Burying her face in Felix's handkerchief, Julia now gave way to noisy and unrestrained sobbing, causing him to nod to Rattigan, who put aside his notebook and slipped out of the room. He was back almost immediately with Winifred, who had clearly been hovering nearby.
'It's all right, Sergeant; I can manage,' said Winifred. 'I'll see if Constance has something she can give her. Come along, Julia dear.'
'I'm so sorry,' sobbed Julia. I really am so sorry.'
'That's a nuisance,' said Rattigan, when they'd gone.
'Yes. We'll have to leave her for a while, I think. At all events, she doesn't appear to have witnessed the actual stabbing; she simply saw Olofsson behaving suspiciously, discovered her stricken husband and put two and two together. Not an irrational assumption by any means, but not very helpful to us. We'll first have to rule out Harrison and Escobar.'
'And the Baker kids.'
'Yes, I suppose so.'
Rattigan removed his reading spectacles, peered at them thoughtfully and replaced them. 'But if Olofsson didn't do it, why was he wandering the deck in his birthday suit when he claims to have been asleep? Or do the Swedes do that sort of thing? Don't they strip off and beat themselves with twigs or something? Or is that the Finns?'
Felix smiled. 'Not aboard ship, I doubt. But we can't assume because of some eccentric behaviour that he's the killer. However, let's say he is, how was it done? He pursues Pérez to just outside this window, or finds him there, mortally stabs him and gently eases him into the briny to avoid much of a splash or commotion. He then slips back to the fo'c'sle, pausing for a moment to peer over the rail at his victim. Maybe when he turns, he spots the Señora at the head of the companionway, realises he can't go below without passing her, so ducks out of sight and hides, perhaps in the sail-locker, hoping she didn't see him. Then when Simmons calls him, he rushes heroically to the rescue, already conveniently stripped for action. Since he has every opportunity to finish the job by drowning his victim, should that prove necessary, he gains some kudos without any risk of Pérez surviving to accuse him.
'Alternatively, he could be perfectly innocent. Maybe he's dozing in his bunk and hears something that causes him to leap on deck to investigate. It was very hot, don't forget, so he might well have been sleeping in the buff, with the fo'c'sle door open. I didn't see any ports, just a skylight, but that may not matter. Observations please, Teddy.'
'In that case, sir, I'll need a pipe.'
'I'll join you.'
They sat for a while in quiet contemplation until Rattigan said, 'Let's say he is the killer, sir. What would cause him to be both armed and naked like that? If you'd planned to attack someone with a bladed instrument, would you do it in a state of undress? You might feel a bit vulnerable, if you take my meaning. I reckon it would have needed to be unpremeditated — done in hot blood, so to say. In which case, wouldn't there have been an angry confrontation before the assault, with shouting, or at least raised voices? He surely wouldn't just take it into his head to rush out and knife Pérez for no reason. And unless he's in the habit of wandering the deck naked, the row probably started in the fo'c'sle, which is only a few feet from a galley full of caterers. Surely someone would have heard? And if they didn't hear, wouldn't that suggest it didn't happen? And if it didn't happen, maybe it wasn't Oloffson that did it. Does that make sense?'
'Yes it does. Although maybe they did hear something. We'll have to ask. And Pérez, don't forget, wasn't a shouter. How did Bainbridge describe it? — a low, threatening monotone. Olofsson might have received a telling off for something, brooded on it, then dashed out to take his revenge. However, I take your point. And what a contentious little man Pérez would have to be, going straight from a very public row in his study to looking for trouble in the fo'c'sle.
'Let's consider the alternative. Dozing in his bunk, Olofsson is alerted by a disturbing noise or voices. He hurries on deck, not bothering to dress, and witnesses the murder, or its immediate aftermath. For his own reasons he decides to keep quiet. Maybe he doesn't want to shop the culprit, or he's not sufficiently sure of what he's seen, or he's perfectly content to see Pérez done away with, provided someone else does it. Consider also that he's a foreigner with poor English. What would he do, he wonders, if he were himself accused? He's alone on the foredeck and has no alibi. Best to creep away and say nothing. So when he spots the Señora's head sticking up from the companionway he ducks out of sight, hoping she hasn't seen him.'
'Yes, that's at least as plausible,' said Rattigan. 'And it would tie in with Buckler's suspicions about him holding something back. The only problem is, would he have been likely to hear anything suspicious while down there in the fo'c'sle, even with everything thrown open, and if he did, why didn't anyone else?'
'Well, we can experiment with that. Maybe it was something only a seaman would notice.'
'Are we going to ask him about it, then — being on deck?'
'No, let's see what else we can find out first.'
Nash and Yardley came in.
'Lots of interesting comings and goings, sir,' said Nash. 'The galley doors are double and usually open, so anyone passing them stands a good chance of being spotted.'
'Can you give us a summary?'
Nash took out his notebook. 'Well, at around eight pm, while the meal was still in progress, the young chap, Maurice, arrived and went to his cabin. Sometimes they call them rooms and sometimes it's cabins, sir, so I'll stick to the latter if you don't mind. The chef, Giuseppe, did most of the talking. He doesn't seem to miss much. He particularly remembers Maurice arriving because he slammed his door hard and it's directly opposite the galley. Then, moments later, Señor Pérez arrived and went in to see him. They reckon they both probably came along the deck and down the forrard companionway as that's the quickest route from the deckhouse. Pérez was in there for about five minutes, then came out. They couldn't hear what was said and they don't know where he went after that. Maurice seems to have stayed in his cabin.'
'Did Pérez speak to the kitchen staff?'
'No. One of the caterers said they'd been a bit surprised as they'd have expected compliments to the chef, but Giuseppe just shrugged. Not Pérez's style, apparently. Next along, at about eight-thirty, was Miss Harrison, by which time the meal had ended. She knocked on Maurice's door and called his name. They presume he didn't answer because she went away. Mrs Teague, one of the caterers, thinks she may have seen her go into her own cabin after that, which is next to Maurice's. They were already clearing up in here by then, so going back she'd have been looking aft down the forrard corridor.'
'How many hired staff are there?'
'Just the two men and Mrs Teague. Giuseppe belongs to the ship.'
'What's his English like?'
'Pretty basic, but he's sharp enough. Not excitable or anything.'
'Sorry, go on. About the caterers.'
'I was going to say, they all seem to do everything: prepare the food, wait at table, clear and wash up. One of them, Grantham, is the boss. He's an old navy man, so we got on all right. He's got a fish restaurant in town and does this for a bit extra. They all claim to have been in the galley from about nine o'clock until the Señora called out, and I've no particular reason to doubt them. Eventually Giuseppe went aft to find out what was going on, so they already knew all about it. They've been sitting about for fourteen hours now, sir. We feel a bit sorry for them. They've been very cooperative.'
'Cowes have informed their relatives that they're here, of course,' added Yardley. 'But Mrs Teague is worrying about her little boy, who's only four. Couldn't we let her go at least?'
'Your concern becomes you, gentlemen,' said Felix. 'All the same, I think we'll have to keep them a bit longer. Rattigan, nip down and soften them up, will you? Try to find out what Mrs Teague knows. Did she have much to say, John?'
'Only what I've told you. She helped Giuseppe prepare tapas and handed them out with the sherry in the saloon before dinner but she didn't serve in the deckho
use, just helped clear it up afterwards. I doubt she could have seen anything important. I don't think she's terribly bright. Her husband died in the war.'
'And she's got a four-year-old? All right, she can go back with the police launch, when that's possible. We'll know where to find her if we need her. Where are they now, still in the galley?'
'Yes. Harrison's put some deckchairs in there for them. Giuseppe's doing lunches.'
'Well then, they should be comfy enough, like the seaside. Off you go, Rattigan. You can interview Mrs Harrison while you're at it. See what you can find out about her old man; particularly how he got on with Pérez. She's familiar with you now, and you might do better than if we fetch her up here. We'll also need to know what she saw from where she was sitting. That'll help fill the gaps left by Bainbridge.'
'Put on my kindly old policeman face is it, sir?'
'Now, now, Teddy. You know you have a talent for it. Mine is likely to have the reverse effect.
'It's not the "kindly," I object to,' grumbled Rattigan in not entirely feigned annoyance, 'it's the "old."'
'Goodness me, what a sensitive creature you are! All right, I retract unreservedly the "old." And don't imagine I don't know what's on your mind; I can read you like a book. Go on Nash.'
'That's all I've got until about nine-thirty, sir,' grinned Nash. 'Then Giuseppe thinks he saw Maurice come into the kitchen; just out of the corner of his eye, as it were. He says people do wander in occasionally, to get themselves a glass of water and so on, and he might not take much notice. By then they were washing up, which is through a sort of inner door. Then a few minutes later Señor Pérez looked in briefly, nodded without speaking and went forrard.'
'Did he call on Maurice again?'
'They don't know. You can't see from the scullery. Then five or ten minutes after that, the Señora came along, ordered coffee, thanked them for what they'd done and asked if they'd seen her son or husband. They told her what they knew and she went forrard too. They were interested in that, so they stopped and listened and heard her go up the forrard companionway steps. They have a particular creak apparently, but it has to be quiet to hear it. It was only about five minutes later that they heard the Captain calling for Sven.'
'They didn't see the Señora come back through again?'
'They didn't say so, but unless anyone had come out of the scullery, they wouldn't have.'
'Is that it?'
'Nearly, sir. About ten minutes after the balloon went up, Giuseppe saw Effie Smith come from forrard. He couldn't see her door, which is well aft, after Miss Harrison's, but he thinks he heard her go in, and she may have spoken to someone, although she has a habit of singing to herself so it might have been that. That's about the lot. I will say, sir, that we can't be sure where anybody went after they'd passed the galley going forrard as you can't see the forrard end of the corridor from there unless you come out. They could have gone on deck, but there's the door to the fo'c'sle, of course, and also the forrard head and shower. It's supposed to be for the staff and crew, but people in the forrard cabins use it too.'
'Yes, toilets are always a nuisance. Still, I've a feeling there'll be something useful there. I don't suppose anyone mentioned voices coming from the fo'c'sle, at about the critical time?'
'No, sir. Although they might have done, if I'd asked.'
'Well, we must check,' said Felix, circling his previous note about it. 'Something else occurs to me: one or two of them will have been waiting at table. It might be interesting to get their view of what went on at the meal. You didn't ask, I suppose?'
'No, sir.'
'Well we'd best bear it in mind. It might be useful if we get conflicting accounts.'
'Grantham would be good for that, sir.'
'All right. If you get a minute, have a quiet word. Don't make it a priority. We'll probably get all we need from the diners. How about you, Yardley? Too much of a good thing, I daresay.'
'It's certainly a complicated picture, sir. I might be able to corroborate some of that, but I'd need to know which bits you're particularly interested in as there's so much of it. I've also done the torch, by the way. It's young Maurice's dabs on that, nice ones: whole hand and no-one else. He's also been in Miss Smiths's cabin, although it's not really possible to say when, except it's quite recent. Pérez's dabs are on Maurice's door and so are the Senora's and Miss Harrison's.'
'Hmm. His being in Miss Smith's cabin agrees with what the Señora said. I wonder what Captain Simmons would make of that?'
'Sir?'
'Miss Harrison's coming,' warned Nash.
Connie leaned casually round the door. 'Would any of you gentlemen like a sandwich? We can do ham, cheese, egg or any permutation thereof. Lettuce, tomato and pickle optional.'
'That would be marvellous, miss,' said Nash. 'Ham and tomato, if I may.'
'Cheese and pickle for me, please,' said Yardley. Any chance of a cuppa?'
'I'll send you up a pot. Inspector, can you manage something? You ought to try. How about some dry toast?'
'I shall bravely attempt it, Miss Harrison. Thank you. What have you done with my sergeant?'
'I think you've lost him. Sergeant Rattigan has his size nines firmly under the saloon table and is currently charming my mother while eating enough for two. He's very appropriately named, isn't he? You sort of want to cuddle him. Gosh, it's hot in here now! Shall I drop the blinds on this side?' Without waiting for a reply she leant over an appreciative Nash and did so.
There was a stifled explosion of mirth as she left the room.
'Forget Teddy. Henceforth it's Cuddles Rattigan,' chuckled Nash. 'He'll never live it down.'
'You breath a word, either of you, and I'll break you to constable,' threatened Felix. He got up and made for the door. 'If anyone asks, say I'm in the head.'
Pausing at the corner of the deckhouse, he watched Connie disappear down the forrard companionway, then hurrying to the boarding ladder he scrambled into the caterer's boat. The engine cover was as Yardley had described it, the wood at the edge splintered and broken, but the lock still secure. Presumably Grantham hadn't yet noticed, or he would surely have reported it. The abandoned torch had no doubt lain on a nearby seat and then rolled under the side deck, sheltering it from the fingerprint-obliterating spray. He checked his watch. By now she'd have given their orders to the chef. Would she take them up herself or send them with Rattigan? Probably the latter, in which case she might appear at any moment.
Abandoning his investigations he hid himself in the boat's open-ended cuddy, trying to ignore the sick-making motion and peering upwards through its single tiny port. This was one hunch he sincerely hoped was wrong, but a few minutes later he saw her climbing down, the fresh breeze snatching lasciviously at her skirts. Not entirely able to avert his eyes, Felix waited until she was safely aboard before ostentatiously clearing his throat.'
Connie swung violently round, grabbing at the cuddy-top. 'Oh my goodness! Inspector, you made me jump!'
'I'm so sorry, Miss Harrison. I was afraid you'd slip if I spoke up before. There were just a couple of things I wanted to check, while I thought of them.'
'Well don't let me stop you.' She gestured into the cuddy behind him. 'I'm afraid you've caught me in an act of petty larceny. I'm hunting for some aspirin; we've run out.'
Tucking in his chin, Felix made his voice sternly officious. 'I see, miss. Well if you promise not to do it again, we'll overlook it, just this once.'
Connie smiled. 'I suppose you can't tell me what you were looking for? I might be able to help.'
'Not at the moment. I've finished now, anyway. I'll leave you to your criminal activities.'
'Don't forget your toast,' she called.
Regaining the deckhouse, he took a deep, regretful breath before entering.
'Cup of tea, sir?' said Rattigan, who had, indeed, brought up the tray. 'And here's your toast. I've been told to make you eat it.'
'Yes, all right. How went the seduction of Mrs Harr
ison?'
'Oh, we're great friends now, and I've got a bit more on who went where. She was definitely in the saloon all evening, with witnesses, until she went up with everyone else when the Senora cried out. She didn't hear anything of the assault and reckons no-one else did either, or didn't say anything if they did. She did make the point that there are thumps and splashes outside all the time on a yacht, especially with the boarding ladder down and someone moored alongside, and after a while you don't notice. I suppose that's fair comment. Also, the generator starts up now and then when the lights are on, which they don't especially notice either but which would conceal lesser noises.
'As regards Baker, she's fairly sure he never came into the saloon while she was there, so it looks like he stayed behind in the study or somewhere else in the aft corridor until the Senora cried for help. Also Escobar didn't come back, once he'd gone up. She was a bit more cagey about Humphrey's movements – she's not daft – but eventually confirmed, probably without realising it, that he went up and stayed up. I couldn't get anything on his character generally without asking her straight out, except that they seem close enough and she's the boss, or thinks she is. She's a very nice lady: comfortable, if you know what I mean, and a bit old-fashioned.'
'Sounds like a friendship made in Heaven, Teddy. What's Humphrey up to now?'
'I didn't see him. The youngsters are playing cards, Baker is pacing the foredeck and Escobar is smoking at the taffrail, staring out to sea.'
'Well we'll come to them all shortly. I'm minded to look at the study next; then we'll unleash these fellas on it. In the meantime they can have a go at the sail-locker. It's right up near the bows, gents, and the hatch is, or was, open. All the usual please. We'll see you later. Come on, Rattigan, I'm fed up with this damned case. Let's get it over with.'
Death on a Dark Sea (The Inspector Felix Mysteries Book 2) Page 8