Death on a Dark Sea (The Inspector Felix Mysteries Book 2)

by R. A. Bentley

  A tall, round-shouldered man in indeterminate middle-age, half raised a hand. 'Señora Pérez is in her cabin with her maid, Effie Smith, Inspector, and my daughter Constance is looking after Mrs Bainbridge, who is lying down.'

  'And your name, sir?'

  'Humphrey Harrison.'

  'Thank you, Mr Harrison. Perhaps you'll convey my remarks to them. Which one of you gentlemen is Mr Bainbridge?'

  A pale, sandy-haired young man stepped forward, his face a picture of anxiety. 'Me, Inspector. Did the doctor have a word with you, about my wife?'

  'Hello, sir. Yes he did, and if it's agreeable to you, I'm going to send her ashore in the police-launch. I'll talk to you about it shortly. In the meantime, if everyone will remain below until we've completed our work on deck, that would be most helpful. It shouldn't take too long. Thank you.'

  'Not much wailing and lamentation in evidence,' observed Rattigan as they retraced their steps. 'Unloved, do you suppose?'

  'Nor was there. Tension, weariness, possibly apprehension, but no palpable grief. Can't always tell of course.'

  The doctor appeared behind them. 'May I suggest the body now, gentleman? He's not getting any fresher.'

  The Captain led the way to a raised hatch situated almost at the stern of the vessel. 'Here we are: the lazarette. We had him in the deckhouse for a while but it was getting a bit toasty in there and this is relatively cool. I shan't come with you as there's not much room.'

  Climbing down, they found themselves in a kind of low-ceilinged store-room, with rope, blocks and other nautical paraphernalia piled on shelves or hung about the bare plating of the hull. In the centre was a box-like construction that made a convenient bier for the unfortunate Luis Pérez. Here the motion seemed even more severe, and the stench of corruption was already apparent. Felix began hastily to convey his impressions to Rattigan who half-crouching, proceeded to note them down.

  The man lying before them had been stabbed in the upper abdomen, just beneath the sternum. He was aged, Felix estimated, about fifty-five, deep-chested and narrow-hipped, with little obvious fat and weighing perhaps a hundred and fifty pounds. On measurement he was discovered to be some five feet seven inches tall. His hair was black with only a little grey at the temples and his complexion sallow. Although clean-shaven he was otherwise rather hirsute. His eyes were closed and his face peaceful.

  'Roman Catholic, do you suppose?'

  'Yes, I asked. The widow says the priest can wait.'

  'How's she taking it?'

  'Calmly enough. She says she knows who did it.'

  'Well we'll come to that. What do you make of the wound?'

  'Same as you, probably. Thrusting, penetrating, fairly narrow or tapered blade, maybe not so sharp. Not necessarily a knife of course. I'll know more later.'

  'And the other marks?'

  'Excoriations and contusions. Those to the chin and anterior torso are probably from being dragged into the ship's tender. There are a few others elsewhere, such as one might get from being thrown around in heavy weather – we see a lot of those, as you might expect – but no obvious signs of a fight or struggle.'

  'Time and cause of death?'

  'I got here just after eleven pm and I'd say he died about an hour earlier. Abdominal stab wounds seldom kill instantly so the immediate cause was probably drowning while unconscious or incapacitated. There may be other factors — He was a sick man.'

  'Emphysema?'

  Doctor Edwards looked pleased. 'You'll have noticed the fingers. And the chest, of course. Which emboldens me to ask – unusual name and all that – your father isn't, by any chance, Sir Roger Felix, the surgeon?'

  'Yes he is. Do you know him?'

  'Not seen him in thirty years. We were pals at Kings under Knightly, ghastly old reprobate. I've followed his illustrious career, of course. What's he up to nowadays?'

  'Semi-retired. He's got a little practice near Winchester. I've just come from there, as it happens.'

  'Likes to keep his hand in, eh? Well he's obviously taught you a thing or two. Give the old boy my regards, will you?'

  When, to Felix's considerable relief, they emerged into fresh air, they found sergeant Yardley eagerly waiting.

  'The Captain's got some blood for us, sir. Or what looks like blood. There are some drops on the deck, by the look of it, and more on the side of the deckhouse. We may be able to get some of that.'

  Following him, Felix bent and peered at the splash of reddish brown, barely visible against the varnished mahogany. 'Certainly could be. Well spotted, Captain. When did you find it?'

  'Dawn this morning. At first I thought it was just wet, but then I saw that bit on the window.'

  'Oh yes, so there is. Well that's blood all right. Does anyone else know about it?'

  'I haven't told anyone. I thought I'd best keep it under my hat. No-one has mentioned it.'

  'That's excellent! You did the right thing. Yardley, can I leave you chaps to get some samples? Two or three, if possible. Here's the key to my case. And try for some photos. Then you'd best have a go at the body, not that I'm expecting much off that. Rattigan, we'll see Bainbridge now I think.'

  'Do you want me to get it analysed for you, the blood?' said Dr Edwards. 'I'm afraid it'll have to be Southampton, if your chaps would oblige. I've already taken some off the body — save time later.'

  'Doctor, that would be marvellous; and needless to say, the sooner we can have your initial notes the happier we'll be. Captain, can you find us somewhere a bit private to work?'

  'Plenty of choice, Inspector,' said Captain Simmons. 'We've an empty cabin aft, or there's Pérez's study, or perhaps here in the deckhouse. There's a table, as you see, and it's relatively isolated.'

  Felix straightened up and peered in. With it's tall, narrow windows and panelled walls the deckhouse was, he thought, somewhat reminiscent of a railway carriage, incongruously set between the masts. The chartroom, further aft, was similarly constructed. 'This should do very well. And also, do you happen to have a plan of the ship — the internal layout?'

  'Yes, I've still got the original blueprints somewhere, I think. Or I can draw one for you easily enough.'

  'Excellent. Either will do. Ah, there you are Bainbridge. Sorry to keep you waiting. Come on in.'

  They settled themselves at the forrard end of the substantial cabin. A clean, blue cloth covered the table that had so recently seen Luis Pérez's last meal, and had then borne, for a while, his corpse. Felix felt a wry satisfaction that from here they would investigate his murder. There was something, he thought, vaguely mediaeval about it. Rattigan made to drop the blinds, but he shook his head. 'I'd quite like to see out, I think.'

  Normally in rude health, he'd begun to feel a little off-colour, no doubt due to the unpleasant atmosphere in the lazarette. He knew that police surgeons and pathologists got used to it, but it reminded him too powerfully of the trenches. A smoke would probably improve matters. He took out his cigarette case and offered one to Andrew, who politely refused.

  'No? All right. Now, what I need from you, sir, is your version of the events of last night, particularly those that are unique to you and Mrs Bainbridge. The more detail you can give us, however seemingly trivial, the better we'll like it. Sergeant Rattigan, meanwhile, will scribble furiously and miss nothing, or so he'll claim.'

  'Where shall I start?' asked Andrew.

  'How about when you arrived?'

  'All right. My wife and I were collected from the town quay by what they call the harbour launch – it's really a sort of water-taxi, I think – at about six o'clock yesterday.'

  'Six pm, is that, sir?' asked Rattigan.

  'Yes, sorry. Colonel Escobar arrived a few minutes after us, and a eccentric-looking young chap with red-dyed hair. The boatman wouldn't let him on. Turned out to be a friend of Maurice, Julia Pérez's son.'

  'Beg pardon, sir,' said Rattigan. 'Is that Señora Pérez, wife of Luis?'

  'Yes, that's right. On the way, we dropped a few p
eople off to other yachts and collected the American contingent from theirs – we had to wait around a bit for them – arriving here at six forty-five or so. We had sherry in the saloon and then came up here to dine at, I suppose, about seven-thirty. It was dreadfully hot and sticky and tempers got a bit frayed. Maurice got very angry with Pérez about his friend not being allowed aboard, told him he was "beneath contempt" and marched out. Apparently he was sent to his room for that. We didn't see him again until this morning.'

  'How old is Maurice,' asked Felix. 'Do you know?'

  'I'm not sure. I should say about eighteen.'

  'What happened then?'

  'That was at the end of the meal; or rather, it ended it really. Before that there was a bit of friction between Luther Baker the American gentleman and Colonel Escobar, who is Mexican. I don't quite know what that was about because I was at the other end of the table and we'd sort of split into two camps. Lucia said it didn't amount to much. She was next to Pérez and spent some time talking to him, as did Escobar.'

  'What did they talk about?'

  'Poetry, apparently. All perfectly amicable. Pérez wasn't involved in the exchange with Baker and seems to have ignored it.'

  'And after the meal?'

  'We went below again; Harrison, Baker and Escobar to do business with Pérez in his study and the rest of us to sit about in the saloon. My wife and I stayed there for the rest of the evening, including when the events unfolded on deck.'

  'You didn't go on deck at all?'

  'No, I was concerned about Lucia. She's delicate, which makes it rather worrying. There wasn't much I could do on deck anyway, except get in the way, so we stayed below. I was wondering, Inspector, if I might be allowed to go ashore with her. Her English is inclined to go to bits if she's ill or frightened, which she might be without me, and there'll be no-one to translate for her.'

  'Your wife is Spanish?'

  'Yes.'

  'Any relation to Señor Pérez?

  'No, I met her when I worked in Madrid. Our head office is there.'

  'She worked there?'

  'No, we met through friends.'

  'Why were you at the party?'

  'It was business. I was told to attend. Lucia insisted on coming with me to see Connie Harrison; they're great pals. I was hoping for a rise, or perhaps a promotion, but then he – Pérez – offered me the North American account. You could have knocked me over with a feather.'

  'Why was that?'

  'Because, quite apart from my age and experience, that was Humphrey Harrison's pigeon. It accounts for about half the company's business.'

  'Was that as a result of the meeting? Did he do it before or afterwards?'

  'Afterwards. We could hear a bit of a row going on. It might have been because of that, or he might have planned to give it to me anyway. It was all rather rum.'

  'Could you hear what was said?'

  'Not really. The study is off the corridor that leads aft. It's not that close to the saloon.'

  'Was it normal for Pérez to get into rows?'

  'No, not at all. No-one would have dared. You did what you were told or you were out. It was Harrison doing the shouting though, not Pérez. Pérez never shouts. Shouted, I should say. If he was angry, he'd growl at you in a sort of low monotone – quite chilling in its way – and if you wanted to keep your job you took it on the chin. He wasn't a very nice man, I'm afraid.'

  'I see. What about the others, Baker and Escobar? What were they doing during this row?'

  'Escobar wasn't there by then. He came out quite early, before it all started. He stayed with us for a few minutes and then went on deck. He wasn't actually with them for very long.'

  'How long, would you say?'

  'Perhaps ten minutes or so.'

  'Did he come below again, after going on deck?'

  'Not that I'm aware of, but we were sitting facing away from the aft companionway so we couldn't easily see all the comings and goings. You might have noticed an arrangement of banquettes around the dining table, on the starboard side of the saloon. Most of us sat there, and Lucia and I were in a corner of it facing forrard. Lucia was dozing against me off and on, and I didn't want to disturb her by turning round. After the row, Humphrey Harrison went up on deck too, I think. He wasn't in the saloon anyway. Yes, of course he did, because Mrs Harrison got agitated and wanted to go to him and Connie said she ought not to. Again, I can't be sure whether he came back, but I doubt it or Mrs Harrison would have said something to him. If he did, I think he must have returned to the study.'

  'Why did Miss Harrison discourage her mother from going to her father?'

  'She'd been talking to Luther Baker, apparently – Connie, that is – and thought she knew what the row was about. She seemed to feel her mother would make matters worse if she interfered.'

  'And what was it about?'

  'As far as I can tell – and nothing has been said to me – the awarding of a contract. It appears it went to Escobar. Ours is very much a seller's market: people compete to buy from us. Baker is what we call a "preferred customer," so would have expected to be favoured, but Harrison seems to have been the one to take umbrage. They're friends, which might explain it.'

  'This was a sale of arms?'

  'Rifles, yes.'

  'Has Mr Harrison talked to you about the meeting?'

  'Not to me, no. He's been very quiet and withdrawn, as I suppose you might expect. He's been working alongside Pérez for seven years, so this must have hit him pretty hard. I tried to explain that I hadn't set out to pinch his job from him and he just sort of grunted.'

  'Weren't you asked to join the others, if you were here on business?'

  'No. I expected to be, of course, but it never happened. After the row, Pérez came into the saloon and briefly spoke to me, offering me the job. I was a bit flustered and I'm sorry to say I accepted it. Then he carried on into the corridor that leads forward. Forrard, rather. You can't see far down it because there's a mast in the way. The foremast, I suppose. That's the last time we saw him. He seemed his usual self and when Julia asked if everything was all right he said that it was. He was lighting a cigar.'

  'What time was that? Did you notice?'

  'No, sorry, I didn't. My watch had stopped at some point and I didn't get around to winding it until later. I suppose it must have been an hour or so after dinner, although it might not have been that long. I was worried about Lucia and wanted to leave. She'd begun to say she felt strange, and I was wondering if, you know, something was happening.'

  'And just to remind me, who was with you in the saloon during that time, apart from your wife?'

  'All the ladies, and Robert, who I believe is Mr Bakers's great-nephew. It was all a bit aimless and very hot and close. Connie played the piano for a while, but eventually gave up. It wasn't a very nice atmosphere really, what with dinner being a bit of a strain and then the row. Then Mrs Harrison suggested that the younger people explore the ship and Robert and Alice did, or went off to do that. I don't know where, except I think Alice said they might look in on Captain Simmons, whom they apparently know.'

  'Who is Alice?' asked Felix, seeing Rattigan's questioning expression.

  'Baker's great-niece. She and Robert are brother and sister.'

  'Ages?'

  'I should think twenty or so. And Connie is twenty-two. I know that because she's the same age as Lucia. Er, where was I?'

  'Sorry, I've broken your flow. Then Robert and Alice went away and . . . ?'

  'Yes. No, wait. Sorry. Robert and Alice went on deck before Harrison and Pérez came out.'

  'Right. So by the time Pérez passed through the saloon, Harrison, Escobar, and Robert and Alice Baker had all gone on deck?'

  'Yes, that's right. Then not long after Pérez went forrard, Julia did too, to order us some coffee. She was gone a few minutes then came running back. Someone asked what was the matter but I don't think she answered. She just ran across the room and I could hear her scampering up the aft compan
ionway behind us. A minute or two later she cried out that Pérez was in the water, and everyone started rushing about and mostly disappeared.'

  'What time was that?'

  Andrew hesitated. 'I'm terribly sorry, Inspector, I really don't know. As I said, my watch had stopped and I couldn't see the clock on the saloon wall without turning. To be honest, it didn't actually occur to me to look. I doubt if it was even half an hour after Pérez went forrard. I'd guess about twenty minutes.'

  'And then?'

  'Then, as I said, they mostly went away and left us. Only Ruby, Alice's friend – she's about the same age, by the way – stayed behind. I think she'd taken a bit of a shine to Lucia, and when the others went up she waited to see that she was all right. She'd just been to the head, yet again — Lucia, I mean. It seems to be a feature of advanced pregnancy.'

  Felix smiled sympathetically. 'Is this your first?'

  'Yes. It's terrifying.'

  'I take it this head thing is what they call the lavatory, sir?' interrupted Rattigan.

  'Yes, sorry. It's all jargon to me too. There's a bathroom down the aft corridor. She hadn't long been back when Luther Baker appeared. I only really saw him out of the corner of my eye, but I heard him say, "What in tarnation is going on?" I particularly remember that because of the expression, like something out of a cowboy story.'

  'Baker came from where — the study?'

  'Yes, I suppose so. From aft anyway. Then Ruby said she'd go on deck and report back, except we had a pretty good idea what was happening by then because of the shouting. And then we were alone for a while. I was just contemplating going up myself when Mrs Harrison came and told us what had happened.'

  'That Señor Pérez had been murdered?'