Murder Adrift (15 page)

‘He sounded as if he were threatening me. I didn't like his tone. He said you'd be making inquiries about the boat and I'd better have a good answer if you did.'

‘What business was it of Lever's? Did he know the boat was really yours?'

‘He talked as if he did. I don't know who told him. Unless it was Heck Todd. And I can't think why Heck should tell him. He was so keen on pretending he owned the boat.'

‘Do you think Lever was mixed up in this immigrant traffic?'

Pollitt looked all-in.

‘I don't know. I'm just bewildered. All this seems to be the end of my world. I just can't face the future.'

‘Very well, sir. We'll leave you now. I'll call to see you again soon and let you know how things are getting along.'

They rose ready to go. The room looked cold and austere. The furniture was crowded round the fireplace
and the few odds and ends round the walls looked as if they had been put there as an afterthought. A whatnot crowded with cheap little pieces of china,
A Present from Lowestoft,
and oddments like the remnants of forgotten tea-sets. . . . On the top shelf stood a silver frame, tarnished, holding a photograph of a gigantic sailor, bearded and with a wide smile.

‘Your son, sir?'

Littlejohn asked it merely for something cheerful to say.

‘Yes. He's a skipper on a fishing-boat. He owns it and another one as well. He was always mad about the sea and when it came time for him to find a job nothing else would do.'

‘Married?'

‘He was; but his wife and he didn't hit it off. She lives with her mother now. He more or less lives on his boat. When he wants a home on land he comes and stays with us. Never for long, though. He's probably fishing in the region of Iceland at present. . . .'

Littlejohn looked at the photograph again and wondered how a mediocre little man like the mayor could have produced a giant like that.

‘His name's Roger. . . .He's a good boy.'

‘Did he know about your buying the boat, sir?'

Pollitt flared up.

‘No! And I hope you aren't going to drag him in this sorry business. He's nothing to do with it. He was miles away at the fishing-grounds when it all happened.'

Pollitt seemed at the end of his tether, so they left him with his troubles. As they closed the front door behind them they heard the mayoress aggressively shouting from the upper room asking him what he was doing.

‘I had no idea the mayor had a son of that age, and a seaman at that,' said Hopkinson as they made their way back to the hotel.

‘We'd better get to know a little more about young Pollitt.'

‘Do you think he might be involved in the case?'

‘I've no idea, but we know nothing about him and it's time we did. The local police might help. Let's call at the
Trident
for some coffee and then you can go over to the police station.'

There was a smart van standing at the door of the hotel marked ‘Todd Bros. & Fish Ltd., Fordinghurst', and they found Dawson inside the
Trident
taking a drink on his rounds. He greeted them noisily.

‘Got over last night's orgy?'

‘That's a neat little van you've got at the door. Do you use them regularly?'

‘Yes. We get a lot of small orders for wine. We carry and deliver right away. Bulk orders are sent by lorry. . . .'

‘That's a good idea.'

‘Saves time and money. It's my slack day today. I'm just delivering and taking orders in the Fordinghurst neighbourhood. How's the case going?'

‘It's keeping me busy, but we've little to show as yet.'

‘Hope you soon run him to earth. I heard the mayor had been beaten up. Might have been killed if somebody hadn't arrived on the spot and chased the fellow off. Quite a sensation.'

‘Does Lever run a van as well?'

‘Yes. He's in Portwich today. He's been a bit off colour since the dinner last night he says. He met a good customer after he left you and had a drink with him. He says it turned him up, although, with the fuss he kicks up about his
diet, he ought to be a picture of health. I must be off. Some of my customers don't like waiting.'

He bustled away and they were relieved to see him go, for they had anticipated a long session of drinking and small talk.

Dawson had no sooner vanished than Inspector Bradfield arrived.

‘I've been looking for you two. I'm sorry I've had to leave you on your own. The arrears of work at headquarters are terrific. The courts have a long list and we've a couple of fresh smash-and-grab cases yesterday.'

They went up to Littlejohn's room and there the Chief Superintendent told Bradfield the results of their investigations.

‘The mayor!'

Bradfield whistled.

‘I heard about his escapade last night when I called at the police station here. Was he really attacked?'

‘No. We've just had a session with him. He's in pretty poor shape. More psychological than physical. He's almost scared to death. We got it out of him that he walked home after the dinner feeling at bit unsteady and as he was nearing his house he measured his length in the road. He must have come a real cropper. His face is swollen like a pudding. Last night, he said he'd been attacked; he didn't want it to get around that he'd had a drunken fall. Bad for local morale and his own pride. I think he's scared of something else, though. As I've told you, he was mixed up in an illegal immigrants racket with Heck Todd. More stupidity than anything else. He was completely taken in by Todd. And as he left the hotel last night Lever stopped him and told him he'd better be careful what he said to the police, and hinted that we were on the mayor's track. All
this being attacked might simply be a feint to make us think he was a victim instead of a criminal.'

‘And old widow Todd tried to keep you away from Lucy, because she thought Lucy knew too much. Do you think the old lady's implicated?'

‘She's a very formidable woman and might do anything to protect the family name. She was furious when we insisted on seeing Lucy. She dropped her mask of being the lovely old lady and showed her claws. Dr. Macmannus was a great help.'

‘Anything I can do?'

‘Yes. Tell us about young Roger Pollitt. The mayor says he owns his own fishing boat and spends all his time at sea.'

‘Are you thinking he might be bringing the immigrants over in his boat? I wouldn't put it past him. He's always been a bit of a harum-scarum. His father wanted him to become a lawyer, but Roger wouldn't have any. He ran away to sea on a local fishing vessel and finally his father let him have his way. I must say that after that young Pollitt settled down to the job and got his captain's ticket. I think it suits his father to have him away at sea. When he's on land he's a bit of a nuisance. Drunk and disorderly and sometimes a bit rough. We've had him in a time or two. He's never done time. Just fines. A bit awkward for his father who's a J.P.'

‘Did young Roger have much to do with Heck Todd?'

‘I'll say he did. Did old Pollitt tell you that he's separated from his wife? He did? She's gone to live with her mother, who's also separated from her husband. She's a good-looking girl, but little better than a tart. Sailors shouldn't marry that sort. She had a brief runabout with Heck Todd. When he came home somebody told Roger.
He gave Heck the best beating-up he'd ever had in his life. That ended Heck's affair with Marlene. Funnily enough, once they'd had it out, Heck and Roger got quite matey. When Roger was ashore they used to go out fishing in an old motorboat Heck owned. You'd never have thought they'd once fought it out over a woman.'

‘Who was Roger's wife before he married her?'

‘The daughter of one of Todd Brothers' representatives —John Willie Lever.'

‘What about taking afternoon tea, sir?'

Littlejohn looked sharply at Hopkinson. It wasn't often he made suggestions about taking a rest from his labours. It was obvious he had something other than refreshment on his mind. All the same, it seemed a good idea and after they had comfortably settled themselves in a quiet corner of the lounge it soon became plain what Hoppy was up to.

‘Have you formed any opinion yet, sir, as to who might have committed this crime?'

‘To be quite candid, Hopkinson, there are plenty of possibles, but the probable one hasn't emerged yet. Take Mr. Pollitt, for example. He was more or less being blackmailed by Heck Todd. He buys a boat for pure speculation and finds he's got a hot potato. In other words, he's become innocently involved in an illegal immigration racket. Who, in the town, is going to believe him when he explains that he financed the deal without knowing the purpose Heck Todd had in mind. He'll be treated as being up to the neck in the affair.'

‘But is he the type to get out of it all by murdering Todd?'

‘I admit he seems to be a little pompous coward. But if you'd seen him as I have during the past few days you'd realise that he might be driven in a fit of despair or intense fear to commit a crime in a frenzy.'

‘Has he an alibi?'

‘I am sure he can produce one. The usual story when a crime has been committed very late in the night. He'll say he was asleep in bed at the time. That's what Kenneth told me. . . . And, by the way, you might telephone to Scotland Yard about Kenneth and his alibi. He says he retired to bed around ten o'clock and slept until seven, after which he caught the 9.05 back to Portwich. Ask the Yard to send round to the hotel, the
Imperial Palace,
and find out if that was the case. Someone must have seen him on his way to bed and, again, when he left for his train. Ask, as well, if he was disturbed during the night. . . . By telephone, or something that might check that he was in his room all the time. Do it right away.'

No sooner said than done. Hopkinson, convinced that they were on a new trail, almost ran to the phone and back.

‘And now let's take a stroll before dinner and make a call on the harbour master.'

They made their way across the swing-bridge and found the harbour master in his office on the quayside drinking very strong tea from a large thick teacup. He was a tubby red-faced man who, until he had quit the sea and taken his present job, had travelled all over the world. There was nobody else about and nothing much doing in the port so he was glad of some company and a chat.

The office was small and cosy and official notices and tide tables covered the walls. One or two ships in bottles
and strange souvenirs from the lands and seas that Captain Turvey had visited in his time.

‘This is a great pleasure, gentlemen, and, I assume, what one might term a business call, seein' that you're both busy men and not given to wasting time on idle gossip.'

He offered them tea, which they didn't care to refuse, and he soon set before them two mugs like the one he was using and filled them with his black brew. Then he lit his pipe and waited to hear what the visit was about.

‘We're interested in some of the shipping connected with this port. For example, does Roger Pollitt, the mayor's son, own a fishing boat that is registered here?'

‘Yes. He owns two, as a matter of fact. The
James Gee,
of which he's skipper himself, and the
Betsy Gee,
of which Fred Jewell is captain. Both of them went out on the night tide 24 hours before the murder happened. They should be back on the next tide. You'll see both of them soon. They couldn't have been connected with the crime. They'd be well out at the fishing grounds by then.'

‘I'll be quite candid with you, captain. So far we've been assuming that Hector Todd went to sea with a passenger in his boat and the stranger shot him and then made off in the dinghy. Could we be wrong, however, and could it be that Todd was murdered here in the town and his body carried to his boat and the boat unhitched and left to float out with the body on the tide? The dinghy might also have been untied and left to follow the current. This, when Todd's boat with his body was found, would give the impression that the crime had been committed at sea and whoever did it had escaped in the dinghy.'

Captain Turvey slapped his thigh exultantly.

‘I thought the very same thing myself. I didn't get in touch with you chaps about it because I don't believe in
meddlin' in other people's affairs, but now you mention it I'll tell you how I see it. The doctors said Heck Todd was killed about midnight. High tide on that night was at 2.03. Whoever wanted the boat and the body to drift out to sea would wait until the ebb and then release it. If he sent it off before, the high tide would carry it upstream and the good Lord knows where it would end up. I'm not a detective, gentlemen, but as I read it, somebody killed Heck Todd here in Fordinghurst, let's say at twelve midnight, as the doctors reckoned. They've a body on their hands and wish to dispose of same. What do they do?'

He looked cheerfully at Littlejohn and Hopkinson and before they could answer continued.

‘Do they bury it in the garden or dump it in the river? As soon as a person doesn't turn up as usual, or disappears, there's a sort of hue and cry, as you gentlemen well know. They dig up gardens and drag the rivers and frogmen go down to the bottom and, as likely as not, the body's soon found. The hunting ground for you, gentlemen, is merely in the town itself. It's circumscribed, in a manner of speakin'. . . .'

Captain Turvey made a wide gesture with his arm.

‘But out at sea. . . . If you get a body out at sea, you've a wide ocean of possible suspects. . . . Haven't you?'

He looked at his two guests for agreement.

‘You mean, you think the murderer wished to make it look as if Todd had taken out a passenger, or they may even have met out at sea, for some illicit business and they quarrelled and the stranger killed Todd?'