very reprehensible?”
“You remained together that evening? I mean, after you left the cinema you were not apart for a moment?”
“Not till we went to bed at about midnight.”
“You didn’t see Paul Dalbinney?”
This seemed to startle Emma somewhat.
“Paul? No.”
“He had gone to bed?”
“I don’t know. Probably. There’s nothing much to do in Selby after the cinema.”
“One last question. Did either of you make or receive a phone call after returning to Mrs Dalbinney’s flat that evening?”
“One last answer. No. Now you have a drink with me.”
When Emma Rafter had gone Carolus went across to the counter where Doris and Vivienne were unoccupied for a few moments.
“The first rush is over,” explained Doris. “We usually get them
in soon after we open till now, when it Goes Quiet. Then we’re busy around nine. Did you find out what you wanted?”
“Yes,” said Carolus.
“She’s a scream, really, isn’t she? But not a bad sort when you get to know her.”
Carolus, who was sure about neither of these, nodded.
“I wish you could remember whether she was here at the same time as the man who was murdered that night.”
“It’s no good my making it up,” said Doris, “and I can’t be sure either way. I know she was in Early On that night and so was he, but whether it was the same time or not I can’t say. Did you notice, Vivienne?”
“What was that?” asked Vivienne.
“Whether that fellow with the staring eyes was here at the same time as Miss Rafter that night?”
“I couldn’t say, I’m sure,” replied Vivienne from far away.
“Only Mr Deene wants to know. He’s trying to find out about the murder. I tell him I can’t be sure. It must have been about the same time, mustn’t it?”
“Mmmm,” said Vivienne without interest.
“I could ask Mr Lobbin when he comes in. He might have noticed. He was here all that evening as I told you.”
“No. Don’t do that,” said Carolus. “I’ll be having a chat with him later and can ask him myself. But I’d like to know which he is, if he comes in.”
“Oh he’ll be in all right. He’s usually in before this. It’s the only bit of peace he gets all day to come in here. She’s on at him like I don’t know what from the time he gets up in the morning. Such a nice fellow, too. Wouldn’t hurt a fly. Still, they’re the ones that marry them, aren’t they?”
“Are you married?” asked Carolus.
“Me? Gracious no. You won’t catch me marrying anyone. No thank you. Vivienne is, though, aren’t you, Vivienne?”
“Mmmm,” said Vivienne without enthusiasm.
“Is there anyone else you want pointing out to you? “Doris asked Carolus.
“Do you ever get a man called Bodger in here?”
Doris smiled.
“Hear that, Vivienne? No, we don’t. He used to come in a lot until a few months ago but we don’t have him in here now. Well, I told Mr Rugley I wouldn’t serve him again. Mr Rugley was quite all right about it. ‘I don’t blame you’, he said. Well, I mean to say.”